I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 46: The Despicable Middlemen

Since civilian homes didn't usually have a dedicated parlor or office for private conversations, Camille quickly cleared off their still-cluttered dining table to create a makeshift meeting area. Charles stole a glance at Gallieni, taking in the older man's unpolished appearance: glasses tilted slightly askew on his nose, a small, scruffy white mustache, and a suit that didn't quite fit. It was hard to imagine this disheveled, frail-looking old man was one of France's most brilliant generals.

Before Charles or Deyoka could speak, Gallieni took the lead, saying, "I'm sure you're both wondering why I've come to see you so discreetly."

Deyoka nodded in curiosity, while Charles remained calm.

Gallieni seemed surprised at Charles's composure. "You've already guessed, haven't you?"

"You don't want those capitalists in the Senate knowing," Charles replied.

"Smart boy!" Gallieni smiled, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "I'd expect no less from the inventor of the tank and the sidecar-mounted machine gun. If I'm not mistaken, that strategy that Major Brownie used was your idea, wasn't it?"

Charles didn't deny it; it was no secret to someone as astute as Gallieni.

Deyoka looked hesitantly at Charles, uncertain whether to bring up their recent efforts to lure the German forces toward Davaz. But Charles said, "We can't hide it from the General, Father. He knows we were behind it."

Gallieni's face showed surprise, then dawning realization. "You were the ones who drew the Germans toward us to expose their flank? I'd suspected, but I hadn't imagined it was really you…"

"It was all Charles's idea, General!" Deyoka added.

Gallieni looked at Charles, his gaze openly admiring. "Remarkable thinking, Charles. I'd never have thought of that. Especially the rumor you spread, convincing the Germans that Paris was an abandoned city—it fooled everyone!"

"If Kluck knew he was outwitted by a seventeen-year-old, I wonder how he'd feel."

"I'm seventeen, General!" Charles protested.

Gallieni laughed. He could see Charles's youthful pride and almost wished he could appreciate his own age in the same way. Watching Charles, Gallieni's expression softened, his tone shifting from formal to a more grandfatherly warmth.

"Now then, let's get to the point, young man."

"You've probably heard what's going on with the tank," he said. "Since you sold the patent to Grevy, they've used the war as leverage to pressure the military into negotiating endlessly."

Deyoka began to protest. "We had no choice, General…"

"I understand," Gallieni interrupted. "Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Deyoka—I'm not here to reprimand you. The patent is yours, and you had every right to sell it to whomever you chose. I'm here to see if we can solve the problem together."

"What problem?" Deyoka asked, still a bit puzzled.

Gallieni didn't answer immediately. Instead, he slowly took a box of cigarettes from his coat, pulling out two and placing them side by side on the table.

"This one represents you, and this one represents the army. The army needs tanks, and you produce them. In an ideal world, that's a simple transaction between buyer and seller. However…"

He placed the cigarette box between them, tapping it with his finger so it made a hollow thud. "The Senate is in the way, gentlemen. The army's purchases require the Senate's approval, so you have no direct contact with us. This leads to problems—inefficiency, inflated costs, lower quality, delays. And we have no choice but to accept whatever is offered! Meanwhile, you're pressured into selling and, eventually, forced to sell off your patents."

Deyoka nodded as the realization hit him. "So, those capitalists controlling the Senate have essentially forced their way in as middlemen, pocketing the profits along the way."

It dawned on him then why Gallieni, as a high-ranking general, had to meet with Charles in such secrecy. This was more than a meeting; it was a way to bypass the middlemen and go straight to the source. And interfering with the Senate's profits in such a way was no small offense. If those capitalists found out, they might arrange a real kidnapping.

"Precisely," Gallieni nodded. "It means we're forced to pay several times the cost for substandard equipment. And at times, disputes over pricing have caused us to miss critical opportunities. For instance, we're unable to get tanks right now unless we agree to a unit price of six thousand francs."

The number startled both Deyoka and Charles. The cost of a first-generation tank—a tractor with steel plating and a machine gun—was barely a little over a thousand francs. For capitalists to sell it at a six-fold markup to the military was shameless exploitation.

Gallieni's voice turned grim. "They're holding the future of France hostage, along with the lives of our soldiers and citizens, all to line their pockets with taxpayer money."

"It's appalling!" Deyoka muttered, fuming. He had known the wealthy were ruthless, but he hadn't expected them to exploit a national crisis so shamelessly. "How can they stop the army from making its own purchases?"

"They argue that the military shouldn't have too much power," Gallieni explained. "They fear that if we gain too much influence, the military could control the state."

Deyoka fell silent. From the capitalists' perspective, this was a convenient justification.

Charles asked, "General, what can we do? We can't change the system."

"You're correct," Gallieni replied, nodding approvingly. "If you were just as greedy as those capitalists, we'd be powerless. Because the moment the army tried to negotiate with you, they'd step in with offers double or triple the price to shut down our transaction. They always win these bidding wars."

Charles nodded. He understood that the capitalists were using state funds, not their own, while the military had limited funds and couldn't compete.

"But with a conscientious manufacturer, things could be different," Gallieni said, his piercing gaze fixed on Charles. "This would mean resisting the capitalists' offers and prioritizing a partnership with the military—even if it means earning less. It would require you to ally with us, to stand together against their control. Can you do that?"

Deyoka's expression grew tense. After all, a business's goal was to maximize profits. The highest bidder wins—that was market logic. But here Gallieni was asking them to defy this logic and sell to the military at a lower price. To the capitalists, this would seem like madness.

Gallieni never took his eyes off Charles. He'd done his research, knowing Charles had used his own funds to aid field hospitals and support the wounded. He believed Charles was someone with a conscience; otherwise, he wouldn't have come here.

Charles considered for a moment before asking, "General, can you solve the military's procurement issues? I mean, can you bypass the Senate and buy directly?"

Gallieni answered without hesitation. "The emergency war statutes give the military the authority to choose its own suppliers in wartime. We're authorized to secure the best equipment available."

He paused before adding, "But, of course, it has to truly be 'the best.'"

(End of Chapter)

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