Chapter 47: Holy Road (6000)
Although Pétain was somewhat saddened by the fact that his former unit had been crippled, he knew that he had more important things to do.
He glanced at the battle report in front of him, and couldn't help but feel heavy in his heart. Those comrades who had fought side by side with him were now just cold numbers, but he couldn't let these sacrifices become meaningless.
"What is your artillery company doing! Don't tell me nonsense! We must provide artillery support to the infantry at all costs! We must never let the infantry on the front line think that our artillery is suppressed by the enemy!" Pétain propped himself up and sat up from the bed, trying to make his weak and hoarse voice sound more majestic.
Firepower is what moves the enemy forward in attack, and firepower is what stops the enemy in defense. Cannons win battles, and infantry take over. This is Pétain's military philosophy.
Like other generals, Pétain believed in a war of attrition, but he was different from other generals in one respect. French Commander-in-Chief Joffre and British Commander-in-Chief Haig believed that the Allies had more soldiers than Prussia and could serve as cannon fodder. In a one-to-one attrition war, they could kill Prussia. Their tactics were cold and practical, using their numerical superiority to fight against the enemy's military machine.
But Pétain believed that human lives should not be used to fight against the enemy's hail of bullets, and that a war of attrition should be fought with artillery rather than infantry. He had a belief in his heart, which was to reduce the sacrifice of soldiers and weaken the enemy with firepower as much as possible.
He understood that every life was precious, and he could not bear to see those young soldiers fall meaninglessly on the battlefield.
"Yes!" Several frontline commanders nearby immediately ran out of the door after receiving the order to give orders to the artillery on the front line. They had serious expressions on their faces, knowing how important the order at this moment was.
But there was a major standing beside Petain's bed with a troubled look on his face. He was an engineer in charge of transportation to Verdun. The light in the room was dim, but Petain still noticed that the major's hands were shaking slightly.
"What's wrong, Ricardo?" Petain asked, looking at the embarrassed Ricardo. His voice was hoarse, but full of unquestionable authority. His eyes were as sharp as an eagle, as if he could see through everything.
"General, our supplies may not be enough to support the fierce bombardment on the front line." Rickard said, his tone was full of deep worry. Every word seemed to weigh on his heart.
"The main railway line along the Meuse River was cut off by Prussian troops stationed on both sides of Saint-Mihiel, while the other railway line leading to Paris through Saint-Menuld was constantly bombarded by Prussian naval artillery. The interruption of these two railways has caused Verdun to run out of artillery shells, and there is no way to launch a large-scale bombardment!" His eyes revealed helplessness and worry, as if he saw the front-line soldiers falling into despair due to lack of support.
"How many transport routes do we have left?" Pétain said calmly, his eyes fixed on Ricardo, trying to find a glimmer of hope in his words.
"Now there is only one narrow-gauge railway along the Meuse River that is still transporting supplies. This railway was used to transport daily supplies for the garrison here before the war. Not much can be transported each time. There is also a secondary road leading from Bar-le-Duc to here." But Ricardo's answer was disappointing.
"The road from Bar-le-Duc to here..." Pétain came to Verdun via this road. When he recalled the scenes he saw on the road, he doubted whether this road could still be used.
"Is there no other way?" Pétain continued.
"No..." Rickard shook his head, his tone filled with helplessness and heaviness.
"How many trucks do we have now to transport supplies?" The only thing Pétain could rely on now was the narrow secondary road. He frowned, thinking about possible countermeasures. His fingers tapped unconsciously on the edge of the bed, showing his inner anxiety.
"Report to the general, we can now gather a total of 700 trucks, which can transport 1250 tons of supplies every day, but the defenders of Verdun consume 2000 tons of supplies every day, and every additional division will increase the daily consumption by 100 tons." Ricard continued, with a sense of urgency in his voice, as if every second of delay would lead to irreversible consequences.
"1250 tons?" Pétain fell into deep thought. Four divisions were already on their way to support Verdun, and the garrison at Verdun would soon reach men, plus animals. Pétain's fingers tapped faster on the bed, showing his inner anxiety and urgency.
The artillery's ammunition supply must be at least two to three times as much as before in order to provide sufficient artillery cover for the infantry. The current amount of supplies is totally insufficient.
Various possible solutions flashed through his mind, but each one was full of challenges and risks. His brows were furrowed, and deep worry was revealed in his eyes.
He thought of the taxi miracle that happened at the Battle of the Marne the year before last. Perhaps it would happen again this time. A glimmer of hope ignited in his heart.
