CHAPTER 333: CHAPTER 333: THE NEIGHBOR’S PLEA

At the Paris City Defense Command, the previously calm staff became tense once again. Everyone was busy contacting medical teams, reserves, automobiles, and even chemical experts.

A large number of soldiers injured by gas were stranded on the front lines and couldn’t be transported back; even if they were, there was no way to treat them.

(Note: The damage from chlorine gas is irreversible. It reacts with the body’s moisture to produce corrosive hydrochloric acid, burning the esophagus, trachea, and even internal organs. Recovery is difficult even if one survives.)

Gallieni sat at his desk, reading one telegram after another, frowning.

He somewhat regretted not listening to Shire. Shire had already issued a warning, but at the time Gallieni was skeptical and did not investigate further, nor did he prepare.

As soon as Shire walked into the operations room, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and instinctively looked at him with hope.

Gallieni said nothing, just handed a telegram to Shire: "Your intelligence was correct. Early this morning, the Germans released gas at Ypres, and the Ypres defensive line has completely collapsed!"

Before Shire could respond, Gallieni analyzed: "Currently, its lethality isn’t very high. According to the intelligence we have, there are an estimated few thousand casualties."

A few thousand casualties might be terrifying in the modern era, but during the First World War, it was quite common.

"However," Gallieni’s tone shifted, "the key point is that we have no means to counter it. This has caused panic across the entire defensive line, with everyone fearing the Germans might use gas in their direction."

Shire nodded to show he understood.

The real horror of gas was its psychological impact on the soldiers:

Just breathing could be fatal. How could they avoid that?

If it couldn’t be avoided, did it mean this war was already lost, and the Germans would occupy wherever they reached?

So now, should they surrender?

Because all resistance seemed meaningless—ultimately, the Germans would win, and resisting would only increase casualties unnecessarily.

Perhaps the Germans themselves weren’t aware of the huge psychological impact gas warfare would have on the Allies; they were more focused on its lethality.

But its lethality was actually disappointing to the Germans:

They released 6,000 canisters, 180,000 kilograms of gas, which resulted in only 5,000 enemy deaths and an additional 10,000 poisoned and injured.

Being poisoned and injured didn’t mean they were incapable of fighting back; they could still likely pull the trigger and fire at the German Army.

If the Germans had realized the psychological threat posed by gas warfare, they should have concentrated an army unit at the breach and carried out large-scale infiltration while the Allies were panicked and demoralized.

If they had done this, the Allies’ defensive line might have completely collapsed, and the outcome of the First World War would have been different.

"Do you know anything more about the gas?" Gallieni asked. "For example, what substance it is, its properties, whether there are any alleviating or medical methods, and so on."

This wasn’t just for treating the wounded but also to stabilize morale and develop countermeasures.

Shire remained cautious about this.

Sometimes "knowing and pretending not to know" is harder than "not knowing and pretending to know." If the latter is exposed, it’s just a lie being revealed; if the former accidentally slips something out, only "German spy" could explain it.

"I don’t have more information, General," Shire answered. "All I know is a suspected experiment by the Germans using gas."

Gallieni’s eyes showed disappointment, but he figured it was normal; the Germans would surely keep it highly confidential.

Just then, Fernan handed over another telegram: "It’s from the Northern Group Army. General Fuxu wants to know if Shire knows more information."

Gallieni acknowledged with a hum. Almost everyone facing this situation would think of the whistleblower Shire, and Fuxu was no exception. He should feel regret for his actions now.

However, the High Command remained silent, and Xia Fei still couldn’t swallow his pride. He probably thought it was more important than the soldiers’ lives, the safety of the defensive line, or even the fate of France.

Gallieni was about to give Fuxu a negative answer when Shire stopped him: "I might not know what it is, but I might have a solution, General."

"What?" Gallieni looked at Shire in shock, and the staff in the command room stopped what they were doing and turned their eyes to Shire.

Gallieni asked doubtfully: "But you don’t know what it is. How can you find a solution?"

Most people believed countering gas required a specific antidote; not knowing what gas it was made an antidote impossible.

"Just possibly, General," Shire explained. "After suspecting the Germans might use gas earlier, I made some preparations."

Saying this, Shire returned to his place, took out a gas mask, and presented it to Gallieni, along with an introduction.

Finally, Shire emphasized: "I can’t be sure it will work, but..."

"Something is better than nothing," Gallieni finished Shire’s thought. "The situation is already dire. Any equipment, any method is worth trying!"

"Yes, that’s what I mean," Shire answered.

"Increase production immediately," Gallieni examined the gas mask and eagerly said: "We will order as many as you can produce. At the very least, it can protect the eyes."

Gallieni was confident in this because it was Shire’s invention, and everything Shire invented had made a significant impact without exception.

...

This time, Shire didn’t disappear without a word as he had before. He chose to visit home.

However, it didn’t make much difference, as Shire couldn’t say anything anyway.

When the car drove into Davaz Town and stopped at his door, Shire was surprised to find his home crowded with many neighbors, both men and women, who were all chattering about something.

The neighbors, upon seeing Shire’s car, hastily came out to greet him:

"It’s Shire. Shire is back."

"Shire, can you think of a way?"

"You must have a way. Save them!"

...

Shire didn’t understand what the neighbors were talking about and walked into the house with a puzzled face.

Dejoka was busy greeting the neighbors, while Camille sat pale-faced on the couch, looking troubled. She even hoped Shire wouldn’t come back.

"It’s like this," Dejoka explained, "Some people from our town are serving in the Twentieth Army..."

Shire suddenly understood. The Twentieth Army was the unit stationed at Ypres, attacked by gas, and still holding the line.

These neighbors must be their families.

Sure enough, the neighbors pleaded with him, some with tear-stained faces:

"Remember Michael, Shire? He was your classmate, and he’s in the Twentieth Army."

"And Goldman, he’s two years older than you and used to skip school with you."

"Save them, Shire. You are our only hope!"

...