Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Is Paris Burning? (1)
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French Army.
"Got a smoke?"
"What, did you burn through your rations already?"
"Fuck. What am I supposed to do with these rat-tail rations?"
In the hellish tension and fear, the soldiers lit up cigarettes to find even the smallest comfort.
The night on the Western Front was agonizing in a different way from the day.
For reasons unknown, the enemy—who had adapted and evolved to trench warfare with terrifying speed—sent small raiding parties for nighttime assaults (trench raids).
They sniped at our troops repairing barbed wire, those exposing gaps...
...or simply those who were unlucky.
Whether soldiers dying or officers failing in assaults,
they all shared the same stress, differing only in degree.
"Hoo..."
Lieutenant Charles de Gaulle was one such officer.
Feeling lost about the future, he looked up at the sky.
"Huh?"
Suddenly, the brilliantly shining moon and stars began to be obscured by massive clouds.
But the edges of the obscuration were too clean, so de Gaulle stared intently at the sky.
It seemed like artificial clouds, but they were too high up to discern their exact shape.
Thus, the clouds—no, the 'clouds'—slowly passed over the moon and drifted westward.
"...What is that?"
"Did you see something in the sky, sir?"
De Gaulle hesitated before shaking his head at the officer.
"No, must've been a mistake. Guess I'm too on edge lately."
"Who isn't around here? Get some good sleep, and you'll feel better."
"Yeah... you're right."
De Gaulle nodded at the officer's words and returned to his room, leaving behind an odd sense of unease.
Several others had spotted the strange clouds besides de Gaulle.
But that unease never made it up the chain of command.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
France, Paris.
The City of Light (La Ville Lumière).
True to its nickname, Paris shone brilliantly even in the dead of night.
Not just from streetlights and buildings, but from Enlightenment ideals and modern philosophy.
As the center of the glorious revolution and history, Paris more than deserved its title.
Thus, the praise and affection French citizens had for their capital were incomparable to other nations.
Exaggerating slightly, Paris was France itself—the capital's influence was immense.
Soon, a dark shadow fell over that Paris.
"LZ 38, arriving at operational area."
At dawn, airships exchanged Morse code rapidly via advanced communications, took positions, and advanced in formation like a parade.
As the sky lightened, some citizens spotted the airships.
"Whoa! Must be ours."
"There's a ton of them!"
"Awesome! Burn those damn Jerries!!"
Ordinary citizens lacked the knowledge to distinguish German from French airships.
Absurdly, they mistook the approaching airships for friendlies, cheering and waving their arms.
As the commotion grew, high-ranking officials from police, military, and parliament stepped out and looked up.
'A massive airship squadron launch? No such schedule today.'
The airships from northeast Paris smoothly turned, passing over the Arc de Triomphe.
Faint doubts, confusion, and anxiety swelled.
The military roughly grasped the situation but could only frantically contact places and move—unable to respond effectively.
Progress came only when Paris garrison commander Joseph Gallieni arrived at headquarters amid the crowds.
"Shoot them down immediately!! What the hell have you been doing until they reach the city center?!!"
"B-but we have no countermeasures!! And with so many civilians on the streets, any panic would..."
"Damn it!!!"
At this time, Paris lacked not just anti-air systems but even proper sirens.
In this situation—late as it was—Gallieni had no choice but to warn of enemy airships. He made a swift decision.
"Request police cooperation to evacuate civilians to subway stations!! Mobilize our cavalry if needed!!"
"It'll cause massive chaos!!"
"Chaos!!!"
BAM!! Frustrated, Gallieni slammed the desk, silencing the staff's clamor.
"Real chaos starts when those airships drop bombs!!! You idiots!!!!"
The staff's pupils shook at his bloodcurdling shout.
Already, crowds filled the Champs-Élysées and various Paris squares to see the airship procession.
The cheers echoed everywhere—not missing parliament, police stations, or garrison HQ...
"..."
"..."
With eyes wide open, nightmarish visions too horrific to imagine silenced both commander and staff.
They were nightmares soon to become reality.
"...Anyway, shoot with whatever guns we have—even muskets from museums! I'll request support from Commander Joffre!!
"Understood..."
"Ring the church bells!! We must warn the civilians!!"
Gallieni shouted belatedly, but the brief silence had already sapped the staff's morale further.
As the commander quickly turned to hide his trembling eyes...
KUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN————
"..."
"..."
A deep, low explosion reverberated, and the ground trembled faintly.
Cheers faded, replaced by faint screams.
"N-no... it can't be. No."
Gallieni, grasping the situation fastest, muttered frantically and rushed to the window.
"No."
A plume of smoke rose in the distance.
The commander clutched his face, groaning at the approaching disaster.
"My God."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
One bomb dropped, halting the cheers—Paris filled with anxious murmurs.
"What, a mistake?"
"How do you mistake and drop a bomb on the city? Court-martial that guy."
"...Now that I look, they don't look like ours."
"Wait, that marking on the hull—is that the Iron Cro—"
"Whoa?!! Run!!! Bombs incoming!!!"
"KyaAAAAAAAH!!!!!!"
KWAAAAAANG!!!
Only after the second bomb did Paris citizens realize.
The airships dominating the sky bore small but clear Iron Crosses on their undersides.
The citizens.
Paris was under attack.
Ding—!! Ding—!! Whiiiiistle—!! Finally, nearby police blew whistles, and all Paris churches rang their bells.
"Evacuate to subway stations!!"
"Air raid!! Air raid!! Germans are bombing—evacuate immediately!!"
"Aaaah! Don't push!!"
Citizens packing the Champs-Élysées screamed in panic.
The airship procession stretched from Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe—who knew when bombs might fall overhead.
This road, originally the Triumphal Way (Voie Triomphale), made the airships' passage over the Arc profoundly symbolic.
Utterly humiliating, but no time to dwell.
Panicked citizens rushed into nearby buildings.
"Please!! Open the door!!!"
"The Jerries are trying to kill us!!! Run!!!"
"Eeeeek!! Another bomb!!!"
But some, terrified by the outdoor panic, had locked doors tight; remaining buildings couldn't hold everyone.
Still, citizens shoved each other to get inside. Bottlenecks concentrated at both ends of Champs-Élysées.
Limited space, too many competitors—like a survival game on the avenue.
KWAAAAAAAANG!!!! Finally, disaster struck. Near the Arc, where crowds were densest, a 500kg bomb detonated.
"Uwaaaaaah!!!"
"KyaAAAAK!!!"
Considering the airships' crude accuracy, pure coincidence.
But with blood and flesh spraying amid the blast, no one stayed calm.
"Pl-please let me in!!"
"Cough! Hack, calm do— to the station...!"
"Side building's open!! This way!!"
"Mooom..."
Panic and chaos intensified; people crushed, trapped, suffocating.
Tragedies unfolded where even screams lacked breath.
That day, 105 died on Champs-Élysées, with more injured.
Panic and crush deaths from the raid far outweighed direct bomb damage.
"Ahh..."
KUGUGUGUGUGUGUNG——!!!!!
"Mon Dieu... (My God...)"
But the nightmare wasn't over.
KREEEEEEEK!! A massive metal mass screamed like a banshee.
The Eiffel Tower tilted.