I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start Chapter 617 617: The Price of War

Pétain and Foch both sent telegrams expressing their "trust" in Charles, one after the other.

Pétain congratulated Charles warmly, his tone friendly and fatherly:

"Another victory that has drawn worldwide attention, Lieutenant General. I am proud of you, and France is proud of you."

"Additionally, I've heard they're nominating you for Commander-in-Chief."

"It's one of the few decisions by Parliant that I wholeheartedly support. In fact, I believe you are the most suitable candidate, without question—even compared to the current Commander-in-Chief."

Pétain subtly stabbed Foch in the back with this carefully worded praise.

…

On the surface, Foch maintained his skepticism toward Charles, publishing an article in the Journal des Mérites subtly implying that Charles' victory was mostly due to chance, suggesting that it was not representative of normal warfare.

However, privately, he sent a secret ssage to Charles via Weygand:

"A spectacular battle, Lieutenant General. Congratulations. On another note, I think your current success at sea is even more crucial."

Charles nodded silently in agreent.

No matter how many victories he achieved on land, these were ultimately tactical successes. Parliant could always find various excuses to restrain him.

Moreover, completely defeating Germany would not actually be beneficial for Charles. After all, as the saying goes, "Once the birds are gone, the bow is put away." With Germany defeated, Parliant could openly turn against him without restraint.

In contrast, control over mariti supply lines was fundantally strategic. It gave Charles decisive control over materials, thus putting the lifelines of all capitalists—including Parliant itself—into his hands.

…

On the southern banks of the Som River, Foch sat behind his desk, staring blankly at a detailed map displaying troop deploynts of British, French, and German forces along the Som.

In the distance, artillery thundered continuously, mixed with endless gunfire.

Once again, British forces launched an attack on German positions.

Ever since Charles' victory at Hasselt, the British seed to have gone mad, repeatedly launching furious assaults against German defenses. They had even committed the imported "Cal" fighters acquired from Charles directly into combat.

Foch knew precisely why they were doing this.

Britain's standing as the world's foremost power had suffered an unprecedented blow. Their colonial forces had already begun losing faith—not only the African units but even forces traditionally known for their loyalty, such as those from India and Australia, increasingly preferred cooperating with French troops rather than with the British.

Even though these colonial troops were equipped entirely with British arms and equipnt.

But Foch was thinking neither of this nor of the stalemated battlefield of the Som. His thoughts lingered instead on Charles himself.

Foch pondered a single, crucial question: If Charles truly beca the Commander-in-Chief, could he accept this outco?

From a personal standpoint, Foch found this possibility extrely difficult, perhaps even impossible to accept, as it represented a comprehensive rejection of his life's work.

The tactical doctrine currently guiding the French army was Foch's "Offensive Theory." Even with the ergence of Pétain's "Defensive Theory" and Charles' "Adaptability Theory," the "Offensive Theory" remained dominant. Foch was still the most important architect of France's military doctrine, an irreplaceable figure.

However, if Charles were to beco Commander-in-Chief and vigorously implent his "Adaptability Theory," Foch's era would co to an abrupt end, possibly much sooner than anticipated.

Yet…

Was this truly the most important consideration?

Foch raised his head, listening carefully to the direction from which artillery shells and gunfire echoed.

The British tactics were classic examples of offensive doctrine. It ant death, stalemate, and aningless attrition.

Suddenly, Foch felt like a criminal—a murderer, an executioner. He was sending countless lives into aningless slaughter simply to uphold the correctness of his own tactical theories, turning thousands of young n into corpses, including the enemy's soldiers.

On the contrary, Charles' tactics could encircle and capture enemies with minimal casualties. Charles' strategy determined outcos decisively, yet allowed the majority of soldiers—on both sides—to survive.

No, I cannot continue like this.

Charles is right. His theories, his tactics, represent the future of warfare. Anyone standing in opposition would inevitably fail.

Therefore, I must support him—no matter how difficult it is personally.

"General!"

Colonel Bruce stood before Foch, snapping a salute. After a mont with no response from Foch, Bruce called out once more, uncertainly.

Startled from his thoughts, Foch looked up abruptly. Noticing Bruce standing stiffly in front of him, Foch paused briefly, then asked expressionlessly, with a hint of mockery:

"What instructions do you have, Colonel?"

Colonel Bruce, aide to British General Haig, spoke fluent French and had been permanently stationed on the southern banks of the Som. Officially, he coordinated operations between British and French forces; in reality, he conveyed the British Expeditionary Force's "demands" to Foch.

Foch could never forget Bruce's hypocritical face. Outwardly, Bruce always maintained a gentlemanly manner, but his eyes conveyed deep contempt. His voice had previously carried veiled threats: "Depending on circumstances, we might supply your troops with necessary materials, General. But you must understand, during warti, sotis not even money can guarantee supplies."

Now, Bruce stood again before Foch, all politeness and humility.

"It's like this," Colonel Bruce said, retrieving a docunt from his briefcase and handing it over. "We would like your forces to coordinate closely with ours. This is tomorrow's battle plan."

Foch glanced at the docunt. It required French artillery units to move forward to the front lines to bombard the German defenses from the flank, across the Som River.

At first, Foch frowned deeply, then suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter:

"What a perfect battle plan!"

Colonel Bruce clearly understood the biting sarcasm behind Foch's words, yet remained composed and unaffected:

"I'm glad you agree, General."

"We all know the French line has advanced roughly three kiloters ahead of the original positions, while our British lines remain further back."

"Therefore, the French army rely needs to position artillery at the front lines to shell enemy defenses—and even enemy artillery positions—from the flank."

"It would greatly support the British offensive."

(Note: After Charles' previous maneuver along the Som, French lines had pushed forward five kiloters, causing a noticeable imbalance between the north and south banks.)

Foch countered sharply:

"Yes, Colonel, this would indeed greatly support the British offensive. I admit as much."

"But have you considered that once our artillery moves forward and opens fire, they'll imdiately be trapped between German artillery fire from two directions?"

"Our guns and crews could easily be blasted to pieces in re monts."

Colonel Bruce calmly raised an eyebrow, responding evenly:

"That is simply the price of war, is it not, General?"

His words held a double aning—referring not only to warti sacrifices but also the cost of securing British-supplied materials.

A smile slowly spread across Foch's face:

"Indeed, Colonel, that is the price of war. Yet you seem to forget—recently, the French Navy sank twelve German submarines."

As he spoke, Foch tossed a prepared newspaper in front of Colonel Bruce.

Bruce's expression froze for a second, then beca uncertain:

"I'm not sure what you're implying, General."

Foch narrowed his eyes dangerously:

"I wonder what price you British will pay for war, Colonel?"

"With a single command from , your British army might find itself completely deprived of vital supplies."

(End of Chapter 617)

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