Bright Sword: I built Italian cannons for Li Yunlong

Zhou Zhen paused, a fierce glint in his eyes: "The Japanese want to destroy our arsenal, do you agree?"

"disagree!"

"I disagree! Those bastards want to crush me? Dream on!"

The responses came in more and more voices, and they grew louder and louder.

"Alright! Since everyone has this confidence, I, as the factory manager, also guarantee that within a year, I will give you back an even more complete arsenal."

Zhou Zhen's words were like throwing a boulder into a stagnant lake.

This instantly rekindled the light in everyone's eyes.

Next, Zhou Zhen had a simple meal with everyone to get to know each other.

Zhou Zhen then went to his residence to rest, as arranged by them.

Although he had been traveling all day, he was very tired.

But thinking about the current state of the arsenal, he couldn't sleep at all.

The initial excitement and ambition to "show my skills" that I felt when I received the appointment have now been largely extinguished by the cold reality.

This is no arsenal; it's a complete mess.

However, if we look at it from another perspective, if it weren't such a mess, headquarters wouldn't have entrusted an entire arms factory to us.

This is both a sign of trust and a test.

Thinking about it this way, he felt much better.

"If I, a time traveler, can't even overcome this little difficulty, then there's no point in talking about saving more revolutionary predecessors."

Lost in thought, Zhou Zhen fell asleep without realizing it.

Upon waking up the next day, Zhou Zhen carefully assessed the production capacity of the arsenal on-site.

Due to the damage to the equipment in those former arsenals, the previous gun repairs and grenade production had to be stopped.

He carefully examined the damage to the equipment, most of which had been caused by explosives.

For example, the only simple rifling machine in the factory was given special attention; not only was the main shaft broken, but some of the other transmission gears were also severely deformed.

Looking at the rifling machine tool that was almost completely destroyed, Zhou Zhen, after all, was not a professional in equipment maintenance and did not know if the equipment could still be repaired.

So he asked Master Han, who was standing next to him, "Is there any possibility that this equipment can be repaired?"

Upon hearing this, Master Han's facial muscles twitched, and he shook his head with a wry smile and helplessness.

He walked to the machine tool, stretched out his rough hands, and gently brushed away the dust from the broken shaft as if stroking a wounded comrade, then let out a long sigh.

"Director Zhou." His voice was hoarse. "To be honest, ever since the day the accident happened, whenever I have a spare moment, I sit here and ponder."

"The principle of this rifling machine is actually not complicated. It is a lever with a cutter at a specific helical angle that moves inside the barrel by gears and lead screws."

"These transmission gears, though damaged, can be replaced with hardwood. At most, their lifespan will be shorter. We even used pulleys made from stone millstones during our most difficult times, so what are we afraid of?"

His tone suddenly became agitated, but then quickly dropped.

"What's really deadly is this." Master Han's voice choked with emotion. "This knife was obtained from enemy-occupied territory at great expense back then. Now that the connecting rod of the knife has been blown off, we have no way to make a replacement."

Zhou Zhen looked at the broken and deformed knife and scratched his head in distress.

However, he did gain something from communicating with these experienced craftsmen.

The workers here may not be highly educated, but they have extremely high levels of experience and skills.

Moreover, that passion and perseverance to do things well is a more valuable asset than any machine tool.

Next, Zhao Dajiang took Zhou Zhen to see the grenade production workshop, where the situation was equally worrying.

Upon entering, the place was in complete disarray.

The simple furnace used for melting pig iron was blown apart from the inside by explosives, and the furnace chamber ruptured.

Nearby, several metal molds used to cast the cast iron shells of hand grenades were either shattered or severely deformed.

Zhao Dajiang pointed to the ruins, his voice heavy.

"As you can see, the blast furnace is completely destroyed. To rebuild it, we need to find suitable refractory clay and let it air dry. It won't be done in less than half a month."

"The molds are all ruined. Remaking them requires good steel and precision machining, which will take at least another month or two."

"It is clearly impossible to resume grenade production in the short term."

"Director Zhou, right now, the only part of the entire factory that we can still count on getting moving immediately is the bullet reloading workshop."

The bullet reloading workshop was located in the innermost and driest cave dwelling.

As soon as you step inside, a strong smell of gunpowder hits you.

A dozen or so workers are busy at work, and the process is clearly visible.

The first step is to sort the bullet casings retrieved from the battlefield according to their caliber, discarding those that are severely deformed or cracked.

Next, the primer is pressed back into the bottom of the cartridge case, a certain amount of gunpowder is added, and then the recycled or homemade bullet is gently pressed into the cartridge case using a mold.

"Old Zhao, I need to check the raw materials," Zhou Zhen said softly.

Zhao Dajiang gestured to a worker to fetch a sample.

Zhou Zhen took a small, open ceramic jar containing grayish-black powder with unevenly sized particles.

He picked up a small amount with his fingers, looked at it closely, and smelled it. It had a distinct smell of sulfur and charcoal.

"This is... black powder?" Zhou Zhen's heart sank.

"Yes, we made it ourselves using a homemade method. The saltpeter was extracted from soil scraped from the base of old walls and the side of outhouses. Sulfur and charcoal are easier to obtain," Zhao Dajiang explained, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. "We can't get the formula or the raw materials for the Japanese smokeless gun. This is all we have."

Zhou Zhen picked up a few more reloaded bullets and carefully examined the primers.

He then had Zhao Dajiang take him to the place where mercury fulminate was stored.

Because mercury fulminate is extremely sensitive, even a slight impact or excessively high temperature can cause it to explode.

To safely store mercury fulminate, the Eighth Route Army dug many cellars near the arsenal, and each cellar only stored a small amount of mercury fulminate.

Zhou Zhen looked at the environment of the cellar and then at the porcelain bottle storing mercury fulminate, and finally determined why the Eighth Route Army's primer was prone to failure.

"Old Zhao, the primers we use are either transported at great risk by our underground comrades or salvaged from captured ammunition, right?"

Zhao Dajiang nodded heavily: "Yes, this stuff is valuable. The Japanese are very strict with inspections, and there are many checkpoints along the way, so there are often losses."

"That's right," Zhou Zhen interjected. "The mercury fulminate in the primer is an extremely sensitive detonator."

"Because it is so active, changes in ambient temperature and humidity will render it ineffective."

"Although you stored it in a cellar to maintain the temperature, many of the fire starters became damp and ineffective due to the lack of drying measures."