Chapter 489: Achievements Don’t Always Come from the Battlefield
“How are we supposed to do this, Your Excellency?” Haig asked, confusion written all over his face as he looked at Kitchener. “I mean, Charles’ unit managed to maneuver into Antwerp and captured over a hundred thousand Germans. This turned us from being in the warzone to being in the rear.”
Haig and his unit had once enjoyed such “peace,” but it seemed this lifestyle was coming to an end.
Haig spread his hands. “We can’t exactly just march into Antwerp and have Charles hand over the defensive line to us, can we?”
“No, of course not,” Kitchener replied.
As they spoke, headlights flashed outside the window. A car slowly decelerated and stopped at the gate for inspection by the guards.
“He’s arrived just in time,” Kitchener said.
“Who?” Haig asked, standing up and looking curiously at the car below.
“Someone who can bring our army onto the battlefield and showcase its strength,” Kitchener replied.
...
After stepping out of the car, Nivelle ascended the stairs. At the entrance, he paused for a moment, carefully adjusted his uniform, rolled his shoulders to relax, then put on a smile before pushing the door open.
(Above: Nivelle, of mixed Anglo-French heritage. His mother was British, granting him excellent oratory skills and fluent English. He maintained good relations with the British and, during World War I, relied on their support to leap over military giants to become the French Army’s Commander-in-Chief.)
“Marshal, General, I’ve heard so much about you!” Nivelle saluted the two men in turn before stepping forward to enthusiastically shake their hands.
Kitchener gestured for Nivelle to sit on the sofa in front of them, introducing him to Haig: “Major General Nivelle, commander of the 3rd Corps.”
Haig politely inclined his head and shook Nivelle’s hand. As he sat back down, he shot Kitchener a puzzled glance, not understanding the purpose of bringing this seemingly ordinary major general here.
Kitchener didn’t explain. Instead, he raised his glass toward Nivelle, effectively passing the conversation to him.
Sitting up straighter, Nivelle tried his best to remain composed.
“You must have heard about Joffre, General.”
“He’s been dismissed, and the deputies are discussing whether to revoke his military rank.”
Haig nodded. “Yes, poor Joffre has truly become pitiable Joffre now.”
Nivelle laughed cooperatively.
This remark poked fun at Joffre’s tendency to pat his own head and self-deprecatingly say, “Poor Joffre,” whenever things went wrong.
Nivelle continued, “With Joffre stepping down, the position of Commander-in-Chief has become vacant.”
“Although some have suggested Gallieni for the role, his health problems are well-known.”
“The deputies worry he cannot bear the burden and therefore prefer assigning him as Minister of War while giving him the less stressful role of Commander of the Reserve Army Group.”
Haig blurted, “What about Charles? Haven’t you considered Charles?”
“Of course, General,” Nivelle replied. “But the deputies generally believe Charles is too young. He’s still only a brigadier general, just eighteen years old, which makes it difficult for him to command widespread support. More importantly...”
Nivelle hesitated, reluctant to say the next part.
Kitchener, who had remained silent, took over. “Age and rank are not the real issues. As long as there’s ability, anyone can be Commander-in-Chief. After all, even Joffre made it.”
The men shared a knowing laugh. This had long been a running joke in military circles.
Kitchener, crossing his legs leisurely, continued, “The concern is that Charles wields too much power within the military.”
“Too much power?” Haig looked at Kitchener in disbelief before turning to Nivelle. “From what I know, Charles only commands a 20,000-strong unit.”
Commanding just 20,000 troops, and yet they feared his power?
“That’s correct, General,” Nivelle said, nodding. “But the key issue is his influence.”
Haig suddenly understood. Parliament wasn’t worried about the number of troops Charles commanded but his immense popularity.
Since the outbreak of the war, Charles had been invincible, winning battle after battle. Coupled with his reputation as a “conscientious capitalist,” he had garnered unwavering loyalty from both the lower classes and the military.
Charles might not command many troops or hold a high rank, but he had become the spiritual leader of both France’s military and civilian population.
If Charles were to assume the role of Commander-in-Chief, controlling the army, Parliament feared they might become irrelevant, paving the way for a military dictatorship.
Haig sneered. “The French—they always prioritize internal struggles.”
Then he realized Britain wasn’t much different and decided he had no grounds to mock the French.
Nivelle pretended not to hear that comment. Or rather, by the time he sat in this room, he had already naturally aligned himself with the British.
“Other potential candidates for Commander-in-Chief also have their flaws,” Nivelle analyzed further.
“Foch was recently dismissed due to Joffre’s influence.”
“Parliament doesn’t trust him much, believing he bears some responsibility for the mistakes at Verdun.”
“As for Pétain, his steadfast adherence to defensive strategies makes the deputies think he’s out of touch with current needs.”
Haig nodded in agreement.
Charles’ blitz to Antwerp and his recapture of Douaumont Fortress and the defensive lines in a single day couldn’t have been achieved with a defensive strategy.
Now that the situation had turned favorable, it was time for offense. Appointing Pétain as Commander-in-Chief would inevitably shift focus back to defense.
Then, Haig suddenly realized something, staring at Nivelle in astonishment. “You don’t mean to say you’re vying for Commander-in-Chief?”
“Yes, General,” Nivelle nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“You’re mad,” Haig exclaimed, his eyes widening. “You’re only a major general, with countless lieutenant generals ahead of you, not to mention army group commanders, any of whom could be chosen as Commander-in-Chief. And you’re just...”
Haig paused to recall, “...a corps commander.”
Nivelle looked embarrassed, unsure how to respond.
Kitchener took over. “Rank and position are irrelevant. If necessary, he’ll be promoted to lieutenant general tomorrow.”
Haig immediately grasped that Kitchener—and by extension, Britain—was involved.
“Oh,” Haig murmured. Britain intended to support Nivelle’s ascension as France’s Commander-in-Chief to secure their own strategic interests.
It seemed like a lucrative deal, Haig thought, but...
“Do you have any noteworthy achievements to your name?” Haig asked Nivelle.
“No, General,” Nivelle admitted, looking awkward.
Haig was visibly disappointed. They should have chosen someone who had at least won a few battles.
But Kitchener interjected, “Achievements don’t always have to come from the battlefield.”
“What?” Haig asked, baffled.
“Resources,” Kitchener said. “France is entering a phase of severe material shortages. Major General Nivelle can negotiate supplies from us.”
Kitchener tilted his head toward Nivelle. “At the same time, Major General Nivelle, as Commander-in-Chief, can also coordinate Anglo-French operations effectively. What do you think?”