Chapter 450: Charles's Promise
The weather was clear and sunny on that Friday, with a sky as blue as it could be, without a cloud in sight.
The German soldiers stationed in Ghent, Belgium, gathered early that morning. Under the orders of several French majors, they stood in long lines, stacking their rifles neatly in front of prepared wooden crates to undergo body searches.
Next, they removed their helmets, unbuckled their armaments, and tore off their rank insignia before being allowed to walk to the other side.
The troops arriving for the surrender were those under Charles's command.
After German General Baierd issued his declaration that he would only surrender to Charles, the matter was settled once and for all.
Foch finally ceased his struggles. He made a show of conceding with a statement in the newspapers: "Charles deserves this honor. His achievements are unparalleled. As the Supreme Commander, I am proud of him."
However, admitting defeat at this point seemed too late. People had already seen through his pretense, and his reputation had been tarnished beyond repair.
For a victorious general like Charles, reputation might not be as important—after all, even if it was damaged, a few more victories would quickly make people forget, and they would once again cheer for him.
But for Foch, who had little to show for himself on the battlefield, reputation was everything—it was practically his future.
Many, including members of the French Parliament, began to question whether Foch still deserved to remain in the position of Supreme Commander. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to replace him with someone else to lead.
Once this doubt took root, people began scrutinizing every word and action of Foch's. His fate was sealed.
...
Charles walked into Ghent with his troops, a gesture meant to show respect to the defeated Germans.
"You don't need to do this, General," Tiziani remarked, disagreeing. "Do you know what the Germans did when we lost the Franco-Prussian War?"
Before Charles could answer, Tiziani continued, his voice filled with anger:
"William I entered Paris riding a fine horse, surrounded by nobles, while French aristocrats lined both sides, bowing down in fear, hoping the Germans wouldn't throw them on the guillotine."
"Although William didn't do that, he still chose to hold his coronation in the Palace of Versailles, declaring the formation of the German Empire."
"This remains an open wound in the hearts of all Frenchmen—one that will never heal!"
The implication in Tiziani's words was clear: Charles should humiliate the surrendering German forces as the Germans had humiliated France.
But Charles responded, "And then what? Would other Germans choose to fight to the bitter end just to avoid such humiliation?"
Tiziani paused, then understood. He looked at Charles with newfound respect.
This was the way a true military strategist thought. Unlike ordinary people, Charles was not driven by anger or pride; he considered the military interests first and foremost.
Because Charles chose to walk, other officers, including King Albert I, also walked alongside him.
Behind them were the rumbling sounds of tanks, armored vehicles, and Saint-Simon self-propelled artillery.
The procession was not large—there was only one battalion of armored and mechanized troops, totaling a little over a thousand men, and only about twenty tanks.
The Belgian people, who had gathered in full regalia to welcome the arrival of Charles's army, were stunned. They had expected to see a powerful force but were instead met by such a small group.
Confusion spread, and even the cheers grew weaker. People craned their necks, whispering amongst themselves:
"Where are the main forces?"
"These must be Charles's guards!"
"Are the other troops stationed outside the city?"
...
Soon, someone reacted with astonishment. They exclaimed, "Oh my God, this is all the army Charles brought. He only brought a thousand men to accept the surrender of over a hundred thousand Germans!"
As this realization sank in, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, chanting Charles's name over and over again.
This was the effect Charles had wanted.
Before this, Charles had always been cautious about making public appearances at specific times, fearing assassination attempts from the enemy.
But surrender was different—it was precisely the moment to show courage. Not only would it inspire the Allied forces, but it would also psychologically affect the German soldiers, whether they were surrendering or not.
The troops stopped in the center of Ghent Square, with the French and German armies facing each other in formation.
The German forces had been disarmed, while the French soldiers stood ready, helmets on, guns loaded, with tanks behind them pointing their cannons menacingly forward—an intimidating sight compared to the defeated Germans.
The market in Ghent Square, a centuries-old tradition, was usually held every Friday, but today it had been canceled.
The people gathered there, holding Belgian and French flags, waiting quietly for the moment the Germans would officially surrender.
As Charles stood in the center of the line, all the German soldiers turned their eyes toward him.
Their gazes were complex—some held respect, others concern—but most were filled with shock and disbelief, as if they couldn't believe the young man who had defeated them was standing before them.
German General Baierd, however, remained calm. As a senior officer, he had long known that Charles was barely eighteen years old.
Many of the soldiers didn't know, as the German high command had restricted any discussion of Charles's achievements.
This was because they believed that even talking about Charles's victories could impact the morale of their troops.
The military band began playing the drums, their beat slow at first, then accelerating before suddenly stopping, signaling that the ceremony could proceed to the next stage.
General Baierd walked with confidence toward Charles, stood tall, then slightly bent his waist and handed over his sword with both hands, saying, "You have won, General. I accept my defeat with a full heart."
He then glanced around at the other walking officers and soldiers and nodded to them, saying, "Thank you for preserving our final dignity. This is important to us."
Charles took the sword with both hands. "I should thank you, General."
"What?" General Baierd asked, confused.
"You made me your designated surrender recipient," Charles replied with a touch of self-mockery. "I almost lost to my own men."
Baierd managed a strained smile. "That was only right. You are the one who defeated us."
"You did well," Charles said, turning to address all the surrendering German soldiers. "You've done your best. For the battle that couldn't be won, we should lay down our weapons this way. You are still heroes. You will be treated well. This is my promise to you."
The German soldiers breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had received Charles's promise!
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