Chapter 465: The End for Foch
In the meeting room of the French General Staff at La Garde, a heated argument was unfolding.
"We can't let Romania join the Allies, Generalissimo," Gallieni said, staring at Foch. "I believe keeping Romania neutral would be more beneficial for us."
"Really?" Foch responded skeptically. "How would that be beneficial? Should we continue selling oil to the Germans? Or food, coal, even arms and ammunition?"
"Indeed," Gallieni said, "but it's still much better than having all of Romania fall under German control."
"Have you considered what it would mean for Germany to control all of Romania?" Foch retorted. "Think about the oil, the food, and the munitions factories in Austria-Hungary that Germany could directly exploit—I mean, all of them!"
Foch laughed, his lips curling in disdain as he sarcastically responded, "So, have you thought about what would happen if our plan succeeds?"
"The war would end, General," Gallieni said.
"That's a siege of over three million soldiers from a dozen countries—you're praying for the Germans rather than imagining they'll occupy Romania!" Foch sneered.
(Foch was counting the forces from the UK, France, Russia, Italy, Romania, and the colonial armies.)
Gallieni stood his ground, pointing at the map. "Look here, Generalissimo. Your so-called siege is already in progress, but aside from Charles, there's no breakthrough anywhere else. Some areas are even collapsing, and yet you think Romania's joining will make a difference?"
Gallieni had been awakened to this realization by Charles.
Foch's encirclement plan appeared impressive on the surface—over three million men from a dozen nations combining their forces, which would seem to be an unstoppable tide.
However, most of these forces were bogged down in trenches, struggling with the enemy. Not just the British and French, but even over a million Italian troops were making no progress, while the Russian forces were in retreat.
Would the addition of 500,000 Romanian soldiers really turn the tide? Could they crush the Germans with a coordinated counterattack?
Wasn't that a bit too idealistic?
But Foch would not accept this argument.
"Your idea is laughable," Foch said, his finger tapping the desk with disdain. "We discussed this last time, and you didn't object. A simultaneous counterattack is quite different from fighting alone. The former exerts far more pressure on the Germans, and that's without even factoring in Romania's joining."
Suddenly, Foch seemed to realize something. He leaned back in his chair with a smirk.
"I understand now. You don't want me to succeed," he said.
"What?" Gallieni was confused.
"I'm not mistaken, am I?" Foch continued, his smile sarcastic. "You want Charles to win, which is why you're trying to dissuade me."
Gallieni stood frozen, caught off guard by Foch's accusation.
"Everything falls into place now," Foch continued. "I was wondering why anyone would oppose Romania joining us, and now the truth is clear."
Gallieni's anger flared. His voice grew hoarse. "No, Generalissimo. You are insulting my character."
"No, General," Foch said, shaking his head calmly. "This has nothing to do with character. It's about interests. I understand."
Before Gallieni could protest, Foch raised his voice in a righteous tone.
"However, General Gallieni, let's not forget that you're a Marshal of France, and people privately call you 'the Savior of Paris!'"
"Before you consider personal or small group interests, should you not first consider the interests of France?"
"Moreover, I believe you should consider the interests of the Allies as a whole. That's what a soldier should do!"
"This is our duty and a responsibility to the people of France—to all those who have sacrificed their lives!"
Gallieni trembled with rage. "No, Generalissimo! This is slander—baseless defamation. I refuse to accept it..."
"Then, let me ask you a question, General," Foch said, spreading his hands. "How can we refuse the addition of a pivotal country?"
Foch then added, "If you wish, I can bring it up in the meeting. Or we can publish it after the war and let the people of France decide whether they support you or me!"
Gallieni froze.
At first glance, the idea of Romania joining the Allies seemed correct, even Gallieni had once thought so.
It was better to have Romania than not, that was common sense.
Therefore, whether discussed in the meeting or decided by public vote, Foch was in the right, and Gallieni in the wrong.
Gallieni realized that he couldn't convince Foch, because Foch had already concluded that Gallieni was sabotaging the plan for personal reasons to favor Charles.
Gallieni clenched his teeth, knowing there was no use in further argument. He simply said, "Goodbye, Generalissimo."
As Gallieni left the meeting room, he heard Foch's mocking laughter behind him.
Gallieni's face was pale as he returned to his car bound for Paris.
He didn't say a word on the way back, just staring blankly ahead, his eyes empty and unfocused.
At that moment, he felt as though there was an insurmountable obstacle in his heart.
Why had this happened?
Clearly, Foch had created this unrealistic encirclement plan for personal gain, and Gallieni had only pointed out its flaws, yet he was accused of undermining the plan for his own interests.
What was even worse, he couldn't explain himself!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. It felt as if a heavy stone was pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, a sharp pain hit his stomach, and everything went black. Gallieni collapsed into the back seat of the car...
Paris, 13th Arrondissement, Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital.
Gallieni slowly opened his eyes, seeing Charles standing by his bed, expressionless, peeling an apple with a fruit knife.
"Hey, Brigadier General," Gallieni muttered, glancing around in confusion. "Where am I? Is this Antwerp?"
"Don't move, General," Charles quickly stopped Gallieni from getting up. "This is Paris. You're in the hospital."
Gallieni paused, recalling the events, then gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. "I couldn't convince Foch."
"Yeah." Charles cut the apple into pieces and put one on a plate, offering it to Gallieni. "You don't need to worry about that. Leave it to me."
"Leave it to you?" Gallieni looked at Charles in confusion.
This wasn't something he could be involved in. What could he possibly do?
But when Gallieni saw the coldness in Charles's eyes, he realized the truth.
The young man had set aside his reservations—he was going to deal with Foch.
Foch's days were numbered. No one could stand against Charles, not even Foch!
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