◆ The Egyptian, Jihad Adnan, was cleaning his rifle.

In the desert conditions of the Sinai Peninsula, many firearms would quickly fail, developing all manner of malfunctions. Disassembling a weapon in the field to clear a malfunction was a miserable business. Once combat began, what a soldier yearned for was to destroy the enemy quickly, achieve victory, and then find safety and rest. As a veteran, Jihad understood perfectly well the importance of maintaining his weapon.

Carefully cleaning each part and reassembling the rifle, Jihad let out a satisfied sigh.

This Type 36 semi-automatic rifle had already seen considerable years. The oil can and cleaning brush were no longer the originals, and even the barrel had been replaced. But this old rifle remained the finest weapon Jihad had ever used, and he trusted this unassuming black gun completely.

◆ Royal Marine Thomas Anserley's eyes lit up. He pulled the rifle from beneath the Egyptian's prone corpse, inspected it, and then began carefully searching for accessories.

A Chinese Black Gun in good condition with a full set of accessories was a very valuable trophy for a British soldier.

Despite the objections and even punishments of their officers, most British soldiers stubbornly picked up every Chinese Black Gun they could get their hands on, setting aside the Lee-Enfield rifles they had been issued.

They would use captured ammunition until it ran out while repeatedly requesting appropriate barrels and bolt heads from logistics so they could use their issued ammunition — even sending private orders to domestic arms factories.

Just like their German predecessors.

◆ "Does this thing never break?"

"I've never heard of one breaking." Thomas proudly displayed his trophy to his envious companions, ignoring the lieutenant's disapproving stare beside him.

"There's Russian writing carved on it. Must have belonged to some unlucky Ivan."

"Pity it's chambered for 7.92mm Mauser."

"Well, at least it's still the original Chinese barrel." The Chinese characters on the barrel were perfectly clear. Not one of those cheap German-made substitutes.

In order to use 7.92mm Mauser ammunition in the Chinese Black Guns captured from the Soviets, the Germans had produced considerable numbers of Type 36 barrels and bolt heads. Eventually they ceased production of their own G41/43(W) semi-automatic rifles entirely and manufactured large quantities of Type 36 knockoffs with wooden stocks as standard infantry weapons. By the war's end, with Germany's resources depleted and skilled workers in short supply, even though the Black Gun's design was simple and easy to produce, the German copies were still regarded as shoddily made junk.

The Soviets had produced small batches of Chinese Black Gun parts. Large-scale production was entirely unnecessary: once China's factories went to full capacity, mountains of complete rifles and parts arrived via the Trans-Siberian Railway.

"A case of Foster's beer — I'll trade you for your Black Gun!"

"Not a chance! A case of beer will get you a Black Gun bayonet at most!"

"When I get home I can buy brand-new Black Gun hunting rifles straight from the Chinese factory — brand new, scope and all."

"You talk about getting home. Out here, I need this sweetheart to keep me alive. Once she's home, she becomes a collector's item."

—

The design requirements for the Chinese Black Gun were three in number:

The first requirement was simplicity — so simple that a person with no prior experience could quickly learn to use and maintain it on their own.

The second requirement was versatility — with only the simplest tools and a change of very few parts, it could fire different types of ammunition.

The third requirement was reliability — it had to function normally from the cold, muddy Soviet-German front to the hot, humid conditions of India.

Several research groups invested enormous effort over a long period and ultimately designed a semi-automatic rifle that was extremely cheap, extremely well suited to mass production, and met all requirements.

◆ Soviet Red Army soldier Alexei Shatolov knew that Chinese-made three-line cartridges had arrived on the Soviet-German front before the Chinese Black Guns.

The Russian soldiers were initially suspicious of Chinese-made ammunition. Russian domestically produced cartridges used brass casings. The later cheaper variants used copper-washed steel, which at least looked like brass. The Chinese rounds were simply steel cases painted with a coat of green lacquer — they looked unreliable and cheap.

"The Chinese comrades aren't fobbing us off with cheap trash, are they?"

Cheap, yes — the Chinese ammunition's production cost was indeed low. But the Russians had no idea just how low.

After the Chinese ammunition arrived, the regimental bore-sighting team ran their tests. Afterward, the Chinese rounds were collected and distributed to snipers and machine gunners.

And so, overnight, every soldier in the regiment knew: Chinese ammunition was good stuff — just like Chinese twice-distilled liquor, Yunnan cigarettes, and instant noodles.

By the time the Chinese Black Guns arrived, Alexei was already a seasoned veteran. Months earlier, his platoon leader had issued him a Tokarev semi-automatic rifle.

Alexei, a junior high graduate, was something of a "cultured man" in his platoon. He quickly grasped the Tokarev's operating principles and learned to use it.

He was reasonably satisfied with the Tokarev. Semi-automatic, magazine-fed, with firepower several times greater than the old Mosin-Nagant bolt-action — it could kill fascist bandits faster. That was what mattered most.

As for the occasional feeding jams, Alexei had some regrets. He later quietly sought out his hometown buddy in logistics and asked for Chinese ammunition. Chinese rounds used non-corrosive primers, which reduced malfunctions in rifles and also improved accuracy and stopping power.

A few months later, Alexei's regiment suddenly received a large shipment of Chinese Black Guns.

No explanation was needed. The Russian soldiers instantly recognized them as Chinese.

The black stock and body were made of plastic. Word was that Chairman Chen Ke of the Chinese People's Party was an outstanding chemist, and advanced plastics were something only China could produce.

