Chapter 529: Their Ugly Secret Is About to Be Exposed
The artillery fire continued relentlessly, pounding the earth like an endless storm. Montgomery had initially requested this barrage, believing the presence of tanks could shield his infantry from friendly fire, allowing them to press forward safely. The logic seemed sound—at first. Under the weight of the bombardment, German machine gun fire briefly weakened, and British troops surged toward enemy trenches with renewed vigor. For a moment, victory appeared within grasp.
Montgomery himself had led the charge into the enemy's first trench line, buoyed by sudden optimism at how easily they'd gained ground. But reality swiftly shattered his confidence.
Just as the British consolidated their newly captured positions, German artillery responded violently. Their shells landed with pinpoint accuracy, decimating the stalled tanks and turning the newly captured trenches into deadly traps. Montgomery soon realized the horrifying truth: the Germans had deliberately withdrawn, luring his troops into a predetermined kill zone.
Shell after shell rained down, and Montgomery knew immediately their position was untenable. If they didn't withdraw quickly, they'd be annihilated.
"Order the retreat immediately!" Montgomery shouted through the chaos.
His officers were momentarily stunned. "Retreat, sir? But we just captured the position!"
"Now!" Montgomery insisted. "The moment the shelling subsides, we retreat!"
Reluctantly, the order was passed along. As soon as a brief lull in artillery fire presented itself, British soldiers scrambled desperately out of the trenches, fleeing the death trap they'd unwittingly entered. German infantry, initially poised to counterattack, watched in frustration as their prey slipped away.
Yet this brief escape brought no real comfort. Montgomery's attempt to employ tanks had ended in disaster: dozens of vehicles lay burning or disabled, their crews dead or dying. The promised breakthrough was nothing more than a bloody stalemate, leaving the battlefield littered with British corpses and shattered equipment.
Far from the chaos at the front, Charles remained focused on preparations at his headquarters in Antwerp. He methodically checked the status of rocket artillery ammunition and equipment bound for Mons, planning carefully for his upcoming offensive against Namur fortress.
Standing nearby, General Tijani approached, holding a telegram in hand.
"Good news, Charles," Tijani said, looking cautiously optimistic. "The Germans have begun redeploying forces toward the Somme. They withdrew at least two artillery regiments from Verdun, and we've detected troop movements from Namur as well—though we don't yet know how many."
Charles nodded calmly, eyes still fixed on supply reports. "They should be moving even more troops from Namur. Given recent developments, there's no reason for them to maintain strong defenses there."
Tijani paused briefly. "Perhaps the British tanks at the Somme are causing the Germans concern."
Charles looked up, puzzled. "Tanks?"
Tijani handed him a newspaper, allowing a faintly triumphant smile. "It seems even you miss things occasionally."
Charles unfolded the paper. Its headline declared boldly:
"British Army Deploys New Type of Tank, Achieves Major Victory at the Somme!"
A photo showed clearly recognizable British Whippet tanks moving forward, though Charles quickly discerned it as mere propaganda.
He smiled darkly. "Their ugly secret is about to be exposed."
Tijani's expression shifted abruptly from amusement to confusion. "Secret? What secret?"
While British and French commanders attempted to portray the Somme offensive as successful, the stark reality on the battlefield quickly unraveled their carefully crafted narrative. Reports of horrific casualties soon spread, first through whispers from wounded soldiers, then increasingly in newspapers willing to challenge official silence.
Initially, French civilians dismissed reports of heavy British casualties as irrelevant. After all, what difference did British losses make to France? Some privately even saw it as justice for Britain's arrogance. Officially, the narrative remained one of cautious optimism: despite setbacks, ultimate victory was near.
But that narrative collapsed when reporters finally reached the front lines, driven by intense curiosity about Britain's mysterious new tanks. Instead of victory, they found devastation on an unimaginable scale.
Pictures published in Parisian newspapers stunned the French public:
Le Matin headlined with shock: "This Is Not a Battle—It's a Slaughter!" alongside grim photographs of bodies piled on mud-choked ground, tanks destroyed, and wounded soldiers crawling helplessly amid relentless shelling.
Le Petit Parisien went even further: "We were promised quick victories, yet we've only achieved fields littered with corpses. Soldiers charge bravely, only to be cut down without mercy. What strategy is this? What madness commands it?"
Even the conservative Le Figaro presented a haunting photo—one decomposing corpse bloated grotesquely, face half-eaten by rodents, eyes vacant. Beneath it, chilling details explained how soldiers on both sides grew accustomed to frequent "corpse explosions" at night, caused by gases accumulating inside decomposing bodies until they burst violently.
France's wealthy elite, casually reading their newspapers over morning coffee and pastries, suddenly found their appetites ruined. This shocking imagery exposed the gruesome reality they'd long ignored, sparking outrage among influential circles.
But the most troubling revelation came when reporters questioned returning soldiers and discovered the French army faced similar horrors. Despite General Nivelle's reassuring statements—repeatedly promising imminent victory—thousands of Frenchmen were dying futilely in muddy trenches alongside their British allies.
Public outrage soon erupted across France. Newspapers demanded transparency:
"How many more must die for meaningless yards of land?"
"Why have we been deceived about battlefield realities?"
Under mounting pressure, Parliament convened urgently, forcing the government to confront growing public anger. Embarrassed officials scrambled desperately, demanding Nivelle immediately provide accurate casualty figures and explanations.
Far away at his headquarters near the Somme, General Nivelle received Parliament's demand with alarm. Revealing the truth—that his promised victory had turned into catastrophic stalemate—could cost him his command or worse. He had to produce results quickly, no matter how costly.
Desperate, Nivelle finally considered an unthinkable option: calling upon Charles. Though humiliating, bringing in Charles's proven armored divisions might rescue Nivelle's reputation and salvage the faltering offensive.
Yet his pride prevented him from directly ordering Charles's forces to intervene. Instead, Nivelle decided to manipulate parliamentary pressure to indirectly force Charles into action. That way, if success followed, Nivelle could claim credit without openly admitting failure or begging Charles for help.
But unbeknownst to Nivelle or the British commanders, their darkest secrets had already begun surfacing—carefully hidden lies now unraveling before a shocked and betrayed public.
The so-called "great victory" at the Somme was collapsing, its horrible truth exposed for all to see. And soon enough, Charles would seize this opportunity—not merely to achieve another battlefield triumph, but to deliver an unprecedented humiliation to the very commanders who had so recklessly tried to undermine him.
For General Nivelle and the British high command, their lies were finally catching up to them. The world was about to discover precisely how they'd concealed their catastrophic incompetence, sacrificing tens of thousands of lives to preserve their own failing reputations.
And Charles would ensure that this truth echoed loudly and mercilessly throughout history.
(End of Chapter 529)
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