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Colonel Charles de Gaulle walked through the halls of the French War College with his newest collection of manuscripts.



After a spell in Syria he had returned to lecturing and writing with the esteemed title of Professor of History. It was a privilege to have such a role in a place rich with such historical importance of its own. For the last two centuries every great French military commander, from Napoleon to Foch, had learned their trade within these walls. De Gaulle’s role gave him the ability to expand on his own theories of warfare whilst the new book was an account of the history of the French military as a whole. It was a work that required many collaborators but the man he was going to see was the greatest of all.


He knocked on the door of the office of his fellow writer before being called in to enter. The elderly man behind the desk was not only his superior but also a living legend. De Gaulle had gained a certain amount of acclaim due to his work against the German counter-insurgency in Germany, enough to get him an esteemed role within the college at least, but his exploits paled in comparison to the man before him. Marechal Henri-Philippe Petain, the lion of Verdun, was a hero to millions of Frenchmen across the political divide even in these turbulent times.

Their relationship had gone back to the World War where de Gaulle had fought under Marechal Petain's command, their relationship had been a strong one ever since with some of de Gaulle’s colleagues even teasing him that the Marechal saw him as a protege. De Gaulle shrugged off such talk, he respected the Marechal and admired his sacrifices for France but he was his own man with his own theories on warfare, some of which the Marechal disagreed with vehemently.

Although de Gaulle did not hold Petain in quite the same esteem as some he still considered it an honour to collaborate with him. Their work would increase the clout of those involved even further by having Petain’s name attached and in that way de Gaulle could use the Marechal’s own reputation to keep the French army up to date with the latest technology and theory. Even if Petain himself didn’t realise the need for it.

The old man was growling at the morning’s papers from his desk and merely waved a hand at de Gaulle to sit down as he entered.

“This business with Austria is making me fear the worst about the future of the nation.” The Marechal finally said, handing the paper over to de Gaulle. It was the paper of Action Francaise, the reactionary monarchists who had been spouting right-wing extremism even before the word ‘fascism’ had entered the popular vocabulary. De Gaulle held right-wing views of his own but considered the group to be as radical as the Bolsheviks they claimed to oppose. Their paper full of conspiracy theories and gossip, this edition was no exception with vitriolic rhetoric denouncing the French Prime Minister as a German spy. Petain seemed to have gained an increased interest in such groups that could be described as unhealthy. Then again, the trifles of an old man weren’t his concern, especially one who had earned a right to flights of fancy more than most.

“It is an alarming situation Marechal although calling Laval a German agent seems to be an exaggeration.”

“Then why is he in Berlin right now with their foreign minister? Doesn’t that stink of something?”

It was hard not to empathise with the Marechel’s anxiety. It was a time of heightened international tensions involving the old enemy. The previous weeks had brought news of yet another German crisis, first a right-wing coup against Austria’s socialist government, then an Italian attempt to invade Austria in support of the coup and then the German army marching in to assist the Austrians. The League of Nations had managed to mediate a ceasefire before the clash had escalated further but the Germans and Italians were still out for blood, even if they had stopped shooting at each other for the moment. It did seem that Laval could be taking a firmer line against the Germans than he was but he had been an effective peacemaker in the past and it would be wrong to suspect him of anything more sinister all of a sudden.

“I would hope he is there reminding the Germans that their army entering Austria is a threat to our own security, not to mention that of Europe.”

“The Germans are able to get away with anything nowadays, the Versailles Treaty was supposed to ensure our security but as with every such document it has been allowed to be ignored until it is basically worthless.”

“Of course there are no such restrictions on ourselves,” de Gaulle mused, “but the politicians act as if there are in an attempt to please the English and perhaps even the Germans.”

Petain nodded vigorously, it was comforting to the Colonel to get him on the same page.

“Our government changes every other day. How are we meant to deal with the boche with such chaos?”

It was becoming a running joke that a man could fall asleep in the chamber of deputies only to wake up and find that he had been prime minister. Laval was doing better than most due to his government lasting for more than six months.

“Indeed, particularly when our own military thinkers are still resistant to new concepts.” De Gaulle answered with a sly smile.

Petain shot him a coy look. The Marechal wouldn’t let himself get caught out it seemed.

“I see much of myself in you Colonel, particularly the impetuousness I had as a young man!”

De Gaulle raised his hands disarmingly, he could work on the old man yet.

“If we had someone like Foch in charge this wouldn’t be occurring. Or you, Marechal.” It paid to play to the man’s vanity and de Gaulle couldn’t help but wonder whether he would ever be indulged like this. One day perhaps, if he could secure that French military dominance went on into the future. In the meantime it was important to get men who had influence on such policy on board. He was aware the right-wing groups Petain expressed an interest in were courting him in a similar way, keen to have him as the leader of their movement. De Gaulle was confident the Marechal was not going to put his reputation on the line for such men however, even if the old man believed they had interesting ideas. His, at least, were rational.

“I am too old to think about a political career at this juncture!” Petain scoffed mockingly and chuckled to himself before looking back upon the newspaper.

“But if called upon, I might at least be able to put the boche in their place.”

It sounded as if Marechal was talking to no-one in particular and de Gaulle was wary of commenting one way or the other.

“In the meantime, let us return to our book.” Petain muttered, changing the subject.


The Colonel sighed with relief that the awkward moment had passed. At least until the next time. He would continue to press the need for his theories, even if indulging the old man came with the risk of entertaining his fantasies.



The two officers returned to their work, from discussion of a new chapter of French history to those that preceded it.



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The painting is Untitled by John Christoforou