Shire paid no mind to family grievances.
To the Bernard family, Francis was a legend. He was the commercial genius of the family, repeatedly rising from nothing to enter the upper echelons of France.
He was the sky of the Bernard family, an insurmountable presence. Gaining his recognition almost meant a life of comfort, not to mention immense honor.
But Shire did not care about these things. To be exact, he cared little about Francis. In Shire's eyes, he was merely a stepping stone on the path forward.
The bicycle rode smoothly on the flat streets of the small town. There were not many townsfolk; those who could flee had already fled. The ones remaining either had nowhere to go or, like Francis, were unwilling to abandon their properties, pitiful as they were.
Ahead, some French Soldiers appeared. They wore blue military jackets, bright red flat-topped caps, and military trousers, with rifles slung over their shoulders, but most of them lacked backpacks.
Shire thought they must have discarded their packs to lighten their load while fleeing.
This indicated that things were developing as he had hoped; the Fifth Army was already retreating towards Davaz.
Unexpectedly, a group of soldiers ahead stopped Shire.
Not stopped, but rather rudely grabbed his bicycle to make him halt, nearly causing Shire to fall.
"Slow down, kid!" The leading soldier was a Major with a small moustache. His face showed exhaustion, his eyes were bloodshot, and his uniform had dark red stains, indistinguishable if mud or blood.
"Can you tell me where the Cidaki Machine Gun Factory is?" the Major with the small moustache asked.
"I was just heading there!" Shire replied, "Actually, I need to go to the factory next door. I can take you there!"
Shire knew these soldiers were in urgent need of ammunition supply.
"Great!" The Major with the small moustache glanced at Shire and then offered comfort, "Don't worry, kid! The Germans might arrive tomorrow, or not at all!"
That piece of information was a reward for Shire volunteering to lead the way.
Shire pushed the bike, asking while walking, "Is the situation bad?"
The Major with the small moustache merely grunted noncommittally, seemingly unwilling to describe the frontline's horrors to a teenager.
Shire observed the Major with the small moustache and his soldiers, saying, "You are brave soldiers!"
The Major with the small moustache seemed hurt, glaring at Shire with his bloodshot eyes and speaking in a low tone, "Are you mocking us, kid? Watch your words..."
"No, Major!" Shire replied earnestly, "While others are scavenging for food, you are searching for ammo. Moreover, you are maintaining formation, which means you are preparing for combat!"
The Major with the small moustache looked around at the other soldiers, who were indeed maintaining formation, then realized he had misunderstood the boy.
"However, you shouldn't use the word 'brave' to describe deserters!"
The Major with the small moustache had an awkward look on his face.
Shire insisted on his point:
"In the most dangerous and chaotic times, maintaining morale and formation is commendable!"
Shire's words were half true and half motivational. He used the praise technique.
Smart teachers knew how to handle underachieving students; criticism only made them more rebellious, whereas a few words of praise would spur them to live up to the praise.
Shire often received this type of praise from his various teachers.
The Major with the small moustache gave Shire an unexpected, inquisitive look. This kid seemed to know quite a bit.
"What are your plans?" Shire asked again.
The Major with the small moustache shrugged helplessly:
"We'll think about the next step after we replenish our ammo, have a good meal, a decent sleep, and then wait for orders."
"By the way, I heard we can get food here?"
Shire answered confidently:
"Or perhaps you won't receive any orders at all, am I right?"
The Major with the small moustache nodded. The troops were in disarray, and any orders were vague directives such as "Continue retreat," "Rest on the spot," or "Wait for orders!"
They couldn't even locate their superiors and didn't know who was in command.
Shire seized the moment to suggest:
"Why don't you join me? I happen to need a squad of soldiers!"
The Major with the small moustache turned his head, staring blankly at Shire, unable to react immediately. Behind him, soldiers' laughter erupted:
"Oh, we have to obey his command now!"
"This is a kid who dreams of becoming a General. A fine kid, isn't he?"
"He's not even taller than our rifles. Are we sure he won't wet his pants at the sound of gunfire?"
The Major with the small moustache looked at Shire with interest, a mocking smile on his lips:
"Well then, 'General'! What's your plan?"
Shire pointed to the buildings in the clearing ahead and answered without hesitation:
"Defend the machine gun factory. The Germans will target it as a primary point of attack."
"I believe the Germans, in chasing after you, have left their artillery and supplies far behind. They need the factory's machine guns and ammunition too."
"We just need to hold our position at the tractor factory next door. When they think they're about to succeed, we'll hit them hard!"
Shire didn't mind showing a bit of tactical prowess. They couldn't conscript a boy into the army just for his words, could they?
The expression on the Major with the small moustache changed; it seemed like a feasible and organized plan.
The Major looked at the soldiers behind him, who also began to look serious.
It was only now that they realized the Germans had stretched their supply lines too thin in their pursuit. The Germans were also lacking ammunition and needed the machine gun factory.
Therefore, the machine gun factory would definitely be a focal point of the German attack.
Someone murmured, "He seems more reliable than Colonel Leon!"
The soldiers fell silent.
Colonel Leon had been killed in the first battle.
He graduated from Saint-Cyr with top honors. During the attack, he stood at the very front, five meters ahead of the assault line, wearing striking white gloves, which, combined with his blue military coat and red trousers, formed the French tricolor flag.
At the start of the battle, he wore his medals on his chest, holding his head high and pointing his commander's sword toward the enemy, gallantly shouting, "Charge, lads! Kill them all!"
The next second, he was shot to pieces right in front of everyone, and the Ninth Infantry Regiment lost command immediately.
The Major with the small moustache seemed to have a realization at Shire's reminder. He turned around and ordered,
"Simon, Teddy, gather the others and meet at the tractor factory. We need more people!"
"Yes, Major!" the two soldiers responded, then ran off in opposite directions.
The Major with the small moustache quickened his pace to catch up with Shire and introduced himself,
"I'm Brownie. What's your name?"
Brownie shook Shire's hand and said,
"A bit of advice, Shire. You should take your family and leave here."
Shire smiled lightly,
"Here's a piece of advice for you, Major. You should start your counterattack from here."
"Because you can't retreat any further. One more step back and Paris will be surrounded."
"Then the tragedy of the Franco-German War will repeat. We will lose the war again and have to cede territory and pay reparations!"
Shire's words again shocked the soldiers, including Major Brownie.
They couldn't imagine that a boy still wet behind the ears had such courage and insight.
Looking at themselves, their minds habitually leaned towards retreating to save their lives.
The atmosphere became awkward, the air filled with shame and embarrassment, even changing the way the soldiers walked.
After a while, someone cleared their throat and said:
"He's right. We can't retreat any further. We can't let Paris fall into German hands!"
Immediately, others voiced their agreement:
"Yes, haven't we endured enough of the Franco-German War humiliation? For over forty years we've wanted revenge. Is this what our revenge looks like?"
"We must find a way to defeat the Germans. Things can't go on ! Otherwise, we'll live in shame for our entire lives, from birth to death..."
Shire was very pleased with the soldiers' response. He had successfully reignited the fighting spirit in these deserters!