I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 118: A Deliberate Misunderstanding

Ypres, Belgium

The rain poured down in torrents, beating relentlessly against the ground, as dense sheets of water veiled the land like a waterfall. Everywhere, streams merged with muddy pools, and the world lay under a thick haze of mist and moisture.

Between the enemy and friendly lines stretched a several-kilometer-wide gray wasteland of death, scarred by scattered craters and sparsely scattered bodies—a sign that the battle here was only beginning.

Just ten kilometers to the west, hidden behind a modest hillside, lay a small, 10-square-meter fortification: the Belgian Army's central command post.

In the middle of the downpour, Major General Charles, commander of the Belgian First Army, addressed King Albert I.

"Your Majesty, I believe we should consider a retreat," he urged. "Ypres forms a bulge in the line, and with the flat terrain to the west and hilly terrain to the east, it places the Germans in a commanding position above us. We're essentially encircled, and it will be challenging to hold the line."

King Albert remained silent for a moment, then calmly asked, "General, where would we retreat to?"

"A mere twenty kilometers back would level the entire line," General Charles suggested, pointing at the map. "This would make things much easier for us."

The king countered, "That would mean abandoning Ypres, wouldn't it? And abandoning Belgium?"

General Charles fell silent, for retreating twenty kilometers would indeed mean stepping over the border into France.

Albert spoke thoughtfully, "Ypres is Belgium's last remaining territory, General. Losing it would mean the end of the country, failure, and Belgium's withdrawal from this war. It would also crush the spirit of the Belgian people, causing them to abandon the fight entirely."

Despite the absence of fortifications or defense lines, despite having only six undermanned Belgian divisions and two incomplete Allied divisions facing a formidable eleven German divisions, the king's resolve was clear.

"Then our only option is to open the Nieuwpoort sluice gates," General Charles said, his finger tracing a spot on the map. "Letting seawater flood into Ypres will buy us time and possibly enough for reinforcements to arrive."

Albert fell silent. He knew this drastic action would indeed hinder the German advance, but it would come at the cost of the Ypres citizens, who would suffer just as much.

After a pause, he finally asked, "Where are the reinforcements?"

"We've received only one French cavalry division so far," Charles replied. "The British have managed a single infantry division stationed to the north of Polygon Wood."

The odds were grim. On this terrain, a single German division could counter two Allied divisions.

"Any word from Charles?" Albert asked suddenly, his voice filled with a new hope.

The general felt certain that Charles, despite being just one man, could lift the morale of the Belgian army like no other. With Charles in Ypres, the exhausted, disheartened soldiers would feel their spirits surge again.

"Unfortunately, no," Charles replied with an awkward look. "General Gallieni feels that, given the unresolved internal issues here, it wouldn't be appropriate to place Charles in command at the moment."

Albert nodded, fully understanding. Even he couldn't guarantee that, should Charles arrive in Ypres, there wouldn't be those who, as in General Gisse's case, would attempt to hand him over to the Germans. After all, many believed Belgium was on the verge of collapse and that surrendering Charles would be a quick path to ending the suffering.

As he stood at the entrance to the command post, he watched the rain lighten, and the sun begin to pierce through the clouds. In this coastal region, rain came and went with surprising speed. However, this wasn't a good sign—sunny spells were often followed by fresh German assaults.

As expected, a faint cannon blast reached them from the front lines. Moments later, a soldier caked in mud came crawling into the post, barely able to stand but somehow managing to salute the king.

"Sire, the Germans have launched another assault—this one is even fiercer than the last," he reported weakly.

Albert turned to the map, considering his options. With great reluctance, he ordered, "Prepare to open the sluice gates."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Charles replied, giving the command to his staff.

But just then, a radio operator stood up. "Sire, there's a transmission from General Gallieni! The French are dispatching artillery and aircraft to reinforce Ypres. Aircraft will be ready in two hours, and artillery will arrive tonight. General Gallieni asks Your Majesty to hold the line until tomorrow."

The king's lips curled into a faint smile as he pictured the mire outside the fort. Could they really bring in artillery? He was skeptical—the artillery would likely be immobilized in the mud, and their ammunition would never make it to the front.

"And the planes?" Albert mused. "Where would they even land?"

Just then, the radio operator added, "General Gallieni states that Charles will be in charge of the reinforcements."

Albert turned to face the operator, his expression shifting.

"Did you say Charles?"

The others in the room were just as stunned. All eyes turned to the radio operator, scarcely believing what they'd heard.

Albert strode forward and snatched the dispatch, scanning it by the dim lamplight. When he finished, he raised it in the air triumphantly, his voice trembling with excitement.

"It's true—Charles is coming to reinforce us!"

Cheers erupted from the command post. Some soldiers bolted outside, slipping and stumbling through the mud, shouting the news to those huddled in the trenches. "Charles is coming! Charles is coming to reinforce us!"

The soldiers took up the call, and their cries of joy echoed across the defensive line.

General Charles glanced at the dispatch with a puzzled look, seeking clarification from the king.

Albert simply gave a subtle shake of his head, and the general understood: the king was knowingly misinterpreting the message. The wording only said Charles would "command" the reinforcements, not that he'd personally arrive.

Charles remained silent, tacitly supporting the king's decision.

Then, he straightened up and asked, "Your Majesty, do we still need to open the gates?"

"No," Albert replied with newfound confidence. "We have Charles. We won't need the sea to defend us. Let the Germans come!"

Charles nodded in agreement, knowing the soldiers' morale alone could sustain them until reinforcements arrived.

Charles's very name seemed to have a magic power—men on the brink of surrender had been transformed into fearless warriors, simply by hearing he was coming.

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