Chapter 700 – A Fatal Weakness
Paris City Hall, Prime Minister's Office, smoke lingering in the air.
Briand and Clemenceau sat in silence, each holding a cigar, their expressions sullen as they flipped through the freshly delivered newspapers.
Charles had not reported any of his operations in Mézières to Paris. Even when reports came in, they were always delayed—sometimes by hours, sometimes by days.
As a result, even the highest offices in the French government had to rely on newspapers to learn the latest developments at the front.
"What an insult," Clemenceau muttered angrily. "Does the military not realize that they are required to operate with the consent of Parliament and the government? And yet we don't even know what's happening on the front lines!"
"This is wartime, Mr. Commissioner," Briand replied, exhausted. "If we still required Parliament and government approval for every decision, we'd be guaranteeing only one thing—defeat. Total defeat."
It wasn't just Briand saying this. Gallieni, Pétain, and even Foch had all presented similar views—unified in their stance.
Most recently, Gallieni had made the case:
"You know what Parliament is like, Mr. Prime Minister. It's crawling with foreign spies, including German ones."
"Any military plan discussed in Parliament today will be in German hands tomorrow."
"How do you expect us to win a war under those conditions?"
Pétain echoed his support via telegram:
"Parliament is filled with men who neither understand military matters nor know how to fight a war. And yet we are forced to get their approval to make plans?"
"If that's the case, I have a suggestion."
"Send all the deputies to the front. If each of them fights like Colonel Driant, then I'll have no objections."
(Note: Colonel Driant was a member of Parliament who volunteered for combat after the war began and died heroically during the Battle of Verdun.)
Foch, meanwhile, made a rare trip back from the Somme front just to persuade Briand in person:
"This is a critical moment, Mr. Prime Minister."
"If we were still fighting trench warfare or static defense, maybe Parliament could still oversee military operations. Nothing would change too quickly."
"But we're not. This is maneuver warfare now—deep thrusts. Charles is attacking into the heart of German defenses."
"If we tie his hands and feet with parliamentary procedure, we might as well hand him over to the Germans ourselves."
In truth, Briand would've liked nothing more than to tie Charles down and send him to fight like that.
But…
Gallieni was the Minister of War. Pétain was the backbone of Verdun. Foch was both France's and the Allied Supreme Commander.
With these three behind Charles, they essentially represented the entire French military.
Even as Prime Minister, Briand didn't dare oppose them outright.
And besides, he didn't have a strong reason to oppose them. Everyone knew that during critical times, the military had to be given the freedom it needed—unless, of course, he didn't want France to win the war.
So in the end, Briand and Clemenceau found themselves increasingly powerless. They were losing control over both the military and the war effort.
Clemenceau was furious. He slammed the newspaper down on the desk and growled, "Foch, Pétain, and that so-called 'cleverest man in France,' Gamelin—what are they doing? Has no one other than Charles been able to win a battle?"
It didn't matter who it was—anyone who could win a battle would be elevated by Parliament and the capitalists alike.
Because only then could they use military success to create a counterweight to Charles's growing power.
But unfortunately, nearly every victory had been Charles's. Even if they added up all the others' achievements, they still paled in comparison.
Briand slid a newspaper over to Clemenceau and tapped one article with his finger.
"You think any of those men could've come up with something like this?"
Clemenceau glanced down. It was an issue of La Gloire, featuring a photo of the amphibious version of the Charles A1 tank.
It showed the tank slowly entering the water, with two soldiers on top operating it.
(Photo caption: A Sherman DD entering water—comparable in design.)
There was despair in Briand's eyes.
"He did it in one night. I mean Charles."
"Ten hours. He had the idea, supervised the modifications, and then drove over a hundred tanks across the Meuse!"
"No bridges. No pontoon bridges. No auxiliary supports of any kind. They just drove across the Meuse and smashed through the German lines."
Briand's voice grew louder with every word. "Can you imagine? The Germans had all the advantages—and still got crushed. And Gamelin is called the cleverest man in France? What a joke!"
Next to Charles, no one else even deserved to use the word "clever." To do so would be to insult the word itself.
Clemenceau leaned back into the sofa and spread his hands.
His gesture seemed to say: I agree—but what do you want me to do? No one can stop Charles now.
Briand sat in silence for a moment, then picked up the phone.
"Send Colonel Dura to my office."
After hanging up, he explained to Clemenceau, "We need someone who understands military affairs."
Clemenceau nodded.
Colonel Dura was head of the Second Bureau of the General Staff. Though officially in charge of intelligence, he had graduated from the military academy and had combat experience, earning commendations for it.
Soon, Dura appeared before them.
Briand spoke cautiously: "Colonel, I assume you're aware of Charles's latest victory at the front."
"It's a glorious success, one that has lifted the spirits of the entire nation."
"But out of concern for the bigger picture, I'd like your professional opinion. Do you see any weaknesses in Charles's current operation? Or do you know anything… more specific?"
Colonel Dura, of course, understood what Briand and Clemenceau were really after.
They weren't traitors. But they were politicians—and they didn't want someone like Charles rising too fast and becoming unstoppable.
Dura couldn't say this openly. Instead, he put on a thoughtful expression.
"Yes, Prime Minister," he said. "I've been analyzing Charles's operations—or rather, studying them closely."
"I've noticed something. This latest maneuver differs from his previous ones. It might even be a fatal weakness."
Clemenceau's eyes lit up. He straightened in his seat.
"A fatal weakness?"
"Yes, Commissioner." Dura remained composed as he explained:
"In all of Charles's previous deep thrusts, his First Armored Corps was accompanied by significant infantry forces."
"For example, during the Antwerp push, Foch's units followed him. In the Hasselt operation, King Albert's troops followed behind."
"These infantry forces could take over and hold the trenches and cities that Charles had cleared."
"But this time…"
Briand and Clemenceau exchanged a glance, their faces brightening.
"This time, there's no follow-up infantry."
"To break through the Ardennes, Charles took only the First Armored Corps."
(End of Chapter 700)
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