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

Chapter 2: This Boy is No Ordinary Child

It was only natural that Deyoka felt this way—after all, Charles had traveled back to this era from the modern world.

At this point, World War I had just begun, and everyone believed it would end quickly. But Charles knew that this war would drag on for over four years, claiming the lives of 1.69 million French soldiers.

A 4.25% death rate meant that, excluding the elderly, women, minors, and privileged bureaucrats, the mortality rate for soldiers was about one in four—a horrifying statistic. For every four soldiers, one would die. And if the wounded were included, nearly no one would emerge unscathed from this war.

Seventeen-year-old Charles was on the brink of adulthood. If nothing changed, he would be conscripted next year or the year after to face the brutal reality of battle. He hadn't come all this way, crossing time and space, only to die senselessly on the battlefield.

To avoid this fate, he resolved to create strong reasons to stay off the battlefield. Even if he were conscripted, he wanted to stay far from the front lines. Charles believed military manufacturing was the key.

If he could supply the army with advanced, high-quality weapons—even weapons that were ahead of their time—and help France win the war, what reason would they have to send him to the battlefield? A path that saved both his life and made him money—what could be better?

In just over half an hour, Francis returned, raising a stack of papers with an excited declaration:

"The motorcycle factory is ours! That man was on the verge of abandoning it, and when he heard about the exchange, he grabbed the offer like a lifeline and signed the contract on the spot!"

Pierre looked at Francis in shock. He had thought the negotiation would take a day or two at least, so he hadn't rushed to intervene. To his surprise, the deal was already sealed.

"Father, is this really a wise decision?" Pierre's tone held an unmistakable mix of pessimism and disappointment. "Now, all our assets are in Dawaz. When the Germans arrive, we'll lose everything!"

Francis brushed off Pierre's concerns, grinning as he looked at Charles. "So, you think like I do—that the Germans won't make it here, right?"

Francis had been carefully tracking the army's movements, convinced that the French forces were executing a strategic withdrawal, preserving their strength for a counterattack. That's why he was willing to risk all his assets.

But Charles shook his head.

"No, sir. Quite the opposite—I believe the Germans will reach this place!"

Francis was taken aback by this response. Though he trusted his own judgment, he didn't understand Charles's motives. If the Germans were going to reach Dawaz, wouldn't raising the stakes mean certain ruin?

Seeing Charles hesitate to speak further, Francis quickly realized there were things the boy was reluctant to say in front of others. Francis originally hadn't intended to pursue it; after all, he was just a teenager, likely just trying to draw attention with his prior remarks. Teenagers often did that.

Still, curiosity got the better of Francis, and he decided to speak with the boy.

"All right, let's go to the study for a coffee," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument, like a command from a superior to a subordinate.

This irked Charles slightly. Why did this old man insist on assuming an elder's authority when he hadn't even acknowledged him as his grandson? Claiming the privileges of a grandfather without fulfilling the responsibilities? If it weren't for Charles's plans to use him to develop the arms industry, he wouldn't bother.

…

The study, located on the second floor, was simply but tastefully furnished. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with volumes. In the center sat a mahogany desk with a lamp, a few chairs, and a three-tier book ladder.

Charles and Francis took their seats at the desk, with Francis in the main seat. The butler brought in two cups of coffee, filling the room with a rich aroma.

The beans were from Algeria. Francis believed that coffee grown in highland and subtropical climates had the richest flavor, and he always went to great lengths to import it, paying twice the normal price.

He held his coffee gracefully, inhaling its aroma before taking a small sip, his eyes fixed on the cup as he casually asked, "You seem to have something you want to say?"

Charles added a sugar cube to his coffee, stirring slowly as he replied, "Sir, I think you should be more concerned with whether France can win this war, rather than whether the Germans will make it here."

Francis's expression remained neutral as he countered, "Isn't that the same thing?"

Charles shook his head lightly. "No, sir. If France loses, the factory will be looted regardless of whether the Germans reach Dawaz."

Francis looked up at Charles in surprise. The boy was right. The Germans would have every reason to seize the tractor factory, the motorcycle factory, and even the machine-gun production line. If Germany won, they would inevitably move everything—including the machinery and the tractors—to Germany.

Charles continued, "So, our goals should be twofold: first, to help France win this war, and second, to protect Dawaz."

The former was a strategic goal; the latter, a tactical one. Only by achieving both could the factory's safety be assured.

Francis stared at Charles for a moment, then laughed, looking at him as if he were telling a joke. "My boy, you seem eager to impress me, but you're trying too hard! Help France win the war? Defend Dawaz? If you were Napoleon, I might believe you, but…"

Francis shook his head with a hint of condescension.

Charles rolled his eyes. Did he need to impress Francis? Instead of arguing further, Charles decided that the best response was to prove himself with results.

Noticing a map on the desk, which Francis used to record tractor sales by region, Charles pushed his coffee cup aside and spread the map in front of him, analyzing confidently as he pointed to different spots.

"The Germans are planning to encircle Paris with two armies: the First Army on the west and the Second Army on the east. The First Army on the west has moved quickly and is now forty kilometers ahead of the Second Army."

Francis gave a brief "hmm" of acknowledgment. This kid knew a thing or two. Not that it was a secret—updates from the front line and retreating soldiers were always bringing the latest news. For a 17-year-old, this was impressive, but if Charles thought such knowledge would earn him any favor, he was sorely mistaken.

Unfazed, Charles continued, "If the battle progresses like this, the Germans will encircle Paris and win the war."

Francis nodded slightly, acknowledging this prediction. Paris was the political and transportation hub of France. If Paris fell, it would devastate the morale of both the army and the French people, and logistics would be thrown into chaos. The war would effectively be over.

But…

"Do you have a way to change this situation?" Francis's mouth twisted in a mocking smile. Did this kid think he was Napoleon?

Charles tapped his finger on the location of the First Army, saying, "If they altered their route from the west of Paris to the east, France would have a chance to win the war!"

Francis shook his head, laughing. "Very amusing, my boy. But unfortunately, we cannot control the enemy's army!"

He set down his coffee, signaling the end of the conversation.

Charles realized then that Francis, while a skilled businessman, knew nothing about military tactics and even ignorantly mocked others. Charles traced his finger lightly across the map.

"You're right, sir! We can't command the enemy's army, but we can influence the direction of the French retreat."

"And this will draw the enemy's attention, as they'll want to eliminate the French forces!"

Charles looked directly at Francis, his gaze one of quiet confidence.

Francis's face shifted slightly; he had a growing sense that this young man before him was not as simple as he appeared.

(End of Chapter)