That time, Paris taxis successfully transported soldiers to the battlefield, and this time, he hopes to solve the current dilemma through similar methods.
"Riccardo, I need you to go to Paris to requisition civilian vehicles and do whatever it takes to get enough vehicles to transport supplies to Verdun," Pétain said firmly, his voice full of determination and strength.
"The life and death of France now depends on you." Petain stood up from the bed and put his hand on Ricard's shoulder. His eyes were firm, as if he wanted to pass on his strength to the other party. His hand was strong and steady, giving Ricard endless confidence.
"Yes!" Ricardo felt the weight on his shoulders and understood the importance of the matter. He respectfully saluted Pétain and walked out with this heavy mission.
…………
Paris
Brave drove a truck full of vegetables to the market entrance. On the way to the market, he heard soldiers shouting. The streets were still crowded, but the tense atmosphere of war still permeated the entire city. Although people had smiles on their faces, the underlying uneasiness and tension could not be concealed.
"Citizens! We need enough vehicles to transport ammunition for the warriors stationed in Verdun! France is now at a critical juncture of life and death! We need every French citizen to fight for France!" The soldiers' voices echoed in the streets with a sense of urgency. Every word seemed to be beating in people's hearts.
"Damn it, you're doing this again. My uncle was driving a taxi to transport soldiers to the Marne River two years ago, and the taxi overturned and he almost died there, and you didn't give him a penny in compensation." Brave muttered when he heard the shouts of the soldiers outside the car, then turned the steering wheel to bypass the soldier and drove towards the market from another path. His brows were furrowed and his heart was full of dissatisfaction with the French government.
"Brev, you're a little late today." The owner of the vegetable stall in the market said to Brav when he saw him park his car.
The market was bustling with people, and the sounds of buying and selling were endless. Every stall was filled with fresh vegetables and fruits, and the air was filled with the aroma of various foods.
"It's because there are soldiers in the city requisitioning trucks. In order to avoid them, I changed several routes before getting here." Brav complained after getting out of the car.
"Well, it seems that the front line is really not that good that they have to run all the way to Paris to requisition vehicles." The vegetable stall owner sighed, and after sighing, he turned his head and asked Brave next to him.
"Brave, are you going?"
"Go to the front? I have to support my family. My son and daughter are almost old enough to go to school, and I have to work hard to earn their tuition. If the car breaks down on the front, my family will not be able to survive." Brave took a cigarette from his pocket and put it between his lips and said with some disdain.
But his heart was still filled with worries about the front line. A complex emotion flashed in his eyes, with both responsibility for his family and worries about the country.
"That's true. It's better not to leave. If they really requisition all the trucks, the price of vegetables in the city will at least double, and then no one will have a living." The vegetable stall owner continued, his voice revealing worry about the future.
At this time, another truck full of vegetables drove over.
"Kairil, you're late today too. What's going on? You also met the soldiers who were requisitioning trucks." The vegetable stall owner shouted to the truck driver. There was a hint of ridicule in his voice, but more of it was understanding and sympathy.
"Yes, Willard, today should be my last day to deliver goods for you. I will go to help Verdun transport supplies later." The driver responded, then jumped out of the car and started unloading the vegetables. His movements were quick and neat, and it was obvious that he had made up his mind.
"What? Kyril, didn't your wife just give birth to a big fat boy for you? Why don't you just make money and go to the front? Did those soldiers force you to go to the front?" Brave was a little shocked when he heard Kyril's words, and he didn't even notice that the cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were full of confusion and worry.
His mind flashed to Kyril's newborn baby, and he couldn't help but worry about his friend.
"No, they didn't force me to go to the front. I went there voluntarily. Brave, have you ever thought about what would happen if Verdun really fell and those Germans fought to Paris? I don't want my children to live under the rule of those Germans all their lives."
After saying this, Kyril sped up the unloading process, and after unloading all the vegetables from the truck, he couldn't wait to start the truck and leave. His eyes were full of determination.
Brav watched Kyler leave in silence. After unloading the vegetables from his car, he drove home. He missed his two lovely children.
On the way home, Brave saw many trucks heading to the conscription office. He silently looked at the trucks that passed by him and continued to rush home. His heart was full of contradictions, with a sense of responsibility for the country and concern for his family.
He drove back home, and as soon as he opened the door, a fragrance came towards him, and two small figures suddenly bumped into his arms.
