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

Chapter 3: It's All Just Business

Francis wasn't so easily convinced, though. He dropped his air of disdain and spoke with a serious tone:

"Regrettably, we also have no way to command the French Fifth Army. We can't even influence the higher-ups. We are merely… rather accomplished businessmen."

Francis gave an awkward shrug, admitting his lack of influence in military and political circles, which made him uncomfortable. The real power players in France weren't industrialists but the 200 shareholders of the French National Bank—the so-called "200 Families." They held the right to issue currency, controlled national loans, dictated the country's economy, and even influenced policy decisions.

Though his tractor factory ranked among the top 100 businesses in France, it was nothing more than a cog in the bank's machinery. Every year, 7% of his factory's net profit went directly to the bank in interest.

Charles calmly rolled up the map and set it aside, responding with an assured tone:

"We don't need to command them, and we don't need to influence military leadership, sir!"

"Think about it—the Fifth Army has been driven back by the Germans. They may have lost their food, ammunition, and even rifles; the soldiers are likely starving after days without supplies."

"If you prepare and stockpile as much food as possible, combined with the machine-gun factory you just acquired, you could provide the essential supplies for the Fifth Army."

"It's not much, but it's better than cramming into chaotic Paris, only to end up surrounded. Wouldn't you agree?"

Francis understood Charles's thinking: lure in the "small fish" with food, then use the "small fish" to attract the "big fish," and ultimately shift the entire course of the war!

However…

"Are the Germans really so easily deceived?" Francis asked, still doubtful. "Would they alter their plans to encircle Paris merely because the Fifth Army has shifted its escape route?"

After all, Paris was the political center and transportation hub of France.

Charles replied confidently:

"If it were only the Fifth Army, they might not take the bait. But what if the Germans believed that France had no intention of defending Paris?"

"The government officials have already left, civilians are fleeing, and the soldiers are demoralized and ready to abandon the fight."

"If we spread rumors that the defenders are preparing to retreat, and that all the Germans will find is an empty city—do you think they'd still feel the need to surround Paris?"

Francis froze. If Paris were an empty city, encircling it would indeed be pointless. Pursuing the French Fifth Army would yield far better results.

After all, eliminating the enemy's active forces would be the fastest, most effective way to defeat France and render her unable to fight back. This logic was clear.

In this case, the Germans would be much more likely to take the bait.

Charles added, "I believe German spies are everywhere in Paris. They'll carry these 'rumors' straight to the Germans."

Francis gave a slight nod, regarding Charles as if seeing him for the first time.

Was this really a plan devised by a 17-year-old boy? Could a high school student truly possess such wisdom?

Perhaps he had overlooked Charles for far too long, leading to this shock at his unexpected abilities.

Then, his instincts as a businessman kicked in, weighing the potential risks and rewards. This plan wouldn't be easy to execute, but it had a real chance of success. Even a 1% chance was worth trying, as it could rescue France from crisis and save his own factory.

Charles leaned back, sipping his coffee casually as he said, "If we succeed, sir, you will be hailed as a hero of France."

"Your name will be known far and wide. It's the best advertisement you could ask for. Whether it's tractors, motorcycles, or machine guns—they'll sell out!"

"All of France will cheer for you!"

Francis's eyes gleamed with excitement as he imagined the rewards Charles had described.

No, it wasn't just business. He might finally gain the clout to enter the political and military elite of France, to stand toe-to-toe with the "200 Families."

And the cost? Merely purchasing some food and notifying the military.

Still, Francis's face remained stern, his tone turning cold as he asked, "Do you think I would steal your idea and claim it as my own?"

Charles shook his head, replying calmly, "No, sir. I am asking you to do exactly that."

"Otherwise, they might draft me into the army for it!"

Francis paused, caught off guard by this angle. He hadn't considered it.

It was true; if Charles displayed such military talent and with France embroiled in war, he might very well be conscripted, even though he was underage. It was simply the nature of wartime needs.

Therefore, this idea would have to be attributed to Francis alone.

Francis felt a bit guilty as he looked at Charles. Here he was, about to appropriate the ideas of a young man he'd always looked down on.

Charles responded with a magnanimous smile. "I have no problem with it, sir."

"This has always been your idea. I'm only here to enjoy a coffee."

He raised his cup with a grin. "Excellent coffee!"

Francis thought for a moment and then, feeling reassured, accepted this exchange. In business, there was no such thing as "theft"—only mutual benefit.

"You're right, Charles. I think it's time we put this plan into action. Can you assist Mr. Joseph with managing the tractor factory?"

Although the factory didn't truly need help, this was a subtle acknowledgment of Charles's status, a test, and, in a way, an exchange.

Charles understood exactly what this seemingly offhand comment implied. He had initially aimed to oversee the machine-gun factory, but it was wise to proceed one step at a time.

"Of course, sir," Charles replied. "I would be honored."

…

As Francis descended the stairs, Pierre and Deyoka, who had been whispering, rose to greet him. They seemed curious about the conversation in the study.

Francis now understood why Charles had kept them out of it. If word got out and reached the Germans, they might decide not to alter their advance toward the east of Paris, and Charles might still end up conscripted.

"Smart boy!" Francis silently commended.

Turning to Deyoka, he nodded approvingly. "You've raised a fine son, Deyoka, and educated him well."

"Father!" Deyoka was taken aback by this rare praise.

Francis rarely complimented him. In his father's eyes, he had always been indecisive and overly sentimental—traits unsuited to a successful businessman, who, like Pierre, should be ruthless and decisive.

Francis said nothing further, shifting his gaze to Pierre.

"I need to make a trip to Paris. Use all of our reserves to purchase food, and if necessary, trade tractors for it!"

Pierre's face filled with horror. "Father, that would leave us penniless—reduced to beggars…"

"Do as I say!" Francis interrupted sharply.

"Yes, Father," Pierre replied reluctantly.

Francis once again grabbed his hat and coat from the rack, hurrying out. As he climbed into his Model T, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

His two sons didn't even measure up to a single boy!

And as Francis pondered this, he was perplexed. Could the child of a maid truly be so remarkable?

(End of Chapter)

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