I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 62: New Recruits Reporting for Duty

Early the next morning, just as the sky began to lighten, Lauren was already waiting in a car outside Shire’s building, ordered to take Shire to report in.

This was an unprecedented high-standard treatment. A major was sent to pick up a new recruit, following the direct orders of General Gallieni, the city defense commander.

Gallieni had his own explanation for this: "Lauren has always been responsible for the confidentiality work at the motorcycle factory. I can’t allow these capitalists the slightest chance of leaking industrial secrets, so Lauren will be following him everywhere from now on!"

Of course, the real intention was to prevent any defense loopholes from being exploited by traditional aristocrats.

Dejoka helped Shire load his luggage into the car, and Camille looked at Shire with longing eyes, as if Shire was heading across the La Manche Strait to Britain instead of just a dozen kilometers away to Paris.

(Note: The French refer to the English Channel as the La Manche Strait, thanks to Armand Capet for the reminder.)

"Don’t worry, Mom!" Shire comforted, "I can come back anytime. I heard they’ll grant me the freedom to take care of the factory!"

Sometimes decisions made by Parliament spread quickly, and Shire got the news even before the military issued orders.

Camille nodded silently. Although both Dejoka and Shire said everything would be fine, she had a mother’s intuition that something was off.

Unknowingly, more people gathered around to bid farewell to Shire.

"Young Master Shire, take this croissant to eat on the way!"

"Poor child, only 17 and already becoming a soldier!"

"Take good care of yourself, child!"

...

Some even started cursing the capitalists:

"Those damned capitalists, they don’t send their own children to the army, yet they demand Shire to enlist!"

"Shire is not even an adult, while their children indulge in pleasure."

"They wouldn’t care about any of this; they only know how to exploit us!"

...

"Shire!" From the back of the crowd, Matthew advanced step by step with the aid of two crutches under his elbows. His face was still pale, but he wore a confident smile.

"Matthew!" Shire looked at him in surprise, "I didn’t know you could get around already!"

"Of course!" Matthew tilted his head in feigned nonchalance, "It’s just a minor injury, I’ve recovered well!"

As Matthew got closer, he steadied himself on one leg, leaned his crutches against his body, and reached out to adjust Shire’s collar with gratitude. "Thanks to you, Shire!"

"You’re not one to say something like that!" Shire laughed in response.

"People can change!" Matthew smiled sadly, "Just as I thought I would be the one enlisting, imagining you seeing me off. But in the end, it’s you who’s going off to join the military..."

"It’s okay!" Shire knew he was thinking about his amputated leg again.

Matthew nodded silently, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. Before coming, he had resolved to appear strong, but his control faltered.

"See you soon!"

"See you soon!"

Shire embraced a few people, bid farewell to Camille, and then got into the car.

As the engine roared, Shire continued to wave goodbye to his family and friends behind. The farther they moved, the farther, his eyes involuntarily became moist.

It was strange; it was just a dozen kilometers away, and Shire could even come home daily, yet he still felt sad.

Shire recalled reading a story about young lions being forced out of the den by their mothers to become independent.

Although Shire wasn’t being driven out, it seemed he was undergoing a similar experience.

Suddenly, Shire felt a bit lonely and a bit fearful. He didn’t know what awaited him ahead.

Shire didn’t notice Francis standing on a high terrace of a villa by the road, dressed in pajamas, silently smoking his pipe as he watched the car slowly pass by and move away. After hesitating for a while, Francis went back inside to dial the phone:

"Yes, he’s gone to Paris!"

"I’ve heard his tractor factory has already started producing new tanks, and the progress is swift."

"We should prepare early!"

After hanging up, Francis sat alone in a chair, lost in thought. Somewhere deep inside, there was a sense of reluctance and hesitation.

But in a moment, his eyes turned cold, and he mumbled through gritted teeth, "You forced me. You want to ruin everything I have, you will have to pay the price!"

...

The Paris City Defense Command.

The command was set up next to the police station in the fourth arrondissement of Paris. Part of the reason was that it could coordinate both the army and the police, one for external defense and the other for internal order, tasks all handled by Gallieni.

But that was just one reason.

The fourth arrondissement also housed the city hall essential for Paris’s operation and the hospitals needed during wartime. The Seine River also passed through the district, with two river islands easy to defend and hard to attack.

Gallieni stationed the command here, preparing for Paris’s potential fall, intending to use the district’s facilities and unique terrain for a final stand against the Germans.

Luckily, it never came to that.

Lauren drove along Saint Anthony Avenue and finally stopped in front of the command.

The two sentries at the entrance immediately stood at attention, but Shire could still sense their distraction. Though they remained motionless in their military posture, their eyes were slyly peeking at Shire.

They must have heard Shire was coming to the command as an aide and were filled with curiosity to see what the legendary Shire looked like.

Perhaps out of vanity, Shire actually worried they might be disappointed.

The first floor housed the communications department, with telephone calls resounding and many uniformed orderlies pacing back and forth.

As Shire entered, the room’s noises noticeably paused, and the orderlies slowed their steps, all eyes fixed on Shire.

With admiration, envy, and of course, jealousy.

An orderly mustered the courage to approach Shire, extending his hand: "You must be Young Master Shire, welcome!"

"Thank you!" Shire replied, somewhat nervous and a bit intimidated by the full room of soldiers.

Lauren, familiar with the place, led Shire up the stairs while glancing at his pocket watch and said, "General Gallieni always gets up at eight o’clock. We have twenty minutes left, so we can wait..."

Before he finished, Lauren noticed General Gallieni standing at the staircase landing, in his faded uniform, with what should be a bright red pair of military pants now showing hints of pink, a holster hanging from his belt, giving him an imposing look.

As he spotted Shire, a smile unconsciously spread across his lips.

"General, you..."

Lauren paused, then understood that the General had deviated from his decades-old habit just to greet Shire personally.

Gallieni wanted to warmly put his arm around Shire’s shoulder and cheerily say, "Welcome, little fellow, I’ve been waiting for you!"

However, the command had no secrets from the capitalists, and many naturally treated leaking information as "earning side money."

Gallieni could only keep a stern face and sarcastically say, "Look who’s here, the great savior of France. We’re eagerly awaiting your lessons on warfare!"

A few nearby people cooperatively laughed, understanding Gallieni’s tone.

But they didn’t see Gallieni’s wink at Shire, seemingly saying, I mean it, Shire, you are the genuine savior of France!