Chapter 556: What's Truly Frightening Isn't Always the Enemy
After removing Major General Raymond from command, Charles immediately converted the luxurious headquarters into a field hospital hub.
It was called a "hub" because the 200-square-meter bunker was far from sufficient to accommodate all the seriously wounded. Charles ordered tents to be erected around the bunker. The original structure was converted into an operating room and high-risk patient ward, and also tasked with supplying food, clean drinking water, and sterilized bandages.
All supplies in the basement were repurposed directly as field hospital provisions, without being relocated.
No one objected to Charles's decision—caring for the wounded is a mark of a worthy commander. Only those obsessed with promotions and military merits ignored the lives of the injured.
Besides, every soldier knew: someday, they too might be lying in a field hospital in need of help. Opposing the idea today could very well come back like a boomerang tomorrow.
…
After overseeing the transformation, Charles returned with Christine to the First Special Artillery Division's command post.
Christine's headquarters was much more typical: a dark, damp tunnel lit by kerosene lamps with a harsh smell. The cramped space was filled with soldiers, radio operators shouting just feet away, the only seating being bunks, and a desk cobbled together from stacked shell crates—files scattered everywhere in utter disarray.
"The situation is improving," Christine reported, crouched over in the low ceiling. "Some soldiers have started following orders again. Others who had fled are returning to their posts. A preliminary count puts it at about 100,000."
Charles grunted in acknowledgement.
Out of 210,000 soldiers, only 100,000 had returned—and that didn't mean all of them were following orders. The situation remained far from optimistic.
"We need to accelerate the process," Charles said with a frown.
Never before had he felt a crisis loom so close. Not even when the German army had approached the gates of Paris at the beginning of the war.
Back then, the French army still had strength to maneuver. Now, the full weight of France's military was deployed here—disorganized and lacking unified command. If the Germans launched a counterattack, the French main force could be wiped out.
Christine frowned. "But we've done all we can. Now it's a matter of time."
They had negotiated with the soldiers, dealt with arrogant officers, supplied much-needed resources, and improved living conditions. Combined with Charles's personal prestige and credibility, they had barely managed to stabilize the situation.
Now, it seemed, all they could do was wait.
But Charles shook his head. "There's still one thing we can do."
"What is it?" Christine was puzzled—he couldn't imagine what more could be done.
Charles looked him straight in the eye and said each word with weight: "We fight a battle."
Christine stared, wide-eyed.
"General, the mutiny happened because they were afraid of fighting!"
"Everyone fears being thrown back into battle to die. And you want to launch an attack now?"
"Isn't that… inappropriate?"
Charles cut him off.
"No, Christine."
"They're not afraid of fighting. They didn't mutiny because of that."
"They're afraid of dying for nothing."
There might be cowards who used the mutiny as an excuse to desert, but Charles saw no need to drag those men back.
Christine nodded, beginning to understand.
Still, he thought the risk of launching a battle was far too high. If it failed, all the progress they had made would be undone in an instant.
What Christine hadn't realized was that Charles wasn't only worried about the mutiny itself.
He turned to the map on the desk, his eyes focusing on the British-controlled zone north of the Somme.
Sometimes, what's truly frightening isn't the enemy—it's your own allies.
…
Dusk fell. On the north bank of the Somme, the British offensive had also come to a halt.
Without the French joining the attack from the southern bank, their solo push would seem suspicious and raise German alarms.
But the British situation wasn't good either. In just a few weeks, they had lost nearly 200,000 men.
In over a century, the British Army had never suffered such heavy losses. Even the three-year Boer War had only cost them about 40,000 casualties, including the sick and missing.
Yet Haig remained unusually upbeat.
"The French have mutinied. They're refusing to fight," a communications officer reported.
That wasn't exactly good news—after all, the French were allies. If they collapsed, the British couldn't hold alone. The entire Allied front could disintegrate.
"Nivelle has been removed. Charles has taken command of the Sixth Army Group at the Somme. Parliament is urgently electing the next Commander-in-Chief."
That, too, wasn't good news—perhaps even bad.
Charles's power had just grown.
Until now, his command had been restricted to two divisions. Even after being promoted, no one dared give him more troops.
That bastard had captured Antwerp and taken 100,000 German prisoners with just two divisions. Give him more men, and soon he'd be running France himself.
That was precisely what Parliament feared.
But due to the crisis, they had no choice but to appoint Charles to restore order. There was simply no one else who could.
As a result, his troop count had increased more than tenfold overnight.
However, Haig realized that when combined with the mutiny, this could be the perfect opportunity.
Charles had just assumed command. The French forces were still unstable. If the Germans were tipped off at just the right time…
There was no better chance than this.
Haig could use the Germans to weaken both Charles and the French military in one strike. A gift from God.
And if he gave token reinforcements afterward, Charles and France would become dependent on the British—under his control.
A sly smile crept across Haig's face.
"Blaise!" he called.
"Yes, General." The aide jogged over and stood at attention.
"It's time to put pressure on Charles," Haig said coldly. "Feed the press and Parliament some information—tell them Charles can't handle the situation at the Somme."
"Yes, General."
After the aide left, Haig let out a satisfied grunt.
The British had invested hundreds of thousands of men into the Somme. If Charles's army of mutineers turned the tide, British prestige would be shattered.
And so would his.
Worse yet, a ripple effect could reach the colonies and shake the foundations of the Empire.
Haig was determined to ensure that never happened.
Whether it was on the battlefield, in the media, or through politics—he would crush Charles before it was too late.
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