Galin dropped the report onto the desk and marched straight to Charles, his voice stiff and loaded with restrained fury:
"Whatever you're trying to do, General, I suggest you stop!"
Charles slowly lowered his newspaper, casting a cold glance at Galin.
"It seems you've forgotten your place, General. And also who you're speaking to."
Galin froze for half a second. He had beco so accustod to commanding authority that he had montarily forgotten that Charles was, by rank and appointnt, the commander of the Sixth Army Group.
Still, he refused to back down.
Yes, Charles had the title. But Galin held real power. He was older, a veteran, and had Parliant's backing. And wasn't he often called the smartest general in France?
"You know exactly what I an, General," Galin said, his tone rising.
"Our enemy is Germany, not ourselves. What you're doing is utterly irresponsible. It's a nightmare for this army!"
Charles gave the paper a flick, folding it twice and laying it flat on the table.
"First, I don't know what you're referring to."
"Second, I completely agree that our enemy is Germany."
"But if we're talking about nightmares—what could be worse than the Som, General?"
Galin went silent.
The implication was clear: under incompetent leadership like Galin's and Parliant's, the army would continue to suffer disasters like the Som. Charles, on the other hand, had proven himself to be the one man capable of delivering victory with minimal loss.
By every tric—casualties, results, even national interest—it was Galin and his supporters who were irresponsible.
Charles smirked.
These people dare talk about responsibility?
Galin, seeing he had lost the argunt, snarled:
"I won't let you get away with this."
Charles raised his eyebrows, smiled faintly, and spread his hands.
"By all ans—try."
Then, almost casually, he returned to reading.
Galin stord back to his desk. But before he even sat down, he barked:
"Issue the order: All offensive operations are suspended!"
He shot a gloating glance at Charles, thinking he had won.
Now that we're not attacking, your little sche can't continue. Let's see how you deal with that.
But Charles just kept smiling.
You really think that'll stop it?
…
Half an hour later, a staff officer ca running in with a report.
"General! German forces have launched a surprise attack on our front lines. They targeted the command post of the 72nd Infantry Division. General Donadier is critically wounded. Two regintal commanders and seven staff officers are dead!"
Galin went pale.
It hit him like a cannon blast: just because we're not attacking doesn't an the Germans won't.
And if the Germans do attack — and the troops are already using "unspoken rules" — they won't hesitate to take out every officer they don't trust.
They'd do it under cover of combat. With German weapons. With complete deniability.
Once again, the German stormtroopers would be the perfect excuse.
Galin looked over at Charles — who was still reading, still calm, with a faint smile that now looked almost mocking.
The truth settled hard in Galin's stomach: there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Not anymore.
Even if he wanted to stop it, it was already too late.
The "unspoken rule" had gained montum, and it was spreading throughout the Sixth Army.
Christine's artillery division had simply gone first. The rest would follow.
The soldiers didn't want politics. They didn't want revolution. They just wanted to survive and win.
And they knew only Charles could deliver that.
If soone stood between them and Charles — then that person had to go.
…
Paris, 16th arrondissent.
Clenceau, age seventy-four, was spending Christmas Eve at his family villa, enjoying a large holiday gathering.
Over twenty people filled the long table. n, won, and children laughed and ate under the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights. The table was covered in delicious food, and the kids ran around between courses.
Clenceau sat at the head of the table. His cheeks were red from wine, and his eyes glead with joy.
To be able to gather with family during warti — that, to him, was true pride.
He had full confidence that no matter how long this war lasted, he would always protect them.
Just then, his butler arrived with a silver tray and quietly placed a telegram before him.
Clenceau paused.
The ssage was from Belgium.
"Massive officer casualties in the Sixth Army Group during combat."
The butler leaned in and whispered:
"Sir, Brigadier General Xavier has been confird killed. In Jambes."
Clenceau's face darkened instantly.
He glanced to his right — Xavier had been his youngest son.
As he considered how to break the news to his family, another servant rushed over.
"Sir, Pri Minister Briand requests your presence at City Hall — imdiately."
…
Back in City Hall, Briand hadn't left all evening.
A lifelong bachelor and ascetic, he had no family ties. He planned to spend Christmas Eve monitoring the "Christmas Offensive."
(Note: Briand never married and was known for his austere lifestyle.)
By 8 p.m., having finished his dinner, he stood at the window with a glass of wine, gazing out over the glowing lights of Paris — The City of Light.
As the bells of Notre-Da rang in the distance, he began ntally reviewing his accomplishnts.
His proudest mont?
Stripping Charles of control over the Sixth Army.
"It was the right thing to do," he murmured.
"Otherwise, France would be groaning under another dictator. I must defend her freedom."
Just then, his secretary rushed in with urgent steps and handed over a telegram:
"General Galin reports significant officer casualties during combat."
Briand stiffened.
He felt instinctively that sothing wasn't right.
He read the telegram in silence, then turned sharply to the secretary.
"Bring Clenceau. Now."
Before Clenceau arrived, Briand sent a return telegram to Galin:
"Is Charles involved?"
The reply ca quickly:
"Unclear, sir. He appears uninvolved. We have no evidence."
"How could this happen?"
"It may be tradition, sir."
"Tradition?"
"Yes," Galin wrote.
"So call it the law of the jungle. Others, natural selection."
"In peaceti, soldiers deal with problems quietly. But in war… it escalates."
"They eliminate threats — especially officers they believe endanger their survival."
The ssage was chilling.
If the system won't protect them, they protect themselves.
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