"Hey, little ones, be gentle." Brave smiled and hugged the two petite figures into his arms. His eyes were full of tenderness and love.
"Dad, you're back!"
"Did you bring us something delicious?"
Two tender children's voices rang out one after another. Brave looked at the lovely children in his arms and couldn't help but kiss them both on the cheek. A warm feeling welled up in his heart, and he felt that all the hard work was worth it.
"Yes, of course." Brave took out the candy he had just bought at the market and handed it to the two children. The children's eyes lit up immediately and their smiles were as bright as the sun.
"Yeah! Daddy is the best!" The two children shouted excitedly and kissed Brav on the cheek, one on the left and one on the right.
"Okay, it's time to eat." At this time, Brave's wife came out of the kitchen with dishes and looked at Brave gently. "Eat the candy after dinner, eat first." Brave sat at the dining table with his two children, and his wife served the three of them. The table was filled with various home-cooked dishes. Although simple, it was full of a warm atmosphere.
Brave looked at his two lovely children at the dining table and his gentle wife beside him, and felt satisfied. He felt that the fatigue of running around outside every day was nothing at all. The warmth of the family made him temporarily forget the disputes and pressures outside.
Suddenly, what Kyril had said earlier came flooding back to him.
Yes, what if the Prussians come? Will all the beautiful things we have now disappear? Will his lovely children be slaves to others for the rest of their lives? Thinking of this, Brave's originally happy mood suddenly became depressed.
"What's wrong?" Brave's wife asked, noticing that something was wrong with Brave. Her voice was gentle and concerned, and her eyes were full of worry.
Brav raised his head and looked at the inquiring eyes of his wife and children. He took a deep breath and finally made up his mind.
"Parina, I may have to leave. I'm going to transport supplies for Verdun." Brave's voice was a little hoarse, but with a hint of determination. He knew that this departure would be a huge challenge, but he had to make a choice for the future.
Parina was slightly startled, then she understood her husband's decision. She walked to Brav and gently held his hand, tears in her eyes.
"I understand, Brav. We'll wait for you to come back." Her voice was soft but powerful, giving Brav endless courage.
"Dad, what are you going to do?" The two children heard Brav's words and looked at Brav with their innocent eyes.
"Father, I am going to save France."
………………
Brave held the steering wheel, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the truck and muddy road in front of him. This road was now only open to cars, and other marching soldiers and civilians could only walk on the ridges beside it.
He had been driving for almost fifty hours without a break, and was now exhausted and could fall asleep at any moment. Every sound of the wheels rolling over the mud reminded him of the difficulties ahead.
Suddenly, the truck in front of him got stuck in the mud and stalled. Fortunately, he reacted quickly and stepped on the brakes immediately to avoid a head-on collision.
"Damn it! Damn it! This damn broken road!" Brave pounded the steering wheel angrily. Veins popped out on his forehead, and his fingers were so hard that the knuckles turned white.
Yesterday, the road was covered with ice. The tires of old cars were solid and the tread was smooth without grooves. It was easy to slip on such icy roads. Many trucks carrying supplies to Verdun overturned. Every overturn meant the loss of supplies and the delay of time.
But today the temperature has risen, and the icy roads have all melted into mud. In some places, the mud is nearly half a meter deep, and many trucks have been stuck in it and can't get out. The wheels are spinning in the mud, making an irritating and harsh sound.
"Quick! Push him aside!" A group of French soldiers came to the stalled truck and pushed it to the sides of the road. The soldiers' faces were covered with mud and sweat, but their eyes were full of tenacity.
"Hurry! Stones!" Another large group of people of different skin colors came to the place where the truck had just gotten stuck, holding stones. They added the stones in their arms into the mud pit so that the vehicles behind could move again.
France recruited people from its colonies to work as coolies in France. In order to ensure that the road was unobstructed, Pétain mobilized a division's worth of manpower to maintain the highway.
It was this inconspicuous road that became the lifeline of France. In one week, it transported more than tons of supplies and 19 people to Verdun, solving the urgent need for Verdun. The roar of each truck was like a declaration of war on the enemy, announcing the tenacity and indomitable spirit of France.
At the peak of transportation in June, the French army used 6 vehicles, with a car driving on the road every seconds. It is estimated that the total mileage of cars driving on this short 14-mile road every week can circle the earth 50 times.
Every moment those drivers worked tirelessly on this lifeline, they contributed to France's victory.
