Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The meeting room was filled with smoke, and the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like it was about to rain.

Minister Zhang of the logistics department was so worried that he was almost bald. He slammed the brass cartridge case onto the table, and the sound of it made was heartbreaking.

"Director Shen, I know these cannons are powerful. But you're just killing without burying the dead!"

Minister Zhang pointed at the spent cartridge case, his fingers trembling:

"This one shell carries dozens of kilograms of good steel. How much steel do we produce now? Anshan Iron and Steel has just resumed production, and the blast furnaces are still a mess left over from the Japanese occupation. Railways need to be repaired, bridges need to be built, and cars at the front need spare parts. Everyone is asking for steel."

He sighed and slammed a crumpled supplies allocation sheet on the table:

"Now you're going to pull this 'Xu Jin barrage' thing? One salvo would wipe out hundreds of tons of steel. Are you asking me to dismantle the bricks from the steel furnace to make up the numbers?"

The generals present also fell silent.

Make bricks without straw.

The weak industrial base is a fatal flaw. Without steel, even the best blueprints are just a piece of waste paper, and even the best cannons are just firewood that can only be looked at but not fired.

"Old Zhang, don't worry."

Marshal Nie tapped his cigarette ash, his brow furrowed. "We only have so many resources; we can only prioritize the most essential ones. If necessary, we'll cut back on civilian supplies, even smashing our own iron pots, to ensure ammunition supplies for the front lines!"

"Sell everything you own?"

Shen Jinghong, who had been silent all along, suddenly smiled.

He fiddled with the empty cartridge case, making a crisp metallic twang.

"Marshal Nie, Minister Zhang, we're not that poor yet, are we?"

Shen Jinghong stood up and walked to the huge world map in the conference room. His finger traced the Pacific Ocean and stopped on the "eagle" over the North American continent.

"Who says we don't have steel?"

He turned around, a cryptic, slightly bandit-like smile on his face:

"We don't have any, but we can't help it when someone sends us some."

"A gift?" Minister Zhang was stunned. "Who's giving it to us? Our Soviet big brother? They're not exactly rolling in steel either."

"The Soviet Union?"

Shen Jinghong shook his head, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes:

"That's too far. Isn't our transport captain right across the ocean?"

He walked back to the table, took out a thick list of supplies from his pocket (system space), flipped to the middle page, and then pushed it in front of Minister Zhang.

"Minister Zhang, please take a look at this."

Minister Zhang took it with a puzzled look and glanced down at it.

On that page, rows and rows of dazzling data were densely packed:

**[Pennsylvania Railroad's spare heavy-duty rails (60kg/m standard): 500 km]**

**[United Pacific Railroad Strategic Reserve Rail: 300 km]**

**[Included: Railway spikes, connecting plates, total weight: approximately 15 tons]**

"This...this is..."

Minister Zhang rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things. "Steel rails? American steel rails?"

"That's right."

Shen Jinghong rested her hands on the table, her tone as casual as if she were talking about borrowing some scallions from her neighbor's:

"When I was 'buying goods' in the United States, I stopped by their strategic reserve warehouse. I saw that these piles of steel rails were rusty, which was a shame, so I helped them 'clean' them up."

smoothly?

Cleaning?

Everyone in the audience was stunned.

Hundreds of kilometers of steel rails and tens of thousands of tons of steel—is that something you can just casually take? This is practically skinning someone's railway line alive!

"This is really good stuff!"

Old Li leaned over, glanced at the data, and slapped his thigh excitedly:

"This is high-manganese steel according to American standards! It has a high carbon content, high hardness, and good toughness! Using it for paving roads would be overkill, but this material... it's practically made for artillery shell casings!"

"It can be used not only to make artillery shell casings."

Shen Jinghong picked up the conversation, a mischievous glint in his eyes:

"Even if this steel rail has melted, the ratio of trace elements inside is still top-notch. We only need to remelt it a little, and we can directly stamp it into shape."

He picked up the spent cartridge and weighed it in his hand:

"Imagine we melt down steel rails engraved with 'USA' into molten iron and make them into artillery shells."

"Then we'll use our cannons to smash these 'American-made' steels back onto the American lines."

Shen Jinghong blinked and spread her hands:

"What's this called?"

"This is called using the original ingredients to cook the original food. Taking from the enemy and using it against the enemy. It not only solved our steel shortage but also helped the US clear its inventory. This is simply... internationalism!"

"puff--"

Chen Weiguo couldn't hold back and spat out all the tea he had just drunk.

internationalism to hell!

This is clearly a case of killing someone by destroying their spirit!

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Marshal Nie couldn't help but burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears almost streamed down his face. He pointed at Shen Jinghong, his finger trembling:

"You little brat...you're so mean! But...that felt so good!"

"Okay! Let's do it this way!"

Marshal Nie waved his hand dramatically, his voice filled with heroic spirit, "Old Zhang! These tens of thousands of tons of steel rails, how many artillery shells could you make?"

"Enough! That's enough!"

Minister Zhang held the list, grinning from ear to ear; his previous sour expression instantly transformed into a radiant smile.

"With this batch of steel, we can not only send out barrages, but also pave a steel floor for the American positions! I'll arrange a convoy to pick it up right away! We'll start the furnace tonight!"

"Then our cannons won't go hungry anymore!"

The atmosphere in the meeting room instantly became lively.

The long-standing problem of raw materials was so easily solved by Shen Jinghong with the phrase "a gift from the US." The thrill of using the enemy's bones to break their spine made every general feel their blood boil.

"The problem with the spear has been solved."

Seeing everyone's excitement, Shen Jinghong's smile gradually faded.

He knew that war was cruel.

With a sharp spear, one can kill the enemy.

But to win the war, to bring those young and lovely soldiers back alive, spears alone are not enough.

We also need a shield.

"Marshal Nie, esteemed commanders."

Shen Jinghong walked to the side and took out another bulging package from the tattered leather suitcase that seemed to contain the whole world.

"Killing the enemy is important, but saving your life... is even more important."

As he spoke, he untied the ribbon of the package.

"Splash!"

He shook out a somewhat bulky, drab vest and displayed it to everyone.

This vest looks unremarkable, even somewhat like the lining of an old cotton-padded jacket. It feels hard to the touch, as if some kind of board is stuffed inside.

"What is this?"

Chen Weiguo curiously leaned closer and touched it. "Looks like a cotton vest? But it's not warm at all, it's stiff."

"This isn't for keeping warm."

Shen Jinghong handed the vest to Chen Weiguo and told him to put it on.

then.

He did something that sent chills down everyone's spine.

He pulled the still-fired Mauser pistol from his waist and pressed it directly against Chen Weiguo's chest.

"Chief! What are you doing?!"

Chen Weiguo turned pale with fright, his body stiffening. "This is no joke! People could die!"

"Don't worry, you won't die."

Shen Jinghong's eyes were calm as his finger slowly rested on the trigger, his tone exuding absolute confidence:

"This uniform can make our soldiers' chests no longer just flesh and blood."

"It's called... a bulletproof vest."