Chapter 434: The Best Student
The First Lord of the Admiralty believed he was treading carefully. As General Winter had stated, a victory at Antwerp would benefit Britain too, and the First Lord certainly didn't want to ruin everything.
But he was convinced that revealing the "truth" to the Germans wouldn't spoil the outcome.
The fuel transports were already at sea, only a few nautical miles from Antwerp—just waiting for Charles to make a move. Even if the Germans discovered the truth and launched a counterattack, the fuel could still reach Antwerp in time, allowing Charles's armored units to respond and handle the crisis.
Thus, by using the Germans to put pressure on Charles, the First Lord believed he could force him into following Britain's "guidance."
Without further delay, he instructed MI6 agents to pass this "truth" to German intelligence.
…
On Wilhelmstraße in Berlin, Falkenhayn was still hard at work coordinating the German forces' breakout.
Urban combat wasn't ideal for tanks, but it was equally unfavorable for large troop movements. The German forces were forced to contest every building, especially taller structures.
Otherwise, the French could simply set up a machine gun in a high position—or even dismantle their 75mm guns, reassemble them on rooftops, and control entire streets from there.
The French were relentless, launching assault after assault on every building occupied by the Germans.
The struggle was brutal. One minute, a building was under German control; the next, the French had taken it back. In the most intense clashes, there were cases where one room belonged to the Germans while the adjacent room was held by the French.
Just then, Colonel Moritz, pale-faced, approached Falkenhayn and handed him a telegram. "General, we have intelligence suggesting that the French are genuinely low on fuel."
"What does that mean?" Falkenhayn asked, his eyes fixed on the map of Mons.
He was entirely focused on Mons—if he could clear the way there, the German forces would succeed in breaking out.
"It means we may have been deceived," Moritz replied. "This intelligence comes from an agent in Britain. He reports that our submarines have blockaded the shipping lanes to Antwerp. Only three ships carrying ammunition have entered the port, with no fuel transport able to get through."
Falkenhayn looked up, astonished. "That's entirely different from our prior assessment."
"Indeed," Moritz responded, his eyes hesitant.
"So, what is Charles's objective in doing this?" Falkenhayn asked. "Is he… trying to prevent us from breaking out through Thuin?"
"That's possible," Moritz replied, then added, "But it might not be."
"What do you mean by that?" Falkenhayn asked.
"I've instructed our people to investigate the agent who sent this information, General," Moritz said. "We should know more soon."
Falkenhayn nodded in acknowledgment.
Spies were in constant danger. Once discovered, they rarely escaped with their lives. Often, the only option was to switch sides to survive, becoming a double agent and feeding information—or misinformation—to their former employer.
(History note: The famed Mata Hari was an example of this; she became a double agent for French intelligence but was executed once her usefulness ran out.)
"I find the information suspicious," Moritz remarked. "These fuel transports are at sea, nearly impossible to detect. Even the British military would have few people who know about their whereabouts. How could our agent learn of this so quickly?"
Falkenhayn nodded in agreement. Britain was France's ally, and this victory would benefit Britain as well—there was no way they would let "the truth" slip so easily.
Unless… the "truth" was a lie, and this was part of Charles's elaborate ruse.
Falkenhayn never considered that, in this case, the British actually did intend to sabotage Charles.
As a result, Falkenhayn returned his attention to Mons on the map, thinking that if this situation was indeed a ruse, then their decision to break out from Mons was the right one after all.
About half an hour later, Moritz received a new telegram and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He hurried to Falkenhayn, speaking with a note of pride in his voice, "General, we've confirmed it. The intelligence agent was indeed bribed by the British."
Falkenhayn nodded.
He had always suspected as much. The British had a solid reputation for intelligence work, and it was unlikely they'd leak such critical information to the Germans.
With a note of admiration in his voice, Falkenhayn said, "If this was Charles's idea, then his methods are terrifying. He's tried every trick to lure us toward Thuin, creating a scheme so convincing that it leaves room for further manipulation, even after we thought we'd figured it out."
"Agreed," Moritz replied, feeling similarly impressed. "He's a truly respectable adversary. We nearly fell for it."
…
Meanwhile, the Belgian guerrillas continued gathering fuel at a steady pace.
Their efforts were focused on the southwestern region, where the Germans were effectively encircled and too preoccupied to disrupt the guerrillas.
In the German-controlled towns, small units were left to oversee the local police and maintain control. These German contingents varied in size, but they rarely exceeded a few dozen soldiers per town.
These small forces could control an area thousands of times their size because they had the might of the German army behind them. Any local uprising could bring immediate and brutal reprisal from nearby German forces.
But at this point, that "mighty" support was no longer present. The German main forces were in full retreat, and the handful of remaining soldiers could no longer maintain their control as they once had.
So, under the rallying cry of Albert I and the leadership of Colonel Eden, the fuel flowed smoothly from the German-controlled towns into Antwerp.
The Belgian people responded with enthusiasm. In some places, civilians even drove out the German guards and set up their own defenses.
As they gathered fuel, the guerrillas' ranks also swelled rapidly.
Tijani, however, was less concerned with this. He was anxious, pacing the office and repeatedly asking the radio operators:
"Have the Germans changed direction?"
"What's happening in Thuin?"
"Any sightings of enemy troops?"
…
"Relax, General," Charles advised him. "Things aren't as urgent as you think. Even if the Germans avoid the trap and try to escape through Thuin, I can always just agree to the British proposal."
But Tijani's reply surprised him.
"You think that's what I'm worried about?"
"No, Brigadier. I know that no one can defeat you."
"What concerns me is that this deception—this art of warfare—has given us a whole new definition. You can win a great victory simply by creating an illusion."
Charles rubbed his temples, shaking his head. Was this really the time to ponder "the art of war"?
Yet, on second thought, he realized that perhaps Tijani's enthusiasm made him the best kind of student after all.
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