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

Chapter 75: The Antwerp Fortress

In the airport's waiting lounge, Grévy and Armand sat across from each other at a small table, sipping coffee and watching the runway. A two-seater Avro biplane was taxiing on the runway, and before long, it took off and disappeared into the cloudy sky.

"A clever plan," Armand remarked, raising his coffee cup in a toast to Grévy. "We finally managed to send him somewhere dangerous."

Grévy watched the plane's ascent, a faint hint of regret in his gaze as it grew smaller and eventually vanished. If only Charles had agreed to join the right-wing faction. With his talents, they could dominate the left completely. Charles had innovative ideas that were both daring and groundbreaking—concepts even the left's industrialists couldn't keep up with.

But if they couldn't control him, they had to destroy him. Those ideas in his mind could one day spell the end of the entire right-wing agenda.

Armand broke the silence with a question: "Why not just arrange a convenient 'accident' or a technical failure with the plane? Why go to such lengths to actually send him to the Antwerp fortress?"

"That would raise suspicion, Armand," Grévy replied coldly. "Everyone knows we have a conflict of interest with him. The leftists are watching us, as is the military—they're all hoping for a mistake, something they can use to oust us from Parliament."

Armand frowned. He gestured in the direction the plane had disappeared. "How is this any different?"

"It's very different," Grévy answered, stirring his coffee with a slight look of pain in his eyes. "Now, it's Gallieni sending him to rescue the fortress at Antwerp, and if Charles dies there, he'll be remembered as having fallen heroically. The press will celebrate him as a hero, not as a victim of some hidden conspiracy involving the right-wing faction."

Armand finally understood. It was all about how the story would play out. It was much like the case with Joffre: everyone knew he had blundered catastrophically, yet no one dared remove him from command.

In a sense, Joffre's one accomplishment was keeping his cool—something that newspapers had spun into a heroic quality, calling him "calm Joffre, the tranquilizer of France." He had become a symbol, a legend. Many in France depended on that illusion for reassurance in the war against Germany.

If the Joffre myth crumbled, so might the spirit of the people who relied on it. The resulting crisis could spark an internal collapse.

Similarly, Charles had become a beacon of hope. If he died in Antwerp, his death would inspire the people of France to pour their anger into the war effort, targeting Germany rather than the internal conflicts that could threaten France's stability.

Armand gave a faint nod. The usually irreverent smile faded from his face as he took in the true depth of Grévy's thinking, a realization of his own limitations dawning on him.

He glanced cautiously at Grévy, who sat brooding over his cup of coffee, his gaze lost in thought. Armand couldn't shake the feeling that if, someday, their interests clashed, he would be no match for Grévy. He might even fall at his hand.

But luckily for Armand, the right-wing faction seemed nowhere close to victory, so he didn't have to worry about that just yet. With a faint smile, he returned to his coffee.

On the biplane, Charles felt the cold wind battering his face as the engine roared around him. The cockpit was open, and everything from his shoulders up was exposed to the rushing wind. He was certain that if they were flying any faster, his nose would have blown right off.

Soon, he caught sight of a large, balloon-like structure floating amid the clouds. The balloon, shaped like a massive cylinder, drifted lazily like a colossal, sleepy giant turning in its slumber.

Charles squinted. At first, he thought it was a French balloon, but then he noticed the German insignia emblazoned on the side. "A German observation balloon!" he shouted, startled.

"What?" the pilot called back, barely able to hear him.

"It's an enemy balloon!" Charles repeated in a panic, pointing toward the balloon. He assumed the pilot, still smelling faintly of alcohol, couldn't tell friend from foe as they approached the German balloon.

But the pilot simply shrugged. "Yeah? So what? Want to take a closer look?"

Charles suddenly remembered: in the early days of the war, aircraft had little to no combat capability. Planes and observation balloons were used mostly for reconnaissance, and even if they encountered enemy craft, they sometimes simply waved to each other in passing.

Just then, a German plane flew overhead. The two planes didn't exchange greetings as in the stories Charles had heard, but they passed each other as if they were two cars crossing on a road—just an ordinary occurrence.

"Relax, Lieutenant!" The pilot glanced back at him. "If there's any safe place, it's right up here. There's nothing they can do to you—not even the enemy down there."

Charles followed the pilot's gaze downwards. Only then did he realize they were flying over a battlefield.

Below, artillery shells exploded in bursts of gray smoke, mushrooming across the ground. The cannon blasts were muffled by the wind and engine noise. Squads of soldiers, resembling ant-sized clusters, charged back and forth in trenches, filling the battlefield with a haze that blurred air and earth together.

Feeling a chill, Charles turned to the pilot and asked, "Where exactly are we going? Are we really headed to the Antwerp fortress?"

"Of course," the pilot replied, giving him a sidelong glance. "Where else would we be going?"

"Is Antwerp...in occupied territory?" Charles asked, his voice betraying his growing concern.

"No, not occupied," the pilot responded. "It's in northern Belgium, near the coast."

If the wind weren't so intense, Charles might have pulled out a map to check, but he was left trying to visualize their destination in his mind. Northern Belgium… he knew German forces had already broken through Belgian defenses, which meant that Antwerp had to be surrounded.

So he was flying into enemy territory to scout?

The only solace he could find was that Antwerp was "near the coast." This likely meant the fortress wasn't completely cut off by German forces. He knew Britain controlled the seas, with German naval forces under blockade.

Perhaps it's the plane that makes people feel safe, Charles thought, trying to reassure himself. Maybe people simply assumed planes were untouchable in this era, Gallieni included, which was why he had assigned Charles the mission.

But he hadn't yet realized that this mission wasn't Gallieni's doing at all.

(End of Chapter)

Friends, if you liked the novel you can subscribe to my p*treon