Chapter 242: Charles's Lesson
Charles wasn't overly concerned with Cobbod's elaborate trap. He would support Cobbod by participating in interviews for La Gazette des Honneurs, boosting his own popularity, but without any direct mention of airports or the consolidation of Army aviation under his command. Instead, they shifted the focus to frontline supplies. Charles would continue donating essential items to the troops, such as sleeping bags, socks, food, and cigarettes.
Cobbod, knowing human nature well, subtly conveyed in several articles that Charles was not actually interested in taking command of Army aviation. Cobbod emphasized that Charles believed in "quality over quantity," and he considered his elite, carefully trained squadron to be the best in the world. In Cobbod's words, adding a group of poorly-trained recruits would only complicate things for him.
Cobbod understood the difference between wanting something and being pursued for it. If Charles openly expressed a desire to recruit Army pilots, offering incentives and encouraging them to join, the pilots might hesitate: "Why does Charles want us so urgently? Is there some hidden danger?" But if Charles instead appeared indifferent, the pilots would feel the pressure: "He doesn't seem to want us. Maybe we aren't good enough? We should work harder to prove ourselves." And so, Cobbod masterfully stoked enthusiasm among the ranks.
Meanwhile, Charles directed his own attention toward developing aerial bombs and the Caproni bomber. He felt that chasing down German planes one by one was inefficient. Bombers could deliver more damage, taking out enemy planes and pilots on the ground and erasing any threat before it took off.
Thanks to the expertise at the Saint-Étienne Armory, the development of aerial bombs progressed swiftly. In just a week, the bombs were designed, tested, and shown to be highly effective. The Caproni bomber took slightly longer; after two and a half weeks, Éric and the research team had three prototypes ready. They expected the prototypes would need additional testing and adjustments before entering production.
However, the trial flights exceeded everyone's expectations. The Caproni bomber performed excellently, achieving a top speed of 113 km/h even while carrying an 800 kg payload. Éric was thrilled and relayed the news to Charles over the phone with contagious excitement:
"This is remarkable, Colonel! We wondered if it might have been tested or modified earlier because it's simply flawless. Imagine—113 km/h! This could make it the safest bomber in the world!"
Charles knew exactly what Éric meant. Most contemporary fighters, including the Avro and similar German models, had top speeds of around 100 km/h. But the three-engine Caproni could fly faster than these planes, even when loaded with bombs. In other words, no fighter—whether French or German—could catch up to the Caproni bomber.
This meant it wouldn't even need fighter escorts; it could penetrate enemy lines, deliver its bombs, and escape unscathed. Charles gave Éric a few directives:
"I want the research team to keep pushing for higher engine power. Begin mass-producing the bombers and aim for twenty units within two weeks. And one more thing—start development on a single-seat fighter as well."
"Yes, Colonel!" Éric replied, his excitement evident. "We just might be making aviation history!"
Charles wasn't interested in making history. His goal was to keep the bombers ahead of enemy fighters. When the Germans eventually improved their engines and began to match the Caproni's speed, Charles's squadron would already have 150-horsepower engines. That speed advantage would ensure that the German airfields remained vulnerable.
…
One day, as the snow stopped and the sun cast dazzling reflections across the frozen landscape, Charles found time to visit the Carter Flying Club. He wanted to check on the progress of his squadron's training.
As Charles arrived, Carter was in the middle of a lesson, animatedly lecturing a group of new pilots in a first-floor classroom. These new recruits didn't yet have the rugged look of seasoned aviators; they were brimming with youthful energy and enthusiasm. However, the classroom felt tense, and the lecture seemed dry and uninspiring. Carter appeared visibly frustrated, scratching his head in an effort to engage the young men. It was clear that neither teacher nor students were truly enjoying the session.
Noticing Charles, Carter motioned to the class. "All right, everyone, some of you came here hoping to meet Colonel Charles, right?" The recruits perked up, sitting straighter as anticipation filled the room.
Carter waved Charles over, and the recruits erupted into excited whispers. Was this the famed Colonel Charles they'd heard so much about?
When the classroom quieted down, Charles made his way to the front, greeting them in his steady voice:
"Hello, gentlemen. If any of you joined the Flying Corps just to meet me, you might be disappointed. You're probably more likely to see me on the streets of Paris than here."
The recruits chuckled. Many had indeed imagined that joining the squadron would mean they'd regularly be under Charles's command. But the reality was, he only visited the club about once a month.
Once the laughter subsided, Charles posed a question:
"Do you know what makes the Flying Corps different from other branches of the military?"
The recruits hesitated for a moment, then began calling out answers:
"The Flying Corps fights in the skies, sir."
"We have speed on our side!"
"More women like us!"
The room burst into laughter. Carter shot a glare around the classroom, and the recruits quickly stifled their giggles, though the amusement lingered on their faces.
Charles smiled faintly and, without reprimanding them, answered in a steady, deliberate tone:
"I believe the biggest difference, gentlemen, is that you're alone. On the battlefield, you can only rely on yourself. No one else can help you."
The recruits fell silent, the mood growing somber. Some nodded quietly, grasping the weight of Charles's words. Flying in this era lacked even basic communication tools; coordination between planes was nearly impossible. Each pilot relied on their own skills alone. Whether tailing an enemy or being pursued, facing engine failure, fuel leaks, or enemy fire—each of them would have to confront these challenges alone.
And sometimes, despite the presence of comrades nearby, they would be powerless to help one another, forced to watch as fate unfolded.
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