Chapter 374: I Want an Offensive
By afternoon, Cambrai's train station was chaotic and bustling with activity. The sounds of artillery boomed in the distance, echoing in waves. Wounded soldiers and retreating units crowded along the tracks, anxiously awaiting their turn.
One by one, trains pulled in amidst clouds of steam. Some carried fully-armed soldiers, others loaded with supplies and ammunition, while two trains hauled equipment shrouded in tarps. Anyone who knew what to look for could recognize the silhouettes of Saint-Chamond tanks beneath the coverings.
Before the trains even came to a halt, Major General Christian jumped down, surveying the area. Turning to the guard following closely behind, he ordered, "Find soldiers who have seen the German tanks and bring them to me, now."
"Yes, General." The guards saluted and dispersed under a junior officer's direction to locate eyewitnesses.
Christian lit a cigarette, his brow furrowed in concern. His mission was to halt the German tank advance around Cambrai, yet he had no information on these new German tanks—or their new aircraft.
He cast a glance skyward, but the sky was empty.
Reportedly, both sides' air forces were approaching the battle cautiously. Each side knew the other possessed new aircraft and was wary of revealing them too soon. Only under Charles's command, Christian mused, could such a situation arise—a high-stakes duel where patience and psychology played a role, where both waited to see who would break first.
But what was he supposed to do on the ground?
Christian turned to look at the Saint-Chamond and Saint-Chamond M21 tanks being unloaded from the train. Rely on these?
He shook his head slightly. He had little faith in them.
The heavy Saint-Chamond had proven unsuited to the battlefield, and the Saint-Chamond M21 was a lightly-armored, untested model. Most importantly, they lacked a rotating turret.
Christian had seen the Charles A1 and believed that all tanks should follow its design.
Now, all he could hope for was that the German tanks, too, lacked rotating turrets.
However, Christian's hopes were quickly dashed.
Soon, a group of wounded soldiers, some with bandages and fresh bloodstains, gathered in front of him. The guards confirmed, "General, they've all seen the enemy tanks."
Christian nodded curtly and zeroed in on a burly soldier with a sling on his left arm. His questioning was straightforward: "What did it look like? Describe it."
"Look like?" The soldier looked slightly dazed. "Tracks, a gun, and machine guns…"
Lacking any specific knowledge of tank details, he could only offer a general description.
"Did it have a turret?" Christian interrupted.
"Of course," the soldier replied with conviction, nodding. "Not just one turret—three of them."
"Three?" Christian's eyes widened in shock.
The other wounded soldiers nodded, chiming in:
"Yes, three turrets in total."
"One for the main gun and two smaller machine gun turrets."
"The machine gun turrets were in the front and back, slightly lower than the main one."
Christian's face grew increasingly grave as his last glimmer of hope faded.
After a moment's pause, he asked weakly, "Its speed, armor thickness… do you know anything else?"
The injured soldiers shook their heads blankly.
"Sorry, General, we didn't manage to capture any tanks, so we're not sure."
"They seemed to move at around 10 kilometers per hour—I saw them charge."
"Maybe you could capture some German soldiers; they'd know more."
Christian dismissed them with a weary wave, but before they had gone far, a thought struck him. He hurried after them, asking, "You said earlier they attacked from behind your trenches?"
"Yes, sir," they confirmed.
"They flanked along the trench line, then opened fire with their machine guns."
Christian pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket, handing them to the soldiers. "Can you sketch out their attack path?"
The wounded soldiers exchanged glances but hesitated to take the notebook.
"It's quite simple, General. No need to draw it."
"Yes, they moved exactly along the trench lines, mirroring their shape."
"They aimed to kill everyone sheltering in the trenches, so they moved along the edges."
After a moment of thought, Christian nodded and let them go. As he mulled over their words, a glimmer of hope reignited in his eyes. He turned to the radio operator and commanded, "Set up the transmitter, immediately!"
Connecting to headquarters, Christian relayed his idea to Joffre: "General, I have a plan. I've learned the enemy tanks move along the sides of our trenches to attack. This means they expose their side armor to us. If we position our tanks behind our lines, they'll be like targets on a shooting range!"
By positioning their tanks defensively, they could make up for the Saint-Chamond tanks' lack of rotating turrets. Facing targets head-on, the lack of turret mobility wouldn't matter as much.
But the reply from Joffre came back curtly:
"No, Christian. I want an offensive."
"The Germans don't know we have new tanks. They'll be taken completely off guard, and we'll secure a swift victory."
"If we just sit and shoot from cover, we'll only repel them, and they'll quickly understand what's happening."
Joffre, a staunch believer in the doctrine of offensive warfare, wanted an "impressive victory" to boost morale and was unwilling to settle for a defensive approach.
"But our tanks have serious limitations, General," Christian protested. "We'd be better off defending…"
This time, Joffre didn't bother with explanations. His response was a single, sharp order: "Follow your orders!"
Holding the telegram in silence, Christian sighed deeply and abandoned his defensive plan.
He knew he couldn't disobey a direct command without facing a court-martial.
Now, he would have to lead his men forward, no matter the cost or the inevitable heavy casualties.
Otherwise, he and his men might find themselves subject to a "decimation order" — the ultimate punishment for cowardice in battle.
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