Chapter 531: We Don't Need to Follow Their Ideas
At Antwerp Airport, Tigani repeatedly shouted at the newspaper in disbelief:
"No, this can't be true!"
"How could they do this?"
"To hell with them, these bastards!"
...
Finally, he threw the newspaper aside in frustration and turned to Charles, saying, "They lied to me. There was no victory. It was all a lie. The Germans were right!"
Then his gaze turned to one of confusion. "You knew this all along? How did you know? You haven’t left Antwerp since the battle started."
"I didn’t need to see it at the Somme to know the outcome." Charles took a sip of water from his cup. His old problem had flared up again; drinking more coffee led to shallow sleep, as though he were neither fully awake nor fully asleep.
As he set down the cup, Charles continued explaining, "I only needed to understand Haig’s military thinking. A man who despises machine guns and tanks, what kind of victory do you expect him to achieve on the battlefield?"
"Alright!" Tigani agreed. "His victories and tactics are only suitable for dealing with guerrillas and native tribes in the colonies."
Tigani had studied Haig. He knew Haig had served in India and participated in the Boer War in South Africa.
Charles was right. Using tactics and experiences accumulated on those low-intensity battlefields against the Germans was pure folly. A crushing defeat was inevitable.
Tigani sighed, his tone tinged with schadenfreude. "I’d love to see how they end up!"
Despite being a wealthy, carefree playboy, Tigani harbored a deep resentment for those who treated human life as expendable on the battlefield. He despised those who paved their promotion paths with the lives of others, who earned medals with the blood of soldiers.
"They’ll manage somehow," Charles raised an eyebrow. "You don’t need to worry about them."
Tigani scoffed. He wasn’t worried about those bastards, nor did he believe they could escape their inevitable fate.
But Charles knew otherwise. Historically, they had always managed to avoid consequences.
The reason was simple. As long as the war was spun as a "victory," the sacrifices would be deemed acceptable. After all, the war itself was so difficult; if anyone else fought it, it might even have been worse.
Thus, they wouldn’t be punished but instead rewarded with promotions and honors.
Charles didn’t want to see this outcome.
Once he was on the battlefield, Charles realized something: if you don’t kill the enemy, the enemy will kill you.
Nivelle, Haig, and Kitchener were all on Charles’s blacklist, for they sought to destroy him with their power.
As long as they held power, Charles could never be safe!
"Major General," a signalman approached with a telegram. "A message from Paris. The parliament wishes to meet with you. They say there’s something they need to discuss with you."
Charles smiled faintly as he took the telegram and raised it toward Tigani. "See, their plan has arrived."
Tigani paused, then understood. They wanted Charles to go command at the Somme.
If Charles achieved victory, their misdeeds would be hidden under the glow of success.
"You’re not going to do it, right?" Tigani looked at Charles, his face full of opposition, but soon hesitated.
Only Charles could stop these needless sacrifices. Although he would be used by these shameless bastards, he could save thousands of lives.
Charles didn’t answer. He calmly instructed the signalman, "Send a reply. I need three days to complete my current work."
He glanced at the calendar on the desk and added, "I will arrive on the morning of the 6th."
"Yes, Major General."
Tigani kept his eyes fixed on Charles, wanting to know what he would decide.
Charles helplessly replied, "We don’t need to follow their ideas, General."
"For instance, you should secretly send the troops to Mons and prepare for battle!"
Tigani responded with a surprised "Oh," as he understood. "Good idea, Major General."
...
Three days later, the Bourbon Palace, the House of Commons, was as lively as usual.
Lately, the House had never been quiet. They were debating Nivelle’s concealment of battle reports.
"Nivelle should be held accountable for this. It’s hard to imagine that as the commander-in-chief, he kept falsely reporting his achievements."
"No, this is related to the morale of the army and the confidence of the people. During wartime, there are many things that the public shouldn't know!"
"This isn’t the same thing. They did it for themselves, and I mean the British as well."
"I don’t think so. Sometimes, the cost of war must be paid. After all, our situation is far better than the British army’s. This shows that the commander-in-chief is making a difference."
"Maybe it’s not the commander-in-chief making a difference, but because our forces are smaller, so the casualties appear less. Five divisions, over 80,000 men, and 20,000 casualties—can this really be considered ‘better’?"
...
There’s always a way to cover up the truth, especially when military theory is subjective and unquantifiable. No one can say for sure whether a decision is right or wrong.
As a result, the members who supported Nivelle continued to argue, despite clear evidence of his falsified reports.
At this moment, Charles walked in, and the room instantly quieted. Everyone turned to look at him.
By now, Charles was quite familiar with the routine. He strode up to the front, politely took off his general’s hat, holding it in front of his stomach with his arm, and slightly bowed. "Sorry, gentlemen! I’m late. I was surrounded by reporters right after getting off the plane. They almost made me want to surrender!"
The members of parliament burst into laughter.
Charles, the undefeated commander on the battlefield, surrendering to reporters? They must be German spies in disguise!
Gallieni, the Minister of War, was seated at the back of the hall, representing the government.
He was very pleased with Charles's composed demeanor. This young man had grown up without him even realizing it, and there was a strange new edge to him, a fierceness he hadn’t shown before.
Perhaps the battlefield, the business world, and the political scene had honed his sharpness.
"Major General," an MP stood up and bluntly addressed the topic at hand.
"We’ve called you here today because of something very important."
"You’ve probably heard about the situation at the Somme?"
"Though there were some irregularities and unsatisfactory conditions, we unanimously agree that now is not the time to seek accountability."
"What’s important now is to resolve the problem, that is, how to change the situation at the Somme..."
Charles interrupted the MP, "I know what you’re trying to say, but I’m afraid I can’t do it."
The room erupted in noise, and even Gallieni was surprised.
Some had predicted Charles would refuse, as this was about cleaning up the mess left by his "opponents." No one would do this willingly.
But no one had expected Charles to refuse so decisively and firmly.
"No, you can’t do this." Some MPs began moral blackmail. "This concerns the lives of many soldiers. You are ignoring their deaths!"
"I didn’t order them to charge, gentlemen." Charles replied coldly. "You should be asking those generals who gave the orders."
The MPs fell silent.
After all, if they didn’t want sacrifices, they could have just ordered the soldiers to remain on defense.
"Furthermore," Charles continued, "I can’t do it because my own battle has already begun."
He stood tall, his voice not loud, but heavy with conviction. "My army is attacking Namur, and I must focus all my efforts on commanding that direction of the battle!"
The room was stunned, and some even dropped their canes in shock.