Chapter Twelve: Misfortunes Can Also Turn into Blessings

General Delagon paused for a moment, then shook his head with a bitter smile. “The idea is indeed good, but if we were to put it into practice...”

“The difficulty would be immense. It would have been ideal if it could have been done during the First World War—even if it meant exchanging the Rhineland at the time. Back then, there was no interference from the United States.”

Coman knew well that although Sardinia lacked resources and products, its location was extremely important. Even now, with the French occupying it, annexing the island would be extremely challenging. Neither Britain nor America would agree, as this concerned control over the western Mediterranean.

Even if annexation was off the table, since Corsica’s sovereignty was French, France naturally held influence over the western Mediterranean. If Sardinia were also annexed, that influence would become unassailable.

Coman shifted his gaze away from Corsica and looked toward the French-Italian border, asking, “Is there a French-speaking area there?”

“Valle d’Aosta is a French-speaking region,” General Delagon responded, pointing to northwest Italy.

“Then we must annex this area,” Coman answered decisively. “We need to create a fait accompli before the world war ends. Our troops will relocate all Italian-speaking residents, then hold a referendum to seal the outcome. The area isn’t large, so it shouldn’t provoke a fierce reaction from those two suspicious allies. And then there’s the Saar region in Germany.”

Coman pointed toward the Franco-German border. France’s agricultural conditions were naturally excellent, among the best in Europe, but what about raw materials for industrial development? Even in the twenty-first century, France maintained some influence in Africa. Without that, France’s domestic resources alone would hardly compare to Germany’s superior industrial base.

Compared to the Saar region, Valle d’Aosta was easier to handle. In Coman’s memory, though Italy had shown its allegiance in World War II, it had not escaped without territorial losses.

After the war, Yugoslavia did not respect America’s wishes and refused to return land to Italy, clearly showing that American influence was mainly effective in Western Europe.

The lands occupied by Yugoslavia included most of the Istrian Peninsula (except for Trieste), Zadar and some islands in Dalmatia—about five thousand square kilometers in total.

In comparison, Valle d’Aosta, with its French-speaking population, spanned just over three thousand square kilometers and had only about one hundred thousand inhabitants—quite manageable. Could France really be less capable than Yugoslavia?

“Valle d’Aosta, Sardinia, and the Saar region?” General Delagon swept his gaze over the three areas and weighed his options. “If we can secure two of these, it would be a great gain...”

“But if we try to push all three at once, we’ll raise the roof and someone will open the door to confront us,” Coman added. “The Saar region is actually easier to resolve. Once Germany is defeated, it will face hostility from all over Europe. We start by occupying the Saar, then relocate the population. We cannot allow Germans to remain there; population replacement is the way to swap out the Saar’s residents.”

Coman recalled the Saar referendum, where a third of the population favored joining France, though over sixty percent wished to return to the Federal Republic of Germany.

This showed that France was not without foundation. If purposefully cultivated, it was not impossible to carve the Saar out of Germany.

After discussing postwar territorial issues, father and son exchanged stories about their daily lives over the past year since General Delagon left Syria. Coman mainly inquired about the current war situation. Being in Syria, where communications were poor, he mostly relied on conjecture and couldn’t keep pestering General Fontan for updates—some discretion was necessary.

After waiting for a while, General Delagon, facing Coman’s complete disregard for his personal affairs, took the initiative. “You’ve seen Adélaïde’s situation. I admit I have...”

“Made the kind of mistake any man would,” Coman interjected, defending his surrogate father. “It’s not infidelity within marriage—these things are hard to judge. Commo seems a bit upset; I’ll talk to him.”

Coman’s younger brother was just ten years old now, and two years ago, it was perfectly normal for him to harbor resentment toward the woman who disrupted their family.

At this point, Coman suddenly realized he had been chatting quite a while with General Delagon in the study. He suggested his father take a break and opened the door, where Commo was still standing, a hint of defiance on his face.

“Want to go for a walk?” Coman offered, looking down on his brother from above. “I’ll give you one chance.”

“B—” Coman abruptly paused, as if recalling a correction, then said, “Brother, I’ll go with you.”

Coman nodded; that was good. Actually, getting along wasn’t so difficult. The destination didn’t matter. After a year apart, they could finally speak. From Commo’s perspective, it was understandable. Their father, a soldier, was no genius commander. In fact, by now General Delagon had been at war for a year, performing averagely.

The Allies found him easy to communicate and cooperate with, though he lacked notable achievements. Italy was no great adversary, so Delagon’s military record was unremarkable.

Yet even so, it was enough to justify his rank of general. He hadn’t won many battles, but he hadn’t lost many either.

Coman thought that was fine. The British’s famed Desert Fox, Montgomery, had an average record and hardly belonged among the Soviet and German marshals. If Montgomery got by, why not his father?

Even as an average soldier, Delagon commanded France’s First Army Group and naturally had little time for Commo. Commo often saw Adélaïde, and with Coman away, the ten-year-old was bound to be affected.

The brothers walked one ahead, one behind. Commo followed his older brother, knowing Coman had a habit of positioning himself either facing or with his back to the sun. The origin of this habit was unknown, but Commo found it bold. The sunlight spread like melted butter over ancient stone buildings, surrounding the small bay with powder-fine white sand and emerald waters.

“The scenery here is nice,” Coman said, settling onto a suitably sized stone. He gestured to an empty spot beside him for his brother to sit. After a moment of gazing into the distance, he asked, “Still arguing with Adélaïde?”

“Brother, that woman isn’t one of us,” Commo muttered, opening his mouth. “I can’t accept her. I want Mother.”

“You mean I don’t want Mother?” Coman comforted his downcast brother. “In theory, we all hope to spend our lives with one person, but fate does not bend to our wishes. No matter what, with Adélaïde’s situation now, we’ll have a brother or sister coming. That’s still Father’s child.”

“If this brother or sister is born, will Father then favor her and her children over us?” Commo asked seriously.

“No,” Coman smiled wryly, looking up at the sky. Indeed, this was a world at war, not a novel for women. “If I weren’t here, you, a ten-year-old, might have a hard life, clashing with a young stepmother and her children, which could seriously damage the family. But you have me. By the time her child is born, I’ll be eighteen. When her child comes of age, I’ll be in my prime. There won’t be any of those ridiculous melodramas.”

“I was wrong, brother. You will definitely solve this,” Commo said, lowering his head. “Father trusts you the most. You’ve been the pride of the family since childhood—already literate before you could walk.”

Still alive for another moment, huh? Coman suddenly wondered if he should take a ruthless stance for the greater good. If he didn’t show outstanding character and intelligence, could he really communicate effectively with General Delagon? Without Coman, would Delagon have aligned with Vichy France and produced this family?

“I’ll stay on Sardinia for two days,” Coman stretched and said contentedly, “once supplies are ready, I’ll head back to the mainland. The vibrant world awaits my conquest.”

Family matters were indeed complicated, but not unsolvable. Commo simply lacked the maturity to see it clearly.

During his two days on Sardinia, Coman accompanied General Delagon in a display of filial piety. The general asked his purpose.

“After returning, what do you plan to do?” he inquired.

“Our youth division is bluntly called the ‘Supervision Corps,’” Coman did not hide his thoughts. “Over time, any country develops class rigidity, as the Soviets said. Losing the homeland is a tragedy, but if we can recover something from it, we can turn it to our advantage. Purging traitors can also become a movement to break class ossification.”