Munitions Empire-Chapter 882 - 805 Winter Greeting

Chapter 882: 805 Winter Greeting Chapter 882: 805 Winter Greeting Raising national quality to serve the national machinery better, making the country even more powerful, and then gaining more benefits to feed back into education to enhance national quality… All of this was a synergistic closed loop.

By this time, Tang Mo’s role as a “humanoid self-propelled plotting machine” had increasingly tended toward “inspiration”. He no longer took part in frontline work himself but was only responsible for making the right decisions at crucial moments.

Nowadays, the Great Tang Empire possessed the most comprehensive and most powerful scientific research team in the world, backed by the Tang Empire, it was invincible in the field of technological development.

The most cutting-edge technologies in the world were concentrated in the Tang Country—it was undoubtedly so; other countries did not even qualify to challenge them, desperately trying to catch up yet unable to even breathe in the dust left behind.

There were only two kinds of technological achievements in the entire world: the technologies used by the Tang Country itself, and those that the Tang Country was willing to sell to other countries…

The top talents of the world were gathered in Chang’an, Tongcheng, Linshui, and Dragon Harbor. They hailed from all corners of the globe, constituting the smartest group of people worldwide.

They were here, day and night, deliberating on technologies unheard of outside, using every possible means to realize them.

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Among them were Tang People, Suthers people, and Laines people, Dorne people, and even Dwarf Elves; recently, even a few Chinese had arrived.

Tang Mo didn’t even have to worry about these scientists’ loyalty, as no one wanted to leave; they had experienced a higher level of scenery in the Great Tang Empire.

Even if there were people among them who wanted to return to their countries or leave, they’d soon discover that outside this place, people couldn’t even understand what they were saying—no one wanted to discuss particle colliders with engineers obsessed with steam engines.

The pain brought by war was gradually being soothed by time, and the influence of the war was still subtly transforming the world.

In front of a brand-new residence in Beiyuan City, an officer adjusted his military uniform and carefully straightened his Blade Medal before hesitantly knocking on the door.

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An elderly woman opened the door, her expression also nervous, and she paused slightly upon seeing the officer standing there.

“Do you… have, any matter?” the old woman almost guessed something, tried to maintain her calm, and asked.

The officer, standing there, took a moment to adjust his breath, then took a document from his adjutant and handed it to the old woman at the door, “Your son performed with great valor on the battlefield, and we are grateful for his contributions to the Empire. Unfortunately, he was sacrificed in the battle of Fengjiang…”

The elderly woman couldn’t clearly hear the rest; her worst fear had come to pass—one of her two sons would never return to her side again.

She didn’t reach out for the death notice because it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in her hands, too heavy to lift.

The officer opposite her wasn’t speaking either, holding the paper with both hands. He was accustomed to this, having delivered similar notices to several families that day.

In war, the loss of a person was far too common, but for the families of the deceased, such bad news was devastating, like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami engulfing.

“Madam,” finally, the officer opened his dry lips, quietly addressing her, reminding her that she should accept that paper representing “honor”.

That was a person’s last glory left in this world, his courage, everything about him was on that white paper.

“Oh… Oh,” the old woman, prompted, instinctively reached out, yet recoiled the moment she touched the paper, as if it were a red-hot branding iron.

Yet ultimately, she reached out again, took the paper, and saw the lines written on it.

In truth, she was illiterate; she once hailed from Northern Qi and later became a Tang person, living a better life. She had three sons, one killed by the occupiers from Mirage Country in Beiyuan City, another fell at Fengjiang, leaving only her youngest son who now worked on the railways.

“Did he, he not cause you any trouble?” the elderly lady, staring at the officer, struggled for words before finally asking.

The officer paused upon hearing this, then immediately responded, “No, he was very brave and made an outstanding contribution to this victory.”

It was a standard script, tragically standard. Every soldier sacrificed in crucial battles for a supremely great victory, as though each death held such significant meaning.

But in reality, some soldiers died in cold, wet corners of trenches, some shot by snipers beside campfires, humble and innocent; many were far from the epitome of heroism.

