I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 236

Chapter 236: The Last-Day Revelry

The front at Ypres was already in full swing.

They had lit rows of candles at the edge of the trenches, cleverly using entrenching tools to block the wind. Under the flickering candlelight, some were playing the accordion, and a large crowd of soldiers had gathered around—British, French, and German alike.

To the tune of the accordion, they sang popular Christmas songs from their respective countries. Those who couldn’t remember the lyrics simply hummed along to the rhythm, singing and dancing, even sharing the wine they had kept hidden in their coats.

In the no-man’s-land between the positions, on a relatively flat patch of ground, the soldiers had marked out a soccer field. They used torches as boundary lines, barbed wire to form goals, and a bundle of straw as the ball. The two teams of players joyfully sprinted across the field, vying for control of the makeshift ball.

Captain Claude was the referee on the field. The whistle he usually used to signal an attack had perfectly transitioned into a referee's whistle for the soccer match. He had even made yellow and red cards from paint.

As he watched the “players” sprinting at full speed and the “spectators” cheering from the sidelines, Captain Claude felt a pang of bitterness.

He understood that this joy was nothing more than a “last-day revelry.”

“Perhaps we’ll die tomorrow in fear and helplessness. Why not just die of exhaustion now? This might be a kind of happiness!”

This may have reflected the inner thoughts of everyone present.

Why had fate pushed them to this point?

At that moment, Lieutenant Denis jogged over to Captain Claude, calling out to him. He whispered something in his ear.

Captain Claude’s expression changed, and he motioned to the guard not far away. “Barret, take over for me!”

Barret stepped forward and took the whistle from Captain Claude’s hand.

...

Captain Claude hurried into the command tunnel, where he shook hands with a thin soldier and asked expressionlessly, “Is what you said true? Are they planning to carry out the selection order?”

“Yes!” The soldier nodded. “The order has already been sent to Dunkirk. They need some time to discuss the matter with the British, since the British forces are involved as well. It has to be coordinated simultaneously to be effective.”

The soldier then nervously suggested, “Captain, we should resume the fighting…”

Captain Claude gently shook his head, cutting the soldier off. His tone was laced with sarcasm. “If we resume fighting, how many will die in two days?”

Everyone fell silent.

Based on the previous casualty rates, at least dozens would perish in just two days.

Meanwhile, the selection order might only claim the lives of a few dozen.

In terms of numbers, it seemed like the more economical choice, and Captain Claude would naturally choose the selection order.

Lieutenant Denis became anxious. “But, Captain, the selection order is a disgrace to the soldiers. We’ll lose everything…”

Captain Claude understood it all too well. “Does any of this matter to a dead man?”

“But who should we choose?” Lieutenant Denis asked.

The most brutal part of the selection order was that the soldiers themselves had to choose those who would be executed.

“Count me in,” Captain Claude replied calmly.

Everyone was stunned. This was no honorable matter, but the Captain, as always, was willing to lead from the front.

Just then, a messenger ran into the tunnel, excitedly reporting, “Captain, do you know who’s arrived?”

“Who?” Lieutenant Denis asked, his eyes flashing with a hint of panic. Had the infantry gendarmerie arrived?

The others in the tunnel exchanged wary looks, while Captain Claude silently took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

It seemed as though he had issued himself a death warrant and cared about nothing anymore—just a few days earlier to die.

“It’s Charles! Charles has come!” The messenger exclaimed. “Can you believe it? Charles is here to inspect us, and I hear he’s bringing us turkeys!”

There was a brief moment of surprise in the tunnel, but no one spoke. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing: Could they have sent Charles to carry out the selection order?

“What’s wrong with you all?” The messenger asked in confusion.

“Nothing,” Captain Claude answered expressionlessly. “Where is he? Take me to see him!”

“Yes, Captain!” The messenger replied eagerly.

...

Before arriving, Charles had done two things:
First, he had instructed Djoka to acquire the roasted turkeys and arranged for transportation to deliver them in batches to Ypres.

Second, he had contacted General Winter in Dunkirk to delay the infantry gendarmerie, who were preparing to head toward Ypres.

General Winter’s delay had been very successful, and his reasoning was sound. “The British army is also involved in the armistice. If we don’t take coordinated action, the effect might not be apparent. Moreover, Ypres, though part of the Allied defense line, is on Belgian territory. Shouldn’t we ask King Albert I for his opinion?”

This turned the matter from a French issue into an international one involving the British and Belgians, making negotiations unlikely to be quick.

Additionally, due to the unclear situation during the night and concerns about mutiny, the infantry gendarmerie decided to take action the following morning after consulting the general headquarters.

Charles arrived in Ypres just after 5 a.m. He had not notified anyone on the front ahead of time, and he was only accompanied by a guard unit.

Charles knew that if the frontlines were informed of his visit, it would be dangerous.

The German military would be overjoyed. The front was undefended, with soldiers from both sides walking freely through enemy trenches. What would they do if Charles came to inspect the front?

All they would need was a few assassins to sneak into the front and wait. Once they saw Charles, they could easily shoot him, and not only would they kill him, but they would also be able to resume the war…

Gallieni was well aware of this, so he issued a strict order that no one who knew about Charles’s arrival was allowed to leave the command post, and all telephones and telegrams were under strict control.

...

When Charles, accompanied by Laurent and a squad of guards, appeared at the Ypres front, none of the soldiers coming and going recognized him. They even regarded this group of “uninvited guests” with suspicion.

Charles walked along the communication trench, reaching the frontlines. When they passed a resting area, he saw a group of soldiers gathered around the accordion, singing and dancing under the candlelight. Among them were German and French soldiers, with rifles casually left aside and even mixed together.

A drunken German officer approached Charles, inviting him into the “dance floor.” Laurent instinctively lunged forward, pushing the officer to the ground, pulling out his revolver and pointing it at the German officer.

Other guards quickly surrounded Charles, raising their rifles to shield him.

“Hey, take it easy!” A French soldier in the crowd stepped forward. “Merry Christmas, gentlemen. You must be new here. It’s a truce now, understand? A truce!”

Charles stepped forward and ordered Laurent and the guards to lower their guns.

The French soldier looked at Charles with disbelief, studying him from head to toe. “Hey, Colonel, you look just like Charles! I saw him in Paris once. God, it’s like looking at him in the flesh!”

Charles said nothing, only silently staring at the messenger.

Suddenly, the accordion’s music stopped, and the noisy singing and dancing fell silent. The air seemed to freeze, and everyone’s gaze was now fixed on Charles, including the German officers.

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