Chapter 853: Small Handicrafts

If the Caucasus region had already returned to spring, with the weather beginning to warm, then on the distant continent of Africa, everything was already scorching hot. And this heat, with the expansion of the German-Italian African joint forces, was becoming even more intense.

Although the German forces in Egypt, North Africa, had halted their advance and were not further threatening the fragile American-British defense line, this did not mean that Germany and Italy had stopped their expansion in Africa. The main reason they had not advanced eastward was that they were extending their tentacles into Central Africa.

On the vast African plains, a German Kübelwagen kicked up a cloud of dust. The car had driven all the way from the south, following a crude road. From North Africa, extending south into Central Africa, there was basically no infrastructure. There was no electricity, no roads, and even the cities were as haphazard and lacking in scale as a marketplace.

But none of this meant that the people here had no hatred, nor did it mean that they did not fight and kill each other. On the contrary, the conflicts between them were even more deeply ingrained than in the civilized world, and when they fought, they were even more barbaric and cruel.

In a village by the roadside, a dozen or so black men in SS uniforms, holding Mauser 98k rifles, watched as the car stopped in front of them. They grinned, their thick lips parting to reveal teeth as white as moonlight.

Their uniforms had no epaulets or collar tabs, no steel helmets or gas mask canisters. They also lacked the tactical vests that had become almost standard issue for the entire German army. An even greater difference was that these black men wore the SS uniforms with a scruffy, rustic air, so it didn’t take much to see they were not real German troops.

On the Kübelwagen, a black man dressed in a German SS officer’s uniform, with a colorful piece of homespun cloth inexplicably draped over his shoulder, nodded in satisfaction as he watched his men salute him. He still preferred the German salute, with the right arm raised high. For some reason, he just felt it looked particularly imposing.

Those Germans from the distant Europe were like god-like beings. They possessed armored cars and tanks that were simply impossible to destroy. Their planes could fly over thousands of mountains, drop bombs, and destroy an entire village.

So he had submitted. He had chosen to cooperate with these people who possessed mysterious power, to become one who followed their orders, or rather, to become their friend. Now he was the leader of the largest military group in a region of several hundred square kilometers, with tens of thousands of elite soldiers and a powerful tribe that supported him.

The Germans could be said to be the best allies in the world. They had generously provided 20,000 rifles and a full 500,000 rounds of ammunition! These munitions, the trucks to transport them, and the ten armored cars to escort them—all had been given to him, who had submitted to Germany.

And so his tribe had gained the capital to wage war on the surrounding tribes. They had more advanced weapons, and the battles were never in doubt. At a time when the rest of the world was unwilling to set foot in this barren land, the Germans had occupied these empty areas, and with a method that was unheard of.

The Germans were willing to trade weapons, ammunition, and even all sorts of industrial equipment for all the local resources: wood, rubber, and even children. By the time General Fkuman had established the Great African Empire, he already controlled a large swath of territory in Central Africa and possessed a relatively modern headquarters.

The conquest of Africa was barbaric and cruel. As General Fkuman got out of his Kübelwagen and stood before his soldiers, some of his men were still holding bloody machetes. These soldiers all had the custom of carrying a machete as a symbol of their strength and power. Even though the guns on their backs were more powerful, they still liked to use a big machete to prove they were the best warriors.

On the side of the road, there was a neat row of human heads, arranged in two layers. The bottom four formed a group, with a single head from the second layer piled in the middle, forming a small pyramid. These small pyramids stretched on, covering the entire roadbed for about thirty meters. Blood seeped from the bowl-sized cuts, drying on the messy, withered hair of the heads below.

This was an important supply line connecting his empire and the Third Reich, and this village had long refused to submit to his rule. To ensure he could continue to receive supplies from his German allies, and to establish the rule on his own turf that disobedience meant annihilation, he had sent his men to launch a clean and decisive raid on the entire village, completely wiping out this tribe.

Of course, the method of annihilation was very barbaric. They had first killed all the local tribal men who dared to resist, then had rampaged through the village for a whole day before finishing off all the living with their machetes. They were no different from wild beasts, just as their ancestors had done for the past few hundred years.

