I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start Chapter 417: The Ammunition Depot

This wasn't luck on Charles's part—he never relied on luck to win.

Through "The Lady in White," he learned that the German unit in Brussels was a hastily ford reserve division, mostly composed of untrained soldiers who would soon be split up to reinforce frontline troops. This provided the perfect cover.

So Charles ordered "The Lady in White" to forge authentic-looking IDs and uniforms. The IDs were so detailed they included real addresses and personal information, but these "Germans" had actually died during the first Battle of Cambrai; only their unit numbers were changed to match the Brussels garrison.

This group was led by Lucaku, a guerrilla sub-commander. Before joining the resistance, Lucaku had served as a Belgian army lieutenant and commanded an artillery battery at the fortress of Liège. His battery had been destroyed by German "Big Bertha" artillery.

That mory was forever burned into Lucaku's mind. Around the campfire, he would tell his comrades about it, his eyes shadowed with fear:

"The worst part wasn't dying; it was waiting to die," he'd say.

"We were holed up in that dark fortress, our guns couldn't reach the enemy—but theirs could reach us."

"We had no choice but to watch them line up their sights, firing shell after shell, until the fortress was finally hit…"

Thirty n from his platoon had been buried under the rubble of the collapsed fortress, and it took days to unearth their bodies. Lucaku had miraculously survived as the sole survivor.

With a self-mocking smile, he would say, "The one good thing about it is that nothing scares anymore. Nothing could be worse than that."

But even now, waiting with twenty of his n in a storage room of the textile factory, Lucaku couldn't ignore the heavy weight of responsibility pressing down on him. His palms were sweaty from anxiety, not for his own life, but because of the importance of this mission. If they couldn't destroy the ammunition depot, the German forces in Brussels would block Charles's advance.

What would happen then?

Brussels would remain unliberated, the Germans wouldn't be encircled, and Charles's forces might even find themselves surrounded here.

The consequences were unthinkable.

At that mont, a bell rang from the wall—a signal from their contact to let them know it was ti to act.

Lucaku didn't hesitate. He led his n out of the storage room one by one, scanning the area carefully. They moved casually, carrying their rifles as they headed toward the ammunition depot.

At the entrance, a German lieutenant stopped them, inspecting Lucaku's ID and asking a few routine questions. Satisfied, he waved them through.

Just as Lucaku was about to step forward, the lieutenant called out, "You're going in there with your rifles?"

The lieutenant gestured toward their guns.

Lucaku realized they were expected to leave their weapons behind.

Quickly analyzing the situation, he noted that they were still fifty ters from the ammunition depot. The area was guarded by over thirty soldiers and machine guns, and the depot itself was underground. Launching an attack now would be suicidal—they'd be mowed down long before they reached the depot door.

Without further thought, Lucaku nodded respectfully, replying, "Yes, sir," as he and his n placed their rifles on a nearby rack. His n exchanged uncertain glances but followed his lead, stacking their weapons one by one.

The German lieutenant raised no suspicions, muttering, "New recruits…they know nothing."

So of Lucaku's n began to panic, thinking, Without guns, what do we do now?

But Lucaku remained calm, leading them onward until they reached the depot entrance. With a casual deanor, he presented a requisition form to the warehouse clerk. "We're here for ammunition on Colonel Leo's orders. He wants us to start grenade training, since we've heard the French are bringing in tanks."

The clerk gave an understanding nod and took the form. "So you need grenades first?"

"Yes," Lucaku confird. "Our transport vehicle is on its way."

The guerrillas quickly caught on to Lucaku's plan. Grenades didn't require guns—just pull the pin, and they were ready to fight.

Each guerrilla ntally prepared themselves.

As the crates of grenades were brought out, Lucaku's n pretended to inspect them. They opened the boxes and casually removed the safety covers from the grenades, readying them for use.

"What do you think you're doing?" the warehouse clerk exclaid. "This isn't a training ground…"

Lucaku said nothing, pulling the pin on a grenade and tossing it at the guards.

The guards and the warehouse workers could only watch in horror as the grenades exploded. Many of the workers were unard support staff, hastily recruited without proper training, and they stood frozen in shock, paralyzed by the sudden violence unfolding before them.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

German guards cried out in pain as explosions ripped through their ranks. The surviving guards quickly regrouped, with the lieutenant blowing his whistle and a squad of reinforcents charging in.

"What now?" one of Lucaku's n shouted, throwing another grenade. Without rifles, they were in a vulnerable position, and taking the entire depot seed impossible with the German guards and workers barricaded inside.

"Cover !" Lucaku yelled.

His n looked at each other in confusion. How could they provide cover without firearms?

But when they saw Lucaku binding several grenades together with string, his intentions beca clear.

His team hurled grenades one after another, barely pausing, so even clutching a bundle of grenades as they leaped toward the enemy's cover, forcing them back.

Lucaku didn't waste ti. Pressing himself against the depot door, he threw one of his improvised explosive bundles inside. After a loud explosion, screams and chaotic shouts erupted from within as people scrambled in panic.

…

anwhile, in Brussels, Major General Halil was studying the city map, discussing defense strategies with his staff.

Colonel Effrey suggested they fortify the main streets. "Especially the key intersections. We can set up sandbags; we'd have a few lines of defense within thirty minutes."

But Halil shook his head. "No, Colonel. The enemy is bringing tanks, and a sandbag line won't hold against them."

"But what other choice do we have?" Effrey asked.

"We use the buildings," Halil pointed toward the buildings lining the streets. "Each building will be a line of defense."

Effrey's face turned pale with worry. "But, sir, that would drag civilians into the conflict…"

Halil waved the concern aside. "That's not our problem."

At that mont, they heard a sudden burst of grenade explosions.

Both n froze, instinctively looking toward the direction of the noise.

"Training exercises?" Halil asked, frowning.

But Effrey recognized the sound of gunfire and whistles, his face turning even paler. "No, sir. It's coming from the ammunition depot!"

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