Chapter 587: Surrender Charles
In the Letebroe Command Center, the thunder of artillery echoed from the front lines as staff officers bustled about, transmitting messages to and from the field.
It was a restless Christmas Eve.
Not because the battle against the Germans was particularly intense, but because Charles’ “battle” with Parliament had yet to reach a conclusion. Neither side dared to relax their vigilance.
Charles, at least, had a valid reason to stay awake past midnight. Having just regained command, he had an overwhelming number of matters to address.
Gamelin, on the other hand, was in an entirely different position. With nothing to do but unwilling to leave, he could only sit at his nearly blank desk, staring idly at nothing. To mask his embarrassment, he made cup after cup of coffee, quietly sipping away.
Gamelin couldn’t comprehend how he had lost to Charles. He had arrived at the front days before Charles’ return from leave, implementing his plans—arrests, detentions, and ensuring that key positions were controlled by his confidants.
He had thought that no matter how capable Charles might be, a comeback was impossible. Yet, in just two days, command had shifted naturally and seamlessly back into Charles’ hands.
What made Gamelin’s loss even harder to bear was the fact that those who had handed Charles the reins of power were his own subordinates from Paris—trusted confidants, his “left and right arms” meant to control the Sixth Army.
Traitors! Shameless bastards! Gamelin cursed inwardly.
He glanced at Weygand, one of the few staff officers who still stood loyally by his side.
Yes, Weygand was a man of Foch and would never, under any circumstances, align himself with Charles.
“Where are the British?” Gamelin asked wearily.
“General…” Weygand hesitated before replying, “The British…”
Gamelin, sensing something odd, felt a pang of unease. Could something have gone wrong with the British forces as well? They were his last hope.
Despite Charles’ assertion that the British were merely scapegoats, Gamelin believed that the British, controlling essential supplies, still held significant leverage.
“What’s the matter?” Gamelin pressed.
Weygand straightened, summoning his courage. “General, the railway between Brussels and Letebroe was blown up by German guerrillas, and the roads have collapsed due to the rainy season…”
“So, the British can’t make it?” Gamelin interrupted.
“No, General,” Weygand replied. “One regiment has arrived, but the rest may need several days to get here.”
Gamelin was momentarily speechless.
What could a single regiment do? Two to three thousand men wouldn’t even put a dent in the Sixth Army.
If the main force needed several days, by then, the Sixth Army would be firmly under Charles’ control.
But something felt off to Gamelin.
Why had the Germans chosen now to blow up the railway, and why had they so precisely targeted the route leading to Letebroe?
Could this be another of Charles’ schemes?
Gamelin glanced at Charles a few meters away, busy signing documents and discussing matters with his staff.
That detestable man! So young, yet so astonishingly capable.
...
In truth, Gamelin’s suspicions were unfounded. The incident had nothing to do with Charles.
It wasn’t an accident, nor was it the work of German guerrillas, but rather Belgian partisans.
At this moment, King Albert I’s forces were pouring into Letebroe, arriving in waves by train.
Two divisions of regular troops, combined with militias, numbering a total of 60,000 men, controlled all routes leading to Letebroe, including mountain paths.
Any movement by Allied forces in other directions was immediately relayed to King Albert I.
Thus, the British railway to Letebroe was severed, and the road was blocked. Only one British regiment, stationed nearby, had managed to arrive on foot.
However, upon arrival, that British regiment found themselves surrounded by Belgian troops, narrowly avoiding disarmament.
...
At the Sixth Army Headquarters, the church bells chimed, marking the arrival of 4 a.m.
Charles remained engrossed in signing various orders.
Reclaiming command came with its share of complications; nearly every directive from the regiment level upward required Charles’ approval. Matters that were ordinarily handled at the brigade or division level were now being sent to the Army Commander’s desk.
Thus, his hands ached from signing papers, and his voice was hoarse from granting authorizations.
Still, it was all worth it. Anything was better than allowing power to return to the “intermediary” officers, which would ultimately centralize under Gamelin again.
A staff officer approached Charles and reported, “General, King Albert I and his Belgian forces have blockaded Letebroe. He has sent a message demanding that we surrender you to him.”
“Surrender me?” Charles paused mid-signature, looking up in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“I… I don’t know either,” the staff officer stammered, equally perplexed.
The next second, Charles understood. King Albert I likely believed he had been imprisoned or otherwise coerced, leading the Belgian forces to launch a rescue operation.
Charles couldn’t help but laugh. At least the man had some conscience.
“Get me a line to King Albert I,” Charles instructed. “I want to speak with him.”
“Yes, General,” the staff officer replied, hurrying off to make the arrangements.
Within ten minutes, the telephone rang. After confirming the identity of the caller, the staff officer handed the receiver to Charles. “General, it’s King Albert I.”
Charles set his pen aside and took the phone, saying, “Hello?”
“General, are you alright?” came King Albert I’s anxious voice.
“I’m fine,” Charles replied. “How many men did you bring?”
“Sixty thousand in total,” King Albert I answered. “Don’t worry. The British are stuck on the road and won’t arrive for several days.”
Charles was momentarily speechless.
If the British couldn’t arrive, who would take the fall for him?
Without a scapegoat, the Parliament would find no way to back down, and the matter would drag on. Your Majesty!
Fortunately, King Albert I added, “However, Lieutenant General Avis and his elite cavalry division are en route. I couldn’t find an excuse to block them.”
Cavalry had the advantage of mobility; even with blocked roads, they could easily navigate around obstacles.
“No need to block them,” Charles said quickly. “Let them through.”
“Are you sure?” King Albert I asked, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken.
He was testing whether Charles truly had freedom.
“Rest assured,” Charles replied. “The Sixth Army is already under my control.”
Hearing the ease in Charles’ voice, King Albert I felt reassured. Charles didn’t sound like a man under duress.
As expected of Charles—reclaiming command without external help.
After setting down the phone, Charles walked over to Gamelin and said, “General, this may be good news for you: Lieutenant General Avis’ cavalry division will arrive in about an hour.”
A flicker of joy crossed Gamelin’s face. So they’re finally coming.
“So,” Gamelin said, with a touch of smugness, “are you ready to welcome him?”
Charles looked at Gamelin incredulously. Could this man still be pinning his hopes on the British?