Reincarnated: Vive La France

Paris, March 1938

Renaud stepped in, closing the door with care.

He didn't salute.

In this room, the act was unnecessary.

Moreau was bent over a folder, pencil moving in short, deliberate strokes.

"Sit," Moreau said, without looking up.

Renaud took the chair opposite. "You want the latest."

"I want everything," Moreau replied, flipping the page toward him. "Army first."

Renaud leaned forward. "Active divisions are at full strength. The winter conscripts are in place, training accelerated by six weeks. Eastern Corps can be at the Alsace line in forty-eight hours if you give the word."

"Cut that to thirty-six," Moreau said. "We can't have our own slowness undo our advantage."

"It's already being done," Renaud said. "Reserves are quietly rotating through live-fire drills. Ammunition stockpiles for field artillery are at one hundred and ten percent of requirement."

"And mechanized?" Moreau asked.

"The new B1 bis models are arriving in regiment strength. Not fast enough to match the Panzers if they mass, but faster than they expect from us."

"Crew training?"

"Running in Picardy under the guise of agricultural motor trials. Keeps it out of the papers."

Moreau allowed himself a faint smile. "Good."

"Infantry equipment is modernizing," Renaud went on. "MAS-36 rifles are replacing the old Berthiers. Light machine gun production is steady."

"Bayonets?" Moreau asked.

Renaud blinked. "Bayonets?"

"They are the last thing a man holds when the line breaks," Moreau said evenly. "Make sure they're there."

"They're there," Renaud assured him.

Moreau nodded once. "Navy."

"The fleet's in rotation at Toulon, Brest, and Cherbourg. Dunkerque and Strasbourg are at readiness. Richelieu will complete trials by the end of summer."

"And destroyers?" Moreau pressed.

"Two new Le Hardi-class are fitting out in Lorient. Anti-submarine nets in the Channel ports are near completion."

"Concentrate more at Brest," Moreau ordered. "The Mediterranean won't decide this war the Atlantic will. And I want patrols running without gaps between Ireland and Brittany."

Renaud made a note. "Submarine fleet is already shadowing German merchant routes. Quietly."

"Keep it that way," Moreau said. "We don't want a diplomatic note in Geneva we want information."

Renaud turned the page. "Air force. The Bloch MB.152 fighters are coming off the lines faster than expected. Morane-Saulnier deliveries are stable. Pilots are rotating through gunnery training in North Africa to keep it away from prying eyes."

"Bombers?" Moreau asked.

"LeO 451 squadrons are forming now. Range is enough to reach Berlin from Metz."

"That range," Moreau said, "will matter."

Renaud tapped the map. "We're also reinforcing airfields in Reims and Dijon, hardening runways, building new dispersal hangars."

"Excellent," Moreau said. "When the sky opens, it needs to open quickly."

"And our intelligence people?" Moreau asked.

"In Berlin and Prague. Reports say Wehrmacht's main strength is still digesting Austria and the Sudetenland. But their armor's being reequipped with new radios. Communications will be faster than in '36."

"Which means their thrusts will be sharper," Moreau said.

Renaud nodded. "But they're also stretched. Garrisons in Czechoslovakia are tying down men and supply lines."

"That's why Poland is next," Moreau said, his tone certain.

Renaud didn't question it. "You still think this year?"

"This year," Moreau said. "Months. Once Hitler stabilises Czechoslovakia secures the borders, silences what's left of Prague he'll turn east. He can't resist it. Danzig, the Corridor… they itch at him like an old wound."

Renaud kept his eyes on the map. "And when he turns to Poland?"

Moreau's pencil stopped. "Then we turn to Berlin."

Renaud sat back. "We'll be ready."

"We will," Moreau agreed. "But only if we keep the mask in place. Publicly, we continue as we are. Soft voices in Geneva. Headlines about budget deadlocks. Let him believe we are still France of '36."

"And privately," Renaud said, "we keep building."

"Relentlessly," Moreau replied. "Every soldier trained, every tank moving, every runway laid. No pause, no waste."

"Right now," Moreau said, "he thinks we will never act first. That is our weapon."

Renaud closed the folder. "Supplies are being moved at night, under civilian cargo manifests. Coal for the Maginot heating systems, ammunition in wine shipments. We've even been transporting aircraft parts in furniture crates."

"Good," Moreau said without turning. "The less noise we make, the louder the surprise will be."

Renaud looked up. "Eastern rail lines can handle mobilization in under forty-eight hours now. I've tested the timetables."

"Shave it to forty," Moreau said. "Time will be blood."

"It will be done."

Moreau let the curtain fall back into place. "What about training in the colonies?"

"North African units are on field exercises. Senegalese regiments are drilling with French NCOs. All under the banner of 'imperial maneuvers.'"

"They'll be ready for Europe?"

"They'll be ready for war," Renaud said.

There was a pause.

"How are we on fuel?" Moreau asked.

"Sixty days of operations, with civilian reserves to be cut if needed. American shipments are regular."

"Push to ninety days," Moreau said. "If the Atlantic closes, we cannot run dry."

Renaud made another note. "I'll divert storage from civilian refineries."

"Do it quietly," Moreau said. "Every decision we make must still look like indecision from the outside."

Renaud smirked faintly. "You've built an army that can move without anyone realizing it's moving."

"That's the point," Moreau replied. "The first they know of our strength will be when it's too late for them to adjust."

Moreau continued. "He's counting on the same passivity he's seen before. Britain hesitating, France divided. We will give him the appearance of both."

"And when Poland falls into his hands.." Renaud began.

Moreau cut him off. "It won't fall quietly. But if it does, it will bring him to the point where he believes no one can touch him. That's when we strike."

Renaud's tone was steady. "Straight to Berlin."

"Straight," Moreau said. "No half measures. No lines drawn for him to cross again."

Renaud nodded slowly. "Then I'll keep the work moving. No delays."

"Good," Moreau said. "And Renaud.."

"Yes?"

"When the time comes, there will be no warning. When I say go, you move everything at once."

"It'll be ready," Renaud said without hesitation.

Moreau paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "And send a discreet invitation to a man in England. Alan Turing."

Renaud looked puzzled. "Why invite an Englishman?"

Moreau just smiled faintly. "Don't worry. Leave it to me."