Chapter 506: Rifle Design
Charles thought Lieutenant General Ives would flaunt his authority in front of him, or at least put on an affected reprimand. But surprisingly, nothing of the sort happened.
When Charles and Tijani stepped forward to salute him, Lieutenant General Ives casually returned the salute and said impassively, "I have already inspected the airfield alongside His Majesty. You've done very well; the battlefield needs exceptional commanders like you. Keep it up, and in the not-so-distant future, the Germans will be crushed under our boots!"
Lieutenant General Ives exchanged a few more casual words with them, then hastily left without even finishing his cup of coffee.
Charles turned toward Albert I with suspicion, certain this was his doing.
Albert I shrugged innocently. "Nothing to do with me, General. I merely informed him this is Belgium; perhaps he's finally recognized that."
Charles rolled his eyes, interpreting that as a tacit admission.
Tijani recalled the First Special Reconnaissance Corps and the Airfield Security Force that Albert I had begun assembling a few days earlier and immediately understood what had happened. With a playful glance at Albert I, he teased, "Why do I feel there's a conspiracy here, Your Majesty? You've prepared quite a bit for today, haven't you?"
Albert I replied earnestly, "No, no. This isn't premeditated at all. Absolutely not."
He even raised his hand solemnly. "I swear, I had no idea he'd come today."
Charles and Tijani exchanged amused looks. This might be the only honest statement Albert I had ever made.
…
Although Albert I had shielded Charles from British interference, Charles knew he wasn't entirely safe yet.
The British held command authority in Antwerp, even extending to indirect authority over the French army by controlling Nivelle.
This control was limited since Nivelle still reported to the French Parliament, which could dismiss him anytime, just as they had done with Joffre. However, Parliament had little military expertise and relied on Nivelle entirely to formulate operational plans.
Charles mentally reviewed his precarious position:
The British didn't want him to overshadow the entire British army; similarly, the old French generals shared this sentiment, while the Parliament feared the rise of military dictatorship.
They could all be considered adversaries, meaning the operational plans they devised would inevitably disadvantage him.
Charles decided not to indulge in illusions and began preparing for the worst.
"I'm heading to Ghent," Charles said, rising and grabbing some paper and a pen.
"Ghent?" Tijani watched Charles's departing back with confusion, then smiled knowingly. "Visiting his future in-laws, perhaps? I underestimated him!"
…
Ghent, the third-largest city in Belgium, derived its name from the Celtic word "Ganda," meaning "confluence of rivers," where the Scheldt and Leie Rivers meet. Convenient transport routes had turned Ghent into a prosperous commercial hub.
In Ghent's eastern suburbs, several kilometers south of Antwerp Road near Dampoort railway station, stood the FN weapons factory.
Browning had his own independent laboratory within the factory. Dominique was astonished to find it much simpler than his own, with many old-fashioned manual tools and just a dozen or so assistants.
Perhaps sensing Dominique's skepticism, Browning said coldly, "Weapon design isn't about machinery; it's about ideas and analysis!"
He tapped his head for emphasis, "Without ideas, even the most advanced machinery is useless."
Dominique nodded, fully understanding this point.
Casually hanging his coat and hat on a rack, Browning sat at his desk and began sketching on paper while speaking:
"I know your background—you're Stede's youngest son, possibly the future heir of the Saint-Étienne Arsenal."
"But I hope you understand one thing clearly."
"The moment you step into this lab, you're nobody—just my assistant. Is that clear?"
Browning paused, looking up expectantly at Dominique.
"Yes, sir," Dominique replied nervously.
Noticing Dominique's anxiety, Browning reassured him, "Relax. We're designing firearms, not carrying them into battle."
Several assistants chuckled, making Dominique feel somewhat embarrassed.
What Browning didn't know was Dominique's anxiety wasn't caused by firearms but by the fear of inadequacy.
As Browning began working on his design, he quickly ran into difficulties:
Initially, he considered modifying the existing BAR, hoping to satisfy the requirements of a semi-automatic rifle while maintaining compatibility and saving time.
But he soon realized this made it difficult to significantly reduce weight.
A semi-automatic could shorten the rifle's overall length somewhat. The magazine capacity could also be reduced, but to what extent?
Five rounds? Eight? Or perhaps ten?
Firearm design was challenging precisely because it wasn't based on guesswork; it had to align with battlefield requirements. Ultimately, feedback from actual "users"—soldiers in combat—would dictate the rifle's practicality.
All of this demanded extensive testing, adjustments, feedback, more adjustments, and further testing…
For now, the priority was to build a prototype first.
While thinking, Browning sketched rapidly on the paper.
Dominique, following other assistants around to familiarize himself with the equipment, glanced occasionally at Browning's sketches. Unable to hold back, he suggested, "Sir, if you want to reduce weight, perhaps you could remove the detachable magazine."
Browning paused briefly, seeing merit in the suggestion. If ammunition capacity was within ten rounds, why not adopt an internal double-stack magazine instead?
He nodded thoughtfully and promptly eliminated the detachable magazine from his sketch.
At this moment, an assistant hurried over after receiving a phone call, announcing urgently, "Sir, Charles is here. He wants to see you."
Browning was startled. "It's only been a few days. Surely he doesn't expect me to complete a new rifle design so quickly?"
Dominique sighed quietly. "Sir, I don't think Charles is here to demand the rifle; he's likely bringing us the design."
"What?" Browning stared at Dominique in astonishment. "Are you saying Charles already designed it?"
Dominique nodded seriously. "Most likely."
Browning laughed in disbelief. "Impossible. He doesn't even have a lab! He's been busy commanding troops..."
"Sir," Dominique responded helplessly, "he designed the 'Saint-Étienne 2' machine gun under similar conditions and proposed the concept of a submachine gun."
"A submachine gun?"
Dominique suddenly realized he'd inadvertently revealed confidential military information.
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