Chapter 577: This Is a War Between Charles and Parliament
Snowflakes danced like cotton pulled loose by the wind, each flake tracing a different path before vanishing into the muddy ground.
Jambes, a small town between Brussels and Namur, welcomed its first snowfall of the year.
It had taken the Sixth Army Group several days to transfer here from the Somme. The soldiers were quietly relieved when they saw the snow. Compared to uncontrollable rain, they preferred snow—it didn't flood their trenches in the middle of the night.
But their joy didn't last.
Christine was immediately stripped of his acting command. He returned to his post as commander of the First Special Artillery Division. The entire army group was placed under strict radio silence—no contact with the outside world allowed.
Soon, unfamiliar officers began replacing nearly every regimental commander and above. The original officers were replaced, and only a few staff officers familiar with logistics and troop distribution were retained.
Training began immediately.
At first, the soldiers assumed it was just regular drills. But soon they began to feel a creeping unease: those who had spoken out during the mutiny—or even just shown strong emotion—were called in for "interviews." Some never came back. Rumor had it they were being detained for "insubordination."
Panic spread through the ranks.
"They've isolated us. They're punishing the mutiny leaders. What do we do?"
"Where's General Charles? Where is he?"
"Maybe he doesn't know. He's on leave. Maybe they planned this while he was gone."
"God… someone help us!"
…
At noon, Charles arrived in Jambes.
He had flown in, ignoring the freezing temperatures and stormy skies. When the car rolled into camp, he was still shivering, his uniform soaked through.
Out on the drill field, soldiers were being marched and shouted at by unfamiliar officers.
Then they saw Charles.
One by one, heads turned. Their anxiety dissolved like ice in fire.
"It's General Charles!"
"He's back!"
"He'll protect us!"
"These arrogant bastards—where were they during the fighting? Now they dare point fingers at us?"
The sight of Charles nearly caused a mutiny. The soldiers rushed forward. The officers struggled to regain control, shouting and pushing in vain.
…
Charles entered the headquarters building and was momentarily confused.
He thought he had the wrong place. The corridors were full of strangers.
Only after asking around did he confirm—yes, this was still the Sixth Army Group.
But none of the officers were familiar. They all knew him, of course. When they saw him, they stood at attention, saluting with wide-eyed surprise—as if they hadn't expected him to return.
A few of them quickly turned and jogged off down the corridor.
Charles knew exactly where they were going—to report that he had returned.
Sure enough, a short while later, a group of senior officers came out to greet him. Of them, only one was familiar: Wei Gang.
Leading the group was a middle-aged general, also a major general like Charles. His face was impassive as he stepped forward, offering his hand and a faint smile:
"Welcome back, Commander. I'm your new Chief of Staff—Gustave Gamelin."
(Note: Gamelin, Joffre's former strategist, was regarded in history as France's "smartest" general—but was in fact notorious for his blunders, especially in WWII where he dismissed tanks and aircraft as irrelevant. His rigid WWI-era thinking contributed to France's early defeat.)
Charles looked him over.
"A pleasure, General," he said coolly.
"This is my first time meeting my Chief of Staff in this way."
Gamelin clearly understood the sarcasm, but showed no reaction.
"Apologies, Commander," he said. "This was a higher-level decision. We're only following orders."
Charles gave a thin smile.
"Well then, would you mind showing me around my own headquarters?"
"Of course," Gamelin said, gesturing down the hall. "Please."
As they walked, Gamelin kept up the act:
"The leadership felt your success in Belgium, combined with your existing command there, made it practical to transfer the Sixth Army Group for unified coordination. You have no objection, I hope?"
"None at all," Charles replied with perfect politeness.
"It was a very… thoughtful arrangement."
As if I have a choice, he thought.
Gamelin added smoothly:
"As for not notifying you—well, you were on leave. And the radio silence was for security reasons. You understand, of course—troop movements must not be revealed to the enemy."
"Yes, of course," Charles nodded.
"You've handled things admirably."
He deliberately used "you" instead of "we." He was including Parliament.
They arrived at the command center—a modest two-story building. A quick walk upstairs and down a hallway brought them to the operations room.
It was… underwhelming.
There was no desk for the commanding officer.
Several aides scrambled to place a temporary table and chair at the head of the room. Someone hurriedly added a lamp and wiped down the dusty furniture as Charles entered.
Gamelin remained composed.
"We only just arrived, sir. Everything is still being set up."
Charles smiled politely.
"You've been very thorough. I have no complaints."
"We are honored to serve, Commander," Gamelin said with a courteous bow.
Charles took his seat.
Around him, the staff went about their business. The command post was functioning—just fine—without him.
There was nothing on his desk. The few telegrams passed his way were trivial updates—weather, supply logs, irrelevant skirmishes.
Charles understood perfectly.
He had been sidelined.
Parliament didn't want him to lead the Sixth Army—they just needed him to appear to be in charge.
He was a mask, a reassurance to the troops. Someone to calm the public and the soldiers.
And if things went wrong—if the purge of mutiny leaders turned bloody—they could always say, "It was Charles's order."
It was a neat trick: undermine his authority while blaming him for any backlash.
Two birds with one stone.
At one point, Charles exchanged a glance with Wei Gang, who shook his head slightly—no chance to speak freely.
But then he quietly joined the staff, blending in.
Foch's "enemy" act had worked. Parliament believed he was Charles's rival. So they trusted him enough to let Wei Gang "monitor" the Sixth Army from within.
What now?
The simplest choice would be to walk away. Resign command. Return to his mechanized units.
But Charles knew he couldn't.
If he failed to protect mutiny leaders like Jérémie or Darlan, it would be a devastating blow.
The soldiers would know he couldn't shield them. That Parliament held all the real power. That resistance was futile.
But if Charles could protect them…
They would follow him to the gates of hell.
So yes, this was war.
A war between Charles and Parliament.
And Charles had no intention of backing down.
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