Chapter 188: Intensive Training
Charles won the battle of public opinion with surprising ease. When citizens learned they had nearly been manipulated by capitalists, a backlash ensued. Workers organized a massive strike, gathering with flags in hand to protest outside Schneider's headquarters and Francis Tractor Factory. Many citizens also showed their support for Charles by canceling their orders for the "Holt 120" and continuing to buy Charles's "Holt 75"—even knowing it was less advanced.
In response, a saying spread among the people:
"Want to buy the 'Holt 120'? That's your choice, but if Charles's factory goes under, just wait and see—the price of the 'Holt 120' will double, or worse!" "Charles's factory is the only reason capitalists are lowering prices; we can't let them bury it!" "Many of us have lost everything to capitalists. Do you want to see Charles's factory go down the same path?"
As a result, the demand for the "Holt 75" surged beyond expectations, and it even became hard to keep up with orders. Charles was somewhat surprised by this turn of events. Although he'd prepared for a loss in the tractor market, he had only ever viewed the tractor factory as a way to fund tank production. Still, the extra income was welcome, especially for a capitalist.
In Paris's 12th arrondissement, near the Bastille, lay a police training base, where officers received firearm and physical training before entering the workforce. But today, the training base hosted an unusual group of trainees: soldiers, specifically military officers—mostly majors and lieutenant colonels, with a few colonels as well. These soldiers had been handpicked from forty-four frontline divisions, with each division sending one artillery and one infantry officer.
On the third floor of the training facility, in an amphitheater-style classroom, a nervous Colonel Dominique prepared to address the officers. Though he held the rank of colonel, he was a test gunner by trade and had never seen actual combat. As he looked out over the hardened officers—scarred, imposing, and battle-hardened—Dominique felt distinctly out of place.
One officer, Colonel Christine, was a celebrated war hero. Though his First Special Artillery Regiment had struggled during the Battle of Lafaux, his reputation among the troops remained unshaken.
Dominique took a deep breath, nervously introducing himself, "G-gentlemen, I am Colonel Dominique, your chief instructor. Over the next week, I will be teaching you… the use of the mortar."
Colonel Christine looked over Dominique with a polite but puzzled expression. "Excuse me, Colonel Dominique, but isn't Charles supposed to be leading this training?"
"Yes, of course!" Dominique replied, flustered. "But you know, Charles is a very busy man. He'll only be covering tactics. I'll be instructing you in how to operate the mortar…"
"Colonel!" another officer interrupted, a note of disdain in his voice. "Have you ever been to the front?"
Everyone could tell that Dominique was an outsider to the battlefield, likely a man of privilege or a capitalist, which explained his high rank despite his lack of combat experience.
Dominique hesitated, then admitted, "No, I haven't, but I…"
"Then how can you teach us to use a weapon?" another officer interjected.
Before Dominique could respond, another officer chimed in, "Do you understand the battlefield better than we do? Do you even know what we need out there?"
The classroom erupted in laughter, with the officers clearly viewing the training as a farce.
At that moment, a young man in a major's uniform entered the room, closing a dripping umbrella. Two guards stood at attention outside the door, and a second major respectfully took the young man's umbrella.
With a piercing gaze, the young major scanned the room and calmly said, "Apologies for my delay."
A hush fell over the room. Although most of the officers hadn't met Charles, they recognized him instantly. Charles's rise had made him the youngest major in France, a rank far out of reach for anyone his age—most young men his age hadn't even enlisted.
Like Dominique, Charles was well-groomed and didn't bear the marks of combat, but his reputation demanded respect.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Charles said, nodding courteously as he walked toward the podium. Dominique stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Charles glanced at the officers' skeptical expressions and quickly understood their misgivings.
"Here's the deal," Charles announced, his tone light but firm. "This training is voluntary. If anyone wishes to leave, you're free to do so."
"Are you serious?" one officer asked skeptically.
"Absolutely," Charles said with a smile. "I'll even provide an explanation for your superiors, so there's no need to worry about repercussions."
"Can we see this mortar you're teaching us to use?" another officer asked, the hint of curiosity clear. "Seeing it might help us judge whether this training is worth our time."
Charles nodded, signaling Dominique, who quickly stepped out to call in the teaching assistants. In moments, a few assistants entered carrying parts of the mortar, swiftly assembling it on the podium.
When the officers saw it, murmurs filled the room.
"A toy-sized cannon?" one officer muttered.
"I was expecting something better than the 75," another officer scoffed. "This looks like a child's plaything."
"It's hard to believe we're expected to train on this."
Despite the skepticism, Colonel Christine seemed intrigued. He gave Charles an appraising look, wondering how someone without battle experience could understand so well what soldiers truly needed.
Charles spoke up again, his tone a mixture of hope and disappointment. "Those of you uninterested are still free to leave. Please—don't feel compelled to stay."
All eyes turned to Colonel Christine. After a moment's thought, Christine shook his head, resolutely saying, "No, Major. We need this weapon."
Charles shrugged theatrically, his tone playful. "Well, I tried! But I couldn't fool you all."
With a laugh, Charles continued, "To be honest, production is limited, and we don't have enough mortars to equip all the front-line troops. I was hoping some of you might opt out—but I guess not."
The officers chuckled. Several who had briefly considered leaving were now glad they hadn't made such a hasty decision.
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