World War II: Starting with the defeat of the Desert Fox

Chapter 4 Two Obstacles

Wells' villa was empty, not because there were few decorations, but because the appliances and furniture that should have been there had been sold to pay the workers' wages.

The only valuable thing inside was the telephone placed by the door. Wells believed that without even a telephone, the oil company would be completely finished.

Under the incandescent light, Emma placed a plate of mashed potatoes on the dining table and then gave two slices of bread to the person opposite her.

She was slender, wearing a faded cotton dress that hugged her thin shoulders. Her light golden hair was casually tied back, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheeks, bathed in the soft honey color of the dim incandescent light.

When she saw Thorne appear at the door, she excitedly rushed up to hug him.

"You're back, my child. I've been worried about you every day."

"Don't worry, Mom!" Thorne replied with a smile. "I'm all grown up now. I can take care of myself."

"Of course." Emma looked at Thorne gently from a distance and nodded softly. "I have never doubted that."

Then she noticed Wells's beaming face and asked, puzzled, "Good news?"

"Of course, darling." Wells held up the quota and praised, "Look what Thorne got? A military quota."

Emma stared at him in surprise, then turned her gaze to Thorne, before finally stepping forward with a delighted expression to take the documents.

Then, a sudden light shone on her face, her nose turned slightly red, and her lips parted slightly in surprise.

"God, it really is a military quota." She looked at Thorne incredulously. "How did you manage that?"

Thorne smiled. "It was just a bit of luck."

He couldn't reveal anything; it was a military secret, and he couldn't even tell his parents.

Wells chuckled and walked to the table, gesturing for the two to sit down, his gaze never leaving Thorne: "Is it because of those tanks?"

"What?" Thorne asked, puzzled.

"Stop playing dumb!" Wells laughed heartily.

"I've heard about a batch of American tanks."

"They use aircraft engines, which require higher octane aviation fuel."

"Uh!" Thorne hesitated for a moment, "Okay, sort of!"

Wells had some connections; he knew about the existence of the M3 Grant tank and that it used aviation fuel.

But he overlooked one point: if necessary, the oil giants also had the capacity to supply high-octane aviation fuel; otherwise, there wouldn't be so many British planes in the skies over North Africa.

However, Thorne didn't point it out. He picked up a knife, spread the mashed potatoes on the bread, and added a little butter.

This was a common meal for middle-class British people during the war; they called it a "potato sandwich."

Emma, ​​still holding the documents, sensed something was wrong:

"There are also annotations."

"Prioritize the supply of refining feedstock to the Red Sea oilfields across all departments."

"Was this written by General Montgomery?"

Emma glanced at Thorne with a hint of doubt. Red Sea Oil Company was just a small company, so why would it attract such attention from General Montgomery?

"Yes," Thorne nodded, biting into his bread, and answered vaguely, "It has the general's autograph on it."

He tried to shift the focus to the authenticity of the documents.

Wells chuckled:

"Nothing strange, darling. You don't understand how short of fuel the military is, especially at critical moments in the war."

"Women wouldn't understand these things. It was just those disgusting giants who stood in the way before."

"We shouldn't be treated like this; this is how we should be treated."

The implication is that the quota system was not entirely Thorne's doing, but rather a result of the military's needs.

Thorne didn't refute it; he preferred Wells to think that way.

However, glancing at his mother, he could tell from the expression on her face that he hadn't been able to hide it from her.

The mother was always the one in charge at home, but each time, the shrewd woman would cleverly make the father believe that she was the one making the decisions.

After dinner, Wells went upstairs to wash up, feeling quite satisfied.

Thorne was about to get up when Emma stopped him.

"Thorn," Emma's gaze fixed on Thorne, "There are things you can't say, aren't there?"

"Yes, Mom," Thorne could only admit.

Emma sat across from Thorne, looking at him quietly: "Do you know why I insisted on keeping the oil company? It was destined to lose money ever since it came under wartime control, and we all knew that was the best time to sell it."

"Yes," Thorne nodded. "I know you don't want me to go to the battlefield."

Holding an important position in an oil company can exempt one from military service.

Emma slowed down her speech:

"Therefore, I don't want you to get too involved with the military, otherwise you might find yourself unable to extricate yourself."

"We are businessmen, Thorne."

"We need to think more about how to survive in this chaotic world, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother," Thorne replied, "I understand!"

"Very good." Emma nodded with satisfaction. "You're a smart child, and I believe you know what to do."

What she didn't know was that Thorne didn't really mean what he said.

In a chaotic world where war is the top priority, it seems unrealistic to survive without getting involved with the military.

Emma didn't continue the topic; her gaze returned to the quota list in her hand: "With this, we can reopen the refinery, but there are still two obstacles in our way."

"Two paths?" Thorne was somewhat surprised, as he had assumed the road ahead was clear and unobstructed.

Emma provided the answer:

"First, we need loans. We need funds to recruit workers so that the refinery can get back into operation."

"However, I don't think that's a big problem."

Emma waved the quota sheet: "With the general's approval, I believe the bank will agree to provide us with a loan."

"Yes," Thorne agreed.

At this time, Egypt was nominally an independent country, but in reality, it was a British colony.

With General Montgomery wielding real power, his annotations and seals were equivalent to imperial edicts, and no one dared to object, including the banks.

Then Thorne asked curiously, "What's the other obstacle?"

Emma put down the ration sheet, got up to clear the plates, and as she carried them to the kitchen, she asked herself a question and answered it:

"Do you think the oil giants will just give up?"

"No, Thorne."

"Think about what their most common tactics are, I mean, if an open acquisition fails."

Thorne considered for a moment; in fact, he was searching the original owner's memories.

Then a thought struck him: "You mean, Bassim?"

Bassim was a local tyrant who frequently brought his men to the company to intimidate, incite, and extort money.

Of course, Thorne knew that they were acting on Shell's instructions to take a two-pronged approach against the oil company.

However, Thorne was somewhat skeptical: "Anderson saw the general's annotations today; they should know this is unusual."

"Perhaps," Emma said, peeking out from the kitchen.

"But there is another possibility: they think we only persuaded General Montgomery."

"Or perhaps, like your father thought, they believed the military desperately needed fuel, which is why they made that annotation."

"More importantly, they can distance themselves from Barshim. So..."

Thorne had to admit that Emma was right.

Another factor is that, given the current chaos, Shell might assume that Montgomery's attention is entirely focused on dealing with Rommel and that he won't be paying attention to the bankruptcy of a small company in the background.

Thorne smiled slightly.

If that's really what they're thinking, then they've really messed up!