General Fkuman, standing on the road with his hands behind his back, nodded in satisfaction as he watched his men appear at the southern end of the road, driving horse-drawn carts, ox-carts, and even pushing handcarts. He didn’t have many things he could use to exchange for the Germans’ support. Rubber was one of them. The Germans seemed to have an endless demand for this substance. No matter how much of it he collected, the Germans would trade for it all with weapons and all sorts of other things.

He knew that rubber was a very useful industrial raw material, but he didn’t know just how many factories a country needed to consume what he considered to be more rubber than grain, to the point where there was none left. It seemed the rubber raw materials he provided were not even half of what the Germans needed.

So every time he came here, his aide would be carrying a huge box filled with diamonds to make up the difference in the trade. This was also an African specialty, one of the things the Germans liked. But this kind of thing could not be used too much at once. Most of it was private contraband brought in by the German officers who came to trade, either for themselves or for others.

At noon, due to the heat, the dead and silent village was already beginning to have a faint, foul smell. On the road to the north, a convoy of German trucks appeared on the horizon. The temperature of the ground made the air shimmer, and the distant scene swayed as if it were about to melt. This German transport convoy drew closer and closer, and in the blink of an eye, it had arrived in front of General Fkuman.

The lead German Kübelwagen stopped its wheels on the side of the road. The door was pushed open, and a German officer in shorts jumped out, frowning as he looked at General Fkuman opposite him. The sunlight was too glaring. Even with the brim of his cap for shade, it was still somewhat annoying.

“On behalf of myself, I extend my most sincere greetings to the great Führer, Mr. Akado Rudolph. What’s this? Why isn’t Colonel Wei Jino here? Is he ill?” General Fkuman said with a smile as he walked over, taking the initiative to make small talk. It had to be said that General Fkuman had a unique advantage, at least in terms of language. After a period of hard work, his German was already quite fluent, and he could use many obscure words.

“Him? He was executed in Cairo by Marshal Rommel for embezzling state assets. The fourteen dice-sized diamonds have been sent back to the German homeland by the military police to be traced. None of those parasites will get away,” the leading German officer said with a smile to General Fkuman. “Diamonds are a wonderful thing, aren’t they? A pity one has to be alive to enjoy them.”

“Yes… yes, yes!” Hearing that the colonel he was familiar with had already been executed, General Fkuman suddenly felt the surrounding air become even hotter. He reached up and undid the top button of his collar, then swallowed and nodded. “They’re all just local products, just some worthless little handicrafts made locally.”

“Alright, I’ve come here this time to continue our cooperation. You don’t need to explain anything. After all, many things are not really your fault,” the German colonel said coldly. He glanced at the disgusting human heads on the roadbed and frowned again.

For a German like him, born in a civilized society, even killing had to follow certain rules. The cruelty of war was embodied in the invasion and destruction of one civilization by another, not in the cruel method of digging out the enemy’s intestines and heart.

He gently covered his nose with his hand, then waved his hand to signal his troops to come forward and count the goods. “Tell me what you need. This time I’ve brought the 100,000 rounds of ammunition and 5,000 rifles you urgently need. Do you have any other requests?”

“There are some tribes to my south that have received American arms. I hope to get more heavy weapons to ensure the absolute security of the rubber-producing areas in the southern region,” General Fkuman said. “I want 20 large-caliber cannons, and 30 armored cars and the same number of tanks.”

The German officer said nothing. He was already beginning to calculate many things in his mind. For example, among the cannons that Rommel had captured, could he spare 20 of the British 25-pounders for General Fkuman? Were there enough shells? The number of useless British Mk I cruiser tanks was also enough. It would be good to put them to use.

But all of this still had to be haggled over. On the other hand, there were still many people waiting for those expensive African local products to satisfy their luxurious lifestyles. The German officer finally spoke, but not about the trade. “Those worthless little handicrafts you mentioned, I want 20 of them! A lot of people are waiting, you understand?”

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com