January 10th, 1935, Ministry of Defense, Paris.
The day began before the sun had fully risen.
The halls of the Ministry of Defense were dim and quiet when Moreau arrived, uniform pressed, case in hand.
He found General Beauchamp already at the long table in the briefing room, flipping through a thick folder of committee notes.
"Sit," Beauchamp said, not looking up. "They moved the session up by an hour."
Moreau took a seat and opened his own notes.
Monts later, the door opened again, and Commandant de Gaulle stepped inside, carrying a notebook tucked beneath his arm.
"Gentlen," he said, nodding.
"Coffee's awful today," Beauchamp muttered. "Try to ignore it. We've got thirty minutes to coordinate before we walk into a room filled with people who think you're both lunatics."
Moreau gave a tight smile. "Better a lunatic than a ghost."
Beauchamp tossed him a page of projected costs. "Don't make jokes in there. Numbers first. Doctrine second."
De Gaulle sat beside Moreau. "Have you seen the deputy list?"
Beauchamp nodded. "Four from the Maginot committee. Two hardline conservatives. One from Naval Intelligence he'll push back hard on funding anything that doesn't float."
Moreau skimd the nas. "Anyone on our side?"
"One," Beauchamp said. "Bertrand. He's young, ex-artillery. Thinks like an officer, not a bookkeeper. But don't count on him to speak unless he's pushed."
"Understood," de Gaulle said.
Beauchamp stood. "We're not going in to win the war. We're going in to win space. All we need is authorization to form one test division. Quiet. Controlled. We'll ask for the smallest bite possible."
"Small bites build habits," Moreau said.
Beauchamp pointed at him. "Exactly."
30 Mintues later they entered the through the side entrance.
The Palais Bourbon was already buzzing, journalists loitering near the press room, aides rushing papers up stairwells.
Moreau followed Beauchamp and de Gaulle up the narrow corridor that led to the defense committee chamber.
It wasn't Moreau's first ti in the building, but it felt different now.
He felt more in power then last ti he ca.
Inside the committee room, twenty n sat behind long desks in three staggered rows.
Folders were open.
Pens tapped quietly.
Two generals sat along the back wall, arms folded.
The chairman, Deputy Marchand, a white-haired man with wire-rimd glasses and a low voice, gestured to the front.
"Gentlen. Let's begin."
Beauchamp took the lead, stepping behind the podium.
"ssieurs," he said, "thank you for the opportunity. What we bring today is not a radical proposal, but a necessary step. It is based on efficiency, not expansion. On clarity, not speculation."
He outlined the context: changing doctrine across Europe, German attempt to rearmant, colonial mobility, and budget limitations.
Then he turned slightly.
"I'll now allow my officers to present the concept."
Moreau stood.
"Our goal," Moreau began, "is to establish a single chanized division. Not to mirror German secret developnts, but to test a distinctly French approach to mobile warfare. It would combine armor, motorized infantry, fast artillery, and tactical air liaison designed for speed, coordination, and strategic depth."
He let the room breathe.
"This unit would not exist to replace existing forces, but to operate where lines fail. Where terrain shifts. Where static defense cannot reach."
De Gaulle followed, explaining the structure regints, support groups, recon detachnts.
The room was mostly quiet.
Until it wasn't.
One deputy, a portly man in a thick wool suit, cleared his throat.
"Major Moreau," he said, "you seem convinced that France needs to mimic Germany. Tell when did the French Army begin looking to Berlin for its inspiration?"
Moreau's tone remained respectful. "We're not looking to Berlin, monsieur. We're looking to the future. The principles of mobility are not German they are universal."
Another voice chid in an older general in the back. "And what happens when you give a column of tanks too much freedom? Who commands them? What stops chaos?"
De Gaulle answered this ti. "Discipline. Structure. Clear objectives. The sa things that make infantry work, only faster."
"But faster often ans out of control," the general replied.
Moreau stepped back in. "Fast doesn't an reckless. It ans we choose when to act, and where. We regain the initiative."
Deputy Marchand leaned forward. "What about the Maginot Line? Is this division ant to replace it?"
"No," Moreau said. "It's ant to support it. Where the line ends, the division begins."
There was a pause.
A younger deputy from the second row Bertrand finally spoke.
"If the goal is to prevent France from being caught off guard, then this seems like insurance. It's not a gamble. It's a test."
Beauchamp nodded to him subtly.
Moreau closed his portion by returning to the only language politicians respected: consequence.
"If this unit fails," he said, "you'll know quickly. It will be monitored, asured, and reported on in full. But if it succeeds, you'll have given France sothing we haven't had in twenty years: an option. And if war cos and I hope it doesn't, it's options we'll need."
He stepped back.
The room stayed silent for a few monts longer.
Then Deputy Marchand spoke again.
"You're asking for discretion. No press. No fanfare."
"Yes," Beauchamp said. "Let us build it quietly. We'll take oversight. We'll take accountability. Just give us room."
Marchand looked around.
No one spoke against it.
Not aloud, anyway.
"Very well," he said. "You'll have provisional approval. Limited scope. No public funding announcents. You will submit your formation plan by March."
De Gaulle gave the faintest nod. Moreau exhaled quietly.
Beauchamp didn't smile but he looked satisfied.
Outside the Palais Bourbon, the three n walked slowly down the stone steps.
"They didn't say yes," de Gaulle said. "But they didn't say no."
"That's all we needed," Beauchamp replied. "Now we start building."
He paused and turned to Moreau.
"You speak well in that room. Too well. So of them are going to start watching you more closely."
"I'm used to that," Moreau said.
De Gaulle glanced sideways at him. "You knew exactly what to say to keep them from panicking."
Moreau shrugged. "I've seen enough panic to know how to prevent it."
They stopped at the curb.
"You may have just started sothing permanent," de Gaulle said.
"No," Moreau replied. "We all did."
They shook hands, and each went his separate way.
Reviews
All reviews (0)