I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 623: If Quantity Can't Keep Up, Consider Quality

After seeing off General Winter, Charles immediately went to find Wells.

Wells had a small villa inside the shipyard, built by the sea. From one side, he could see the naval port; from the other, the endless expanse of the ocean.

Wells enjoyed standing on the balcony, letting the sea breeze blow against him as he watched the warships he had overseen set sail to conquer the world. Only then did he feel power, strength—and safety.

But that feeling always diminished, or even vanished entirely, when Wells remembered who lay on the other side of the water—Britain.

That afternoon, after returning from the factory, Wells, as usual, stood on the balcony, gazing out over the sea.

He stared silently toward the distant horizon, a pipe in his mouth, standing motionless in the cold wind like a statue.

The French Navy had declined. It barely clung to the title of the world's fifth-largest fleet.

(The naval ranking during World War I was: Britain, Germany, the U.S., Japan, and France.)

Being fifth in the world might sound decent, but Wells knew it meant little.

Because the French Navy was always under the shadow of the British Royal Navy—just like the German Navy, it couldn't do much.

The difference was that the German Navy was directly blockaded, while the French Navy was indirectly suppressed.

"Sir," the butler approached Wells cautiously and bowed. "Someone wishes to see you—it's General Charles. He's waiting outside."

Wells was stunned. His previously lifeless expression bloomed into vitality. "Invite him in at once!"

Though there was no need, as Wells was already hurrying outside to greet him in person.

When he saw Charles, he shook his hand warmly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Delighted to see you, General. This is your first time visiting the shipyard, isn't it? You should've informed me beforehand so I could be better prepared."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Wells," Charles replied.

A general like Charles couldn't afford to have his itinerary exposed—a concept someone like Wells, a businessman, couldn't quite grasp.

They sat down on the sofa. Wells dismissed the servants and personally poured Charles a glass of red wine.

"Would you like something to eat?" Wells asked. "I can have something prepared at once."

He had heard from Tijani that the army's food had been quite poor lately.

"No," Charles declined. He wanted to handle business quickly and didn't want to waste time.

Charles explained everything about the naval minister and General Winter's attempt to acquire the industrial rights and production license.

Wells seemed startled. His eyes widened, and he spoke with lingering fear, "If the echo detector's rights were sold to them, Brest Shipyard would be finished."

Charles found this odd.

He could understand why the echo detector shouldn't fall into British hands, but why would the naval minister owning it threaten the shipyard's survival?

Wells explained:

"There's another shipyard in the south—Toulon Shipyard, General."

"The naval minister is planning to shift the focus there."

"Because Brest mainly serves the Atlantic, while Toulon serves the Mediterranean."

Charles suddenly understood.

With the Royal Navy looming over the Atlantic like a behemoth, the French Navy didn't see itself as capable of competing. They were planning to give up.

Abandoning the Atlantic meant redirecting to the Mediterranean.

After all, the Mediterranean only housed a few minor powers, so the French Navy could still claim dominance there.

Charles smiled. "If that happens, the French Navy will never be able to catch up with the British."

Already weak, dividing its strength and focusing on the Mediterranean—a safe haven—was tantamount to surrender.

"Yes," Wells sighed, his voice tinged with helplessness. "But that seems unavoidable."

"You think France has no chance against Britain?" Charles asked.

"The navy isn't like the army, General," Wells said solemnly. "It requires long-term buildup—years, decades even. Unlike the army, which can win with a few pieces of advanced equipment and good tactics."

Ship tonnage is fixed, and naval battles often rely on brute strength—ships and guns. Without industrial power and resources, everything is just a castle in the sky.

And France, devastated by the war, faced severe shortages. Naval construction had all but stalled.

Wells added:

"Forgive me, General. You probably don't want to hear this, but it's the truth."

"Even if we have advanced torpedoes and echo detectors, it won't change that reality."

"For instance, even now our navy can only take part in battles under the Royal Navy's command, and it's still dangerous."

Charles looked at him with curiosity. "Dangerous?"

Wells nodded with resignation. "The British aren't as simple as you think. General Winter said they could 'handle it themselves.' Have you considered how they plan to do that?"

Charles didn't respond. This was classified. He didn't believe Wells knew the answer.

Wells raised his glass and clinked it lightly against Charles's. "What I imagine is, our warships might suffer some 'accidents' during operations—like being sunk by German submarines, hitting mines, etc. These are unavoidable, wouldn't you say?"

Charles understood. "And then, the British would get the echo detector?"

Wells gave a quiet "Mm" and countered, "Why not? They could prepare for it, stage a 'rescue' quickly, then destroy the evidence in a demolition. What could we do?"

Charles fell silent. He hadn't thought of this.

But it was indeed possible—and likely.

When it came to national interests, especially with the risk of Charles seizing total control over strategic materials, a bit of sabotage was nothing.

Especially when the opponent was a man known for his shamelessness: the infamous "Minister of Munitions."

After a moment's reflection, Charles said thoughtfully:

"Seems like we need to warn Professor Fessenden. We should install self-destruct mechanisms."

"Not much explosive charge is needed—just enough to destroy the core."

Wells's eyes lit up. A self-destruct device? Brilliant idea. That would throw a wrench into any British plan to seize the technology.

But Wells's mood soon darkened again. "The bigger problem is that our steel and coal mines have long been under German control. That's why our naval gap with Britain keeps widening. Competing with them… seems unrealistic."

Britain had American loans, and its homeland wasn't a battlefield. Its resources were untouched. France was in much worse shape.

Charles nodded in understanding—but he wasn't ready to give up.

"If quantity can't keep up, then let's consider quality," Charles said.

"Quality?" Wells looked at him, puzzled.

He didn't understand—who could rival Britain in shipbuilding?

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