One afternoon in late July, Josh was leisurely enjoying afternoon tea in the garden while writing a letter to Margot.
Since arriving in the UK, Josh had made it a habit to write Margot a letter every week to let her know he was safe, and Margot always replied.
At this time, there were no transatlantic calls, and telegrams allowed only brief messages, so letters were still the most common form of long-distance communication.
Moreover, since Josh had connections, he could use military air transport and logistical networks, so it usually only took a few days for the letter to reach Margot.
Of course, this was mainly because his correspondence with Margot was usually casual and not classified.
If it were communication with Dix instead, it would be done via encrypted telegrams.
While Josh was writing, Vito drove a jeep into the estate, asked the servants where Josh was, and then hurried to the garden.
"Boss!"
"Looks like it's done?" Josh had just finished writing the letter, folded it, put it into an envelope, handed it to a waiter nearby, then picked up an empty cup and poured a glass of iced tea, pushing it to the other side of the table, signaling Vito to sit.
"It's done. The job was carried out by the younger brother of a high-ranking member of the Razor Gang. He's ground crew at RAF Brize Norton. It took more than half a month to identify the right plane, then he found a maintenance opportunity to place the item on board and wired it as you requested."
Vito didn't stand on ceremony, sat down and drank the iced tea in one gulp, then lowered his voice to speak.
"Well done! You've worked hard during this period. Take two days off and relax!" Josh smiled slightly upon hearing this, took out his wallet, pulled out a £1,000 white pound note, and handed it over.
Before WWII, Britain, as the most economically developed country in the world, had massive international trade volume each year. Even though the pound had strong purchasing power, issuing only £100 and £50 notes was insufficient, so the largest denomination of the time was £1,000 — in fact, after the war, a million-pound note was also issued, but that was specifically for the Marshall Plan, with only nine printed. The million-pound note in Mark Twain's story came from this.
However, by next year, these old white pounds would be declared void because, in the last few years of WWII, Germany had printed a whopping 1.4 billion pounds in counterfeit notes, throwing the market into chaos.
After that, the newly issued pounds — from 1945 to the late 1960s — would only go up to £5. With the colonial system collapsed and the rise of the dollar, the demand for high-denomination pounds dropped drastically.
But now that Josh was doing business in the UK, and with few dollars circulating in the British market and due to foreign exchange controls, he couldn't refuse pounds entirely.
So, when British elites came waving large-pound notes begging Josh to sell them goods, he reluctantly agreed — under certain terms.
First, he would not accept £5, £10, or £20 notes, as these had the highest market circulation and were the most commonly forged by the Germans.
Other denominations were accepted but only with a 30% markup.
And the pounds he received? Josh tried to spend them quickly — buying British industries and on daily expenses — all paid in pounds.
But when purchasing industries, the 30% markup didn't apply. In fact, he'd bargain at least 30% down.
Given the market conditions in Britain at the time, many fixed assets couldn't fetch good prices and had few buyers, giving Josh an ideal opportunity to buy cheap.
So, with these back-and-forth exchanges, Josh ended up making at least 60% more profit.
Indeed, war profiteering was extremely lucrative — no wonder even low-level officials risked violating national laws to get involved.
Hmm, Josh swore he wasn't insinuating anyone — just stating Britain's current state.
And because Josh now held large sums in pounds, he was generous when rewarding subordinates — starting at £100, and £1,000 for someone like Vito who had worked hard for over a week wasn't excessive.
"Thank you, boss!" Vito happily accepted the money and expressed his gratitude.
While Josh and other American businessmen might look down on pounds, Vito didn't. With £1,000, he could hire dozens of British women — high-class ones — and party for days.
Of course, Vito wouldn't actually do that. Even a body of steel couldn't handle that many women in one day.
"Oh, right, boss, on my way back I saw some old friends from the 82nd Division. They said the 82nd and 101st Divisions have returned to the UK for rest." Vito continued after pocketing the money. He had previously served in the 82nd Division, so it was natural he'd know people.
"Oh? Is that so?" Josh stroked his chin, then said, "Perfect. When you leave, go find Lindon. He should still have some fruit, beef, and ale. Have him take inventory and send a batch to Generals Ridgway and Taylor. Also, ask him to extend my invitation to the two generals and other senior officers — we'll host a banquet at the Ritz Hotel tomorrow night to celebrate their triumphant return. And be sure to send a personal invite to Lieutenant Winters of Easy Company."
As the war neared its end, the Allies had completely secured the Atlantic shipping lanes. Supplies flowing into the UK increased, and with Josh's earlier mass distribution of goods, Britain's basic supply situation had greatly improved. Although Josh's goods were still making him money — due to low costs — the days of obscene profit were fading.
Only fresh fruits, beef, and other high-end items still had significant demand.
But Josh had basically made enough. Aside from tobacco, his other businesses were winding down. Once the Allies recaptured Paris and moved into the European mainland, these goods could sell for better prices — land transport costs were far higher than sea freight.
As for surplus goods in external warehouses, Josh couldn't be bothered to take them back and simply gave them to the military to earn goodwill.
Especially Ridgway and Taylor — both had bright futures ahead.
Making friends now was definitely the right move.
And coincidentally, the next day during Josh's banquet for the two divisions' senior officers, a US Navy Air Squadron received a bombing mission. Less than an hour after takeoff, one of the bombers suddenly exploded mid-air, its debris scattered into the English Channel — not a single piece recoverable.
Such incidents weren't rare during WWII, so no one suspected foul play.
Only on the Navy's casualty list did a new name appear: Major Joseph Kennedy.
"Boss, thank you!" A few days later, when Lindon Schneider reported to Josh, he said with sincerity.
"Thank me? For what? I should be thanking you! Over the past two months, you've helped me earn so much — very well done. Here's your bonus!" Josh smiled and pushed a suitcase toward him.
But Lindon Schneider didn't accept the case with joy as Josh expected. Instead, he looked hesitant.
"What happened?" Seeing this, Josh's smile faded. Lindon knew full well the case held a large sum of money. With his personality, this wasn't normal.
Something was definitely wrong.
"Boss, someone from the old country came and wants to see you," Lindon hesitated for a while, then finally gritted his teeth and said it.
The old country? Josh was confused at first.
Then quickly realized what it meant.
If it were about Josh himself, then of course it would refer to China as the old country.
But coming from Lindon's mouth, there was only one possible meaning.
"Bavaria or Austria?" Josh asked, pondering.
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