Empire of Fu Manchu

The White House
Washington DC, United States of America
Thursday, September 13th 1940




Four men walked into the room, their eyes downcast, their appearance haggard. They were men of power and wealth, but today they carried an air of sorrow and despair, rather than self-assurance. Through the large windows in the conference room, a bleak grey light shone from a sky heavy with overcast. The President of the United States awaited them seated at the head of a long conference table, its wood polished to a brilliant sheen. His august features wore such burden of worry and sadness he seemed ill.

‘Welcome gentlemen. Please take your seats’, Franklin D. Roosevelt invited his war cabinet.

On the President’s right side the Secretary of War Harry H. Woodring sat down with a heavy sigh. To his right, the face of General George Marshall, Chief of Staff of the Army was as set in stone. Today his sixty years weighed more heavily on his shoulders than ever.

On the other side of the table the Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau and the Secretary of State Cordell Hull exchanged worried looks as they took their seats. There was little doubt grave news were to be expected.

When all were seated Roosevelt shook his head as if preparing for a dreaded duty and looked at the Secretary of War. ‘Harry, go ahead. How bad is it?’

Woodring set his jaw. ‘Gentlemen, despite the positive spin we’ve tried to put on this in the newspapers, no one of you will be surprised to know that we’ve suffered a major defeat in the battle for the Midwest. But matters are actually much worse – even “disaster” is almost inadequate. General Marshall, if you would be so kind to fill in the details for us?’

The General nodded, rose from his chair and walked over to the large map of the United States that hung on one wall of the room.

‘Gentlemen, The Secretary of War has summed the matter succinctly. We were expecting a big Pan-Asian push to reach the Mississippi, but we were surprised by the execution with disastrous results. Their offensive opened with a barrage of flying bombs carrying both conventional and thermobaric warheads.’

Marshall swept with his hand over the map indicating the affected areas behind the pre-offensive front lines. ‘These were so accurate that some form of exotic technology must have been involved – we sure as Hell couldn’t have built a flying bomb accurate enough to destroy a bridge or even an airfield. Intercepts of strange radio signals prior to impacts make us suspect some sort of radio guidance system, probably aided by infiltrators – although in many cases the possibility of infiltration can be positively ruled out, which makes the matter doubly puzzling.’

‘What were the effects of these strikes?’ asked Cordell Hull.

‘They were devastating, Mr Secretary. Rear communications were disrupted for days, and many front line units found themselves starved for ammunition and fuel as a result. Key airfields were put out of action for a day or more, and the losses in planes and pilots were noticeable. We had high hopes for the RAF expeditionary forces, since their Spitfires are as a good a match for the new enemy fighter code-named Oscar as the Eagle Legion Messerschmitts. But both the RAF and the Luftwaffe legions were savaged by the flying bombs. In addition, as you might know, the Eagle Legion air Commander Colonel Hannah Reitsch was MIA and presumed captured in a reconnaissance mission the day before the offensive opened.’

‘Have the Pan-Asians confirmed her as a POW?’ asked Cordell Hull. ‘The German ambassador has been very insistent about trying to establish what happened to her.’

Woodring shook his head. ‘I’m sorry Cordell, you’ll just have to tell them we know no more than they do. Please go on, General.’

‘Yes Sir. The Pan-Asian assault proved every bit as ferocious as we had feared, and while many fought bravely our newly raised militias were unable to cope, leading to the front being completely shattered on a number of points. Their cavalry, which makes up a considerable proportion of their forces, is more mobile than our foot infantry. The enemy profited from this by performing their decisive manoeuvre with cavalry while their mechanised forces just pinned ours down. We had expected a push north-eastwards from their tank forces concentrated in northern Texas, with the aim of enveloping the southern wing of our forces screening the Denver salient. Instead, the Pan-Asians attacked Patton’s I. Armoured Corps head on, pinning it in place while their main attack, supported by artillery and most of their air power was delivered straight out of the Denver salient.’

Roosevelt hid his face in his hands. He felt like covering his ears. He didn’t want to know the full extent of the disaster.

