Chapter 450: Charles' Promise
Friday's weather was clear, with a bright blue sky unmarred by clouds.
Early in the morning, the German troops stationed in Ghent, Belgium, assembled. Under orders from several French majors, they stood in long lines, neatly stacking their rifles into prepared wooden crates and undergoing searches.
They then removed their helmets, unbuckled their belts, tore off their rank insignias, and were finally allowed to pass through to the other side.
The surrender was being overseen by Charles' troops.
The event was finalized when Lieutenant General Beyer, the German commander, declared he would only surrender to Charles.
Joffre finally stopped resisting and made a disingenuous statement in the newspapers: "Charles deserves this honor. His achievements are unparalleled. As Commander-in-Chief, I am proud of him."
But admitting defeat at this point seemed too little, too late. The public had already seen through his pretense, and the damage to his prestige was irreversible.
For a victorious general like Charles, prestige might seem irrelevant; even if it was tarnished, a few more victories would quickly make people forget and cheer for him again.
For Joffre, however, a commander with virtually no accomplishments on the battlefield, the loss of prestige could spell the end of his career.
Many, including French parliamentarians, began to ponder a pressing question: "Is it still necessary for Joffre to remain as Commander-in-Chief? Would a change in leadership be more appropriate?"
Once such thoughts took root, every word and action of Joffre would be scrutinized under a magnifying glass, sealing his fate.
...
Charles led his troops on foot into Ghent as a gesture of respect toward the German forces.
"You don't need to do this, Brigadier General," Tigani said with evident disapproval. "Do you remember what the Germans did after we lost the Franco-Prussian War?"
Without waiting for Charles' response, Tigani continued, his voice tinged with anger:
"Wilhelm I, surrounded by princes and nobles, rode a majestic horse into Paris, while French nobles, ordered to receive him, stood on both sides, bowing and trembling, terrified that the Germans might send them to the guillotine."
"Although Wilhelm I didn't do that, he held his coronation ceremony in the Palace of Versailles and proclaimed the founding of the German Empire."
"This left an indelible scar on the hearts of every Frenchman, one that can never heal!"
(A historical depiction of Emperor Wilhelm I being crowned at the Palace of Versailles.)
Tigani's implication was that Charles should humiliate the surrendering German troops as the Germans had once humiliated France, avenging that bitter memory.
But Charles responded, "And then what? Wouldn't other Germans, to avoid such humiliation, choose to resist to the bitter end?"
Tigani froze for a moment, then understood. He looked at Charles with newfound respect in his eyes.
This was the thinking of a true strategist. Unlike ordinary people, who acted on emotion, Charles considered everything from the perspective of military advantage.
Since Charles chose to march on foot, other officers, including King Albert I, also chose to walk.
Behind them rumbled tanks, armored vehicles, and "Saint-Chamond" self-propelled artillery.
The procession was not large, consisting of only a battalion each of armored and mechanized troops, totaling just over a thousand soldiers with only twenty or so tanks.
When the news spread, the Belgians, dressed in their finest to welcome them, were incredulous. They had expected to witness the might of Charles' army but instead saw only such a small force.
This confusion even dampened the cheers somewhat, as people craned their necks to peer at the rear of the procession, whispering among themselves:
"Is the main force still coming?"
"These must be just Charles' guards!"
"Are the rest of the troops stationed outside the city?"
...
Soon, realization dawned on the crowd, and they exclaimed, "My God, this is all the troops Charles brought! He only brought a thousand men to accept the surrender of over a hundred thousand Germans!"
As they grasped the implications, a thunderous cheer erupted. The crowd roared Charles' name again and again.
This was precisely the effect Charles sought.
Previously, he had avoided appearing in public at specific times and places, fearing assassination by enemy agents.
But a surrender ceremony was different. This was the perfect moment to demonstrate courage, inspiring the Allies and psychologically impacting the Germans—both those who had surrendered and those still fighting.
The procession finally stopped at Ghent's central square, where the German and French armies stood facing each other in formation.
The German soldiers had been disarmed, while the French troops stood armed to the teeth, their tanks' dark muzzles pointed menacingly forward, exuding an air of unspoken power that contrasted starkly with the Germans' dejection.
(A depiction of Ghent's central square, the city's historical hub. Since 1199, it has hosted a market every Friday morning, earning it the name "Friday Square." The statue in the square commemorates Artvelde, a hero of the Hundred Years' War.)
The centuries-old tradition of the Friday market had been canceled that day, as the square filled with people waving Belgian and French flags, quietly awaiting the moment of the Germans' formal surrender.
Standing in the center of the French formation, Charles immediately drew the gaze of every German soldier.
Their eyes were complex—admiring, anxious, and, most of all, astonished, as if they couldn't believe that the person who had defeated them was such a young man.
Lieutenant General Beyer, however, remained composed. As a senior commander, he already knew that Charles was just eighteen.
Many of the soldiers were unaware, as the German high command had suppressed any discussion of Charles' "legend" and forbade its dissemination.
They feared that even speaking of Charles' achievements might demoralize the troops.
The military band began to drum, the rhythm slow at first, then accelerating. Suddenly, the drumming ceased, signaling the next phase of the ceremony.
Lieutenant General Beyer stepped forward, head held high, and approached Charles. Bowing slightly, he removed the sword from his belt and presented it to Charles with both hands. "You have won, General. I admit my defeat wholeheartedly."
Then he glanced around at the marching troops, nodding slightly. "Thank you for preserving our last shred of dignity. It means a great deal to us."
Charles accepted the sword with both hands. "I should be the one thanking you, General."
"Thank me?" Beyer looked at Charles, puzzled.
"You named me as the recipient of your surrender," Charles said with a hint of self-deprecation. "I almost lost to my own people."
Beyer managed a faint smile. "It was the right thing to do. You are the one who defeated us."
"You did well," Charles replied, then turned his gaze to the surrendering German soldiers. "You have done your best. When the tide of battle cannot be turned, laying down arms like this is the right choice. You are still heroes, and you will be treated with respect. That is my promise to you!"
A collective sigh of relief spread among the German soldiers—they had Charles' word!