Chapter 324: The Victory Parade
Charles had been stationed at "A" Corner for another two days.
The humid seaside weather and the muddy trenches made everyone feel sticky and uncomfortable. Some tried to bathe in the sea to feel better, but they quickly realized that once the seawater dried, it left them feeling even worse than before.
Unfortunately, during these two days, the 105th Infantry was assigned the grim task of handling the bodies behind the front lines.
The job seemed simple enough—dig a large pit and throw every body they could find into it.
However, the work was far from easy. There were far too many decomposed bodies and dismembered limbs, making the task unbearable for the soldiers.
While it was less grueling than fighting the enemy on the front lines, the presence of remaining enemies hiding in the jungle and taking potshots made it no less dangerous.
On this day, Charles was discussing the area they would need to clear the next day with Tigani, looking over a map.
They needed to send out sniper teams to keep watch on suspicious jungles and caves, then plan a few burial points to minimize the workload.
At that moment, a signalman came rushing in, exclaiming with excitement as he handed a telegram to Tigani, reporting breathlessly, “General, they’re recalling us! General Winter says that we’ll be receiving our rest orders tonight and will take a transport ship back to anchor early tomorrow morning!”
Rest orders were a metal tag worn around the neck. It was a measure used by the French military during this period to prevent deserters from blending in with the retreating troops.
Tigani froze for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally, we can leave this hellhole!”
A cheer erupted in the command center, and the soldiers outside also received the news. Immediately, smiles appeared on every face, with some even dancing in celebration with their comrades.
However, Shen Billy’s eyes flashed with concern. He paced back and forth in the trench, then, gathering his courage, approached the commander and stood before Charles.
“Colonel,” Shen Billy said, his expression somewhat disheartened. “If the 105th Infantry is returning to anchor, should I go back to my original unit?”
Charles responded with a half-smile, “If you want to return, I have no objection!”
Shen Billy heard hope in Charles’s tone and stared at him with wide, eager eyes. “So, you mean... I could stay with the 105th Infantry?”
Charles gave a slight nod. “I’ve already reported your case to General Winter, and he has no objections. If you wish, he’ll have the staff handle your transfer paperwork.”
“I do!” Shen Billy answered eagerly. “I definitely want to stay!”
Charles set his pencil down and looked up at Shen Billy. “Are you sure? This might not be an ordinary transfer. You’ll likely end up serving on the French battlefield with the 105th Infantry, and you may even become a Frenchman!”
This meant that Shen Billy would have to sever ties with everything Australian, including his family.
Shen Billy paused for a moment, then nodded firmly. “Yes, I understand.”
“Won’t regret it?” Charles asked again.
“No regrets!” Shen Billy responded without hesitation.
A wise choice, Charles thought. His future would no longer be one of poverty. He would become Charles’s personal bodyguard, both on the battlefield and in life.
...
The 105th Infantry wasn’t recalled to anchor; instead, they were directly sent back to France, far from the battlefield.
As the rumors had suggested, the Germans might try to eliminate Charles at all costs, so the movement of the 105th Infantry was kept highly secret.
Apart from General Winter, no one in France, including Gallieni, knew about it.
This was to avoid the French Minister of the Navy.
Charles couldn’t afford to risk his life; after all, the transport ships were slow and poorly equipped to resist sinking. If a German submarine targeted them, it would be a near-certain death sentence.
It wasn’t until the 105th Infantry arrived at Toulon Port that Charles made a call to Gallieni.
Gallieni’s voice was calm:
“Back already?”
“No problems. I’ll arrange a train for you.”
“But they want you to march into Paris!”
Charles, on the other end of the line, was somewhat surprised. “March into Paris?”
“Yes,” Gallieni replied. “The parliament has been discussing it. The front is stalemated, and there’s a growing war-weariness among both the military and the civilians. The parliament believes that your victory could boost morale, especially yours.”
Charles hesitated for a moment before replying, “No problem, but please notify the parliament ten minutes before we arrive!”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, followed by Gallieni’s knowing “Hmm.”
After hanging up, Gallieni stood there for a while, lost in thought.
Damn parliament. He had almost been fooled by those people.
If they arranged the timing, location, and even the parade route, the best way for the Germans to eliminate Charles would be to send a hitman to hide in a building along the route, waiting to take him down with a rifle.
There were many in the parliament who wanted to see Charles dead. They didn’t need to collaborate with the Germans; they simply needed to leak the parade’s time and route.
Just then, the phone rang again, and it was Charles calling once more.
“General,” Charles said, “You can release the news that we’ll only be arriving three days from now.”
Gallieni silently praised Charles. This would make the Germans think they still had time, and then, suddenly, Charles’s troops would appear and quickly complete this “inspiring” ceremony.
...
The 105th Infantry arrived in Paris early the next morning.
During World War I, trains could only travel at about 50 kilometers per hour, and along the way, they had to wait for trains carrying supplies to the front. The journey from Toulon to Paris, over 800 kilometers, took a full 26 hours.
On the train, Charles found himself missing Eric’s airplane. Though it could only travel at over 100 kilometers per hour, it went in a straight line, with no need to stop, and it might only take six or seven hours to cover the distance.
The troops disembarked at Lyon Station, looking disheveled and grimy, their guns slung over their shoulders as they marched down the street without any attempt to clean up.
At first, the Parisians, just waking from their sleep, didn’t know what was happening. They only heard chants and the sound of whistles from the street below.
Curious, they opened their windows and looked outside. There, they saw a column of troops passing by. They looked like they had just come from the front lines—disheveled, with dirty uniforms, most of them bearded and appearing like a defeated unit that had been withdrawn.
Out of politeness, they waved to the soldiers, welcoming them.
Then, suddenly, someone cried out,
“My God, that’s the 105th Infantry!”
“Is that Charles’s unit? The one that won at Gallipoli?”
“Yes, do you see? Charles is there, on the cart!”
...
The crowd immediately erupted in cheers, and the cries of sympathy turned into exclamations of surprise.
The news spread quickly, reaching every street and alley. People rushed to welcome Charles’s troops, with many even wearing just their pajamas.