Chapter 1022: Oil Strike

Under the scorching sun, in the desolate wilderness of Libya. If the brutal struggle on the Eastern Front represented the bloodiest and most desperate part of the war, then everything here exuded a primitive, barren flavor. Yet, this place could forge the future, because it had been confirmed to be rich in oil.

On an oil field built in the middle of the desert, a massive derrick rocked back and forth. On the machine’s nameplate, warmed by the sun, were lines of neatly engraved German words, indicating that this equipment had come from Germany’s “Imperial Petroleum Industrial Company.”

This company was an energy firm under the White Orchid Group, responsible for finding and developing the oil within Libya. Clearly, in the time that had passed, they had found oil and had managed to extract it. Although Libya’s infrastructure was extremely limited, with the stimulus of a resource like oil, nothing was a problem.

In the beginning, Italy and Germany had cooperated to exploit these oil resources. They had quickly built a pipeline that stretched all the way to Tunis. Later, this oil was used directly on the North African front, so the German army began to build oil processing plants in Tobruk and other places. Although the quality of the gasoline and other products was not high, it was far better than Germany’s coal-to-oil.

With this small oil industry, the Axis powers had saved a large number of oil transport ships in the Mediterranean. These saved ships, in turn, began to transport more ammunition and weapons. Axis transport had never been so smooth. The entire Mediterranean had become an inner lake for the Axis. Apart from the occasional British submarine sneaking in to lay a few mines, it was no different from peacetime.

As the early oil extraction process continued, more and more equipment and experts poured into Libya from Italy and Germany. Compared to the mature conditions in Romania, everything here was still in the primitive extraction stage. This was the stage where miracles were most likely to be born, and the easiest way for one to get rich. So everyone, filled with wonderful hopes, had rushed to this land to dig for their first pot of gold.

Of course, this place, compared to the distant Baku or the war-torn Middle East, also had a unique geographical advantage. Once the oil fields here were exploited on a large scale, the whole of Europe would gain another stable and secure oil supply station.

This was a huge temptation for Italy itself. The main reason for Mussolini’s wavering was that German technical experts had claimed that Italy’s colony, Libya, had oil reserves, and in no small amount. Since Italy had enough resources for post-war development, why bother fighting? With this in mind, some of the Italian high command, including Mussolini, had begun to study the possibility of Italy’s withdrawal from the war.

Not all countries wished to expand their own interests through aggression. At least, when their combat effectiveness was not as good as others’, Italy had begun to have its own crooked thoughts. Mussolini hoped that at a critical juncture, Italy could become another Switzerland, a neutral country making money from both sides.

Beside a well that was under construction, dozens of workers were toiling away. These workers were from Germany, and many were skilled laborers who had participated in the construction of the small Austrian oil fields. They had come here for the better exploitation of Libya’s oil.

They had been working continuously for more than ten days. For most of this time, their work had yielded no results. After all, Libya was too vast, and not all exploration and searching would be rewarded accordingly. Akado only knew that there was oil in Libya, but as for the specific locations, he really couldn’t remember clearly. He only vaguely recalled that it was south of Brega, not far from Ras Lanuf.

Fortunately, after a great deal of effort, they had finally confirmed an oil-producing location. And as for how large the reserves of this oil field were, they were unable to estimate. This was a huge oil field. At least, from the current look of things, this oil field was in no way inferior to the oil fields in Romania.

In order to extract the oil as quickly as possible, the Germans had helped Italy to prepare not only the technical workers and surveyors, but even the extraction equipment. The White Orchid Group had paid for a large amount of materials and had specially built oil storage facilities and refineries in port cities such as Benghazi.

Everything had been for this very moment. To say they weren’t nervous would be a lie. These workers and the several engineers in charge of the drilling were now nervously adjusting the well, bit by bit, hoping to see a pleasant surprise in a few minutes.

Time passed, second by second. No one spoke. Everyone was nervously watching the constantly working drill, hoping that in the next second, oil would come gushing out. If this oil field had the expected reserves, and if it could be ramped up to the same production capacity as Romania’s, then the Axis could immediately shed its “oil-poor” hat and become an alliance that was completely self-sufficient in oil.

