I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Everything is Business

However, Francis was not so easily convinced. The disdain at the corner of his mouth faded as he spoke seriously:

"I'm sorry, but we are equally unable to command the Fifth Army of France. We can't even influence the higher-ups. We are merely... businessmen with some notable achievements."

Francis shrugged awkwardly, feeling embarrassed to admit before Charles that he lacked any political or military background.

The true capitalists who controlled the nation's lifeblood were not industrialists but the 200 major shareholders of the Banque de France, known as the "200 Families." They enjoyed the privilege of issuing currency, controlled national loans, dictated the economy, and even swayed national decisions.

Although Francis' tractor factory ranked among the top 100 companies in France, in the face of banking capital, it was merely a laborer. Each year, 7% of its net profit went into the pockets of financial capitalists in the form of loan interest.

Charles rolled up the map and set it aside, responding calmly:
"We don't need to command them, nor do we need to influence the military's higher-ups, sir!"

"Think about it—the Fifth Army of France is being relentlessly pursued by the Germans. They've likely lost their food, ammunition, and even rifles. The soldiers might have been starving for days."

"If you can prepare as much food as possible and combine it with the machine gun factory you just acquired, you could provide essential supplies to the Fifth Army."

"Although it may not be much, it's better than waiting in chaotic Paris to be surrounded. Wouldn't you agree?"

Francis understood Charles' idea. It was about using food to lure the small fish, then using the small fish to attract the big fish, ultimately shifting the entire battlefield!

Still, he hesitated.
"Would the Germans really fall for it?" Francis asked doubtfully. "Would they really alter their plan to encircle Paris just because the Fifth Army changes its escape route?"

After all, this was Paris—the political and transportation hub of France!
Charles, undeterred, replied leisurely:
"If it were only the Fifth Army, they might not. But what if they believed France had no intention of defending Paris?"

"The government officials have already evacuated, civilians are fleeing en masse, and the defending troops are demoralized and unwilling to fight."

"If we then spread 'rumors' that the defending forces are prepared to retreat, the Germans would think all they'll find in Paris is an empty city. Do you think they would still bother encircling it?"

Francis was stunned. If Paris truly became an empty city, there would be no point in encircling it. Instead, pursuing the Fifth Army of France would yield tangible results.

After all, killing enemy combatants was the fastest, most effective, and thorough way to defeat France and leave her powerless to retaliate. This was an obvious truth.

Under these circumstances, the likelihood of the Germans falling into the trap would increase significantly!
Charles added another point:
"I believe there are German spies everywhere in Paris. They will bring these 'rumors' to the Germans."

Francis nodded slightly and looked at Charles as if he were a stranger seeing him for the first time.

Was this plan really devised by a 17-year-old?
Could a high school student possess such wisdom?

Perhaps he had paid too little attention to the boy in the past, leading to his astonishment at today's performance.

Then, out of habit as a businessman, Francis weighed the pros and cons in his mind.
The plan would be difficult to execute but had a genuine chance of success.

And if there was even a 1% chance, it was worth trying. After all, it could save France from peril while also saving his factory!

Charles, meanwhile, sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair, appearing entirely composed as he remarked:

"Sir, if we succeed, you will become a hero of France."

"You will gain fame, and everyone will know your name. This will be the best advertisement. Then, whether it's tractors, motorcycles, or machine guns, they will all sell out!"

"France will cheer for you!"

Francis' eyes gradually lit up, dazzled by the commercial benefits Charles had painted.

No!
It wasn't just about commercial benefits. This could also be his entry point into the political and military spheres, making him a significant figure in France, someone who could even rival the 200 Families!

And the gamble?
It was merely the purchase of some grain and informing the military.

Yet, Francis maintained a stern expression as his tone turned cold:
"Do you think I would steal your idea and claim it as my own?"

Charles shook his head.

"No, sir. I request that you do so."

"Otherwise, they might conscript me into the army because of this!"

Francis was taken aback, having not considered this possibility.

Indeed, if Charles possessed such military talent and France was at war, despite his age, he could very well be drafted. War demanded such talents, after all!
Thus, the idea could only be presented as Francis' own.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Francis looked at Charles and asked hesitantly:

"Then, you..."

He felt as if he had stolen something from the boy—someone he had always looked down on, no less.

Charles offered a magnanimous smile:
"I have no problem with it."

"This has always been your idea, sir. I'm only here for the coffee!"

As he spoke, Charles raised his coffee cup with a flourish and praised it:

"Excellent coffee!"

Francis deliberated for a moment before regaining his composure. Businessmen thrived on mutual benefit; as long as he treated it as a deal, there was no 'theft.'

He said:

"You're right, Charles. I think we should act immediately. Can you assist Mr. Joseph in managing the tractor factory?"

The tractor factory required no assistance. This was a subtle acknowledgment of Charles' status and a test of his ability—or perhaps, a kind of exchange.

Charles, of course, understood the weight of those seemingly casual words. Though his sights were set on the machine gun factory, progress had to be made step by step.

"Of course, sir," Charles replied. "It would be my honor."

...

As Francis descended the stairs, Pierre and Djoka, who had been whispering, stood up simultaneously to greet him. They seemed eager to learn about the conversation upstairs.

At that moment, Francis realized why Charles had wanted to avoid others. If word of this plan leaked to the Germans, they would never alter their route to the east of Paris, and Charles would be conscripted.

"A clever boy!" Francis silently praised him.

He then turned his gaze to Djoka and, with a rare tone of approval, said:
"You've raised a fine son, Djoka, and educated him well!"

"Father!" Djoka was stunned by the compliment.

Francis rarely praised him. In his father's eyes, Djoka had always been indecisive and overly sentimental—traits unsuitable for a successful businessman, who should be ruthless and efficient like Pierre.

Francis said nothing more. Instead, he turned to Pierre and commanded:
"I'm heading to Paris. Use all our reserves to buy grain, and if necessary, trade tractors for it!"

Pierre looked alarmed. "Father, that would leave us destitute—completely beggared..."

"Do as I say!" Francis interrupted sharply.

"Yes, Father," Pierre replied reluctantly.

As Francis took his hat and coat from the rack and hurried out the door, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly as he climbed into his Ford Model T:
His two sons—neither of them could compare to a single boy!

At the same time, Francis was perplexed. How could a maid's child be so extraordinary?

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