Fuxu hardly needed to explain to Paris.
In the Prime Minister's Office at Paris City Hall, two high-ranking officials sat opposite each other by the warm fireplace, leisurely sipping red wine while discussing.
"People are tired of war," Clemenceau said coldly. "Especially the soldiers on the front line. They are always looking to escape."
"Who wouldn't agree?" Briand nodded in agreement. "They even resort to mutiny and refuse to fight. It's a disgrace and utterly foolish. If they don't fight, the whole country, including themselves, will be lost in the end!"
"To prevent similar incidents, we need an offensive," Clemenceau said, shaking his wine glass towards Briand.
Briand was puzzled. "I think it's best for us to maintain a defensive stance; otherwise, those soldiers might rebel again."
Clemenceau shook his head. "Prime Minister, you seem to have forgotten what happened last Christmas Eve."
