Chapter 446: If Someone Disagrees, Let Them Fight Us
General Winter was at a loss for words.
Because Charles was right—intercepting fuel supplies in private, thereby complicating the war effort, clearly went against Britain’s interests.
Finally, General Winter sighed and reluctantly replied:
“Actually, this is not entirely the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’s’ idea. Brigadier General, I too hope you can return to the Dardanelles to oversee the situation.”
“Because…”
“There are lives being lost there every day—hundreds, even thousands.”
A deep sorrow flickered in General Winter’s eyes. He had often seen the casualty numbers and understood their weight.
“You should tell that to the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty,’” Charles retorted.
“What?” General Winter did not understand Charles’s meaning.
Charles responded with a question of his own: “Have you forgotten the purpose of the Dardanelles campaign?”
“Of course not,” General Winter defended himself. “It was to open up a new front and break the stalemate.”
Charles spread his hands and glanced around.
General Winter suddenly realized—the stalemate on the front line had already been broken by Charles’s armored forces, rendering the Dardanelles campaign strategically irrelevant.
“The Gallipoli campaign has devolved into trench warfare—a new stalemate,” Charles continued. “The solution is already in front of you.”
General Winter stared at Charles in confusion before finally catching on: “You’re suggesting armored units?”
“Yes,” Charles nodded. “Using armored forces to break through the trenches. But have you considered the challenges of deploying armored units in Gallipoli?”
General Winter gently shook his head. As a naval officer, he had no concept of this.
Charles explained:
“First, you need to transport armored units to Gallipoli.”
“Second, you have to ensure a steady supply of fuel, spare parts, and maintenance, especially in the high-salt, high-humidity environment there.”
“Lastly, you’d have to order the troops to level the mountainous terrain in Gallipoli because it’s unsuitable for armored operations!”
General Winter stood agape. It was impossible.
And unnecessary. Why exert so much effort to achieve victory in Gallipoli when it would be far easier and more rewarding to secure success on the main front?
No one would make such a foolish choice—abandoning the easy path to take the hard one.
“This is the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’s’ insistence, you understand?” Charles stated bluntly. “The campaign in Gallipoli should have ended long ago, but the ‘First Lord’ refuses to acknowledge this for personal reasons. So, you should take these casualty numbers directly to him.”
“But he won’t care…” General Winter’s face paled.
He knew the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’ well—front-line soldiers were no more than ants in his eyes.
“But others will,” Charles reminded him.
General Winter understood. Charles was suggesting leveraging public opinion to remove the ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’ from the chain of command, including the Dardanelles Committee.
Charles concluded:
“This has nothing to do with me. How you proceed is your business.”
“I just hope you don’t try to send me to the Dardanelles to turn things around again.”
“I won’t do something so foolish!”
General Winter accepted Charles’s reasoning.
Indeed, it was foolish—like forcing Charles to abandon the watermelon in front of him to chase a sesame seed thousands of miles away, one that might not even be there.
Such a simple truth, and yet he had been blind to it until now.
At that moment, a cheer erupted from the telegraph room. A signalman ran up to Charles, reporting excitedly, “General, the Germans have sent envoys to negotiate with us. They wish to surrender!”
Charles turned to General Winter and spread his hands, as if to say, “This is what I’m supposed to be doing.”
General Winter nodded. “I know what needs to be done.”
…
News of the German surrender quickly spread through Antwerp, sparking celebrations everywhere.
Belgians poured into the streets to celebrate, playing musical instruments and dancing in the streets.
Soldiers emerged from fortresses and trenches, embracing each other as if the war had already ended.
Every telephone and telegraph line, military and civilian alike, buzzed with activity as people spread the news of victory to everyone they could reach.
Soon, the news reached Paris, igniting a similar fervor.
Even though the victory had seemed inevitable, its arrival still filled people with excitement. Praise for Charles abounded, with sentiments such as:
“Charles is the greatest—France is fortunate to have another Napoleon!”
“I think even Napoleon didn’t achieve such feats. He singlehandedly changed the world.”
“Yes, he shattered the myth of invincible trench warfare. Everyone thought the war would stagnate in the trenches forever, but he performed a miracle!”
…
Tears welled up in Lucia’s eyes as she finally received news that her family was safe. Now, hearing that the Germans were preparing to surrender, she could rest easy knowing there would be no ‘last desperate acts.’
…
Camille wept with joy amid her neighbors’ blessings. At last, she could believe that Charles had made a single French soldier capable of defeating a dozen Germans.
She felt immense pride. Charles had achieved the impossible. The Germans, who had been driving the Anglo-French forces to retreat and had even approached Paris, had been defeated by Charles!
Djoka, who had some understanding of military affairs, reflected:
“Whose talent has Charles inherited?”
“Camille’s? Or mine?”
The answer was clear—it was neither. This was his own talent.
But such talent—it was almost terrifying in its magnitude!
…
However, discordant voices arose amid the jubilation.
The newly appointed British ‘First Lord of the Admiralty,’ Belfour, issued a righteous statement:
“We acknowledge that Charles performed outstandingly in this campaign.”
“But this victory is inseparable from the Anglo-French forces’ steadfastness on the front line, where they fought for nearly a year and sacrificed tens of thousands.”
“Therefore, I believe it should be the Supreme Allied Commander who goes to accept the surrender.”
At the time, the Supreme Allied Commander was Joffre.
The British motives were obvious. They knew Joffre and Charles did not get along, and they aimed to sow discord, perhaps even ignite conflict, between the two.
Joffre’s camp remained silent, seemingly acquiescing.
Just as after Gallieni’s victory in the Battle of Paris, when reporters asked Joffre who deserved the credit, he replied: “I don’t know whose credit it is. I only know that if we had failed, people would think it was my fault.”
It was a clever way of binding responsibility and glory together to claim Gallieni’s achievements.
Charles also stayed silent. Speaking out would have been inappropriate—it would appear to deny the contributions of front-line soldiers, though the French public was indignant on Charles’s behalf.
At this moment, German commander Lieutenant General Beyer spoke up: “We will only surrender to Charles. If anyone disagrees, let them fight us!”