Paris 6th Army Group Headquarters, Gallieni was as restless as an ant on a hot pan.
So far, the information he received was all bad news:
"The Germans appeared in Davaz and launched a heavy attack."
"A secret German unit crossed the river last night; they successfully outflanked us and captured the Marne Bridge!"
"Our defensive lines have collapsed, and Major General Gard has retreated with the headquarters!"
...
"Damn it!" Gallieni cursed, "In the heat of battle, you bastards run faster than anyone! Saying 'retreat' is just an excuse to abandon the troops and flee!"
Gallieni had an urge to execute Major General Gard to stabilize the front line.
However, Gallieni was just the military commander of Paris, he could only command the 6th Army Group and the police forces stationed in Paris, while the 5th Army was under Xia Fei's command.
Moreover, Gallieni knew that Xia Fei wouldn't follow through; high-ranking generals often had intricate connections with capitalists, some were even part of the two hundred prominent families—they were responsible for luxury and retreat.
"The 5th Army cannot fail!" Gallieni said while pacing back and forth, his tone anxious, "There's only them around Davaz. If they fail, the main forces of Paris and France will be divided by the German Army. Paris will be surrounded!"
This is likely the plan of the German First Army Group; they believed they could easily break through the 5th Army's defense, inflicting damage and surrounding Paris simultaneously.
Gallieni suddenly stood still in front of the map, his tone turned solemn:
"What is Xia Fei doing?"
"We're losing our chance. We must immediately launch a pincer attack to stabilize the 5th Army's front!"
"Otherwise, everything will be lost, everything!"
Gallieni punched the position of Davaz on the map, as if hoping to personally defeat the Germans there.
In his heart, he prayed: "Give the command, Xia Fei! For God's sake, we cannot lose this battle!"
At this moment, a staff officer suddenly looked astonished as he answered the phone; after a moment of shock, he turned into a frenzy and shouted across the room towards Gallieni:
"We won, General! We won!"
Gallieni looked bewildered; he turned his head towards the staff officer:
"What did you say? What victory?"
Everyone in the headquarters stopped what they were doing and looked at the staff officer, all puzzled.
All defense lines were retreating, how could there be a victory?
The army commander had fled with the headquarters, so who could win?
Some farmers with hoes and sticks?
The staff officer, excited to the point of mumbling, said: "A Major named Brownie... No, it was Shire, he's the key. He supposedly invented a weapon..."
Gallieni, straightening his chest, rebuked the staff officer: "Speak clearly, Major! Or I'll kick you out of here!"
The headquarters didn't need this kind of useless person who couldn't even speak clearly.
"Yes, General!" The staff officer swallowed hard and tried to stay calm, but his chest still heaved violently.
After a few seconds to organize his thoughts, he reported:
"It was a person named Shire; he invented a kind of equipment using a tractor. Major Brownie and his three hundred men relied on this equipment to launch a counterattack at a critical moment and won!"
The headquarters fell silent instantly, the sound of typewriters ceased, and typists with glasses lifted their heads and stared at the staff officer in shock, as if saying, how could such a thing happen? Was this not writing a novel?
Gallieni's mustache quivered slightly out of excitement, but he still couldn't believe it was true; he asked doubtfully: "Was the intelligence confirmed?"
"Confirmed!" The staff officer raised the phone in his hand and nodded firmly: "The Germans have been driven to the north bank of the Marne River, losing at least five thousand men!"
The headquarters erupted in cheers, even some signalmen excitedly threw documents into the air; paper flew everywhere in the air and on the ground.
Gallieni asked again: "What kind of equipment is it? Were three hundred people able to defeat thousands of Germans?"
"I don't know, General!" The staff officer replied: "They couldn't explain over the phone, but it seems like some 'metal can.' They call it a 'Tank'!"
"Tank?" Gallieni was bewildered. It was a completely unfamiliar term; he couldn't imagine what it was.
Gallieni decided to put it aside for now, his tone carried a trace of relief: "The person who invented this equipment, you said he's named..."
"He's named Shire, General!"
"Hmm!" Gallieni nodded: "Which army is he from? We should give him the most generous reward..."
"No, General!" The staff officer replied: "He is a 17-year-old youth, not belonging to any army!"
Gallieni froze—a 17-year-old youth invented the Tank and then saved France...
How could this be so unreal?
"Oh, right!" The staff officer added: "He is the youngest grandson of the merchant Francis who funded us!"
Gallieni was stunned: Funding the 5th Army to bring them to Davaz, spreading rumors to lure the German Army into Davaz, and now inventing the "Tank" to defeat the Germans.
Were these mere coincidences?
If it wasn't a coincidence...
Gallieni vaguely felt that he wasn't fighting the battle, but an invisible hand was behind it all!
...
While Gallieni and others were busy, Shire finally managed to break free from the enthusiasm of the French Soldiers.
When he got home, he thought something had happened; it was surrounded by people, both inside and outside.
When they saw Shire, they exclaimed:
"It's Young Master Shire!"
"Young Master Shire is back!"
...
They voluntarily made a path that led directly to the small courtyard in front of the door.
Dejoka and Camille were busy greeting everyone; the entrance was already filled with things: flour, eggs, cheese, fruits...
"Shire!" His mother Camille waved at Shire from the crowd, her face full of excitement and pride: "The neighbors brought gifts for you; they are so wonderful!"
Shire took off his duckbill cap and walked while modestly nodding in acknowledgment:
"Thank you, thank you all!"
His graceful and polite demeanor immediately earned him a wave of praises:
"Such a well-behaved child!"
"We should be thanking you, Young Master Shire! You saved all of us!"
"We are proud of you, you are our hero!"
...
A chubby boy was pushed in front of Shire by his parents.
Shire recognized him; his name was Teddy, a classmate, who always bullied him before. If it wasn't for Matthew blocking, Shire may not have survived until now.
"Apologize to Young Master Shire!" His father grabbed Teddy's collar, like escorting a criminal.
Teddy seemed scared, but not because of his father.
He raised his head in terror, his eyes drifting as he dared not look directly at Shire, his jaw trembling uncontrollably:
"Sha... Shire, you wouldn't...use that 'metal can' against me, would you?"
Shire laughed:
"Of course not, Teddy! It's for dealing with enemies!"
Next, he faced the surrounding neighbors, raised his head:
"Our guns will always target enemies, not friends!"
The neighbors cheered:
"Well said, Young Master Shire!"
"Way to go, Young Master Shire!"
...
Teddy relaxed; he gratefully looked at Shire:
"We...are friends?"
Shire nodded affirmatively:
"Of course!"
"Thank you, Shire!" Teddy's eyes were red, his voice choked with emotion: "Thank you so much!"
Then his eyes lit up, and he whispered, "I can introduce Ada to you!"
Ada was Teddy's sister, three years older than Teddy, with a full figure, youthful and beautiful, admired and discussed by many peers, including Shire and other teenage boys.
But unfortunately, Teddy's words were overheard by Ada.
"Teddy!" Ada screamed as she parted the crowd and stepped forward, with a murderous look, and glanced at Shire, her eyes filled with a hint of panic and bashfulness.
Teddy realized it was bad news; he broke free from his father's control and ran away, shouting from afar:
"See you later, Shire, I mean what I said!"
Shire half-jokingly responded:
"Deal!"
The neighbors laughed, Ada blushed, pretending to chase Teddy and ran off.