I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France Chapter 592: Revised - 592 Material Decides Everything

Sorry, only one Chapter today as I am quite busy!

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Antwerp’s morning was adorned in silver, snowflakes drifting gently from the grayish sky, falling softly on the rooftops of the ancient city, the long streets, and into the groves.

This city was a fortress, known to the Belgians as the "National Fortress," and it was the last refuge for the small nation.

To resist potential enemy assaults for a prolonged period, the fortress designers had built an extensive underground facility on the eastern side of the city to withstand possible artillery fire.

At this mont, Admiral Avis was using it as a warehouse.

Admiral Avis stood in the snowy field, watching the flow of vehicles on the road; they were like ants moving house, transporting the materials from the port into the underground facility.

At this stage, the most valuable asset was supplies; they ant everything.

Admiral Avis knew it was unsafe to pile up supplies at the port. The warehouses there were all open-air, and a considerable portion of the supplies consisted of munitions; if German warplanes were to bomb them, it could all go up in flas.

The best solution was to move them into the underground warehouses.

Watching the vehicles loaded with supplies, a slight smile appeared on Admiral Avis’s lips.

How long can you hold out, Frenchn?

Shire cannot give you bread, nor can he give you ammunition. He is not Moses, who can produce supplies with the wave of a staff.

If you do not want to exhaust your ammunition and food, you should bow down to us, especially that Shire!

Whenever Shire ca to mind, a deep hatred flashed in Admiral Avis’s eyes.

"General," a staff officer leaned in to remind Admiral Avis, "it’s General Eden."

Following the staff officer’s gaze, Admiral Avis saw Major General Eden approaching through the fluttering snowflakes, accompanied by several guards. Snow had gathered on his cap and shoulders, indicating he had been outside for so ti.

"Good morning, General." Major General Eden greeted in fluent English, stepping forward to shake Admiral Avis’s hand.

"Good morning, Major General." Admiral Avis responded.

He was sowhat surprised. These Belgian generals were usually unfriendly and difficult to the British, yet Major General Eden seed overly enthusiastic.

But in the next mont, Admiral Avis understood—it must be because of the supplies. They know who the real masters are!

With this thought, Admiral Avis straightened his chest, his voice filled with authority and a touch of arrogance: "Long ti no see, Major General. Aren’t you stationed in Namur? What brings you here?"

Major General Eden gestured toward the fortress defenses a kiloter away: "I am here for an inspection, having heard that the Germans might take significant action soon."

"Significant action?" Admiral Avis raised an eyebrow: "You an attacking Antwerp?"

Major General Eden nodded, then questioned, "Haven’t you heard?"

"No," Admiral Avis shook his head dismissively, "that’s impossible, Major General, unless the Germans have gone mad!"

This line is manned by over 300,000 British troops, well-ard and robust. The Germans could not possibly attack here.

If they were to attack, it should be on Shire’s 6th Army, thought Admiral Avis, as the 6th Army was recovering from a mutiny and was short of supplies and ammunition.

Major General Eden seed to read Admiral Avis’s mind. He smiled slightly, "Maybe the Germans are already scared of Shire, General."

This made Admiral Avis’s expression a bit grim, but he didn’t argue with Eden, coolly responding, "Is that so?"

Let’s wait and see, the Germans would be fools to abandon the easier target.

This is part of Kitchener’s plan; he hopes to use the German Army to force Shire into submission.

Kitchener’s exact words were: "If Shire refuses to yield, the Germans will beat him into submission. Shire has two choices: be defeated by the Germans or seek ’cooperation’ with us."

Everyone believed Shire would choose "cooperation," provided he wasn’t foolish.

Major General Eden took a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to Admiral Avis, confidently responding, "Yes, Admiral, I think they will attack Antwerp."

Lighting the cigarette for Admiral Avis, Major General Eden added, "Because it is well known they would attack at the enemy’s weak point."

It took Admiral Avis a mont to understand Major General Eden’s implication: the British-held line is the weak point.

Just then, as he was halfway through his cigarette, he choked and coughed violently, tears coming to his eyes.

When he had finally recovered, Admiral Avis shook his head, glanced at Major General Eden, and sighed, "You will understand, Major General."

Admiral Avis did not lose his temper because the Belgians, including King Albert I, were their allies.

But before Admiral Avis could finish speaking, a sudden burst of artillery fire echoed in the distance.

Admiral Avis looked towards the direction of the artillery sound, raising his binoculars but seeing nothing through the falling snow.

"General," a signal officer, struggling in the deep snow, ran towards them, panting and speaking with steamy breath, "Our frontline is under heavy bombardnt by the Germans; their artillery fire is intense. The Germans might be launching a full-scale attack on us!"

Admiral Avis was stunned. The Germans are really attacking Antwerp?

At this mont, Major General Eden asked, "What do you hope I understand, General?"

A hint of embarrassnt flashed in Admiral Avis’s eyes, but he stubbornly replied, "This might just be a small-scale attack."

However, news soon flooded in:

"General, the Germans have launched an attack with hundreds of tanks, at least five divisions strong!"

"The enemy’s attack is coordinated and well-organized. Their submarines are attacking simultaneously."

"We have lost over a dozen rchant ships to the Germans just now, and the losses are continuing!"

...

Admiral Avis’s expression changed.

If the Germans attacked from both the sea and land, this would not be a small-scale attack, but a pincer movent aid at the port city of Antwerp.

...

In the Atlantic Ocean, only 70 nautical miles from Antwerp, a convoy of over 50 rchant ships was ambushed by a pack of German submarines.

The Germans were smart; they had gathered 38 submarines to launch a coordinated attack, sinking half of the 12 escorting British destroyers imdiately. The remaining destroyers, in a chaotic scramble to counterattack, were soon either incapacitated or destroyed. The last two, seeing the hopeless situation, fled, abandoning the rchant ships.

The rchant ships fell prey to the German submarines, unable to fight back. Flas and capsizing vessels filled the scene; so ships tilted, exposing their propellers; others exploded in bursts of fire.

The sea was strewn with sailors clinging to floating debris, shivering in the icy water, eyes filled with deep despair.