Chapter 492: The Sit-In War
Cléry had absolutely no way of dealing with the Songho fortress. The entire structure was like a turtle shell, and the East African army inside acted like a turtle hiding in its shell—refusing to come out and fight. The result was a stalemate.
This greatly frustrated Cléry, who had only fought "rich men's wars" during his time in the French army. He had never been humiliated like this before. But his greater resentment was aimed at the Portuguese of Mozambique—colonials through and through, with no real strength to speak of.
Only now, fresh out of the academy, did Cléry finally understand why colonial states and regions crumbled so easily in front of Western powers. It wasn't just about equipment—the real problems lay with the people and the system.
If the Portuguese were this weak and still managed to hold vast amounts of territory, then one could only imagine how pitiful the native regimes must have been.
At the same time, Cléry was deeply impressed by the East African army, especially their fortifications and military readiness. Despite being a colony as well, they far outclassed the Portuguese.
Cléry thought to himself: Colonies must fall into different tiers. The United States, having gained independence and developed rapidly, clearly belonged in the first tier—a true global power in size and economy. India, essential to Britain's dominance over France, was in the second tier. Brazil, too, belonged there. Portugal, having lost Brazil, no longer counted as a strong nation in Cléry's eyes. Australia, Canada, and even France's own Algeria were third-tier. East Africa, in Cléry's view, also fit that category. Cape Town might qualify too—but East Africa's dominance in the region limited its potential.
Cléry's classification was telling. Despite the fact that the U.S., Brazil, and East Africa were all independent nations, in his eyes anything outside of Europe was still basically a colony. That was the pride of old Europe speaking.
Of course, if Ernst knew Cléry's thoughts, he'd probably agree. Though all three countries were independent, economically they were still dependent on old Europe. Only the U.S. and East Africa had any real autonomy in development, and even then, being "expelled from the global club" by Europe would still be a major blow.
After two days of fruitless attacks, Cléry was disheartened. Rodé, however, was completely unfazed and just watched the show.
Cléry said, "Captain, I don't think I can break through Songho on my own. Do you have any bright ideas?"
Rodé replied, "Huh? Are we giving up already? If you ask me, we just keep sending these Black guys forward. We'll wear the Germans down eventually—who cares if the Blacks die?"
Cléry was speechless. "If we had ten times their numbers, that might work. But even if Black lives are cheap, we can't waste them like this. We trained these men with great effort. If they all die now, we'll have no time to train replacements."
So in the Portuguese view, the Black troops Cléry had painstakingly trained were nothing more than cannon fodder. This left him disheartened.
Sure, technically they were expendable, but Cléry believed that the French-trained Blacks were at least elite cannon fodder. To lump them in with untrained rabble was an insult to French instruction.
Rodé didn't care. "As long as we have a good excuse, it's fine. Without heavy weapons, taking the Songho fortress was always going to be tough. Who would've thought East Africa would build a damn turtle shell in the middle of nowhere? If we don't have the tools, then we pay in lives. Blacks are an inferior race. They can't learn European tactics. The Germans, at least, have plenty of white soldiers. It's understandable that the war has dragged on this long. It's also understandable that we haven't achieved any results."
Rodé clearly intended to shirk responsibility. Then again, Cléry realized Rodé had been doing just that from the very beginning.
Curious, Cléry asked, "Captain Rodé, you're Portuguese. Mozambique is your colony. If we lose this war and Portugal loses Mozambique, wouldn't you be upset?"
Rodé, surprised by Cléry's uncharacteristic sincerity, waved his hand dismissively. "What's that got to do with me? I used to be a security guard in Maputo, just doing a policeman's job. Then they made me an officer overnight. I'm not a professional soldier like you. And for me, soldiering is just a job—jobs can be replaced. If Mozambique's lost, so be it. I'll find work elsewhere. I used to be a shoemaker. I've got a trade, so I won't starve. Honestly, I haven't made much more here than I did back home. I only came to Mozambique because I got talked into it."
Rodé continued, "In Mozambique, you could probably become a landowner. All the land here was taken from the Blacks. Even if you can't be a big landlord, a small one's doable."
"But what's the point?" he added. "Like I said, I come from a family of shoemakers. I don't know the first thing about farming. Besides, can you even compare Mozambique's land to Europe's? Where would I sell the crops? I have no capital, no skills. Developing land is out of the question."
European land was often carefully developed and fertile. Most of Mozambique's land was wild and undeveloped. The first couple of years could yield good harvests thanks to natural soil fertility, but then it would quickly deteriorate—and developing new land was extremely difficult.
Mozambique, being one of the oldest colonies in Africa, had most of its land already claimed. And with East Africa blocking Mozambique's expansion for years, new immigrants had no chance of getting a piece of the pie.
Cléry said, "I heard colonial wages are higher. You're not doing that badly, are you?"
Rodé responded, "That's not for you to judge—it's up to the colonial elites. Sure, our income is higher, but not much better than working in a factory back in Europe. And don't forget, you still have to spend money. Things are more expensive here than in Europe. Plus, earning money in a colony means you're risking your life."
Rodé's salary might be small individually, but multiplied by tens of thousands like him, it became a major expense for the colonial government. People came to the colonies to make money—but there were always others waiting to drain their wallets.
Of course, not everyone was like Rodé. But plenty were. Sailors especially—those were the real spenders. The booming economies of Dar es Salaam and Mombasa's open zones were built on the spending of transient merchants and seamen. If you didn't spend your money there, you probably never would. The sea was dangerous. Sailors, with their broad perspectives, knew better than anyone that money was meant to be spent.
Hearing Rodé's personal story, Cléry couldn't bring himself to hate the man anymore—even though he'd been a burden every step of the way.
Cléry said, "You're right. As long as we have an excuse, we can shift the blame. No point wasting effort. We'll just drag it out with East Africa."
Rodé was pleased. He'd just shown a young man the light. What was the point of all the killing, anyway?
And so, Portugal and East Africa entered "garbage time" at Songho. Occasionally, one side would fire a few rounds—literally just for the noise. When the Portuguese realized the East Africans weren't coming out, they stopped even pretending to attack. They just stared at each other, silently—thus began the "sit-in war."
Of course, the East African army wasn't slacking off like the Portuguese. They were furious. If not for strict orders from their commander, they would've charged out and annihilated the enemy long ago.
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