Chapter 238: Flowers and Swords
At the same time, Heinz Guderian's attack on the right flank near the Swiss line ended in victory.
With both flanks lost, France was like a finch trapped in a cage, able only to let out helpless cries.
Daladier still wanted to request support from Montgomery, the commander of the British Army stationed in Paris, but what he received was only a shake of the head.
Since the routed army's intrusion into the Belgian border region, photograph after photograph of Allied atrocities had washed away what little international credibility Britain had left like a flood.
It was not only the Belgian people who were cursing.
The people of Britain were cursing as well.
The public, who had never wished to be involved in the war, angrily denounced Churchill as a warmonger who had dragged the flames of war to Britain's doorstep.
In London, protests demanding Chamberlain's return to office grew stronger by the day.
Churchill, who held the powers of a wartime cabinet, offered no explanation. He blamed everything on the Germans and directly dispatched cavalry to forcibly disperse the protesters, declaring them agitators bought by Germany.
Of course, this also reminded Churchill of one thing.
At a time when public emotion was surging so violently, if he suffered another stumble on the French battlefield, the public's reaction would no longer be limited to protests.
Montgomery also wanted to request reinforcements from home.
But Britain was already facing troubles both internal and external.
A deeply despairing Daladier ran his hands through his hair.
His face, which had not been properly washed in days, had long since lost its gentlemanly elegance. The wrinkles at his temples radiated deep anxiety.
Just as he sat in his office chair, silently contemplating France's future, there came a knock at the door.
Weygand and Reynaud, who were responsible for commanding the Paris defense line, walked in and brought him bad news.
"Mr. President, the German Army on the front has stopped attacking."
It sounded like good news.
But everyone in the room knew it was terrible news.
According to Air Force intelligence from the past two days, the German Air Force had been mainly concentrated on the left and right flanks.
Although the First Armored Division's casualty ratio on the frontal battlefield could reach one to one, or even one to one point five, these German units were likely only second-line feinting forces.
Once the elite German troops from the flanks returned to the front, the current "achievements" would become nothing more than a balloon about to burst.
And now, the German Army stopping its frontal attack meant that the balloon was about to burst.
"How many aircraft do we still have?" Daladier asked.
"Fewer than two hundred."
Weygand's voice was heavy.
"With all due respect, Mr. President, we should prepare to relocate the government."
He paused for a moment.
"Paris… will not last a week."
Weygand was still considered optimistic about the war, but this was already his most optimistic assessment.
According to the pessimists within the Army, the first day of German bombing alone might shatter morale and cause Paris to fall completely.
Reynaud also nodded.
"I believe we can relocate the government to Tours. That would allow us to evacuate to London through the Bay of Biscay at any time."
"Even if the homeland falls, our colonies still possess a large number of troops. If we unite with the British Expeditionary Forces, we can effectively carry out secondary resistance outside the homeland."
As soon as he finished speaking, the door was pushed open again.
The newcomers were Pétain and Kénéral, the pacifist politician who had been imprisoned at the start of the war.
Seeing Kénéral, Reynaud glanced at him with undisguised disdain.
"Who let you out? Guard!"
"It was I…"
Before the guard could answer, Pétain's lips moved.
"Mr. President, I believe there is no need to continue sacrificing lives for this war."
Daladier's jaw dropped slightly.
His face was full of disbelief.
"Marshal Pétain, do you know what you are saying?"
His voice trembled.
"You are a Marshal of France. A hero of the Great War."
Hearing Pétain's words, the war reports in Reynaud's hands scattered across the floor.
He spoke as if his soul had been pulled from his body.
"Marshal Pétain, you cannot be joking."
"We can still resist. If metropolitan France is lost, we will go to North Africa. If North Africa is lost, we will go to the Middle East."
"Even if all the colonies are lost, we must continue this war, even if it means going to the British colonies."
Pétain shook his head.
He took off his military cap and unfastened his uniform, as though he did not want the words he was about to speak to tarnish the honor that had accompanied him for half his life.
"I regret that I did not…"
He stopped, then turned his gaze to Reynaud.
"Prime Minister Reynaud, I believe France should cease all resistance."
"France has been defeated. The German Army at our city gates is the best proof."
"What good would it do to send the Army to the colonies?"
"The United States has not yet expressed any stance. Britain is now condemned by most European countries. And in international public opinion, we have brought this disaster upon ourselves."
His voice became slower.
"Only by concluding a somewhat decent agreement, swallowing humiliation and suffering, can France be preserved."
The Marshal who had been triumphant after the Great War now stood together with the pacifists.
No one understood the sorrow of that better than Pétain himself.
"Henri Philippe Pétain!"
Reynaud slammed the door shut and stared into Pétain's cloudy eyes, as though trying to find even a trace of a soldier's pride within them.
But there was none.
Not a single trace.
This Marshal was like an old man whose candle was flickering in the wind. The only emotion he conveyed was numbness.
"Mr. Kénéral, could you please step outside first?" Pétain said.
Hearing this, Kénéral proudly repeated, "Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister, do you still remember what I said back then?"
"If we had not interfered in the Balkans, if we had not interfered with Germany, everything would have been very different."
After saying that, Kénéral walked out of the room under Reynaud's reddened gaze.
Watching him disappear, Pétain continued, "This humiliation will not last forever. Germany will eventually decline, just as the sky always welcomes sunset."
"On that day, a day that neither you nor I will see, France will surely cast off her shackles and welcome her revival."
Pétain's words plunged Daladier into deep thought.
But they did not shake Reynaud's will to resist to the end.
"I disagree."
Reynaud's voice was firm.
"Even if what you say is true, I do not want to see a generation, or even several generations, living under German rule."
"This is not humiliation. This is the crushing of a nation's dignity."
Pétain shook his head.
He knew he had already become a traitor in Reynaud's eyes.
So he only said softly, "Let the discussion end here."
"If, in three days, all of you still reject my proposal, then I… will resign."
The door opened.
The military cap left behind in the cloakroom symbolized the honor Pétain had discarded.
Reynaud cursed, "Absurd. Completely absurd."
"I do not know why Pétain has become like this. He is a Marshal of France, the sword of a nation."
"How many people regarded him as a hero after the Great War? How could he betray his country like this?"
"A peace treaty?"
His voice grew sharper.
"Germany will absolutely oppress us with unprecedented cruelty. They will impose the terms of the Treaty of Versailles upon France as well, only more viciously, more maliciously, and more cruelly."
"Only by crushing us to the bone will Jörg von Roman, that monarchist military dictator, feel satisfied."
Reynaud clenched his fists.
"Because that is what he wants. He is waiting for us to beg him, just as Germany begged us back then."
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