I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Who is Charles?

The evening sky over Antwerp brightened slightly as a ray of sunset pierced through the clouds.

Twenty-five kilometers east of the fortress, in a basin formed by rolling hills, General von Beseler, commander of the Third Reserve Corps of the German First Army, stood on high ground, silently observing the horizon through binoculars.

"Boom!" A thunderous explosion echoed.

In a storm-like cloud of smoke, the earth trembled violently, as if shaken by an earthquake.

When the shell left the barrel, it nearly sucked the air from the ground, causing a sudden gust of wind. Everyone instinctively bent down and covered their ears.

It was the roar of the 420mm heavy artillery, "Big Bertha." With a range of 14 kilometers, each shell weighed 1,000 kilograms, requiring a crew of 200 to operate. It could only fire two shells per hour.

General Beseler remained motionless, holding his binoculars steady amid the turbulent air. He stood like a statue. A minute later, a radiating plume of smoke erupted in the gray-black air in the distance, accompanied by a flash of light as the shell detonated.

General Beseler frowned and scolded the adjutant beside him, "Tell Flex he wasted another shell! This one missed by at least a kilometer!"

"Yes, General!" The adjutant responded and went to relay the message.

"Idiots!" General Beseler turned around, walked a few steps to a crate of shells, and glared at the map pinned beneath a bayonet. "As artillerymen, shouldn't they be ashamed of such waste? We should already be standing atop Antwerp’s walls, accepting Gillis’s surrender!"

General Beseler and Gillis were old acquaintances. Before the war, Germany and Belgium maintained good relations. Most of Belgium’s weaponry was purchased from Germany, including their rifles and the cannons within their fortresses.

It was an ironic situation: Belgium was now using German weapons to fight against Germany.

Beseler and Gillis had the kind of relationship where they would share a drink and play chess after discussing business—not close friends, but friendly enough.

Now, however, they had to face each other on the battlefield. Beseler was unsure whether he wanted to see him sooner or never again.

"General!" An adjutant stepped forward to report, "We’ve heard that Charles is in Antwerp!"

Beseler responded with a noncommittal grunt, his eyes still fixed on the map's marked target—Fort Waelhem. He thought, as long as this fortress was destroyed, it would sever Antwerp’s water supply system, leaving the city without fresh water.

"General!" The adjutant repeated, "Charles might be in Antwerp!"

Beseler, annoyed at the interruption, looked up angrily. "Does it matter who’s in Antwerp? Are you planning to recite the name of every person in Antwerp to me—"

He stopped mid-sentence as a thought struck him. "Who did you say is there? Charles?"

"Yes, General!"

"Charles of France? The one who invented the tank and the sidecar?" Beseler pressed.

By now, terms like "tank" and "sidecar" were well-known among German troops. Beseler had also heard of Charles.

"Yes, General!" The adjutant nodded.

Beseler squinted. "Are you certain? What’s the source of this information?"

The adjutant grew cautious. Having worked with Beseler for years, he knew the general only squinted when faced with matters of utmost importance.

"I’m not certain, General!" The adjutant admitted nervously. "The information came from a Belgian merchant who recently returned from France. He mentioned hearing that Charles flew into Antwerp this morning."

Beseler froze for a moment before issuing a rapid series of orders:

"Send someone to verify if any aircraft entered Antwerp this morning. If so, I need to know the model!"

The model was critical—it would reveal whether it was a single-seater or a two-seater. If it was a single-seater, the information was likely false since that boy Charles was unlikely to pilot a plane himself.

"Deploy a division—no, deploy two divisions immediately. We might need to completely encircle Antwerp!"

He couldn’t afford to wait for verification before moving troops. What if the information was true?

"Also, send ten aircraft. We must surround Antwerp from the air!"

The adjutant, while jotting notes in a small notebook, hesitated. "But General, even with planes, we can’t stop enemy aircraft—"

"Crash into them if you have to!" Beseler roared. "Go! Do as I say!"

"Yes, General!" The adjutant fled to carry out the orders.

"These fools!" Beseler cursed. "They’ll never understand how important this is!"

His gaze drifted back toward Antwerp. He muttered to himself, "That boy... could he really be there? Who sent him? These idiots!"

After some thought, Beseler still felt uneasy. He turned and called out, "Luka!"

A guard, carrying a rifle on his shoulder, stepped forward.

"You’ll deliver a letter!" Beseler gestured toward Antwerp. "Get it into Belgian hands and have them give it to General Gillis!"

"Yes, General!"

...

In the Antwerp operations office, the fiery glow of lamps made the room as bright as day. General Gillis and General Winter stood over a map, discussing troop deployments.

General Winter mused, "I think moving the troops to the front lines under cover of night is a good idea. We could dig a trench before the enemy notices. Otherwise, they might shell us while we’re digging!"

General Gillis nodded in agreement. "Our top priority is to strengthen the defenses at Fort Waelhem. If it’s breached, the Germans will enter the Flanders region through the gap. That’s where our fresh water supply system is. The entire city would lose its water supply!"

General Winter’s expression grew serious. He knew what it meant for a coastal city to lose its fresh water.

"Don’t worry, General!" Winter reassured him. "We’ll organize defenses there. Even if Fort Waelhem falls, the Germans will face our steel defenses!"

General Winter had confidence in his troops. The British forces were equipped with Enfield rifles, the fastest-firing rifles, even more effective than French machine guns. With them entrenched, there was no way the Germans could break through.

As the two generals continued discussing trench layouts, an adjutant knocked and entered, handing General Gillis a letter. "General, the Germans sent this. They said it’s from General Beseler."

Guis glanced at the envelope and recognized Beseler’s handwriting.

"Must be a surrender demand!" Gillis chuckled, casually breaking the wax seal and pulling out the letter. After reading for a moment, he frowned and asked, "Who is Charles? They’re saying that if we hand over Charles, they’ll stop attacking Antwerp, now and forever!"

"Charles?" General Winter looked puzzled. "Is he even here?"

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