Vichy France
01-01-2005, 06:36
They were a minority, no doubt about it. They didn't deserve this land, and had done nothing to earn it, except what was happening now. However, it was obvious to see what was occuring. The Botswanan people were, in huge numbers, working for these Vichy French leaders. Through miracles of charisma, these men had been able to summon masses of africans to their aid.
-Gabarone, new years eve-
Jean Paul led 120 men behind him, down the biggest road of the city. A number of infantry platoons of mostly african infantrymen were all around the city, being led by Vichy French officers. They had been working here for months, trying to gain the respect and authority needed. And they had.
20,000 men roamed the city with weapons. Famas G2's, Sig 552's, and AK-47's proved to rule the city. The police either surrendured, joined the rebels, or, the minority, fought back. Five thousand were already dead, mostly loyalist forces.
Cesar Soubeyran stood on top of the capital building, laughing over a loudspeaker. He captivated the rebels, who numbered nearly 70,000 across the nation. He gave them promises of grandeur, said that vichy france would take Botswana to great heights.
Jean paul laughed too, as he went for a drink, along with two other french officers. Most of the africans would be shot, to make way for the French. Only the atheists would be let live, and only the ones without aids or HIV.
Vichy france was prepared, through non-stop shipments, to transplant nearly 100 million Frenchmen to botswana, once the natives were killed. It was a genius idea. Take their guns from them slowly, create token defense forces, then through genocide, destroy them. He, along with the other officers, would be rich, taking over the wealthiest estates that belonged to the wealthiest botswanese.
"Ils sont bete!" Yelled one of the drunk officers. "Vraiment, mon copain. Vraiment." Jean paul replied, as he watched the clock tick down to new years.
-Gabarone, new years eve-
Jean Paul led 120 men behind him, down the biggest road of the city. A number of infantry platoons of mostly african infantrymen were all around the city, being led by Vichy French officers. They had been working here for months, trying to gain the respect and authority needed. And they had.
20,000 men roamed the city with weapons. Famas G2's, Sig 552's, and AK-47's proved to rule the city. The police either surrendured, joined the rebels, or, the minority, fought back. Five thousand were already dead, mostly loyalist forces.
Cesar Soubeyran stood on top of the capital building, laughing over a loudspeaker. He captivated the rebels, who numbered nearly 70,000 across the nation. He gave them promises of grandeur, said that vichy france would take Botswana to great heights.
Jean paul laughed too, as he went for a drink, along with two other french officers. Most of the africans would be shot, to make way for the French. Only the atheists would be let live, and only the ones without aids or HIV.
Vichy france was prepared, through non-stop shipments, to transplant nearly 100 million Frenchmen to botswana, once the natives were killed. It was a genius idea. Take their guns from them slowly, create token defense forces, then through genocide, destroy them. He, along with the other officers, would be rich, taking over the wealthiest estates that belonged to the wealthiest botswanese.
"Ils sont bete!" Yelled one of the drunk officers. "Vraiment, mon copain. Vraiment." Jean paul replied, as he watched the clock tick down to new years.