Albert I's suspicions were correct: the Zeppelin's target was indeed the water supply system behind Fort Wavre. General Besler could no longer wait. Or rather, Charles had pushed him to the breaking point.
"It has to be Charles—it must be his doing!" Besler muttered.
After losing two Big Berthas in an ambush, Besler returned to headquarters in a rage, limping from a fall. A shell had detonated nearby, causing chaos among the horses, and even his own well-trained steed had stumbled. Tangled in loosened reins, Besler had been thrown, his leg pinned beneath the fallen animal, until guards rushed in to save him from being trampled.
Besler stord into the command tent and hurled his cap onto the table. "General!" one of his aides tried to reassure him. "We still have one Big Bertha. Victory is still within reach…"
"Is that what you think?" Besler shot back, eyes narrowing at the aide.
The aide looked puzzled—wasn't this the case?
Besler laughed darkly. "One deception, one trap—and we lost two Big Berthas. Have you learned nothing?"
The aide simply shook his head, baffled.
Besler glanced at the aide's insignia and said coldly, "Major, you're a lieutenant now. Report to the first battalion with a rifle."
The aide paled but saluted and withdrew.
"What a fool," Besler grumbled. "Even now, he can't see that Charles was behind all this!" He looked intently at the map. "There's no ti to lose—who knows what Charles might try next."
He ordered a Zeppelin that was originally set to bomb French positions redirected toward Antwerp. It advanced at 80 kiloters per hour, while Besler personally radioed its captain, Dim, to ensure it stayed on course toward the supply system.
As the Zeppelin approached Antwerp, its massive silhouette darkened the sky. The soldiers in its shadow marveled at the colossal airship, while the German "Taube" planes escorting it looked like small, harmless bats in comparison.
Besler gazed up at this airborne behemoth with pride, whispering, "This is mankind's triumph. Nothing can stop it—not even Charles."
German soldiers peeked out from bunkers, so even stepping out of their tents to cheer, smiles spreading as though the Zeppelin's arrival signaled the end of the battle.
Across the field, Antwerp's defenders also noticed the Zeppelin, a monstrosity over 100 ters long and nearly 30 ters in diater, visible even from its altitude of 1,500 ters. As it lood, terror gripped the soldiers. Even the most steadfast defenders sensed impending doom.
They thought, Even Charles is powerless here. In the face of this behemoth, Charles seed like nothing—too small to matter.
King Albert, who had always believed in Charles, began to lose hope. He stood atop the observation tower with Generals Ghys and Winter, bracing himself for the worst.
They had tried every defense they could think of, yet nothing could halt its advance. It was clear what lay ahead for Antwerp: the destruction of the water supply, followed by a swift surrender due to lack of fresh water.
However...
Drawn to the Zeppelin, no one noticed a few planes taking off from Antwerp's airfield just a few kiloters away. Initially, people assud they were German, until they swooped low, revealing Belgian insignias under their wings.
"That's our squadron!" King Albert exclaid.
General Ghys noticed them too but shook his head in resignation. "What good will it do?"
Ghys had a point. At this ti, airplanes were often easy prey for airships. The Zeppelin carried heavy machine guns at every angle and flew steadily, providing an ideal platform for aerial gunners. Worse still, the Zeppelin's speed was comparable to the planes, which had little hope of outmaneuvering it.
Albert responded, "At the very least, this proves right, General."
"About what?" Ghys asked, puzzled.
Albert clarified, "Have you forgotten who's commanding that squadron?"
"Oh," Ghys murmured, his tone shifting. "You an Charles hasn't fled?"
"Exactly!" Albert replied proudly, watching the planes advance on the Zeppelin. "They are the first to charge into enemy territory."
Ghys scoffed, "But Charles isn't among them, is he? He's likely using those pilots as a diversion while he slips away to Paris…"
Before Ghys could finish, one of the planes launched an object trailing smoke and a distinct whistling sound.
"What was that?" General Winter gasped, grabbing his binoculars.
The smoke trail headed directly for the Zeppelin.
With a thunderous blast, an explosion erupted near the Zeppelin, lighting up the sky. Unfortunately, the Zeppelin didn't catch fire. Later, the pilots speculated that the rocket had struck the Zeppelin's aluminum fra, deflecting it and causing it to explode outside the airship's skin.
Yet even this close call rattled everyone, including the German soldiers who had been watching with such confidence monts before.
Besler was stunned. He didn't know what kind of weapon it was, but he understood its significance.
"It's Charles—it has to be Charles…" Besler muttered, his face ashen. "Once again, he's beaten us to the punch."
(End of Chapter)
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