I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 119

Chapter 119: Charles Is Not Someone They Can Defeat

At 3 p.m., in the French National Assembly at the Palais Bourbon in Paris, General Gallieni was on the podium, responding to urgent questioning from the deputies.

The reason for this was that Gallieni had included a vast number of items in the wartime procurement regulations, including 100 airplanes and 500 tractors, with a total cost reaching 2.2 million francs.

“General Gallieni!” a deputy demanded, “The battles at the frontlines are ferocious. At this moment, isn’t what we need rifles, artillery, and ammunition? Why have you chosen to spend such a fortune on virtually useless airplanes and tractors?”

The chamber echoed with a wave of support:

“Yes, we need rifles and artillery. We need to arm more soldiers!”
“What can airplanes do? Attack enemy balloons? That won’t kill many enemies!”
“And what about tractors? Are they for farming? Yet you’re purchasing 500 of them!”

...

Gallieni replied calmly and unhurriedly, “You are correct, Deputy. The soldiers at the front indeed need weapons and ammunition. But the question is, how can we get these weapons and ammunition to them?”

“What do you mean?” Steed, the owner of the Saint-Étienne Arms Factory, stood up and questioned, “Do we not already have trains, automobiles, and horses? Do we truly need airplanes and tractors to transport weapons and ammunition to the battlefield?”

As he spoke, Steed turned to the deputies behind him and loudly asked, “Would any of you buy a tractor just to use it for hauling goods?”

The deputies burst into laughter, finding the notion absurd. The speed of a tractor made it suitable only for plowing fields.

However, some recalled the concept of tanks modified from tractors, but they chose to remain silent.

Gallieni raised his chin slightly and countered with a question, “Gentlemen, has anyone among you been to Ypres?”

A few raised their hands to indicate they had.

Gallieni gestured politely toward them. “Gentlemen, would you care to share your impressions of Ypres?”

One after another, the deputies responded:

“It’s flat terrain, close to the sea, and very damp!”
“Yes, it’s wet everywhere, like a swamp!”
“Transportation is extremely inconvenient. When it rains, cars can’t move because they quickly get stuck!”

...

Gallieni nodded slightly, turned his gaze back to Steed, and politely asked, “Sir, did you hear what they said?”

He then scanned the chamber and offered a succinct summary: “The terrain at Ypres is such that only tractors can get in and out! Only tractors can tow artillery into place, and only tractors can deliver bread, ammunition, and other supplies that soldiers need to their hands. Yet you oppose my purchase of them?”

The chamber fell silent. Steed sat down with a dark and sullen expression.

This emergency questioning targeting Gallieni had been initiated by Steed, who still bore a grudge against Gallieni for replacing the Saint-Étienne machine gun with the Hotchkiss model, leaving Steed’s inventory of Saint-Étienne machine guns to pile up as scrap metal.

At this moment, Jamison stood up. “What about airplanes, then? Why are you purchasing airplanes? We already have enough! Compared to these flying contraptions, soldiers need artillery more, and yet you haven’t increased artillery procurement!”

The deputies chimed in again:
“Yes, soldiers need artillery!”
“Artillery is what will bring us victory!”
“The utility of airplanes is minimal. We should spend funds on what is truly useful!”

...

Jamison, the owner of the Schneider Arms Factory, was naturally advocating for increased artillery procurement, as artillery was his company’s product.

Gallieni merely sneered coldly and retorted, “Is that so? You think only artillery can bring us victory, and that airplanes are of little use?”

“Isn’t that common knowledge?” Jamison pressed his point. “You might argue that airplanes shot down a Zeppelin in Antwerp and even destroyed a ‘Big Bertha’ gun, but what if the Germans don’t deploy Zeppelins? The destruction of the ‘Big Bertha’ was just a fluke!”

Jamison added, “Even your purchase of tractors is for transporting artillery and shells to the front. Your actions prove we need more artillery!”

Gallieni let out a disdainful snort, a hint of scorn curling at his lips. “Then let’s wait and see, Mr. Jamison!”

“This won’t work on me, General!” Jamison laughed smugly. “You can’t dismiss us with a ‘wait and see.’ Everyone here is waiting for your answer!”

Jamison believed Gallieni was stalling the debate. He would not allow it.

Other deputies, thinking the same, cooperated by booing loudly toward the podium.

Gallieni, unfazed, calmly pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open, glanced at the time, and then returned it to his pocket. With unwavering confidence, he announced, “Almost time, gentlemen. Perhaps just a few more minutes—you won’t have to wait long.”

Grevy and Armand sat silently below, uninterested in intervening. This was a struggle between left-wing capitalists and the military over equipment procurement.

Armand suddenly had a thought and whispered to Grevy, “Could Francis be about to strike it rich? Five hundred tractors, and there might be more purchases…”

Grevy interrupted him, “He already sold all his tractors beforehand—at 900 francs each!”

“What?” Armand exclaimed, then burst out laughing. “He was just a bit unlucky!”

“You think it’s luck?” Grevy chuckled and shook his head.

“What else could it be…?” Armand looked at Grevy, puzzled.

With a faint smile, Grevy replied, “The one who bought those tractors could only have been Charles.”

“Charles?!” Armand exclaimed, then quickly caught on. “Smart little fellow! Perhaps it was his suggestion that prompted the military to purchase tractors!”

“Of course, it was him!” Grevy said, his gaze fixed on Gallieni on the podium. “Charles seems to have everything under control. He knows what the army needs. All he has to do is buy it in advance, suggest it to the military, and then profit handsomely. What could be simpler?”

“Isn’t he worried about the current situation?” Armand gestured to the deputies’ heckling and accusations.

Grevy confidently replied, “As long as these items prove useful on the battlefield—or better yet, help win the war—no one will be able to question him!”

Armand nodded thoughtfully. Victory justified everything. Charles was simply doing the right thing. What was there to question? Questioning victory itself would brand the accuser as a traitor!

But airplanes...

Armand remained puzzled. Could they really only shoot down balloons, as the deputies suggested? How could that silence the critics?

The left-wing deputies grew increasingly impatient. Their questioning became more heated, escalating to shouting:

“Step down! We know what’s going on here!”
“This procurement is unjustified, and we’ll urge the government to remove it from the wartime budget!”
“You’ll be held accountable for this, as will anyone who profited from it!”

...

Some even threw crumpled paper at the podium.

Yet Gallieni stood firm, unmoving, as the paper balls hit him and rolled to the floor.

At this moment, Lieutenant Colonel Fernand entered the chamber, breathing heavily. He hurried down the long aisle to Gallieni, his expression alight with excitement, and handed him a telegram.

Gallieni took the telegram and read it. A victorious smile spread across his face.

“Gentlemen, allow me to announce some good news.”

“Just now, under the command of Lieutenant Charles, our flight squadron shot down 13 enemy aircraft over Ypres!”

“Not a single casualty on our side!”

The chamber fell silent instantly. Shot down—not crashed—and 13 enemy aircraft, with zero losses. How was this possible?

Was it false reporting?

No, such a claim would be easily disproved, and Gallieni would never make such a mistake!

Then it had to be... Charles!

Everyone thought of him. The room buzzed with discussions, speculating what Charles might have invented this time.

Grevy’s expression turned serious. He felt Charles might have ascended to a realm where he could only look up to him.

Charles, it seemed, was not someone he could ever hope to defeat.

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