Chapter 261: France Bleeds
Following the events of the Russian Civil War, which began over a decade prior in this timeline when compared to that of Bruno's past life. Marxism, Socialism, Communism, Anarchism, et cetera were all universally condemned by all the major powers in Europe.
Whether it was the German Reich, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, or even the French Republic a major crackdown and suppression began to affect far-left groups. Who were presented as radical extremists whose sole objective was destruction, violence, death and chaos for its own sake.
Because of this, many of the people who adhered to such foolish beliefs were quickly driven underground, those who were not apprehended and tried as seditious individuals went deep into hiding.
But... War presented opportunities for a return of humanity's single most destructive ideology. And as the Great War continued to wage, and the French Republic continued to suffer horrific loss after horrific loss. The people of France began to become a bit... agitated. Demonstrations began to take place across the country. And while they started off as peaceful, there would always be those willing to take things too far and escalate them beyond their original intent.
Agitators were embedded within the ranks of the protestors who stood outside the French Parliament demanding an end to the war. Too many of France's beloved sons had either been wounded or worse already.
It would be one thing if they were exchanging losses for wins. But eight months into the war, and France had yet to gain a single victory worthy of note. The only reason Paris had not been seized already was because the Germans were what one from the 21st century might call "farming the French soldiers for xp..." at this point.
Many citizens had grown concerned about the state of the ongoing war, and why they were continuing to fight when Serbia, their ally who had dragged them into this mess to begin with had already capitulated.
Shouts and slogans were being made, as French citizens forced their voices to be heard. Not the slightest bit aware that their protest had been fully infiltrated by some rats whose intentions were far from pure.
A French woman, wearing a distinctive red overcoat, and a striped scarf no older than roughly twenty years of age looked over at a man perhaps ten years her elder, and nodded her head. Before uttering her thoughts aloud.
"This is for Leon..."