I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France Chapter 561: The British Right of Priority

Shire handed over the command of the 6th Army Group to Kristen, planning to dry his clothes before heading back to Paris to enjoy his vacation.

But he received a telegram from Petain as soon as he hesitated:

"Unbelievable, Fuxu beca the commander-in-chief, he actually beca the commander-in-chief!"

"Facts have proven that his offensive theory is wrong, absolutely wrong! The army has suffered heavy casualties under such unrealistic combat theories, yet they chose him as the commander-in-chief."

"Compared to your achievents, his rits are nothing, especially since you just won the victory at the River Som. But they still made this decision!"

...

Shire saw anger and a hint of incitent in this telegram. Petain hoped Shire could fight against Fuxu.

Of course, Shire wouldn’t fall for it. He replied:

"I am also surprised, General. I always thought you were the most suitable candidate for the commander-in-chief, and I still think so now."

"Although I have so achievents, as others say, my age is a problem. I need more experience, and more importantly, I cannot completely sever ties with capitalists."

"To be honest, I am more willing to give up my military identity and beco a pure businessman. Sotis, I do not even understand what I am doing or why I am doing it. I could be lying in a warm ho enjoying life, why am I rolling in this muddy and dangerous battlefield."

"I also feel it’s unjust for you not to be recognized for your contributions at Verdun, General. You can be said to have saved France!"

Shire’s words sounded like a complaint, but it was actually conveying a ssage to Petain: I am not interested in being the commander-in-chief, and I know the parliant cannot choose . But you are different. With your achievents at Verdun, you can be said to have saved France at a critical mont. How could they not choose you?

As a result, Petain’s attempt to provoke a quarrel between Shire and Fuxu failed, and instead, he was alienated by Shire.

When he received the telegram, he angrily threw the coffee cup in his hand onto the table, causing a crisp sound, and coffee splashed all over the table, even dirtying the docunts.

The staff hurriedly stepped forward to tidy up.

Petain walked to the observation window by himself, gazing at the German Army’s defense line in the distance, and said in a muffled voice: "While we are fighting against the Germans, Fuxu is warming himself by the fire in a comfortable office, smoking cigars. All he did was viciously criticize Shire, and then he beca the commander-in-chief."

Perhaps blinded by anger, he did not connect "viciously criticizing Shire" with "becoming the commander-in-chief."

Otherwise, he might have figured out the relationship among the three of them.

It was precisely because Petain did not figure it out that a very magical situation appeared: Petain and Fuxu were rivals, but at the sa ti, they were both allies of Shire.

...

Dusk was falling, and twilight was thickening. Shire’s convoy was advancing in the rain on the bumpy road.

That was Shire’s communication squad and guard platoon, a total of three cars and one small car, heading to the train station.

Perhaps it would be faster to take a plane to Paris, but at this ti, planes were "open-roofed," and it was winter and rainy. Flying wouldn’t be a good experience.

Shire suspected he would be frozen to death before reaching Paris.

However, what Shire did not expect was that taking the train, especially a warti train, was not as simple as he thought.

The train station was set up in the small town of Saint Sena, fifteen kiloters from the front line, a distance that ensured the German 105MM artillery could not cover the train station to destroy warehouses and materials.

It was also a transit station, with supplies and reinforcents transported here, then transferred to the front line. Wounded soldiers from the front line waiting to be transported back also gathered here.

When Shire’s convoy entered the town, the sight was full of wounded soldiers, both severely and lightly injured.

Most of them used a rain cape to shield themselves from the rain, with so simply hiding under eaves, curling up in corners and shivering in the cold wind, and others leaning against walls, motionless, uncertain whether they were dead or asleep.

Doctors, nurses, and volunteers were dragging their tired bodies back and forth in the rain, many so exhausted they were like zombies, dragging their legs, but the sheer number of patients still overwheld them.

The wounded soldiers looked pitifully at the convoy heading to the train station, seemingly hoping the cars could give them a ride.

Shire sighed inwardly. These should be the wounded left behind during Nivelle’s tenure, when the casualties were so enormous that they still hadn’t been transported back.

However, Shire did not know that this was only one of the reasons.

The closer they got to the train station, the more wounded there were. The area outside the train station was already crowded with wounded, and heavily ard troops were needed to maintain order and barely make a passage for the convoy to enter.

Shire noticed sothing unusual.

"Why are the guards and order maintainers all British soldiers?" Shire asked, even though the light was poor, the tommy helts of the British soldiers were easily identifiable: "If it weren’t for knowing this was the River Som, I would have thought I was in England."

"I am not sure, General," the servant Adrian replied: "It might have sothing to do with the British being responsible for material transportation."

Shire replied with an "Oh," which seed reasonable. During this period, the French Army’s materials mainly relied on the British, especially Nivelle, who was half-British. He would certainly open so rights to the British.

But soon, Shire realized that Nivelle had opened more than just "so rights" to the British.

The convoy proceeded along the passage and finally stopped in front of the train.

A British Army Captain shone a flashlight on the pass Adrian handed over, casually swept the light over the guards, arrogantly returned the pass, and waved his hand impatiently, shouting: "Carriage No. 5, hurry up!"

Adrian frowned, how could this guy use such a tone and attitude towards Shire?

The guards also glared angrily, and if Shire hadn’t intervened, they would have given the Captain a few gun stocks on the spot.

Shire did not want to cause unnecessary trouble. Maintaining order was not wrong. If there was chaos at the train station, it would delay traffic and even cause congestion, which would not be a small matter for the front line.

However, when Shire found Carriage No. 5 and was about to board, he suddenly noticed sothing strange.

With one foot already in the carriage, he turned back suddenly and looked around in confusion.

"What is it, General?" Adrian, who was following behind, stopped.

Shire asked: "Did you notice that all the surrounding wounded are British?"

Adrian looked around and guessed: "This train might be for transporting British wounded soldiers."

Shire shook his head, his gaze gradually turning cold: "But all the wounded waiting outside are French soldiers!"

Shire realized that the British were using their materials and control over the puppet to achieve the right to prioritize the transport of their wounded.