A Half-Baked Napoleon (1)

The French army charged again and again, desperately trying to break through the enemy lines. Sacrifice a hundred thousand men to gain a hundred meters, then sacrifice another hundred thousand for another hundred meters... That was the grim reality of the Great War. Of course, sacrificing a hundred thousand men only to achieve nothing but meaningless slaughter was also the reality of trench warfare. The only reason France was managing to push the front line back even by inches was thanks to the future technologies brought by Shtal: airplanes, poison gas, and tanks. But what good did that do?

"The French are bringing up those armored tractors again!"

"So what? Just dig the trenches in a V-shape. Their engines are too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weak to climb out of them."

"French fighter planes incoming!"

"Then it's time for our Hungarian-made planes to take off. Shoot every last one of them down!"

The German army, the elite of the elite, also knew a thing or two about armored tractors. Weren't they currently maneuvering them to devastating effect on the Eastern Front, crushing the Russian Black Army? Digging deep trenches, placing moats in front of them... Starting with these methods, even simple obstacles like barbed wire or barricades were more than enough to counter the tanks. And if the situation was too urgent to employ such defenses? They could simply retreat and obliterate the area with concentrated artillery fire. This was the only reason the French army had managed to push the German trenches back even by a hundred meters at a time. Of course, from the French perspective, it was absolute hell.

"This time it's a hundred thousand casualties. Last time was a hundred and fifty thousand, and the time before that was seventy thousand... What on earth are we doing?"

"But the French army has achieved victory against the invincible Germans once again! The Commander-in-Chief..."

"We sacrificed nearly a million French youths to advance a single kilometer! One kilometer! How am I supposed to explain this to the French people?"

Just then, urgent news arrived from Austria-Hungary. That bastard Shtal had actually managed to crush Serbia in less than three months. With that, President Raymond Poincaré's patience finally snapped.

"Mr. President, it is not quite like that..."

"If not that, then what! While Shtal led a ragtag militia and the Greek army to steamroll Belgrade, all we did was advance a single kilometer?"

"I... I am sorry, sir."

"At this rate, the Germans will capture St. Petersburg any day now. When that happens, both you and I will end up on the guillotine!"

Although Shtal was currently busy roasting Führer Apis like a rotisserie chicken and hadn't joined the Eastern Front yet, the writing was on the wall. Shtal, Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky—who had departed for Poland—and Ludendorff. Once these legendary figures, capable of shaking the very foundations of Europe, turned their full attention to the East, the Russian Black Army would be finished.

Public opinion within France was already completely shattered. The conservatives cursed the French military for being utterly helpless against the Germans. The leftists screamed in outrage over the staggering casualties. President Raymond Poincaré and the French cabinet were at their absolute wits' end.

And finally, the moment intelligence arrived that Shtal had wrapped up his internal cleanup and was heading toward Poland alongside the German army.

"Commander Joseph Joffre. I can no longer place my trust in you."

"Mr. President!"

"No, do not plead with me. Do we not have a Prime Minister? The authority over the Commander-in-Chief's appointment lies with the cabinet, so go speak to them."

"...This is all because of you, the idiotic military high command, and the cabinet."

"What did you say?"

"I told you clearly when I was drafting the mobilization plans! We must not enter through Alsace-Lorraine! We had to cross through Belgium!"

Plan 17, the grand strategy of the French army drafted by Joseph Joffre. In truth, this plan was an incomplete strategy, much like the Schlieffen Plan. When Joffre first conceived it, he had envisioned a grand flanking maneuver through Belgium. The only reason he had written a direct assault on the heavily fortified Alsace-Lorraine into the official draft was to make a statement—a declaration that any offensive without Belgium was doomed to fail.

President Poincaré let out a hollow chuckle at Joffre's words.

"Is that so? Yet I recall you were the one foaming at the mouth, insisting we must cross Alsace-Lorraine."

