I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: What is This "Monster"?

Francis paused for a moment before asking, “What about Charles? Where is he? Has his family also left?”

“No, sir!” the butler replied. “They’re at the tractor factory!”

Without another word, Francis began walking toward the tractor factory, his silver cane tucked under his arm.

The butler trotted after him, pleading earnestly:
“Sir, the Germans are right at our doorstep—they’ve already attacked! The tractor factory is too dangerous.”

“Going there now is like walking into a trap! We should leave immediately!”

But Francis paid him no attention. He strode quickly downstairs and toward the factory, his pace quickening so much that the butler had to run to keep up.

Francis wasn’t concerned for Charles’s safety. He only wanted to hear Charles’s explanation before the Germans captured the factory. That arrogant, self-important boy had convinced him to wager everything—and now he had nothing left!

...

Inside the factory, Francis immediately spotted Djoka and Camille. They were standing together, trembling as they faced the square, occasionally flinching at the sounds of gunfire and screams coming from beyond the walls.

“Where is Charles?” Francis asked, stepping forward.

“Father!” Djoka’s initial surprise at seeing Francis quickly turned to wariness when he noticed his father’s dark expression. He hesitated briefly but then understood that Francis was furious with Charles.

Angered, Djoka gently pushed Camille aside and positioned himself between Francis and the square. His face was emotionless as he said, “This has nothing to do with Charles, Father! Every decision was yours to make!”

Francis shoved Djoka aside and froze at the sight before him.

Charles stood on a platform in the square, calmly surveying the scene outside the walls through binoculars. He occasionally barked commands to the soldiers below.

Beneath the platform, hundreds of fully armed French soldiers were gathered. They were organized into several small, rectangular groups, each led by a strange “iron contraption.”

“What are those?” Francis asked, intrigued by the sight of the “iron contraptions.”

“I don’t know!” Djoka replied. “Charles says they’ll protect us and the factory.”

Francis let out a derisive laugh.

He recognized the tracks on the machines. Those “iron contraptions” were modified tractors, their frames encased in steel plating. Their exhaust pipes puffed smoke, signaling they were ready to move.

“He thinks he’s Napoleon!” Francis muttered, dismissing Charles’s strategy. “Using modified tractors like these!”

Still, he didn’t approach Charles. Instead, he stayed back to observe what the boy would do next.

Charles remained composed, his voice steady as he issued orders like a seasoned commander:
“Hold steady!”
“Hold steady…”
“Advance!”

At the command, the “iron contraptions” roared to life, moving forward slowly. Behind them, the French soldiers followed in two orderly lines, gripping their rifles tightly.

There were 12 of the “iron contraptions” in total. Nine advanced in a line at the front, while three followed more slowly at the rear, seemingly maintaining some distance from the main group.

This was Charles’s plan.

He had divided the “tanks” into four groups, each consisting of three machines. The front three groups formed the vanguard, tasked with breaking through the enemy’s formation. The fourth group served as a reserve, ready to provide reinforcements or address unforeseen issues, such as an enemy flanking maneuver. Keeping a reserve force was key to victory.

The “iron contraptions” clattered toward the walls, and with a loud “boom,” one of them easily knocked down part of the wall. Its tracks crushed the rubble as its wedge-shaped front rose dramatically, revealing the machine in its full, imposing form to the advancing German soldiers.

The German troops, who had been chasing down the retreating French soldiers in high spirits, were stunned by the sight. Their charge faltered as fear gripped them.

“My God, what is that?”

“Is it their secret weapon?”

“We’ve walked into a trap! They lured us here deliberately!”

...

Human nature fears the unknown. In their terror, the German soldiers’ imaginations ran wild, sowing unease and spreading rumors. Many unconsciously stepped back, clutching their rifles but forgetting to fire.

This unit, known as the “Steel First Regiment,” was part of the German First Army’s elite forces. Their commander, Colonel Jonas, was in the middle of the formation. Noticing the commotion ahead, he hurried forward with his guards, arriving just in time to see several of the “iron contraptions” rumbling over the debris and onto open ground.

Without hesitation, Colonel Jonas shouted an order:
“Attention! Raise your rifles and destroy those things!”

Spurred on by their commander’s firm voice, the German soldiers mustered their courage and aimed their rifles at the approaching “monsters.”

“Fire!”

“Bang! Bang!”

“Bang, bang, bang!”

...

Bullets flew toward the “monsters,” but an astonishing scene unfolded. The bullets merely sparked as they hit the machines’ metal shells. After a cacophony of “clang, clang, clang,” the “monsters” remained unscathed.

The German soldiers froze, staring in disbelief at the machines. One question haunted them all:
If bullets are useless, how can we destroy them?
With bayonets?
Or the spikes on our helmets?

Colonel Jonas was just as shocked as his men. However, his combat experience and leadership instincts suppressed his fear. In a steady voice, he ordered:
“Reload your rifles!”

The German soldiers mechanically chambered new rounds and took aim again. Many were pale, sweating, or nervously swallowing, but they obeyed.

“Fire!”

“Bang, bang, bang…”

This volley was more coordinated, aimed to maximize damage. Yet it was just as ineffective. The bullets left small dents, like raindrops on smooth sand. The “monsters” continued advancing, emitting ominous growls.

Charles watched from the platform, binoculars in hand. He remained cold and detached, knowing the Germans’ efforts were futile. At a range of about 200 meters, their rifles couldn’t penetrate 9mm steel plating, especially with the tanks’ sloped armor.

Beside him, Camille gasped, gripping Djoka’s hand.
“Djoka, did you see that? It worked!”

“Incredible—it actually worked!”

Her eyes sparkled with joy and pride as she turned to Charles.

“He’s amazing!” she exclaimed.

Camille began to move toward Charles but was stopped by Djoka.
“No, Camille! The battle isn’t over. We mustn’t disturb him.”

Camille immediately understood, her tear-streaked face breaking into an embarrassed smile.
“You’re right. I almost made a mistake.”

Even as she spoke, her eyes remained fixed on Charles. She whispered to herself repeatedly:
“He’s our son! Our son…”

Francis watched the battlefield unfold with a conflicted expression.

Could this boy have foreseen the use of these machines when he convinced him to gamble everything?
If so, his vision and cunning were truly terrifying!

At that moment, the battle took another turn.

The machine guns mounted on the “iron contraptions” began to roar, spraying bullets at the German soldiers. From behind the tanks, the French infantry emerged, firing at their enemies with newfound confidence.

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