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

Chapter 87 - The Congreve Rockets

The midday breeze carried the sweet scent of azaleas as Charles walked alone along the path in the garden behind the fortress headquarters, his expression somewhat dejected.

The sudden appearance of a third Big Bertha had shattered everyone's hopes. Victory, like a delicate soap bubble, had been popped, vanishing without a trace.

Charles also learned the true reason for the German army's fierce assault. General Ghys had told him during the morning briefing, ignoring Albert I's attempts to stop him. Staring at Charles, Ghys said, "The Germans are after you. If you surrender, you can save all of us."

Charles knew exactly what Ghys was implying: he wanted Charles to willingly surrender to the Germans to spare Antwerp. Charles scoffed at the suggestion and countered, "What will you do when they next demand you hand over the King?"

Ghys had no answer; he knew well that the Germans were not known for honoring their promises. If they'd kept their word, they wouldn't have invaded neutral Belgium in the first place.

The issue still remained unsolved, and the thunderous sounds of Big Bertha's shells drew closer. Even with the cover of smoke around Fort Wavre, it was only a matter of time before it would be genuinely destroyed.

Was there any way to counter it?

Charles thought of airplanes. Planes had the advantage of attacking from above, bypassing the limitations of ground artillery range. However, airplanes of this era lacked any real weaponry. If they carried anything at all, it was makeshift: bricks, fishing nets, tail hooks, even steel darts.

Placing explosives on the plane? Europe's grenades hadn't fully developed yet, and they still relied on spherical explosives. Dropping one from a plane posed several problems: if dropped from too high, the explosive might detonate mid-air, causing no damage to the target. Too low, and the impact could break the shell, rendering it useless. Even if it landed intact on soft ground, the enemy would have time to disarm it.

An effective aerial bomb needed three essential features:

A strong shell that wouldn't shatter on impact,

Stabilizing fins for steady flight, ensuring accuracy instead of random tumbling in the wind,

And a reliable fuse.

These requirements couldn't be met on short notice, especially not in resource-strapped Antwerp. Charles would have to think of another way.

Just then, he saw a squad of soldiers hurriedly carrying long, pole-like objects. Intrigued, he called out, "What kind of weapons are those?"

The soldiers, recognizing Charles, paused respectfully. One captain stepped forward and replied, "These are Congreve rockets, Lieutenant."

Though his rank was higher than Charles's, the lieutenant's reputation and the Royal Order of the Crown pinned to his chest were enough to command the captain's respect.

"Rockets?" Charles asked, moving closer for a better look.

After examining them, he understood. These rockets originated from China, later modified by a British artillery officer named William Congreve during the Napoleonic era—hence the name "Congreve rockets." They would eventually evolve into the famous "Katyusha" rockets of World War II, but in this era, they had almost entirely fallen out of use.

"The King has ordered us to prepare for a last stand, Lieutenant," the captain explained. "We need to arm everyone. The rockets may be outdated, but they're better than nothing."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. If it weren't for the dire need to arm everyone, they probably wouldn't have even bothered taking these out of storage.

"How many rockets do we have?" Charles asked.

"I'm not certain, Lieutenant," the captain replied hesitantly. "We have around two hundred rockets, but some may be damaged by moisture, so we're unsure if they'll all work."

"Keep them all," Charles ordered without hesitation. "Don't send out a single one."

"Understood, Lieutenant," the captain answered, though he still looked confused. What use could these primitive weapons have? Was Charles really planning to use them against Big Bertha?

Charles walked on, but after a few steps, he turned back and added, "You'll be in charge of these rockets. Guard them carefully—no accidents allowed."

"Yes, Lieutenant!" the captain replied.

Charles hurried back to the operations office, where the two generals and Albert I were examining a map and discussing strategy.

When they saw Charles return, they began explaining their plan:

"We're considering a new approach, Charles. With only one Big Bertha left, we think we should take the offensive, perhaps by launching a night raid."

"If the operation is planned properly, we might succeed. Destroying this last Big Bertha would give us a reprieve—at least for a while."

"But we'll need your help…"

Charles interrupted before they could finish.

"It won't work. The Germans will be on guard. Any forces we send out will be lost."

The Germans would undoubtedly guard their last Big Bertha with utmost vigilance.

Before anyone could argue, Charles turned to Albert I. "Your Majesty, I need a carriage to take me to the airfield. And there's a squad guarding a cache of rockets downstairs. I'd like to request additional men to help transport the rockets to the airfield."

"Of course," Albert replied without hesitation. "A carriage is waiting downstairs."

Charles immediately left, but just as he reached the door, he turned back and asked Ghys, "General, how many planes do we still have?"

General Ghys looked blank. He didn't know the answer. "I'll call to find out," he said, thinking, Why be concerned with planes? They hardly impact the battle.

"No need," Charles replied. "Would you mind giving me temporary command of the airfield?"

"Certainly," Ghys agreed without hesitation.

The soldiers had no current reconnaissance needs, and even if they did, the balloons could handle it. Planes were practically irrelevant to Antwerp's defense.

Without another word, Charles dashed downstairs. He needed to launch his plan before nightfall; otherwise, Fort Wavre might not hold.

The officers in the operations room exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what Charles intended.

"He's probably planning to break out of Antwerp and head back to Paris," General Winter guessed.

Ghys paused, then nodded in agreement. "He must be planning to deploy all the planes to distract the German pilots and cover his own escape. Would that count as desertion?"

"No," Albert I interrupted with a stern expression. "Charles would never do that. He's not like you, General."

Ghys felt a flash of embarrassment—and a tinge of anger. His decisions were motivated by Belgium's welfare, not cowardice!

(Historical context)

In the early days of World War I, mounting rifles or machine guns on planes was challenging. With two planes moving in a three-dimensional space at over 100 kilometers per hour, keeping a rifle steady was nearly impossible.

Machine guns faced similar problems; early models had wings or other parts blocking the optimal firing angle. Often, shooting could risk hitting the plane's own tail or wings.

Europe's soldiers, scientists, and engineers, under constant threat, had experimented widely. They'd even tried throwing bricks, fishing nets, or metal darts from planes. Bricks, though primitive, were surprisingly effective; a high-speed brick hurled from one plane to another could shatter an enemy's wing. And steel darts, fishing nets, and other improvised weapons offered similar advantages when directly hitting vital parts like the propeller.

Aerial bombs themselves didn't become accurate until later in World War II with dive bombers, which used precise dives to increase bombing accuracy. Early explosive attacks from planes were wildly inaccurate—almost like scenes from fiction.

(End of Chapter)

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