Chapter 478: I Don’t Need to Worry About Anything
Verdun Front.
The rumbling of artillery echoes between the cliffs and hills of the Marne Valley, as thick smoke rises like a giant hand, continuously covering the gruesome battlefield.
The mountainsides explode, sending stones and rubble tumbling down.
The land is lifted into the air, and the dust flying up mingles with the smoke, lingering for a long time without dissipating.
Forests are set aflame by the artillery, burning in patches. The crimson flames light up the sky like blood, blinding in their intensity, as the fire spreads, greedily consuming everything nearby.
It is a hellish scene, filled with death, corpses, and blood, where life seems utterly insignificant.
...
Inside the Suvire Fort, Major General Lacoste of the 2nd Army, who is nearing his sixties, sits at his desk, dejectedly staring at the map in front of him.
The sound of enemy artillery can be heard intermittently from outside the fort, with thick smoke creeping through the gun slits, soon disappearing, leaving only the suffocating stench of gunpowder and dust.
"We’re done for, Klein," Major General Lacoste sighs softly, his gaze turning toward the German lines. "The orders from the commander-in-chief are still to advance. He wants to push all of us into the enemy’s guns."
"General!" Colonel Klein, the staff officer, gasps in shock and quickly lowers his voice to stop him. "This is the command post!"
As a commander, one must never speak such demoralizing words. Such talk would affect the morale and hasten the collapse of the troops.
Sure enough, the faces of the communications officers and staff members nearby grow awkward. If the commander thinks like this, should they prepare to flee?
Major General Lacoste smiles faintly. "What difference does it make? The result is the same."
Colonel Klein has no response.
Charging straight into the enemy’s guns does not require morale. In fact, the higher the morale, the faster the troops are eliminated by the enemy.
At this moment, a voice came through the communications officer: "General, I’ve heard that they plan to send Charles to command Verdun. The parliament is discussing this."
The officers and soldiers in the command post instantly lit up with joy.
If Charles comes, there will no longer be such near-suicidal offensives. He will lead everyone to victory, just as he had done on the battlefield before.
Major General Lacoste, however, shook his head slightly.
That’s just a morale-boosting trick. How could Joffre let Charles take over command of Verdun?
Moreover, if the 2nd Army keeps fighting like this, it will be wiped out in two days. What difference will it make if Charles arrives then?
At this moment, two men burst into the room, their faces blackened by the smoke of artillery, their uniforms covered in dust, a thick layer of which made them appear almost like "dirt men," with their ranks barely visible.
The short officer brushed the dust off his clothes, cleared his throat, and asked, "Where is the general? Where is Major General Lacoste?"
No one answered.
The staff officers thought the man had gone mad for asking such a question in that tone about Major General Lacoste.
"You should salute, soldier," Colonel Klein frowned. "Haven’t they taught you how to address your superior officer?"
The short officer did not respond, but the tall major who had come with him did not let it go.
He stood in front of Colonel Klein, saluted sharply, chest out, and said, "You should salute the officer, Colonel. I’m sure they taught you how to address your superior!"
Colonel Klein snorted angrily and looked at the major, his hand already resting on the revolver at his waist.
These two must be mad, their minds shattered by the enemy’s artillery. People like them are dangerous.
Colonel Klein signaled to the guards at the sides, who understood the cue and moved forward aggressively to restrain the two.
But as they approached, someone suddenly exclaimed: "It’s... it’s him... it’s Charles! My God, it’s Charles!"
"Yes, I recognize him too, it really is Charles!"
...
Everyone was stunned, including Colonel Klein and Major General Lacoste, all staring blankly at the short officer.
The short officer flipped up his coat collar, brushing off a cloud of dust, revealing the two stars that had been hidden. He spoke with a hint of confusion: "What? Didn’t Joffre notify you? You’re all under my command now!"
Major General Lacoste quickly stepped forward and saluted. "Sorry, Brigadier, I... I haven’t received any orders. I’ll verify with the commander-in-chief immediately."
A cheer erupted in the command post, and the officers and soldiers scrambled to shake hands with Charles: "I can’t believe it, it’s really you!"
"Welcome, Brigadier."
Others ran out of the fort, shouting to the soldiers in the trenches outside, "Charles is here, Charles has come to command us!"
...
Joffre had indeed not notified the front-line troops. He thought Charles couldn’t possibly have arrived so quickly.
It was only 1 p.m. at that point, and Joffre had agreed to the plan just over three hours ago.
The session in the Chamber of Deputies was still ongoing, with the parliamentarians continuing to discuss the situation at Verdun, exchanging words back and forth, as is customary, it would take at least a few days or even a week.
Inside the command post, Joffre secretly felt relieved. He had originally thought his position as commander-in-chief was mostly lost, but Charles’ actions had turned things around for him.
"One day?" Joffre leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing his legs, a contemptuous smile on his fleshy face. "He actually thinks he can change the course of the battle in one day, and with my troops."
Joffre mused, tomorrow he could block the logistics and gradually tighten the supply lines. By the time Charles arrives, there might not even be enough ammunition. Let’s see how he "changes the battle."
A staff officer hurried in with a telegram, reporting, "General, the 2nd Army has sent word. Charles has reached the front line. Should we let him take command?"
Joffre suddenly tensed, his bulky body almost falling off his chair. He struggled to steady himself, gripping the edge of the desk, looking at the officer in shock. "What did you say? Charles is already at the front?"
"Yes," the officer nodded. "He has arrived at the Suvire Fort."
The officer quickly realized that Joffre didn’t know where Suvire Fort was, and hurriedly added, "The 2nd Army has established a defensive line there, with Major General Lacoste setting up the command post."
Joffre regained his composure and responded with a resigned "Hmm" and a touch of helplessness in his eyes. "Agree to let Charles take over command of the 2nd Army... and the 30th Army!"
He knew he had to abide by the declaration made in the Chamber of Deputies.
Inwardly, he cursed the damned fool. "I can’t just order the supplies to stop now!"
Doing so would be too obvious. Everyone would see it as an attempt to sabotage Charles, disregarding national security, the success of the campaign, and the lives of soldiers on the front. This would only plunge him deeper into a public relations nightmare.
But if he did nothing, he would have to watch as supplies kept flowing to the front.
After thinking for a while, Joffre gritted his teeth and decided to do nothing.
After all, it’s only one day. I don’t need to worry about anything, he thought.