A frightened soldier might die from an unexpected artillery shell, and valiant veterans might be buried alive under collapsed masonry.

War was so brutal to life, which was why everyone pursued victory, for it was the best solace for all tragedies, all wounds, and all pain.

“That’s good… that’s good.” The old woman leaned against the doorframe, seemingly drained of strength, nodding vaguely.

Her current pain was known only to herself, no one could comfort her, and no one could understand. She really wanted to see her youngest son now, for he was her only concern left.

“This is the compensation from the nation for your son, I hope you can restrain your grief and accept the change,” the officer once again took some items from his deputy and handed them to the confused old woman.

Included was a military uniform, an infantry dress uniform, topped with a large-brimmed military cap embroidered with the Empire’s dragon emblem.

The old woman mechanically reached out and took the uniform, noticing the box pressed under the hat and an envelope underneath the box.

Inside the envelope were two one-hundred Gold Coin notes—a denomination most common citizens might never see in their lifetimes. Tang Country provided a similar compensation to each deceased soldier, and an additional fifty silver coins for family living expenses every forthcoming month.

Contained in the box was a Third-Class Blade Medal, an honor bestowed posthumously to every fallen soldier, signifying the soldier hadn’t performed any extraordinary feats during service, evidenced simply by the Third-Class Blade Medal for the deceased.

If it were a seasoned warrior, they would typically possess a higher-class Blade Medal. If one had received a Second-Class Blade Medal while alive, then it was upgraded to a First-Class Blade Medal upon their death. Thus, simply from the level of the medals, one could discern the general performance of the soldier at the time of sacrifice.

Of course, no one would open and inspect these items at the scene. Holding these objects, the old woman couldn’t stop her tears from flowing down.

Sobbing, she apologetically explained, “I’m sorry! I’m just… very heartbroken…”

“It’s all right, Madam… We understand,” responded the officer, whose presence was primarily for condolence and naturally wouldn’t mind.

On the contrary, part of his duty was to comfort the families of the fallen soldiers and help solve some practical issues they might encounter.

These incidents unfolded in every corner of Tang Country, as many had perished from Tang in this war.

For this purpose, Tang Mo had allocated at least ten million Gold Coins in compensation and was set to provide monthly financial support to the families to cover living expenses.

The losses for Dahua Empire and Chu Country were immeasurable, with about a million Dahua troops surrendering.

Among these troops, at least one-third were not hastily conscripted cannon fodder but truly elite soldiers of the Dahua Empire.

These individuals had surrendered along with Qian Jinhang and were now atoning for their errors through labor reform within Tang Country.

In Chu Country, over a hundred thousand troops also surrendered, were disarmed, and sent back to find their own livelihoods.

Most of them found employment in factories, securing jobs that paid over double what they used to earn.

Additionally, the war had devastated the homes of at least three million people. Fengjiang City and Xicong City were reduced to ruins, leaving over a million people homeless and over a million more without shelter during the winter.

Nine hundred kilometers of roads endured varying degrees of destruction and damage, seven hundred kilometers of railways required repair, and the loss of materials was incalculable.

Throughout the war zone, rust-covered tank wrecks could be seen, most of which were Dahua Empire’s Type 1 and Type 2 tanks.

Field airports everywhere were littered with damaged aircraft, these outdated biplanes left abandoned on the battlefield, eroded by time, presenting a sorry sight.

Many aircraft had fractured fuselages, the canvas skin on the wings torn open; the wind whipped through these wrecks, producing unpleasant whistling sounds.

In the abundant trenches, one could see stark white bones, steel helmets with bullet holes, deformed helmets, broken and discarded helmets, lying next to empty ammunition boxes.

Nearby, village children searched among the foul-smelling corpses for various calibers of shell casings, valuable in both Dahua Empire and Tang Empire.

They played and frolicked beside an abandoned 76mm Anti-Aircraft Gun, hopping and jumping on old car wrecks stripped of wheels and engines.

It was as if the war had truly and completely receded into the past. Their laughter echoed through the fields, carefree and innocent.

Suddenly, a child screamed when a white snowflake landed on his nose, the piercing chill heralding the arrival of winter.