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

Chapter 67: Special Operations

Charles adjusted his military cap, which felt as stiff as stale bread—certainly not comfortable for battle, and it offered no real protection. But this inconvenience sparked an idea: perhaps he could develop a helmet for the French army. Though small, such an item could bring in a significant profit if France's estimated 8.5 million conscripts each needed one. This helmet venture could be as profitable as his motorcycles…

Charles's reverie was interrupted by Gallieni: "Are you thinking, or are you daydreaming, Lieutenant?"

"Oh," Charles murmured, snapping his attention back to the map in front of him.

"First, there's the Fifth Army's security," he began, pointing at the map. "The Third and Eighth Armies on the flanks are advancing steadily, and logistics for all three divisions are well-managed. With stable reinforcements, we don't need to worry too much about the Fifth Army being encircled."

Gallieni nodded in agreement. He had thought the same. Although advancing in an isolated position was risky, the Germans had limited options to launch a full encirclement.

Sure, they could attempt to cut off communication between the Fifth Army and the other forces, but with the Third and Eighth Armies continuing their progress, any German incursion would risk a counter-encirclement. In warfare, everything was a matter of relative risk. Gallieni had long known there was no "safe" plan on the battlefield—only degrees of danger. When the enemy's position was even more precarious, the plan was viable.

Most generals, including Joffre, had considered ordering the Fifth Army to halt, fearing an encounter with German forces. Too many defeats had eroded their confidence in French forces. But now…

"Why increase speed?" Gallieni asked. "Do you plan to bait the Germans into surrounding them?"

Gallieni was skeptical. The Germans weren't fools; obvious traps were rarely effective.

Charles smiled slightly. "The Germans will think the same way."

Gallieni suddenly realized he had been outmaneuvered. He had fallen right into Charles's game, overthinking as Charles had anticipated.

"Interesting!" Gallieni took up his pince-nez and perched it on his nose. "So, you're actually counting on the Germans not surrounding the Fifth Army?"

"That's right," Charles answered. "If the Germans did encircle the Fifth, we'd have to engage in a conventional battle. While the Germans would take losses, ours would likely be just as high."

Gallieni nodded. Despite the Germans being worn down by the Fifth Army's harassment, their troops still matched the French in strength and resolve. A direct confrontation would lead to brutal attrition.

He placed himself in the mindset of a German commander, moving the Second German Army's marker on the map. "If I choose not to encircle and instead continue to retreat?"

"Checkmate!" Charles tapped his pencil twenty kilometers behind the German lines. "I'll take your queen."

"What?" Gallieni looked up, surprised. "That's impossible, Charles. How could you possibly reach twenty kilometers behind my lines…"

But then Gallieni realized the flaw he had created. With the German Second Army's retreat, the Fifth Army would already be twenty kilometers ahead of the German defense line. Using his side roads, Charles could deploy sidecar units to penetrate directly into the German rear.

"Good heavens!" Gallieni exclaimed, pale with the realization. "The sidecar units would encounter not Germany's frontline soldiers but their supply convoys, field hospitals, and artillery!"

Charles didn't confirm or deny it; Gallieni was right. Charles's goal had never been the German front line.

"Why do you call this 'special operations'?" Gallieni asked, still puzzled.

Charles replied quietly, "If, as you said, we're only targeting the Germans' supply trucks, field hospitals, or artillery, then it's not really special operations. But if we target supply depots, ammunition warehouses, command centers, train stations, and bridges with planned, specific attacks—that's special operations."

Gallieni was stunned.

Supply and ammunition depots were far more critical; one match could burn them to the ground, wiping out vital resources. Attacks on command centers could cause mass confusion among the enemy ranks. Destroying train stations and bridges would paralyze supply routes, leaving the Germans with no choice but to retreat.

After a pause, Gallieni asked, "So, it's just a matter of targeting different objectives?"

Charles couldn't help but admire Gallieni's insight. Despite facing a novel idea, Gallieni was already examining it from a broader perspective.

Most officers would have latched onto Charles's suggestion eagerly, ready to implement it immediately in hopes of winning a decisive victory. But Gallieni, looking at it from a strategic level, seemed more interested in the theory. He wasn't merely seeking to win the current battle; he wanted to master this approach so he could apply it in other conflicts, integrating it into French military doctrine.

"It's more than that, General," Charles explained. "Special operations are more challenging than simply attacking supply lines or artillery positions. But, at the same time, they're often less costly in terms of casualties and far more impactful."

Charles's words seemed contradictory—greater difficulty with less loss? Gallieni was intrigued but nodded thoughtfully as understanding dawned.

"If our targets include enemy warehouses, ammunition dumps, command centers, and bridges…" Gallieni began. "The first thing we'd need is intelligence—detailed intelligence on their locations, defenses, and vulnerabilities."

He stopped suddenly, gazing at Charles with a glint of revelation in his eyes. "I understand now. It's intelligence, Charles. We'd need precise intelligence."

Charles nodded, remaining calm. Gallieni had already grasped the essence of special operations.

Gallieni, however, continued to stare at Charles, clearly astounded. "This goes beyond 'genius,' Charles! You're a hundred times more capable than the rest of us combined!"

"Sometimes," he added in a hushed tone, "you seem like you're not even from this world."

Charles only gave a slight smile, unable to answer a question that perhaps held the answer within it.

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