Hardy, accompanied by his bodyguard and secretary, flew to the U.S. Army Logistics Headquarters at Fort Bever, Virginia, on his private jet the same day. Upon landing at the military airport, several military vehicles awaited them. An officer saluted Hardy and said, "Hello, Mr. Hardy. General Williams sent us to pick you up."
"Thank you," Hardy replied.
They quickly arrived at the logistics headquarters and passed through security without issue. Hardy walked into Major General Williams' office, where the general stood up with a smile and embraced him.
After they sat down, coffee was brought in. Major General Williams said, "It's been half a year, hasn't it?"
"Yes, time flies."
Williams looked at Hardy and said with a smile, "Your progress has been impressive. Congratulations on establishing the Hardy Group. I hear you've acquired a bank and joined the California Consortium. Many of the Consortium's weapons manufacturers are military contractors. I know some of the logistics providers."
He continued, "Your TV station is thriving too. The 'Super Idol' talent show has become the most popular program in the U.S. My family loves it. My niece visited recently and mentioned she wanted to participate in the competition but was worried about the possibility of being eliminated."
"How old is your niece?" Hardy asked.
"Nineteen."
"What's her name?"
"Linda, Linda Williams."
"The audition is for people who love to sing. I'm sure Linda will do well. Encourage her to participate. There's still a month left for auditions," Hardy suggested.
"I'll let her know," Williams said with a smile.
Hardy planned to arrange for Linda to reach the final stages of the competition. He was confident Edward would ensure she advanced if she had any talent at all.
"Now, let me show you the supplies," Williams said, rising. "It's been a real headache managing all this."
They exited the building and got into a jeep. The convoy drove to a series of large warehouses, stopping in front of one. A guard at the door saluted upon seeing the general.
The warehouse door opened, revealing tall shelves packed with various items. Williams explained, "This is a sample warehouse. To make things easier, I had them bring a bit of everything here."
He added, "There are tens of thousands of categories of logistics materials, and the catalog file alone is as high as a person."
They approached a shelf with wooden boxes. "These are field ration boxes, categorized as B, C, K, and D."
Williams opened one box, revealing tin cans inside. "This is a B ration. The can includes butter, instant coffee, dry food, chocolate, chewing gum, cigarettes, matches, soap, water purification tablets, a can opener, and towels."
"Other ration boxes contain similar items, but with variations—some include candies, instant orange powder drinks, different cigarette brands, and dried vegetables, macaroni, or egg powder."
They moved to another box, which was full of canned luncheon meat. "These canned luncheons were a staple for the army. Billions of cans were consumed during the war. Do you know the production cost?"
Hardy shook his head.
"Each can costs only 12 cents," Williams said with a smile.
Hardy marveled at the efficiency of military logistics, noting how well they lived compared to other troops who struggled with inadequate supplies.
"Are these rations still used by the troops?" Hardy asked, curious about why such items were left over.
Williams shrugged. "The soldiers don't want to eat these anymore. If they were served these rations now, there would be a rebellion."
"Currently, they receive fresh vegetables and meat. The food is made fresh daily, and they still complain about it."
Williams picked up a can and weighed it in his hand. "Did you eat many of these during the war?"
Hardy nodded. "It made me sick."
Williams laughed. "Yes, everyone hated these cans. General Eisenhower once said that if he ever met the owner of the luncheon meat company, he'd shoot him, ha ha ha."
Williams continued, "The field rations here number around 10 million boxes, with 125 million cans of luncheon meat alone. The production capacity was so high that they could make 15 million cans a week to supply our millions of troops."
"When the war ended, production was halted, but a backlog of hundreds of millions of cans remained. Soldiers refused to eat them, often discarding the cans in secret."
"Now, these items have been stored for three years, and their expiration date is approaching. If we don't dispose of them, they'll just have to be thrown away."
"Can they still be eaten?" Hardy asked, concerned.
"Absolutely. When we bought them, the shelf life was set for over five years. They contain a lot of preservatives," Williams said, lowering his voice slightly, "These cans have no production or expiration dates, ha ha."
They moved on to open more boxes, revealing a range of items like canned chicken, beef, pork, fish, tomato juice, and honey.
Williams picked up a medical backpack and emptied it. "This is a medical soldier's backpack. It contains sulfa powder, morphine injections, bandages, and a full set of surgical instruments."
"In addition to individual medical equipment, there are hospital supplies—sterilization cotton, syringes, infusion hoses, etc. These will expire soon and will be discarded."
Next, Williams opened a box containing condoms. "Have you ever used these on the battlefield?"
Hardy shook his head. "Never."
They continued through the warehouse, finding bundles of military envelopes, Christmas cards, candles, flashlights, mosquito nets, and various sizes of military tents.
There were also ovens, ice cream machines, and coffee machines—tens of thousands of each. They proceeded to individual equipment: military uniforms, backpacks, water bottles, belts, helmets, blankets, shovels, and daggers.
Further in, they found an array of weapons: rifles, pistols, machine guns, and mortars. Williams explained, "After the war, with over 10 million retired soldiers, many items were eliminated and just piled up here. Whether used or new, they are stored with nowhere else to go."
As they went deeper, they saw larger items: motorcycles, jeeps, trucks, ammunition carriers, tracked vehicles, artillery, and even tanks.
"If planes and battleships could fit, they'd be here too," Williams joked.
Hardy was interested in the trucks. "General, I'm setting up a logistics company and need a lot of trucks. Do you have any suitable ones?"
Williams led him to the truck section and introduced the models: the Dodge WC62 (1.5 tons), GMC military truck (2.5 tons), Stibeck US6 truck (2.5 tons), and the White 666 truck (6 tons).
"The best items here are the cars and trucks, but I still have a batch in stock. How many do you want?" Williams asked.
"What's the price?" Hardy inquired.
Williams smiled. "Dodge WC62 trucks are $200 each, GMC 2.5-ton trucks are $300, Stibeck US6 trucks are also $300, and White 666 trucks are $500."
"Okay, I'll take them all," Hardy decided.
The prices were incredibly low—new vehicles cost more than ten times these prices.
Williams was surprised. "I have over 30,000 trucks here. You really want them all?"
Hardy, taken aback by the quantity, realized the scale of the purchase. Even though it would cost millions, he could resell them for profit. "No problem, give them to me."
Williams was pleased. "Since you want them all, I'll offer a discount and include extra accessories for each vehicle."
He leaned closer and whispered, "Don't worry, you'll get five times the standard accessories and some additional parts that are just gathering dust."
Back in Williams' office, the general showed Hardy a pile of documents and said, "These catalogs cover all the materials we have. What we just saw is only a portion."
He pointed to a photo of a freighter. "This type of freighter, with a 7,000-ton capacity, was produced during the war. We made over 2,700 of them. Now, most are just sitting idle in the port."
"Also, there are Victory freighters with a 15,000-ton capacity. Over 500 were produced, many of which are no longer needed."
"We're looking to sell these, but many countries can't afford them. It's a real headache."
Williams added, "If we don't sell, we'll have to pay high maintenance costs to keep them. Eventually, they'll just be dismantled for scrap."
"Then there are the airplanes—hundreds of thousands of them. Most are obsolete, sitting in the desert. Even selling parts is challenging."
"If we keep all these items, annual maintenance alone will cost $50 to $60 million. The federal government doesn't want to pay for it. They'd prefer giving them away rather than spending money every year."