Chapter 465: Joffre’s Fall from Grace
In the conference room of the French General Headquarters at Lagadane, a fierce argument was taking place.
"We cannot let Romania join the Entente, Commander-in-Chief," Gallieni insisted, glaring at Joffre. "I believe it would be more beneficial for them to remain neutral."
"Really?" Joffre expressed his doubt. "How would that benefit us? By continuing to sell oil to the Germans? Or grain, coal, and even weapons and ammunition?"
"That’s true," Gallieni admitted, "but it’s still better than having all of Romania fall under German control."
"Have you considered what it would mean for Germany to control all of Romania?" Joffre countered. "Think of the oil, grain, and the arms factories that the Austro-Hungarian Empire could directly exploit—everything!"
Joffre chuckled dismissively, a scornful smile playing on his lips. He retorted, "And have you considered what might happen if our plan succeeds?"
"The war would end, General," he stated bluntly. "It would be the combined might of more than 3 million troops from over a dozen countries attacking them simultaneously. Instead of imagining that Germany could occupy Romania, you should be praying for their downfall!"
(Note: Joffre included the forces of Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Romania, and their colonial armies in his calculations.)
Gallieni, however, remained firm. "Look at the map, Commander-in-Chief. The encirclement you envision is already in progress, yet there’s been no breakthrough anywhere except under Charles’ leadership. Some sectors are even in retreat. You’re placing your hopes on Romania’s entry to somehow turn the tide?"
Gallieni had come to this realization after speaking with Charles.
On the surface, Joffre’s encirclement plan seemed overwhelming, involving over 3 million troops from a dozen countries. It was a force nearly unmatched on Earth. However, most of these forces were bogged down in trench warfare. The British and French main forces were stalemated, Italy’s million-strong army was making no progress, and Russia was in retreat.
Could adding Romania’s 500,000 troops and coordinating a simultaneous counteroffensive by the other nations really defeat the German forces?
Wasn’t this too optimistic?
But Joffre was unwilling to admit any flaws in his plan.
"Your reasoning is laughable," Joffre sneered, tapping the table emphatically with his finger. His eyes gleamed with disdain. "We already debated this in the last meeting, and you didn’t oppose it then. Coordinated counteroffensives apply far greater pressure on the Germans than isolated efforts. And Romania’s entry would only amplify this effect."
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Joffre leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated "Oh." He said with a sly smile, "I see now. You don’t want me to succeed."
"What?" Gallieni was taken aback.
"I’m not mistaken, am I?" Joffre said, his tone mocking. "You want Charles to be the victor, which is why you’re trying to dissuade me now."
Gallieni was stunned, unable to believe Joffre’s accusation.
"It all makes sense now," Joffre declared as if a revelation had struck him. "I always wondered why someone would oppose the inclusion of an oil-rich nation. The truth is finally clear..."
Gallieni, furious, glared at Joffre, his voice hoarse with anger. "No, Commander-in-Chief, this is an insult to my character!"
"No, General," Joffre replied calmly, shaking his head. "This has nothing to do with character—it’s about interests. I understand."
Without waiting for Gallieni to respond, Joffre raised his voice, speaking with righteous conviction.
"However, General Gallieni, don’t forget that you are a lieutenant general of France, a man privately hailed as the 'Savior of Paris!'"
"So before considering personal or factional interests, shouldn’t you prioritize France’s interests? Or, even more importantly, the common interests of the Entente? That is what a soldier should do!"
"This is our duty, as well as our accountability to the citizens of France and to all who have sacrificed."
Gallieni trembled with rage. "No, Commander-in-Chief! This is slander—baseless and defamatory! I refuse to accept it..."
"Then explain one thing to me, General," Joffre said, spreading his hands. "How could we possibly reject the entry of a nation of such strategic importance?"
He added, almost as an afterthought, "If you’d like, I can bring this matter to the meeting for discussion. Or, after the war, have it published in the press. Let’s see whether the people of France support you or me!"
Gallieni froze.
Letting Romania join the Entente seemed, at first glance, to be the obvious choice. Even Gallieni had initially believed so.
Joining was certainly better than not joining—that was common sense.
Thus, whether debated in the meeting or judged by public opinion, Joffre’s position would likely prevail over Gallieni’s.
Gallieni realized that he could not convince Joffre, who had already decided that Gallieni was sabotaging the war plan out of personal loyalty to Charles.
Grinding his teeth, Gallieni simply said, "Goodbye, Commander-in-Chief," and left.
As he exited the conference room, he heard Joffre’s derisive laughter behind him.
Gallieni’s face was pale as he returned to his car for the drive back to Paris.
He remained silent the entire way, staring blankly into space, his mind a tumult of unresolved anger.
Why had it come to this?
It was Joffre’s unrealistic encirclement plan, driven by personal ambition, that Gallieni had merely criticized. Yet he was accused of undermining it for selfish reasons.
And the worst part? He had no way to defend himself.
The more he thought about it, the more it consumed him, as though a weight pressed upon his chest, suffocating him. His abdomen tensed, his vision darkened, and he collapsed onto the car’s rear seat...
...
In the 13th arrondissement of Paris, at the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital...
Gallieni slowly opened his eyes to see Charles, expressionless, peeling an apple with a fruit knife at his bedside.
"Hey, Brigadier," Gallieni muttered, scanning his surroundings in confusion as he tried to sit up. "Where am I? Antwerp?"
"Don’t move, General," Charles said, rushing to stop him. "You’re in Paris, at the hospital."
Gallieni took a moment to recollect the events, then smiled bitterly and shook his head. "I couldn’t persuade Joffre."
"Hmm." Charles sliced the apple into small pieces and placed them on a plate. He speared a piece with a fork and held it out to Gallieni. "Don’t worry about that anymore. Leave it to me!"
"Leave it to you?" Gallieni asked, puzzled, staring at Charles.
This wasn’t something Charles could intervene in. What could he do?
However, the icy determination in Charles’ eyes told Gallieni otherwise.
The young man had made up his mind. He was going after Joffre.
Joffre was doomed. No one could oppose Charles—not even Joffre!