The afternoon in Paris was shrouded in gray haze, though other places might be bathed in sunlight.
Gallieni lay alone on the bed in the command room’s resting area, gazing at the smog outside the window and mockingly complained to himself, "Unbelievable, why do the Germans city? What’s so good about it?"
Before he could finish speaking, waves of dull pain from his abdomen made him frown.
That was an old wound from the Franco-German War. Gallieni vaguely remembered that at the time he was just a lieutenant, leading a team of more than two hundred men, wielding Chassepot rifles and battling the Prussians.
When he was aiming his rifle at a Prussian Colonel, he became so focused that he didn’t realize he himself was in someone else’s sights.
Almost simultaneously as Gallieni fired the rifle and hit the target, a sharp pain pierced his abdomen, followed by his body collapsing to the ground, unable to stand again.
Gallieni became a prisoner of the Prussians. He thought he would spend the rest of his days in the prison camp, enduring the pain, as the Prussians wouldn’t waste precious medicine on prisoners.
But fate is miraculous. Not long after, France surrendered, and per the agreement, the Prussians released the prisoners. Gallieni was one of them; he miraculously survived and later, over the decades, grew into a Vice Admiral of the French Army.
Clutching his abdomen, Gallieni struggled to sit up from the bed, murmuring to himself, "I should be thankful that the Germans used paper shell cartridges back then, otherwise France would have one less General!"
A gentle knocking sound came from outside the room. Gallieni straightened up and dropped his hand; he didn’t want his subordinates to see him in a weakened state, "Come in!"
The staff officer entered, and upon seeing his expression, Gallieni knew it was good news.
"What? Have we advanced another step?" Gallieni’s tone was not without sarcasm.
Advancing with blood and lives is nothing to be proud of. Gallieni even worried that the Germans were retreating to consume more of the French Army’s vital forces.
However, all the officers in the command room delighted in it, and the newspapers continually reported and even exaggerated the news of victories.
"No, General!" The staff officer excitedly handed the document to Gallieni, "It’s the 3rd Infantry Battalion of the 5th Army Group, the one that drove the Germans away with tanks. They have won another great victory!"
Gallieni let out an "Oh," calmly took the document, and took his glasses from the bedside to put them on, asking expressionlessly, "Did they go up in tanks again? I heard tanks are still being negotiated on price..."
"No, General!" The staff officer replied, "Not tanks, but a modified motorcycle!"
"Motorcycle?" Gallieni looked doubtfully at the document in his hand, which recorded the battle results reported by the 5th Army Group.
"Estimate that they killed or wounded over 4,000 enemies, destroyed more than 40 cannons, and we only lost 23 men..."
Gallieni read softly, his voice gradually rising into a questioning tone.
A trace of ridicule hung at the corner of his mouth as he turned to look at the staff officer, eyes gleaming with anger, "Do I look like a fool to you, Alex?"
The staff officer was stunned, "No, of course not, General..."
"If not, why show me such a battle report to mock me?" Gallieni threw the document onto the table and said coldly, "Have we stooped so low as to falsify achievements for self-deception?"
"Do you know what a negative impact this will have?" Gallieni became more agitated as he spoke, slowly stood up, glaring angrily, "This is disgraceful deception, other units will follow suit, Alex! Everyone will indulge in fake achievements and do nothing! This will lead us to collapse, no amount of troops will help!"
"And you, losing the most basic sense of judgment, dare to present such a battle report to me! You encourage this behavior! This is no different from falsifying achievements! You are criminals, accomplices!"
Gallieni’s face turned white with anger. He had already decided to root out everyone involved in this line and kick them out of the army.
Only then can the French Army possibly achieve victory, true victory!
"It’s true, General!" The staff officer yelled urgently, "They used the sidecar invented by Shire, a combat motorcycle, hence they could achieve such feats with two hundred men like a tank!"
Gallieni was stunned, it took him a while to ask skeptically, "A combat motorcycle? What is that?"
"I... I’m not sure!" This question stumped the staff officer, "They said it’s a three-wheeled motorcycle, with a Maxim Machine Gun mounted on the sidecar allowing it to fight on the move! We couldn’t believe such results either, but after multiple confirmations, it was the same result each time!"
Gallieni still couldn’t believe it. He remained silent for a while, then seemed to recall something, "You mean Shire, the young man who invented the tank?"
"Yes, that’s him!" The staff officer suspected that it was actually Shire who astonished Gallieni the most.
If Shire could invent tanks that allowed three hundred men to miraculously win a battle they should have lost, then he could likely invent another piece of equipment that enabled two hundred men to inflict heavy casualties!
"General!" Another staff officer entered, standing at the door and reporting, "The Germans have retreated. Our troops have advanced 7 kilometers, discovering a large number of remnants of artillery and corpses along the way. The Germans didn’t even have time to take the bodies!"
This indirectly confirmed the results of the 3rd Infantry Battalion’s battle; the remnants of artillery and corpses were irrefutable evidence.
Gallieni’s eyes instantly brightened, the anger vanished, replaced by ecstatic joy. This almost meant that the Germans’ offensive had completely failed, with no chance of counter-attack.
He sat down at the table again, picked up the document, and his trembling fingers, excitedly, made the document shake continuously.
After a while, Gallieni ordered, "Alex, I need to know the entire process, in as much detail as possible!"
The staff officer was about to leave when Gallieni added another order, "Call Lauren here!"
Lauren was Gallieni’s security detail.
Perhaps the word "security detail" wasn’t appropriate, Lauren was one of Gallieni’s few confidants whom he could trust unreservedly. After all, even when Gallieni retired, Lauren stayed with him voluntarily to protect his safety.
At that time, no one could have imagined the Germans would invade and Gallieni would be reappointed.
This meant Lauren had almost given up everything, reputation, rank, high salary...
Soon, Lauren knocked and entered.
"Sir, what are your orders?" Lauren asked softly.
Privately, Gallieni preferred Lauren to call him "Sir."
Gallieni nodded towards the wooden door, Lauren understood, turned back to close the door, then walked over to Gallieni and got closer.
Gallieni lowered his voice and said, "I want to meet someone, without letting others know. Arrange it!"
Lauren responded, though puzzled. With Gallieni’s status, meeting someone would be as simple as a word.
And without letting others know?