Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 185: The weapon stood like a strange new sentinel foreign to many, but undeniably real.

Chapter 185: The weapon stood like a strange new sentinel foreign to many, but undeniably real.

The field outside Vincennes had been cleared, fenced, and transformed.

Barricades around the test site.

At the center stood a raised platform for the committee, flanked by military attachés, engineers, and a handful of government observers.

General Beauchamp arrived early, wrapped in his long coat.

But all eyes turned when Major Étienne Moreau stepped into view, followed by Delorme and Chevalier.

Unlike the officers seated in the gallery, they weren’t wearing parade dress.

Just workshop coats, leather folders under their arms.

Chairs creaked as the committee took their places twelve members new additions appointed after the shake-up.

Some faces looked eager.

Others skeptical.

One senator, a former artillery colonel, adjusted his scarf with deliberate boredom.

An admiral in full regalia peered through opera glasses at the venturi cone of the prototype standing on its bipod.

Beauchamp stood at the front of the platform.

"Today, we are not here for politics," he said firmly. "We are here to evaluate a weapon. Its utility, its economy, and its survivability in combat."

He turned to Moreau. "Major. Begin your presentation."

Moreau stepped forward with steady eyes. "This is a 20mm recoilless rifle, designed with a single mission to provide French infantry with a lightweight, mobile anti-armor capability."

He stepped aside and gestured to a blackboard behind him.

Delorme unfurled a series of technical diagrams and cutaway illustrations.

"It uses vented gases to neutralize recoil. That allows one soldier to carry it and fire without damaging their shoulder or requiring a complex mount. Our design incorporates a rifled barrel for accuracy, an aluminum buffer sleeve for heat control, and fin-stabilized shells that remain stable beyond 400 meters."

He let that sink in before continuing.

"Maximum penetration in our current tests 28 millimeters of hardened steel at 400 meters."

A murmur rippled through the back row.

"Weight?" asked a colonel.

"Eleven kilos unloaded," Moreau replied. "One-man portable. Fires from shoulder or bipod. Total crew requirement: one to two, depending on formation."

Another hand rose.

A civilian engineer.

"Explain the gas dispersion. Does it endanger friendly units to the rear?"

Chevalier stepped up. "The backblast cone is lethal up to five meters. To reduce risk, we’ve integrated a foldable steel blast shield that deploys under two seconds. It protects the shooter from overpressure and burns."

"What about barrel durability?" asked another.

Delorme answered. "Chrome-lined rifled steel. It’s cold-forged and field-strippable. We’ve run over a thousand live-fire cycles with minimal erosion. Cleaning required every hundred rounds."

The admiral narrowed his eyes. "What’s the failure mode in trench mud?"

"We’ve tested it in sand and snow," Chevalier said. "The breech is sealed but accessible. We even submerged it and fired in wet grit conditions no misfire, no blowback."

A strategist asked, "Reload time?"

Delorme replied, "Six seconds. Five-point-eight average in our drills."

"And the rounds?"

"Twenty by 180mm," Moreau said. "One-point-three kilos each. Carried in six-shell satchels or mule packs for platoons. Fin-stabilized HEAT, HE, and inert variants already modeled."

Beauchamp looked to the observers. "We’ll proceed to live fire."

A hush fell as the test began.

Two rusted Panzer I hulls salvaged from the Spanish front had been rolled into position fifty meters apart.

Behind them, straw bales caught the snow.

Moreau took the weapon.

Chevalier loaded the first round.

He didn’t say a word.

He took aim, held his breath, and fired.

A thunderclap burst from the barrel.

Fire jetted from the rear.

The shell moved across the field and punched cleanly through the first target’s flank.

Delorme stepped up.

A second round slid into place.

He fired.

"The second had a warped fin," Moreau said. "But it still impacted within the projected cone. Proof of functional tolerance."

The admiral took off his glasses.

Several committee members were leaning forward.

"What about sustained fire?"

"Five to six consecutive rounds without overheating," Chevalier said. "After that, pause to cool. The gas dispersion keeps the chamber temperature within safe limits."

"Could infantry reload this while under fire?"

"Yes," Delorme said. "In training, our conscripts did it while prone under stress drills. Under twelve seconds."

"Production cost?" a finance minister asked.

Moreau replied without flinching. "Current prototype is expensive, yes. But once standardized, it will be one-third the price of the PAP. Simpler optics. Fewer moving parts. Easy to mass-manufacture."

"What do we give up to fund this?" someone asked.

Beauchamp interjected. "We’ll address that after it’s approved. But ask yourselves this how much did we spend last year on tanks that didn’t come back?"

There was silence for a moment.

Another member spoke up. "And what’s the point here, Major? Where does this fit?"

Moreau answered firmly. "It replaces one man in every rifle squad. You keep the maneuver, but add armor deterrence. It allows ambush, delay, and flank disruption. It’s not a tank killer. It’s a tank problem creator."

"And who will train them?"

"We’ve drafted a basic program," Chevalier added. "Two-week course. One instructor per twenty-man group. Mostly rural conscripts."

A general raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about remaking part of the infantry corps."

"No," Moreau said. "I’m talking about giving it a future."

A long pause followed.

Then Beauchamp stood.

"Thank you, gentlemen. Major Moreau and his team will now depart. The committee will deliberate."

Moreau offered a crisp salute. "Yes, sir."

Delorme and Chevalier followed.

They left the prototype on display.

The weapon stood like a strange new sentinel foreign to many, but undeniably real.

As the heavy doors closed behind them, Delorme finally broke the silence. "They didn’t laugh."

"They listened," Chevalier said.

Moreau said nothing.

He climbed into the back of the waiting truck and stared back at the field.

Inside the tent, the room transformed.

Chairs shifted. fгeewebnovёl.com

Folders opened.

Coffee was passed around.

"Gentlemen," Beauchamp said, "that weapon works. Now we must decide if the Republic has room for it."

"It’s revolutionary," the admiral muttered. "But so was the machine gun."

"And it may upend every arms deal on the table," a senator said. "The factories are already loaded with PAP contracts."

Another scoffed. "This isn’t about paperwork. It’s about war."