I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 234

Chapter 234: The 48-Hour Ceasefire

In the town of Davaus, every household had lights on, and the Christmas trees, adorned with colorful lights, were constantly changing hues. Laughter and joy echoed from the houses.

The same was true for the Charle family. Charles had received an extraordinarily special gift: a horse.

It was a real horse. Djoka and Camille had been preparing for this day for half a month. They had bought Daniel, their neighbor's, storage room and transformed it into a stable, even hiring Mrs. Daniel for 30 francs per month to care for the horse.

In the afternoon, Charles had seen the horse. It was a snow-white beauty, strong and healthy. The sound of its hooves striking the ground was crisp and pleasant. Djoka had outfitted it with a very beautiful set of new, gleaming horse tack. Charles had even tried riding it, circling around a few times.

Charles understood Djoka and Camille’s intentions.

After this Christmas, Charles would be an adult, and he might have to go to the battlefield.

However, Charles still hadn’t learned how to ride a horse, which would be a big problem for a commander. What if his troops were trapped and there was a horse nearby, but Charles couldn't ride?

Charles really wanted to tell them that, in an age of automobiles, motorcycles, tricycles, and even airplanes, riding a horse to escape was often more dangerous than walking, especially if the rider was a military officer.

But Charles didn’t say this, because it would go against their good intentions.

At that moment, the Charle family was enjoying their Christmas dinner: roasted turkey, fatty foie gras, creamy cakes, smoked fish... It was a delicious and hearty meal, though Charles couldn’t fully enjoy the turkey.

It wasn’t because Camille’s cooking was bad; rather, the meat was tough and chewy, making it hard to bite. Charles thought turkey was just not suited for roasting.

“This has been a magical year,” Djoka said, looking quite pleased. He had drunk a few more glasses and, slightly tipsy, he remarked, “A few months ago, Charles was still in high school. Now look at him…”

Djoka raised his glass and gestured toward Charles: “He’s already a colonel, a hero—everything feels like a dream!”

Camille gave Charles a proud glance, raised her glass, and said, “To Charles!”

“To Charles!” Djoka responded, clinking his glass with hers and both of them drank it all.

Charles looked at the wine glasses still filled with wine on the table. It seemed like they had forgotten about him.

Just then, the sound of car brakes came from outside. Djoka and Camille’s expressions changed. From the sound, they could tell it was Laurent, and when Laurent showed up at this time, it probably wasn’t for a good reason.

Camille frowned and muttered, “They wouldn’t be asking for Charles now, would they…”

Djoka shot Camille a look to silence her, then stood up and opened the door before Laurent could knock.

Laurent rushed in, quickly nodding an apology to Djoka and Camille, and his anxious gaze finally settled on Charles: “Urgent situation, Colonel. The general wants you to return to headquarters immediately!”

Charles felt confused. Was the German offensive starting?

At this time?

It wasn’t until Charles was in the car that he realized he had guessed completely wrong. It wasn’t the Germans or the French launching an attack.

It was a ceasefire—there was a ceasefire along the entire front line!

…

At the Paris City Defense Command, the command center was completely quiet.

This wasn’t because they were lazy, but because there was nothing to do. They hadn’t received a telegram from the front line for several hours.

When they did, it was a perfunctory “everything is normal.”

Gallieni was unfazed, leisurely sipping his coffee. When he saw Charles walking up the stairs, he put down his cup and said, “Sorry to call you here, Colonel, but this matter concerns The Meritorious Report.”

“I heard there’s a ceasefire?” Charles asked.

“Yes,” Gallieni nodded. “We’re not sure where it started, but it spread like an epidemic along the entire front. For hundreds of kilometers, there is no sound of gunfire or artillery. The couriers are unwilling to report what’s happening. Some even answer, ‘Radio malfunction.’ We’ve lost all command and communication with the front.”

Charles glanced over at Kobdo, who was buried in a pile of newspapers at his desk.

The meaning was clear—he feared that Kobdo might have called for a ceasefire in the paper, which would be a serious issue.

“No, Colonel,” Kobdo stood up and said. “Don’t worry. I’ve checked the newspapers from the past ten days. There’s nothing about it.”

Charles nodded, feeling somewhat relieved.

“You misunderstood, Colonel!” Gallieni tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. “It’s the general’s dissatisfaction with the current situation. He is furious. We received intelligence suggesting that an unofficial agreement might have been reached on the front. The soldiers are planning to ceasefire for 48 hours.”

Charles found this very interesting. He even thought that perhaps the governments of both sides could take this opportunity to sit down and negotiate, to discuss why they were fighting the war in the first place, or whether a ceasefire was possible.

For example: the Germans could retreat to their own country, and the British and French would not hold them accountable afterward.

If World War I ended like this, it would certainly be much better than the eventual death of millions.

But clearly, that was impossible.

Although both sides’ soldiers were unwilling to fight, the higher-ups who wouldn’t have to sacrifice their lives or fight thought differently. They all believed they could defeat their enemies and gain immense benefits.

“The general thinks it’s time for The Meritorious Report to step in,” Gallieni looked at Charles, his expression somewhat complicated. “He wants you to use the paper to speak out and have them revoke this absurd ceasefire agreement!”

Without hesitation, Charles refused, “No, I won’t do that!”

Gallieni appeared somewhat helpless, his tone becoming firmer: “That’s an order, Colonel.”

“General…” Kobdo jumped up. “This won’t help at all. It will only ruin The Meritorious Report.”

Kobdo continued, “The Meritorious Report is a newspaper that should always stand with the soldiers. Only in this way can it earn their trust and acceptance of its propaganda. If we use it as a tool for the military, blatantly issuing orders to the front-line soldiers, they will quickly resist the paper, and it will have no meaning. It will just be a piece of paper.”

Gallieni nodded slightly in agreement.

It seemed that he understood the real intent behind the general’s order—to take advantage of this moment to strike The Meritorious Report and even Charles.

If Charles spoke out calling for the soldiers to fight, the soldiers would soon turn against him as well.

But it was still an order…

As Gallieni pondered this dilemma, Charles spoke up.

“I have a different idea, General,” Charles replied calmly. “I’m very willing to carry out the general’s orders, but I think… the person who should speak is the general himself. After all, he is the commander-in-chief of France. If he can’t rally the soldiers to fight, who else has the ability to do so?”

Gallieni’s eyes lit up, and he knew exactly how to answer Joffre now.

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