Chapter 706 – Is This Charles's True Power?
That night, Briand and the others talked deep into the night.
What they were all waiting for—desperately—was Charles's downfall.
Or more precisely, the confirmation of his failure.
But they also knew that typically nothing new occurred during the night. So, after making every confident argument they could to convince themselves that Charles could not possibly win, they ended their conversation around 3:00 a.m.
"Tomorrow," Briand said to the two of them with a faint smile, "let's await Charles's good news."
Clemenceau and Colonel Dura exchanged knowing glances and nodded.
Briand didn't go home. His office had a private lounge. As a man who led a rather austere life, he didn't care where he slept.
More importantly, he wanted to be the first to receive the "good news."
He told Clemenceau and Dura he was staying at City Hall precisely so they would inform him the moment something happened.
Briand lay down contentedly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he drifted off to sleep.
Knowing Charles was heading into a dead-end trap was more effective than any sleeping pill.
It was unclear how long he'd been asleep when a rapid knocking woke him.
The sky was just beginning to brighten. He got out of bed in his pajamas, still half-asleep, and opened the door—only to see Clemenceau and Colonel Dura standing there.
"There's news?" Briand's eyes lit up.
"Yes, Prime Minister," Colonel Dura said. "Pétain has ordered the 3rd Army Group to counterattack."
"What?" Briand was stunned. "He actually launched a counterattack?"
Soon, Briand's expression darkened with anger. "Who authorized this? He's counterattacking at a moment like this? Has he considered Verdun's security at all?"
Dura and Clemenceau glanced at each other.
Just a few hours ago, Briand had said it himself—during wartime, the military needed some freedom of operation. So technically, Pétain didn't need authorization.
Briand knew that too. But he was still fuming as he stormed over to the phone and called the city's military command center.
"I need to speak to General Gallieni."
"Wake him up. I need answers now."
After a while, Gallieni's voice came through on the other end: "Is there a problem, Prime Minister?"
Briand demanded, "Were you the one who ordered the 3rd Army to launch an offensive? You know how important Verdun is to us. I don't think we should risk it just because of some sudden operation—"
Gallieni cut him off: "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Prime Minister. The 3rd Army began a counterattack? I've been asleep all night—I didn't authorize anything."
Briand's words caught in his throat.
Of course Gallieni couldn't have given the order—he had just been woken up.
"Then it's nothing, Minister. My apologies."
Briand slammed the receiver back into place and muttered, "Then who? Was it Foch?"
"No… impossible."
Even though Foch was the French Supreme Commander, his military philosophy was opposite to Pétain's. He had also promised not to interfere in Pétain's command at Verdun.
Could it have been Pétain's own decision?
Unlikely. Pétain was a staunch advocate of defense. It made no sense for him to suddenly order an attack.
Colonel Dura stepped forward with a guess: "Could it have been Charles?"
Briand snapped his head toward Dura. "You mean Charles gave orders to Pétain?"
Dura shrugged.
"That's my theory, Prime Minister. Charles is the only one with enough authority to rival Foch. Perhaps Pétain didn't want to see him get surrounded and cut off by the Germans."
There was some logic to that—but Briand still couldn't believe it.
To him, Charles was the biggest threat within the army. If anything, Pétain should have wanted Charles to fall. Only then would there be a reason for people to turn back to Foch or Pétain.
"Maybe we don't need to worry too much about that," Dura said as he turned toward the map.
"What we know is this: the German defensive line around Verdun is solid."
"Even if Pétain attacks, what does it change? At most, he'll lose troops and gain nothing."
"So—nothing has changed."
Briand and Clemenceau nodded slightly. That eased their nerves a little.
But just as the three men began lighting cigars and trying to relax, the secretary knocked and entered.
"Prime Minister," he said, face pale but resolute. "Charles's armored corps has reached the town of Truc, only 5 kilometers from Verdun's defensive line."
The room froze.
Clemenceau's cigar was still unlit.
After a long silence, Briand looked at the secretary in disbelief: "Truc? Only five kilometers from Verdun's defenses? Is this confirmed?"
"It is," the secretary said. "I've confirmed it with General Gallieni himself."
"But Gallieni—" Briand's anger surged again. He had just spoken with Gallieni, and the man hadn't said a word.
But a second later, it all clicked.
He had asked about Pétain—not Charles.
So Gallieni had told the truth—he hadn't given any orders to Pétain.
And Pétain had only decided to counterattack because Charles's forces had already broken through to Verdun.
Now they all understood.
It wasn't about politics, or doctrine.
Charles had simply used overwhelming strength to bulldoze through every obstacle in his path—until even the most stubborn commanders had no choice but to react.
"How did he do it?" Briand muttered, glancing at the map, then turning to Dura.
He remembered all of Dura's prior predictions: long and fragile supply lines, insufficient manpower, isolated from reinforcements.
And now—all overturned in just a few hours.
Colonel Dura looked deeply embarrassed. "I… I don't know, Prime Minister. I'm sorry."
It could only be called a miracle. Dura even began to suspect the Germans had cooperated with Charles—otherwise, how could this be real?
Twenty thousand men, surrounded by six hundred thousand—and not only did they win, they won quickly.
Is this Charles's true strength?
Clemenceau silently puffed his cigar, then exhaled a plume of smoke. In a low voice, he muttered:
"Gentlemen, it's not over yet. This is the moment when Charles's supply line is at its longest. His troops are at their most exhausted and most vulnerable."
Dura shook his head. "That may be true—but the Germans are equally vulnerable now. If Charles pushes forward just a few more kilometers, even if he's on his last legs, he could shatter their defenses at Verdun."
Coming from a man who had seen real battle, that carried weight.
Once the rear is breached, supply depots, artillery units, and command posts will be exposed.
Soldiers will lose morale—and the whole line will collapse.
"I still believe the Germans are prepared," Clemenceau insisted. "If we can see Charles advancing along the Meuse toward Verdun, they must see it too."
(End of Chapter 706)
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