I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 852: Silent Showdown

Haig didn’t go to greet Shire; he sat at the desk within the command office, pretending to review documents while waiting for Shire to report in.

He thought it was reasonable. After all, he was the expeditionary force commander, and Shire was the vice commander; wasn’t it proper for Shire to report in?

But after waiting for a long time, there was no sign of Shire; instead, he heard cheers coming from outside the command office.

Haig stopped writing and, perplexed, asked his staff: "What is Shire doing?"

"General," the staff replied, "Shire seems to be having a lively conversation with the colonial army soldiers."

Haig felt a momentary unease. The colonial army’s heart was already leaning toward Shire; if they became more familiar, it would become increasingly difficult to control them.

With this thought, Haig quickly put away his pen and stood up, then turned back, took his weapon belt from the hat rack, fastened it, and adjusted his general’s cap in front of the mirror.

He didn’t want to be outdone by Shire in terms of appearance and presence.

However, awkwardly, there were too many people around Shire, layers of crowds inside and out.

They were cheering, each trying to shake Shire’s hand and ask for an autograph, seemingly oblivious to Haig’s arrival.

Having no choice, the staff blew a whistle and shouted, "Attention!"

The crowd then stopped shouting and parted to make way for Haig.

At the other end of the corridor stood a young French general—Shire.

He quickly and skillfully signed autographs in notebooks, handed them to the soldiers, then affectionately tapped a soldier’s shoulder and encouraged him in broken English:

"Do your best; I look forward to fighting alongside you on the battlefield!" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"Believe me, we will win!"

"There’s nothing to worry about; some say I can predict the Germans’ every move, and they’re not wrong!"

...

The soldiers laughed lightly, their faces showing unexpected confidence and pride!

What kind of magic is this?

Haig frowned; in a short period, Shire had managed to bond with the colonial army soldiers, as if reunions with long-lost war comrades, boosting the morale of these troops who refused to follow orders.

He even brought nothing, neither advanced equipment nor supplies, nor reinforcements, just Shire alone.

Shire looked back at Haig across from him, smiling.

It’s respect, fool.

Long subjected to unequal treatment, what the colonial army needs isn’t equipment, supplies, or even reinforcements.

What they need is "equal treatment," they need to be "regarded as human."

And this is precisely what the arrogant English can’t provide. Shire is very willing to be the general who regards them as humans.

Shire didn’t move.

Haig didn’t move either.

Both seemed to await the other to step forward.

This was a silent competition, like a staring contest—whoever blinks first loses.

But Shire didn’t mind; he continued chatting and laughing with the soldiers beside him:

"Where are you from?"

"Nyasaland? I know; I like the white tobacco there."

"Could you bring some next time?"

The soldier replied excitedly, "Of course, General, happy to serve you!"

(The picture depicts white tobacco, which is strong, fills well, absorbs flavor well, and has a hefty smoke. Nyasaland, present-day Malawi, is a major producer of white tobacco.)

As for Haig, he and a few staff stood isolated, ignored, in a very awkward atmosphere.

Haig realized that the "competition" was lost; Shire could maintain this state all day, while he couldn’t stand "guard" here all day.

He cleared his throat and reluctantly stepped forward, extending his hand: "Nice to see you, Vice Admiral, long time no see."

"Long time no see, General." Shire responded with a smile, his demeanor as if welcoming another soldier for an autograph.

Haig stood tall, looking down on Shire with lowered eyelids, attempting to use his height advantage to "defeat" Shire.

"You see," Haig glanced around, "We’re resting here. Are you here to lead us back onto the battlefield?"

The words outwardly asked Shire, but were meant for the colonial army soldiers: The person you’re welcoming is trying to lead you into war. So, what’s so cheerful?

"No, General." Shire met Haig’s gaze: "I came to lead them to victory because they’ve been mired in defeat for too long!"

Soldiers erupted into cheers, with some even clapping.

Shire’s response was savvy; he effortlessly dispelled Haig’s attempt to trap him and simultaneously mocked Haig’s failure.

Haig’s face flushed red, but he was helpless against Shire, forced to grit his teeth and gesture him forward.

...

Walking into Haig’s command office, Shire went to the window and looked outside, sarcastically: "You seem very confident in my aviation squadron, General."

"What do you mean?" Haig asked with a dark face as he just sat down in the chair.

"A wooden cabin, surrounded by open space." Shire shook his head with a smile: "I wouldn’t dare live here."

Haig instantly understood Shire’s meaning.

He was mocking Haig’s lack of professionalism, saying Haig shouldn’t set the command office in such an obvious location.

"Don’t worry, Vice Admiral." Haig replied with disdain: "It’s very safe here; our ’Camel’ aircraft have set up an air defense network around."

Shire asked meaningfully: "Really?"

Haig was speechless. After the German triplane appeared and destroyed the British Longueville Airport, the ’Camel’ aircraft’s air defense network was far from secure.

Haig kept silent, not wishing to waste more time on this topic, but Shire wouldn’t let him go.

"General," Shire said, "It might have been safe here before, but now that I’m here, perhaps not so much, please forgive my cowardice."

Haig didn’t quite understand Shire’s words at first, puzzled why Shire would confess "cowardice" voluntarily.

But thinking it over, he realized the "deep meaning" in Shire’s words:

"It was safe here before," implying the British command, including Haig, didn’t qualify for German action.

"It might be different now that I’m here," clearly stating he is the Germans’ significant target.

Haig snorted coldly, placing the coffee cup on the table: "Vice Admiral, it seems you’ve come here to demonstrate power to me, not to assist command!"

Shire withdrew his gaze and turned to Haig, retorting: "Can you let me ’assist in command’?"

Haig remained silent for a moment, then chuckled lightly: "Why not? I’ll also invite representatives of the colonial army, let them listen to your battle plans."

The colonial army doesn’t have tanks; they mostly have rifles and artillery. I’m curious how you’ll fight this battle.

If you have to charge with lives like us, it instead proves I’m right, and you’re no different from us!