Charles had been unusually busy over the past few weeks, barely taking a break since Christmas. The unpredictable air battles kept him constantly on alert; he couldn't afford to relax at home, knowing that by the time he reached headquarters after a summons, the battle might be over.
Once, he joked with Gallieni: "General, I wonder, are my missed holidays recorded, one by one?"
Gallieni answered cryptically, "The new year has already come, Colonel."
The new year had indeed arrived—five days after Christmas, during which Charles had worked tirelessly at headquarters. Gallieni's response suggested that now that Charles was a full-fledged adult and a colonel, having no holidays during wartime was simply the norm.
As night fell and the lights in the command room began to flicker on, Charles finished another day of work reorganizing the air corps. Aviation was so new that nearly everything about forming an air force—its structure, deployment, and coordination with ground forces—had to be taught by him directly. Charles stretched his arms and rubbed his sore neck, grumbling internally: his responsibilities had multiplied, yet his pay remained the same. Adulthood didn't seem so great.
"Colonel!" Gallieni called out, beckoning him over while biting into a piece of bread. Reluctantly, Charles made his way over, expecting another critique or request for revisions to his plans. Recently, Gallieni had developed a habit of nitpicking Charles's reorganization plans, asking him to explain every decision and to anticipate enemy countermeasures.
However, this time Charles was mistaken. When he approached, Gallieni reached into his desk drawer and took out two small boxes along with a document, handing them to Charles with an air of calm.
"These are yours, Charles. A small acknowledgment of what you have done for France," Gallieni said. Charles took one of the boxes, opened it, and found a medal neatly placed inside. He glanced up at Gallieni, who merely shrugged and continued signing papers.
As Major Fernand happened to pass by, he caught a glimpse of the medal and gasped. "Good heavens, it's the Legion of Honor! Colonel, you've been awarded the Legion of Honor at the rank of Knight!" Fernand grabbed the medal and showed it off to everyone nearby, who soon crowded around Charles, eager to shake his hand and offer their congratulations.
Suddenly, someone called out, "Where's Corbeau? He should be here to capture this moment!" Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NovᴇlFɪre.nᴇt
"He already left for the newspaper office."
"Get him back here, then! This deserves a headline!"
Charles opened the second box to find another medal he didn't recognize. Major Fernand, delighted, explained, "This is the Croix de Guerre, the War Cross. When one receives the Legion of Honor for battlefield merit, they automatically receive this cross, which represents the highest military honor for bravery in France!"
Charles muttered, "Oh, I see. Quite the formality." Although the honors impressed the others, he felt little personal attachment to them. To him, medals were like the titles bestowed upon knights by monarchs in the past, used to secure lifelong loyalty for a mere gesture. Charles thought it all rather silly; he'd prefer a tangible reward—such as a few thousand francs in cash.
Gallieni, observing Charles's indifferent reaction, gave an approving nod to himself. He, too, understood these medals as tools used to sway public opinion. Awarding them to Charles was a convenient way to satisfy the public's desire to recognize a hero, thus maintaining morale.
Gallieni himself recalled an episode twenty-seven years prior when the President's son-in-law, a Member of Parliament, colluded with the Deputy Chief of the Army Staff to sell Legion of Honor medals en masse. This highest honor, coveted by so many, was sold off for mere thousands of francs. When the scandal broke, the culprits faced minimal consequences; Wilson, the main perpetrator, received only a minor charge, was soon acquitted, and eventually even re-elected. The scandal remained unpunished for all involved. Such experiences had long stripped the medal of its honor for Gallieni.
Just then, someone shouted, "Charles, isn't this worth celebrating?"
Charles, catching on, replied enthusiastically, "Absolutely! The officer's club—drinks on me tonight!"
A cheer erupted, as if they'd won a major victory. "You coming, General?" Charles asked Gallieni.
"No, no," Gallieni said, shaking his head with a smile. "Just bring me a cup of coffee."
Charles agreed readily, knowing Gallieni could have coffee anytime. It was simply his way of keeping Charles from feeling indebted.
It was Monday evening, and the club was quiet, with only a few scattered patrons. Most officers spent Mondays catching up on reports and official duties left over from the weekend. But once Charles and his group arrived, the club quickly became packed. As they walked in, everyone eagerly ordered drinks:
"How about a cocktail, Lucia?"
"Or maybe champagne to celebrate?"
"Good idea! This is a day worth toasting!"
Lucia, the bartender, deftly poured drinks into shakers and asked with curiosity, "So, what's the good news? Did Charles win another battle?"
"No, no!" Major Fernand replied, nodding toward Charles. "Today, the best reason to celebrate is that Charles has graciously offered to pay for everyone's drinks—let's celebrate, gentlemen!"
The officers cheered, with one popping open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over the crowd. The once-quiet club had suddenly come alive, buzzing with excitement.
Lucia caught Charles's eye, gave him a sly smile, and then nodded toward the other bartender, "Gareel, cover me for a bit." Gareel took over, giving Lucia a knowing look. "Isn't he a bit young for you, Lucia?"
"He's of age, isn't he?" she replied. "Besides, who could resist a hero—especially a well-off one?"
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