Chapter 654: A Gamer's Mindset
Vice Admiral Gepratte had no trouble securing control over the ten new destroyers.
In his report, he clearly stated:
"These ten destroyers are funded through the Brest fleet. If the government plans to reassign them to Toulon, then the funding will be withdrawn."
Thus, the government faced a choice:
Refuse—and the French Navy would get nothing.
Accept—and the navy would receive ten new destroyers, even if they were under Brest's command and operated in the Atlantic and North Sea.
Anyone with half a brain could see the correct answer.
In truth, both the parliament and the government wanted to choose the other option.
Briand and Clemenceau even agreed: the destroyers should not be allowed to proceed.
"We all know," Clemenceau said,
"this is Charles's first step in taking control of the navy—even if it's only the Brest fleet.
He'll also use it to tighten his grip over military logistics."
"I know," Briand nodded.
"But we have no grounds to refuse."
Refuse funding from Charles?
Refuse the victories in the North Sea?
Refuse Charles's logistical control?
That would cause a nationwide uproar—maybe even a revolt.
People would think their prime minister and deputies had lost their minds—
or worse, had been bought off by Britain or even Germany.
It would be viewed as outright treason.
Clemenceau chuckled.
"Maybe this is a good thing. Charles is openly positioning himself against the British—
specifically the Royal Navy.
That arrogant bastard… he's going to get what's coming to him."
Briand slowly nodded.
Challenging the world's top navy wasn't something a few planes could accomplish.
What they didn't know was this:
The one suffering sleepless nights, drowning in stress, wasn't Charles—
but the British Royal Navy itself, the very force they worshipped like a god.
Perhaps because they had blind faith in the Royal Navy,
or maybe because they wanted to push Charles faster into a confrontation,
the parliament approved Gepratte's request in just two days.
On the other side, after confirming with Dejoyka, Charles secured an initial $3 million investment the same day.
Even the steel needed for shipbuilding had already been arranged through American suppliers.
(Note: It took about a week for ships to travel from New York to Brest. Shipping costs were low, and due to inflation and high domestic prices, importing U.S. steel was cheaper than buying it in France.)
Thus, construction of the new destroyers was officially launched—at an unprecedented pace.
…
At the command post in Antwerp Airport, Charles received an unusual visitor.
This guest was shrouded in secrecy—Charles had no idea who he was.
The request had come in a telegram from War Minister Gallieni the night before:
"Someone wants to meet with you—tomorrow morning.
Please prepare for the meeting and keep it confidential.
No one but you is to know about it."
Who could it be?
Charles was curious.
Who required such a high level of secrecy?
Still, he didn't dwell on it.
He simply instructed his guards to keep outsiders away from the airport.
Sometimes, the more "classified" an operation appeared, the more likely it was to attract attention.
If patrols were suddenly increased, the area swept, or layers of security added,
spies would immediately realize that a VIP was about to arrive—and prepare accordingly.
Charles didn't bother with such theatrics.
By the next morning, he had practically forgotten the matter.
After breakfast, he resumed reviewing and signing documents.
As he signed, he pondered:
What kind of anti-air weapons should be mounted on the new destroyers?
Maybe install Bofors AA guns?
That didn't seem right.
He currently held air superiority.
Deploying such medium-range AA systems might only end up working against himself.
No—this had to be gradual.
Like Russian nesting dolls, things had to evolve layer by layer,
so that Britain could always be boxed into the next layer and beaten down again.
Just then, a guard reported:
"General, someone is here to see you. He says he's Lieutenant Colonel Fernand."
Charles paused.
Fernand? Could he be the mystery guest Gallieni mentioned?
Charles chuckled.
"Let him in."
He assumed this was some sort of elaborate prank.
Soon, Lieutenant Colonel Fernand arrived—followed by a few officers who looked like aides or guards.
Charles stood to greet them, expecting Fernand to act casually as he usually did.
But to his surprise, Fernand looked nervous.
He glanced around, lowered his voice, and leaned in close to whisper:
"Someone wishes to meet with you privately, General."
He then stepped aside, revealing a man with a thick white moustache and a dignified bearing.
He looked like a staff officer—but there was something very unusual about him.
The officer studied Charles with interest, then smiled slightly and greeted him in Russian:
"Good day. It's an honor to meet you, General Charles."
Charles instantly realized—this was the real guest.
A Russian.
Given the level of secrecy, his rank must be very high.
He might even be a target for enemy agents.
And sure enough, when they were seated in the meeting room with a translator present,
the translator introduced the man:
"General, this is General Brusilov. He's very interested in your armored breakthrough tactics."
(Note: Pictured is General Alexei Brusilov, then Chief of the General Staff of the Russian Empire.
The only major victory on the Eastern Front—the Brusilov Offensive—was commanded by him and nearly broke the Austro-Hungarian army.)
"Pleasure to meet you, General," Charles said, stepping forward to shake his hand.
Brusilov, ever serious, gave a slight nod.
"I heard you're only nineteen?
I'm curious—how did you develop tactics that most men only come to understand after decades of battlefield experience?"
He then cited an example:
"Like your 'reverse-slope defense' at Verdun.
It was a bold innovation.
Most would never think to abandon the high ground—it's typically seen as the ultimate tactical and strategic asset."
Indeed, battles of this era often revolved around capturing elevated terrain.
Tactically, the high ground gave better vision and firing angles.
Strategically, it provided intel and acted like nails driven into the enemy's mobility.
Charles half-joked:
"That's because I treat war like a game, General.
Many things we never think of trying are only untried because we take them too seriously.
We fear blood, death, or even national ruin from a single failure.
But if you view it like a game, you'll find there are many things worth trying—many things you can try."
Brusilov was momentarily stunned—then smiled.
"You're right. The battlefield does need that kind of gamer's mindset."
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