Reborn South Africa as a police officer

Chapter 1270 Sound

I would rather be a dog of peace than a person in a troubled world.

Rwanda in Kamea, Portuguese West Africa, has recently gained a new understanding of this phrase.

It all started with the failure of the Allies to intervene in the new Russian government.

After the Allied Intervention Force disbanded and its members fell apart, Luanda and some of his comrades came to Portuguese West Africa to work as security guards on a plantation in Camea.

During the World War, Luanda became a precise shooter with his precise shooting. After coming to Portuguese West Africa, Luanda won the trust of his employer with his proficient English and successfully became the security director of the plantation.

Rwanda has 24 security personnel under his command. His plantation covers an area of ​​1500 hectares and employs [-] African workers.

Unlike southern Africa, where wages are never in arrears, African workers in Portuguese West Africa are not paid to work in plantations, and if they fail to complete their work tasks, they will be abused by plantation owners. In the past, these The African-American workers also endured, after all, they were powerless to resist.

It’s different now. After being tempered by the World War, Luanda’s fear of white people has disappeared. During the European War, he personally killed no less than a hundred white people. If it was replaced by white people or Chinese, it would at least be worth a hero. Medal, because Luanda is African, so Luanda only received a reward of 5 pounds.

"Today, there were more than a dozen workers who did not cut enough glue. Samson tied them up and said they would let dogs bite them. They have killed six people this week." Luanda sat in front of the dormitory. On the steps, surrounded by a few men, all of them looked gloomy.

In an open space not far away, another security supervisor, Samson, was instructing several white soldiers to tie a dozen Africans to tree stumps, while several ferocious hounds beside them couldn't wait.

The security personnel on the plantation were divided into two parts, one was retired soldiers led by Luanda, and the other was white security personnel led by Samson.

These white security personnel are actually Portuguese hooligans. They don't have much combat effectiveness, and they all rely on their white skins to earn a living on the plantation.

Samson is also white, and it is said that he is a relative of the plantation owner Alves. This guy has a bad habit. He likes to kill people for fun. He kills innocent people indiscriminately.

"What I asked you to do, how are you doing?" Luanda unconsciously biting a piece of grass in her mouth, her expression twisted, her eyes bloodshot.

"I contacted Kahama, and he wanted a thousand pounds before he was willing to send someone over to help us."

Cahama is also a veteran who participated in the World Wars. He and more than 100 companions were recruited by the Portuguese West African colonial government and stationed in Lombala, not far from Camea.

Further east of Lombala is Rhodesia in southern Africa.

"What did Qusay say?" Luanda asked in a deep voice.

"Mr. Cousser is willing to sell us weapons and ammunition, but the price is relatively high, and the weapons are not brand new—"

"Hehe——" Luanda sneered. Qusay is under the southern African businessman Yaya. Needless to say, he got these weapons from southern Africa.

For Southern Africa, Rwanda has mixed feelings.

Luanda once considered itself a Southern African, but the Federal Government of Southern Africa never admitted it.

After the outbreak of the World War, the Federal Government of Southern Africa promised that as long as they joined the army and fought for the Federal Government of Southern Africa, the Federal Government would give them freedom after the battle.

Before the end of the world war, Southern Africa relocated all the Africans in its territory to neighboring countries. Luanda never dreamed that Southern Africa would give them freedom in this way.

Luanda used to hold grudges, but after coming to Portuguese West Africa and knowing the living conditions of Africans in Portuguese West Africa, Luanda's hatred for southern Africa gradually faded.

Compared with the Portuguese, southern Africa is still good for Africans. Think about the Portuguese colonizing West Africa for hundreds of years. First, they sold Africans as slaves to all parts of the world. After the slave trade was banned, they used plantations to continue to oppress and harm Africa. People, those Africans on the plantations, often work hard all day and don't even have enough for dinner.

As far as Rwanda knows, this almost never happens in Southern Africa.

"Ruanda, go ahead and call all the other workers over. We will execute these people in front of them and let them know what happens when they are lazy." People, the status is obviously not as good as Samson, a white man.

"Samson, execute fourteen people at once? Mr. Alves won't agree." Luanda couldn't get up, he was afraid that if he stood up, he would not be able to resist kicking Samson's face.

"When you talk to me, you should also add Mr. after my name." Samson expressed his dissatisfaction with Luanda's contempt. The light "Mr." represents a very important meaning.

