Chapter 429: King Albert I
Antwerp Airport looked desolate in the setting sun.
The hangars had been bombed, the tower half-burned, leaving a charred husk of walls that looked ready to collapse at any moment. Around the airstrip lay scattered wreckage from downed aircraft and a few charred bodies.
Under German control, the airport had been used to train pilots, and a squadron of German planes had been stationed here. Most of the squadron had escaped before Charles's forces broke in, sabotaging everything they couldn't take by destroying damaged aircraft and setting fires.
After the French took over, they stationed a single infantry squad to hold the airport.
Now, Charles stood with the guards company, clearing the runway and gazing around the airport, feeling a sense of regret over what he saw as wasted potential.
From World War II onward, airports would become critical assets in any battle. Once an airport was secured, transports could immediately begin flying in fuel, supplies, and reinforcements, and fighters could launch from there, securing air superiority for hundreds of kilometers and providing cover for ground forces.
With a functioning airport, an army could control the theater of war within a radius of several hundred kilometers.
But in this period, there was nothing he could do. All he could do was look at the wreckage and think of the missed opportunities. After a moment's thought, Charles understood the real issue: the lack of dedicated transport aircraft, which was foundational to this kind of rapid deployment strategy.
Without them, he'd have to wait for ground routes to clear up before bringing in fuel, parts, and other supplies.
Just as Charles sighed with frustration, Tijani, who had been looking up at the sky, pointed and called out, "They're here."
Following Tijani's gaze, Charles saw three planes approaching against the fiery backdrop of sunset: a twin-seat Avro flanked by two Sopwith Camels.
It was King Albert I.
Upon learning that Charles's forces had reached Antwerp, the king had insisted on traveling to the frontlines to stand alongside Charles.
"You won't be able to help much, Your Majesty," Charles had responded via telegram. "Everything that can be done is already in motion."
Charles had barely refrained from bluntly telling him not to get in the way.
In the early days of the war, King Albert's position had been crucial; both Germany and France had courted him, hoping to bring Belgium into their alliances.
But now, with the war in full swing and Belgium nearly lost, Albert's value as a political asset had dwindled. Such was the nature of international politics: brutal and driven purely by interest.
Yet King Albert I had remained steadfast:
"This is my country, Brigadier General. I must stand with my people to witness Belgium's victory!"
"Moreover, I can help stabilize the frontlines. I am confident I can make a difference."
With some reluctance, Charles agreed.
In reality, Albert didn't need to organize anything. The Belgians were already doing it themselves through groups like the "White Lady" resistance and local guerrilla forces. Still, having a symbolic leader wasn't a bad idea.
Albert had to take a roundabout route to get here, flying first to Dunkirk and then continuing to Antwerp under French escort. He didn't trust the British to ensure his safety.
Even Britain's latest planes, such as the Avro, were no match for Germany's Fokker E1; any encounter would leave him a sitting duck.
(Note: Although the British had purchased Sopwith Camels from Charles, under their agreement, training was still underway in Paris.)
The Avro lowered its altitude, and with a rumble of the engines, the plane landed smoothly on the runway.
The two Camels circled twice in the sky before the pilots waved down at Charles and headed back along their original route. Had they landed, they likely wouldn't have had enough fuel to return.
King Albert I jumped down from the Avro's rear seat, pulling off his goggles and striding quickly toward Charles and the waiting party. From afar, he called out excitedly, "Charles, my dear friend! I knew you would succeed!"
Albert I embraced Charles with exuberance, laughing heartily.
"This is a glorious day," he said. "The whole world has its eyes on you. You've taken a decisive step forward!"
It was typical European etiquette, though Charles was still somewhat unaccustomed to it.
Once they were seated in a car, Charles reminded him, "This place isn't safe, Your Majesty. Although the Germans surrendered, there are still plenty of enemy stragglers around."
But Albert's mind was elsewhere. Gazing nostalgically at the buildings along the street, he rambled on:
"This is where we first met, back when you were just a lieutenant."
"In less than a year, you're now a brigadier general. I'm so proud of you, Brigadier General."
"Only you could have pulled this off—in just one day! Everyone is astonished; they're all talking about your unbelievable victory."
"I don't know how to thank you, my friend."
"I thought I'd never come back here in my lifetime, but now I am! I'm in Antwerp!"
"It feels surreal, like I'm dreaming!"
…
"Stop," Charles interrupted, unable to hold back. "Did you hear me? This place is dangerous!"
"I know, Brigadier General," Albert replied with a calm smile. "If you managed to reclaim it, and yet I stayed away because of fear, how would my people look at me?"
Charles nodded, understanding.
During Belgium's occupation, Albert had continuously worked to restore his country, even if his efforts hadn't yielded significant results.
This was also an opportunity for him to solidify his image as king, gaining the people's support.
Charles suspected that Albert had thought this through, and it was perfectly reasonable.
"So, what do you plan to do?" Charles asked.
"It's simple," Albert replied. "Give me some guns, and I'll organize a militia. Antwerp, Brussels, and other areas—leave the task of clearing out remaining enemy forces to us. If you need assistance, we'll fight alongside the French. We may not be professional soldiers, but we'll fight with all we have."
Albert looked at Charles with a hopeful expression.
Charles was a bit surprised; he hadn't expected this.
The French military was indeed facing a manpower shortage, particularly with infantry.
The 9th Corps hadn't kept pace, and fuel shortages had forced the armored and mechanized divisions to operate more like standard infantry.
So why not mobilize the Belgians?
During the advance, the French had captured plenty of German rifles and ammunition, which could be distributed to the Belgians.
"What do you think?" Albert asked, visibly anxious.
He understood perfectly well that the decision rested with Charles.
Charles nodded. "It's a good idea. However, regarding command…"
"We'll follow your orders unconditionally," Albert quickly interjected.
After all, who else could lead them to victory? Who else could save Belgium?
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