Chapter 327: Charles' Theory
The French National Assembly in Paris was its usual chaotic self, the bickering deputies resembled old women haggling in a marketplace, behaving with no decorum.
However, when Charles, dressed in military uniform, appeared at the door, the entire room instantly fell silent. All eyes turned to him as he walked steadily up the aisle towards the podium.
This was an unprecedented scene; even when Gallieni was questioned, the room never went completely quiet.
The expressions of the deputies were mixed—some with admiration, some with gratitude, but more with jealousy and anger.
Grévy’s expression was complex. At times, he couldn’t help but wonder—did he really want Charles to never return from the battlefield? Or, if that day did come, would he actually feel pleased? He feared not!
Charles reached the podium and, standing tall with dignity, said, "Good day, gentlemen!"
Then, he let out a sigh of relief. "Finally, I don’t have to speak amidst the sound of gunfire. It feels good."
The deputies laughed, and Steed led the applause, shouting, "Well done, Charles! You are the pride of France!"
Other deputies joined in the chant:
"You defeated the Germans, the Ottomans, and the British!"
"You saved countless lives, and this war!"
...
This was all to build support for Charles.
But what they said was the truth, and even the deputies who opposed Charles could not find a rebuttal, only sitting quietly, waiting for the applause and cheers to subside.
Charles seized the initiative, not waiting for questions, and spoke first:
"I will state my purpose."
"I am not here to speak for myself. Changing the style or color of military uniforms does not benefit me in the slightest. My factories don’t even have textile mills, dyeing factories, or any garment factories for military uniforms."
"I am here for one purpose only: to ensure that our brave soldiers do not risk their lives because of unnecessary factors."
"This would complicate battles, make victory harder, and make survival more difficult."
...
Wells, sitting in the center of the room, silently praised Charles' words.
A brilliant rhetoric—Charles had immediately framed his position as one "for the people." If anyone opposed him, they would be seen as going against the people and disregarding the lives of soldiers on the front lines. That "crime" was no small matter—it could quickly turn public support against any deputy, even to the point of being spat upon by the people.
But the deputies were not so easily manipulated.
Armand stood up and interrupted Charles.
"Colonel," Armand asked, "Are you opposed to the bright colors of the military uniforms?"
"Yes," Charles replied calmly.
"Then," Armand continued, "Don’t the British also have brightly colored uniforms?"
"No," Charles answered.
Parliamentary inquiries were typically straightforward, and underhanded deputies rarely allowed the person being questioned time or space to explain.
"Then why did the French army, dressed in bright uniforms, win victory?" Armand asked. "While the British were utterly defeated?"
The room erupted in commotion:
"Yes, victory is not related to the brightness of uniforms."
"Or perhaps, bright uniforms lead to victory."
"This is a French tradition. Changing the uniform is a sign of surrender to the enemy!"
...
Charles waited for the shouting to subside before coldly replying, "Gentlemen, if you truly believe that, then may I ask you to wear brightly colored uniforms and take a stroll across the battlefield?"
The opposing deputies instantly found themselves weak. They realized that no matter how they answered, they were trapped.
To agree meant they had to march to the battlefield in those bright uniforms.
To disagree meant they were asking others to fight in brightly colored uniforms while they themselves cowered in the rear like cowards.
Steed and the other deputies began to rally behind Charles.
Just then, one deputy stood up and asked seriously, "Colonel, do you realize that these bright colors are not just for aesthetics? They can make the soldiers appear more lively, energizing them. Perhaps that is the true key to victory!"
"Is that so?" Charles asked with a smile. "Why haven’t I felt that?"
"It’s a subconscious effect, Colonel," the deputy replied. "Red represents impulse; it symbolizes blood, and the basic requirement of an attack is impulse. It makes soldiers more likely to charge towards the enemy with bayonets instead of being afraid or fleeing."
Hearing this, Charles seemed to understand.
The French red military hats and red trousers were not simply about looking "good" or "bad." They were linked to France’s "theory of attack."
War required motivating soldiers to charge at the enemy. The authorities hoped to see soldiers, under the psychological cue of red, rush at the enemy trenches with bayonets, driven by a momentary surge of emotion, and thus achieve victory.
Charles smiled, replying with reason and evidence:
"I regret to inform you, gentlemen."
"I can say with certainty that in all the battles I’ve commanded that were won, not a single one was because the soldiers were motivated by the red trousers and red military hats."
"On the contrary, from the very beginning, I’ve ordered them to hide behind the 'tanks' and preserve themselves."
...
Another deputy stood up to oppose: "Colonel, are you opposed to the 'theory of attack'?"
"Yes, I am," Charles admitted generously.
Although opposing the "theory of attack" was unconventional at this time, it was precisely what Pétain had done.
The reason was simple—real combat was the only true test. Otherwise, no matter how well one spoke, it was useless.
The room was stunned. Even Steed fell silent.
The deputies were known for following the crowd, and at this moment, the mainstream view was still the "theory of attack." They did not dare to go against the tide, even if it was Charles.
The inquiry then shifted from military uniforms to the theory of attack.
"Then, do you support Pétain’s defensive theory?" Grévy stood up and asked, a hint of smugness on his face. He seemed to think he had caught Charles in a contradiction.
"No," Charles shook his head. "I don’t support the theory of defense either."
This answer left the deputies puzzled. In warfare, it was either attack or defense. Could there be a middle ground?
But there was indeed a middle ground, and that middle ground was precisely what was needed.
Charles explained: "Sometimes we need to attack to win, and sometimes we need to defend."
Then he raised his head, his eyes filled with confidence and determination:
"The battlefield is a very complex competition, gentlemen, far more complicated than you can imagine."
"We cannot hope to win constantly with just simple theories of attack or defense."
"That’s like thinking we could win every war with only the 75mm cannon. Such thinking will ultimately lead to failure—whether it’s attack or defense!"
The room fell silent.
The deputies, without exception, thought of one thing:
Charles’ military theory might stand on its own. It was different from the traditional theory of attack, and it was not Pétain’s theory of defense.
It was the Charles Theory.
All along, Charles had been winning battles with this very theory!
In other words, the facts had already proven that the Charles Theory was correct.
What could they possibly rebut?