Criminal Incompetence #2: The Powder Keg of French Indochina
Cochinchina—no, French Indochina. A place where France demanded massive shipments of iron, sugar, and rice every year. And wouldn't you know it, just like parent and child, the revolutionary fervor was already bubbling over there. The reason? The Suez Canal. More precisely, its reopening.
Back when the canal was blocked: "Where should we send this month's quota?" "Just invest it locally and ship the iron." "Got it!"
At that point, with the canal still clogged and the Southeast Asian Great Depression shaking everything up, France wanted nothing to do with the region. Getting involved meant they'd have to foot the bill themselves. But ironically, that hands-off approach saved the economy of French Indochina. Korea was buying up the rice, French interference and exploitation had eased off, and the colonial governor's office was reinvesting its earnings right there on the ground. Luckily—or unluckily—Chinese bananas from Hainan kept the rice-short Vietnamese from starving outright, making it all possible.
Think about it: Europe was getting swept up in the Southeast Asian Depression, slapped around by the collapse of the gold standard. Hilarious, right? But everything changed when the canal reopened between them.
France, in the thick of war, saw the canal open and their war situation sour, so they started indiscriminately seizing all the harvests they hadn't collected before. Vietnam, which had boomed selling rice to Korea, now had to load every last grain—and even the bananas they lived on—onto ships bound for France.
To the Vietnamese, it was like losing both rice and bananas. Locals protested, but France—whose own nose was numb from hardship—couldn't care less. "If you're hungry, enlist."
When the government scraped every last penny from the governor's office, the workers who'd been contracted by the colonial administration hit the streets. Farmers, realizing their crops would just be taken anyway, joined them. Young men facing conscription poured out too. If it weren't wartime, a revolution could've erupted the next day.
But France's second-class citizens, who loved liberty, equality, and revolution, got no sympathy from their first-class overlords. Quite the opposite.
"If we play this right, we could use them."
As long as it wasn't outright seizure, it was fine. In colonial management, Britain and France were like a mega-corp versus a shady small business. Britain cut operating profits to boost sales volume, sharing the red ink among insiders. France, meanwhile, inflated sales figures—hell, the books themselves—then cashed in big like a pump-and-dump penny stock.
That's why I never saw France as a viable alternative to Britain, even if America was out of the picture. In the world I knew, France was positioned as Britain's rival. But living here, it was all just propaganda. In reality, France was a small-time boss, a loan shark, obsessed with throwing its weight around.
Just compare British Hong Kong (close to Guangzhou) with French Guangzhou Bay (far from Guangzhou). The difference in position and power was night and day.
But that's exactly why I granted almost every demand from France—or rather, French Indochina. They were total idiots. Britain had something to salvage; playing with that shit-stained dog would've gotten me nothing but fleas. And honestly, with nothing much to offer, their demands weren't that outrageous anyway.
"So, you want us to stop importing rice, sugar, rubber, timber, and everything else?"
"We're begging you. The homeland's situation is precarious."
"If you say so, sure. Yeah, got it. We're comrades in arms, after all. Feel free to ask without hesitation."
The only obstacle, Korea, had given the green light. Nothing stood in French Indochina's way anymore. They could do whatever they wanted.
"Lately, attacks and incitements against officials and public authority have been on the rise. It's all German intrigue."
!?
"Given the wartime conditions, we're banning all private exports here and sealing the borders."
Fruits and sugar that used to flow to China and Korea, fattening farmers and merchants, ground to a halt.
"Canned fruit for the homeland, sugar by the sack—all to the homeland."
"Uh, you'll pay for this, right? This isn't seizure? It's fruit!"
"Of course. We'll pay handsomely."
"Pardon?"
Surely not? But the merchant ended up with his hands full of military scrip.
"What's this?"
"What else? Military scrip. Think of it as coupons backed by the army."
"..."
It wasn't unusual, per se. The problem was it only circulated in occupied enemy territories! No different from Napoleonic-era IOUs. But one thing was clear: this wasn't even a promissory note.
They'd demanded cash and got coupons instead. Drained of assets and dignity, the merchant trudged home—only to be beckoned by a shadowy figure.
