Chapter 1905 - 1410: War Legacy (2)

"Zone B is for armored vehicles and heavy equipment."

Miller continued, his leather shoes making a regular sound on the concrete floor.

"According to the agreement, all main weapon systems of heavy weapons have been dismantled, and key modules of the fire control computers have been removed. But the chassis, armor, and engine are intact. If... someone could obtain the corresponding parts and technical support, they could restore combat capability in a relatively short time."

Song Heping finally found his voice, but as he spoke, he realized his throat was somewhat dry: "The quantity... is more than what's marked on the inventory."

"The inventory was based on a survey three months ago, and it might not be entirely accurate."

Miller turned to him, showing a subtle expression of helplessness and self-mockery on his face.

"During that period, we've withdrawn more 'excess materials' from Baghdad, Mosul, and Fallujah. Some were decided not to be transported back after being repaired from damage, some were old models left after troop re-equipment, and some..."

He paused, flipping through the documents on his tablet: "Are 'losses' listed in documents."

Song Heping understood.

This is the true picture of the war machine during withdrawal.

Plenty of equipment is left behind due to transport costs, political considerations, or purely bureaucratic decisions.

On paper, they might be 'to be destroyed,' 'already lost,' or 'transferred to local partners,' but in reality, they are just these piles of steel and gunpowder.

They continued walking deeper into the warehouse.

After passing through the armored vehicle zone, the view suddenly opened up.

This was a specially designated ammunition storage area.

The scenery here reminded Song Heping of the grain warehouses he saw in documentaries as a child. Except these were piles reaching near the roof, not of grain, but of death.

Rows of green metal ammunition boxes stacked like blocks, each marked with detailed labels.

5.56mm NATO Ball, 7.62mm Linked, 40mm HEDP Grenade... narrow passages left between boxes, with prominent red warning signs hanging from the ceiling every ten meters: "EXPLOSIVE - NO SMOKING - NO OPEN FLAME."

The air began to fill with another kind of smell.

The subtly sweet, dangerous scent of smokeless powder.

"Zone C is for ammunition and explosives."

Miller's voice unconsciously lowered, as if even sound could trigger disaster here.

"A total of about 2,000 tons, including light weapon ammunition, mortar shells, grenade launcher ammo, and some..."

He glanced at the tablet in his hand.

"'Special purpose' ammunition. All explosives are stored to the strictest standards, with temperature and humidity control, and regular inspections. But I must remind you, once they leave this controlled environment, the storage risk will rise exponentially."

Song Heping approached a row of ammunition boxes, reaching out to touch the cold metal surface.

The painted markings on the box indicated the production date: March 2013.

Location: Lake City Army Ammunition Plant, Missouri.

These bullets were manufactured in America, crossed oceans, shipped to the Middle East, and finally piled up in this underground warehouse, waiting for an unknown fate.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the true meaning of this number.

Hundreds of millions of rounds of ammunition.

If each bullet is 3 centimeters long, linking them end to end could circle the Earth's equator nine times.

If firing one bullet every second, uninterrupted, it would take one year and four months to use them all.

If each bullet found its target...

"Mr. Song?"

Song Heping opened his eyes to find Miller looking at him inquisitively.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Song Heping withdrew his hand: "Just... need some time to adapt to this scale."

Miller nodded, this time showing an almost understanding expression: "When I was first assigned here for inventory management, I felt something similar. We built this place, filled it, and then..."

He gestured.

"Left. Sometimes I wonder what archaeologists will think five hundred years from now when they uncover this place. Will they consider this as one of civilization's greatest achievements or as a testament to its madness?"

This was an unexpected, almost philosophical question.

Song Heping carefully examined this US Army captain, noticing the worn cuffs of his uniform and the shadows under his eyes from long night shifts.

This wasn't just a bureaucrat or soldier; this was someone who retained some thinking ability within the war machine.

"Perhaps both," Song Heping slowly said: "Humanity's greatest creativity and deepest madness are often two sides of the same coin."

Miller thoughtfully looked at him, then, after a moment, turned to gesture deeper into the warehouse: "There are also Zone D and E, which are respectively for communication equipment, night vision goggles, bulletproof vests, and other personal gear, as well as repair parts and spare components. According to the agreement, you have seventy-two hours for preliminary inventory and fifteen days for complete transfer. We will provide read-only access to the inventory database and ten soldiers to assist with the inventory, but they will not participate in moving or transportation."

"Fifteen days." Song Heping repeated the deadline: "Transporting 9,000 tons of ammunition and equipment across at least three active conflict zones."

"Those were the terms you agreed to." Miller's tone returned to being businesslike: "By the way, you're not the only party interested in this transfer. In the past forty-eight hours, we've detected seven unauthorized surveillance activities around the warehouse perimeter. Although the Iraq Military has promised to provide perimeter security, but..."