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Welcome to the Jungle - Vietnam's quest for power in WW2

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To Build an Army
Hanoi, 21st March, 1936

You could almost feel the ground shaking beneath their feet. Emperor Bao Dai looked on in solemn pride and felt a tear come to his eye, as the ten thousand men of the 1st Guards Rifles paraded down the main street of the Vietnamese capital, looking invincible and all-powerful in their brand new khaki uniforms, polished rifles gleaming in the weak sunlight. Every man was a true Vietnamese, loyal to his country and it’s true leaders, and every man was proud to be a part of the first division of the reinstated Vietnamese Army. Bao Dai’s heart throbbed as he took in this spectacle – these men of the 1st Imperial Guards Rifles as they truly were, were the first step to the overthrow of the damned frogs from his country and the region.

578px-Chinese-Canadian_Soldiers-WW2.jpg

A vietnamese squad, minus their weapons, part of the first men to be raised in the new army.

ChinaSoldier.jpg


A company of Vietnamese Infantry on Parade near Hanoi, 1936​


Seeing the Emperor’s eyes glisten and snorting in contempt, Guy de Beauharne, the French ‘military advisor’ (mole inside new Vietnamese army to check they were being good little boys) to Vietnam, cleared his throat loudly. What he saw passing by him from this parade stand in this stinking city was ten thousand unwashed, barely trained scruffy gooks whose only value was that they were sitting in the country so the French army could do something useful like crushing that upstart Austrian corporal’s mad skull in. He chose not to voice his opinion, instead remarking to the Emperor ‘Quite a force you have put together here Your Majesty. I trust they have been arranged as specified, for garrison duties?’
The emperor hid a private, satisfied smile of one who knows more than he is letting on. ‘Of course Monsieur General, what else. We Vietnamese value our friendship with France and are grateful for being allowed to defend ourselves. We would not ruin that with any silliness.’ He could have charmed the baby birds out of the trees – the Frenchman nodded stiffly and muttered ‘I should hope so Sir’ in apparent satisfaction. He would of course be inspecting very closely the composition and organisation of this garrison division of theirs, to check it wasn’t going to be going walkabout any time soon. Having had enough of the endless parade of marching men, he stalked off into the city.

Upon seeing the Frenchman depart, Ngo Dinh Diem, head of Government, and Nguyen Hoo Koo, head of the Vietnamese armed forces, went over to and headed up the steps to the top of the podium the emperor still stood on. ‘He bought it Your Majesty?’ Dinh Diem asked. ‘Apparently so far’ Bao Dai replied. He rubbed at his neck as was his habit and addressed his chief of staff ‘You have the fake troop manifests and deployment plans readied?’
‘Yes sir, exactly as ordered. When the damned Frogs choose to look, they will see rotated garrison troops sitting on their arses around the city and patrolling the jungles, ready to face the threat from outside. When they look away, they can be ordered into companies and squads, armed and equipped, and readied to cause a threat themselves within 48 hours. It’ll be like Grandma’s footsteps, Your Majesty, if you ever played as a child.’
‘Lets just hope grandma doesn’t look round at the wrong moment’ Dinh Diem said, almost to himself. The others nodded grimly – they knew the risks.

In disguised warehouses, caches and military camps across the province, weapons and war plans were stowed away, awaiting the day they would be needed, whether that be 3 days or 5 years. Loyal Vietnamese men, handpicked for the task, locked away the secrets they were charged with keeping for the sake of their country, and went home to their families. All except one, who took a different route home, one that took him past the French embassy.
 
I take it that Vietnam is going to look to Japan for alliance once they oust the French, seeing as I doubt the French will much appreciate being ousted and no doubt try to block any Vietnamese entry to the Allies ;)
 
Very nice.

One thing. That officer in your last photo. What does he think he's doing sneaking a peak at the camera while he is at attention.

"EYES FRONT, MAGGOT!"

There that should take care of that. :D
 
Discomb said:
Does that say Canadian Kitties on the lower left?
Click to expand...

