Chapter Eighteen: Let Me Add a Little More

Henry Frenet was not very old, but he was exactly ten years old when the White Feather Movement erupted. When Coman mentioned that ten-year-old French boys could go to the battlefield and even five-year-olds could contribute to the war effort, Henry immediately understood the meaning behind the warrant officer’s words and smiled wryly. “You haven’t experienced the White Feather Movement yourself, yet you know about these things.”

“I have a relative with a good standing who enlisted because of the White Feather Movement. General Fonten of the French forces in Syria has discussed similar issues with me in detail.”

Coman invoked General Fonten, the current commander of the French forces in Syria, to bolster the credibility of his words.

Upon hearing this, Henry Frenet furrowed his brow slightly. Fonten held a high position as the commander of the French forces in a colony. If a colonial military commander viewed matters this way, then the problem was far more serious than a mere brush-off. He retorted, “It seems a considerable number of soldiers are deeply concerned about their postwar treatment, which is understandable.”

“Respectful Secretary-General, please do not misunderstand,” Coman replied politely, still maintaining a respectful tone. “If by ‘treatment’ you mean pensions or similar benefits, that is not the true intention of patriots fighting for their country. Money can solve many problems, perhaps most of them, but there are some issues that money simply cannot resolve.”

The world war alone had summoned seven to eight hundred thousand troops from Syria and African colonies. How much money would remain if it all had to be handed out to every soldier? If all the funds were distributed, it would be tantamount to giving nothing at all. If simply handing out money could inspire patriots to enthusiastically enlist, the problem would be much simpler.

Seeing Henry Frenet’s eager expression, Coman continued, “A great society with cohesion is surely composed of cohesive families. Only such a great society can produce true unity in the face of external threats. However, it seems that contemporary French society lacks this cohesion.”

This was a critique of the nation and society itself. Henry Frenet was about to retort, but Coman, seemingly oblivious to the reaction, pressed on, “A patriot willingly answers the nation’s call, joining a life-or-death war, bearing the risks born of international conflict. Should the state not do something to guarantee the welfare of these patriots?”

This was a novel perspective. Henry Frenet pondered for a moment before asking, “So, what kind of guarantees does the military side advocate?”

“The First Army Group proposes legislation to protect military marriages.”

At this moment, Coman represented the four hundred thousand troops of the First Army Group. Although he was merely a warrant officer, it mattered little; his father had risen from major to general, granting him the standing to speak on this matter. “I believe once this legislation is enacted, support will come not only from the First Army Group but from all of France and its political entities—whether from the mainland, Asia, Africa, the Malraux faction or others. All will welcome it.”

In fact, most countries did not offer protections for military marriages. While other nations were irrelevant to Coman, France was different: the current welfare for French soldiers focused mainly on spousal benefits and medical care, which he deemed insufficient.

He then proposed several recommendations to safeguard military marriages: for active soldiers, their spouses must obtain the soldier’s consent before seeking a divorce.

“Including reservists,” Coman emphasized to Henry Frenet. Were it not too unreasonable, he would even include veterans, but there had to be limits.

Such a provision would be added only unless France established a military government.

Though during the Algerian War, with the French military at its peak, the Fourth Republic’s later years did show some characteristics of a military government—De Gaulle was even labeled a dictator by the Americans—it was never truly a military regime.

Ensuring soldiers’ combat effectiveness has always been a challenge for all nations. The collapse of the American draft system was closely tied to the Vietnam War, a period when American society itself began to unravel. Ironically, Lyndon Johnson, who escalated the Vietnam War, campaigned on the promise of a great society.

Yet when American soldiers returned from Vietnam with their discharge pay only to be divorced by their wives, Johnson’s great society dissolved.

Before the Vietnam War ended, the United States had already shifted from conscription to an all-volunteer force.

“Protecting soldiers’ rights is certainly good, but...” Henry Frenet hesitated, considering a major issue that might be affected.

Unaware of his hesitation, Coman candidly stated, “My views on military marriage aren’t purely my own. In fact, some units will soon publicly call for this, so I’m here to reveal these impending changes in advance.”

Would units publicly demand this? Not yet, but very soon. He was seeking the support of civilian officials, not trying to make it seem like coercion.

Though Paris had been liberated, the war must remain the primary focus. Despite some hesitation, Henry Frenet did not deliberate long before nodding, “The military’s call will surely be supported by all sectors of France. Strengthening social cohesion is indeed a good thing.”

Hearing Henry Frenet’s acceptance, Coman breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to stand, only to hear a resigned murmur, “Currently, there’s discussion about extending suffrage to women. Won’t that spark controversy?”

At that remark, just as Coman was about to rise and leave, he sat back down abruptly.

Indeed, if France did not limit women’s voting rights, some soldiers’ wives might express discontent. This was a nation proud of its progress—progressive enough that even ten-year-old boys could be sent to the front lines.

Henry Frenet noticed Coman’s repeated hesitation and returning gesture, a flicker of puzzlement crossing his face. “Is there something else?”

“I’ll add a bit more,” Coman said with conviction. “If we don’t fight for the rights of French men now and do not limit women’s suffrage, it will be too late once the war ends. The war continues, and given the harsh consequences of the homeland’s occupation, we must launch a counteroffensive into German territory. The bloodshed and sacrifice of frontline soldiers will inevitably require a large reserve of blood.”

“That is indeed something we must do,” Henry Frenet nodded solemnly. He fully understood this. Ensuring a sufficient blood supply for frontline soldiers was beyond debate.

“Therefore, we must mobilize society to build a blood bank. Everyone—men, women, young and old—must participate. Our Youth Corps can take charge of this task,” Coman volunteered. “Only in this way can we best meet the needs of soldiers at the front and reduce unnecessary casualties.”

Strictly speaking, the Youth Corps’ role was akin to military police or special forces; though nominally soldiers, ensuring soldiers’ safety was within their remit.

But this was not Coman’s true purpose. Western Europe, including France, had witnessed lynchings that humiliated women—not just France, but the phenomenon had indeed originated there.

Coman was firmly opposed to such humiliations and had his own plan. According to statistics, about twenty thousand French women had been subjected to such humiliation, but the number of children fathered by Germans during the occupation reached two hundred thousand—a glaring discrepancy.

It was clear that many French women had escaped such lynching. Coman intended to identify these women and their German children, using the need for blood reserves as a pretext. Although blood tests were less definitive than DNA, they were the only feasible method at present.

Hence, he sought control over the operation. With the authority to execute this, the cause would be publicly supported, and he could achieve his ulterior goal alongside fulfilling the official task.

“French men have every right to call me ‘father’ because of this,” Coman firmly believed in his own righteousness.