I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

That afternoon, Charles was summoned by a phone call to the Defense Command.

At this point, Charles's main responsibility was with the 105th Infantry Regiment, where he led training for the army's newly issued gas masks, including sharing tactical experience of fighting while wearing them. Most of his time was spent at the police training base overseeing this work.

Charles would still visit the Defense Command every other day, mainly for the training arrangements for the 105th. His former duties there had been taken over by Lieutenant Colonel Fernand, allowing him to focus fully on the training program.

As he climbed the staircase, several familiar staff officers nodded or called out to greet him. Lieutenant Colonel Fernand patted him on the shoulder, lowering his voice in a teasing tone, "I know some people who'd like an introduction to you, Colonel."

With a wink, Fernand added, "Yes, they."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Keep them for yourself, you idiot."

Fernand and the officers nearby chuckled, one even calling out:

"If the Colonel's not interested in them, he can consider me."

"Count me in; I wouldn't mind."

"I'm not usually into that, but for you, Colonel, I'd risk jail without complaint!"

(Note: At the time, such inclinations were considered criminal offenses, possibly punishable by imprisonment or chemical castration.)

Charles ignored them, heading straight to General Gallieni, snapping to a salute.

"There's plenty going on, though most of it's good news." Gallieni quickly set down the documents he was signing and handed Charles a folder from his drawer. "Congratulations—you're now a Brigadier General."

A murmur rippled through the command center, with the officers nearby offering their congratulations. The response, however, was more muted than on previous occasions. They seemed almost accustomed to the rapid pace of Charles's promotions by now.

"Additionally," Gallieni continued, "the government has approved a full military uniform redesign. They're currently accepting bids for designs, but it's likely the Saint-Étienne Armory will win. They're fully prepared and have already submitted several suitable uniform options."

"Saint-Étienne Armory?" Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised.

He quickly realized that Steed had probably learned about the uniform replacement "behind the scenes," acting early and decisively to ensure Saint-Étienne was a frontrunner in the bid.

Steed, as usual, knew how to stay ahead.

Gallieni moved on to the next point, spreading a map of the Dardanelles before him. "The Dardanelles campaign isn't progressing smoothly," he said, pointing at the narrow strait. "While we've captured the Gallipoli Peninsula, the enemy has concentrated heavy forces along the isthmus connecting the peninsula to the mainland. Heavily fortified in trench positions, they're holding us at a standstill."

This didn't surprise Charles.

The narrow isthmus between the peninsula and the mainland, only about three kilometers wide, created a bottleneck. The Ottomans could use this choke point to their advantage, layering trench after trench, fortifying with barbed wire and artillery. There was little the Allies could do to push through.

"On the other side of the strait," Gallieni continued, pointing again, "our fleet hasn't managed to clear it. The Ottomans, with German support, have set up a factory to produce naval mines and have sunk three stone-laden transport ships in the channel, effectively blocking our path."

Charles silently acknowledged the clever move.

Sinking ships was much easier than clearing the channel—especially under the constant threat of mines and artillery. Clearing one path could quickly be undone as more ships were sunk to seal it off again.

"What do you make of it?" Gallieni asked, looking to Charles for his opinion.

Charles responded without hesitation. "Nothing we can do, General."

The Dardanelles campaign could only succeed through swift action. By the time the British fleet had finally committed to full-scale operations, a month of delays had already sealed its fate.

This was a strategic failure, and while Charles's tactical successes had held some ground, they couldn't turn the tide. The Ottomans and the Germans had no shortage of ways to block this narrow passage.

Still, Gallieni seemed unwilling to give up. "This is crucial, Brigadier. If we win there, it could end the war."

"I know, General," Charles answered, "but that's equally true for Ypres, Philippeville, Verdun, and many other fronts."

Gallieni's eyes opened in understanding.

The issue wasn't about opening a new front but the trench warfare itself. As long as trench warfare persisted, either side could dig in, fortify with barbed wire, and defend with machine guns, effectively creating an immovable blockade.

Even if the front were extended to the Ottoman Empire, the result would be the same—a continuous stretch of entrenched stalemates.

"Very well," Gallieni sighed, looking resigned. "Then it's a matter of seeing who lasts longer."

Charles felt a pang at his words. The answer was clear—the Allies, as the attacking side, had a long supply chain to maintain, and a protracted conflict was clearly to their disadvantage.

…

After changing into his new uniform in the command center dormitory, Charles returned to the police training base by car.

To his surprise, Tigiani had already received the news. As Charles stepped into the building, the previously quiet hall erupted in cheers, with flowers cascading down on him from above. Tigiani and several officers surrounded him, enthusiastically offering their congratulations.

"How does it feel?" Tigiani asked.

"Better than last time," Charles replied. "At least I didn't pull my gun."

It wasn't exactly the response Tigiani expected.

"No, no," Tigiani gestured toward Charles's new uniform with a grin. "I meant how does it feel to be a Brigadier?"

Charles glanced at the stars on Tigiani's uniform, then asked, "Are you mocking me?"

Tigiani laughed. "My rank is just for show, but yours is well-deserved. If it were me, I'd be proud of it."

If Charles felt anything about the promotion, he didn't show it. While it was an acknowledgement of his accomplishments and signaled he had entered the ranks of generals, Charles knew better than to think it would fundamentally change his situation.

In his struggle against the capitalists, it was all about power and influence. Letting his rank give him a false sense of security would be a costly mistake.

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