Almost two-thirds of the French Army troops marched to the terrible meat grinder of Verdun via this road, and this road was later called the "Saint Road" by the famous French writer Maurice Barres. This road is not only a transportation line, but also a symbol of the indomitable spirit of the French people.
………………
Lu Mingfei walked towards Fort Douaumont with the captured French officer on his back, step by step. The defense of Douaumont village was handed over to the reinforcement regiment, and they now had to return to Fort Douaumont for rest.
But the snow on the ground had begun to melt and formed a quagmire, which greatly slowed down their pace. The muddy road made every leg lift extremely difficult, and the shoes seemed to be sucked by the ground and refused to let go.
"Second Lieutenant, let me carry you." Hill said as he looked at Lu Mingfei who was struggling to pull his legs out of the mud. His face was full of fatigue, but his eyes were shining with concern.
"No need, let's keep going." Lu Mingfei said. He was a mixed-blood, and his physical strength and power were much stronger than Hill and the others. If the ground wasn't covered with mud, it wouldn't have any impact on him carrying a person on his back, and he could even go faster than Hill and the others.
"Why don't you just kill me? I'm just a small company commander and don't have much information to tell you."
The officer lay on Lu Mingfei's back and spoke weakly in broken Prussian. He couldn't understand why Lu Mingfei and his men went to so much trouble to bring him back. His voice was full of confusion and puzzlement.
"Why, do I look like a murderer?" Lu Mingfei asked back.
The officer on Lu Mingfei's back stopped talking immediately. Even Hill and the others beside him fell silent when they heard this. It was obvious that Lu Mingfei's deadly shooting skills had left a deep impression on them.
"Haha, I don't like killing people or war. If possible, I don't want to kill anyone." Seeing that everyone around him was silent, Lu Mingfei laughed at himself twice. There was a hint of bitterness in his laughter.
"Then why did you join the war?" the officer continued.
"At first, I was timid and signed up for the army after being frightened by a bald man. Although I am ruthless now, I was still timid six months ago. At that time, I cried a lot when I confessed to the girl I liked in the cinema and was rejected." Lu Mingfei recalled his past self and said with some nostalgia. There was a hint of tenderness in his eyes, as if he had returned to the carefree past at that moment.
He began to envy his silly self, who did not have to worry about survival and only thought about playing games and pleasing the girl he liked. The war turned him from an ordinary person into a cold warrior, and every day of killing made him become more and more unfamiliar.
"After I went to the battlefield and killed people, I seemed to hear someone shouting in my ear every night, give me back my life. I had several chances to leave the battlefield, but I couldn't let go of the brothers around me, so I came back. If I could, I don't want to fight at all." Lu Mingfei rambled on and on about what he had never said to anyone. His voice was filled with deep fatigue and helplessness.
Hill and Paul stared blankly at Lu Mingfei's back as he kept moving forward. They found that they seemed to have never understood the man in front of them.
"Hey, what's your name?" Lu Mingfei asked the young officer on his back.
"Charles de Gaulle." Charles de Gaulle lay on Lu Mingfei's back and listened quietly to the man's true feelings.
"Charles de Gaulle, hahahaha, fate really likes to play tricks on people." Lu Mingfei was stunned for a moment when he heard the name, and then burst into laughter, laughing so hard that tears were about to flow down. There was a hint of madness and helplessness in his laughter, as if he was laughing at the weirdness and impermanence of fate.
"What's wrong? Is there any problem with this name?" Charles de Gaulle asked Lu Mingfei who suddenly seemed to be crazy.
"Nothing, it's just that the name sounds like the name of a big shot, you will definitely become a big shot in the future." Lu Mingfei wiped the tears from his eyes and said, with a hint of prophetic certainty in his voice.
"Mr. Lieutenant, how do you know this name is the name of a big shot? I've never heard of it before?" Hill asked doubtfully, his eyes full of curiosity and confusion.
“It just feels like your name, Hill, also sounds like the name of an important person. You will become a great person in the future. Unlike my name, it sounds like a nobody.” Lu Mingfei said with a smile.
"Me? Lieutenant, you are the one who will become a big shot. You are so powerful." Hill was flattered when he heard Lu Mingfei's words.
"Do you like war?" Lu Mingfei continued to ask.
De Gaulle and Hill shook their heads.
“Then I hope that after you two become big shots, there will be no more wars, and may the world be at peace.” There was a hint of prayer and expectation in Lu Mingfei’s voice.
I have written 6000 words today, which is considered a big update. Thank you very much to my friends who gave me rewards and voted for me!
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
(End of this chapter)
