I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France

Chapter 579: Revised - 579 For More People to Survive

General Ganmelin threw down the telegram and walked up to Shire, his tone harsh: "No matter what you plan on doing, General, you should stop!"

Shire moved the newspaper away slightly, glanced coldly at Ganmelin: "It seems you’ve forgotten your place, General, and also forgotten whom you are speaking to."

Ganmelin was startled, then realized he had grown accustomed to holding command, and had forgotten that Shire was the army group commander.

But Ganmelin still refused to back down.

The command authority was in his hands, he was much older than Shire, and also the smartest general in France; here, he called the shots.

"You know what I’m talking about, General." Ganmelin naturally placed himself on the high ground, excitedly said: "Our opponent is the Germans, it shouldn’t be our own people. What you are doing is extremely irresponsible, it’s a nightmare for the army!"

Shire seemed interrupted from reading his newspaper. He shook the paper, folded it casually a couple of times, and tossed it onto the desk:

"Firstly, I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Secondly, I completely agree that our opponent is the Germans."

"But if we’re talking about a ’nightmare’, I don’t think anything can compare to the River Somme, wouldn’t you say, General?"

Ganmelin was left speechless.

Shire was telling him: In the hands of fools like you, the troops will suffer tragedies like the River Somme again and again, whereas Shire is the one who can achieve victory with the least cost.

Therefore, from the perspective of casualties, victory, and even national interest, Ganmelin’s approach of sidelining Shire’s power is the true "irresponsibility" and "nightmare" he spoke of.

Shire sneered, these idiots, they dare speak of "irresponsibility".

Seeing he couldn’t persuade Shire, Ganmelin could only say hatefully: "I won’t let you succeed."

Shire shrugged indifferently, indicating "bring it on", he was curious to see what Ganmelin could do to solve this impasse.

In the end, Ganmelin walked back to his desk, and before even sitting down, issued an order: "Order the troops to cease their attack!"

After saying this, Ganmelin glanced slightly proudly at Shire.

If these officers were killed in the chaos during the attack, not attacking would leave you powerless, wouldn’t it!

Shire maintained a smile, a hint of mocking at the corner of his mouth.

This idiot, actually thought this could solve the problem.

About half an hour later, this dark struggle had a result.

A staff officer by the phone reported loudly to Ganmelin: "General, the Germans launched an attack on our defensive lines. They raided the headquarters of our 72nd Infantry Division, Major General Donadieu was seriously injured, and there were two regiment commanders and seven staff officers killed."

Ganmelin’s face instantly turned ashen, he then realized the French Army not attacking didn’t mean the German Army wouldn’t attack.

And once the German Army launched an attack, the troops implementing the "unwritten rules" could even wipe out the officers hiding in the headquarters.

Of course, still under the pretense of the "Storm Assault Team", the Germans gave them a perfect excuse!

Ganmelin glared at Shire in fury and shame, but was helpless.

Shire merely smiled, seemingly mocking Ganmelin’s naivety and impracticality.

Once this "unwritten rule" among the troops started, it was hard to stop.

Because, not just Kristen’s First Specialized Artillery Division, the entire Sixth Army Group would follow suit once hearing the news, and wouldn’t stop until their objectives were achieved.

They just wanted to survive and achieve victory, and the only one who could accomplish this was Shire.

But the officers planted in between blocked their path to Shire, leading the soldiers toward death.

If the soldiers wanted to live, they had to remove these "stumbling blocks" in their way!

...

In the 16th District of Paris, the 74-year-old Clemenceau was celebrating Christmas Eve with his family at his villa.

This was a large family, over twenty people gathered around a rectangular dining table, men and women, old and young, amidst the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, their laughter and joy filled the air, the table was laden with exquisite food, children chased and played in the gaps.

Clemenceau sat at the head of the table, after drinking a few glasses of wine, his face glowing red, his slightly intoxicated eyes looked at everything with satisfaction.

Nothing could be more proud than ensuring family reunions during wartime.

And he firmly believed that no matter how many years this war lasted, he had the ability to achieve this.

At this moment, the butler approached skillfully, placing a silver tray in front of Clemenceau, Clemenceau was taken aback, it was a telegram, from Belgium.

It read: "A large number of officers from the Sixth Army Group were killed in the battle."

The butler leaned forward and whispered: "Sir, Brigadier General Gezavier was killed recently in Jangbulu!"

Clemenceau’s face changed repeatedly, he glanced at his brother sitting to his right, Gezavier was his youngest son.

While Clemenceau was still pondering how to break the news, another servant hurriedly approached: "Sir, Prime Minister Briand requests your presence at the City Hall!"

...

Briand had been staying at the City Hall, having no family commitments, he could spend Christmas Eve anywhere, he planned to stay here and monitor tonight’s "Christmas Offensive".

(Note: Briand was an ascetic, he remained unmarried throughout his life)

Around eight o’clock in the evening, after dinner, Briand stood by the window with a glass of red wine, leisurely admiring the night view of Paris, marveling at the greatness of this "City of Light".

As the bells of Notre Dame sounded from afar, Briand intended to summarize his work.

Recalling for a moment, he felt his most proud achievement was successfully sidelining Shire from the Sixth Army Group not long ago.

"This certainly was a good thing." Briand muttered to himself, staring into the void: "Otherwise, France would be groaning under the control of a dictator again, I must ensure her freedom!"

At that moment the secretary came in, hurried footsteps: "Prime Minister, General Ganmelin has called, a large number of officers were killed in the battle."

Briand turned sharply, as if pricked by a needle, he sensed this was not just about "killed in battle".

He took the telegram, read it for a while, then ordered: "Summon Clemenceau."

"Yes, sir."

Before Clemenceau arrived, Briand sent a telegram to inquire Ganmelin:

"Is this matter related to Shire?"

"I’m not sure, sir, he seems to have done nothing, we have no evidence."

"How could they do this?"

"In fact, this can be said to be a tradition of the army."

"Tradition?"

"Yes." Ganmelin explained:

"They call it ’Law of the Jungle’ or ’Natural Law’."

"In peacetime, they use lynching to punish soldiers who drag down the unit."

"During wartime, this kind of lynching becomes even more aggressive. But mostly it targets officers who threaten the survival of the troops, aiming to let more people live."

Implication is: If officers give them no way to survive, neither government nor law can save them, they can only rely on themselves.