“I say, chief… it should… it should be about to strike oil, right?” a worker, stripped to the waist, asked anxiously, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He spoke to a middle-aged technical worker beside him, who was also wearing only a hat and shorts, his upper body bare.

This worker had a rugged, angular beard, and he looked exceptionally calm and steady. But at this moment, he, too, was pursing his lips and saying nothing. His deep-set eyes were looking up at the derrick above, which was waiting to gush oil. It was clear that he was also very nervous, because at this moment, his heart was not as confident as usual.

Suddenly, he felt the ground beneath his feet tremble slightly, and his eyes widened. Everything was indeed as the Führer had expected. This place really did contain a large amount of oil reserves. With this small tremor, everyone tensed up.

A rumbling sound came from deep underground, as if something was about to break through its restraints and gush out. Soon, a black liquid spewed from the top of the well. This resource, more precious than gold, had just so abruptly appeared before everyone’s eyes.

“My God! We’ve struck oil! We’ve struck oil!” a female staff member shrieked with excitement. She threw her arms around a male worker beside her, who was covered in grease, and kissed him frantically, as if they were lovers who had been in love for a long time. Of course, everyone knew that they all had their own families back in their German homeland, and no one would take today’s events seriously. But no one would ever be able to forget such an exciting moment.

“Yes! We finally found it! We finally drilled it!” a man with glasses said, his voice trembling as he wiped away his tears. He muttered with excitement, “God, our hard work has finally paid off… Oh God, I’m just so excited.”

“Quick! Send a telegram to the White Orchid headquarters! Quick! Use the latest code! My God! We’ve struck it rich! We’re about to become heroes of the motherland!” the middle-aged man in the lead finally said, his first words in a long time. Perhaps because he was too excited, his hands were waving non-stop as he spoke.

The workers began to get busy, to get the well under control, and then to start mass-producing the precious oil. The officials in charge ran towards the tents behind them. That was where their radio was. They had to transmit this good news to the German homeland, thousands of miles away.

Libya’s oil production was beginning to expand, and it was to be expanded by more than just double. This good news was enough to make the entire country excited. The Empire’s economy would also be taken to a new level. This oil field would be like a shot in the arm, injecting new strength into the Empire’s war effort, allowing the Empire to finally achieve victory on the Eastern Front.

He took out the radio transmitter, connected the power cord from the diesel generator, and waited for the generator’s speed to stabilize. Only then did he, with slightly trembling hands, tap out the message according to the markings in the code book. After he had finished sending, he discovered that he had, without realizing it, burst into tears—tears of joy.

“My Führer!” An officer, after knocking on the office door and being granted entry, walked into the room. He stood at attention at the door and, waiting for Akado to look up from his documents, he raised his hand in a salute. “A message from Libya.”

This was undoubtedly good news. Akado was taken aback for a moment, and then, for some reason, he was overjoyed. “A message from Libya? Does that mean the oil exploration and extraction operations over there have made progress?”

The officer quickly nodded, then walked to Akado’s desk and placed the telegram on it. “My Führer, the telegram says that another oil field in Libya has begun to produce oil on a large scale. In less than a week, our oil production there will be more than doubled.”

Akado, of course, knew what “more than doubled” meant. It meant that Libya’s oil could finally, while supporting Rommel’s North African combat operations, begin to be sent back to the European continent. With this oil field, the Third Reich would no longer have to worry about a lack of fuel. Tens of thousands of tanks and tens of thousands of planes could be put into operation without any scruples, to completely destroy those die-hard enemies.

“Very good! More than doubled… Then, the oil pipeline to the port of Brega, and the transport roads and other projects, are they all completed?” Akado muttered to himself, then raised his voice and asked the head of the industrial department, Speer, who was sitting beside him.

“You’ll have to ask your wife, Ms. Mercedes, about the specific details, my Führer,” Speer said, making a rare joke. “I don’t need to say more. You should also know that just from the investment in Libya, my Führer, you are now the number one super-rich man in Germany.”

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