Father of France

Chapter 204 Conspiracy Theories and Debunking
The Vietnamese National Army marched on the flank of the column. He was more adapted to the climate than his European counterparts. The column was long, but its size eliminated the possibility of being ambushed by unidentified armed groups.

As evening fell, the troops established a defensive perimeter on a relatively gentle ridge. Exhausted, the soldiers silently ate their rations and inspected their weapons, which were corroded by the dampness. Below, the vast jungle was shrouded in twilight, occasionally punctuated by the cries of unknown birds and beasts, drowning out the daytime clamor.

Koman pulled out a mosquito net, giving Martin a slight shock, but then he became angry, pointing at Koman and shouting, "We're all comrades, why didn't you say anything?"

“We didn’t initially consider the troops in Africa. As for this kind of thing, it’s a local product of French Indochina,” Koeman explained casually. How long had he been preparing for this promotion? A mere mosquito net was nothing to him, and Martin’s situation was completely unexpected.

Living in a mountain range full of trees and dense forests in May is indeed a huge challenge. Fortunately, Corman was not stingy when he was arming the Catholics in Saigon. Even if France was in dire straits, it would not skimp on the money for a mosquito net. This came in handy.

The expeditionary forces in Algeria and Senegal had no choice but to endure the hardship, which was extremely detrimental to unity. After emergency communication among the commanders of each unit, they managed to share half of their mosquito nets so that two people could squeeze together and get through the first night of the march.

Upon reaching the Central Heights, the French expeditionary force will be able to launch attacks on the rebels on the east coast from a superior position. Except for the initial difficulties of the landing, choosing to land in Manda Bay in the northwest is entirely advantageous.

If they land on the east coast, they will face an initial landing battle, and later they may also face the possibility that the rebels will hide in the central plateau and wage guerrilla warfare against the French.

However, advancing from the west coast to the Central Heights would not present any such problem. Once they reached the Central Heights, the only space left for the rebels to penetrate was the vast Indian Ocean.

Koeman has reason to believe that this military operation will take much longer than in another world, and will not take more than a year to quell the riots in Madagascar.

After entering the Central Plateau, villages, rice paddies, and terraced fields belonging to the Austronesian people begin to appear, becoming more and more common as you get closer to the capital, Antananarivo, and the road conditions also improve significantly.

The outline of Antananarivo, a rare highland capital, came into view of the expeditionary force. From a distance, the city looked like a huge stepped theater, with layers of red tiled roofs and mottled walls stretching from the valley to the ridge.

The city's many alleyways were narrow and steep, made of stone steps, which made it difficult for the residents to welcome the large expeditionary force.

Because of the fierce rebels on the east coast, the French garrison in the capital Antananarivo was on high alert. Only when they saw the arrival of the expeditionary force's reinforcements did the garrison and the expatriates, including Governor Paul Audi, truly feel relieved.

The roadblocks that had formed a hedgehog-like barrier leading to the city had been cleared to the sides, revealing the haggard and wary faces of the defending soldiers behind the sandbag fortifications.

Their uniforms were more worn than those of the expeditionary force, and their faces bore the deep weariness left by a long siege and continuous small-scale conflicts. When they saw the reinforcements that had come all the way from the coastline, a near-collapse of relief and excitement finally blossomed on their tense faces.

The expeditionary force of nearly 40,000 men arrived in the capital and joined up with the garrison. The soldiers' uniforms were torn to shreds by the jungle, their faces were covered in mud, and their eyes were tired from the long march. But the joy on their faces was still obvious. At least they had entered the city and no longer had to live like savages in the mountains.

During the process of arranging the garrison areas, many people shook hands with the soldiers, exchanged their last cigarettes and drinking water, and communicated information in short, hoarse words.

The two armies were thus merged into one. Governor Paul Audi and the expeditionary force commander Padua met at the governor's palace. Paul Audi said apologetically, "I'm sorry, I don't have much to offer you. You've worked hard to get to Antananarivo so quickly."

“The Paris side is very concerned about the situation in Madagascar.” Major General Padova did not mince words. “The naval fleet has other missions. The General Staff’s plan is for us to try to compress the rioters to the east coast and then launch a devastating attack on the rioters in the narrow strip of the east coast from both land and sea.”

“A very clean and decisive approach.” Paul Audi immediately expressed his approval. “The East Coast mob consists of the Betsimsalacans, the second largest ethnic group in Madagascar, who were formed from the black slaves brought to Madagascar by Arabs. Most of the East Coast is their home.”

"The opinion of the military police headquarters is to win over the yellow-skinned people of the highlands and crack down on the black people of the East Coast."