Kilties...it says Kilties...gahhhhh! Can't a man wear a dress without being ridiculed? :mad: :D
 
myth: your psychic powers are onj top form as usual, i was trying to make it mysterious :rolleyes:

grayghost: thanks for reading :) i noticed that too. i dont think he's ever seen a camera before, it being vietnam :D or he's paranoid. it looks like a snake is creeping round his feet and he's trying to keep an eye on it...

and oh, thats where the hairy scotsman thing came from, woops, outdone by my own aar's photos. yes, they are wearing kilts, but lets pretend they are vietnamese soldiers on parade in TROUSERS, please :D google images is surprisingly short on military parade photos :eek:o
 
Oops, sorry about that. But it just makes sense from a geo -political and -strategic point of view. Japan is the most potent close major power :D
 
Pinkspider said:
Vietnam IS a major power, right? It's not like you need the assistance of some sauerkraut eating schweinhunds or sushimasters? Just take over the french territory and then piecemeal the warlords
Click to expand...

The Warlords? Pah. I want the Vietnamese Flag over Tokio and Paris!
 
a word of advice: never work in a service station. is there a tired smiley?

myth: i guess we can feel good about that - great minds think alike :) , and it did seem logical to me too as the closest help available.

Pinkspider: Well, Vietnam is pretty powerful in the region of course :D but i cant conquer lots of countries if the british start landing men on my nice jungley beaches, and ic and manpower are rather restricting at the mo. i need allies, unfortunately.

trekaddict: all in good time my friend :)

bigbird: wow thanks, never been called amazing before :) i did consider releasing the neighbouring countries as well, but my rather weak story about how vietnam achieved independence was supposed to be a lucky one-off, with great men coming together and managing to squeeze independance out. the french dissent hit when they released me (from an event iv never seen before) represents for me the resolve they would get to hold the other ones in. i have had plans to work it into the story though at some point.
the political / governmental situation will be adressed in the next episode or possibly the one after.

thanks for the comments everybody, much appreciated. im having some trouble accessing the forum the last few days, its always 'too full'. very irritating. so ill update tomorrow when i can, as i have nothing better to do and im really enjoying writing this.
 
Again, the French are sleeping.

Vietnamiese soldiers with German helmets and they don't suspect a thing?

Oh those Frenchies... :D
 
Canadian Kitties is Code for the inevitable Vietnamese offensive ;) Interesting set up. Dunno whats going through the minds of the Frenchies but they are in for a rude awakening i must say

btw, gotta give you props on the title! Awesome choice :D
 
Kurt Steiner / Pinkspider: i thought they were germans too. but according to where i found it they're chinese army. strange

TreizeV: You've got it sussed ;) the french are indeed going to get one hell of a shock.
and about the title: thanks :D i had a few choices but i was listening to the song and i thought it was too good an opportunity to miss. im surprised no-one has ever used it before
 
The eye in the back of Grandma’s head

The building loomed up in front of Ly Le Cocq, easily the most impressive one in the area – Hanoi was not a city of great skyscrapers, such as he had heard of in cities like New York. The French embassy was built to impress, and remind the Vietnamese citizens that they were under the thumb of a powerful empire. Despite the number of times he had been there before, it never failed to impress him, and slightly unsettle him.

Le Cocq had been betraying national secrets to the French for years. He didn’t mind the tag of ‘traitor’, not when he looked around his house in the evening – fairly well to do from the outside, like those of his neighbours in the middle class areas of the city, but fit for a king inside, a testament to the years of benefits he had received from the French in return for his help in rooting out troublemakers and spying on his colleagues, who knew him as Major General Le Cocq. He smiled outwardly, a strange smile which made a passing young lady move to the other side of the road. He took no notice, other than to note that her long dress showed daring amounts of ankle and even calf. This information would be enough to land him Head of the Army, or whatever army the French allowed after they crushed the nationalist leaders and took back control of the country. He might even get to be the Governor of Vietnam, if he got lucky. He wasn’t ranked highly enough to be taken into the Emperor’s confidence, but while following his orders he had gathered enough evidence of gross fraud on the part of the Emperor’s men to make the French believe his story, that the garrison forces weren’t all they seemed. Life was good. Without a moments hesitation or regret for his motherland he turned the corner to approach the front steps of the embassy.