"Back then... the situation was different! Who could have known that Shtal, Trotsky, Ludendorff, and even Rommel—commanders so brilliant you couldn't find their equal in all of Europe—would all be gathered there!"

Having clashed with the German forces several times, it was painfully clear now. Joseph Joffre had been utterly, unfairly screwed over by fate. Who could have predicted that four military geniuses on par with Napoleon would be concentrated in Alsace-Lorraine? Four of them! Joffre had only recently realized that Auguste Dubail, the commander of the First Army at the time, was actually an exceptionally brilliant general. Against those four monsters, hadn't Auguste Dubail somehow managed to push through Alsace-Lorraine anyway? His recapture of Alsace-Lorraine was the sole glorious achievement of the French army. Of course, Alsace-Lorraine was now a desolate wasteland of ash without a single soul left alive, but at least the mines remained, didn't they?

"Yes, yes. Go ahead and explain it to the public like that. Because I certainly cannot."

But no matter what Joffre said, his words rang hollow. What excuses could ever be permitted on the battlefield? They had been utterly thrashed, and they were still being thrashed. Finally, Joseph Joffre swallowed hard.

"Mr. President."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Which is the greater disaster: Germany capturing St. Petersburg and Moscow, or France turning Great Britain into an enemy?"

"Are you seriously asking that—"

"Choose!"

As Joseph Joffre bellowed, Raymond Poincaré began to ponder seriously. Actually, there was barely anything to ponder. France had faced major diplomatic isolation twice in its history. The first was during the reign of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte—an era that could be called the peak of French glory. The second was during the reign of Napoleon III, a shameful era when Bismarck and the idiotic Napoleon III collaborated perfectly to throw the gates of Paris wide open. The first isolation was pure; the second was somewhat more manageable. What about a third? He found himself longing for that first glorious moment.

"...Obviously, Germany capturing St. Petersburg would be the greater disaster."

"Then invading Belgium is our only option."

"B-but... surely that is going too far..."

"We already shook hands with that lunatic Apis! What is stopping us now? Unless, of course, you would rather hand the cabinet over to Georges Clemenceau."

To be frank, the Avant-garde Party had not been a major threat until now. Sure, Lenin had established liberated zones to gather support from the peasantry, and Freud had charmed the young intellectuals, but that was the extent of it. While they were the largest single political force, they fell short of a majority, and they possessed no armed forces of their own. Their ideology was similarly vague—resembling some form of anarchism. How could romantic, starry-eyed anarchists ever seize power? But when Georges Clemenceau joined the Avant-garde Stahlism movement, the narrative shifted entirely.

Georges Clemenceau had successfully reformed Avant-garde Stahlism, which had previously been nothing but utter chaos. The messy barricades and liberated zone theories? Replaced with "grassroots democracy" and "decentralization." The anti-cultural, anti-authoritarian movements represented by the "Cultural Revolution"? Transformed into the broad expansion of freedom of the press and freedom of expression. Lenin's signature militarism and armed struggle ideology? Adapted into the right to popular resistance and the freedom to bear arms. The anti-conscription movement? Rationalized through the logic that any infringement on basic rights must strictly go through legal statutes and due process. He had successfully refined Avant-garde Stahlism, which had once seemed like mere radicalism, into a genuinely viable political ideology!

"Do you understand now, my journalist friend? In the end, Avant-garde Stahlism is an advocacy for expanding direct democracy to escape the evils of representative democracy. It contains true equality and fraternity, but it was merely distorted because its author, Freud, is a lunatic excessively obsessed with the male phallus, much like Führer Apis. From now on, please think of it as Clemenceau Stahlism."

"What on earth is that old geezer Georges Clemenceau spouting to the press?!"

Just how many variations of Stahlism were there in France?! In any case, France's grand coalition cabinet of Marxists, nationalists, and conservatives now perceived the Avant-garde Party as a "substantial" threat. Even to their own ears, Clemenceau's explanations were remarkably persuasive.

