Chapter 8: Alcohol-Driven Progress

The morning sunlight streamed through the window into the room filled with the smell of alcohol. The army cot, which was originally meant for one person, now squeezed three normal-sized men, making their bodies and limbs almost stack on top of each other.

"Ugh..."

Logan felt his head heavy and dizzy, but it was different from when he was injured before. He struggled to open his eyes and saw a thick leg pressing against his chest. No wonder he had nightmares all night!

"So heavy!" He struggled to move the leg away and sat up. He looked around and realized it was Captain Schultz's room. Turning his head, he saw Schultz and Stefenberg sleeping like logs.

Oh God... Did I really sleep in the same bed with them last night?

Logan slapped his head, thankful that this was wartime Germany. If it were in the Netherlands decades later, this situation would be hard to explain!

Trying to recall everything that happened last night—cabbage, gin, nonsense—several peculiar terms flashed in his mind: bazooka, submarine tank, flying tank, and bulletproof vest?

Oh God... Are these two also time travelers? No, it's impossible. Someone who doesn't even know what a bazooka is can't possibly have traveled from decades into the future!

"Hey, guys, wake up!" Logan shook Schultz and Stefenberg vigorously until they finally woke up.

"What's going on?" Schultz, whose neatly combed hair was now a mess, yawned.

"Ugh, my head! It hurts!" Stefenberg held his head in agony.

"Hey, did the three of us really finish a bottle of gin?" Logan asked, looking at the bottle on the table, which still had a bit of pale yellow liquid at the bottom.

Schultz glanced at the table blankly. "Hmm? I can handle half a dozen beers, but... this gin seems stronger than whiskey!"

"I can usually drink four pints of stout!" Stefenberg defended himself.

"Never mind, let's not talk about it outside! Guys, do you remember what we talked about last night?" Logan asked.

"What?" Schultz continued to mess with his nest-like hair.

"Women or weapons?" Stefenberg's response was somewhat sensible.

"I think... our inventions will change history! Guys!" Logan said excitedly.

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"Gentlemen, everything you've mentioned, except for the bulletproof vest, is completely unfamiliar to me! As for the bulletproof vest, it is said that during the previous war, various countries made some attempts, but it proved that only steel plates on tanks and armored vehicles could resist bullets and shrapnel. Any attempt to put such armor on oneself is completely impractical! As for the submarine tank and flying tank... that is far beyond my capabilities! However, Captain Logan's idea of the bazooka, I think, is worth a try!"

The technical officer speaking wore a grey, oil-stained work suit, with unkempt hair that seemed untouched for days. According to Schultz's description: "Don't judge him by his looks; he's actually 47, not 57! Despite looking like an uncultured laborer, he actually audited at the University of Stuttgart's Mechanical Engineering Department for three years!"

Age and education aside, when Logan learned that this man's name was Thomas Muller , he couldn't help but think of the German young talent who shone brightly at the 2010 World Cup. However, judging from this person's physique and appearance, he probably had little to do with the one with the same name seventy years later.

Upon hearing that there might be a chance, Logan quickly added, "The bazooka might theoretically be similar to a grenade launcher, but with greater power. It can at least take out an average tank! Or... something like a recoilless rifle! Have you heard of such a thing?"

"A recoilless rifle? Of course, it's a strange thing invented by the Russians. A military officer friend of mine once saw that thing at a Russian weapons testing ground! However... he thought that such a cannon completely lacked practicality! To develop a single-soldier anti-tank weapon, it's better to figure out how to turn the mortar into a direct fire weapon and equip it with armor-piercing shells!" Muller said indifferently. 

Logan thought for a moment. "I can't say for sure about the details, but it's definitely a single-soldier carried, single-soldier operated anti-tank weapon!"

"Oh, then I'll give it a try! I'll let you know if there's any progress!"

Muller calmly returned to his vw82 Kubelwagen. It seemed that they were planning to mount an MG34 machine gun on this light vehicle, weighing just over half a ton. After such a modification, it looked a bit like the US military's Jeep.

Logan wanted to impart more information to him, but Schultz pulled him aside. "Let's go, this guy has a weird temper. The more you force him to do something, the less willing he is to do it properly!"

"Maybe... we should report this very useful weapon to General Püschel and ask the High Command for assistance in solving technical problems?" Logan asked as they walked.

"You're crazy!" Schultz said, "Just for this nonsense we came up with while drunk? The temper of those generals in the High Command isn't very good! Forget it, let's wait until Muller comes up with something before we say anything! Maybe... it was just our drunken nonsense!"

Logan insisted, "But paratroopers really need a powerful single-soldier anti-tank weapon, otherwise encountering tanks like the Matilda during airborne operations would be a dead end, wouldn't it?"

"No, of course, it wouldn't be a dead end!" Schultz chuckled, "You can always retreat! Those tanks are slow, even a woman can outrun them!"

"Retreating may save lives, but the mission cannot be accomplished, can it?" This sentence apparently reminded Schultz of the previous military operations in the Netherlands. The Air Force captain thought for a moment with his hands on his hips. "Alright, if we bring two bottles of gin and go find him again at night, the effect should be better!"

Thinking about this morning's situation, Logan's scalp was still tingling. Nevertheless, as soon as it got dark, the two of them grabbed a picnic basket and went to Thomas Muller's residence. Muller didn't seem surprised at all by the second visit from the two captains. After a hard day's work, he was "eating and drinking well". In just a few minutes, he finished off a salted ham hock and four grilled sausages, and gulped down a large glass of gin without any hesitation. With that, the floodgates of conversation opened:

"Although I can't parachute and I dare not fly planes, my specialty lies in repairing and modifying various weapons. Not to brag, but within the entire 7th Paratrooper Division, I am the person who understands firearms, artillery, and vehicle performance the best, besides myself, there is no second person!"

"Hehe, that's for sure!" Schultz flattered, "That's why we come to you whenever we have ideas. Captain Logan and I believe that, apart from you, there's no one else in the entire 7th Parachute Division who could come up with new weapons like the rocket launcher!"

"Haha, Captain, you have a good eye! Actually, when you guys were getting beaten up in Holland, I was thinking: the weapons for paratroopers are too weak. Whether rifles, machine guns, or mortars, they're useless against enemy tanks! My previous idea was to create grenades with double the power, but unfortunately, I've been too busy lately. Otherwise..."

"Oh! Let's not bring up Holland, it's really embarrassing!" Schultz and Mueller clinked their glasses together, then each tilted their heads back and downed their drinks.

"Our future relies on you!" Schultz said, squinting his eyes.

"Don't worry, count on me! If it weren't for those damned secret police, I might have been the youngest PhD at the University of Stuttgart by now!" Mueller's emotions were running high. He wasn't Jewish, nor a murderer. A few years ago, he was a skilled technician at Henkel Company. But because he helped a Jewish woman during an "investigation" by the secret police, he was labeled a "Jewish sympathizer." Forced by circumstances, he had to enlist in the military with the help of friends, escaping persecution by the secret police.

Taking advantage, Logan poured more alcohol into Mueller's cup. "Exactly, those guys are all sons of bitches! Come on, for our common future, let's drink up!"

Mueller didn't refuse. "Sure, cheers!"

With that, they kept urging each other to drink. The three of them quickly finished off two bottles of gin, with half of it going into Mueller's mouth. After the last drink, the technical officer stood up unsteadily, "For victory! For Germany! For the Führer!"

Logan was about to go find another bottle, but he saw Mueller tilt backward and fall to the ground with a thud, soon starting to snore loudly...