Chapter 562:
North Bank of the Somme – British Headquarters
Haig sat in stunned silence, slumped in his chair, as cheers echoed from across the river:
"Vive la France! We've won!"
Ring ring ring—the phone on his desk rang.
But Haig didn't move. It was as if none of this concerned him anymore. Only one thought ran endlessly through his mind:
How did this happen?
What kind of magic does Charles possess?
His aide rushed forward and picked up the phone. After a brief exchange, he passed the receiver to Haig with great care:
"General… it's the Field Marshal."
Haig snapped back to awareness, cleared his throat, and answered weakly:
"This is Haig."
From the other end came Kitchener's incredulous voice:
"Is it true? Charles launched a counterattack—and won?"
"Yes, sir…" Haig replied, the words bitter in his mouth. Even he found it hard to believe, but it was the truth.
"How did he do it?" Kitchener pressed.
Haig loosened his collar and said awkwardly, "I… I'm not entirely sure, sir."
Everything had happened too fast.
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes—the German retreat, the French advance, the cheering across the Somme—he would've thought it all a staged play, concocted by Charles and the Germans.
"My God, Douglas!" Kitchener's tone turned cold.
"The battle happened right under your nose—and you don't even know how he defeated them?"
What Kitchener was truly angry about wasn't the victory itself.
It was the comparison.
The British had lost hundreds of thousands of men over three weeks and advanced only a kilometer. Charles had gained five kilometers in a matter of hours—with casualties reportedly under a thousand.
But Kitchener couldn't say that out loud.
Because every one of Haig's battle plans had been approved by him.
In other words, Charles had defeated not just Haig—but Kitchener himself.
"I understand, sir," Haig murmured, eyes downcast. "I will investigate the full situation and report back as soon as possible."
Kitchener made a vague grunt and hung up.
The aide didn't wait to be asked. He stepped forward to report what he'd already gathered:
"From French sources, General. Charles broke through the German rear by advancing along the Somme River…"
Haig's head shot up. "The Somme?"
The aide nodded.
"Yes, sir. He secretly brought in landing craft and amphibious boats—probably the same designs he developed during the Dardanelles campaign."
"They've clearly been upgraded. The landing craft can carry tanks and rocket launchers. The amphibious boats transported troops and ammunition."
The aide traced his finger along the map and pointed to a location: "They landed here—near the village of Bougival—directly striking the German artillery positions…"
Haig cut him off irritably:
"But how did they fool the Germans? How could the enemy ignore all that activity on the river?"
"Nightfall, sir," the aide replied. "Combined with the noise and flashes from German artillery—it provided the perfect cover."
Haig sat in stunned silence for several seconds. Then he exhaled heavily.
Idiotic Germans, he thought. They'd cooperated perfectly with Charles's plan—without even knowing it.
After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Haig picked up the phone and called Kitchener to report everything.
Kitchener listened in silence, then finally spoke in a low, meaningful voice:
"You may have missed something, Douglas."
"What's that?" Haig asked. He was sure he had covered everything.
"The artillery barrage," Kitchener said. "Charles was waiting for it. He planned his attack to coincide with it."
Haig's eyes widened. Of course—when the German guns opened fire, Charles launched his riverborne assault. That wasn't a coincidence. It meant—
Charles knew the Germans were going to attack.
But… how?
The French Army had been under strict lockdown. No information should have reached the Germans.
Then Kitchener delivered the final blow over the line:
"He knew what you would do."
Haig froze.
"You're saying…" he stammered, "No. That's not possible."
But there was no reply. Kitchener had already hung up.
Haig refused to believe it—but the evidence left no other explanation.
Everything Haig had tried to do in secret… had been inside Charles's calculations all along.
At last, Kitchener's final words rang in his ears:
"Now do you still think Charles's victory was just a matter of luck?"
Haig had no answer.
He couldn't even deny it.
…
That afternoon, The Merit Gazette published a full front-page report on Charles's stunning victory at the Somme.
It was the work of journalist Kobdo, who had flown to the front immediately upon hearing the news. He spent hours interviewing, photographing, and gathering firsthand accounts before rushing back to Paris to write, edit, and publish.
This time, The Merit Gazette didn't hold back. It discarded all pretense of neutrality and lavished Charles with praise:
"They said Charles lacked the ability to command large formations—that he had no experience in trench warfare."
"That was a lie."
"Charles is the man who grasps the nerve of war—a true genius, a master of every tactical art."
"As Charles has always said: 'Adapt to the situation.'"
"And what is 'adaptability' if not the ability to do everything?"
…
Although most of the article focused on how Charles had used the Somme River to outmaneuver the Germans, what really captivated readers were the parts about Charles himself.
Paris was electrified by the story. Citizens couldn't help but compare this latest success with past failures:
"Is it true? Charles only suffered a little over a thousand casualties?"
"Incredible—he gained five kilometers at the cost of a thousand men? The Allies lost hundreds of thousands just trying to hold this ground!"
"It's true. Some of the wounded have already arrived in Paris. They say the Germans were already retreating when the attack began. It wasn't even a real battle—they were chasing the Germans!"
…
And that was exactly what had happened.
The Germans, shocked to see French troops suddenly appear behind their artillery, believed they had been encircled. Panic spread instantly.
They turned and ran.
The French, meanwhile, chased after them, gunning them down as they fled—many couldn't even catch up.
The Parisians were overflowing with pride—not just because they had defeated the Germans, but because they had done what the British couldn't, on the same battlefield.
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