I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 160

Chapter 160: You Are Free

“Dada dada!”

...

An "Avro" swooped down from the rainstorm with a shriek. The machine gun bullets hit the waterlogged fields, sending two streaks of water straight toward the highway. Where they intersected, blood from several German soldiers splashed up before the plane quickly climbed again.

It seemed the pilot had misjudged the timing, and this burst of fire only caused a slight ripple in the German ranks.

The German artillerymen shouted as they jumped off their vehicles. They raised their rifles to the sky, firing in an attempt to cover the retreat of their convoy. But these sporadic shots barely affected the plane.

It was incredibly difficult to hit a target moving rapidly through three-dimensional space with a rifle, and even if a bullet did strike, the damage would be minimal unless it happened to hit the pilot or engine.

Soon after, another plane dove down. This one appeared to have learned from the previous one, adjusting its angle in mid-air to follow the road as it dived again.

“Dada dada!”

...

Bullets tore through the air, turning the scene into a bloody chaos. Horses neighed in panic as men screamed. Most notably, a horse-drawn carriage at the front of the line lost control after one of the horses was hit, causing it to veer wildly and overturn, blocking the entire road with its artillery.

This left the convoy, which could still have moved before, stalled in place. Colonel Miller, who had hoped to escape this "death trap," helplessly looked back at another plane swooping down, his face resigned to the fate that seemed unavoidable.

...

Khalil received news that the artillery had been attacked by enemy planes.

At this point, it seemed that Wolf had come to believe Khalil’s predictions. Every move of the enemy seemed to align with what Khalil had said.

Wolf swallowed hard and suggested, "Colonel, we should ask the general for permission to retreat. If he realizes this, I believe—"

Khalil shook his head wearily. "It's useless, Wolf. It's too late!"

“What?” Wolf stared at Khalil, shocked. “No, we still have time!”

Khalil stood up and placed the map on the table in front of Wolf, his voice heavy with despair. “We are infantry, Wolf, all deployed on the front line, about thirteen kilometers from the rear. Even if we fight and retreat, how long do you think it would take to break out of the encirclement?”

The retreat of the troops wasn’t like a simple walk—they had to organize themselves, covering each other and retreating alternately.

Even if a unit stayed behind to cover the retreat, it would take over two hours to travel those thirteen kilometers, and that’s assuming they were lightly equipped.

By then, they would face enemy tanks, tricycles, and machine guns. Even if they had several times the enemy's numbers, what difference would it make?

Breakout? Don’t be ridiculous!

Once the artillery had been trapped by enemy planes on the highway, Khalil knew it was impossible.

It would be a senseless slaughter!

Wolf still refused to give up. “We could attack from both sides. If General Waldeck sends reinforcements from the other side…”

“Wolf!” Khalil interrupted him, tapping a point on the map where their defensive line was marked. He reminded him, "All of our forces are on the front line. There are no troops in the rear, none at all!”

Wolf was stunned.

Khalil was right. During the "March to the Sea," both the enemy and their forces had filled every inch of the three-hundred-plus kilometers of defensive line with their troops, even sending untrained new recruits to the front.

Behind the defense line, there were only warehouses, hospitals, wounded soldiers, and supply convoys. Even if General Waldeck agreed to a pincer attack, there were no troops to send!

So, what could they do?

...

Arloni Town, a small town in France with a population of just over five hundred, had always been considered of little strategic importance, surrounded by flat plains.

But today, it was different. Its location was directly behind the Lafox area. If it were captured, it would complete the encirclement of the Lafox region.

It was afternoon, and the sky was raining, with planes roaring overhead. The sounds of artillery and gunfire occasionally rang out from the western front. The residents had to stay inside or even hide in their basements.

Some of the braver ones, unable to resist, came outside for a breath of fresh air. From their windows, across the road, they greeted each other:

"Is everything alright, Mr. Samuel?"

"Yes, very well, Mr. Lanussi!" Samuel responded politely.

But it wasn’t true. Samuel sighed inwardly and fell silent.

Last night, a few Germans had broken into his house. They didn’t know how, but they had learned he was the mayor of this small town.

"If you are the mayor, then this will be simple!" a German lieutenant said with a smile, looking at Samuel. "As you know, the soldiers on the front line are fighting to protect the town, but they lack supplies. I hope you can provide some of the necessary supplies!"

The image of the German lieutenant’s face flashed in Samuel's mind again. He looked harmless, as if speaking to his own countrymen, but his right hand rested on a holster, ready to draw a pistol and shoot Samuel at any moment.

Samuel couldn't help but mutter, “These bastards, they occupy our land and still want us to feed them!”

But what could he do?

Samuel didn’t know how to explain this to the townspeople. They would think he was a German spy, maybe even burn his house down in anger!

As he pondered, he saw several tricycles emerging from the rainstorm at the end of the road, the faint sound of engines approaching.

Samuel's heart tightened. He thought it was the Germans, coming to urge him to hand over the food.

"Damn Germans! They should be hanged! These shameful invaders!" Samuel cursed, wondering what excuse he could use to handle the situation.

The tricycles came closer, and the red insignia on the soldiers’ military caps and pants became increasingly clear. Samuel rubbed his eyes but still couldn’t believe it.

French soldiers?

The tricycles zoomed past him, and the French soldiers on them waved at him in fluent French:

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Nice to see you! You’re free now!”

“This is France again!”

...

Samuel slowly opened the door and stepped outside, despite the rain still falling.

Then he saw them—the French soldiers, many of them, riding their tricycles in groups, passing by in front of him. One even brought a massive iron monster, its tracks making a loud clattering sound. On top of it were several French soldiers waving at him.

Samuel blinked, then asked, "Hey, are you French soldiers?"

The soldiers burst into laughter:

"Can’t tell?"

"Who else would we be?"

"We’re Charles’s army. Have you heard of him? Charles!"

...

Samuel finally understood. He shouted excitedly, "I know him! Charles, he saved France!"

"Yes, that's him!" the soldiers shouted in reply.

Samuel ran off, knocking on doors as he went, shouting, "It’s our people, our army! Charles brought them here! We’re free! We’re free!"

The residents woke up, from the young to the old, and they rushed outside, cheering as they welcomed the soldiers. Some even stepped forward to hold umbrellas over the soaking wet soldiers, even though it was completely unnecessary.

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