I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 56: Harassment Tactics

Charles patiently listened to Gallieni's recounting of recent events, barely suppressing his frustration.

"It's not meant for direct combat, General!" Charles clarified.

"I suspected as much," Gallieni responded. "I reviewed Major Browning's report. His success was due to surprise tactics, sneaking along narrow paths to hit the enemy from behind. Is that the only way the sidecars can be used? The battlefield has changed. After Browning's victory, the Germans have fortified their camps—they're even digging trenches both in front of and behind their encampments!"

Indeed, for every offense, there was a defense. In battle, each side constantly guarded against the other, adapting and countering in an endless cycle. It was only natural that the Germans wouldn't just sit idle and allow the sidecars to slaughter them again. Digging trenches proved effective—without tracks like those on tanks, a single trench was enough to halt a sidecar in its tracks.

But the potential of the sidecars wasn't limited to sneak attacks.

Charles thought for a moment and then suggested, "Perhaps harassment tactics would work better given the current situation."

"Harassment tactics?" Gallieni's voice held a hint of curiosity.

"Yes," Charles explained. "Instead of direct assault, we send small groups on sidecars to bypass the enemy lines, infiltrating their rear and keeping them off balance."

Gallieni sounded skeptical. "What if they're prepared for us? Not all terrains are suitable for sidecar operations."

"It's not about attacking," Charles clarified, "but rather, harassing. Just a few sidecars, appearing unpredictably around the enemy, firing a few shots day and night. They don't even need to cross the trenches."

Gallieni made a sound of understanding.

Charles continued, "The purpose of these sidecars is to unnerve the enemy. Frequent surprise attacks will force them into constant readiness, slowing their advance and keeping them on edge—even depriving them of sleep. Within days, they'll be exhausted. And when they let their guard down or a small group strays from the main force, the sidecars can concentrate and launch an ambush…"

Gallieni nodded slowly, a glint of appreciation in his eyes. As a seasoned soldier, he could see the power of such a tactic. The sidecars would be like persistent flies, darting around the enemy, hard to chase down and impossible to ignore. The Germans wouldn't be able to eat or sleep in peace, while the sidecars would use their speed and knowledge of the terrain to stay just out of reach.

Even the German artillery would struggle against these fast, small targets, which could disappear into the woods at a moment's notice. Once the enemy was worn down to the point of frustration and near-collapse, they could strike decisively.

"An excellent idea!" Gallieni remarked with genuine admiration. "Another way to turn the odds in our favor. It seems you view warfare as a game, toying with your opponents."

In Gallieni's voice was a touch of regret; Charles's military genius seemed wasted in business. Such a mind belonged in strategic command, devising tactics and training troops.

"Keep in mind, though, General," Charles advised, "while the tactic sounds simple, execution is key. Avoid headlong charges or unnecessary attacks. The success of this tactic depends on having thorough intelligence on the enemy's movements. Otherwise, we could easily walk into an ambush."

Charles added, "On that note, I believe two-wheeled motorcycles might be even more suitable than three-wheeled sidecars. Don't you agree, General?"

"Absolutely," Gallieni responded enthusiastically. "Two-wheeled motorcycles can navigate almost any trail."

"And they'd make excellent messengers as well," Charles added with a persuasive tone. "Motorcycles are faster and more reliable than horses."

If Charles had added, "Place your orders now for a special discount!" he couldn't have sounded more like a salesman.

Oblivious to Charles's sales pitch, Gallieni's mind was now racing with images of messengers speeding down roads and forest trails on motorcycles. After a long pause, he remarked with admiration, "If you weren't just seventeen, I'd never believe you hadn't fought in battle."

On the other end of the line, Charles merely chuckled. Little did Gallieni know that Charles's ideas weren't just born of imagination but were rooted in modern, proven military strategies—the culmination of centuries of human experience on the battlefield.

"Any other strategies you'd suggest?" Gallieni asked, eagerness evident in his tone.

"I think special operations could also suit the current situation, General," Charles replied.

"Special operations?" Gallieni's interest was clearly piqued.

But just as Gallieni was waiting expectantly, a commotion broke out on Charles's end:

"Release Master Charles!"

"You lackeys of the capitalists—what proof do you have to detain him?"

"Master Charles saved France from the Germans. How could he possibly be a spy?"

Gallieni, bewildered, demanded, "A spy for the Germans? Who's the fool throwing such accusations at Charles?"

Chaos reigned on Charles's side as furious workers began forcing their way into the tent where he was being "detained," pushing against the soldiers holding them back. Even though Jules and his men were blocking them with their rifles, they struggled to hold the crowd at bay.

Jules tried shouting over the uproar, "Gentlemen, you misunderstand! We only invited Master Charles to talk…"

"Liar!" someone yelled. "We know what Major Laurent said!"

Jules realized that someone among his men must have tipped off the workers. Otherwise, they'd have no way of knowing it was an "interrogation."

As Jules opened his mouth to explain, Laurent stepped out, visibly fuming.

"Yes, this is an interrogation!" he announced. "Not only Charles, but every one of you could be under suspicion…"

"Thud!" A stone flew through the air, hitting Laurent squarely in the head. Dazed and off balance, he stumbled, blood trickling down his face from under his hat.

But the crowd didn't relent. They shouted and pushed forward, determined to breach the soldiers' line of defense.

At that moment, Charles emerged from the tent, perfectly timed, calling out, "I'm fine, gentlemen. Thank you!"

His voice, though soft, instantly hushed the crowd. Reassured by his presence, the workers relaxed:

"Did those brutes hurt you, Master Charles?"

"Don't worry, Master Charles. We'll always be on your side."

"Anyone could be a spy, but you? Never!"

Charles cast a sympathetic look at Laurent, who was being helped up by his subordinates, battered and bruised. Despite everything, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of pity for him.

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