Chapter 163: At the Pinnacle of the Field

Chapter 163: At the Pinnacle of the Field

When James heard the news of Charles' victory, he was in his office at the Schneider Armaments Factory. James had a peculiar habit: he enjoyed the constant sounds of machines whirring, and of metal clanging and colliding. To him, it represented strength, power, even authority—much like the cannons he produced. His office was spacious but plainly decorated. Aside from the essentials like a desk, chairs, a lamp, and a bookshelf, he had a small open meeting area with an oval table, on which stood a model of a 75mm cannon.

James preferred this simple style, believing it reminded him to keep pushing forward. For him, this was the foundation for his enterprise's long-term success.

At that moment, he was sitting at his desk, absentmindedly flipping through a few photos of Charles' Mark I tank. James couldn't understand how this ugly, awkward machine could pose a threat to the Saint-Chamond tank and become its most formidable and only true competitor. Could it actually succeed on the battlefield? Though he often dismissed it, deep down, a lingering unease remained. After all, this was Charles—a man who had already achieved things on the battlefield that others couldn't dream of.

His secretary, Pauline, entered with a telegram. Her blue eyes, behind her glasses, showed a hint of alarm as she carefully announced, "Mr. James, Charles… has won."

"What?" James looked up at her in shock, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. He could hardly believe it. "But it's been less than two hours since the battle began!"

"Yes," Pauline confirmed quickly. "One hour and forty-seven minutes, to be exact. The news has been confirmed—the Germans surrendered, and we've recaptured Lafoux."

James furrowed his brow, agitated, as he pulled a cigar from his case and lit it, considering the situation by the window. He ordered, "Call Eugène in here."

"Yes, sir," Pauline replied.

Eugène, the head of Schneider's design department, was the creator of the Saint-Chamond tank. Soon, he entered James's office, dressed in a work uniform, with oil-stained gloves on and a few smudges on his face.

James frowned. "Have you been tinkering with the machines alongside the workers again?"

"Sir," Eugène replied, "it's the only way I can create something better."

James shook his head, gesturing for Eugène to take a seat in the meeting room. He then tossed the photos of the Mark I tank onto the table in front of him. "Then let me tell you," James said, "your work still isn't good enough."

Eugène glanced at the photos, immediately understanding the issue. "No… Impossible," he murmured as he examined the images. "That tank defeated the Saint-Chamond?"

"Beyond a doubt," James replied sharply. "We lost, Eugène, and in a thoroughly decisive way. Charles won the battle in just one hour and forty-seven minutes—with that tank. Meanwhile, our tanks lost forty-three units without advancing an inch. Most didn't even make it past the main road."

Eugène thought for a moment, then looked up at James. "I need more details, sir—the whole operation. Can you provide them?"

James glanced at Pauline in the adjoining office, who quickly retrieved a file and handed it to Eugène. "Here's some information we obtained from reporters. Specific data is yet to be verified," she said.

"Thank you, Pauline," Eugène replied, barely glancing at her as he absorbed the documents.

James waited patiently for about ten minutes without interrupting, showing a rare glimpse of his respect for talent. He understood that giving someone time and autonomy often mattered more than a high salary. Though he'd once considered bringing Charles under his command, he knew that Charles wasn't the type to work beneath anyone else—his talents were forged for himself, and he was born to be a rival.

Finally, Eugène exhaled, setting the document aside. His gaze drifted off, as if deep in thought, processing what he had read.

"Well?" James asked. "Any ideas?"

"He's someone who can design and fight, sir," Eugène replied, a hint of awe in his tone. "He knows the battlefield, understands its demands, and then builds his tank to meet those demands. It's as if that tank was custom-made for his tactics. Charles is a genius in both fields."

James nodded, having sensed this as well. "So, our defeat came down to not knowing how to fight?"

"In a way, yes," Eugène acknowledged. "We know our equipment well in the workshop and on blueprints. But they're meant for the battlefield, and we've allowed our designs to become disconnected from reality."

He lifted a photo of the Mark I. "Charles' tank, on the other hand, is born from the battlefield itself. It strikes a perfect balance. It may lack a powerful cannon, but it makes up for that by maximizing its strengths."

"Can we beat him?" James asked. "Should we bring in some military experts? Or perhaps send you to the front lines to gain firsthand experience?"

Although James's last remark was intended as a joke, Eugène responded earnestly. "If that's what's needed, I'd be willing. How else could one create equipment truly fit for the battlefield without witnessing it firsthand?"

James let out a sigh. He'd forgotten that Eugène was the kind of person willing to go to any length for his designs, regardless of the cost.

"Maybe we don't need to go that far," Pauline interjected, stepping out of her office. "We could try a simpler approach."

"What approach?" James asked, intrigued.

Pauline strode forward in her high heels and pointed to a photo of the Mark I. "I'm not entirely sure, but if Charles's tank was designed specifically for the battlefield, perhaps it reveals the necessary principles and direction for a battlefield tank. We don't need to copy it, but we could follow its design logic."

She paused, then added while indicating the data in the file, "For instance, we should consider replacing the electric transmission engine. It adds five tons of weight compared to a conventional engine without offering significant benefits. And there's the armor thickness—the idea that thicker side armor is better might have been a mistake with the Saint-Chamond."

James and Eugène exchanged glances, seeing the agreement in each other's eyes. Pauline was right. The design principles were right there in plain view, but they'd missed them.

At that moment, James remembered Francis's nearly defunct tractor factory and the soon-to-launch Holt 120 model in Britain. The former could provide them with a technical foundation and skilled workers, and the latter would allow Schneider to advance further, surpassing Charles's Holt 75 in no time.

Money was no obstacle for James. What he needed was to stand at the pinnacle of the field—to defeat Charles.

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