The first thing you noticed picking one up was its lightness. ("The Chinese comrades aren't fobbing us off with cheap trash, are they?") Having learned his lesson from the Chinese ammunition, Alexei held his tongue.

What he didn't know was that the Chinese had indeed sent rather cheap merchandise — but they truly weren't fobbing anyone off.

The first rifle Alexei received upon enlisting had been heavier than everyone else's. His hometown logistics buddy had given him a look and handed him a dark-brown rifle. It was a Mosin-Nagant produced by the American Remington company for the Tsarist Russian army — captured by the Red Army from Kolchak's White forces. It was older than Alexei himself. But American goods were always a little better.

Despite its age, it was still a fine rifle. The walnut stock was heavy and dense, with beautiful grain. It felt solid in your hands, reassuring. Well, even if the day came when it wouldn't fire anymore, at least it made a very solid, very handsome club.

The Chinese gun was only about a meter long. Plastic stock. The magazine also appeared to be plastic. It felt lighter than both the Mosin-Nagant and the Tokarev.

It wasn't until the first time he disassembled it that Alexei was dumbfounded: just this many parts? This is a semi-automatic rifle? It's simpler than the manually operated Mosin-Nagant?

The Chinese gun used an inertia-recoil operating system. When the logistics staff first explained the theory, the grunts were thoroughly bewildered. But once they took the gun apart and laid out the few components, everyone immediately understood.

Field-stripping was simple: remove the magazine, clear the chamber, push out two pins with a bullet tip, and the entire rifle could be easily broken down into its major components. The trigger group and bolt could be further disassembled, but that was it.

But could this handful of springs and parts really achieve semi-automatic fire?

The logistics man deftly reassembled the rifle and began a firing demonstration. It really did go bang-bang-bang in rapid succession. In one minute, he emptied two magazines — thirty rounds, all on target at a hundred meters.

("Yep, Chinese goods are good stuff — just like twice-distilled liquor, Yunnan cigarettes, and instant noodles.") Even without having fired a single round himself, Alexei was already developing confidence in the little Black Gun. A rifle that fires, that shoots semi-automatically — what more do you need? And this gun was ridiculously easy to clean. Incomparably more convenient than the Tokarev.

Junior high graduate Alexei held a very simple belief: the fewer parts in a machine, the lower the probability of malfunction.

The Black Gun's magazine held fifteen rounds. It was made of steel wrapped in plastic and weighed half as much as the Tokarev's ten-round magazine. The Chinese supplied four magazines with each rifle — sixty rounds total — twice the capacity of the Tokarev's three magazines.

These magazines were absurdly tough. You could drop one on the ground, stomp on it with your boot, pour sand all over it, pick it up, shove it into the rifle, and it would feed normally.

The gun itself was equally robust. Water, sand, mud, ice, snow — give it a quick wipe, or don't even bother wiping it, just shake it — and it would fire. Semi-automatic fire, reliable as ever.

And the accuracy was excellent — on par with the Mosin-Nagant. Better than the Tokarev.

("Even if I die, this gun will keep on working, won't it?")

On both the magazine and the stock were four recessed Chinese characters: 中国制造 — "Made in China." Even without knowing Chinese, Alexei understood what they meant. He took his bayonet and carefully carved his name, birthplace, and date of birth into the stock. Military regulations strictly prohibited damaging weapons. But many veterans had done the same thing.

The situation was dire. His comrades were disappearing one by one. Even his pudgy hometown buddy from logistics was now clutching a rifle and crouching beside him in a shell crater.

Cradling his beloved Chinese Black Gun, Alexei finally drifted off to sleep under the influence of Chinese twice-distilled liquor.

The star of victory did not always shine upon Alexei's pudgy hometown friend. It was many years before his ashes were returned home.

His Chinese Black Gun was captured by the Germans, and eventually in Berlin it fell back into Soviet hands. She — (veterans used "she" instead of "it" to refer to their Black Guns, as in: "She's dark-skinned, but she's a fine girl.") — had been fitted with a terrible German barrel. These war trophies were placed in storage. A few years later, they were fitted with new Chinese barrels and sent around the world to support anti-colonialist struggles.

After capturing Black Guns, the British stubbornly continued using their Lee-Enfields. But the British Empire, gritting its teeth, invested considerable funds into plastics research.

American GIs brought quite a few Black Guns home as collectibles or for hunting. The Chinese later shipped large quantities of barrel and bolt head conversions chambered for .30-06 ammunition. They subsequently sold many civilian and hunting variants in all calibers on the American market. The Chinese even retained teams of lawyers to fight patent lawsuits against Remington and others, cracking down on various knockoffs.

And so America saw the emergence of all sorts of bizarre legislation, the gist of which was: if you wished to purchase or use a foreign-manufactured firearm, please pay extra taxes — or simply be denied permission.

Rumors also began circulating on the market that the Chinese Black Gun's plastic stock slowly released toxic substances, and so forth.

The Anglo-French expeditionary force was not defeated by the Egyptians. But under pressure from China, America, and the Soviet Union, they were forced to withdraw from the Suez Canal.

As British soldier Thomas Anserley slung his Chinese Black Gun over his shoulder and boarded the ship to leave, he did not realize that losing the Suez Canal meant the British Empire had lost all hope of revival: the newly crowned Queen had permanently lost her Indian crown.

Many years later, the fortunate Red Army soldier Alexei Shatolov had become a kindly grandfather. He never spoke of the war — not even when his beloved grandson begged him.

He hoped to travel to beautiful, warm China after retirement, and so he began teaching himself Chinese.

On the wall of his bedroom hung a Chinese-made black hunting rifle.