I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 54

Chapter 53 doesn't exist
Chapter 54: Laurent’s Dedication

The guard company was stationed in an open area outside the factory. This place was originally a defensive position where the French army had resisted the German forces. Many fortifications remained, and the soldiers had reinforced and modified them while pitching dozens of tents, transforming the site into their camp.

Inside the medical tent, medics carefully tended to Laurent's injuries.

The beating he suffered a few days ago in the town when mistaken for a "kidnapper" was mere superficial bruising, but today, the furious worker's hard blow had left him with more serious injuries. His left arm was dislocated, now reset and secured with a sling around his neck, requiring at least a week to heal. His nose had been broken and hastily reset amid a howl of pain, but the bleeding persisted and could only be staunched with disinfected cotton.

When the medics had finished, Captain Jules, the commander of the guard company, asked uneasily, “It’s nothing serious, is it, Major?”

“A minor issue!” Laurent replied, his voice sounding nasal and odd due to his stuffed nose, while covering it with his healthy right hand. “Everything... is under control!”

“You mean...” Captain Jules’s face was filled with doubt. “Even what just happened was part of the plan?”

“Of course!” Laurent coughed to mask his nervousness, then puffed out his chest. “Only by creating this kind of conflict can we make those capitalists believe we’re unhappy with Charles!”

“I understand, but...” Jules hesitated, noticing Laurent’s wandering gaze—a sign of lying. Deciding it was best not to expose him, Jules remained silent.

Laurent emphasized again, “Only intense clashes, even bloodshed, will convince the capitalists. This is crucial, Jules!”

“Yes, Major! You’re absolutely right!” Jules agreed, though inwardly thinking, I’ll leave that to you!

After a brief pause, Jules reported, “The problem is that only we in the guard company know the truth. The soldiers believe they’re genuinely monitoring Charles, and many are unwilling to carry out this task. They’re starting to resist, and I fear it may divide the unit!”

This was Gallieni’s order. To maintain secrecy, only trusted aides Laurent and Jules knew that the surveillance of Charles and the factory was actually a cover for protecting them.

Gallieni also had a private motive—he wanted to be the first to know Charles’s strategic and tactical ideas.

Laurent squinted at Jules and asked, “Resistance?”

“Yes,” Jules explained. “Everyone knows Charles saved France, Major. Treating him like a spy under surveillance, even just on the surface, doesn’t sit well with them. They see it as unnecessary, even insulting to their intelligence, and they’re reluctant to carry out the mission.”

Laurent let out a muffled snort through his nose. “Do their opinions matter? They only need to focus on one thing: obeying orders!”

“But, Major...”

“Gather them!” Laurent interrupted. “I’ll deal with them myself!”

“Yes, Major,” Jules replied helplessly.

After Jules left, Laurent stood up and glanced in a mirror. Though his nose was swollen and his lips turned upward, he adjusted his military cap. A soldier must maintain their appearance at all times!

When Laurent stepped out of the tent, more than two hundred soldiers of the guard company were already lined up outside.

Laurent, with one arm in a sling, strode proudly before them, his head held high. He deliberately widened his eyes in an attempt to appear menacing, but to the soldiers, he looked comical instead.

“I’ve heard that some of you are questioning this mission,” Laurent began sternly. “Some think it’s a waste of time to monitor a conscientious capitalist. Is that true?”

Before he could finish, a soldier responded, “Isn’t it, Major?”

“Of course not!” Laurent whirled toward the voice and shouted, “Have you forgotten Lesseps? Wasn’t he a good man before he declared bankruptcy? Wasn’t he, like Charles, hailed as a savior?”

This was a reference to events from twenty years ago.

The French entrepreneur Lesseps had obtained the rights to dig the Panama Canal and issued shares in France. With fervent media coverage and repeated assurances from numerous parliamentarians, the entire nation believed it was a sure-fire investment.

The public went wild, treating Lesseps as a savior who would lead them to prosperity. They snapped up the billions of francs in shares he issued, then eagerly purchased additional stock when it was released.

However, the company suddenly declared bankruptcy, burdened with 1.28 billion francs in debt, while only a third of the canal was completed.

The people realized they’d been duped, only to discover that almost everyone had accepted bribes from Lesseps: high-ranking officials, 200 parliamentarians, and countless journalists. Even Georges Clemenceau, the Radical Party leader, had taken a bribe of one million francs.

This scandal bankrupted 900,000 small shareholders and caused numerous small and medium-sized businesses to collapse.

What infuriated the public even more was that despite overwhelming evidence, the courts declared all parties not guilty, and Lesseps was fined a paltry 3,000 francs.

Repeated protests, strikes, and demonstrations by the people were all in vain.

They had been naive, believing capitalists could be judged by other capitalists and held accountable for their crimes. Such dreams could only come true in their imagination.

The soldiers fell silent. Laurent’s argument was compelling. Before his bankruptcy, Lesseps had not only been a good man but also a beacon of hope for the French people.

This was one of the reasons why the French military and civilians harbored such deep resentment toward capitalists, and Charles was, after all, a capitalist.

“Capitalists always have ulterior motives!” Laurent continued hoarsely. He habitually tried to gesture with his left hand to reinforce his words but quickly switched to his right hand when the pain reminded him of his injury. “They all seem like good people until they reveal their true faces. They are all the same—driven by greed, seeking to extract every last drop of sweat and blood from us. It has always been this way, without exception!”

Some soldiers nodded in agreement.
“You’re right! They’re all up to no good!”
“They just want to sell their technology for a higher price!”

...

However, others disagreed.
“Charles is different! He saved our lives!”
“What’s worth more than our lives or France?”
“He didn’t have to do any of this. My brother was wounded in the war, and Charles paid out of his own pocket without asking for anything in return! We can’t treat Charles this way!”

...

It was unclear who started it, but soon, insults turned into punches. Soldiers began brawling with each other, unable to distinguish who supported which side.

Many even threw their rifles aside to join the fray, shouting wildly as the scene descended into chaos.

Laurent watched in utter confusion, shouting in vain to stop the escalating violence. “Wait, stop! You fools—”

“Bang!” A stray punch landed squarely on Laurent’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

...

Inside the three-story office at the motorcycle factory, Djoka and Charles stared in bafflement at the chaos outside the perimeter.

“What are they doing?” Djoka asked.

“I have no idea,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “Maybe... training? They might be practicing how to deal with angry workers.”

Djoka nodded, feeling somewhat moved. Laurent was indeed a dedicated soldier. His training seemed so realistic that it looked genuine. Surely, such a man would protect Charles diligently!

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