I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 122

Chapter 122: Shooting Down the Enemy's Aircraft?

A light drizzle once again fell over Ypres. Though these fine, misty raindrops seemed insignificant, they were omnipresent and inescapable, gnawing away at the patience of General von Cross, commander of the German 6th Army.

The Ypres plain stretched out endlessly; one could almost see its edge without a telescope.

But this was an illusion. When using a telescope, one would discover that visibility extended no farther—the true obstacle was not distance but the rain and mist.

“How much time do we have left?” Cross asked his adjutant in a low voice.

The adjutant replied, “I’m not certain, General! But it’s certain they’ll arrive by morning!”

This was almost tantamount to saying that Cross had to launch an offensive before nightfall; otherwise, he could only watch helplessly as enemy reinforcements arrived.

Even though the Germans currently enjoyed a 2-to-1 numerical advantage, with superior training and equipment compared to their opponents, Cross maintained a cautious demeanor.

The reason? The enemy controlled the Nieuport sluices. If the Belgians became desperate and opened them, seawater would flood the open terrain, transforming it into an impassable swamp.

As Cross hesitated, a sudden burst of cheers erupted from the Belgian lines. Puzzled, Cross raised his telescope and saw some figures on the other side waving their rifles in celebration.

His face darkened, and he ordered his adjutant: “Scout the situation! Find out which reinforcements have arrived, where they are, and their strength!”

“Yes, General!” The adjutant responded promptly and went to make arrangements.

The reconnaissance team would be accompanied by artillery, launching a small-scale attack to capture Belgian prisoners who could quickly reveal what was happening.

Sure enough, half an hour later, Cross received a report: “General, they say Charles is coming to Ypres!”

Cross, who had been studying the map in deep thought, was startled by this intelligence. He jerked his head up to look at the adjutant. “Charles? The Charles of Antwerp?”

Charles had become a well-known figure to the Germans after his actions in Antwerp, especially his role in destroying zeppelins and the "Big Bertha" guns with aircraft and artillery—a story etched deeply into their minds. Cross had, of course, heard of him.

“Yes!” The adjutant nodded. “That’s why the Belgian army’s morale is soaring. They say their king has even abandoned the idea of opening the sluices because he believes Charles can hold off our attack!”

Cross let out a faint “Hmm.” This might actually be good news. At least for now, he could launch an offensive without worrying about being trapped in the middle ground.

With this in mind, Cross immediately issued an order: “Instruct the 27th Reserve Corps to prepare for an offensive. The breakthrough point will be the left flank of Polygon Wood!”

“Yes, General!” The adjutant obeyed but then hesitated for a moment, pausing to ask, “General, isn’t Polygon Wood the British defensive line?”

The adjutant was puzzled because wouldn’t it make more sense to target the weaker Belgian defenses?

“I know!” Cross replied coldly.

“Yes, General!” Not daring to press further, the adjutant turned to relay the orders.

Cross fixed his gaze on the map, focusing on Polygon Wood. He intended to catch the enemy off guard.

As the adjutant suspected, the enemy would also believe that the Germans would attack the Belgian defenses.

Thus, the enemy would concentrate their limited artillery on the Belgian lines, meaning the British positions would lack significant firepower support.

Even if the British called for reinforcements, communication and language barriers would create delays.

More importantly, Cross believed the British supply lines hadn’t caught up yet. They had arrived just two hours earlier and couldn’t possibly have brought much ammunition.

The fearsome aspect of the British army was their ability to unleash a high volume of fire in a short time with their rapid-firing rifles.

But without sufficient ammunition, this advantage would quickly become a liability.

The British soldiers, out of habit, would empty their magazines immediately, leaving them with only bayonets to face the German waves.

Cross’s orders were swiftly executed.

Observation balloons ascended into the sky, putting both sides on edge—they knew this was the prelude to a German artillery bombardment.

Soon, planes took to the air as well, tasked with protecting the balloons and tracking the advancing troops.

The battlefield was shrouded in an oppressive silence, broken only by the soft patter of raindrops on the ground. Soldiers greedily inhaled the air, savoring what little beauty remained in the world.

“Boom! Boom!”

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

...

Artillery shells thundered like exploding lightning, shattering near the Belgian defensive lines. Columns of muddy water radiated outward as steam and smoke mingled, spreading across the open terrain only to be subdued by the drizzle.

Amid a cacophony of whistles, the seemingly flat and barren plain suddenly came alive with human figures. Covered in mud, they had been virtually invisible until they stood up.

“Advance!” The commanders shouted hoarsely.

The soldiers gripped their rifles and charged toward the enemy lines, yelling.

Shells screeched and detonated among them, instantly hurling dozens of men into the air before slamming them back to the ground. Blood and mud splattered indiscriminately.

But the advancing soldiers seemed unfazed. They trudged through the mire, occasionally firing at suspected targets ahead before surging forward relentlessly...

Just as Cross had anticipated, the British defenses, considered stronger, were in fact the weakest point in the line. The Germans easily overran them with a single charge, pursuing the retreating enemy like herding ducks.

“Keep moving!” Cross commanded sharply. “Break through the line as quickly as possible!”

The 27th Reserve Corps was his main force. As long as this unit could breach the enemy line and circle behind them, even if the sluices were opened, it would be too late.

...

In the Belgian command post, King Albert I realized the danger.

He had never expected the British line to crumble. They were the army the Belgians looked up to, yet they had fallen so quickly under the German assault.

“Your Majesty, give the order!” General Charles looked at King Albert I in alarm. “If we don’t open the sluices now, we’ll be surrounded and divided!”

King Albert I gritted his teeth, knowing hesitation was no longer an option. Prolonging this would only lead to the loss of Ypres.

Suddenly, the sharp rattle of machine guns filled the air, followed by the grating roar of aircraft engines. The cacophony culminated in a thunderous explosion.

Just as King Albert I and General Charles were puzzling over the commotion, a messenger burst into the room, wide-eyed and breathless. “Your Majesty! It’s the French planes! They’re shooting down the enemy aircraft!”

“Shooting down the enemy aircraft?”

King Albert I and General Charles exchanged bewildered looks, the same question running through their minds: How could they possibly shoot down enemy planes?

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