I was a tycoon in World War I: Starting to save France

Chapter 99 Flying Club

(The picture above shows French Gypsy cigarettes, which were born in 1910. They are known for their strong, powerful and irritating taste. They were one of the two most common cigarettes in France at the time, the other being French Gauloise)

Carter Flying Club, Paris.

The messy office was filled with smoke. In the sound of gentle jazz music, Carter, with a full beard, held half a cigarette between his fingers. The thick and pungent gypsy smoke continued to rise from the burning black tobacco. A long piece of ash had accumulated on the cigarette butt, and it was about to fall off.

But Carter's attention was always on the paper and pen in his right hand.

Finally, the ash broke and fell off, and Carter almost threw his pen on the table at the same time, cursing: "Damn it, I can never settle the accounts!"

This was the third time Carter had calculated it, but he got four answers in three times. The key point was that each answer did not match the amount.

"I need an accountant!" Carter complained, putting the cigarette in his mouth and taking a few deep puffs. The tobacco jumped happily in the flame, releasing smoke to his heart's content.

Carter exhaled a long puff of smoke, and slumped down in the chair like a bundle of straw, wondering whether he was really suitable to run this club.

Now that he thinks about it, it was probably just an impulse when he started the flying club.

He dreamed of flying a plane in the sky and bringing home the flying francs, but the reality was that the house was full of broken parts and garbage on the ground, and even the club sign was creaking in the cold wind.

"People of this era don't know what flying is!" Carter looked haggard.

Carter was talking about the reality. In this era, almost everyone thinks that those who fly planes into the sky are "dare-heads".

"They're going to fall out of the sky anyway!" This is the most common comment people make about pilots.

Therefore, Carter had no choice but to convert the club into a dual-use military and civilian one. It accepted missions from the military, allowing the equally impoverished pilots to earn a meager income here while the club was maintained.

Just as Carter was frustratedly thinking about the direction of his life, the roar of car engines and the sound of chaotic and hurried footsteps came from outside.

Soon, there was a knock at the door and someone shouted, "Open the door, open the door! We are the French army!"

Carter lazily stood up, frowned and cursed: "Impolite guy..."

"Bang!" The door was pushed open and several figures rushed in with guns in their hands.

Carter panicked instantly: "Hey, what do you want to do?"

He thought he was being robbed, but when he looked closely he saw that they were all in military uniforms and were indeed soldiers.

The fear in Carter's eyes instantly turned into anger: "Sir, this is my private territory. If you want a plane, you should tell me in advance... and..."

Carter turned his gaze outside the door and found that there were at least a thousand soldiers gathered on the runway, all of them armed with live ammunition, ready to face a powerful enemy. He was frightened on the spot.

"And what?" A lieutenant strode in and stood in front of Carter.

"And..." Carter answered hesitantly: "Sorry, sir! I... I don't have that many planes. If you want to go somewhere, I can't take so many people!"

The lieutenant snorted, took the newly found certificate handed over by the soldier, shone the flashlight on it, and asked without looking up: "The day before yesterday morning, there was a plane flying to Antwerp here, remember this?"

Carter thought about it and nodded: "Yes, what happened to the mission Eric took?"

Damn, there must be something wrong with Eric, Carter thought, he had told him not to drink on missions!

"Who ordered you to do this?" The lieutenant looked up and asked, turning his head to the searching soldier and reminded him, "Cigarettes may contain intelligence!"

The soldier immediately and carefully put the cigarettes into the briefcase.

Carter was stunned for a long time and didn't react: "What do you mean? Instructions? Intelligence?" The lieutenant raised his wrist and shone the flashlight on Carter's face, as if pointing a gun at Carter's head. He emphasized his words and repeated: "Who instructed you to do this? It will be good for you to confess, Mr. Carter!"

"Isn't this a mission?" Carter thought there must be some misunderstanding: "I'm just... doing what you want..."

"Don't you know that the person sent is Charles?" the lieutenant asked again.

Carter replied: "I don't know, sir! They said it was a secret mission and I was not allowed to ask about it..."

Suddenly Carter realized something, and his expression froze on his face: "What? Charles? You mean Charles who invented the tank? He was the passenger that day?"

The lieutenant hummed, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly: "You finally remembered!"

"No, no, sir!" Carter's eyes were full of fear. "I didn't know he was Charles. If I knew, I would never send him to Antwerp. Only a fool would do that, unless I'm crazy..."

But the lieutenant didn't listen to Carter's explanation. He raised his hand and waved it vigorously, ordering: "Take him away!"

Several soldiers took Carter away without any explanation, and no matter how Carter cried out for justice, it was of no avail.

The lieutenant looked at the long list in his hand under the light of the flashlight, and after confirming that it was correct, he trotted through the team, came to an open car, stood at attention and saluted, and reported: "All suspects have been controlled, General!"

Gallieni uttered a "hmm".

The reason why he took action to arrest people now was because he didn't want to make too much noise and let the outside world know. After all, the Germans always suspected that Charles was in Antwerp.

If the Germans knew that Gallieni had arrested the person in charge of the airport, their "suspicion" would immediately turn into "confirmation", which would obviously be disadvantageous to Charles.

Now, Charles is on his way to Paris, and he can catch these guys in one fell swoop without any worries.

Gallieni shone his flashlight on the map in front of him and asked a series of questions in a deep voice:
“Are the surrounding roads blocked?”

"Are all the torches in place?"

"Have you checked the commanding heights?"

Major General Monuri stepped forward and replied, "It's all arranged, General!"

In order to welcome Charles, Gallieni deployed an entire infantry brigade of more than 7,000 people at the Flying Club. He was even worried that someone would use machine guns on the commanding heights to shoot down Charles' plane.

Gallieni said "hmm" and stepped out of the car. He tightened his windbreaker and called out without turning his head: "Laurent!"

Major Laurent immediately appeared beside him: "Yes, General!"

Gallieni said expressionlessly: "Do you know what to do now?"

"Yes, General!" Laurent quickly stepped forward and responded: "Follow Charles, and never leave him!"

Laurent could not forget the two days of confinement, and even more so the look in Gallieni's eyes and the words he said to him at that time.

"I trusted you and asked you to be responsible for Charles' safety!" Gallieni's eyes were fierce, as if he was looking at an enemy and wanted to pull Laurent out and shoot him: "But you let them take Charles away under my nose. Do you know what this means? Do you know what this means to France? Do you know what it means to the army?"

Laurent was sweating profusely. He even believed that if something happened to Charles and he couldn't come back, he might spend his whole life in confinement without any room for bargaining.

Fortunately, that didn't happen! Thank God, Charles will be back soon!

Laurent was almost moved to tears!
(End of this chapter)