Father of France

Chapter 108 The Ambitious Old Painter

Koeman agreed, but he also knew that the arms sale investigation might not be successful. It was quite obvious that France would not need to buy the technology from the United States if it obtained it from Germany.

The technology that you want to buy from the United States or the United Kingdom is definitely too advanced and they may not sell it, so the remaining range of military technologies is quite limited, not to mention that you also have to consider the application scenarios.

“The US hasn’t found any value in this weapon, which is still in its early stages of development. What use is it to France? An attack helicopter.” After much thought, Koman concluded that this was the only weapon suitable for France, especially Algeria.

Early helicopters were very vulnerable and primarily served as auxiliary missions such as transport, rescue, and reconnaissance. However, the military quickly realized that weapons could be added to helicopters to provide them with a degree of self-defense and offensive capabilities.

Armed helicopters were first used by France in Algeria, with excellent results. They only became known worldwide much later due to the US military in the Vietnam War and the Soviet military in the Afghanistan War.

At this time, no country has specifically researched armed helicopters. Both the United States and the Soviet Union were in the exploratory stage. Germany had some technological accumulation, but its accumulation was also shallow.

As for Britain, another major player in World War II, British helicopters did not have tail rotors.

It can be said that armed helicopters are in the planning stages and have not been given much attention by major powers, but Algeria, which is already under military control, especially needs this kind of weapon system.

Koeman didn't really believe in the technological accumulation France had made during its four years of occupation. He wanted to go to the United States to investigate, obtain sufficient research data, and combine the advantages of various countries before he could create such a weapon to bully third-world countries.

As for the other weapon systems, Koeman had not yet identified any particular French system that he needed and that he could obtain without restrictions.

After ending the call, Koeman went straight to the military camp to await the outcome of this power struggle with his father. Baden was the administrative center of the French-occupied territory, so there was no danger there. The ease of being in the headquarters gave Koeman a lot of confidence, and he took the opportunity to have a verbal argument with the officer.

"Don't touch me like that." Gudron Himmler squeezed his legs together, looking reproachfully at the man who was pushing his luck. "Is this all you wanted?"

"Of course it is, what else could it be?" That's what Koeman thought to himself, but he would never admit it. "I did act impulsively, but you can't blame me. Who could resist that?"

“You always have an excuse,” Gudrun Himmler muttered, then looked up and scrutinized Koman’s face. “May I see the prisoners at the Rhine camp?”

Gudrun Himmler didn't know why he made this request; perhaps he wanted to see what the German army, which had once conquered and seized territory, looked like now.

“No problem, it’s not that confidential.” Koeman nodded in agreement. There are a total of eighteen Rhine camps, which together stretch for hundreds of kilometers. If someone wanted to see them, they couldn’t hide them.

The Rhine camp was simply a large area of ​​barren fields or grassland enclosed by barbed wire, surrounded by watchtowers guarded by soldiers of the victorious nations. To protect themselves from the summer sun, prisoners could only dig pits in the ground and hide inside to rest. If it rained while they were sleeping, these dug pits would become natural burial grounds.

At the Rhine camp, eating, drinking, and relieving oneself were all done within designated areas. Infectious diseases had already spread, and survival depended entirely on one's resistance.

Koeman stood on a hilltop and handed Gudrun Himmler a telescope, which allowed him to observe the situation at the Rhine camp from a distance. The German soldiers were crammed together like sardines, without tents or cover.

When it rains, they huddle on the ground, or dig shallow pits with their tattered raincoats or even their bare hands, and curl up inside like animals.

Outside the barbed wire were guards with weapons at their feet; inside, it was deathly silent. All eyes were fixed on the exit, a silent yet oppressive atmosphere. Even the occupying soldiers could feel the hunger in those eyes, like invisible needles piercing their skin.

Two emaciated prisoners silently lifted the young man's body and trudged through the mud towards a corner deep within the camp designated as a morgue. There, bodies would be stacked like firewood, awaiting disposal by the occupying forces, typically by being thrown directly into the Rhine River to be purified by nature.

Gudrun Himmler, pale-faced, lowered his binoculars, his throat seemingly constricted. "This is the Rhine Camp? Is this how you treat prisoners of war?"

"It was an order from the Allied High Command, but actually the US military had the final say, although several large camps were under the control of the French and British forces." Koeman then changed the subject, "It was an order from Eisenhower, who, in fact, was a German immigrant."

“You seem to have said that people who immigrate to other countries are the most dangerous.” Gudrun Himmler took a few deep breaths and regained his composure. “That’s the fate of the defeated. You are lucky that your country is still among the victors.”

