Chapter 213: Wells's Considerations
At the eleventh hour, Falkenhain attempted to issue a strict order for the 4th German Reserve Army to continue encircling the French forces in the Cape Town area, but it was in vain. The 1st French Tank Brigade had broken through, escorting two Special Artillery Divisions and nearly 40,000 troops deep into Cape Town's heart. Here, they had access to the German 4th Reserve's supply hub, including the Cape Town railway station, where ammunition and resources were stockpiled.
After seizing it, the French forces used what supplies they needed and then set the depot and the railway station ablaze, reducing it to ashes. Meanwhile, Joffre led a coordinated offensive on the German front lines. Joffre had no choice but to cooperate fully; if he dared to play politics while 40,000 French troops were encircled, it would jeopardize not only his position as French Commander-in-Chief but could see him court-martialed.
In the chaos, the German forces around Cape Town faced crises on all fronts and chose to ignore Falkenhain's orders, opening a gap to allow the French to escape. This was a sound decision; they only retreated three kilometers to the secondary line, retaining control of most of Cape Town. Had they obeyed Falkenhain's orders to hold their position, they risked an entire collapse and losing the city entirely.
…
At the Paris Defense Headquarters, cheers erupted as the successful breakout message came in. The staff congratulated Charles warmly:
"A brilliant operation, Charles!"
"You managed to deceive the Germans time and time again. They were practically in the palm of your hand."
"I'm sure Falkenhain himself must have been fooled!"
Laughter spread among the group. Capde stepped forward, camera in hand, capturing rapid snapshots, and immediately began jotting down notes for an interview:
"Major, I heard you weren't entirely confident about this operation before it began?"
"That's true," Charles admitted honestly. "The odds of success were slim, especially if the Germans hadn't pulled troops from Cape Town."
"So… what ultimately led you to send the 1st Tank Brigade for reinforcements?"
Charles glanced over at Gallieni, implying that the question was better directed to him. Gallieni cleared his throat, taking a casual sip of coffee before speaking with a completely straight face:
"Well, that's a great question. When Charles heard that over 40,000 troops were surrounded by the enemy and facing imminent peril…"
"His first instinct was to insist on dispatching the 1st Tank Brigade as reinforcements!"
Charles was taken aback; that wasn't quite how things had gone. But Gallieni carried on, his expression solemn.
"I initially refused," Gallieni continued. "I told him, 'It's too dangerous, Major. No matter how many reinforcements we send, they may not return.'"
A blatant twist of the truth—Charles had been the one to say that. "But Charles was steadfast," Gallieni continued, unperturbed. "Without a moment's hesitation, he challenged me, saying, 'That's 40,000 lives—40,000 families. Even if there's only a one percent chance, we have to try.'"
Lies! Charles thought, holding back a sigh. That had been Gallieni's own line. But the staff, deeply moved, listened intently. Some even looked on with misty eyes.
Capde was scribbling furiously. Had this story been about anyone else, they might have scoffed at it as overblown. But this was Charles—the man who had done so much to defend the nation and its soldiers. How could they doubt it?
To question Charles's dedication would be an insult to France itself.
Gallieni wrapped up with a proud summary: "In the end, I was convinced and entrusted him with full command of the rescue operation. And as the results show, he was right—he got our men out."
Applause erupted across the room, and the staff lined up to shake Charles's hand.
"Thank you, Charles."
"Thank you for all you've done for France!"
"You are truly an inspiration!"
Charles, flustered, glanced at Gallieni, who was savoring his coffee with a look of serene detachment. Just then, the phone rang. Gallieni picked up.
"Hello?"
"Yes, he's here."
"Of course."
Gallieni handed the receiver to Charles with a knowing smile. "It's Wells. He wants a word with you."
Charles took the phone, stating his name. On the other end, Wells's voice was steady but carried a hint of tremor, as if he was trying to contain his excitement.
"Hello, Major. This is Wells," he said, his tone laced with admiration. "An incredibly impressive operation—brilliantly executed."
"I'd like you to know that if there's ever anything you need in the future, I'd be more than happy to be of assistance."
"Thank you, Mr. Wells," Charles replied calmly. "It was simply our duty, sir. In every battle, we soldiers strive to do everything in our power to secure victory. That's the least we can do."
"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right," Wells agreed eagerly. "Thank you once again."
With that, they ended the call. Both men understood that this was a subtle declaration of support from Wells, while Charles offered a polite formality to keep the interaction discreet.
…
After hanging up, Wells's butler, Denis, couldn't hold back a question. "Sir, are we truly shifting our support to Charles?"
Wells nodded. "Have you forgotten that Schneider is also our competitor?"
At this, Denis had no more questions. Schneider, with its foundations in steel and forging, could produce the steel needed for battleships from its own plants, and thus it was a formidable competitor to the Brest shipyard, particularly with its competitive pricing.
The enemy of one's enemy is a friend, after all, so this shift was logical. Denis's only surprise was that Wells had previously avoided clashing with Schneider directly. Why now?
Wells, lost in thought, ignored his butler and walked to the window, settling into his rocking chair. The gentle motion was a habit of his; it reminded him of the calm swaying of a ship on a tranquil sea. It was only in such moments that he could reflect with clarity.
For Wells, supporting Charles wasn't solely about the debt of gratitude owed for saving Tijani. Though meaningful, it wasn't enough on its own to warrant a complete alliance.
No, what Wells valued was Charles's extraordinary foresight on the battlefield and his ability to create equipment that outperformed all competitors—the Saint-Chamond, the CA-1, and even the latest German tanks had all proved inferior. In Charles's hands, they had all been easily outmatched.
If Charles had such a vision for land warfare, then perhaps he could foresee the future of the navy as well. A single comment, a minor suggestion from Charles, might be all it took to steer France's floundering navy back on course.
And with that, it could be what finally pulled the Brest shipyard out of its rut.
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