I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 137

Chapter 137: Prefer Not to Know the Truth

"Then what should I do, General?" Charles retorted. "I don't want my tank to fail either, but the fact is, it doesn't stand a chance of winning!"

Gallieni was momentarily stunned, then realized that this was beyond Charles' control.

However, Gallieni still felt that inaction wasn't an option. "You can try to stop it!"

"How?" Charles softly countered before adding, "If they trusted me, there wouldn't have been the development of two other tank models in the first place. They created those tanks specifically to beat mine, yet you're asking me to convince them to trust me and abandon those models!"

Gallieni was left speechless. Charles was stating the truth: persuading rivals to abandon their research and competition with mere words was impossible. That would only lead to mockery and accusations of ulterior motives.

Frowning, Gallieni paced back and forth in the room, then stopped abruptly. "Tell me the issues with their tanks. I’ll apply the pressure myself!"

Charles shook his head. "It's useless, General. They've already branded you as being on my side. Whatever you say will be dismissed as 'self-serving'!"

"We must try!" Gallieni insisted. "This concerns the outcome of a battle and the countless lives of soldiers!"

Charles could only reply, "I don't know their tank specifications. I have no way of identifying their weaknesses..."

This was untrue. Charles didn't need the data to know the weaknesses of the opposing tanks, but that information came from the future—something he could never reveal.

"Then tell me what you do know!" Gallieni interrupted.

"The artillery, General!" Charles answered. "Mounting artillery on a tank isn't as simple as it seems. Weight, accuracy, exhaust—all of these remain unresolved issues, creating a host of fatal weaknesses!"

Decades later, Germany's World War II-era Panzer I was still armed with only two machine guns, relying on a 100-horsepower engine to carry two men in a 5.4-ton vehicle.

In contrast, the Saint-Chamond's engine was only 90 horsepower, yet it was tasked with supporting a 75mm cannon, four machine guns, and nine crew members, with a combat weight of a staggering 27 tons.

Gallieni reflected and found this reasoning convincing. If mounting artillery on tanks were so easy, why hadn't Charles done it himself? Could he be a fool?

Then, it dawned on him: others were overreaching, chasing impressive surface-level specifications and heavy armament but neglecting overall performance.

Though Charles’ tanks lacked artillery, this was precisely why they were rational, practical, and ready for actual combat.

There was no question about it. Charles knew this, as evidenced by the numerous victories he had achieved on the battlefield.

Gallieni sighed quietly and sank back into his chair. He now understood the dilemma Charles faced.

This was the greed of capitalists.

They pursued profit and wealth at any cost, and no one could stop them.
But tragically, it was the soldiers on the frontlines who would pay the price.

...

When the actual bidding session arrived, the results left Gallieni dumbfounded. He saw the specifications for the two tanks:

Saint-Chamond: 90 horsepower, one long-barreled 75mm cannon, four machine guns, nine crew members, combat weight of 27 tons, a top speed of 8.5 km/h.

CA-1: 61 horsepower, one short-barreled 75mm cannon, two machine guns, six crew members, combat weight of 14 tons, a top speed of 5 km/h.

Had Charles not warned him, Gallieni might have been like everyone else, wishing for tanks to be as heavily armed as possible. Now, he knew better—this would only spell disaster.

Yet, everyone else seemed to have lost their minds. Even the soldiers participating in the tests believed that such tanks were necessary and capable of ensuring their victory.

Members of Parliament were locked in heated debate, with both sides relentlessly attacking one another while comparing and analyzing every specification.

The final outcome? Orders were placed for 400 units of each model at unit prices of 21,000 francs and 12,000 francs, respectively.

Uncharacteristically, Gallieni remained silent from start to finish. He knew that nothing he said would make a difference.

Inwardly, however, he cried out, "God, this is over 13 million francs! So much money spent on machines destined to lose battles and cost soldiers their lives. This is madness!"

Yet, all he could do was watch helplessly as events unfolded.

At this moment, Gallieni even wished Charles hadn't told him the truth.

...

In stark contrast to Gallieni’s despair, the atmosphere at the Braid Estate was one of jubilation.

Crystal-clear champagne glasses clinked together, producing crisp, cheerful tones.

Armand raised his glass in excitement and shouted, "To Colonel Estigny! And to his tanks!"

The others followed suit, cheering, "To Colonel Estigny!"

For the right-wing, there were no regrets. Securing a share of the contract from under Schneider’s dominance was an unprecedented victory. Previously, these opportunities were always out of their reach, and they could only watch as the left-wing pocketed every order.

This was not just about money; it marked the resurgence of the right-wing and its renewed influence over the military.

Colonel Estigny, however, was far from pleased. He grumbled, "The Saint-Chamond is no tank at all. At best, it’s a gun platform, yet it’s selling for more than ours!"

Others muttered vague agreements or responded with polite laughter and nods.

"A proper tank should be able to break through enemy defenses!" Colonel Estigny continued. "At the very least, it should be able to cut through barbed wire, cross trenches with the help of infantry, and lead the charge to outflank the enemy. The Saint-Chamond can’t do any of that!"

The crowd nodded in agreement, though none voiced any opinions. Most didn’t even understand what Estigny was talking about.

Colonel Estigny turned to Francis. "Sir, what do you think?"

"That’s Schneider, Colonel!" Francis replied. "You should feel proud!"

Grevy added, "The Saint-Chamond’s electric drive system can propel its massive weight of over 20 tons at 8.5 km/h, while our tank, despite being lighter, only reaches 5 km/h. We can’t compare with that!"

"Don’t be discouraged, Colonel!" Grevy said, raising his glass to Estigny. "One day, we’ll surpass it!"

The crowd echoed their support.

Colonel Estigny returned the toast, but his disappointment was evident.

What he truly wanted was a discussion about how tanks should fight on the battlefield and their role in the military.

Instead, the conversation revolved around money and interests, with awe and envy directed toward the flawed design of the Saint-Chamond.

These people didn’t understand tanks. They weren’t his kind of people, and they would never speak the same language as him.

Was this really what he needed?

Colonel Estigny thought of Charles... Perhaps Charles was the ally he had been searching for.

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