"Hey, why the death mask since morning? Want a smoke?"
"They called this military scrip 'payment.' Where the hell do I use it?"
"Ah, yeah, scrip. Things have really gone to shit here too, huh."
"That's what I think."
"Hand it over. I'll exchange it."
"?! This trash?"
"Trash has its uses. I pay a lot in taxes."
The dealer bought the worthless paper at a steal. He approached other desperate merchants, scooping up their scrip cheap and handing over cash. At night, he headed to the French governor's office.
"Heh, money printing. Military scrip is genius."
"Kukuku, with the franc depreciating daily, it's plus-minus zero."
"...Shut up."
They shipped goods to France, got francs in payment, pocketed them, printed more scrip, and "purchased" goods meant for export across Indochina. Then they bought back the scrip cheap with a bit of francs and burned it. An infinite engine.
With exports controlled, no one could stop them. The French government even praised their efficiency in acquiring vast supplies for pennies.
"Scrip surplus! Dump more! Print more!"
"Go go go!"
And so 1915 arrived, opening a second front in France—already down a million men.
'hoxy'
Japan asked first if it was Korea's doing. Military rule was one thing, the prime minister another, but after the Hong Kong incident, they needed to confirm. One more slip-up, and Japan-Korea friendship was toast. Japan was barely breathing without permission.
Even the British Grand Fleet they'd trusted had mostly sunk to Dragon Palace. Britain might suspect, but Japan—as a third party, insider, and stakeholder—knew. The fleet's annihilation, Indonesia's independence: his handiwork, his style. Maybe even building the fishery warehouse right by the coastal port?
So they asked: If Indonesia, then Indochina?
My answer: No.
"Why do island nations like Britain and America always assume I'm the culprit whenever something happens?"
I was working Southeast Asia, sure, but not Vietnam—French Indochina. Why stick my neck out in a place primed for revolution or independence anyway?
What I actually cared about was Indonesia. Specifically, Britain asking me to occupy it for them.
'I'm sending money, not troops.'
'Joking, right?'
'You invest too. Money multiplies.'
'...Fine, me too.'
Since I invested cash, not troops, Britain couldn't screw around in Indonesia without picking a fight with me. With all these whales devouring fledgling nations, wasn't it time to think about fattening them up instead? The world felt too cramped.
Japan, at least, learned fast.
"Your Excellency, are you sure about letting Japan meddle in Thailand and Indonesia?"
"Leave it for now. Let's see. He's the Japanese prime minister too. Can't pour cold water if Japan's business and political elites want to step up."
Even if Japan was a backstabbing demon sword, if it cut well, I'd wield it gladly. Sure, I sometimes wanted to shatter it into pieces, but by my standards, they hadn't crossed the line yet. Whenever they neared it, I smacked them down.
In Taiwan—now Greater Korea Taiwan—they focused on rubber, not abusing blacks. In Indonesia, just buying shares and proposing investments. Thailand? Hmm, if that's it?
Paradoxically, stripping Japan of battleships and militarism meant it was time to loosen the leash. When kicking someone out, did it have to end bitter? Did I even have to kick them out?
Why not run the Korean Shogunate forever? Without reef-loving Japan, who'd manage all those Pacific atolls and ports?
Dictatorial Korea offloaded admin to local autonomy, but ironically, diplomacy and territorial disputes still landed on my desk for final sign-off. Otherwise, Kwantung Army types would pop up somewhere in Korea.
So outsourcing external meddling to Japan benefited Korea. Easier dealing with their CEOs than chairmen jumping out. Key point: fewer direct involvements for me.
Did I have to ditch this Japanese automation tool? Abandon all those Pacific islands? Couldn't I just keep the leash forever?
"Your Excellency, Japan seems interested in Indonesia's foreign exchange bank."
"Learning too fast, aren't they?"
A bank—no, a foreign exchange bank. From outside, it screamed Korea's ambitions in Indonesia. Sure, Japan was eyeing it, but who watches Japan? They watch me behind it.
I knew Japan's finance prowess, their silver-haired retirees as dutiful sons. But why chase a bank? Too obvious.
Come to think of it, that Kwantung Army... those bastards were exactly that. Why'd I forget?