Chapter 722: So Money Really Can Do Anything
"Why should our destroyers be built by the Nihon?" Charles asked, his voice sharp with anger.
"This dates back a few months," Wells explained.
"Before we even decided to build destroyers ourselves, the navy had already begun looking abroad to fulfill escort and combat needs."
"But neither Britain nor the United States could take the order."
"Britain's own wartime demands are overwhelming. Every shipyard is rushing to launch vessels into combat—they have no spare capacity for us."
"And the U.S. is stockpiling for Atlantic convoy operations. They've already ordered 400 destroyers, and even if everything goes smoothly, we'd be looking at a two-year wait."
"That's assuming they can even meet delivery deadlines in wartime conditions."
(Image above: During WWI, the U.S. ramped up destroyer production massively. Though not yet the top global power, its GDP had long ranked first—an indicator of unmatched industrial capacity. Even without full mobilization, they could finish more than 20 destroyers in a single month.)
"Can't France build them ourselves?" Charles asked.
He was genuinely puzzled. The plans for the new destroyers had been with Wells for some time. If they'd had U.S.-level production speed, they'd be halfway done by now. How could the program be canceled just like that?
Wells answered with a sigh:
"We've been preparing all this time. You may not be aware, General, but the shipyards are in rough shape."
"When the war broke out, most auxiliary factories were repurposed to produce ammunition and equipment for the army. It'll take time to restore their original functions."
Charles felt like the floor had dropped out beneath him.
So the destroyers hadn't even begun construction—they were still in the preparation phase. And now the navy was arguing over limited production capacity with the army.
No wonder parliament found it easy to justify passing the contract to Nihon.
Wells continued, "Just then, the Nihon naval attaché in France approached the Minister of the Navy with a proposal. They offered to build the ships for us. And so..."
There was nothing more to say.
The Minister of the Navy was from the Toulon faction. He didn't want the Brest shipyards to revive. So he simply handed the order over to Nihon.
Charles said nothing for a while.
On the surface, there was nothing wrong with the arrangement.
Nihon had both spare capacity and the necessary technology. Meanwhile, France was suffering severe wartime shortages in both resources and manufacturing. So from a civilian perspective—especially one with little military knowledge—it looked like a smart, mutually beneficial decision.
(Note: At this time, Nihon's navy ranked 4th globally, even above France's, which was 5th.)
But Charles understood the deeper implication.
If these 10 destroyers weren't built at the Brest shipyards, then those shipyards might be doomed.
And once that precedent was set, all future naval construction plans might be handed to Nihon—again and again.
Even if France restarted warship production later, the contract would likely go to Toulon.
As Charles mulled this over, a certain phrase from Wells stuck out in his memory.
"You said, the Nihon attaché contacted the Minister of the Navy first?" Charles asked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Wells replied firmly. "We didn't reach out to Nihon. Just ten years ago, we were selling warships to them. Our navy has always looked down on their craftsmanship. No one would voluntarily seek their help."
Hearing this, Charles began to understand.
Nihon had long been looked down upon by Europe and America. And with its deeply ingrained submissiveness, Nihon yearned to shed its Asian identity and fully emulate the West.
(Note: Nihon's "Datsu-A Ron," or "Leave Asia for Europe" theory, originated in 1885, promoted by Fukuzawa Yukichi in the newspaper Jiji Shinpo.)
At this point in history, Nihon was experiencing something similar to Romania's recent psychology.
They saw that the Entente was winning on both fronts. Romania had declared war on the Central Powers. On the surface, it looked like the alliance was collapsing.
To them, the West would soon be ruled by the Entente.
So if they didn't hurry and demonstrate loyalty now, they might never have the chance again.
Thus, they approached France proactively.
Charles also remembered that, historically, Nihon had indeed built warships for France during this period.
He recalled the "Arabe-class"—produced quickly, with good quality, and at an incredibly low price. Yet the French still nitpicked and mocked the ships relentlessly.
Nihon, in the end, had put in immense effort and received no thanks.
(Image above: The Nihon-built "Arabe-class" destroyer during WWI, based on the Momo-class. A total of 12 were sold to France.)
Charles had never considered himself "superior" to others—not even when he fought side by side with colonial troops at the Dardanelles.
But if someone was desperately trying to show loyalty… why not let them?
A little coldness made them flinch. A few sneers made them grateful.
Why waste a good opportunity?
With that, Charles told Wells, "Continue the original project. Don't let outside interference disrupt it."
"But General," Wells hesitated. "The Minister of the Navy—"
Charles cut him off, voice firm. "It's my money, Wells. If the Minister wants to change the plan, he can pay for it himself. Understood?"
Wells finally saw the light.
From an authority standpoint, no one could override the Minister's decision—not Wells, not General Caplat, not even Charles or Gallieni.
Military departments couldn't place orders directly with capitalists like Wells. Everything had to go through parliament.
However—
If the destroyers were being donated by Charles, then he could dictate where they were built.
Not even the Navy Minister or parliament had the right to interfere.
Charles could simply say:
"I'm donating warships, not money. And I haven't donated them yet—they're still my private property. What right does parliament have to decide what I do with them?"
"I understand, General," Wells said, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
With Charles's backing, restarting destroyer construction at Brest was as good as guaranteed.
"And get in touch with the Nihon embassy's naval attaché," Charles added. "I want to speak with him about the shipbuilding project."
Wells sounded hesitant. "But General… the attaché has been speaking with the Minister of the Navy."
Charles's move was a direct challenge to the Minister's authority.
Was he really going to tell the world that the Nihon attaché should be negotiating with him—not the Minister?
That Charles now outranked a cabinet member?
That the Minister's dignity could be casually trampled?
"Tell the Minister this," Charles said calmly.
"The Bernard Group plans to place another order with Nihon. So I need to discuss the technical details directly. Whether it goes forward or not—that's for the Minister to decide."
Wells blinked—then lit up with a smile.
Brilliant. Now the Minister had no reason to object.
After all, this meant ten more warships for the French navy.
Even if the Minister lost face, he had no choice but to agree.
Money really can do anything.
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