I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 63: Cunning Little Fellow

Shire was assigned an independent dormitory, although the area was small, only 7 square meters, and the furnishings were very simple, just a bed, a table and chair, and a small bookshelf. But this was already the treatment for a colonel, as those below the rank of colonel had to share rooms, sometimes two or even four people in one room, with four beds arranged in bunks in a small room.

Shire became a lieutenant, a rank given to officers upon graduation from military school, even though Shire had never attended military school.

Gallieni had said, "This guy invented the tank and the sidecar motorcycle, and they indeed played a significant role on the battlefield. It’s not too much to make him a colonel!"

He then added, "If anyone can come up with useful inventions like him, I would also give them a rank!"

No one objected, so Shire received a full set of equipment a lieutenant should have:

Two sets of military uniforms for change, with a gold stripe on the cuffs.

A pair of binoculars with a case, which could be conveniently carried on the shoulder.

A whistle, used to give orders to soldiers, and sometimes for communication or warnings among officers.

A revolver, M1892 model, for command and self-defense.

A ceremonial sword, the M1845 infantry officer’s model. Shire really liked this sword and couldn’t put it down when he got it.

It was exquisitely made, with a copper guard, a single steel blade with two grooves, one wide and one narrow, and the manufacturer’s mark stamped on the guard.

However, it was 87 centimeters long and nearly dragged on the ground when Shire wore it on his waist.

Shire understood that carrying it on the battlefield was almost suicidal; it served no practical purpose and would hinder his movements.

In the end, Shire regretfully put it by his bed as a decoration.

After changing into his uniform, Shire couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror.

One had to admit, the French military uniforms of that period were very handsome. Unfortunately, aesthetics often clashed with the demands of the battlefield; the more beautiful and colorful something is, the more attention it attracts, which also means a quicker death!

Opening the door and stepping out of the dormitory, the orderly Adrian was waiting at the door. He was assigned to Shire by Gallieri and was responsible for all of Shire’s daily needs.

Adrian looked Shire up and down and suddenly panicked, "Sorry, Lieutenant! It’s my fault, I gave you boots without spurs. I... I’ll replace them immediately!"

"Spurs?" Shire stopped Adrian, "No, they are not necessary. I don’t ride horses!"

"But..." Adrian explained, "Every officer rides a horse. Even if you don’t now, you will in the future!"

Shire was momentarily stunned, then understood.

During this period, horses were very important to officers. They sometimes needed to ride, waving their swords to command troops in a charge or quickly run around the formation to issue loud orders so everyone could hear.

Although staff officers like Shire did not need to go to the battlefield, they still had tasks like delivering documents, sending intelligence, or temporary command, which often required riding a horse.

However, standing among infantry on the battlefield while commanding from horseback?

Just the thought of it sent a shiver down Shire’s spine. He absolutely wouldn’t do that, now or in the future!

"No need, Adrian!" Shire looked at his own boots and insisted on his idea, "These are fine!"

"Adrian!" Someone called out, "Did you forget that the lieutenant has a motorcycle factory? He’s producing motorcycles for our army, and you want him to wear spurred boots to ride a horse?"

Hearing this, Adrian felt relieved. A motorcycle might indeed be a better choice.

However, Shire also couldn’t ride a motorcycle.

At this moment, Gallieni walked over. He looked Shire up and down, with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

But he still mocked, "As expected from a capitalist background, Lieutenant! You take good care of yourself. I wonder if this little flower grown in a greenhouse can withstand the rigors of the army!"

"Yes, General!" Shire could only respond this way.

Gallieni turned and called out not far away, "Fernan!"

"Yes, General!" A major came running over and stood at attention in front of Gallieni.

"He’s yours!" Gallieni waved his white-gloved hand at Shire, "Tell him what he needs to do. And before that, teach him how to salute!"

"Yes, General!" Fernan stood at attention and replied, then turned to Shire and said, "Come with me, Lieutenant. Let’s go downstairs!"

The training ground was in the backyard of the headquarters, where flowers and low trees were planted. In the center was a statue of Jilber Demot.

Jilber was the one who drafted the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen and designed the French tricolor flag. He also participated in both the American War of Independence and the French Revolution and was called "the hero of the two worlds."

Fernan chose to train Shire in the open space in front of the statue. Shire suspected that Fernan wanted to use the statue to educate him, the capitalist.

As a "teacher," Fernan was quite competent. He trained Shire seriously, just like any new recruit, with saluting, marching, and some positions for holding a rifle while standing guard.

Shire was not a good student. He found it somewhat boring, but he pretended to be very serious and enthusiastic.

"If this were regular training, it would take at least a few months!" Fernan looked at Shire’s terrible military posture and frowned, "But the General only gave me one day. God, what can be trained in one day?"

Shire wanted to tell him, "Major, is it possible that General Gallieni only gave you one day not to train me well in one day, but because he didn’t want to waste too much time!"

But Shire said nothing.

He believed that Gallieni was waiting to catch him making a mistake. This might be the real intention behind making him train in military posture.

Shire wasn’t wrong. At that moment, Gallieni was on the second floor of the operations department, watching Shire. He wanted to see Shire disobedient or challenging Fernan.

Only then could Gallieni walk up to Shire with dignity and rightfully scold him:

"What do you think the army is?"

"Do you think just because you invented the tank and sidecar motorcycle, you can flaunt military discipline and become an exception? Do you think you can rise above others, even disobey orders?"

"This is the army! It’s a place of discipline and obedience!"

"No matter who you are or what you’ve done before, or how many achievements you’ve had, now, you’re just a lieutenant!"

However, Gallieni never got this opportunity, which left Gallieni feeling like he was punching cotton.

He had rehearsed his speech in his mind, even adding gestures, and envisioned Shire’s aggrieved expression... but there was nothing.

Gallieni was going mad with frustration. He paced around the operations room, occasionally peeking out the window to spy on Shire, but Shire remained earnest and diligent in his learning, even if it wasn’t very well done.

Suddenly, Gallieni stopped in his tracks, paused for a moment, then chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Cunning little devil, he figured it all out. It’s all within his calculations!"