The rain fell softly, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, pausing briefly before resuming its endless patter. The deadline for Charles's preparations grew ever closer, and the new rail line had been completed ahead of schedule and was now officially in use.
To keep the Germans unaware of when the tanks would be transported from Charles's tractor factory, the train arrived at the factory every evening at five and returned to Paris at dawn. The train cars were not always empty, and General Gallieni publicly claimed that the military had signed a long-term contract with Charles's factory for tractors and motorcycles, justifying the new line as a means to expedite shipment to the front lines.
While this was partially true—Charles's factory now fully supplied the military's tractor needs—the railway's primary purpose was to prepare for the upcoming battle at Lafaux. Soon, the trains would carry not only tractors and motorcycles but also tanks and soldiers. With the regular schedule, nobody could pinpoint exactly when Charles's tanks were transported, leaving the Germans in the dark about the timing of Charles's offensive.
Charles's time over this week was mostly free since he was solely responsible for training the troops in preparation for the assault on Lafaux. He wasn't required to report to the command center.
That day, Charles was deep in discussion with Estienne on coordinating the motorcycles with the tanks when Laurent approached with a message: "Lieutenant, the General has requested you at the command center."
Charles was surprised. Gallieni had entrusted him fully with the training, rarely intervening. Why summon him now?
Leaving Estienne with some instructions, Charles followed Laurent to the car, wondering if he might already know why he was being called in. A slight smile tugged at his mouth; he suspected he was in for a scolding.
Sure enough, when Charles reached the command center, Gallieni led him straight to the lounge. He picked up a newspaper from the table, handed it to Charles, and spoke in a low, angry tone: "Care to explain this?"
Charles glanced at the paper. The front-page headline read:
"Charles Claims Speed and Maneuverability Are Crucial for Tanks—Only This Can Save Them from Enemy Fire."
Gallieni's eyes were filled with barely controlled fury as he asked, "Did you say this?"
"My apologies, General," Charles replied, "I slipped up."
It had happened the previous evening. Charles had left training early, as Estienne and Browning were capably overseeing the troops. As soon as he stepped out, reporters swarmed around him, shouting:
"Lieutenant, General Joffre's third offensive failed yesterday. What are your thoughts?"
"As the inventor of the tank, do you think this type of offensive is even necessary?"
"Do you believe there's room for improvement in their tactics?"
Charles usually avoided answering these questions. Any comment, even a single word, could inadvertently give away hints to the enemy. Laurent, in sync with Charles, had immediately stepped in, using the guards to keep the reporters at bay and allow Deroka's car to pass through.
One reporter, however, got close enough to call out loudly, "Lieutenant! Many people believe your tank isn't up to the task. Is that true? By not participating in the bidding process and not deploying your tanks in combat, are you admitting it?"
At that, Charles couldn't resist replying, "Which tanks aren't up to the task? Isn't that already evident on the battlefield?"
"They say your tank is no different from the others!" The reporter, sensing an opportunity, pressed on. "In fact, some think it's even worse. Your tank has only machine guns, no cannon, and fewer guns overall!"
With a scornful look, Charles responded, "Cannon and machine guns are not the point; that's their biggest mistake. A tank needs speed and trench-crossing ability. It must first get close to the enemy trenches and reach the front line—only then can its weapons be effective. Otherwise, it's bound to be 'inadequate.'"
The reporters were stunned. Many of them, familiar with military affairs, understood that if Charles's assessment were true, both the CA-1 and Saint-Chamond tanks had indeed gone astray.
After a moment's thought, they realized he had a point: If a tank couldn't even reach the enemy lines, what use were its cannon and machine guns? They would be nothing but decoration. The source of thɪs content is ɴovᴇl(ꜰ)ir(e).nᴇt
Suddenly, the reporters pounced, flashing cameras and firing off questions:
"Lieutenant, does this mean you think General Joffre's offensives should be halted?"
"Do you believe your tank can defeat the enemy?"
"Are you confident in your tank? If you were leading this battle…"
Realizing he'd said too much, Charles hurriedly ordered Deroka to drive off, escaping the scene.
Now, Gallieni's temper flared as he pointed at the paper, his tone filled with derision.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant! Your superior strategy has been broadcast for all to see. Many believe you're correct; you're once again hailed as France's hero, the lone voice of reason."
"The people now think you should be leading this battle, and they're calling everyone else fools who don't understand tanks."
"But…" Gallieni's tone grew darker, "Have you considered that the Germans are reading this too?"
"Of course, General," Charles replied, his voice steady.
Gallieni's anger faltered; something felt off. Studying Charles's expression, he suddenly chuckled. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
Charles nodded slightly. "Yes, General. My factory is riddled with spies. I couldn't root them all out quickly, so this was the best option."
Gallieni's expression turned complex, falling silent before finally nodding and murmuring, "You sly little fox! But… I forgive you."
Charles was taken aback. Shouldn't it be up to me to forgive you?
Then, without warning, Gallieni roared, "You deliberately handed critical information to everyone—including our enemies!"
"This borders on espionage!"
"Do you understand what this means? We'll pay dearly for this—with tanks and the lives of French soldiers!"
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