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I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 130
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 18:10:01 +0000 UTCChapter 130: I Only Directed That Battle
The rain in Ypres continued its relentless drizzle, even though the battle had come to an end.
The German army's losses were significant—over 10,000 casualties in two days of attacks—while the casualties on the Allied side were negligible.
More importantly, a consensus seemed to form among the German forces, including General Cross: they could not defeat the enemy across from them, even though they still held a numerical advantage.
Thus, under pressure from Chief of Staff Falkenhayn, General Cross repeatedly refused to organize an offensive.
In a telegram to Falkenhayn, he wrote:
“If the enemy continues to maintain air superiority, any so-called offensive on our part would simply be pushing soldiers to the frontlines to serve as targets. I refuse to do that!”
Not long afterward, French reinforcements arrived, further solidifying General Cross’s decision to abandon the attack.
General Foch took over command at Ypres.
Everyone expected General Foch to launch an immediate offensive, as both soldiers and civilians were familiar with his aggressive style.
However, to their surprise, Foch did not.
Instead, he gradually rotated the French troops to relieve the Belgian forces and established a system of rotating frontline defenses.
And that was all. The troop deployments remained unchanged, with artillery still positioned five kilometers behind the defensive line, unmoved.
Many, including King Albert I, speculated that Charles’s defensive setup was so flawless that Foch dared not make any alterations for fear of error.
General Charles’s analysis perhaps captured Foch’s mindset:
“General Foch is a clever man. Building upon the tremendous victory achieved by Charles’s defensive strategy, any offensive on his part that resulted in heavy losses without significant gains would lead to public humiliation, potentially discrediting his military theories altogether.”
“So he prefers to let others speculate, even if those speculations reflect poorly on him!”
...
Charles didn’t dwell on such matters. Instead, he welcomed another two-day leave.
Occasionally, he wondered what would happen if his leave were abruptly scheduled in the middle of a battle. Would he abandon the frontlines, including the First Flying Squadron, to return home?
He doubted Gallieni would permit it!
Fortunately, such a situation had yet to arise. Even when he was sent to Antwerp under false pretenses, he had “managed” to return just in time on the second night.
Charles enjoyed breakfast at home. Compared to the officers’ mess, he preferred Camille’s apple tarts. More importantly, eating at the officers’ mess often meant Camille would insist on feeding him more when he got home.
As Charles bit into a warm, crispy, fragrant apple tart, the Le Petit Journal was once again “thoughtfully” delivered by his neighbors.
“This time it’s Ypres, Mrs. Bernard!” a neighbor exclaimed. “Charles has won another brilliant battle!”
Camille shot Charles a steely glance before rushing to the door to grab the newspaper. After a quick scan, she waved it at Charles, her expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “They sent you to the front again?”
“No, Mama!” Charles explained. “I’ve been in Paris the whole time. I only directed that battle by phone and telegram!”
Hearing this, Camille heaved a sigh of relief. She only cared whether Charles was at the frontlines; everything else was beyond her concern or understanding.
“Directed?” Djoka took the newspaper from Camille, stunned. He ate while reading but soon stopped mid-bite.
Djoka looked up at Charles, incredulous. “Are you saying you directed the Battle of Ypres?”
“Part of it!” Charles corrected him.
“Which part?” Djoka asked.
“The aerial operations,” Charles replied hesitantly, unsure whether to reveal the specific unit. “Also, I handled some artillery decisions, though not much!”
Charles had made key strategic decisions regarding the placement and timing of artillery fire.
For logistical support, such as supplies, General Gallieni took charge.
Djoka swallowed with difficulty.
Over the past few days, rumors had spread that the French army had mounted machine guns on planes, achieving a stunning victory at Ypres. Despite the Germans amassing several times the troops, they dared not attack recklessly.
Djoka had suspected Charles might be involved, and now his suspicions were confirmed.
“Just tell me you didn’t do all this just to sell tractors!” Djoka said, laughing.
Charles nodded. “It is related to selling tractors!”
The two shared a knowing laugh.
While others focused on the planes and the battlefield, or the artillery’s impressive feat of killing and wounding over 10,000 enemies, few noticed the logistics.
Four artillery regiments, totaling 152 cannons, had been hauled through Ypres’s muddy terrain by tractors.
Additionally, over 300 tractors shuttled between the battlefield and the railway station, ferrying supplies and ammunition while evacuating the wounded.
Gallieni had purchased the first batch of 500 Holt 60 tractors from Charles and soon ordered another 500 at a unit price of 2,500 francs.
These two orders alone brought Charles a windfall of 2.5 million francs.
The Holt 60 tractors had been purchased from Francis for just 900 francs each, netting Charles a profit of 1,600 francs per unit—a staggering margin.
And it wasn’t over. Charles still had 800 Holt 60 tractors in stock. With the rainy season approaching, military demand was bound to surge, promising even greater profits.
With just this deal, Charles had effectively doubled his wealth.
Camille, unaware of the tractor dealings, asked, “What tractors?”
“Nothing,” Djoka interjected. “We’re just discussing the tractor factory’s business!”
Djoka shot Charles a meaningful glance, intent on keeping Camille in the dark about Francis’s involvement.
...
In his villa, Francis sat alone on the sofa, puffing on his pipe with audible irritation. His expression was darker than the smoldering embers of his tobacco.
He realized he had been duped. He’d heard that the military had purchased a large number of Holt 60 tractors for battlefield use, yet he hadn’t received a single order from them.
The only plausible explanation: the military’s tractors were the same batch he had recently sold to Vartan—his inventory!
An Algerian aristocrat?
Transported to Algeria for farming?
All lies. It had all been resold to the military at a hefty profit!
And what about Grevy and Armand, those parliamentary insiders? Why hadn’t they caught wind of this or issued any warnings?
Could it be... they were complicit?
Francis suddenly felt a deep sense of isolation, as though everyone around him had betrayed him, leaving him alone in the dark.
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