Father of France

Chapter 40 The vote counters decide everything

Being constantly watched, Transylvanian had no choice but to sign the referendum documents. Now that the entire Aosta was under French control, his pitiful loyalty to Italy was insufficient to support any display of patriotism.

“Very good, you are indeed reliable.” Koman looked at Trenn with satisfaction. “You need to find the right problem, the key problem.”

Koeman and Trenlin were simply collaborators between the occupying forces and Germany. If Vichy France could find so many collaborators with Germany, what difficulty would it be for Aosta to find people who collaborated with France, especially since this was originally a French-speaking region?

As they walked out of the city hall, Koman looked up and found the azure sky so pleasing to the eye. It was then that Bokassa said, "Sir, everything you did just now was so cool."

Koman extended his hand, speaking with an air of confidence, "Bokassa, you'll be just as handsome someday. Understand, in Africa, it's crucial to maintain firm control of the military. This aligns perfectly with African tradition; both ideals and realities require the support of the army. By the way, who do you admire most?"

Power manifests itself in many forms, but in Africa, military power is clearly the most important. Koman remembered that Bokassa had been an emperor, and he didn't mind giving him a little pointer.

Moreover, considering the broader context in Africa, military governments are not necessarily such a backward system. In a place that is extremely poor, is it really necessary to have one person, one vote?

"The person I admire most is, of course, the great Napoleon." Although his admiration for Koeman had just arisen, it hadn't yet seeped into his very bones, and Bokassa still revealed his true feelings.

"Then go and pursue your dreams, and of course, survive this war." Koman's smile was very gentle, and his tone was encouraging.

He now needs to report to his direct superior, Battalion Commander Celt. Koeman, with his big mouth, has only given three days, which is indeed very rushed. Maintaining order in the Austa referendum also requires the battalion commander's help.

Celt listened carefully to the whole story, his face showing a confident expression, but he didn't really take it to heart. However, that didn't stop him from drawing a conclusion: "Is this guy named Trenning reliable?"

“We’ve already spoken with Trenlin, and he’s a patriot,” Koeman replied solemnly. “French is the language of the place, and we can’t forget the despicable act of Italy stabbing us in the back in 1940. We welcome Italians to come for tourism, but immigration is not an option.”

After leaving Celt, Martin had just finished writing the proclamation to recruit soldiers and police, which was basically to say, to establish a puppet army, and he planned to post it at various intersections in Aosta the next day.

"I wonder how Alan is doing in Paris. He must be living a more comfortable life than we are."

Martin lamented to himself that things were only passable in Austal because French was spoken. If they ventured further in, given it was wartime, they would inevitably face harsh conditions and sleeping outdoors.

"You two don't have an inappropriate relationship, do you?" Koeman reached for the Damascus steel knife at his waist, looking at Martin warily, as if trying to analyze the specifics. "The operations of the Youth Division in Paris also need someone to follow up. Many things cannot be completed in one or two months. We feel at ease with him following along."

Whether it's the national blood bank program, or the purge of traitors and cultural cleansing, these are not tasks that can be decided today and done with tomorrow; someone always has to keep an eye on them.

We can't let Admiral Dragon keep an eye on things. The war isn't over yet, and we're distracted by this work that's clearly in the security field. What will people think if they find out?
Martin only complained about the hardship and lamented his work of recruiting puppet troops. After asking Coman about his purpose in going to the city hall, he said helplessly, "I know my opinion is not important, but I also think it's too hasty."

“You don’t understand, the sooner the better.” Koeman only said this, without explaining why. He just felt that things needed to be settled as quickly as possible. It was essential to create a fait accompli as soon as possible. He felt that the window of opportunity for a referendum was very short. Although the battle was still ongoing, they might stop at any time, and then things would be much more difficult.

Aosta was a small city, only a few blocks in size. By the time the sun rose the next day, the residents of Aosta had already noticed the referendum notices posted at the corners of various streets. People were talking about it, and every now and then a few French soldiers walked by, but the talking residents ignored them and were obviously not offended.

In taverns and open fields, in any place where discussion could take place, people were talking about the referendum starting tomorrow. The discussions were peaceful, and it seemed that no one regarded it as a major event that would determine their future.

"Coleman, what preparations have you made?" Martin, looking uncertain before tomorrow's referendum, asked his comrade if he was fully prepared.

“Not at all.” Koman told the truth. If the Sal district were to face such a referendum, it would definitely be a good time to show off one’s skills in the Dao of Keys, but in this small and sparsely populated Austa, there is no need at all.

Whatever the result, it's the result Koeman wants. As Stalin said, voters can't decide anything; the vote counters decide everything.

The day of the referendum was another beautiful day, but it was already late October, and given the high altitude, although the morning sun was shining brightly, there was still a chill in the air.

This was a joyous day. Koman and his comrades from the Youth Division did their best to liven up the atmosphere, encouraging the long lines of voters, shouting slogans to cheer them on, and yelling at the voters scattered across several blocks, "If we can't elect a future that satisfies everyone's wishes today, then we'll keep voting..."

Koeman's eagle-like eyes were fixed on a polling station, and he could hear the shouts all around him. Every time the vote counter announced the merger with France, it was met with applause and cheers.

Voting began in the morning and the counting ended in the evening. Ninety-nine percent of Aosta's residents supported their hometown becoming part of France.

The entire city of Aosta became a sea of ​​joy, with people celebrating loudly and expressing their delight at the referendum result.

“The one percent who are unwilling, once all the population of the other Italian-speaking settlements in Valle d'Aosta have been swept out, will be escorted directly from Marseille to North Africa,” Koeman instructed Martin after hearing the report.

"It's only one percent, it can't determine the overall situation." Martin looked incredulous, wondering if this standard was a bit too strict.

“Ninety-nine percent isn’t enough, I want one hundred percent.” Coleman blurted out Rockefeller’s famous quote, “Find any place where you can catch the mistake. North Africa needs immigrants. Just say that people from other settlements have followed the Germans.”

Aosta's residents only make up one-third of Valle d'Aosta's population; the rest don't live in Aosta. Strictly speaking, the referendum result was wrong, but... why not just deny the existence of the Italian-speaking population?
The action had to be decisive and swift. Wherever that tiny one percent of Axis remnants were hiding, they were immediately discovered by the soldiers of the Youth Division, thanks to reports from patriotic individuals.

While the historic referendum took place in Valle d'Aosta, Turin was engulfed in smoke. Streets were blocked by wrecked armored vehicles, thick smoke billowed from broken windows, and sporadic gunshots rang out, occasionally punctuated by the echoes of explosions. A man with a weapon fired a shot, the bullet piercing the throat of an enemy soldier, blood splattering on the walls as the soldier slowly lost color in his eyes.

The Italian Liberation Army launched an armed uprising in Turin, and in coordination with the Allied offensive, launched a general offensive against the German-Italian forces within the country...

(End of this chapter)