I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 143

Chapter 143: The Press Conference

Joffre had lunch punctually at 11:30 AM. His meal consisted of a steak, two fried eggs, some broccoli, and purple carrots. He believed that maintaining a balanced diet of meat and vegetables was a habit worth keeping.

After lunch, he took some time to relax with coffee and a newspaper, his usual way of unwinding whenever major events were on the horizon, even if the newspapers were ones he had already read.

Before long, the clock on the wall struck once—1:30 PM. At that moment, Carnes pushed open the door and reported, “General, all the tanks are in position!”

Joffre was slightly surprised. “Ahead of schedule?”

“Yes!” Carnes replied. “The trains miraculously didn’t run late!”

“That may be a good omen, Carnes,” Joffre said with a smile. “Are the reporters here?”

“Yes, they’re all in the reception hall!” Carnes bent down slightly and asked, “Do you wish to speak with them now?”

“No,” Joffre shook his head. “Let them wait a little longer.”

Joffre understood that during this waiting period, the reporters would start spreading “speculations” through various channels, which would in turn generate more public anticipation and attention.

...

Colonel Christine stood in the rain, fully armed and clad in a raincoat, with his subordinates beside him. They watched as one tank after another rolled by and, under the guidance of ground crews, came to a halt in front of the barracks.

With their thick armor, massive frames, dark muzzles, and protruding barrels, the tanks resembled monstrous steel beasts.

The soldiers’ eyes gleamed with excitement and awe. Though they remained in formation, their gazes constantly flickered toward the imposing tanks.

Christine sensed something was off. The soldiers seemed to have developed an illusion: “This will be an easy victory.”

Clearing his throat, Christine stepped to the front of the formation, straightened his chest, and warned in a deep voice:

“Pay attention! Don’t be fooled by what you see. Wars are fought by people, not equipment!”

“Never let your guard down! The battlefield is still the battlefield, and it will always punish those who underestimate it.”

The soldiers responded in unison: “Yes, sir!”

Scanning the soldiers, Christine noticed that while they replied obediently, their expressions remained indifferent.

With a sigh, he could only lament silently: Let’s hope this battle is indeed as easy as they think it will be.

After being dismissed, the soldiers swarmed toward the tanks, their curiosity leading them to inspect every detail. Some even struck up conversations with the tank crews, using the opportunity to climb inside and “admire” the interiors.

Christine walked slowly through the rain toward the tanks. They were uniformly painted olive green—not the dark gray used on battlefield equipment, but rather the industrial paint commonly seen on factory machinery.

When he reached out to touch one, he found the paint still slightly tacky and viscous.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that these tanks had been rushed through production in a short time.

Christine’s sense of unease deepened. Could these really handle the task?

...

“There will be no issues!”

In the reception hall, Joffre, dressed impeccably in his military uniform, stood poised under the reporters’ flashing cameras. He exuded calmness and confidence.

“Gentlemen, I ask you to imagine this.”

“During the Battle of the Marne, the tanks we used were little more than steel plates mounted with machine guns—mind you, just a single Hotchkiss machine gun.”

“Yet those tanks managed to rout German forces many times their size, sending them fleeing in all directions!”

“Now, these new tanks we’ve developed are armed with cannons and additional machine guns. Their firepower is incomparable to the tanks of the past!”

Just then, a series of loud explosions echoed from outside. The reporters gasped and turned their attention to the windows.

Remaining unflustered, Joffre remarked, “That’s just the preparatory artillery fire, gentlemen. In a few minutes, our First Special Artillery Regiment will launch its assault. Everything is proceeding as planned.”

...

“Boom! Boom!”

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

...

The artillery fire churned up clouds of smoke amidst the rain, the moisture instantly vaporized by the intense heat of the explosions, making them appear even more violent than usual. Huge, cotton-like plumes of smoke rolled across the enemy’s defensive line, further obscuring an already murky view.

According to the plan, the bombardment was to last ten minutes.

But at the eight-minute mark, Colonel Christine blew the whistle for the attack to begin.

It wasn’t impatience that drove him; rather, he knew this would give the troops an extra two minutes of advancement.

If they could push these cumbersome machines closer to the enemy’s defensive line, they would gain a significant advantage, or so Christine believed. Their firepower would be able to suppress the enemy face-to-face.

A series of sharp whistles echoed through the rain as the tanks rumbled into motion. Soldiers, clutching their rifles, hunched over and followed closely around the tanks.

Christine quickly noticed a problem: some infantrymen weren’t aware they were blocking the tanks’ machine guns.

“Stay clear of the tanks!” Colonel Christine shouted.

But his warning was in vain. As soon as one soldier was pulled aside, another would inadvertently step into the same position—some even stood directly in front of the tanks’ treads!

...

“We will break through the enemy’s defenses methodically,” Joffre declared, picking up his pointer. An aide immediately activated the projector, displaying a black-and-white slide of a CA-1 tank on the backdrop behind Joffre.

“Gentlemen,” Joffre began as he strode forward. The interplay of black-and-white light cast an almost eerie effect on him.

“Allow me to introduce our vanguard tank, the CA-1.”

“It was designed by one of our artillery colonels. Pay attention to its head.”

Joffre pointed toward the front of the tank.

“These sharp noses and deflectors will slice through enemy barbed wire like blades, clearing the first obstacle in its path!”

...

On the battlefield, Christine stared in shock as several CA-1 tanks at the forefront were immobilized in shell craters. One tank was even emitting blue smoke, its engine seemingly burned out from overuse.

Suddenly, the sharp whistling of artillery shells filled the air. Christine instantly realized it was enemy counterfire.

“Get down!” Christine shouted, diving headfirst into a nearby shell crater filled with filthy water.

The lower the position, the higher the chance of survival. Nobody cared what was in the puddle.

“Boom! Boom!”

...

After the barrage, Colonel Christine cautiously poked his head out, only to be stunned by the scene before him. The CA-1 tanks lay in ruins. Some were ablaze, others flipped over, and still others had been reduced to scattered fragments.

Many tanks, though seemingly intact, had armor riddled with shrapnel holes.

There was no need to guess—the tank crews inside must have been reduced to mangled remains.

“What could these possibly shield us from?” Colonel Christine exclaimed in disbelief. “This is what they call an easy victory?”

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