"...Mr. President. Why do you ponder so long? Make your choice. An invasion of Belgium, or President Georges Clemenceau? Which option sounds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more appealing to you?"

"I... I will discuss this with the cabinet."

"You do not have much time to hesitate. I hear Führer Apis has been roasted to a crisp. It will not take long for Shtal to reach Poland. And isn't Trotsky hiding within the Polish underground network as we speak?"

Raymond Poincaré fell into deep thought as he hurried toward the cabinet meeting. Invading Belgium and turning Great Britain into an enemy? It was madness. If things went awry, the nightmare of the Napoleonic Wars would play out all over again. Although it was difficult for a proud Frenchman to accept, Poincaré could not deny Britain's absolute supremacy. Wilhelm II, that lunatic Kaiser, had suddenly lost his mind at the turn of the 20th century and began building up his navy like a madman. And where did that leave the French Navy? Pushed down to third place behind the German Empire. A mere third! Even if dealing with the hastily expanded German Navy was a simple task... in terms of sheer scale, France could not match Germany, let alone Great Britain.

France was currently importing vast amounts of resources from its colonies. Those colonies were the pride of France. But if they turned Britain into an enemy? France would be trapped on the continent, beaten senseless until they could barely breathe, losing not only their colonies but even the bread on their tables tomorrow. Provoking Britain was indeed madness.

But...

There is only one way to solve this. To act like Napoleon.

Whenever French conservative politicians found themselves cornered, they sold out Napoleon. This was a time-honored tradition in French politics. Within Raymond Poincaré's heart, dreams of Napoleon began to slowly take root.

Napoleon. Napoleon! Yes, there is no need to overthink this. From the very beginning, there was only ever one choice.

If the front lines remained stagnant like this and they eventually lost ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠power, the war would end right then and there. It would be an outright defeat. The government and the cabinet could not afford to sit idly by. They had to do something—anything. Since things had already come to this, they might as well look on the bright side. Why not win big, just like Napoleon did? If he became Napoleon, those trivial colonies wouldn't even matter. At some point, colonies had become nothing but money pits with exorbitant maintenance costs, utterly useless. What truly mattered was the mainland and its industry. And if they seized all the massive factories and markets of Europe for themselves? They wouldn't even have to worry about naval blockades like during the Napoleonic Wars. This was an era where occupying Europe solved everything.

And then there was their greatest rival in Europe, the German Empire. If they went through Belgium, the path to Berlin would be as fast and smooth as a highway. It was the only way France could defeat Germany.

Yes, I am Napoleon! Me!

An utterly absurd man was claiming to be Napoleon. Seeing how any random fool could call themselves Napoleon, Europe was indeed a remarkably free continent. And so, without a formal declaration of war, France crossed into Belgium.

"Ah, this cool, heavy sensation... It has been a long time."

"...What on earth are you talking about, General Dubail?"

Auguste Dubail, a man who had fought against three Napoleons—Ludendorff, Shtal, and Trotsky—plus a mini-Napoleon in Rommel! In the end, his reputation was bound to be re-evaluated, and Dubail returned to the front lines as a specialist in urban warfare. Not only that, but France had staked its very survival on this war. Consequently, two legendary veterans of the Republic, Philippe Pétain and Ferdinand Foch, joined the fray. If they failed to take Berlin, France was doomed! Since they were going to ruin anyway, they might as well bet everything they had, down to their very shirts.

"Drawing upon your experience in Alsace-Lorraine, please capture Brussels, General Dubail."

"...Commander Joffre. What on earth are you saying?"

"Pardon?"

"Belgium is a hell far worse than Alsace-Lorraine. Our objective in this war is not Brussels, but Berlin."

"Then...?"

"We shall break through the Ardennes Forest and march straight to Berlin! Mwahahaha! Long live the French offensive spirit! All forces, charge!"