The remainder of the battle turned in France's favor with the arrival of reinforcents from the 5th Army.
Major Browning's unit, with its re 300 soldiers, had managed to drive thousands of Germans into retreat. Still, there was only so much they could handle; pursuing such a large force could easily overwhelm them if they weren't careful.
The "tank-supported infantry advance" tactic had one critical flaw: if German soldiers decided to launch a fierce counterattack and closed in for hand-to-hand combat, the "tanks" would be useless. Thankfully, the German soldiers didn't understand this weakness. Overco by fear of these "monsters," they chose to flee, even though the only path ahead was a dead end.
Then the French reinforcents arrived. Driven by their relentless training to "attack, attack, and attack again," they surged past the tanks toward the retreating German soldiers. Many glanced at the strange armored vehicles with a mix of fear and curiosity, and only after realizing these "machines" were theirs did they confidently press forward.
Shouts, scuffles, and gunfire broke out. Bayonets, rifle butts, even rocks—everything beca a weapon.
Everywhere, French soldiers grappled with the Germans. They were easy to distinguish, with their bright red pants, a stark contrast to the German uniforms.
Charles was amazed by the Germans' fighting spirit; the French forces, charging forward like a flood, hit an unexpected wall as the Germans tried to hold the line.
This wasn't a force to be underestimated. Without the support of the "tanks," defeating them would have cost the French ten tis the casualties.
But even their resilience couldn't alter the inevitable outco. Only a few hundred Germans held the trench lines, while thousands of French soldiers poured in wave after wave, eventually overwhelming them.
Reaching the riverbank, the French soldiers raised their rifles, pinning down German forces on the opposite shore and shooting at the fleeing Germans still trapped in the water.
With every shot, German soldiers fell into the freezing river. Most barely had ti to scream before cold river water filled their mouths. The river grew eerily silent, and it beca impossible to tell if the n had been killed by bullets or drowned by the rushing water.
French forces soon set up machine guns, spraying bullets that bounced off the water's surface, creating bursts of blood and leaving bodies floating like dead fish, drifting along the red-stained river.
General von Kluck watched grimly. He had been so sure of victory; capturing the bridgehead had seed like the decisive mont.
But the situation had spun out of control, and before he knew it, the Germans were in full retreat.
"What happened?" von Kluck asked, puzzled. "Did enemy reinforcents arrive?"
He hadn't noticed the strange "iron boxes" at the riverbank.
Neither had his officers, though they knew they had to act.
One surviving officer was brought before von Kluck—the highest-ranking officer the staff could locate.
This lieutenant, bloodied and covered in mud, shivered uncontrollably, gasping from both pain and terror.
Von Kluck looked at him with disdain, thinking, This is an officer from the 'Iron First Battalion'?
"What happened?" von Kluck demanded, struggling to suppress his impulse to have the man shot for cowardice.
"General!" the lieutenant stamred, his voice trembling. "The enemy has a new weapon. It's impenetrable; we couldn't break through it, but it mowed us down with machine guns…"
He glanced fearfully back across the river, where one of the "iron boxes" appeared, rolling slowly into sight. The lieutenant pointed frantically, "It's over there! That monster!"
Von Kluck raised his binoculars, peering in the direction the lieutenant indicated, and saw the strange object looming across the river.
His expression hardened. What on earth is that thing? Could it really have turned the tide?
After a mont, he turned to his staff officer. "Take him away. Make him tell you everything he knows, every detail. Don't miss a word."
"Yes, sir!" The staff officer signaled two soldiers, who promptly seized the trembling lieutenant, leading him away to gather more information.
Across the river, the French soldiers were finishing up, cheering as they waved at the last of the fleeing Germans. They appeared to be celebrating, maybe even taunting the retreating forces.
The German soldiers on the north bank stared back with dark expressions.
This defeat was a first for them in this war. The ground between the armies—the shore, the bridge, the river—was littered with German corpses, four or five thousand dead in re monts.
And to make the humiliation worse, these soldiers who had humiliated them were from the 5th Army—the sa French soldiers they had been chasing and defeating.
The tables had finally turned.
...
Charles and Joseph hurried to the battlefield, fearing that Matthew's "tank" might be one of those stuck in the trench.
If a tank was trapped in a trench, it could easily be shot by German soldiers at close range—not a trivial threat.
But they quickly breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Matthew climbing out of his tank, waving proudly to the French soldiers, who cheered and hailed him as a hero.
Matthew had always been flashy, unreserved in flaunting every accomplishnt he made.
But he had earned this mont.
"He's safe," Charles exhaled, relieved. He couldn't imagine how he would face Joseph if anything had happened to Matthew.
Joseph, sensing Charles's concern, said, "Even if sothing had happened, I wouldn't have blad you, Master Charles."
"He fought for France; it's not your burden to bear."
"You—you saved us all."
Suddenly, a soldier shouted, "Hey! That's Master Charles! He invented this iron beast that won us the battle!"
All eyes turned to Charles, and the crowd erupted in even louder cheers. Soldiers surged forward, eager to shake his hand.
"It's an honor, Master Charles!"
"Thank you! You saved us! You turned the tide!"
"You're our hero!"
The soldiers' demands were simple. They respected whoever could lead them to victory because that ant they would live another day.
Charles caught sight of Major Browning in the crowd, and they exchanged a knowing look and nod.
Before the battle, Charles and Browning had agreed that Browning would take charge of the training, command, and tactical decisions.
Initially, Browning had refused.
"This was all your work!" Browning had protested angrily. "I'm not taking credit for it!"
Charles had countered, "If they know I did all of this, what do you think will happen?"
Browning paused, realizing the problem. "They might conscript you, even though you're not of age."
"Exactly," Charles replied. "I don't want that. So…"
Reluctantly, Browning had nodded. "Fine, I'll do it. But if it ever cos down to it, I'll make sure these honors are returned to you."
After a brief pause, he had added, "I'll also instruct my n to keep their story straight."
Thus, one of the soldiers had called out, "He invented this iron beast!"
Compared to that, Charles's tactical skills seed inconsequential.
Charles was content to accept the title of "inventor." Especially since this invention had helped secure a victory for the French army.
This reputation would build Charles a good na in France, positioning him favorably within the French arms industry.
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