‘Excuse me sir, but could I trouble you for a match?’ the young lady he had noticed before was standing just behind him, with a polite smile on her face. ‘Why yes, you can my dear, though it really is a filthy habit for one as young as yourself to have picked up.’ The girl smiled ruefully and nodded.
She was pretty short, even for a Vietnamese woman. She couldn’t have been more than 17 or 18, and her skin was deliciously smooth, thought Le Cocq as he bent down to hold the match to the cigarette held between her moist lips. She smiled again gratefully, as the noise of a car – another imported Renault, grew louder and then lingered nearby. At the sound of two doors opening and running footsteps Le Cocq turned in alarm, to see two men in the new Vietnamese Army uniforms like his own, ten feet away. He instinctively lashed out, sending the girl spinning away with a cry, and managed to turn and dash up a sidestreet, dealing one of the men a sharp blow to the face as he did so. He ran blindly, heart thundering with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Hadn’t he covered his tracks?

He sprinted up another, larger street and into a market, hoping to lose his persistent pursuers in the crowds. The two men were still doggedly following, one’s face, he noticed at some point in the chase with a moment of savage satisfaction, a crimson blur of blood from his ruined nose. The man was still coming though. It was at this point that he realised he should have run for the embassy, and not blindly like a frightened rabbit. Cac. He glanced back again, to see the two men closing, and looked front again, just in time to run straight into a very large woman carrying two huge bags stuffed with shopping from the market stalls. He somehow managed to pull himself to his feet and carry on, ignoring her indignant shouts, and feeling one of his predator’s hands brush the back of his jacket for an instant. Le Cocq was a fit and strong man, but these men had 20 years of youth on their side, and running into that damned fat ma mi hadn’t helped. He turned abruptly right into a side street as another car screamed up to him at the end of the row of market stalls. He was beginning to panic now, realising he was flagging and there was nowhere to run. The man with the ruined nose was shouting curses and threats between heavy breaths, but the other was telling him to make it easy and give himself up. Another car filled with men approached as red dots began to blur his vision, and, staggering now across the road, despair and panic flooded his mind. Death by torture hadn’t been the end he had envisaged. The vaguely imagined pain of his countrymen’s interrogation rooms floating across his petrified mind was the last thing that ever did, as a car hit him like a brick wall.

‘… so we believe the secret is safe for now.’ Tham Tat Truong stood alongside his comrade, whose nose was encased in a bloody bandage. Colonel Truong and his partner were members of the Chó Săn Cáo, the CSC for short – the word meaning Foxhound in English bestowed upon the Emperor’s Special Forces, who were responsible for all acts of espionage, sabotage, assassination etc, anything that Vietnam had to do but the French couldn’t see. They had been operating for the past five years, and this was the first instance in which they had failed to fulfil their objectives to the letter, more or less.
‘Yes well, it would have been nice to have asked the man a few questions, find out if any more of our generals are selling information to the frogs,’ the Emperor stated with an sarcastic smile. ‘But if you say you’re covering all the angles from now on, I’ll believe you. I am impressed that you kept watch on the man for so long; he was not what they call a careless man. It does appear you’ve contained the situation – though what did the embassy staff think of your little ambush?’
‘Majesty,’ Tham replied, still looking at the floor in his shame at having let his Emperor down ‘we simply said he had gone rogue and was about to blow the place up. They might not believe us, but we’ve supplied some false evidence and there’s not much they can do – it’s not their style to admit they are using our men to spy on us. Doesn’t fit well with their high and mighty overlordly attitude, they are supposed to be better than us.’
‘Very well. I have to admit, with your leader away in another country, you’ve done well. You’re dismissed Colonel, and thank you. You seem to have saved our hides for a little while longer. Oh, and I hope the girl got her reward. We might even make use of her in the future.’

foxhound.jpg


The Symbol of the CSC. The lack of any initials or text reflects the nonexistance in which the group had to operate in official circles in it's early years.​
 
A bit of counter-espionage, eh? Good, good, gotta get rid of those French spies :D
 
I like spies because they inherently carry within their title the word pies.

By contrast, I do not like spy singular, because such a connection can not be established.
 
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