At the police training base, Charles was overseeing the ongoing combat operations, but there wasn't much to process. The staff—officers, signal operators, typists—were starting to grow idle, as the air battle had yet to fully escalate. The Germans seed to be holding back their new fighter planes, and Charles was content to keep things in a stalemate.
Joffre had also insisted on keeping air and ground operations separate, so Charles had only a limited understanding of the Cambrai front.
Yet, he was familiar with Cambrai's history. It was there that, historically, the British would later launch the first large-scale tank offensive with over two hundred tanks, securing a victory over the Germans.
For now, though, the intel Charles was getting from the front was sketchy at best:
"German forces have reached Cambrai; they appear to be preparing an assault.""Our troops have gone out to et them, deploying outside the town.""Our forces managed to repel the initial German advance, but at great cost. The heavy Saint-Chamond tanks are nearly wiped out!"
Hearing this report, Tijani gave an incredulous huff and picked up a photograph of the Saint-Chamond M21, a snapshot taken by one of the pilots.
"I'm surprised," Tijani remarked. "This thing actually managed to hold back the Germans?"
"It wasn't due to the tank's design," Charles replied. "It was the commander, Christian, who wisely shifted to a defensive strategy just in ti."
Tijani nodded thoughtfully. "In a defensive position, the lack of a turret on the Saint-Chamond M21 becos less of a handicap."
Charles agreed with a nod. They'd narrowly avoided a massacre; otherwise, the battle would have ended in devastating losses, with half of the French First Special Artillery Division likely wiped out.
Now, however, Charles had learned a few critical details:
The 37 mm cannon could penetrate the German tanks' front armor at a distance of 150 ters.The new German tanks could reach speeds of around 10 km/h, possibly faster.The Germans used machine guns to target the weaker side and rear armor of enemy tanks.
Just then, the phone rang—it was General Winter calling from Paris, where he had been anxiously monitoring this "decisive victory." Right now, little was more important than the outco of Cambrai.
"How are things looking?" General Winter asked. "Do you think we're ready?"
"Just about," Charles replied.
Tijani listened, puzzled by what exactly Charles ant by "just about."
"How much ti do you need to prepare?" Winter continued. "One day? Two?"
"Two days," Charles answered, then followed up with a question. "But do you have a way to transfer command to ?"
Charles wasn't doubting Winter's influence; Britain held considerable sway over France's military operations at the ti, so granting him command wouldn't be impossible.
The challenge was to do so seamlessly, without arousing suspicion.
Winter chuckled. "The British reinforcents will be joining soon, Brigadier. That ans we have the authority to choose our allies."
Charles understood instantly and accepted the arrangent.
When he hung up, he noticed Tijani looking at him with curiosity.
"What's going on?" Tijani asked. "Or is this sothing I shouldn't know?"
"Nothing serious," Charles replied calmly. "It's just that it's ti for the First Tank Brigade to go in."
The answer seed simple enough, yet the phrasing intrigued Tijani: what did he an by "it's ti for the First Tank Brigade to go in"?
Was all of this part of Charles's plan from the beginning?
Connecting the dots, Tijani froze in realization, staring at Charles in astonishnt before giving a wry smile and shaking his head. "Well played! You got them all, didn't you? Both the Germans and Joffre..."
Charles shot Tijani a sharp look, silencing him imdiately. Tijani quickly raised his hands in surrender. "No, no. I didn't an anything by it—I know nothing."
He then added with a knowing smile, leaning in close and whispering, "I'm glad I'm not your enemy, Brigadier."
Back at Cambrai, Christian had managed to pull his forces back to the town itself. It was the only way to preserve what remained of the First Special Artillery Division.
But he had barely returned to his command post when Joffre called, his voice boiling with anger. "What happened out there? Why did you fall back?"
"General!" Christian tried to explain, "Our losses were severe; the heavy Saint-Chamonds are nearly wiped out—"
"I'm aware of that!" Joffre snapped, cutting him off. "But didn't they manage to slow the enemy down? We still have the M21s, don't we?"
Then Joffre launched into a relentless rebuke, his voice seething with frustration and offering no rcy:
"You missed a perfect opportunity for victory, Christian!"
"If you'd pressed the attack, you'd have won by now. The fact that your defensive line held back the Germans proves it."
"All you had to do was advance—boldly, relentlessly! Isn't that what I ordered?"
Christian was left speechless. Did they genuinely not understand the flaws of the M21s? Or did they understand and simply choose to ignore them, demanding a reckless offensive at any cost?
Christian wanted to believe it was the forr—that it was only a case of outdated intel or lack of tactical understanding. Otherwise, he was being asked to throw his soldiers' lives away without purpose.
Joffre's voice cut through his thoughts, barking out fresh orders:
"Now, while the Germans are still unprepared, I want you to advance!"
"There's no ti to hesitate, Christian. The fruits of victory are right in front of you—all you have to do is seize them!"
Christian's mind raced. We're the ones who are unprepared, you fool, he thought bitterly. And that so-called fruit of victory is just as likely to explode in our hands.
But he kept his thoughts to himself, knowing that arguing would only lead to further reprimands.
Refusing orders would an a court-martial.
Following them could an the death of both himself and his entire division.
Christian was caught in an impossible situation. Desperate, he took a chance: "General, I will advance, but this ti I'll need air support. So I'll need to consult with Charles."
Eager for a decisive victory—one that would make waves no matter the cost—Joffre agreed without hesitation. "Fine, but quickly! The Germans won't wait around."
Relieved, Christian ordered a radio operator to send a ssage to Charles.
The ssage was brief but said it all: "Can we survive this?"
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