Chapter 518: Another Quagmire
British Expeditionary Force Headquarters, Dunkirk.
Lord Kitchener, the British Secretary of State for War, maintained an office here—a logical arrangement, given the upcoming major offensive operations planned by the British army.
Kitchener had developed a habit of writing his diary every evening after dinner. He found this practice valuable, thinking it might prove useful someday after his retirement. The accumulated entries could become an effortless basis for a memoir—an ultimate reflection on his life's accomplishments.
Tonight, however, he found himself inexplicably restless. After scribbling only a few lines, Kitchener suddenly lost interest. Closing his diary and placing his pen aside, he picked up a cup of coffee and walked toward the window, gazing thoughtfully northward into the darkness.
What truly mattered was not the act of writing itself but the achievements recorded within the small diary—such as perhaps becoming Prime Minister of Britain one day.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in," Kitchener called, turning away from the window.
General Haig entered promptly. Earlier at Chantilly, Haig had seemed proud and authoritative. Yet here, before Kitchener, he stood respectfully, almost like a diligent pupil.
"Everything proceeded smoothly, my Lord," Haig reported dutifully. "The French agreed fully with our offensive strategy. As expected, Minister Gallieni proved the only obstacle—but ultimately, he proved powerless."
Kitchener gave a noncommittal grunt, his expression unreadable.
Haig frowned slightly, sensing unease. "You seem dissatisfied with the outcome, sir?"
With an expressionless face, Kitchener replied, "Minister Gallieni wasn't the real challenge, General. Our most significant difficulties lie ahead—far too soon to discuss satisfaction."
Momentarily puzzled, Haig quickly realized whom Kitchener had in mind. "You're referring to General Charles?"
Kitchener nodded slightly. "You've heard of Saint-Étienne's cooperation with FN Company?"
"I've heard a little," Haig admitted indifferently. He rarely concerned himself with such matters, convinced wars were won by men rather than equipment.
"I know what you're thinking," Kitchener said with visible impatience. Haig's stubborn traditionalism, his refusal even to acknowledge the value of new weaponry, frustrated Kitchener deeply.
"Even if you personally mistrust new technologies, you cannot deny the facts of Charles's victories," Kitchener lectured sternly. "He developed tanks in Paris, utilized aircraft and Congreve rockets effectively at Antwerp, and employed new landmines at Verdun. Are these all merely lucky coincidences?"
"I don't attribute it purely to luck," Haig responded calmly. "But much of his success came from catching enemies unprepared. Once the Germans understand these tactics, they'll devise countermeasures, rendering his innovations ineffective—such as digging anti-tank trenches."
Kitchener refused to argue further; it seemed pointless. Certainly, war involved luck, but repeated victories could never be attributed solely to chance.
Ignoring Haig's obstinacy, Kitchener continued thoughtfully, "Intelligence reports suggest Charles is currently training troops intensively and rapidly producing new equipment. I believe he's preparing specifically for the coming battle—which is troubling news for us."
Haig understood the implication. If Charles secured another decisive victory with minimal forces, even a large British success would pale in comparison.
Yet Haig's face showed disdain. "Forgive my bluntness, sir, but I think your concerns are unfounded. We've spent months preparing this offensive. Preliminary estimates suggest we can mobilize over 80 divisions—nearly one million men. Charles's comparatively tiny force will barely register."
(Note: Historically, the Battle of the Somme involved approximately 86 divisions—54 British and 32 French—totaling over a million soldiers.)
Kitchener rolled his eyes subtly. The true issue was not how many divisions they could mobilize, but how much they could actually accomplish. Could Haig's massive force replicate Charles's swift capture of Antwerp, regaining a third of Belgium overnight while capturing tens of thousands of prisoners?
However, he refrained from openly confronting Haig with such criticism. Haig firmly believed in overwhelming numerical superiority. To openly criticize that belief would serve no useful purpose.
Instead, Kitchener tactfully changed his approach. "Nonetheless, to be cautious, perhaps we should present Charles with a different challenge—something unexpected. What do you think?"
Haig's eyes lit up approvingly. He wholeheartedly agreed.
…
Meanwhile, Charles was occupied deflecting Tijani's relentless pestering.
"I think rocket launchers suit mechanized divisions better," Tijani argued insistently, his chatter relentless as they returned from the training grounds. "The armored division already has tanks, capable of quickly closing distance and directly engaging enemies—they have no real need for eight-kilometer-range rockets."
Charles shot back skeptically, "Are you suggesting armored divisions don't need 75mm artillery or Saint-Chamond tanks either?"
"No, of course not," Tijani quickly countered without embarrassment, "I'm merely saying artillery offers superior accuracy, complementing tanks perfectly. Rocket launchers lack precision, potentially causing friendly fire accidents."
The argument held some validity, Charles admitted inwardly. However, he promptly challenged Tijani again: "And mechanized divisions don't coordinate with armored units? By your logic, you don't need rockets either, correct?"
Tijani opened his mouth but found no immediate reply.
Charles smirked mischievously, adding slyly, "Besides, wasn't someone recently very insistent about not needing rocket launchers? Surely you haven't forgotten already?"
Feigning ignorance, Tijani shrugged exaggeratedly. "Did I really say that? You must've misremembered."
Charles shook his head incredulously at Tijani's audacity—an unabashed general indeed!
Just then, a British lieutenant entered, saluting respectfully. Removing a sealed envelope from his satchel, he announced, "Top-secret documents, General. Please confirm your security before opening."
Charles nodded absentmindedly, opening the file immediately. His headquarters was secure beyond doubt—every individual present was strictly vetted, movements restricted, contacts tightly monitored.
After the British officer saluted again and departed, Charles glanced at the documents, suddenly uttering a surprised "Huh," brows furrowing deeply.
Curiosity piqued, Tijani leaned in to inspect the papers—battle orders.
Flipping through quickly, Tijani stared at Charles, shocked. "They're ordering us to attack Namur Fortress?"
Charles nodded grimly. He hadn't anticipated this. Previously, he'd assumed they would participate in the imminent Battle of the Somme—an enormous campaign involving countless divisions. Clearly, the British had other plans, seeking instead to entangle Charles's force in another messy quagmire.
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