It is better to be a peaceful dog than to be a troubled person.

Rwanda of Camea, Portuguese West Africa, recently had a new understanding of this phrase.

It all started with the failure of the Entente's intervention in the new Russian government.

After the disbandment of the Allied intervention forces, the members were torn apart, and Luanda and some of his comrades moved to Portuguese West Africa to work as security guards on a plantation in Kameia.

During the World War, Rwanda became an accurate marksman with her accurate shooting, and after arriving in Portuguese West Africa, she gained the trust of her employer with her fluent English and successfully became the plantation's head of security.

With 24 security guards under his command, Rwanda works on a 1,500-hectare plantation with 600 African workers.

Unlike southern Africa, where wages are never in arrears, African-American workers in Portuguese and West Africa are not paid to work on plantations, and if they fail to complete their tasks, they are abused by plantation owners.

Now it is different, after the tempering of the world war, the fear of white people in Rwanda's heart has disappeared, and the white people he killed with his own hands during the European war are no less than whites, which if it is replaced by whites or Chinese, it is at least worth a medal of hero, just because Luanda is African, so Luanda only received a reward of 5 pounds.

"Today a dozen more workers didn't get enough glue, Samson tied them up and said they were going to let the dogs bite them, and they've killed six people this week." Luanda sat on the steps in front of the dormitory, surrounded by a few of his men, all grim.

Not far away, in the clearing, another security chief, Samson, was directing several white soldiers to tie a dozen Africans to tree stumps, and several fierce hounds next to him were already impatient.

The security guards on the plantation were divided into two groups, one by retired soldiers led by Rwanda and the other by white security guards led by Samson.

These white security guards are actually Portuguese ruffians and hooligans, and they don't have much combat power in themselves, and they all rely on white skins to eat on the plantation.

Samson is also white, and is said to be a relative of the plantation owner Alves, who has a bad habit of killing people for fun, killing innocents indiscriminately, cruelty, and gritting teeth.

"What I asked you to do, how did you do?" Luanda was biting a piece of grass in his mouth and tearing unconsciously, his expression distorted, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I contacted Cajama, and he asked for a thousand pounds before he was willing to send someone to help us."

Cajama, also a veteran of the World Wars, was recruited by the colonial government of Portuguese West Africa with more than a hundred companions and stationed in Lombara, not far from Kamea.

Further east is the Rhodesian state of Southern Africa.

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

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

"Hehe-" Luanda sneered, Cusse was a subordinate of Yaya, a merchant from southern Africa, and needless to say, these weapons were all made from southern Africa.

For Southern Africa, Rwanda has mixed feelings.

Rwanda once considered himself a Southern African, but the Federal Government of Southern Africa never recognized 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, then after the battle, the federal government would give them freedom.

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

In the past, Rwanda also held a grudge, but after coming to Portuguese West Africa, knowing the living conditions of Africans in Portuguese West Africa, Rwanda's hatred for southern Africa gradually faded.

Compared with the Portuguese, southern Africa is still good for Africans, think about the Portuguese colonization of West Africa for hundreds of years, first sold Africans as slaves to all over the world, after the slave trade was banned, and then used the plantations to continue to oppress and kill Africans, those Africans on the plantations often work hard all day and can't even eat dinner.

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

"Luanda, go, all the other workers are called, we will execute these people in front of them, and let them know the fate of laziness." Samson is arrogant, and although he is also the head of security, Rwanda, an African, is obviously inferior to Samson, a white man.

"Samson, execute fourteen people at once? Mr. Alves would not have agreed. Luanda didn't get up, he was afraid that if he stood up, he couldn't help but kick Samson in the face.

"When you talk to me, you should also add Mr. after my name." Samson expressed his displeasure with Rwanda's contempt, and the significance of a frivolous "sir" is very important.

"Samson, if you want to earn the respect of others, you must first respect others." Rwanda had heard this phrase from his company commander during the World War, a lieutenant of Chinese descent who had graduated from the Nyasaland Military Academy.

It has to be said that Rwanda learned a lot during the world war, not only how to fight, but also how to deal with whites and how to fight for their rights.

"Wha-you look at this guy, he wears the same uniform as us, and he thinks he can be respected by others, it's so funny!" Samson burst into laughter and pointed at Luanda's evil form.

Several of Rwanda's men stood up and clenched their rifles.

"What are you going to do? Looking for death? Don't forget who gave you where you are now, remember that we can give it to you, and you can take it back at any time. Samson had no fear, and plantation workers rebelled against slave owners in Portuguese West Africa, but they were all suppressed.

Perhaps Samson did not notice that the previous riots were all forced by Africans, not fully prepared, not well organized, and not even with a goal, such riots have no future, as long as the army is mobilized to suppress them, it is easy to calm down the situation.

Luanda they are different.

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

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

Soon more than a thousand workers were gathered in the clearing, and Rwanda and his men were heavily armed to maintain order around the clearing.

Samson sat in a chair like a noble gentleman, holding a white yarmulke hat resembling the yar-capped helmet used by the British army during the World Wars.

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

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

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

"They have violated the rules and must be punished, you pigs remember to me that this is the consequence of laziness, and the only end of not working well is to feed the dogs, so let me see it with wide eyes—" Samson foamed at the mouth and began the execution.

Sadly, Samson didn't scatter all the hounds at once, but only one.

It was clear that Samson was trying to prolong the process and satisfy some of his hobbies.

Screams rang out immediately.

The workers who were forced to watch could not bear to witness that no one had just closed his eyes before being knocked to the ground and punched and kicked by Samson's men.

Lu Anda looked at the workers in the field without the slightest emotion.

There were thousands of workers present, but Samson and his men had less than ten, still equipped with old Martini Henry, and if thousands of workers swarmed up, Samson and his men would not be able to resist at all.

It is a pity that these workers have no intention of resisting, and the vast majority of them are full of fear and anxiety in their eyes, huddled together and trembling, as if they would gain more security in this way.

Completely disillusioned with the workers, Rwanda quietly glanced at one of his men.

The subordinate realized, suddenly raised his gun, and with a single shot knocked out the hound, which was biting the worker.

Bang!

The sound of gunfire woke Samson and the shivering workers.

"What the hell are you going to do? Looking for death! Samson pulled out his gun with his backhand.

Then he was held down by Rwanda's arm.

Samson suddenly felt the danger, like he was on the edge of a cliff.

"Mr. Samson, thank you for making up my mind—" Luanda's expression was grim, and his eyes were even colder.

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

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

"Ahh

The workers remained silent, stunned by what was happening in front of them and did not know what to do.

"Follow me, you won't be bullied, you won't be bitten by dogs, you can eat enough every day, you don't need to be oppressed, you-will?" With a blood-stained face and a hideous expression, Luanda raised his dagger, which was still dripping blood.

"Yes, willing—" Rwanda's men echoed.

"Willing-" Finally a worker spoke, and then louder and louder.

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