Chapter 281: Tijani's Determination
In the Paris House of Representatives, the arguments against Gallieni became increasingly fierce:
"The Allied fleet has been forced to halt nighttime bombardments. Do you know what that means?""Territory our troops secure by day is lost again at night without artillery support.""Our forces are stuck in a grueling back-and-forth with the enemy; the longer this drags on, the more certain our defeat becomes!"
Gallieni watched the self-righteous representatives with disdain. Was this all Charles's fault? Gallieni had repeatedly warned the decision-makers not to pursue this ill-advised campaign. Now that it was unraveling, shouldn't the blame lie with those who had set it in motion?
Grevy stood up. Unlike his earlier fiery demeanor, he appeared calm, as though he understood the outcome was already decided and only a final push was needed.
"General," Grevy began with an air of detachment, "I understand your desire to protect Charles, but every soldier's duty is to serve on the battlefield. Keeping Charles firmly by your side seems unfair to those soldiers enduring hardship, even laying down their lives."
Applause rippled through the room.
Gallieni seethed internally; Grevy's words had deftly pitted Charles against the soldiers and even encouraged resentment from their families.
"Gentlemen!" Armand called, gesturing to his colleagues. "Of course, we also expect the military to ensure Charles's safety. Even at the Dardanelles, he should remain on a ship, safe from a fate like the Goliath's."
Shameless, Gallieni thought, gritting his teeth; with a single sentence, Armand had shifted responsibility for Charles's safety squarely onto the military's shoulders.
But Gallieni said nothing, standing in silence, waiting.
The room quieted, everyone seemingly waiting for Gallieni to offer a satisfying response.
"I'm very sorry," Gallieni replied calmly, "but I can't fulfill your wishes."
The chamber erupted in boos.
Gallieni added, "Charles has made it clear that he does not want to remain safely on a battleship. He wishes to lead a landing force himself."
The room fell silent, with every eye on Gallieni, disbelief etched on their faces.
"Yes," Gallieni nodded decisively, "he will go to the front, leading a detachment. So…" He turned to Grevy, his words pointed, "as you requested, Mr. Grevy."
Grevy forced a stiff smile, bitter at heart. Charles would rather go to the front than accept his suggestion of cooperation.
At the Brest shipyard, Wells and Tijani were testing the first newly constructed landing craft.
To their surprise, the vessel performed flawlessly. Soldiers could file out easily once the ramp dropped, following through the open doors right onto shore.
Wells voiced his concern: "If the enemy has machine guns aimed at the doors, the soldiers could be cut down the instant the ramp drops."
"Don't worry, Father," Tijani replied. "Our warships will provide cover fire, and there's never absolute safety on the battlefield."
Wells hesitated. "Perhaps the door should open on the side instead?"
"It wouldn't make much difference," Tijani said, shaking his head. "Whether the doors open at the front or the side, the soldiers still need to cross a stretch of open ground to reach the shore."
Wells nodded, realizing Tijani was right. A side door might look safer, but in reality, the troops would still have to funnel out in a narrower line, making them easy targets even for rifles.
Charles, it seemed, had thought through these issues well in advance.
At that moment, Wells spotted his butler approaching with a newspaper.
Wells frowned. "Another battleship sunk?"
"No, sir," the butler announced, his voice urgent. "Charles is going to the front! He's preparing to lead a landing at the Dardanelles."
Tijani blurted out, "He's going himself?"
"Yes, in person," the butler said, handing him the newspaper. "It's all here."
Tijani's expression changed as he read the headline. He glanced from the landing craft in front of him to Wells.
Wells understood the look on his son's face and shook his head firmly. "No, I won't allow it."
"Father!" Tijani insisted. "Charles may need me. I'm in the Army, and I understand both the naval and land operations."
"No, he doesn't need you," Wells replied. "Charles knows far more than you, about both the Army and the Navy."
"Perhaps that's true," Tijani admitted, but he pressed on. "But Charles is a commander. He'll need someone on the front lines."
"Are you saying you intend to command on the front lines?" Wells interrupted, his voice rising. "Do you realize how dangerous it is?"
"Of course I do," Tijani replied. "I experienced that firsthand last time when I was surrounded."
"Then why go back?" Wells demanded. "Because he saved your life? That was just a mission, Tijani—Charles himself said as much!"
"No, Father," Tijani shook his head, his voice steady, and nodded toward the landing craft. "It's because of them."
"Them?" Wells looked at his son in confusion.
"These boats—they're not just machines to be built and left behind."
Seeing the uncertainty on his father's face, Tijani explained:
"You don't understand, Father."
"They're only truly alive when they're on the battlefield, fulfilling their purpose."
"I'll never forget the sight of the Charles A1 tank, pushing forward and scattering the enemy. I want to witness that again. I want to be part of it."
Wells stared at him, silent. He finally understood his son's determination.
It felt like he was seeing Tijani clearly for the first time. Though they had lived side by side for years, Wells realized now that he had never truly understood his son.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, Wells relented. "Very well—go, before I change my mind. But Charles may not accept you. He still sees you as a self-serving, glory-seeking playboy."
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