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

Chapter 119: Charles is Out of His League

3 p.m., Palais Bourbon, Paris. General Gallieni stood on the podium, responding to urgent questions from the House of Representatives.

The reason for the inquiry was Gallieni's recent decision to include a massive amount of equipment in the wartime procurement orders: 100 aircraft and 500 tractors, amounting to a total expenditure of 2.2 million francs.

"General Gallieni!" a representative questioned, "The front lines are engaged in fierce combat. At this moment, do we not need rifles, artillery, and ammunition? Why, then, are you spending such a fortune on almost useless planes and tractors?"

The floor erupted with supportive shouts from other representatives:

"Yes, we need rifles and artillery! We need to arm more soldiers!"

"What can planes do? Shoot down a few enemy balloons? They won't kill many enemies!"

"And what will tractors do? Plow fields? And yet you're buying 500 of them!"

Gallieni remained calm as he answered, "You're right, sir. The soldiers at the front need weapons and ammunition. But the crucial question is: how will we get those weapons and ammunition to them?"

"What do you mean?" interrupted Steed, the owner of the Saint-Étienne Armory. "Don't we already have trains, trucks, and horses? Are you suggesting we need planes and tractors to deliver supplies to the front?"

Steed turned to the representatives behind him, raising his voice, "Would any of you buy a tractor just to transport goods?"

The room filled with laughter. The notion that tractors were only suitable for fieldwork seemed absurd. Still, some couldn't help but remember the tanks derived from tractors—but chose to remain silent.

Gallieni motioned for silence. "Gentlemen, have any of you been to Ypres?"

A few hands went up.

Gallieni gestured to them, "Please, gentlemen, share your impressions of Ypres."

One by one, the representatives responded:

"The area is mostly flat and near the sea, quite damp."

"Yes, there's water everywhere. It's like a swamp!"

"Transportation is a nightmare. When it rains, trucks get stuck—they can barely move before sinking into the mud!"

Gallieni nodded and turned back to Steed. "Mr. Steed, did you hear that?"

He addressed the entire chamber. "The terrain at Ypres means only tractors can move in and out! Only tractors can pull in artillery, and only tractors can bring bread, ammunition, and other supplies to the soldiers there. Yet, you oppose my purchase?"

The room fell silent. Steed, defeated, sat down with a sour look.

It was Steed who had initiated this inquiry, still bitter over Gallieni's decision to replace the Saint-Étienne machine gun with the Hotchkiss, rendering the Saint-Étienne stockpile nearly worthless.

Then Jamison stood up. "And the planes, General? What purpose do they serve? We already have enough planes. Soldiers need artillery more than they need planes, yet you haven't increased artillery orders."

The representatives chimed in, shouting:

"Yes, the soldiers need artillery!"

"Artillery will bring us victory!"

"Planes offer limited support. Let's invest where it counts!"

Jamison, owner of the Schneider Armaments Factory, was naturally eager for Gallieni to increase artillery orders.

Gallieni sneered. "Is that so? You think only artillery will secure victory, and that planes are of limited value?"

"Isn't that common knowledge?" Jamison argued, "You might claim that a plane downed a Zeppelin and destroyed a 'Big Bertha' gun over Antwerp, but what if the Germans don't send any Zeppelins? And the destruction of the 'Big Bertha' was a lucky shot."

He added, "In fact, even your decision to buy tractors was to haul artillery and shells to the front, wasn't it? So, clearly, we need more artillery!"

Gallieni scoffed. "Then let's wait and see, Mr. Jamison."

"You won't brush this off with a simple 'wait and see,' General," Jamison retorted confidently. "Everyone is waiting for your explanation!"

Jamison was convinced Gallieni was stalling, but the gallery of representatives thought so too, joining in with a chorus of boos and hisses.

Unfazed, Gallieni took out his pocket watch, flicked it open, checked the time, and then replaced it, assuredly. "Almost time, gentlemen. Perhaps just a few more minutes. I promise, you won't be kept waiting long."

Grevy and Armand, seated below, observed in silence. This dispute had little to do with them as traditional aristocrats, viewing it more as a clash between left-wing capitalists over who would profit from military contracts.

Armand turned to Grevy. "Will Francis make a fortune from this? Five hundred tractors—and they might buy more."

Grevy interrupted, "He's already sold off his entire stock for 900 francs each."

"What?" Armand looked shocked, then burst into laughter. "Seems his luck is lacking."

"You think it's luck?" Grevy chuckled and shook his head.

"What else?" Armand asked.

Grevy didn't answer directly. Instead, he smiled knowingly. Armand's eyes widened as he guessed the truth. "The buyer… was it Charles?"

Grevy gave a slight nod. "I wasn't certain before, but now it's almost a given."

Armand whistled. "Smart little fellow! Perhaps he even suggested to the military to buy the tractors."

"Undoubtedly," Grevy replied, his gaze fixed on Gallieni on stage. "Charles knows exactly what the army needs. All he has to do is purchase it in advance, suggest it to the military, and profit handsomely once the recommendation is made. Could anything be easier?"

"And he's not concerned about all this backlash?" Armand gestured around at the vocal protests from the representatives.

Grevy shrugged. "As long as these items prove useful on the battlefield—especially if they bring victory—no one can question him."

Armand nodded in agreement. Victory would validate everything. Criticizing a winning strategy would only invite accusations of treason.

But as for the planes...

Armand couldn't help but wonder if they were only meant for taking down balloons. If so, that might not be enough to silence the critics.

Meanwhile, the left-wing representatives had grown impatient, and their questions had turned into heated insults:

"Get off the stage! We know what's going on here!"

"This procurement is unreasonable, and we'll ensure it's stricken from the wartime budget!"

"You'll be held accountable, and anyone who profits from this purchase will face consequences!"

Some even started throwing paper balls onto the stage. Still, Gallieni remained stoic, ignoring the flying paper and watching them fall to the ground.

Just then, Colonel Fernand burst in, running down the aisle to Gallieni, his face flushed with excitement. He handed Gallieni a telegram.

Gallieni read it and broke into a victorious smile. "Gentlemen, I have some good news."

He paused for effect, then announced, "Just now, under Lieutenant Charles's command, our squadron in Ypres shot down thirteen enemy aircraft!"

"And with zero losses on our side!"

The chamber fell silent. Thirteen downed aircraft—and not just destroyed, but shot down—with no losses. How could this be?

A trick? Falsified achievements?

No, such a bold lie would be easily exposed. Gallieni would never risk it.

That left only one possibility: Charles.

The hall buzzed as people speculated on what new invention Charles might have introduced this time.

Grevy's expression grew somber. He realized Charles might have risen to a level that he could only look up to. Charles, he understood now, was someone he might never be able to defeat.

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