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I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 121
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 18:01:05 +0000 UTCChapter 121: The First Flight Squadron
The “synchronization gear” was invented in 1915 by a French pilot named Garros.
Originally called the “gun deflection system,” it was a simple mechanism where triangular steel plates reinforced the propeller blades. Coupled with a device linked to the engine shaft, it minimized the likelihood of bullets hitting the propeller.
If a bullet did strike the propeller, it would be deflected by the triangular plates—essentially an improvised shield against bullets.
However, the plane Garros flew was later captured by the Germans, who improved the system by connecting it directly to the propeller shaft instead of the engine shaft, making it more precise. With this improvement, aerial combat officially entered World War I.
From Charles’s perspective as an entrepreneur, he perhaps should have first developed the rudimentary “gun deflection system” rather than directly introducing the “synchronization gear.”
However, the former had a critical flaw—when bullets hit the deflection plates, they could ricochet back, damaging the engine or even killing the pilot.
Given the scarcity of pilots at the time, this was unacceptable, which is why Charles opted for the safer synchronization gear.
...
Back at headquarters, Charles habitually sat beside Lieutenant Colonel Fernand to organize intelligence, one of his regular duties.
But before he had fully settled, he heard Gallieni give an order:
“Fernand, your team will assist Charles in forming an independent command unit!”
“Yes, General…” Fernand reflexively replied, though the last two words came out hesitantly.
“Assist Charles”? Did he hear that right?
Charles was equally stunned. He and Fernand exchanged confused glances toward Gallieni.
“Did you not hear me?” Gallieni, with a blank expression, repeated emphatically, “Charles needs an independent command unit!”
“General…” Charles asked, perplexed, “Who am I supposed to command?”
“The Flying Club!” Gallieni replied without hesitation. “If I recall correctly, they’re the pilots you recruited. You know them best!”
“But I’m only a lieutenant…” Charles protested.
“I care about ability, not rank!” Gallieni interrupted, not even glancing up from the document he was reading.
“But I lack command experience, General!” Charles said.
At this, Gallieni finally looked up, his gaze carrying a hint of irony.
“Lack experience? Aren’t you the only person in the world to have successfully commanded an aerial operation? Or am I mistaken?”
Only then did Charles recall his actions in Antwerp, where he had directed the Belgian Air Squadron to shoot down zeppelins and destroy the “Big Bertha.” This could indeed be considered the first aerial combat of its kind.
But could that even be called aerial combat?
Ignoring Charles’s thoughts, Gallieni scanned the war room and declared, “If anyone has objections, now is the time to voice them!”
One by one, the staff officers responded:
“No objections, General!”
“Charles is capable of command!”
“We’ll follow his orders!”
...
Gallieni raised an eyebrow at Charles and said, “War doesn’t give us time to prepare, Lieutenant. The First Flight Squadron is established. They’ll be heading to Ypres this afternoon, and you’re their commander!”
Charles stood frozen for a moment, unable to process the situation.
The Paris First Flight Squadron—a lieutenant commanding a group of inexperienced second lieutenant pilots.
His staff, however, included a lieutenant colonel, a major, three captains, and two lieutenants, along with a dedicated radio unit and three signalmen.
The pressure was immense, particularly with Fernand, who had previously given Charles orders, now serving under him. This sudden shift in dynamics left Charles feeling disoriented.
“Relax, Lieutenant,” Lieutenant Colonel Fernand said, sensing Charles’s unease. He leaned closer and reassured him softly, “This happens often in the military. I’ve been preparing for this day for a while!”
Fernand’s words were only half true.
It was true that he had mentally prepared himself. After all, Charles’s exceptional talents had long convinced Fernand that he could teach Charles nothing and had instead learned from him. He believed Charles would one day outrank him, and he felt honored by the thought.
But the “a while” part? That was false—Fernand hadn’t expected this day to come so soon.
“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel,” Charles responded, though he still struggled to adjust to his new role.
Amid his hesitation, a firm pair of hands placed him in front of the table with the spread-out map.
It was Gallieni, who spoke in a low voice:
“Forget about ranks, staff officers, pilots—none of that matters. All that matters is this: you’re on the battlefield, and you have planes. How do you defeat the enemy?”
Charles suddenly realized what was truly important. The battlefield was the focus, not Fernand or the five or six staff officers with higher ranks. The enemy was what mattered.
Nodding, Charles collected his thoughts and calmly began issuing orders:
“I need a location roughly 30 kilometers from Ypres, with flat terrain and convenient transportation!”
Fernand immediately delegated the task: “Gerard, find this location!”
“Yes, sir!” Gerard scanned the map and replied within two minutes, “The village of Rodanse, 35 kilometers from Ypres and 2 kilometers from a railway station!”
“Rodanse,” Fernand repeated.
“Send out an engineering corps!” Charles continued. “Find a suitable spot near there to set up a temporary airfield and mark it on the map!”
Fernand assigned the task: “Michael, coordinate with the engineers!”
He knew his team well and assigned tasks according to their strengths.
“I need a batch of Vickers machine guns and ammunition!” Charles added. “At least 100 guns, with 2,000 rounds for each!”
Fernand decisively pointed to a staff officer and commanded, “Contact the British—make it quick!”
“And Congreve rockets, along with fuel,” Charles continued, pacing the office as he listed items. “Enough fuel for 30 aircraft for three days, 200 rockets, and electric detonators. Deliver everything to…”
Charles hesitated, struggling to recall the name of the foreign location.
“Rodanse!” Fernand supplied the name and relayed the orders: “To our temporary airfield!”
“Right!” Charles emphasized. “Transport everything discreetly. The enemy must not find out!”
Fernand repeated the command while jotting it in his notebook: “Transport discreetly!”
Gallieni watched all this unfold with satisfaction. He had known all along that this young man was a natural-born commander.
Just then, a signalman stationed by the telephone reported to Gallieni:
“General, the Chamber of Deputies has summoned you for an emergency inquiry this afternoon!”
Gallieni frowned and muttered under his breath, “Those fools. Do they think France has already won the war? Summoning me at a time like this…”
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