Chapter 483: Covert Support
The moment Philippe Pétain began procuring weapons from across the Atlantic, the balance of power within fractured France began to shift in his favor. His soldiers were well-armed, adequately trained, and prepared to defend what remained under his control.
Though Pétain’s regime acquired American small arms, France’s military doctrine remained woefully outdated. Few armored cars or early tank models had survived the Great War, and even fewer were still operable in 1919—three years into the civil war.
Stagnant trench warfare had returned as the norm, with only the faintest signs of modern stormtrooper tactics beginning to develop in the labyrinthine battlefields. In the vacuum left by the Republic’s collapse, various warlords had risen. Among them, two figures stood dominant in the east: Charles de Gaulle and Philippe Pétain.
Pétain had carved out early success in his stronghold, leveraging his influence to expand both industrial output and economic control. He had spent years training the next generation—boys too young to fight in the Great War but now reaching military age—arming them with the best weapons he could afford, mostly in bulk from the United States.
But now, war had reached his southern frontier. His young army, still green and unbloodied, found itself pitted against the hardened veterans of the Gallian Militia.
At first, they held. The newly acquired M2 .50 caliber Browning machine guns, primitive but devastating in their early form, tore through the thin armor of de Gaulle’s dwindling vehicle corps. Yet their static deployment made them easy targets for return fire and artillery. One by one, those nests were annihilated in coordinated strikes.
Meanwhile, the young infantrymen—armed with Springfield 1903s, supported by M1918 BARs and water-cooled M1917 Brownings—were swiftly outmaneuvered. De Gaulle’s troops, veterans of trench raids and urban warfare, slipped through the lines and into close quarters.
With pistols and trench clubs, they butchered Pétain’s conscripts in the confusion. The line collapsed. The southern front broke. As panicked reinforcements rushed to contain the breach, Pétain stood in his capital, fuming at the latest report.
"Unbelievable! I invested everything in this army—and they routed in their first real battle? With every advantage in firepower?! Cowards! This is the kind of shit that makes me wonder if France was ever worth saving!"
I could have embezzled taxpayer dollars and fled to Morrocco like the rest of the government that had any sense when things were getting bad in 1915. But no! I decided to stay and bleed for this mess like the rest of you, and where did that get me? Right fucking here!"