Chapter 130: Chapter 130: I Only Directed That Battle
Chapter 130: I Only Directed That Battle
The rain over Ypres continued to fall, seemingly endless, as the fighting came to a close. The German army had suffered staggering losses, with over ten thousand casualties in just two days, while Belgian losses remained minimal.
What was even more crucial was the growing sentiment among the German forces, including General Cross himself: they simply could not defeat the enemy entrenched across from them, despite their numerical advantage. So, under mounting pressure from Chief of Staff Falkenhayn, Cross repeatedly refused to organize another offensive.
In one of his dispatches to Falkenhayn, Cross argued, "As long as the enemy holds air superiority, our so-called 'attacks' are nothing but sending men to the front as targets. I refuse to do this."
Soon after, French reinforcements arrived, further solidifying Cross's decision to halt the offensive. General Foch assumed command at Ypres. Everyone expected him to launch an immediate assault, given his typical aggressive style, yet to everyone's surprise, Foch did nothing of the sort.
Instead, he rotated the French soldiers into the frontline positions, allowing the weary Belgian troops to rest. Foch established a rotation system for guarding the front, making no changes to the existing deployment. Even the artillery remained stationed five kilometers behind the front line, just as it had been during the previous engagement.
Many, including King Albert, speculated that Charles's defensive setup was so flawless that even a military strategist like Foch dared not alter it. General Charles's analysis perhaps best explained Foch's stance:
"General Foch is a clever man. Building upon Charles's successful defensive position, he knows that any offensive of his that incurs heavy losses without significant progress would only discredit him in front of everyone. It might even lead to his military theories being dismissed altogether. So, he's content to let others speculate, even if it casts him in a less favorable light."
...
Charles, meanwhile, hadn't given such matters a thought—he was simply enjoying a two-day leave. He sometimes wondered what would happen if his leave were called in the middle of a battle. Would he just leave the battlefield and the First Air Squadron behind to enjoy his time off? Who knew if Gallieni would let him!
Fortunately, it hadn't come to that yet. Even during his assignment to Antwerp, he'd managed to return "just in time" for the second night.
That morning, Charles had breakfast at home. Compared to the mess hall's fare, he far preferred Camille's apple pastries. And more importantly, if he skipped breakfast at home, she'd insist he eat something upon his return.
As Charles enjoyed a warm, flaky apple pastry with his milk, the latest issue of Le Petit Journal was, as usual, kindly delivered by the neighbors.
"This time it's Ypres, Mrs. Bernard!" a neighbor exclaimed. "Charles won another remarkable victory!"
Camille's face grew visibly tense as she shot Charles a sharp glance, rushing to retrieve the newspaper. Scanning it, she brandished it toward him, her eyes filled with disbelief and frustration. "They sent you to the front again?"
"No, Mother," Charles replied. "I was in Paris the whole time. I only directed the battle—over the phone and telegraph."
At this, Camille relaxed, relieved. She cared only about Charles being safe; she didn't understand nor need to understand the specifics.
"Directed?" Deyoka looked up from the newspaper he'd taken from Camille, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he paused, staring at Charles with disbelief. "Are you saying you commanded the Battle of Ypres?"
"Part of it," Charles corrected.
"Which part?" Deyoka asked.
"The aviation side, mostly," Charles said, pausing to consider whether he should disclose the specific unit number. "There was also artillery support, but only a little."
Charles had coordinated the artillery in several critical ways, such as determining the placement and timing for firing. Gallieni, meanwhile, had overseen logistics and organization.
Deyoka swallowed hard. He'd heard rumors over the past few days about the French army mounting machine guns on aircraft and winning a significant victory at Ypres. Even with superior numbers, the German forces there had been hesitant to attack. Deyoka had suspected that Charles might be involved, but hadn't anticipated this extent.
"I just hope you didn't do it to sell more tractors," Deyoka laughed.
Charles nodded. "Actually, it was somewhat related to that."
The two exchanged knowing smiles.
While the public marveled at the planes and artillery on the battlefield, few realized that all 152 cannons used by the four artillery battalions at Ypres had been towed through the muddy terrain by tractors. Over 300 tractors moved supplies from the railhead to the front, hauling munitions to the guns and ferrying the wounded back from the frontlines.
Gallieni had initially purchased 500 Holt 60 tractors from Charles, only to place another order for 500 more at 2,500 francs each. These two orders alone had already brought Charles 2.5 million francs.
Notably, Charles had purchased the same Holt 60s from Francis at a mere 900 francs per unit, making a profit of 1,600 francs on each one—a tremendous markup. And it didn't end there. Charles still had 800 Holt 60s in stock, and with the rainy season setting in, it was all but certain the military would need even more. The opportunity for more profits loomed large.
Thanks to this single transaction, Charles had already doubled his wealth.
Camille, unaware of the tractor deal, asked with a hint of curiosity, "Tractors? What tractors?"
"Nothing, just tractor business," Deyoka answered, winking at Charles, who understood his intent. Deyoka preferred not to involve Camille in anything connected to Francis.
...
Meanwhile, in his own villa, Francis sat alone on a couch, puffing away at his pipe, looking as sour as the tobacco burning within it.
He'd begun to suspect he'd been swindled. He'd heard that the military had recently bought a significant number of Holt 60 tractors for the front, yet none of those orders had come through him.
The only reasonable explanation was that the military had acquired those Holt 60s from Valterne—the very ones he'd sold at a discount. So much for the Algerian aristocrat who was supposedly buying them for farming purposes. It had all been a lie; Valterne must have sold them directly to the military at a considerable profit.
Had Grevi and Armand known about this? They hadn't given him any warning or information from their positions in the parliament. Were they in on it as well?
Suddenly, Francis felt a pang of isolation, a sense that everyone had betrayed him, leaving him in the dark and playing the fool.
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