I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start Chapter 1 1: Shifting to Military Production is the Best Way

On September 1, 1914, precisely one month after Germany declared war on France, the German forces implented the Schlieffen Plan, advancing swiftly through Belgium and penetrating deep into French territory. At this point, the German vanguard was only about 30 kiloters from Paris, and the French army's efforts to hold back the German right flank had all but failed.

Paris was on the brink of catastrophe!

…

About ten kiloters east of Paris, in the small town of Dawaz by the Marne River, old Francis sat on the couch in his clothes, holding a lit pipe in his right hand, silently watching the flas flicker in the fireplace. His gaze was deep and distant, as though wrestling with a difficult decision.

Seated around him were the two sons of the Bernard family, the eldest, Pierre, and the younger, Deyoka. Neither of them spoke; darkness and silence filled most of the room.

Francis's expression was more rigid than usual. He slowly brought the pipe to his lips, taking a light puff, his white, saber-like mustache twitching rhythmically in the firelight.

Finally, Pierre could hold back no longer and stood up, saying, "Make a decision, Father. Staying here is not a wise choice."

"Governnt officials have already left Paris. This shows they've given up on the city; everyone is fleeing. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late!"

Deyoka, who had been sitting quietly, turned toward his father, leaning forward with a note of urgency in his voice, "Pierre is right, Father. We have to leave. You can't hold back the German army, and nothing is more important than staying alive!"

Calmly, Francis moved the pipe away and exhaled a long stream of smoke. In a hoarse but resolute voice, he replied, "You two didn't live through those tis—I was only twenty back then!"

"Though young, I already owned a textile mill, the largest in Paris."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Just like today, the Germans ca in, took everything they could, and then crowned themselves in Paris with arrogance!"

At this point, Francis coughed a few tis, and Deyoka quickly handed him a glass of water.

Pierre frowned, understanding that his father was referring to the Franco-Prussian War from 43 years earlier. Pierre had been born right after that war, so he hadn't experienced it himself, but every French person knew about that conflict and regarded it as a deep sha.

(Note: The French refer to the Franco-Prussian War as the "Franco-German War".)

After all, France had paid 5 billion francs and ceded Alsace and Lorraine as a result. Since then, every Frenchman had harbored a deep-seated desire to defeat Germany and erase that disgrace!

However…

"There's no point bringing that up now!" Pierre said impatiently. "The main issue is that the Germans are here again, and they'll take our factory just like last ti!"

Francis took a sip of water, setting the glass on the side table. His tone was calm: "Last ti, I abandoned my factory and left. This ti, I intend to stay until the very end!"

After the Franco-Prussian War, Francis had started from scratch, spending nearly half his life building up an agricultural tractor factory. Today, the factory employed over two thousand workers and produced more than 500 tractors each month. This factory was Francis's life's work, sothing he was not willing to give up lightly.

Never!

Pierre looked at Francis in disbelief, perhaps recognizing what so would call a "generation gap." To Pierre, his father's willingness to stay seed almost selfish. At 63, Francis didn't have much ti left, while the younger generation could sell everything and live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

Deyoka tried to reason with him, saying, "Father, if we lose our lives, then keeping the factory, the machines—even money itself—will be aningless…"

Francis only snorted, his expression hardening. They just didn't understand. It wasn't rely about choosing money over life; it was about a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity—one that could double his wealth. In business, the greater the risk, the higher the reward. This was the mont to take that risk!

Regrettably, neither of his sons could see this. They lacked his foresight and resolve, only viewing him as an obstinate old man…

At that mont, a young voice spoke up softly, "Mr. Francis, if you intend to stay, why not raise the stakes a little?"

Francis paused, startled that soone had seen through him. He turned toward the source of the voice in the corner—it was his unacknowledged grandson.

Deyoka quickly interjected, "Be quiet, Charles. This is a matter for adults!"

Turning back to his father, Deyoka explained cautiously, "Camille is with her mother, so I brought Charles along..."

Eighteen years ago, Deyoka had married Camille, a maid, against Francis's wishes. Francis had never truly accepted this marriage, which was why Charles addressed him as "Mr. Francis" instead of "Grandfather."

Ignoring Deyoka, Francis asked the boy, "Well, what do you suggest we do to raise the stakes?"

Deyoka looked at Francis in shock; his father was taking Charles's words seriously.

As Deyoka prepared to speak, Francis silenced him with a look. "Let him talk."

Charles, wrapped in a blanket, took a deep breath, then rose, his mature tone at odds with his young age.

"Sir, as I understand it, next to your tractor factory is a sizable motorcycle factory that recently switched to producing machine guns. Is that correct?"

Francis's eyes lit up. "Yes, the Sidaki Motorcycle Factory!"

They had transitioned to machine-gun production only about two weeks prior. With the outbreak of war, the governnt, realizing that ammunition and firearms production couldn't et frontline demand, began contracting so private companies to produce them. The Sidaki Motorcycle Factory was among the fortunate few to receive governnt orders and equipnt support.

Charles walked over to the fireplace, crouched down, and calmly added a few logs to the fire. "During warti, nothing's more profitable than arms, wouldn't you agree, sir?"

Francis grunted in agreent, though he frowned as he replied, "But what if my reserves are far from enough to buy the factory and its machine-gun production line?"

He was reluctant to admit his lack of liquid assets, though that's exactly what he ant.

Charles didn't call him out on it, but he understood the position of the tractor factory. Two months earlier, a single gunshot in Sarajevo had cast all of Europe under the shadow of war. Farrs and landowners were uncertain about the future ownership of their lands or whether they would be conscripted and sent to battle. Naturally, no one wanted to buy tractors for farming.

With tractors piling up unsold and orders being canceled, the tractor factory was in serious trouble.

Switching to military production was Francis's best way forward!

Charles turned back, one side of his handso face glowing red in the firelight, while the other side was shadowed in darkness. He suggested, "I heard you have two subsidiary factories down south, sir. Why not use those as leverage for an exchange?"

Francis looked stunned. "Those two factories together don't amount to half of what's needed..."

Charles cut him off, "He'll agree to the deal, sir. This is Paris—once the Germans reach here, they won't advance any further."

"In other words, those two factories down south are safe!"

In an instant, Francis understood what Charles was suggesting. Though the two factories were worth only half as much as the motorcycle plant, they were in a safe location. And what could be more valuable than safety during warti?

Francis hesitated for a mont before springing to his feet and swiftly grabbing his bowler hat and coat from the rack. "Give the flashlight, Deyoka!"

"I should go speak to Sidaki. If I wait too long, that fellow might abandon the factory and run!"

Pierre tried to stop him, but Francis had already taken the flashlight handed to him, and he pulled open the door without a backward glance, stepping out.

Pierre and Deyoka stared at each other, dumbfounded. They hadn't expected their father to think of business at a ti like this—or to wager his last bit of safe assets on a gamble.

Deyoka turned toward Charles, his eyes filled with bewildernt. He could barely recognize his own son anymore!

End of Chapter