Charles's command post was located in an armored reconnaissance vehicle. It had no overhead cover, leaving them exposed to falling snowflakes and biting winds, causing everyone to shiver from the cold.
However, Charles knew this exposure was necessary.
Although a canvas cover could shield them from snow and wind, it would significantly reduce visibility and could obstruct a quick escape if the vehicle caught fire or was attacked. On the battlefield, nothing was more crucial than safety—everything else was secondary.
Charles was currently eating his lunch—a piece of dark bread captured from the Germans, frozen hard like a rock. It had to be ward in the mouth before it was chewable.
Tijani handed Charles a telegram, his expression openly enthusiastic and proud. "The Germans have delivered us yet another batch of supplies—more than twenty trucks filled with ammunition and food!"
Charles took the telegram, reading that the lead tank units had unexpectedly encountered a German supply convoy. The Germans surrendered after a brief exchange of fire, leaving their supplies and trucks completely intact.
Incidents like this had beco common. Supply convoys kept running straight into French forces, quickly replenishing the once-scarce resources of the First Armored Division. At least for now, food shortages were no longer an issue.
"I heard that Hasselt is a major supply hub for the Germans?" Charles asked.
"That's correct," Tijani replied, nodding. "German rail lines run directly into Hasselt, and they've built extensive underground warehouses there to store their supplies."
This strategic arrangent was a direct consequence of Charles's earlier air dominance, which had severely disrupted German logistics. To avoid constant bombing raids, the Germans avoided extending their rail lines directly to the frontline cities, instead distributing supplies at night by trucks from Hasselt.
"Good," Charles said, studying Hasselt on the map. "Issue orders: the troops must be prepared to march through the night. We must reach Hasselt before dawn tomorrow."
"Yes, General," Tijani responded imdiately, passing on the order. He understood that speed was critical—the sooner they arrived, the less ti the enemy would have to prepare or receive reinforcents, greatly increasing their chance of swift victory.
Just then, a car approached quickly from behind, honking its horn repeatedly as it caught up to Charles's armored vehicle.
Charles and Tijani exchanged puzzled looks, only to see King Albert I leaning out the car window, eagerly waving at them. "Hey, General, it's ! I just got off the plane and ca straight here!"
Charles and Tijani shared a glance again, this ti expressing astonishnt and concern.
King Albert had just committed at least three critical errors:
First, he was riding in a highly conspicuous civilian car, making himself an obvious target on the battlefield. If any German scouts spotted him, they would imdiately realize soone important was inside.
Second, by loudly calling out "General" and waving at Charles openly, he could have inadvertently revealed the position of Charles's command post to hidden enemy snipers or patrols.
Third, Albert was wearing an extrely conspicuous uniform: a high-peaked cap trimd with gold, elaborate leafy embroidery on his tall collar, flashy yellow shoulder decorations, and a prominent dal on his chest—overall resembling a parade uniform rather than combat attire.
This type of appearance was dangerous, attracting attention from all directions.
Tijani cautiously looked around for threats. Finding none, he turned back to Charles, remarking with a mixture of relief and contempt, "Do you really think he's suited to command the Belgian forces?"
Charles gave a resigned sigh and ordered the vehicle to stop. Quietly, he responded to Tijani's criticism, "Yes, Major, no one is more suitable than him."
Tijani thought Charles was being sarcastic, prepared to retort sharply, but King Albert was already approaching the vehicle, so he kept quiet, rely curling his lip slightly in disapproval.
In Tijani's opinion, the king belonged safely in the rear, stabilizing morale—not near the battlefield.
"My dear friend!" Albert I eagerly embraced Charles upon boarding the armored car, enthusiastically patting Tijani's shoulder as well. Turning back, he grasped Charles's hand firmly, his eyes full of gratitude. "I knew you would lead us to victory over the Germans, General. I never doubted you, nor did my soldiers!"
"Your Majesty," Charles promptly removed his helt, offering it directly to the king. "If you truly wish us to defeat the Germans, you'll have to put this on."
Albert hesitated, montarily embarrassed. "Of course, General. Forgive for the oversight. But I can't take your helt—I can surely get my own..."
Albert paused, suddenly rembering Belgian forces hadn't yet received steel helts.
"Take it," Charles insisted firmly. "My helt is no different from anyone else's. My aide can fetch another."
Charles urgently wanted Albert to replace that gaudy, gold-trimd officer's cap imdiately—it stood out dangerously in an open vehicle.
"Very well," Albert agreed, reluctantly replacing his cap with Charles's helt.
However, Charles wasn't done. He sent away Albert's conspicuous car, removed the king's dals, cut away the bright shoulder decorations and flashy gold trim, and gave him a plain white cloak, finally satisfied only when the king looked no different from an ordinary officer.
Albert, intelligent enough to grasp Charles's intentions, cooperated without complaint.
"General, what exactly should we do next?" Albert inquired earnestly.
"You must know our objective by now," Charles replied calmly.
"Of course," Albert nodded, pointing confidently to the map. "Hasselt."
This was straightforward—the direction of the advance left no doubt.
"First," Charles instructed, "I need your troops to establish a secure supply line stretching from Namur to Hasselt."
"Understood!" Albert responded promptly, fully comprehending the task at hand. Building a supply line was different from defending a frontline; it required securing villages and towns along the route, ensuring safety for supply convoys.
Albert had thoroughly studied Charles's prior campaigns around Antwerp, understanding this logistical role perfectly.
"Second," Charles continued, "I need you to send small units of militia ahead, infiltrating Hasselt to encourage the local population to rise up and assist our attack."
"No problem," Albert replied confidently. Such guerrilla and infiltration tactics were already his specialty.
Realization dawned on Tijani. He glanced between Charles and Albert, finally understanding Charles's earlier point: King Albert was indeed the ideal commander, not because of his battlefield prowess, but because everywhere along their advance, the Belgian people would believe their own king was personally leading the liberation.
(End of Chapter 609)
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