Chapter 758 - 758: Distribution of Interests

Salpêtrière Hospital was bustling with activity. Numerous severely wounded soldiers, freshly arrived from the front lines, awaited surgery, while others, having already undergone operations, were recovering in overcrowded wards. The corridors were filled with injured soldiers on crutches or with bandaged limbs.

They all recognized Charles, and each one paused to salute respectfully as he passed. Charles always stopped to offer words of encouragement:

"Take care of yourselves; the country will never abandon you."

"Don't worry—if you have trouble finding work afterward, come to my factories."

"Trust me; you'll be able to support yourselves. French soldiers will never be defeated!"

The injured soldiers' eyes filled with tears, deeply moved. They knew Charles meant what he said—after all, it was precisely what he'd been doing all along. He provided wounded veterans with jobs and purpose, ensuring they wouldn't be left destitute once their 130 francs in disability compensation ran out.

Charles climbed the stairs to the second floor, stopping briefly outside the room to salute Colonel Fernand. He took a bouquet of carnations from the guard and entered quietly.

"You seem much better today," Charles remarked to Gallieni, who lay reading a newspaper in bed. Charles casually replaced the old flowers in the vase with fresh ones.

Gallieni still looked frail but had regained some color. He grunted softly and lowered the paper. Fixing his gaze on Charles, he asked bluntly, "How did you manage it?"

"What exactly are you referring to?" Charles sat down in a chair beside the bed.

Gallieni carefully removed his glasses. "The Parliament, Charles. They should have relieved me of my command by now, but they haven't. You intervened, didn't you?"

Charles smiled thinly. "You probably don't want to know. I used certain methods—not particularly honorable ones."

This difference between Gallieni and Charles was evident: Gallieni was always concerned with proper procedures and strict principles. Charles, on the other hand, was willing to use any method to achieve his goals.

Under different circumstances, Gallieni would have scolded Charles for this. He would have argued that proper procedures were essential to ensuring the healthy functioning of the state. But now, Gallieni just nodded slowly, "Perhaps you're right."

Charles looked at Gallieni with mild surprise. This wasn't like him.

Gallieni sighed. "You think I'm old and stubborn, don't you?"

"No, General," Charles replied cautiously, "I just—"

"Don't deny it. I know what you're thinking," Gallieni said quietly. "If bending some rules can save soldiers' lives, then do whatever it takes. I'll stand with you, Charles. That's a promise."

Gallieni's near-death experience had profoundly altered his perspective. Why cling to procedural righteousness if it meant thousands of soldiers dying unnecessarily? The ones who should pay were the politicians, bureaucrats, and wealthy capitalists—not ordinary soldiers.

Charles felt immense relief. Previously, Gallieni's strict adherence to principles had restrained him. With Gallieni's approval now explicit, Charles felt as if his hands had finally been untied.

"You should've thought this way earlier," Charles remarked, peeling an apple and slicing it into small pieces, handing the plate to Gallieni.

"Only because it's you," Gallieni responded, accepting the plate. "I trust that power in your hands won't be abused. Nevertheless, remember to remain careful."

"Yes, General," Charles replied dutifully, though inwardly disagreeing. Gallieni refused to admit it openly, but in conceding now, he had already compromised his principles.

…

At Mézières, Foch enthusiastically oversaw the command center at the local airfield, coordinating garrisoning troops and accepting enemy surrenders. It was the peak of his military career. Within merely three days, his forces had advanced from Verdun to Mézières, reclaiming large areas of territory and capturing nearly 200,000 German soldiers.

Everyone knew that the true credit belonged to Charles. Still, Foch, as commander-in-chief of the French forces, would officially receive much of the glory Charles had handed him.

Just then, two Avro aircraft landed at the airfield, escorted by a squadron of fighters.

Watching through the window, Foch frowned slightly. "Do we have Avros stationed here?"

An aide glanced outside excitedly. "Commander-in-Chief, those are Charles's planes!"

"Are you sure?" Foch asked.

"Absolutely certain," the aide confirmed. "His aircraft have enclosed cockpits. Currently, France has fewer than ten aircraft with enclosed cockpits—the Avro is among them."

Quickly, Foch grabbed his cap and weapon belt from the wall and went out to greet the arrivals.

It was indeed Charles. Foch warmly embraced him, joking, "You could have called ahead, Lieutenant General. I almost mistook your planes for German aircraft."

Charles smiled calmly. "It's fine as long as the aviation units recognize them."

Currently, anti-aircraft defenses were minimal; fighter aircraft posed the only real threat to planes flying over 100 km/h. Charles's words held a subtle implication—aviation superiority was under his personal control.

Foch responded nonchalantly, "Of course."

He had already accepted his fate. Recently, he'd learned that Charles had successfully pressured Parliament into retaining Gallieni as commander of the Reserve Army Group. Foch had not yet discovered precisely how Charles had accomplished this. Parliament had been forced to reverse its decision—a shocking demonstration of Charles's influence.

Moreover, Charles controlled essential resources, arms production, energy supplies, elite troops, and victories on the battlefield. Foch knew he had no power left to oppose Charles.

After they moved into the private conference room, Charles began speaking plainly:

"I came today to discuss with you appointments for the commanders of each Army Group."

"As you're aware, the Meuse defensive line has largely stabilized."

"We must use this opportunity to promote capable officers to positions of authority. Only then can our army achieve its full potential."

Foch immediately agreed. "Absolutely, that's exactly what we should do."

Outwardly calm, Foch's heart raced. Command appointments were Parliament's prerogative; even he, as commander-in-chief, couldn't decide unilaterally. Yet Charles was openly "discussing" this with him now.

Charles continued in a relaxed tone, "I believe General Weygand would be a fine choice as commander of the Northern Army Group. Would you agree?"

Foch was momentarily stunned. Weygand was his own protégé. Immediately, though, he realized this was political horse-trading.

"Oh, yes, I absolutely agree," Foch quickly nodded. "And of course, Gallieni should remain commander of the Reserve Army Group."

Foch was repaying the favor.

Thank you for the support, friends. If you want to read more chapters in advance, go to my Patreon.

Read 30 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/Franklin1