Chapter 279: The Pressure of Public Opinion
Upon returning to headquarters, Charles was surprised to find Gallieni absent from his desk.
"Is the general still at the Assembly?" Charles asked Lieutenant Colonel Fernand.
"No, he's back," Fernand replied, nodding toward the rest room, his expression both anxious and angry. "They 'grilled' the general for over two hours. It looks like his old injury has flared up again."
Charles nodded, grabbed a cup of coffee, and walked to the door of the rest room, knocking lightly.
"Come in," Gallieni's weakened voice called out.
Charles entered carefully, setting the coffee down on the table. "General, do you need me to call a medic?"
Gallieni sat up slowly, his face pale and brows knit in pain. He shook his head. "The pain is from the shrapnel left in the wound—medics can't do much for it."
"You don't need to argue with them," Charles said, steering the conversation toward the Assembly. "It's like your injury, a problem rooted inside. No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to stop it."
Gallieni froze mid-sip, setting his cup back down. "So, in other words, they're going to send you to the front eventually?"
"Yes," Charles replied. "It's not a matter of should or shouldn't—they'll do it because I don't yet have enough influence."
Gallieni paused, then nodded slightly. He understood the situation well enough. The right-wing factions feared that Charles's success would steer France into a new era of industrial progress, potentially sidelining them completely. Though the left seemed aligned with Charles's interests as fellow industrialists, many on the left also saw him as a competitor, wary of his rapid ascent. Both sides, in their own ways, wanted him out of the picture.
The simplest solution was to send Charles to the front lines.
Gallieni couldn't help but scoff, "When they assigned you to the military, they did it under the guise of 'boosting morale'—when in fact, they were hoping the danger would take care of you."
Charles didn't respond. The truth was more complicated than Gallieni realized.
Before, even the Assembly couldn't force him into direct combat because the French people wouldn't have tolerated it. Had the Assembly tried, they'd have faced public outrage, protests, and likely even a general strike.
But now, even the public seemed to want Charles to take control of the mess in the Dardanelles:
"Only Charles can win this battle. We need him to command!"
"This is the decisive fight—winning here could end the war!"
"So many soldiers are sacrificing their lives on the front line. Only Charles can save them!"
Each voice echoed different motives. Some believed that if France succeeded where Britain was failing, they'd feel proud, even superior. Others had family members fighting in the Dardanelles and wanted them brought home safely. And some hoped that if Charles led them to victory, France might finally see an end to the war.
So in this light, the Assembly wasn't ignoring the public will—they were "giving voice to the people of France."
Of course, this shift in sentiment was heavily influenced by the right-wing and other industrialists manipulating the press, with papers like Le Petit Journal subtly pushing the narrative.
Charles didn't mention any of this to Gallieni. The general, a career soldier, concerned himself with battlefields, not political machinations or media influence.
"I'm of age now," Charles continued calmly. "If they can't sway you, soon they'll come directly to me."
Gallieni paused, realizing that this could indeed happen. The Assembly had the authority to question any member of the government or military, as long as it didn't breach military confidentiality.
"When that time comes," Charles added, "they'll ask a question I can't avoid answering: 'Colonel, as a soldier, are you willing to fight for France in the Dardanelles?'"
Charles dragged a chair closer to Gallieni, leaning in with a confident smile. "What do you think I should say?"
Either response—"I'm unwilling" or "I'm willing"—would carry serious consequences. The former would mark him a disgrace to the military, a coward and deserter, erasing his reputation and undoing everything he had built. He would lose the support of the people, and with it, his power and opportunity.
The latter would mean Charles had willingly accepted the assignment. If even he volunteered to go, what grounds would Gallieni have to stop him?
Gallieni reluctantly nodded, understanding Charles's predicament. "Then you should make it clear that you'll be stationed on a ship, not directly on the front…"
Charles remained silent, looking steadily at Gallieni.
Gallieni read the expression on Charles's face, his eyes widening. "You… you're planning to go ashore?"
Charles raised his eyebrows. "Do you think they'd spare me? If I'm simply stationed on a ship, what reason would they have for sending me there in the first place?"
After a moment, Charles continued:
"They could still force me to go ashore."
"They'll send reporters along with me to follow every step of my journey," Charles explained. "Every day, they'll pester me with questions: 'What do you think of the casualties on the battlefield?' 'Do you think you should be leading on the front lines?' or 'Why are you still on the ship and not fighting?'"
"How should I respond then?"
Gallieni finally understood. They would manipulate public opinion, using it as a weapon to pressure Charles onto the battlefield. If he refused, he'd be branded a coward and would lose everything he'd achieved.
"It's not that I want to go to the front," Charles concluded. "But rather than be dragged there by them, I'd rather request the assignment myself."
Gallieni stared at Charles, finally acknowledging that he was right. Being forced to go meant having no say in how he went, leaving him open to attack, even assassination attempts. But if he volunteered, he could control his terms, including the choice of a reliable unit.
Gallieni sighed, conceding, "Very well. This day would have come sooner or later."
After a moment's thought, Gallieni said, "I can arrange for a reinforcement unit of three thousand men to the Dardanelles. You'll go as part of their staff."
"Yes, sir," Charles replied, standing to attention.
Gallieni looked him over. "Any other requests?"
"Yes, I'd like two weeks to make preparations."
Gallieni nodded his assent.
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