I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 30: After modification - The Heart’s Desire

They replaced Matthew’s bandages with new ones and administered a shot of morphine. They also assigned a nurse to be on call at all times.

In exchange, Dr. Hebra gave Shire a long list of supplies and personnel needed at the field hospital:

The supplies included tents, beds, blankets, bandages, medical cotton, tourniquets, hemostatic powder, morphine, etc.

In addition to doctors and nurses, they also needed cleaners, caregivers, cooks, helpers...

Staring at the list, Shire finally understood why the field hospital was on the verge of collapse — they were almost working with a hundred-pound stone suspended by a hair.

Shire assigned Joseph to purchase supplies in Paris, while Dejoka volunteered to organize the personnel.

Although Joseph was reluctant to leave Matthew’s side, the thought that these supplies were equally urgent for Matthew made him agree without hesitation.

"Don’t worry, Young Master Shire!" Joseph said. "I promise I’ll bring all these supplies back, every single one!"

Dejoka gave Joseph a check for a hundred thousand francs, instructing, "You can take my car. If the money is not enough, come back for more!"

"Thank you, Mr. Dejoka, much appreciated!" Joseph accepted the check with both hands, gratitude filling his eyes. He lightly touched his hat in greeting to both Dejoka and Shire before gently patting Matthew’s pale hand on the bed.

"Don’t worry, Father!" Matthew reassured. "I’ll be fine. Shire will be with me!"

Joseph nodded before leading two men to the Ford car.

"Wait up!" Dejoka ran after them. "Take me to the town first. I need to gather some people!"

Once the tent was left with only Matthew and Shire, Matthew let out a long sigh, his smile vanishing instantaneously, replaced by pallor and weakness: "I know they amputated my leg, Shire!"

With Shire, Matthew could finally drop his facade completely.

Shire was somewhat surprised. Joseph had kept this from Matthew, fearing he wouldn’t be able to handle the reality.

Matthew chuckled softly, "Of course I know, Shire. It’s my leg. I can’t feel it anymore!"

"So, you’ve been pretending?" Shire asked. "To ease your father’s worries?"

Matthew didn’t answer, his eyes empty yet tinged with desolation. "Sometimes I wonder if it would’ve been better if I had died on the battlefield..."

"Is that what you think?" Shire looked at Matthew in anger. "You’re giving up so easily?"

Matthew gave a bitter smile, his gaze toward Shire filled with contempt:

"You capitalists will never understand us poor people!"

"Do you know what they gave in exchange for my leg? 130 francs, Shire. They bought my leg for 130 francs!"

Matthew was referring to the compensation. France gave 260 francs to deceased soldiers’ families, halved for the disabled.

"What good is 130 francs?" Matthew continued. "Frugally, it might last two years, but after that?"

Shire realized that Matthew was calculating the economics; he was thinking of his father and family’s livelihood. In this regard, death seemed better than disability. Death brought more money and no ’aftereffects,’ while disability meant lesser money and continuous troubles.

"Matthew..."

"No!" Matthew stopped Shire with an angry glare. "I don’t need it, Shire!"

He seemed to know what Shire was about to say: "Come on, Matthew. Work at my factory. I’ll give you a job!"

He didn’t want anyone’s pity, even if it was Shire.

Shire didn’t say it.

He moved a stool and sat by Matthew’s bed, expressionless: "I won’t pity you, Matthew! I despise you!"

"What?" Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Shire told him the truth: "I asked Dr. Hebra. Your leg didn’t have to be amputated. It’s because of personnel shortages. They had to save time to treat other patients..."

"What?" Matthew looked at Shire, incredulous: "They amputated my leg just because of that?"

For the doctors, it was saving a bit of time, but for Matthew, it was a lifetime.

Shire didn’t pay attention to Matthew’s expression, continuing:

"Do you know who put you in this situation?"

"Those capitalists who are reluctant to spend money on the field hospital. If there were more doctors, more medicine, or more personnel, your leg wouldn’t have ended up like this!"

Shire heightened his tone:

"They ruined your life, and you’re only thinking about how you’ll live on 130 francs!"

"You want my pity, my sympathy?"

"No, Matthew! I despise you!"

"They defeated you effortlessly, completely!"

Matthew clenched his teeth, cold sweat forming on his forehead. "But what can I do..."

"Stand up!" Shire interrupted him, his tone firm: "Fight them, seek justice, make them pay!"

Matthew gasped for air, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing, large beads of sweat dripping down his pale face.

He looked miserable, but the lifeless eyes began to twinkle with light, sparks at first, then shining brighter and brighter.

Perceiving the commotion behind him, Shire turned around in confusion, finding a crowd of nurses and injured men gathered outside the tent, including Dr. Hebra.

The tent wasn’t soundproof; Shire’s words had spread and passed through the injured like wildfire. They stood up despite their pains and gathered around Shire:

"Young Master Shire is right! They can’t treat us like this. They send us to fight, yet won’t give us basic medical care!"

"They’re still enjoying life, squandering money earned by exploiting us, reveling under our protection!"

"We’ve had enough! Young Master Shire, lead us to seek justice from those capitalists!"

"Yes, you’re a conscientious capitalist. We’re willing to follow you!"

...

Shire was startled. His earlier words were meant to inspire Matthew’s will to fight, not to incite the injured to rebellion.

This could be considered a mutiny. The capitalists would soon mobilize the troops to suppress them, as had happened often in this era!

Given their strength, it would be almost suicidal.

Shire hurriedly waved his hand and said:

"Listen to me, gentlemen!"

"The priority now is to recover. Only by becoming strong can we continue to fight the enemy!"

"We mustn’t act rashly, or we’ll only harm ourselves!"

...

The injured fell silent, knowing Shire was right.

However, they knew many of them would soon be homeless or starve because of their poverty. What fight could they muster?

Shire seemed to read their thoughts, adding:

"Coincidentally, I bought a motorcycle factory. The workers are almost all gone. If you are willing, you can work at my factory in the future!"

The wounded were both surprised and delighted but also worried:

"But many of us are missing limbs..."

"Don’t worry!" Shire said. "I’ll find suitable positions for you. Trust me, you are heroes of France, and you deserve better treatment!"

The injured burst into tears and pain, saluting Shire. In their eyes, Young Master Shire was their savior, including Matthew. The doctors and nurses were also moved to tears.

Only Shire knew that his actions were for more than just Matthew or the injured.

No one understood the importance of winning over people better than Shire. It was key to the fight against the capitalists!

And winning people’s hearts was cheapest and most effective through "timely help" rather than "adding flowers to the brocade"!