I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 88: Integrating Pilots

Major Fisher was the first to realize the problem. He cautiously looked at Shire, his eyes filled with uncertainty: "Sir, if the rockets are fixed on the vertical struts of the biplane, does that mean... only the biplanes can carry them?"

"Yes!" Shire nodded.

Only biplanes have vertical struts. Monoplanes, firstly, lack space, and secondly, they use a lot of linen for the skinning, making them easily burned through or ignited by tail flames and thus unable to carry rockets.

This was why he felt disappointed when he saw the "Pigeon Monoplane" in the hangar.

The pilots and Major Fisher instantly showed difficulty in their expressions; they had only two biplanes, and including Eric’s "Aphro," there were only three.

Fisher gradually understood why Shire insisted on having Eric join.

However, with three planes carrying rockets, is it realistic to destroy the balloons and bomb "Big Bertha" at the same time?

Someone soon backed off:

"Maybe destroying the balloons is a good choice; without the balloons to guide them, ’Big Bertha’ won’t be accurate!"

"Yes, there’s no crucial need to destroy ’Big Bertha’; we only need to destroy its ’eyes’!"

"Besides, Congreve Rockets are very inaccurate; it’s fine to hit large balloons with them, but hitting ’Big Bertha’ would be very difficult!" freewebnøvel.coɱ

...

These words were obviously self-deception. Balloons weren’t the "eyes" of ’Big Bertha’; they were merely auxiliary. Without balloons, the artillery could still aim using binoculars, estimating distances, and other methods.

Shire listened quietly, without speaking.

Eric couldn’t hold back anymore and sneered: "A bunch of cowards and weaklings!"

This seemed to sting the Belgian pilots; they glared angrily at Eric, one of them warning in his tone: "Watch your words, Frenchman! Remember, those you call cowards are the ones fighting alone against the powerful Germany!"

"Oh, is that so?" Eric retorted sarcastically: "That’s others, sir, but definitely not you! You just want to easily destroy the balloons and then wait for the King to award you medals, right?"

Eric then mocked with a feminine gesture and shrill voice: "Wow, we destroyed the balloons, stopped the Germans’ bombing, we’re so great, you should reward us..."

Before he finished talking, the pilots were about to rush at him, but others held them back.

Eric lifted his chin without backing down and continued mocking: "What? Did I touch a nerve? Admit it, clowns!"

Shire still stayed silent.

Though Eric’s stance wasn’t pleasing, he was right; these Belgian pilots indeed wanted to easily gain remarkable merits and then retire with success.

From their perspective, this was not wrong. Destroying the Germans’ balloons was already a significant achievement; why risk their lives for anything else?

If they perished while destroying "Big Bertha," they would get nothing, right?

So, the real warrior was Eric. He was one of those planning to attack, still piloting a biplane with rockets, which would receive "special attention" from the enemy.

Eric should have stood with these pilots; that way, he wouldn’t need to take great risks, and would more likely survive while still gaining honor.

But Eric didn’t choose that; he decided to fight till the end.

Watching the noisy crowd, Shire finally said calmly: "If ’Big Bertha’ is not destroyed before nightfall, Wavre Fortress might not last until tomorrow!"

"What?"

"Impossible!"

"Why?"

...

The crowd stopped arguing and shot puzzled glances at Shire in unison.

Major Fisher questioned Shire’s statement: "Sir, ’Big Bertha’ has never attacked at night..."

"That was before!" Shire replied, then gently asked back: "Previously, daytime visibility was much better than at night, but now?"

Major Fisher suddenly realized: "We used smoke; the Germans can’t see clearly even during the day!"

"Yes!" Shire concluded: "Since visibility is poor in the daytime, why not attack at night? Daytime and nighttime make no difference! Besides, the Germans originally had three ’Big Berthas,’ now only one is left, which means they have surplus shells!"

Major Fisher nodded thoughtfully.

Ammunition from three cannons piled on one remaining cannon; the ammo was certainly ample. Under these conditions, the Germans were likely to continue bombing at night.

hours could fire 24 shells; if one hit Wavre Fortress, Antwerp would be destroyed.

Eric chuckled: "I don’t want to be woken up by them at night!"

Then he looked around: "Oh, uh... anyone got some wine?"

No one responded; some even stared at him incredulously—at this moment, he’s still looking for wine?

"So, to sum up!" Major Fisher’s face darkened, and he glanced at his watch, worriedly saying: "We only have about three hours left!"

Shire coldly added: "And you are still arguing about whether to bomb ’Big Bertha’!"

One sentence made everyone bow their heads, the Belgian pilots with hidden agendas even more ashamed.

"Antwerp’s fate is in your hands, gentlemen!" Shire’s tone was light, but his words were heavy: "It depends on what you do—the lives of hundreds of thousands, Belgium’s destiny, including your families and friends!"

Everyone fell silent, except Eric, who was still searching around as if it was unrelated to him.

After a while, someone stepped up:

"We’re listening to you, sir!"

"What’s your order?"

"We’ll follow your lead!"

...

Shire turned his gaze to Eric, who was still fidgeting.

Feeling Shire’s stare, Eric sat up, spread his hands: "Why look at me? I’ve always been on your side!"

Shire smiled: "Uncle Eric, I want to know if you can coordinate with them?"

Eric glanced at the people beside him, a hint of disdain at the corner of his mouth: "Coordinate with these cowards? Forget it, I’d rather do it myself..."

"Sorry, sir!" A Belgian pilot apologized:

"You were right; we must bomb ’Big Bertha’!"

"Sir, you fight for Belgium; we should be grateful!"

"You’re brave; we hope to fight with you!"

...

"I don’t buy this!" Eric interrupted their "heartfelt confession": "You guys will get me killed!"

The pilots were stunned; this was a situation of not giving in either way!

One clever fellow secretly took out a jug of wine from his pocket and handed it over...

Eric took it, shook it, opened the lid, smelled it, and soon, with a look of ecstasy, surrendered: "Alright, alright, it’s just bombing some stuff... let’s do it together!"

The pilots smiled knowingly.

Shire was satisfied with everything.

Integrating the pilots into a unified force was a critical step for the plan to unfold successfully.

His plan required close coordination among all pilots, even willing to sacrifice themselves to protect others. Without recognizing the seriousness of the problem, or lacking unity and self-sacrifice spirit, it was impossible to achieve!