mesbooks Chapter 687 Surrender Ceremony
Chapter 687 Surrender Ceremony
After Schmidt finished speaking, his gray-blue eyes widened, his face a mixture of pride and indignation.
"If we have just six more months... no, three more months, the extended-range version of the V-3 will be ready for combat, and the test-firing data for the 'Rheinmetall Messenger' is also very promising..." He clenched his fist, recounting the unfinished advanced technologies, "And the jet aircraft, the wind tunnel testing of the Ta-183 has already..."
He never imagined that Hans's defeat was multifaceted.
Resource depletion, logistical collapse, and fighting on two fronts are dire situations that cannot be salvaged by one or two doomsday weapons.
Zhang Chi didn't seem to notice the resentment in Schmidt's words.
Hans has no grudges against Southeast Asia, and as long as these scientists are diligent and hardworking, leaving their knowledge in Southeast Asia, it's harmless for them to grumble and reminisce about their "past glory" from time to time.
Perhaps this sense of dissatisfaction can be transformed into motivation for research and development?
However, he understood that Schmidt's description of the Rhine Envoy, with its staged combustion and step-by-step separation, had already touched the threshold of later space rockets and intercontinental missiles.
This is indeed the direction of the future.
“The idea of phased advancement is good and can be used as a long-term goal,” Zhang Chi affirmed. “But at present, our primary task is to thoroughly understand the V-2 and reverse engineer and improve it to create a reliable and usable tactical missile.”
Upon hearing this, Schmidt's emotions calmed down slightly, and he then brought up another matter:
"Your Excellency, those miniature transistors you provided... are truly ingenious."
His eyes shone:
“We are trying to use it to improve the circuitry of the gyroscope and accelerometer. Combined with our existing mechanical platform, it is theoretically possible to build a smaller and more precise inertial guidance system, which I believe will greatly help improve accuracy.”
Zhang Chi chuckled inwardly. The transistor technology at the level of the 60s could naturally amaze this Hans from the 40s.
He nodded, signaling Schmidt to continue.
"Inertial guidance, its core lies in 'autonomy' and 'closedness'." Schmidt spoke faster when discussing his field of expertise, and the translator next to him had difficulty keeping up.
"It doesn't rely on any external information, such as starlight or radio waves. At its core is a platform that, regardless of how the rocket rolls or pitches, maintains a stable orientation through the efforts of its gyroscopes..."
He gestured with his hands as he spoke:
"Imagine this platform inside the rocket, like a ship on a stormy sea, always pointing straight at North Star no matter how turbulent it is. The accelerometers mounted on the platform are like the most sensitive ears, constantly listening to every tiny change in the rocket's speed—too fast, too slow, veering left, veering right…"
“All these subtle changes are captured by the accelerometer and converted into electrical signals. Then…” Schmidt looked at Zhang Chi, his eyes burning, “relying on those amazing transistors you provided, the computing device we built can, like the most brilliant mathematician, quickly calculate how far the rocket has traveled, how much it has yawed, and its exact location based on these speed changes…”
"Finally, the computing device will issue instructions to drive those gas-operated or, in the future, aerodynamic rudders, like a rider manipulating reins, to continuously and subtly adjust the rocket's flight attitude, trying to pull it back to the predetermined trajectory until it hits the target," Schmidt summarized. "The whole process is completely self-consistent, like a precise internal loop, unaffected by external interference. That's the charm of inertial guidance."
Zhang Chi listened very carefully.
He understood that in the era before satellite navigation, inertial guidance was the only feasible long-range missile navigation solution.
But he was also aware of its inherent limitations—even the most precise gyroscope will drift, and even the most sensitive accelerometer will have errors.
These tiny errors accumulate over long-haul flights, leading to a situation where "a small difference can result in a huge error."
Even with the highest precision, there is a physical limit.
To achieve even greater accuracy, satellites and other guidance methods are needed.
The conversation then turned to the more practical issue of cost.
