In Ferwo Town, the rain had miraculously stopped, and a faint rainbow arched across the horizon. Yet, the reporters had no interest in this rare sight after the storm; instead, they gathered in small groups, animatedly discussing the day's battle.
"Apparently, even headquarters isn't entirely sure of the latest developments. Maybe they just don't want to tell us," someone speculated.
"They only confirmed that Charles's forces broke through at Anderluzy and Tarmon."
"So, reaching Lafoux won't be immediate, right? It should take them at least two more days. I guess we're stuck here for two days too!"
In the minds of these reporters, battle meant a drawn-out engagement with visible progress and gradual movement. Even with tanks breaking through line after line, reaching Lafoux, fifteen kilometers away, in a few days seemed reasonable to them.
However, Cobdo, a war correspondent for The Morning Post, saw things differently. He understood the danger of such conventional thinking. Both armies had poured nearly all their forces into this single stretch of the frontline, leaving the rear nearly unguarded. It was as fragile as an egg—hard on the outside, but hollow within. If a weak point in the shell was pierced, exposing the hollow center, Charles's forces could advance all the way to Berlin, if only supplies could keep up.
Though Charles wasn't targeting Berlin, Cobdo mused, Lafoux might fall within mere hours if his forces maintained their momentum. He kept these thoughts to himself, wary of rival journalists, but couldn't resist glancing towards the German lines with his binoculars, hoping for some sign of the truth.
"Let's get closer to the front," he urged his assistant, Swan, itching for firsthand coverage.
But Swan thought he was insane. "Too risky, Cobdo. It's too dangerous!"
"You don't understand!" Cobdo insisted. "This could be our chance to report breaking news, hours ahead of everyone else—enough time for a special edition!"
"Or, it could be nothing," Swan replied dryly. "If it were anything worth noting, headquarters would already be reacting. Just look at those soldiers," he said, gesturing at a nearby patrol. "Do they look like they're celebrating a victory? Victory isn't something that just happens, Cobdo; it has signs."
"That's because they don't know," Cobdo said, desperate to make his assistant understand. "No one realizes yet how quickly this could be over, but it could be faster than anyone imagines!"
Still, Swan shook his head in doubt.
As it turned out, Cobdo was right. General Joffre's command staff hadn't anticipated it, and neither had the soldiers facing the German trench lines on the front. Joffre and his staff were still speculating on Charles's exact position, while the frontline soldiers braced themselves, fearing the Germans might launch an attack at any moment.
Suddenly, a white flag rose slowly above the German trench line, waving cautiously to catch their attention.
"Hold your fire, hold your fire!" Colonel Cote shouted, assuming a German messenger was being sent forward with a message.
But as the figure drew nearer, Cote's expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. It was a German officer—a colonel, no less.
"We surrender, Colonel!" the German officer announced in awkward French, a weary look on his face.
"What?" Cote stammered, momentarily lost for words. "You mean…how many of you?"
Colonel Halil, his own face lined with resignation, couldn't believe the French hadn't yet grasped the situation. Do they not realize Lafoux is surrounded?
"All of us," Halil replied, deflated. "You've won."
Cote stared at him in stunned silence. "But…why?"
Halil's face showed the hollowed-out look of a man broken by circumstance. He was surrendering to soldiers who didn't even know what had happened. If it weren't for wanting to spare unnecessary deaths, Halil would rather have waited for Charles's forces to reach him. That way, at least, he might have kept his dignity intact.
At General Joffre's command post, a communications officer froze mid-call, his expression shocked as he listened. Then, as if discovering something miraculous, he shouted, "They've surrendered! They've surrendered!"
He yelled so loudly that it silenced the entire room, drawing stares from every direction, as if everyone expected he'd lost his mind.
"What surrendered?" Joffre snapped, his irritation barely restrained. "Are you dreaming, Gerard?"
"No, General!" the officer shouted, barely containing his excitement. "It's Colonel Cote on the line. He reports that the Germans have surrendered. Charles's forces have reached Arlony and linked up. The Germans had no choice!" Thɪs chapter is updated by NovᴇlFir(e).nᴇt
A stunned silence hung in the air, only to break into cheers moments later. Several overexcited staff members even dashed outside to spread the news, shouting, "The Germans have surrendered! We've won!"
Joffre, however, slumped into his chair, his face betraying nothing of the celebration around him. Surrounded by cheers, he was silent, repeating the thought that haunted him: I had to learn the outcome of my battle from the enemy.
Vice-Commander Carnes checked his pocket watch against the timeline written in the battle report. From the initial assault to the final surrender, Charles had achieved victory in just one hour and forty-seven minutes—under two hours.
With just two thousand men, Charles had liberated Lafoux, capturing an estimated ten thousand Germans, most of whom hadn't fired a single shot. This same force had, on previous occasions, repelled the attacks of the French High Command, which had lost countless tanks and men in its futile assaults.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
Shaking his head in amazement, Carnes said to himself, "Only Charles could have done this."
News of the victory spread rapidly through Ferwo, reaching even the reporters who were initially baffled.
"Did Joffre organize an assault against the Germans? Otherwise, why would they surrender?"
"But there was no word from headquarters, and we didn't hear any gunfire!"
Only Cobdo understood the situation, glancing at his assistant with a resigned smile, as if to say, See? I told you so. But it was too late now.
"We should have been at the front to capture the moment of the German surrender," Cobdo muttered regretfully. "That would have guaranteed us the headlines, a real scoop. Now, we're just another paper in the crowd."
He glanced wistfully towards the front line. "Charles moved faster than I expected."
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