Chapter 468: For the Sake of the Soldiers' Interests
Charles was seeking to gain Foch's favor.
He knew that Foch would not willingly abandon the operational plan he had meticulously laid out: a coordinated attack by all nations, followed by Romania's declaration of war, and then a swift defeat of the Central Powers to end the war. This plan would ensure Foch's name went down in history, with an outcome even more glorious and shining than Charles' own.
If this plan were to be executed, the artillery stationed in the fortresses at Verdun would be useless. They had to be removed and redeployed to bolster the attacking forces.
Thus, from the moment Foch set his eyes on Verdun, he was already considering how to extract the artillery from the fortresses. All he needed was a reason.
Kristin had provided him with the perfect excuse: "Fortresses are outdated. Keeping artillery there would only make them targets for 'Big Bertha.' The moment they are used, they will be destroyed one after the other before they can even fire a shot."
"Logical!" Foch's mood lifted as he seized upon the opportunity, quickly reallocating the artillery to the field armies.
The morning in the hospital was quiet and solemn. The bells of Notre Dame tolled steadily and powerfully, heralding the start of a new day.
Gallieni, reclining on his bed, stared at the IV bottle hanging beside him. He watched as the clear fluid slowly entered his wrist through the rubber tube. He felt a sense of disbelief, as though he couldn't quite trust that this treatment would actually help his condition.
"Medicine has advanced to this extent," Gallieni murmured to himself.
Charles entered, holding a bouquet of flowers. He glanced at Gallieni before placing the flowers in a vase by the bed, saying, "You look much better today, General."
"It's just an old issue," Gallieni raised an eyebrow. "Rest for two days, and I'll be fine. I know how this works."
Then Gallieni asked, "When are you heading back? If you're not in Belgium, everyone, including Albert I, will be worried, Brigadier."
This was not just about the army's morale, but also the public's, as though Charles could return at any moment, it would still make everyone uneasy.
"This afternoon," Charles replied, pulling up a chair next to Gallieni's bed.
"Mm." Gallieni nodded, then his expression turned serious. "There's something I need to say. I don't want you to make any mistakes because of me."
"What?" Charles feigned ignorance.
"Don't try to fool me, Brigadier." Gallieni fixed his gaze on Charles, lowering his voice. "I'm not worried about Foch; I'm worried about the French soldiers. If you go after Foch, it could harm many innocent soldiers."
Charles understood Gallieni's concern.
For example, if Foch were to fall into a trap at Verdun, it would not only damage Foch's reputation but would also result in many French soldiers being wounded or even killed.
But Charles calmly responded, "I don't see it that way, General. I'm doing this for the soldiers' benefit."
"What?" Gallieni didn't quite understand what Charles was saying.
Charles casually picked up an apple, peeling it as he continued, "Have you ever thought about how many French soldiers would die if Foch stayed in command, or if he really went through with his so-called 'encirclement plan'?"
Gallieni fell silent.
Charles was right—it was a simple matter of numbers. Everyone knew that Foch's command would lead to more deaths, and the sooner he was removed, the better.
However…
Gallieni shook his head softly, sighing. He decided to abandon trying to persuade Charles any further.
That afternoon, Charles boarded a plane and headed back to Antwerp Airport.
Before he left, he instructed Colonel Fernand to bolster Gallieni's security. At no point should Foch be allowed to meet with Gallieni.
When Colonel Fernand heard this order, he hesitated.
"But Foch is the Commander-in-Chief, General," Fernand said. "If he wants to meet with Gallieni, I don't have the authority to stop him."
"Then make it so he can't meet with anyone," Charles replied firmly. "This is my order. You can pin all the blame on me."
"Yes, General," Fernand replied, seeming to understand. "I will make sure Foch can no longer provoke General Gallieni."
Though Charles was in the command center, his thoughts were entirely focused on Verdun.
"Foch has already ordered artillery to be removed from the fortresses, along with the artillery crews."
"He plans to incorporate the artillery into the 7th Army Group, which is located near Verdun. Although the artillery is being moved out, it can be brought back to Verdun at any time."
"The 1st Special Artillery Division has already equipped 'Charles A1' tanks, along with 'Saint-Chamond.'"
"Foch hopes the 1st Special Artillery Division will play a decisive role in his plan, just as your forces did."
These were the messages sent by Kristin.
To be precise, they were sent through the "White Lady" to avoid suspicion. If Kristin maintained too frequent contact with Charles, Foch would soon grow suspicious.
After reading the intelligence, Charles nodded to himself. Foch hadn't suspected that everything was being tailored specifically for him.
It was easy to imagine that, in the not-too-distant future, Foch would suffer another defeat, and this time, it would be a catastrophic one.
When the Germans attacked, not only would he be unprepared, but he would also have depleted his artillery and forces, effectively playing into the hands of the enemy. It was just like a year ago when he concentrated his forces to attack Alsace and Lorraine, which nearly brought Paris into jeopardy.
But Charles knew that this alone would not be enough to ruin Foch's career.
After all, it was not the first time Foch had caused France to lose on the battlefield. He had made mistakes in command before, and every time, he had found some grand excuse to cover for his failures.
"Brigadier, Brigadier?" Tijanis waved his hand in front of Charles' face.
Startled from his thoughts, Charles snapped back, "What?"
Tijanis handed over a supply list. "The Saint-Étienne Arsenal has delivered a batch of shotguns and some weapons called submachine guns. They said these are what you requested."
"Oh, yes," Charles said, taking the list. "Two hundred shotguns and one hundred submachine guns."
"What do we need these for?" Tijanis asked.
Especially the shotguns; he couldn't fathom why the army would need civilian weapons used for hunting.
"Training," Charles explained, handing the list back to Tijanis. "Distribute these weapons to the infantry squads. For now, assign one shotgunner to each squad, with the squad leader using a submachine gun."
"But these guns…"
"Trench warfare, General," Charles explained. "We talked about this before. The infantry will need to clear the way."
Tijanis' face lit up with understanding. Soon, his expression shifted from confusion to excitement.
My God, these could be the perfect tools for close-range mass killing, helping the troops quickly and effectively capture enemy trenches.
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