Lu Guofu took out the prepared documents:
"Your Excellency, according to preliminary calculations, the cost of simply copying the V-2, not including R&D costs, is approximately US$2, which is equivalent to 4 Southeast Asian dollars."
"The bulk of the cost is in liquid oxygen and alcohol fuel, followed by the smelting and processing of special steel for the projectile body, the precision manufacturing of the rocket engine, and this inertial navigation system."
Zhang Chi did the math: 4 Southeast Asian dollars, currently enough to produce a 1.5-ton truck himself...
He pointed to the figures on the report: "If we want to make improvements, such as increasing the range, increasing the payload, or improving accuracy, then the cost per unit will be hard to say after factoring in the R&D expenses..."
Zhang Chi glanced at him sideways: "What, you want more of the R&D budget?"
Lu Guofu, his thoughts exposed, showed no embarrassment whatsoever. Instead, he burst into laughter: "Sir, you truly have discerning eyes. Even this little scheme couldn't escape your notice. You see, there are indeed many places where money will be needed for these subsequent improvements..."
Zhang Chi didn't say anything more.
He knew perfectly well that defense spending, especially on technologies that were crucial to future strategic advantage, absolutely could not be cut back.
The development of the V-2 and its successors is not only crucial to the formation of the future surface-to-surface missile technology tree in Southeast Asia, but also the key to unlocking aerospace technology.
Putting aside other things, which of the future communication satellites and reconnaissance satellites will not need a reliable high-thrust rocket to send them into space?
“The money will be allocated as planned,” Zhang Chi finally decided. “But I need to see progress. The next step, in addition to thoroughly understanding inertial guidance, is to try to install a radio command system on the rocket so that the ground can assist in correcting the trajectory in the initial stage.”
"On the other hand, the key is to increase the effective payload. A 1-ton warhead is not enough to carry a nuclear bomb, and the power of explosives alone is far from sufficient."
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September 2, 1945, Tokyo Bay.
The massive hull of the USS Missouri resembled a steel mountain in the morning light.
The Stars and Stripes flew high on the mainmast, and the main guns, with their massive cannons pointing skyward, stood solemnly silent.
Qi Quan, commander of the Nanyang Expeditionary Force, stood in the ranks of the Allied representatives accepting the surrender, dressed in a crisp Nanyang military uniform.
His position wasn't the most central, but it was enough for him to see everything clearly ahead.
Under Qi Quan's watchful gaze, Japanese Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu, Chief of the General Staff Yoshijiro Umezu, and other representatives boarded the warship with blank expressions.
They were dressed in worn-out formal attire, their steps heavy.
Under countless gazes, the scrutiny of the victors, the witness of history, and the recording of camera lenses, Mamoru Shigemitsu bent down with difficulty and signed his name on the surrender document.
In that instant, Qi Quan felt a surge of heat rise in his chest. He forcibly suppressed it, but his jawline tightened even more.
ended.
From the jungles of the Savage Mountain to Tokyo Bay, countless sacrifices and struggles have finally brought about this moment.
He silently prayed in his heart: Brothers, you can rest in peace now.
On the same day, outside Yangon, at the First Prisoner of War Camp.
Park Jung-soo, a former Japanese auxiliary military officer and now a prisoner of war, was lying idly in the barracks with several fellow villagers.
The door was pushed open, and the familiar correctional officer walked in.
"Park Jung-soo!"
"Here!" Park Jung-soo jumped up with a start, stood at attention, and habitually put on a fawning smile.
The supervising officer wore a rare hint of relief: "I have some news for you. The Japanese officially signed the unconditional surrender document today in Tokyo Bay. The war is completely over."
Park Jung-soo was stunned, his eyes widening instantly.
"Your hometown, the peninsula, has also been liberated and is no longer a colony of the Japanese."
An immense joy exploded in Park Jung-soo's mind like a cannonball.
His mouth was open, he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, and his expression twisted for a moment.
He grabbed the correctional officer's hand tightly: "Sir, is it true? Is it true? That's great! That's great!"