It's normal for Dejoka to have this feeling because Shire has traveled from the modern era to this time.
At this moment, World War I had just begun, and everyone thought the war would end soon, but Shire knew that this war would last for more than four years and that France would lose 1.69 million people in it.
A 4.25% mortality rate, excluding old people, women, minors, and bureaucratic offspring who don't need to serve, the mortality rate among soldiers would be about one in four.
What a terrifying number, one in four soldiers would die.
If you count the wounded too, it's almost impossible for any soldier to come out of this war unscathed.
Shire would turn 18 soon, and if nothing unexpected happened, he would be conscripted next year or the year after to face the flames of war.
He didn't want to work so hard to travel to this time only to die inexplicably on the battlefield.
To avoid all this, he decided to give himself ample reasons not to go to the battlefield.
Or, even if conscripted, he could stay far from the war.
Shire thought the military industry was a good path.
If he could provide the army with high-quality, even cutting-edge weapons, which could also help France win the war, what reason would they have to send him to the battlefield?
He could both save his life and make money, why not do it?
In less than half an hour, Francis came back.
He waved the documents in his hand and excitedly announced:
"The motorcycle factory is ours now. The guy was hesitating to abandon the factory and leave, but as soon as he heard about the exchange, he grabbed it like a lifeline and signed the contract without saying a word!"
Pierre looked at Francis in surprise. He thought it would take at least a day or two to negotiate, so he didn't rush to stop it, but unexpectedly the contract was signed in a blink of an eye.
"Father, is this really a good thing?" Pierre didn't hide his pessimism and disappointment: "Now, all our assets are in Davaz, we will lose everything once the Germans arrive!"
Francis didn't take Pierre's complaints seriously. He smiled and looked at Shire: "So, you think like me, that the Germans won't get here, right?"
Francis had been paying attention to the army's movements, believing that the French Army was conducting a strategic retreat in an organized and planned manner, conserving their strength and waiting for an opportunity to counterattack.
Based on this, he had staked all his assets.
But Shire shook his head:
"No, sir, quite the opposite. I think the Germans will get here!"
Francis was surprised by this answer.
Although he was firm in his judgment, he didn't understand Shire's intent.
If the Germans were to come, wouldn't increasing the stake mean losing everything?
Seeing that Shire had more to say but was hesitant, Francis immediately understood that he had something inconvenient to say in front of others.
Originally, Francis didn't want to pay attention. He was just a teenager, what could he understand? Previously, his words seemed to be trying to attract attention, which is typical for teenagers.
But curiosity drove Francis to decide to talk to this little guy.
"Alright, let's have a cup of coffee in the study!"
Francis's tone left no room for doubt, like an officer giving orders to his subordinates.
This made Shire a little uncomfortable.
Old man, you don't even want to acknowledge me as your grandson, yet you act all high and mighty?
Not fulfilling the duties of a grandfather but naturally enjoying the rights?
If he wasn't planning to use this guy to develop the military industry, Shire wouldn't bother with him!
...
The study on the second floor was simple yet elegant. The walls on both sides were lined with bookshelves, packed with books. In the center stood a mahogany desk, apart from the lamp it held a few chairs and a three-tiered book ladder.
Shire and Francis sat facing each other at the desk, a butler brought in two cups of coffee and placed them in front of each, the rich aroma wafting through the air.
Francis believed only coffee beans grown in highland and subtropical climates were exceptionally rich, hence he always had them transported from distant Algeria at double the price.
Holding the coffee elegantly, he leaned back in his chair, sniffed the aroma, then took a small sip, his gaze never leaving the cup, and asked casually:
"You seem to have something to say?"
Shire added a sugar cube to his coffee, stirring it casually, and said:
"Sir, I think you should be more concerned about whether France can win this war rather than whether the Germans will get here!"
Francis asked back nonchalantly:
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Shire shook his head slightly:
"No, sir. If France loses this war, whether the Germans make it here or not, the factory will inevitably be plundered!"
Francis looked up in surprise at Shire.
The boy was right, the tractor factory, the motorcycle factory, and even the machine gun production line were exactly what the Germans needed.
If the Germans won this war, the factories, only a few kilometers from Paris, would be impossible to protect. They would move all the equipment and even the tractors to Germany.
Shire added:
"So, what we need to do is, one, help France win this war, and two, defend Davaz."
The first is the strategic direction, the second is the tactical direction, only by winning both can we ensure the factory's safety.
Francis stared at Shire for a moment, then suddenly laughed, looking at Shire as if at a joke:
"Boy, you seem eager to make a good impression on me, but you are trying too hard!"
"Help France win the war? Defend Davaz?"
"If you were Napoleon, I might believe you, but..."
Francis smiled and shook his head, with a hint of disdain in his eyes.
Shire rolled his eyes, speechless at Francis's arrogance: Do I need to impress you?
But he didn't want to dwell on this with Francis, the strongest retort would be to prove it with facts and slap this old guy's face.
Shire noticed a map on the desk, which was used by Francis to record the sales of tractors in various places.
Shire moved the coffee cup aside, took the map, and spread it out in front of him. While pointing at the map, he confidently analyzed:
"The Germans plan to surround Paris with two army groups, the First Army Group to the west and the Second Army Group to the east."
"Of these, the western First Army Group is moving very fast, leaving the Second Army Group 40 kilometers behind."
Francis smiled and made a "hmm" sound, showing this little guy knew something.
But these were not secrets. Frontline reports and the fleeing troops could all bring the latest news.
Although this was admirable for a 17-year-old, if this little guy thought he could earn recognition with it, he was wasting his time!
Shire ignored Francis's strange look and continued:
"If the situation develops like this, the Germans will undoubtedly surround Paris and win this war."
Francis slightly nodded to acknowledge this deduction.
Paris is the political center and transportation hub of France. Once Paris falls, the morale of the French army and citizens would plummet, complicating military maneuvers, thus nearing the end of the war.
However...
"Do you have a way to change this situation?" Francis's lips curled into a mocking smile.
This guy doesn't know his limits, does he really think he's Napoleon!
Shire pointed to the position of the German First Army Group and said:
"If it changes its marching direction from surrounding Paris from the west to the east, France might have a chance to win this war!"
Francis shook his head slightly, jesting:
"Very unfortunate, boy. We can't command the enemy's army!"
Francis put down his coffee cup, gesturing as if to dismiss Shire, planning to end this meaningless conversation.
Shire understood, Francis might be an excellent businessman, but he knew nothing about the military, and even mockingly dismissed others due to his ignorance.
Shire lightly trailed his finger forward:
"You're right, sir! We can't command the enemy's army, but we can change the retreat direction of the French Army."
"And this will draw the enemy's attention because they want to annihilate the French Army!"
Shire looked up directly into Francis's eyes, his gaze as if staring at a fool.
Francis's face slightly changed; he had a faint feeling this boy was not as simple as he seemed.