World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Hiss," he said simply, "but remember, weapons are just tools. What truly determines victory or defeat is people."

He began explaining the operating procedures: how to load the magazine, how to switch between single-shot and burst fire, how to shoulder-fire, how to quickly change magazines...

The recruits studied very diligently. Some of them had a gleam in their eyes, as if they could already see themselves wielding this gun and wreaking havoc on the battlefield.

Matsumoto looked at them, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him. These young people had no idea what they were about to face. They thought war was about glory, heroism, and an opportunity to make a name for themselves.

They didn't know that war is mud, blood, mutilated corpses, and shattered dreams.

"Alright, now everyone test fire one magazine," Matsumoto said. "Remember, control the recoil, short bursts, conserve ammunition."

The recruits lined up and headed to their firing positions. Wooden targets simulating trenches were erected at the edge of the training field, with simple human figures drawn on them.

The first recruit pulled the trigger.

"Da da da da da—"

The rapid gunfire shattered the afternoon tranquility. Shell casings rained down like golden droplets, landing on the ground. The target was instantly riddled with bullet holes, and sawdust flew everywhere.

"Wow!" the recruits exclaimed.

The new recruit who had been shooting lowered his gun, his face flushed with excitement: "Instructor! This gun is amazing!"

Matsumoto nodded: "Next."

One by one, the recruits experienced the power of this new weapon. Everyone's reaction was similar—surprise, excitement, even a little…fanatical.

They loved the feeling. They loved the feeling of wielding immense power. They loved the imagined feeling of being invincible on the battlefield.

But they don't know, or don't want to know, that the enemy also has similar weapons, or even better ones. When both sides possess such efficient killing tools, war only becomes more brutal and bloodier.

"Instructor."

Matsumoto turned around and saw Shinichi Muto standing behind him. The young man's left arm was still bandaged, but he looked better than when they last met.

"Muto." Matsumoto nodded. "How's your injury?"

"Almost done." Muto stretched his arm. "The doctor said the bandages can be removed in another week. But I probably won't be able to go back to the front lines. My arm mobility is affected, and I can't hold the gun steadily."

He said this calmly, even with a hint of... relief?

"So what do you want to do?" Matsumoto asked.

"I don't know." Muto looked at the excited recruits on the training field. "Maybe they'll go to logistics, or maybe they'll become instructors at the training camp, just like you."

He paused. "At least, I can live."

Matsumoto wanted to say something, but in the end he just patted him on the shoulder.

Looking at the new recruits, Muto suddenly asked, "Instructor, do you think... this war will end?"

"Yes," Matsumoto said. "All wars will end."

"What happens after it's over? What will happen to us? What will happen to these new recruits?"

Matsumoto fell silent. He didn't know the answer. Or rather, he knew the answer, but couldn't bring himself to say it.

After the war, the survivors return home, carrying their scars and memories. Some become "heroes" and are honored. Some fade into obscurity, reintegrating into ordinary life. Some remain forever trapped in the nightmare of war, unable to escape.

The dead become names on monuments, numbers in pension accounts, and an eternal void in the hearts of their loved ones.

"Muto," Matsumoto finally said, "as long as we're alive, there's hope. As for the rest... we'll talk about that when we're alive."

Muto nodded. He stared at the recruits for a long time, then said softly, "I hope they all survive. At least, until the war is over."

Suddenly, a commotion broke out on the training field.

Matsumoto turned his head and saw several officers escorting a man in a brand-new military uniform, his chest covered with medals, as he walked over. The man was in his fifties, short and stout, with a mustache, and small eyes that gleamed with shrewdness.

"It's a special envoy from the Ministry of the Army!" someone whispered.

The envoy walked to the center of the training field and raised his hand. Everyone fell silent.

"Gentlemen!" His voice was loud and clear, with a Tokyo accent. "I am Major General Tanaka Giichi, a special envoy directly under the Minister of the Army! I have come by order of His Majesty the Emperor and the Minister of the Army to offer my condolences to the soldiers on the Eastern Front!"

Applause broke out, but it wasn't enthusiastic. The soldiers on the front lines had seen many of these "special envoys," knowing that they usually came to inspect, give instructions, and then return with a pile of photos and reports to claim credit.

Major General Tanaka seemed unconcerned by the sparse applause. He walked up to the new recruits and looked at the new weapons in their hands.

"Is this the new automatic firearm provided by Lanfang?" he asked.

"Yes, General!" an officer replied, "Testing has just begun."

Major General Tanaka took a gun, weighed it in his hand, and made a few aiming motions.

"Excellent gun," he commented. "Lightweight, powerful, and perfect for close combat. Gentlemen, with such a weapon, you will be the sharpest spearhead of the Imperial Army! You will surely achieve unparalleled feats on the battlefield!"

The new recruits stood tall, their faces beaming with pride.

Major General Tanaka returned the gun to the officer, then turned to everyone: "Gentlemen! When I was in the country, I saw your victory reports in the newspapers every day! Great victory on the Eastern Front! Advance of 300 kilometers! Annihilation of a million enemy soldiers! These are all honors you won with your blood and lives!"

His voice grew increasingly louder: "The people of the nation are proud of you! His Majesty the Emperor is gratified by you! The Imperial Army's reputation has resounded throughout Europe and the world!"

The applause rang out again, this time more enthusiastically. The new recruits were moved by these words, some even with tears in their eyes.

But Matsumoto noticed that the veterans—those who stayed from the first and second batches—had calm, even somewhat indifferent, expressions.

They've heard this kind of talk many times, and they know that the glory in those words and the reality of the battlefield are two different worlds.

Major Tanaka continued his speech, talking about how the country was celebrating, how the government was attaching importance to it, and how the locusts were being rewarded. He spoke for a full twenty minutes, using flowery language and full of emotion.

After his speech, he walked up to the officers and whispered something to them. The officers nodded repeatedly.

Then Major General Tanaka left, surrounded by a group of people, to inspect other places.

The training grounds returned to calm, but the atmosphere was different. The recruits were still excitedly discussing the envoy's words, the celebrations back home, and the "prestige of the Imperial Army."

Muto watched their retreating figures and whispered to Matsumoto, "They really believed it."

Matsumoto didn't answer. He recalled his sister's words in her letter: "The young people in town all admire you; they say you're a hero."

hero.

Fame and renown.

glory.

These words are like beautiful wrapping paper, concealing the cruel reality, the muddy trenches, and the mutilated corpses.