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

Chapter 705 This is Shire’s Style

Paris City Hall.

In the Prime Minister’s office, a few people had no appetite for breakfast. They sipped coffee and waited anxiously for news from the front.

Petain’s situation was as they expected; he indeed failed to break through the German defense line.

Ever since Shire led his troops to seize the core Duomont Fortress of the Verdun Fortress Group, the Germans had built a defense line combining fortresses and trenches based on Ornes, Beaumont, Mokur, and other fortresses.

Perhaps knowing that Petain wouldn’t attack easily, the Germans didn’t place barbed wire and mines in front of the defense line.

But even so, Petain, who always focused on constructing defensive positions, appeared weak and powerless during the attack—over an hour of offensive, with half an hour spent on artillery preparation. The troops charged and were repelled by German artillery three times.

Major Durra felt odd about this:

"Repelled by German artillery three times in half an hour?"

"Do they retreat as soon as they encounter German bombardment? Running back and forth three times almost takes half an hour!"

Clemenceau responded with a hum without commenting further, his mouth curled into a faint sneer; Petain was always like this.

Briand, however, found it understandable: "This is not Petain’s forte. We all know he emphasizes defense and sees offensive as irresponsible to soldiers’ lives and combat."

At the same time, he sighed silently.

If it weren’t for Shire, his theory might be correct.

Because the facts seemed to suggest that attacking meant using lives wastefully to exhaust enemy bullets and shells.

But after Shire fought several brilliant intertwining battles, everyone understood one thing:

Attacking doesn’t necessarily need to pile up lives like Fuxu; it can be like Shire’s interspersed movements, skillfully cutting through enemy positions like a scalpel, forcing the enemy into futile efforts.

By comparison, Petain’s defense couldn’t secure victory or reduce soldier losses.

The final outcome led to a prevailing belief that Shire was the only correct strategist.

This was why Shire gradually took control of the military and held an unparalleled status in France that no one could shake.

People trusted Shire, believing his theories and words were correct.

Military personnel, workers, farmers, and even housewives who were often secluded from information all trusted him.

What was most unsettling was that France might return to its dictatorial era because of this—a dictatorship supported and longed for by the entire populace!

While the few in the room fell silent, the secretary walked in with a slight smile: "Prime Minister, Shire’s troops have stopped at Truk Town. Reportedly, they encountered an ambush by the German tank units!"

Clemenceau, sitting on the sofa, jumped up excitedly, proudly tilting his head:

"I knew it, the Germans wouldn’t be that stupid!"

"Indeed, if we could foresee Shire interspersing through Verdun, they surely could as well. Otherwise, they wouldn’t qualify as our opponents, let alone Shire’s adversaries!"

Major Durra rose, found Truk on the map, and analyzed:

"There’s a forest here; the Germans likely hid their tanks within it."

"Moreover, Truk is a necessary path to Verdun. Even if Shire knew of their ambush, he could hardly avoid it."

"I’m saying he has to force through or detour, but really only ’force through’ is an option."

Shire intertwined along the Meuse River, with the river on one side clearly impassable, and detouring would add thirty kilometers, trapping Shire’s troops in encirclement.

Briand hesitated and asked: "Will Shire proactively attack? I mean, Shire’s armored units are nearly invincible."

Shire had faced the Germans several times before, always winning big, this time might be no exception.

However, Major Durra was confident:

"No, Prime Minister, this time is different."

"Shire’s armored units have been preparing at Mezieres for a whole day; his troops are exhausted."

"If Shire initiates an attack, he might very well lose this battle!"

Clemenceau agreed:

"Yes, if I may say, much longer than just a day."

Their units previously busied themselves attacking Mezieres before several continuous days of intertwining through Arden Mountains.

"Now, as they finally reach the Truk area, the German tank units appear."

Briand’s realization brought a gleam of joy to his eyes: "Right, Shire has met an opponent. I’ve heard the German First Tank Division is thought to be the only unit capable of defeating Shire."

"Indeed." Major Durra confirmed: "The commander is Major General Erwin. He has faced Shire multiple times, though usually at a disadvantage."

Briand nodded in satisfaction.

He never thought he would someday pin hope on the Germans.

Relaxing, Briand felt hungry and suggested: "Perhaps we should have some cake while we wait for the outcome."

"Certainly." Clemenceau and Major Durra agreed readily.

However, before Briand called the secretary, the secretary burst in with alarm: "Prime Minister, Shire has defeated the enemy, a complete victory!"

"What?" The three simultaneously looked at the secretary, shocked.

"How could it be?" Major Durra asked: "Within half an hour, Shire defeated the enemy completely?"

"Yes..."

Clemenceau interrupted: "What about the casualties in Shire’s armored division?"

If Shire’s armored division suffered heavy losses, he still couldn’t continue intertwining through Verdun.

"The armored division hardly suffered any casualties, sir." The secretary replied with a note of helplessness.

"No, this is impossible." Major Durra was incredulous: "That’s the German First Tank Division, how could they be so weak?"

Two or three hundred tanks—even if their performance couldn’t match the "Shire A1," they should at least be able to fight half of them.

Yet the result was "Shire’s troops nearly had no casualties"?

Briand caught the crucial point and asked: "How did Shire accomplish this?"

"With incendiary bullets, Prime Minister," the secretary answered. "He invented a new bomb, carrying it on planes, dropping it into the forest, starting a fire. The German tanks couldn’t even drive out of the forest..."

Briand’s mouth hung open, he couldn’t speak for a long time; was this possible?

Clemenceau held his coffee, swallowed hard, and looked at Major Durra.

Major Durra hesitated for a moment, though not willing to believe, he nodded lightly.

This was Shire’s style; he always appeared with surprising inventions at crucial moments to turn the tide of battle!