CHAPTER 320: REVISED: CHAPTER 320 TRIUMPHAL PARADE

Shire stayed stationed at point "A" for two more days.

The wet weather by the seaside and the muddy trenches made everyone feel sticky all over. Some tried bathing in the sea to feel better, but they quickly realized that once the seawater dried, it was even worse.

Unfortunately, during these two days, the 105th Infantry was assigned to the rear lines to handle the corpses.

The task seemed simple, just dig a big pit and throw in all the bodies they could find.

However, there were too many highly decomposed bodies and dismembered limbs, making the job utterly repulsive for the soldiers.

Though it was better than fighting at the front, considering the snipers hiding in the jungle, it wasn’t much safer either.

On this day, Shire was discussing with Tijani over a map, planning the area to clear the next day.

They needed to first send out sniper teams to watch over suspicious jungles and caves, then plan out several burial sites to minimize their workload.

At this moment, the signalman exclaimed and dashed over, handing a telegram to Tijani, excitedly reporting, "General, they are calling us back! General Winter says he’ll issue rest tags tonight, and we’ll board a transport ship to return to the base at dawn tomorrow!"

The rest tag was an iron tag worn around the neck, a measure the French Army used during this period to prevent deserters from blending into retreating troops to escape.

Tijani was momentarily stunned, then let out a sigh of relief, "Finally, we can leave this hellhole!"

The command center erupted in cheers, and the soldiers outside who heard the news couldn’t help but smile. Some even excitedly danced with their comrades to celebrate.

Only Shen Bili had a hint of worry in his eyes. He paced back and forth in the trench before summoning his courage to step into the command post and stand before Shire.

"Colonel." Shen Bili’s expression was somewhat gloomy, "If the 105th Infantry is to be transferred back to base, should I return to my original unit?"

Shire replied with a half-smile, "If you want to transfer back, I have no objection!"

Shen Bili detected a glimmer of hope in Shire’s tone, his eyes widened with anticipation, "Do you mean I can choose to stay with the 105th Infantry?"

Shire nodded slightly, "I’ve already reported your case to General Winter, and he has no objection. If you’re willing, he’ll instruct the staff to handle your transfer procedures."

"I am willing, Colonel!" Shen Bili responded eagerly, "Of course, I am willing!"

Shire put down the pencil in his hand, lifted his head, and looked at Shen Bili, "Have you thought this through? This may not be an ordinary transfer. In the future, you might serve with the 105th Infantry on the French battlefield and possibly become a Frenchman."

This meant Shen Bili would have to give up everything in Australia, including his family.

Shen Bili was stunned for a moment, then resolutely nodded, "Yes, I understand."

"No regrets?" Shire asked again.

"No regrets!" Shen Bili answered without a hint of hesitation.

Smart choice, Shire thought; his remaining life would no longer be impoverished. He would become Shire’s personal bodyguard, both on the battlefield and in life.

...

The 105th Infantry was not transferred back to base but directly to France, away from the front lines.

As rumored, the Germans might stop at nothing to eliminate Shire, so the itinerary for Shire and the 105th Infantry was kept highly secret.

Except for General Winter, no one—including Gallieni—knew about it.

This was to avoid the Minister of the Navy.

Shire couldn’t risk his life, as the transport ship he boarded was slow and not very seaworthy; if a German submarine tracked it, it would be a one-way trip.

It was only when the 105th Infantry arrived at Toulon Port that Shire made a call to report to Gallieni.

Gallieni’s tone was very calm:

"You’ve already returned?"

"No problem, I’ll arrange a train for you."

"However, they want you to march into Paris!"

Shire, on the other end of the phone, was a bit surprised, "March into Paris?"

"Yes," Gallieni replied, "The parliament has been discussing this. The front lines are deadlocked, and both the military and the public are growing weary. The parliament believes your victory can boost morale, especially yours."

Shire hesitated for a moment, then replied, "No problem, but notify the parliament ten minutes before our arrival!"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Gallieni’s understanding "Hmm" was heard.

After hanging up the phone, Gallieni was lost in thought for a moment.

Damned parliament, he was almost fooled by those guys.

If everything was scheduled perfectly, including the timing and location, even the parade route, then the best way for the Germans to eliminate Shire would be to plant an assassin on the street with a rifle waiting for Shire to appear.

Many in the parliament wanted Shire dead. They didn’t need to collaborate with the Germans, just leak the parade schedule and route.

As he was thinking, the phone rang again. It was Shire.

"General," Shire said, "You can release the news, saying we will only arrive in three days."

Gallieni silently praised this, realizing it would make the Germans think they had more time, while Shire’s troops would rapidly appear and complete this "morale-boosting" ceremony.

...

The 105th Infantry arrived in Paris early the next morning.

During WWI, trains had a speed of about 50 kilometers per hour. With stops for transporting frontline supplies, the over 800 kilometers from Toulon Port to Paris took 26 hours.

On the train, Shire longed for Eric’s plane, which, although only traveled at over 100 kilometers per hour, flew in a straight line without stops, possibly making the trip in six to seven hours.

The troops disembarked at the Lyon Railway Station, their unkempt appearances unchanged, carrying rifles as they queued up and marched onto the streets.

(The above image is the Paris Lyon Station, real scene from 1896)

The French, who had just woken up, initially didn’t know what was happening. They only heard a series of slogan chants and whistles from the street below.

Puzzled, they opened their windows and looked out, seeing a troop passing by. They looked like they had come straight from the front lines, with disheveled uniforms and dirty faces, most sporting beards. They appeared to be a defeated force in retreat.

Out of politeness, they still waved to welcome the troops.

Then suddenly, someone exclaimed:

"My God, that’s the 105th Infantry!"

"Is that Shire’s troop? The one that won the battle at Gelibolu?"

"Yes, see, there’s Shire, on the carriage!"

...

The crowd instantly erupted in cheers, the shouts changing from sympathy to surprise.

The news spread quickly through the streets and alleys, and people swarmed to welcome Shire’s troops, many even in their pajamas.