I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 40

Chapter 40: They’re Done For

At dawn, as the sun began to rise through the mist...

Major General Garde had just woken up and hadn’t even washed when he sat in his tent, staring at the map with furrowed brows, sighing occasionally.

Suddenly, a burst of intense gunfire echoed from the front lines, jolting him. He looked up sharply, then turned his gaze toward the tent’s entrance.

Moments later, a messenger rushed in and reported, “General, the reconnaissance unit has been ambushed by the enemy, suffering over seventy casualties!”

The staff officer followed closely behind the messenger into the tent, his expression suggesting he had anticipated this outcome.

“Order the troops to attack!” General Garde commanded without hesitation. “Take them down at all costs!”

“Yes, sir!” The messenger saluted and hurried off to deliver the order.

General Garde let out a weary sigh. Though the 5th Army had won battles and was pursuing the enemy, it felt like they were being led by the nose.

Every hill, ridge, or even a small patch of forest along their path could potentially be a German ambush site.

The Germans employed highly flexible tactics, varying their ambush forces between large and small units.

When the French sent small detachments to engage, the Germans would counterattack and annihilate them.

When the French mobilized larger forces to encircle them, they would find the enemy long gone, leaving behind notes with crude French greetings.

This left the 5th Army advancing only eight kilometers per day, suffering hundreds or even thousands of casualties per kilometer.

General Garde ground his teeth in frustration:
“Tanks! We need tanks! If we had tanks leading the way, this wouldn’t be happening!”

“Aren’t they here yet? What’s Browning up to?”

“General!” the staff officer replied cautiously. “The old tanks are beyond repair, and the new ones haven’t been delivered to Major Browning yet, so...”

For the first time, General Garde deeply resented the capitalists.

When Charles invented the tank, it took him less than half a day to produce twelve of them—it was essentially just steel plates welded onto a tractor.

But now, the capitalists were playing their “scarcity marketing” tricks, deliberately delaying production to create an artificial shortage in the army. Soldiers were left waiting with eager anticipation until they begged for more, forcing the military to pay higher prices.

General Garde could ignore the soldiers’ casualties, but if this continued, his 5th Army would be wiped out. Then, as its commander, he’d become nothing but a commander without an army.

More importantly, General Garde sensed that the Germans weren’t retreating willingly. They were likely regrouping for a counteroffensive.

He wasn’t sure if they could withstand such an attack without tanks!

As General Garde faced this dilemma, unsure of how to proceed, cheers erupted outside the tent, accompanied by the rumble of engines.

“What’s going on?” General Garde asked. “Is it reinforcements?”

The engine sounds weren’t heavy like tanks. General Garde assumed it was trucks carrying reinforcements.

The staff officer was about to step outside to check when a messenger rushed in, excitedly reporting, “General, it’s Major Browning! He’s arrived with the Third Infantry Battalion!”

“Major Browning?” General Garde’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean their tanks have been repaired?”

“No, General!” the messenger replied. “They’re riding... well... motorcycles—three-wheeled motorcycles!”

“Three-wheeled motorcycles?”

Driven by curiosity, General Garde bent down to exit the tent and grabbed his binoculars to look half a kilometer down the road. Sure enough, he saw a convoy of motorcycles speeding along.

Each motorcycle had three wheels and was mounted with a Maxim machine gun.

General Garde’s eyes widened. Was this some new type of tank? Was it another invention by that young man, Charles?

But something didn’t seem right—the motorcycles showed no intention of stopping.

“Where are they going?” General Garde exclaimed in surprise.

The staff officer glanced at the motorcycles’ direction and said, “General, they’re heading for the mountain road!”

“No! Stop them!” General Garde shouted furiously. “They should stay and fight with us, not flee into the mountains like cowards... This is disgraceful desertion!”

The staff officer immediately ordered the messenger, “Tell them to stop!”

“Yes, sir!” The messenger quickly mounted a warhorse and galloped toward the motorcycles.

However, as the staff officer watched the horse trailing far behind the motorcycles’ dust clouds, he realized the order wouldn’t reach Major Browning.

This was intentional on Major Browning’s part—he didn’t want General Garde’s messenger catching up to issue orders.

It was also Charles’ idea.

“The most important thing,” Charles said, crouching over a map, “is for you to break free from the army’s command.”

“Why?” Major Browning’s eyes filled with fear.

A unit of just over two hundred soldiers, operating independently from the main force—what could they possibly accomplish? Without support, they’d be nothing more than cannon fodder.

“Your commander doesn’t know how to use sidecar motorcycles in battle!” Charles explained. “They’ll treat them like tanks, sending them up front to block bullets. If that happens, you’re truly finished!”

Major Browning felt awkward—he had planned to do just that: send the motorcycles up front to spray enemy positions with Maxim guns.

“Then...” Major Browning hesitated. “We can’t fight like that?”

He didn’t care about embarrassment—it was better to ask now than to risk lives on the battlefield.

Besides, Charles was no ordinary man. He was a genius!

“Of course not!” Charles replied. “The armor on the front of the motorcycles is only 5mm thick. Enemy rifles can pierce it from two hundred meters away. The sides and rear are completely exposed, offering no protection!”

He added, “We can’t add thicker armor—it would make them impossible to drive!”

Major Browning was baffled. “If sidecar motorcycles can’t block bullets or attack the enemy, what use are they?”

“Speed, Major!” Charles emphasized. “Their advantage is speed!”

“Speed?” Major Browning was confused. Could speed really be an advantage on the battlefield? Wouldn’t it just lead to faster deaths?

Charles pointed at the map and explained:

“The Germans can fight while retreating because they leave a rearguard to cover them.”

“Their rearguard is well-prepared. They dig trenches or position themselves in advantageous terrain, ready to gun us down as we approach.”

“Of course, we can’t charge headlong into their firepower!”

“But we can only chase them from behind...” Major Browning argued.

Charles didn’t respond. He simply turned and gave Major Browning a cold, questioning stare.

Suddenly, Major Browning understood. Infantry could only follow from behind, but motorcycles had a speed advantage—several times, even dozens of times faster.

“You mean we can bypass the German rearguard and attack their main force?” Major Browning hesitated.

“Exactly!” Charles said. “The main force won’t be prepared. They’ll assume their rearguard is holding the line. So, their soldiers will have their rifles slung over their shoulders, their cannons will be hitched to horses, and their entire column will be marching in a straight line—or resting in camps on open ground. At that moment, if over a hundred Maxim machine guns suddenly appeared on their flanks...”

Major Browning finished excitedly, “They’d be done for! They wouldn’t even have a chance to fight back!”

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