“For now,” Koeman said with a wry smile. “We may have to acknowledge American control over Europe for a short period and bow our heads during this time.” This wasn’t the first time the two had climbed a mountain, but neither of their experiences had been pleasant memories for Gudrun Himmler.

The first time she learned of her father's suicide, the second time she witnessed the tragedy at the Rhine camp, and now Gudrun Himmler realized that Koeman's repeated talk of throwing German refugees into the Rhine camp was not just a simple threat.

"I'll never climb mountains again," Gudrun Himmler muttered to herself. Although she was considered strong-willed among girls, she couldn't withstand the repeated tests of her willpower.

"I'll listen to you. A girl like you should be carefree," Koman said, her eyes filled with tender comfort. "I'll come see you after I finish my mission."

When asked by Gudrun Himmler, Koeman told the Dragoon about his plan to investigate the American military industry. Gudrun Himmler was reluctant to admit that the United States had superior military technology, saying, "With German military technology, why would we need to investigate the United States?"

Koeman was too embarrassed to say that many of Germany's military technologies were unfinished products, but were simply given the prestigious title of "cutting-edge technology."

Moreover, not all the finished products were what France needed; German weapon systems were notoriously flashy and unconventional.

Perhaps because Germany has limited domestic resources, it had to be very careful with its weapon systems, resulting in many weapons being over-designed with a bunch of unnecessary functions without significantly increasing their power.

At number 7 Rue Grand Augustin in Paris, a knock on the door forced Françoise Gilot to open it, where she saw Corman... wearing a French military cap.

This kind of gaze hurt Koman greatly, and he increasingly wanted to change his unit's military caps. After all, they were military police, and it was perfectly reasonable for them to change their caps to be different from most soldiers so that they could be recognized by combat troops and serve as an early warning system.

"I'm looking for Mr. Picasso." Corman had no intention of having a casual chat with this woman who was on par with Picasso and his wife. After all, it was normal for artists to have complicated relationships with men.

Not to mention that Picasso was one of the best among them, an artist with the domineering CEO type of personality, and his arrogance was considered humble.

Koeman didn't have time to waste words with this woman who was Picasso's fifth wife and on equal footing with him. He had already found out before he came that Picasso was currently in the area and had no other scheduled appointments.

Five minutes later, Picasso, the undisputed most famous painter of the 20th century, appeared before Corman at the age of sixty-four with a puzzled look on his face. He was indeed puzzled as to why a young soldier would come to his door. After Corman introduced himself, he wondered if it was because Picasso had joined the French Communist Party.
This was because Corman took out a French Communist Party membership card and placed it on the table. Picasso had also joined the French Communist Party last year. Picasso was no ordinary painter. In the process of accumulating fame, he displayed a level of hype that was no less than MacArthur's. He was by no means the kind of painter who buried himself in his studies, and naturally he would not be fooled by a membership card.

“There is something I would like Mr. Picasso to help with,” Coleman broke the silence. “You have lived in Paris for forty years and must have some affection for France. I wonder if you could use your influence to help France when Mr. Picasso is needed. Moreover, this matter would also benefit you personally. I will get straight to the point. The country wants to hold an art exhibition in New York, the largest city in the United States. As the undisputed world’s number one painter, you have enormous influence. If your work can be included in the art exhibition, the exhibition will be half successful.”

Picasso watched Corman without showing any emotion, but in his heart he had already agreed. This painter had come to Paris from Spain for fame and fortune, and was by no means the kind of artist who was content with poverty.

He also got everything he wanted through hard work, including money and beautiful women.

But that wasn't enough. Picasso wanted to further expand his influence, and Corman's suggestion was a great opportunity, though he still had a question: "Why?"

"Because it is a valuable asset," Corman replied solemnly. The French luxury goods industry, which sells prestige, actually has little value in itself; things that originate from handicrafts naturally have limited true value.

The jewelry is made of gold and diamonds, and while it might sell for four figures in other countries, it can fetch five figures in France.

In the luxury goods industry, where the technical barriers are so low, Coman will naturally do his best to protect and support it, so that France can avoid the involution problems that many other countries have encountered.

In Koeman's view, France, due to the high premiums in the luxury goods industry, is actually the country most likely to achieve common prosperity, with a better foundation than any other country.

He offered an opportunity that led the still ambitious Picasso, in his sixties, to agree immediately: "Do you want my treasured works? Have you already made a list?"

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be real.” Seeing Picasso’s pain, Koeman said with a smile, “How can ordinary people have art appreciation skills? Especially ordinary people in America, they only see Picasso’s name.”

(End of this chapter)