Major General Padua was not a local garrison soldier, and his knowledge of Madagascar was limited to racial differences. Therefore, he didn't even use terms like Austronesian or Bantu, instead focusing on ethnicity. Paul Audi didn't correct him, as the upcoming military operations depended on him. The French forces in Madagascar numbered only 5,000, and after the uprising, they could only retreat to the capital, Antananarivo, awaiting support from the expeditionary force.

Meanwhile, in the camp where the expeditionary force was being housed, fires were being lit and cooking was underway. The fatigue from the long march was somewhat relieved. The cooks, carrying their cooking pots, used local staple foods and wielded shovels to make pot after pot of fried rice.

"Finally, it's not fried noodles anymore. I don't know where you learned this from." After several days of being poisoned by fried noodles, Martin is no longer averse to fried rice; on the contrary, he is looking forward to it.

Unlike Coman, who was holding chopsticks, and the Vietnamese soldiers, Martin was a little caught off guard by this staple food. Fortunately, he didn't try to eat it directly like the South Asians. If he couldn't use a knife and fork, could he at least use a spoon? While eating, he mumbled a question, "You've made a lot of preparations for this expedition, as if you knew all along. You even brought so many chefs who are good at cooking local food. I would believe you if you said you were the governor of Saigon."

“Even eating can’t shut you up.” Koman endured his comrade’s incessant chatter, swallowed his fried rice, and said, “Nothing comes for free. The expeditionary force was able to get many of its supplies because I sold the land on the east coast. The wealthy Chinese in Saigon believed my promise, which is why they purchased supplies and sent cargo ships to help transport them.”

The east coast of Madagascar is inhabited by the Betsimisaraca, the second largest ethnic group. Their traditional territory stretches along the east coast from the Manakara region in the south to the Antongil Bay in the north. The most important city is Tuamasina, Madagascar's main port.

The Betsimesalacan people's eastern coastal territory had already been pre-allocated by Coman to a large Chinese family in Saigon. After the war, a rice trading center would be established in Tuamasina, Madagascar's largest port. As for the so-called second largest ethnic group in Madagascar, let's see how much is left. Even if some is left, the land on the east coast will be confiscated and redistributed.

“A portion of the Bantu territory will be used to win over the Austronesians, hoping to get this largest ethnic group on our side during negotiations in the capital,” Koman said wearily, taking a sip from his water bottle.

Koeman was also unfamiliar with the division of Madagascar's eighteen ethnic groups. He was slightly better than Major General Padua, but still only to a limited extent. He simply divided the local ethnic groups into Austronesian people and Bantu people, and as for the black people on the west coast who did not participate, they were also Bantu people.

“That would mean all the Bantu people on the East Coast…” Martin gestured with a spoon in front of his neck, then whispered, “Only unclaimed land can be allocated according to your plan. So this military operation will face considerable resistance. Should we wipe them all out, or…?”

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Koman replied, pointing to the wheels of a military vehicle fifty meters away. “Excluding women, any man taller than the wheels was within the scope of the operation. When explaining to the higher-ups, we said that the Bantu people showed a determination to fight to the death, and that they would never surrender, even if it meant fighting to the very end. They deserve our respect.”

Shouldn't the Bantu people thank you? Is it appropriate to point at someone's corpse and express reverence?

Martin finished his fried rice, took out the kettle and took two sips of water. "You're not the same as you were in Paris."

"These are all very merciful solutions. Aren't they much more merciful than the final solution? Even without the final solution, if I just sent all the Bantu women on the east coast to their deaths, the locals would be wiped out. On the contrary, I chose the most merciful way to deal with it."

Koman stood up and handed the metal lunchbox to the Chinese chef, not forgetting to express his gratitude, "Thank you for your hard work. You've come all the way from the embankment to thousands of miles away from us. The success of the military operation is also thanks to you."

Starting the next day, a rumor began circulating in the capital, Antananarivo. The Vietnamese National Army soldiers stationed there were shocked to discover that the language of the Merina people living in the highlands was strikingly similar to that of the Malays in Southeast Asia.

This kind of talk is being spread by Koman... using the mouths of Vietnamese people. He's been immersed in online discussions for many years, experienced countless battles, and has seen it all. Without ethnic conflict, there will inevitably be racial conflict; without racial conflict, there will be regional conflict; without regional conflict, there will be language conflict; and without language conflict, there will be religious conflict.

Aside from the possibility that class conflict could escalate into resistance against French colonialism, what else could he not mention? According to the Vietnamese, the Merina people of the highlands are Austronesian and related to the Malays of Southeast Asia, which explains their significant physical differences from Black people.

When these rumors spread like wildfire and became a hot topic, the French gendarmerie directly arrested a group of people from Merine who were spreading the rumors, and began to seriously refute them, saying that these rumors were unfounded.

(End of this chapter)