"Samson, if you want to win the respect of others, you must respect others first." Luanda heard this sentence from his company commander during the World War. His company commander was a graduate of the Nyasaland Military Academy Chinese Lieutenant.

I have to say that Luanda and the others learned a lot during the World War, not only how to fight, but also how to deal with white people and how to fight for their own rights.

"Wow ha ha ha ha - look at this guy, he wears the same uniform as ours and thinks he can get respect from others, it's so funny!" Samson burst out laughing, pointing at Luanda's evil appearance shape.

Several of Luanda's subordinates stood up abruptly, gripping the rifles in their hands.

"What are you going to do? Are you looking for death? Don't forget who gave you your current status. Remember that we can give you back at any time." Samson was confident. There was an outbreak of plantation workers rebelling against slave owners in Portuguese West Africa. riots, but were eventually suppressed.

Maybe Samson didn't notice that the previous riots were forced by Africans. They were not fully prepared, not well organized, and didn't even have a target. Such riots have no future. As long as the army is mobilized to suppress them, It's easy to calm things down.

Luanda they are different.

These veterans have received many years of military training, and all of them are veterans who have survived the battlefield of bullets and bullets. They are organized and disciplined. They only need a common goal, and a single spark can start a prairie fire.

"Okay, I'll call someone—" Luanda stood up slowly, like a chimpanzee standing upright, and Samson finally felt the tremendous pressure.

Soon more than 1000 workers were concentrated in the open space. Luanda and his men were fully armed and maintained order around the open space.

Samson sat on a chair like a noble gentleman, holding a white bowler hat in his hand, which resembled the bowler helmet used by the British army during the World War.

"Sir, everyone is here—" one of Samson's men whispered in Samson's ear.

There seemed to be some dust on the hat in Samson's hand. Samson flicked it casually, and took out a white handkerchief to wipe it gently, as if no one was there.

He then stood up, straightened his hat, held a cane in his hand, and looked like a real officer in his white uniform and black boots.

"They violated the regulations and must accept the punishment they deserve. You pigs, remember this clearly. This is the consequence of being lazy. The only end of not working hard is to feed the dogs. Why don't you just keep your eyes open and see clearly?" —” Samson spattered, and after cursing, the execution began.

The hateful thing is that Samson didn't scatter all the hounds at once, but only one.

It was clear that Samson was prolonging the process, satisfying a certain addiction of his own.

The screams sounded immediately.

The workers who were forced to watch couldn't bear to witness that someone was knocked to the ground and kicked by Samson's men as soon as they closed their eyes.

Luanda was next to him all the way, looking at the workers in the field without any emotion.

There are thousands of workers present, but Samson and his men have less than ten people, and the equipment is still outdated Martini Henry. If thousands of workers swarm up, Samson and his men will not be able to ability to resist.

It's a pity that these workers didn't have any intention of resisting. The eyes of most of them were full of fear and uneasiness, and they huddled together and shivered, as if they could get more sense of security.

Luanda completely lost hope in these workers, and quietly winked at one of his subordinates.

The subordinate understood, suddenly raised his gun, and knocked down the hound that was biting the worker with one shot.

Bah!

The gunshot woke Samson, and also the trembling workers.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you courting death!" Samson drew his gun backhand.

Then he was held down by Luanda's arm.

Samson suddenly felt danger, like being on the edge of a precipice.

"Mr. Samson, thank you for letting me make up my mind—" Luanda's expression was cold, and his eyes were even colder.

"What, what—" Samson felt a slight chill in his lower abdomen as soon as he spoke.

"I said: Thank you!" Luanda pulled out the dagger, and then stabbed it in again.

"Ah—" Samson finally uttered a terrified cry, and his subordinates picked up their guns one after another. Unfortunately, they were knocked down by Luanda's subordinates before the bullets were loaded.

The workers still didn't take any action. They were stunned by the sudden situation in front of them and didn't know what to do.

"Follow me, you won't be bullied, you won't be bitten by dogs, you can have enough to eat every day, and you don't need to be squeezed by others, are you willing?" Luanda's face was stained with blood, with a ferocious expression, gloating He held up the dagger that was still dripping blood.

"Willing, willing—" Luanda's subordinates echoed one after another.

"Willing to—" Finally, a worker made a voice, and the voice became louder and louder.

Of course, Samson, who was already dying, would definitely not be able to hear these voices.

(End of this chapter)