Chapter 370: If You Want to Win, Buy My Cannons!
This was the perfect time for Charles to enter the insurance industry.
The devastation of war and recent fires had shaken investors' confidence in the sector, meaning there would be little competition, and buying insurance companies would come cheap. Charles's entry would allow him to set higher premiums because of the increased risks.
Additionally, during periods of high inflation, people would increasingly see insurance as a safe investment, as keeping cash meant watching it erode in value.
Charles's insider knowledge gave him another advantage—he knew which areas were safe and which were dangerous. For example, Verdun was off-limits, but Paris was fair game. There would be no risk of German occupation for over two decades.
(Note: Germany did not occupy Paris again until 1940, during WWII.)
As for potential risks to Paris, the only possible threat would be Germany's "Paris Gun." However, this weapon would do negligible damage compared to the value of the city. In fact, Charles could even turn this into a selling point: "Worried about damage to your property from bombings? Insure with us, and we'll double your payout in the event of any loss!"
It was a perfect advertising line. And the key factor here was "Charles"—his name was practically a good luck charm.
The next morning, Charles woke up in his small room at home. Though the police training base had more comfortable accommodations, complete with guards and personal attendants, Charles always found he could only truly relax and get a deep night's sleep here at home.
Maybe that was what they meant by "home."
After a quick wash, he went downstairs for breakfast as usual—pizza and milk, with Camille insisting he finish the milk.
Today, Camille had prepared an extra piece of pizza, packed neatly in a box for him to take with him.
"Take it, Charles. Who knows when you'll be back again?" Camille said, watching him with a mix of pride and sadness.
"Don't worry, Mom," Charles assured her, "I'll try to come back whenever I can."
But as he opened the front door, he froze. A crowd had gathered outside—all his neighbors.
Camille seemed prepared for this. With a proud smile, she explained, "They insisted on seeing you off. You saved so many lives, Charles."
Madame Ossès was the first to approach, leading her son, who was dressed in uniform with bandages covering his eyes as he cautiously took each step.
"Thank you, Charles," Madame Ossès said, taking his hand with a tremble in her voice. "They found Gabriel on the battlefield, safe because you held off the Germans."
The blinded Gabriel straightened, saluting Charles. "43rd Division, 172nd Infantry Regiment, General!"
Charles returned the salute and patted him on the shoulder.
Then came Uncle Anatole, shaking Charles's hand. "My son Bertrand was captured and injured by the Germans. We thought he'd never come back. But it was your unit that saved him, Charles, on the Claude Line!"
Charles remembered now. During their breach of the German's second line of defense, the 105th Infantry had rescued a group of POWs. At the time, however, everyone's focus was on the captured enemy generals and seized supplies, with little attention given to the rescued prisoners.
"No thanks necessary, Uncle Anatole," Charles replied automatically. "It was my duty."
Then came Manon, César, and Christian—each neighbor had their own reason to be grateful to him.
Charles greeted them all by name, one by one.
In this moment, he felt the contrast of two Frances more clearly than ever: one France bound by genuine bonds of care, and the other ruled by the hard realities of capital and politics. Both worlds existed side-by-side, their boundaries invisible but undeniable.
At the Paris Defense Headquarters, Gallieni signed a document, asking without looking up, "I hear Saint-Étienne has produced a light machine gun that you designed?"
"Yes," Charles replied, "It's called the Saint-Étienne Model 2."
"How does it compare to the Chauchat?" Gallieni asked, glancing up.
"I'm not entirely sure, sir," Charles said. "Only the battlefield can really test it."
Gallieni paused, looking Charles over with a knowing smile.
He understood Charles's game but wasn't going to call him out on it directly.
"Next time," Gallieni said pointedly, "let us know a little sooner. At least give the military a heads-up."
This was the second time Charles had let the military sink funds into the Chauchat, knowing it would perform poorly.
"Yes, sir," Charles replied, though the amused glint in his eye suggested he wasn't likely to change his ways.
Gallieni shook his head, pulling a file from a drawer and tossing it on the desk. "We've received intelligence that the Germans may have developed a new tank. The Intelligence Bureau managed to capture a few photos."
Eagerly, Charles flipped open the file, hoping to get a look at Germany's new tank—something even the "White Lady" network hadn't managed to do.
Unfortunately, he was disappointed. The photos showed a tank on a flatbed, shrouded under canvas, with no useful details visible.
Still, comparing the tank's size to the railcar it was on, Charles could glean a few clues. "It's a light tank, roughly the same size as the Char A1. Most likely a German attempt to replicate its design."
"That's what I thought," Gallieni nodded. "Now, the question is, how do we counter it? Do we send in the Char A1, or something else?"
After a pause, Gallieni added, "Foch is considering an anti-tank rifle approach. He thinks it's effective against light tanks. What do you think?"
Charles froze, looking at Gallieni in surprise.
The mention of Foch made it clear to Charles that this was a veiled request from Joffre, who hoped Charles might provide some strategic insight to help him win this high-stakes battle.
Nobody knew more about tanks than Charles. Not only was he the inventor of the tank, but he'd also successfully led them in battle time and again. Now, with Germany fielding a new model, Joffre seemed to need a bit of Charles's expertise for the upcoming "no-loss" offensive.
"Something wrong?" Gallieni asked, noticing Charles's reaction.
Charles realized that Gallieni likely didn't know the whole plan, and that Joffre had likely couched this as an "academic discussion," something to prepare for potential future scenarios.
"Not at all, sir," Charles replied calmly. "I just don't believe developing anti-tank rifles is the way forward. Right now, they might have some effect, but as technology advances, tank armor will get thicker, rendering them obsolete."
Anti-tank rifles had a hard limit: they could penetrate up to 25mm of steel, but beyond that, they became too unwieldy for soldiers to handle.
"37mm cannons would be a better alternative," Charles suggested. "Their penetration power is far superior to any rifle, and they have much greater growth potential."
This, Charles realized, left Joffre in a bind:
If you want to win, buy my cannons!
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