I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 37 Almost Caused a Mutiny

Major Brownie was a bit frustrated these days. He and his Third Battalion had been stuck on the north bank of the Marne River, unable to move since defeating the German Army.

Out of twelve tanks, five were destroyed in battle, most of them by their own artillery fire. But that was not important; the important thing was they had won.

Of the remaining seven tanks, six were malfunctioning, and only one could move, though it was uncertain how long it would last.

When Major General Garde pursued the German Army, he left an order for Major Brownie: "Fix them and follow up as quickly as possible!"

Major Brownie couldn’t help but curse in his heart: This idiot!

We are soldiers, not engineers. You want us to fix them?

Besides, this thing’s top speed is only 15 kilometers per hour, top speed!

If it travels at top speed, it might break down every half hour. Typically, it can only advance at around 8 kilometers per hour and needs maintenance every hour.

Bear in mind, the average walking speed for a person is 3 to 6 kilometers per hour. You expect us to catch up with this thing?

But Major Brownie could only respond with "Yes" and strive to complete this order.

The reality was even worse than Major Brownie imagined. Brownie made several trips to the tractor factory, hoping for repair assistance, but all replies were the same:

"Major, I think you should wait for new tanks. We are producing at full capacity!"

"Those tanks are probably beyond repair. They are full of shell holes, and their engines are damaged or destroyed. Fixing them might be more difficult than building new ones!"

...

Major Brownie admitted they had a point, but when would the new tanks be ready?

The answer was:

"We are waiting for government funding. Once the funds arrive, production will start immediately!"

Major Brownie immediately realized it would be a while. Government funding involved a complex bureaucratic process, even during wartime, so getting tanks immediately was impossible.

Sure enough, after three days, there was still no sign of progress.

Meanwhile, Major General Garde kept sending courier soldiers back to urge them:

"Where are our tanks? Haven’t they been fixed yet? They are just tractors, after all!"

"Where are you positioned? Bring your tanks and catch up!"

"God, with tanks, we could easily break through the defensive line. Instead, we have lost thousands of men!"

...

These complaints were not exaggerated.

The German Army’s military skills were superb. Even though they had lost the war, they quickly reorganized and retreated in an orderly manner, covering each other effectively.

In contrast, the pursuing French Army resembled a group of children chasing kites. They rushed to pursue the enemy but repeatedly fell into traps set by the German Army, suffering heavy casualties.

However, what could Major Brownie do?

He couldn’t just conjure up tanks and carry them to the front lines.

"If only Matthew were here!" someone said. "That guy is not only an excellent tank driver but also a skilled repairer!"

"I wonder how Matthew is doing?"

"He got amputated, lost his right leg. I went to see him yesterday! He’s being well taken care of and recovering nicely!" Yves replied.

Matthew was his comrade in the tank crew, and Yves had taken some time to visit the field hospital.

"This is quite a story!" Major Brownie was surprised by Yves’ words. "As far as I know, the field hospital is not a place known for good care!"

Being a French officer, Major Brownie was well aware of the field hospital’s conditions. Few people carried into that place would come out alive, even if they were lightly injured.

"Our field hospital is different, Major!" Yves leaned against a rock, resting with his machine gun in hand. He spoke lazily: "Our field hospital has Young Master Shire!"

"What do you mean?" Major Brownie looked at Yves in confusion, and the others turned their puzzled gazes toward Yves as well.

"You haven’t heard?" Yves opened his eyes in surprise, glancing around. "Young Master Shire used his own money to supply the field hospital with materials and personnel. This made our Fifth Field Hospital undoubtedly the best-equipped and highest-survival-rate field hospital. This has spread throughout the army; I thought you knew..."

Major Brownie and the soldiers were all stunned. After a while, some nodded in gratitude, while others crossed themselves:

"A noble man, he’s a true hero!"

"May God bless him. If all French capitalists were like him, this country would be saved!"

"Hearing this reassures me. At least I know that if I get injured, I will be well cared for, not left aside to die!"

...

For a soldier, the most pitiful fate is not dying at the hands of the enemy on the battlefield but being abandoned in a field hospital by their own people, watching their life slip away in despair, powerless to do anything.

Major Brownie grumbled: "If he cares so much, he should get us tanks as soon as possible! This would reduce casualties!"

"Major!" Yves’ voice carried anger: "Haven’t you heard that Francis stripped Young Master Shire of his management rights over the tractor factory?"

"What?" Major Brownie jumped up in shock: "They never told me this..."

"Of course, they wouldn’t!" Yves explained: "They found that converting tractors into tanks was profitable, so they certainly didn’t want to give up this golden opportunity. Young Master Shire was pushed aside and given a useless motorcycle factory in exchange. This was not what Young Master Shire wanted!"

The soldiers were instantly indignant:

"These capitalists are a disgrace to France, money-hungry beasts!"

"And we are fighting and dying for these beasts!"

"How can they treat Young Master Shire this way!"

...

A few soldiers even stood up with their rifles, ready to go.

Brownie hurriedly stopped them: "Where are you going?"

"We are going to kill those guys and help Young Master Shire get the tractor factory back. It rightfully belongs to Young Master Shire!"

The soldiers responded enthusiastically:

"I’m in!"

"Count me in!"

...

"No, no! Listen to me!" Major Brownie tried hard to calm them down: "We don’t know everything. Let me talk to Shire first, maybe things aren’t as we think!"

The soldiers thought it made sense and said one after another:

"Okay, Major! Send our regards to Young Master Shire!"

"If anyone bullies him, let him tell us; we won’t let those guys off!"

"Yes, we’re not to be trifled with!"

...

Major Brownie was secretly alarmed: My God, Shire, just a few rumors about you nearly sparked a mutiny!