Chapter 665
March. The ice and snow in Paris had completely melted, replaced by the swelling waters of the Seine.
As if aware of the hardship endured by civilians during wartime, the river remained just under the warning level this year—reaching only up to a Zouave soldier's chest at the Alma Bridge—allowing the people of Paris to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
As dusk fell, the roar of aircraft engines echoed above the Paris Aviation Club. Several planes landed in sequence.
Guards stood at full attention. They had cleared all surrounding journalists an hour earlier and even arrested several who tried to sneak photographs, accusing them of espionage and interrogating them on the spot.
Among the passengers was Charles. He arrived aboard a modified Avro, fitted with a more powerful engine and a newly developed enclosed glass cockpit. The aircraft was faster and more comfortable than standard models.
It had been Doern's suggestion.
He believed that, as a high-ranking commander constantly traveling between major cities, Charles needed a custom top-tier aircraft.
Faster travel meant saving valuable time, and at speeds of 150 km/h, it also increased safety and reduced the loiter time of his Camel escort fighters.
A comfortable cabin meant Charles could rest during flights, arriving refreshed and more efficient in his duties.
During the flight, Charles had truly felt how different he was from ordinary people.
He might be the first man on Earth to enjoy an enclosed cockpit, with top engineers focused solely on his safety, efficiency, and time.
Though Charles liked to believe in equality, the truth at this point was undeniable: he was no longer like everyone else—not from any perspective.
Waiting for him on the ground was Laurent.
He had just been promoted to lieutenant colonel.
"That's thanks to your expansion of the factory in Davaz, General," Laurent said with a grin as he skillfully steered the car through the streets of Paris.
"Artillery plants, labs, and now even a tank production line.
General Gallieni decided one infantry battalion wasn't enough to secure Davaz, so it's been expanded into a full regiment."
"I just happened to get promoted as a result."
Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle, he added, "I might be the only man in France who got promoted because of a factory expansion. Pretty lucky, right?"
Charles laughed. "You seem eager to see the front lines."
Laurent shrugged. "I do. And so do many in my unit."
"Why?" Charles asked, surprised.
"A lot of us lost family and friends on the battlefield. Others came back crippled and unable to work.
We're still intact—it feels like we owe them something."
His tone turned heavy. "We feel guilty for surviving while they didn't."
Charles fell silent.
Many civilians felt this way—they wanted to face the same hardships as those who suffered, even if it cost them their lives.
It eased their conscience.
But Charles wondered: had they considered that many capitalists were still enjoying life far behind the lines, treating frontline troops as toys or tools for profit and promotion?
This so-called fairness was nothing more than a lie fed to the people by those in power.
They arrived at the military command building.
Under a streetlamp, the sleepy guard on duty jolted upright the moment he saw Charles step out of the car, snapping into a perfect salute.
Charles returned it casually and walked up the steps.
…
Inside Gallieni's office, the lighting was dim.
The general was hunched over a desk, matching battlefield reports to a map of the Somme. When he saw Charles enter, he set down his glasses atop the map.
"You know what I want to talk to you about?" Gallieni asked.
Charles nodded. "It's about the British collapse at the Somme."
Gallieni grunted and handed him a file.
"The British lost hundreds of thousands of men and spent months gaining ten kilometers.
Then the Germans wiped out all that progress in three days—and things may still get worse."
Charles sat down across from him. "They want my forces to reinforce the front?"
Gallieni nodded again.
"This is in our interest, Charles.
We can't let the British Expeditionary Force collapse right in front of us.
If we do, not only will they be defeated, but our alliance could fall apart.
We'd risk being picked off by the Germans one by one."
Just yesterday, Haig had personally traveled to Paris to lobby the French government.
He had also spoken to Gallieni for over two hours, knowing that the general was rational and had influence over Charles.
Charles's voice was calm:
"I completely agree with your logic, General.
What I object to is Haig commanding me and my troops.
You may already know—even the British Prime Minister doesn't trust Haig's leadership."
It was true.
After Haig sacrificed 100,000 men at the Somme with almost no gain, Prime Minister David Lloyd George had lost all confidence in Haig's so-called military acumen.
Especially when compared to Charles's stunning victories, Haig's results looked all the more dismal.
(Image: British Prime Minister David Lloyd George during WWI)
But Haig belonged to the old British aristocracy.
His wife was a close friend of Queen Alexandra (even her chief bridesmaid), which made King George V utterly loyal to him.
Add to that Field Marshal Kitchener's heavy support, and Haig's command remained unshakable.
"That's what bureaucratic privilege gets you," Charles said with disdain.
"It's not war's choice.
It's not the choice of the soldiers dying on the front lines.
It's the choice of Britain's outdated aristocracy.
And the British Expeditionary Force is paying the price for it."
"If I compromise now, my troops will be the next ones that butcher wastes!"
Gallieni listened in silence, then responded:
"If that's your only concern, I think you can rest easy.
I've already discussed this with Haig. He'll be a commander in name only.
You'll retain independent operational and strategic authority."
"Then my decision is this," Charles replied without hesitation.
"No reinforcements."
Gallieni frowned. "I understand your frustration with Britain interfering in or trying to control France. I feel the same way. But Charles… this concerns the survival of France."
"I'm serious, General," Charles said.
"The British command at the Somme is in complete chaos.
They've got the African Corps, the New Zealanders, the Australians, and Indian troops all mixed together."
"And if we add the French army on top of that, what do you think will happen?"
"We won't even know which soldiers are our own."
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