Chapter 578: The Christmas Offensive
Charles could distinctly feel the difference.
From being the center of attention and power, he was suddenly reduced to someone insignificant and powerless.
The officers still treated Charles with great respect, including Gamelin himself.
After all, Charles was the man who had repeatedly defeated the German army, saving countless lives. He also possessed assets rivaling those of any French industrial magnate, along with countless inventions and industrial patents.
Ordinary people would consider achieving just one of these accomplishments to be the pinnacle of life, yet Charles had them all. His genius was maddeningly enviable.
However, within the command center, their attitude toward Charles was merely perfunctory.
"Give me a copy of the review list!"
"Apologies, General," the staff officer replied. "We’ve been busy with training, and having just arrived a few days ago, we haven’t had the time to compile a review list."
"What about the detention list?"
"Those are just temporary decisions," the staff officer answered. "Most of them are released after a few days, so we don’t have a list either."
"Then let’s take a look at the detention rooms."
"General," the staff officer hesitated, looking troubled, "we suspect there are spies among them. During interrogations, no one is allowed to interact with them, or else..."
Or else there would be suspicions of collusion with the spies.
The staff officer’s response was watertight and without hesitation, clearly a premeditated excuse.
But Charles wasn’t worried; he was confident he could break through this deadlock.
Parliament was far too naive. Sitting in their offices all day, they had no idea how brutal the war was. They foolishly believed they could fully control the army, even one at war, solely through political maneuvering.
...
The next afternoon, Charles sat alone in the conference room, sipping coffee.
Since everyone was deliberately isolating him, he decided to embrace the quiet. Since coming to this world, Charles had rarely had a moment as leisurely as this.
But this wasn’t entirely true.
Charles was giving Weygand an opportunity—an opportunity to approach him alone.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Weygand entered with a document in hand. It was an officer roster, something the commander of an army group like Charles was supposed to be familiar with.
Pretending to go over the roster, Weygand leaned closer and whispered, "The order came directly from Prime Minister Briand. The Commander-in-Chief has parliamentary observers as well."
Briand?
Usually hiding behind Parliament, he had now personally issued orders.
The name wasn’t unfamiliar to Charles. Joffre’s patron was Briand, which was one reason Joffre had managed to hold onto the position of Commander-in-Chief despite having no military achievements.
Ultimately, Joffre was forced to step down because the cost of suppressing dissent or enduring his failures became too great. It wasn’t worth sacrificing so much for Joffre alone, so he was discarded.
"What should we do?" Weygand asked, voicing the same concern Foch likely had.
Charles replied calmly and unhurriedly:
"Christmas is approaching. To prevent another ‘Christmas truce’ from occurring, I believe we should launch an offensive."
"But since the mutiny has just ended, we should lower the intensity of the attack."
"Therefore, the objective should focus on ‘training the troops’ rather than capturing enemy positions or inflicting heavy casualties."
Weygand furrowed his brows, trying to understand what Charles meant, but it didn’t seem to relate to the current situation at all.
Charles continued issuing instructions as if to himself: "Relay what I said to the Commander-in-Chief; he’ll understand."
It wasn’t appropriate for Charles to send a direct telegram to Foch. Although Charles had his own communications team and radio station, they were likely under surveillance.
Weygand was the perfect intermediary.
"Yes, General," Weygand replied.
At that moment, he noticed someone entering out of the corner of his eye, and his tone immediately shifted. "There are over 130 officers ranked major and above. If you have any additions, we’ll give your opinions full consideration."
Charles sneered, "My opinion? Does my opinion matter at all?"
He shoved the roster toward Weygand with a look of disdain. "I don’t need this. Get it out of my sight!"
"Yes, General." Weygand smoothly took the roster and exited the conference room.
...
Fine rain fell over the Somme River frontline, with the sound of gunfire and artillery continuing unabated from the northern bank.
Since Charles had led the Sixth Army Group to push the defensive line forward by five kilometers, the situation on the southern bank of the Somme had gradually stabilized.
This wasn’t just due to Charles’s victory; it was also because the French army had seized several German defensive lines that had been meticulously constructed.
Though these defenses weren’t as strong as those further back, they were leagues ahead of the trenches held by the British and French.
Foch had set up his headquarters here because the Battle of the Somme was not yet over. The British forces on the northern bank were still attacking the Germans, with casualties continuing to rise.
The British offensive was even more intense than before.
This was because Charles had advanced the line by five kilometers at the cost of just over a thousand casualties. In contrast, the British were suffering daily losses of several thousand to over ten thousand without making any progress. This humiliated both Haig and Kitchener.
Haig was desperate for results.
However, all he could do was continually increase troop deployments and urge soldiers to launch attacks.
Foch was worried about none of this.
Seated at his desk, signing papers absentmindedly, Foch’s thoughts were far away with the Sixth Army Group and Charles in Belgium.
Previously, Parliament’s "discriminatory treatment" of Charles was veiled. Now, even that pretense had been abandoned as they blatantly acted in the open.
How would Charles counter this?
If Parliament managed to sideline Charles, he would likely find it impossible to continue his anti-submarine campaign and resolve the supply crisis.
This would mean that Foch, as Commander-in-Chief, would be reduced to a mere puppet of the British.
As Foch frowned, pondering a solution, a staff officer approached with a telegram in hand and whispered, "Commander-in-Chief, a telegram from Weygand."
Foch was momentarily stunned, glancing cautiously around before casually taking the telegram and nodding.
He didn’t immediately read it, instead continuing to sign papers, though he was eager to know its contents.
When the staff officer left, Foch tossed aside his paperwork and, pretending to take a break, picked up the telegram.
It read: "Christmas offensive. Mutiny barely resolved. Conduct limited operations for training purposes."
After a brief moment of thought, Foch’s face lit up with approval. This guy really had a way with strategy—Parliament had met its match!
Glancing at the calendar on his desk, Foch noted there were three days left until Christmas. He immediately called out to a staff officer a few meters away: "Colonel Enès, draft a telegram to Paris. I plan to launch an offensive on Christmas Eve, to last five days."
"But, General," the staff officer’s expression darkened as others paused their work, "we’ve only just regained morale. Launching a large-scale offensive so soon might provoke backlash..."
"I’ll explain it to Paris," Foch interrupted sharply.