‘The enemy has brought up additional Chinese infantry forces amounting to two complete Field Armies which opened up the way for their Mongolian Cavalry armies. Our front lines were completely overrun – the bulk of our forces in the Midwest were destroyed or made prisoner. When our lines crumbled in the north, General Patton tried to regain mobility by detaching the 7th Panzer Division of Major-General Rommel to try to stem the enemy advance towards the Mississippi. Patton himself stayed with the 1st Armored Division to face two Pan-Asian armored Corps alone. As a result, our only tank formation was virtually destroyed and Major-General Patton is missing and presumed killed in action. Apparently he led a heroic last stand.’

‘And Rommel?’ asked a deathly white Roosevelt. ‘Did he escape encirclement?’

‘His already badly depleted division came under heavy air attack as it marched north and lost many tanks. He nevertheless counterattacked on the third day of the offensive and bought time for some remnants to cross the Mississippi and try to prepare a new line. The 7th Panzer has now crossed the river and is down to fifteen tanks. And today, the 3rd Mongolian Cavalry Army established a three mile bridgehead on the eastern bank of the Mississippi south of Memphis.’


Extent of the Pan-Asian advance by mid-september

Marshall let these stark facts simmer for an instant before concluding. ‘Gentlemen, we have lost most of the forces we spent the spring and summer building up. Fresh divisions, both regular and National Guard are being raised, but given the defeat of the Royal Navy in the South China Sea, we can expect at least some Pan-Asian reinforcements. And the enemy will keep pushing until winter comes. He is now across the Mississippi and we do not have the forces to seriously contest their advance before winter. The best estimate I can give you is that we are going to loose the entire South and the Midwest up to the Appalachians before winter and overstretched supply lines force the enemy to stop. In addition, it's likely Canada will be cut in half by an enemy advance on Winnipeg.’

‘Is it all over, George?’ Roosevelt asked with a tremulous voice. ‘Can you offer us not a glint of hope?’

Marshall shook his head. ‘If we can hold the Appalachians until winter and then hold our ground until spring, then with a much shorter line and new formations in place, we might be able to repulse further enemy inroads or even counterattack – provided of course that the flow of weapons and supplies can be kept going in the face of such massive territorial losses. If this is possible, I’m not qualified to answer.’

‘Henry?’ Roosevelt asked, nodding towards Henry Morgenthau.

The Secretary of the Treasury shook his bald head. 'Mr President, our supply situation will be disastrous long before that. We have lost so much farmland, and now, it seems, the rest of the Midwest will be lost in short order. I only pray we have time to save some of the harvest before the enemy occupies it. And yet we have almost as many mouths to feed now as when the war began, because the Pan-Asians have been driving our civilian population before them. People and the land that feed them usually go hand in hand. But now, some one-hundred and thirty million people will live were about fifty million used to. Forget about oil, or iron, or bauxite, Mr President. This winter we will have a famine, and apart from food above all we will want for coal to heat whatever provisional housing we've managed to provide for the two thirds or more of our population that has been or will be displaced!'

'Can we not import foodstuffs to make good our losses of production, like we do with oil?' asked Cordell Hull. 'We still have friends in the world, we have much of our merchant marine still, and if nothing else, our gold reserves should pay for all the food we could need in the short run at least.'

'Where should we import it from?' Morgenthau asked, throwing out his hands. 'Do you know somewhere where they have an excess produce to feed eighty million people? Because I don't! Sure, we can import some, to alleviate the worst of the suffering, but our people will starve. Mr President, I'm afraid I can't see how we can keep fighting for any length of time once we've lost our breadbasket. I'm going to be the one to go ahead and say what we're all thinking - it might be time to seek whatever terms we can get from the Pan-Asians.'

'Dear God!' the President whispered. 'How did it come to this? No, Henry, I refuse to consider the possibility of defeat! Come now, General, there must be some good news too. How are our new weapons coming along?'

George Marshall nodded. 'Not badly, Mr President. The M3 project, up-gunning our M2 tanks with a long 75mm gun, has moved ahead steadily and is now ready to enter mass production.'

'I'm sorry, I haven't heard about this!' Cordell Hull said, looking slightly hurt.

'No need to know Cordell, I'm sorry!' the Secretary of War apologised. 'Engineers at the Rock Island Arsenal where the M2 is produced came up with the idea to mount a 75mm cannon in the hull of an enlarged M2. That way we can use a heavier gun without having to redesign the chassis, the turret ring AND the turret. It shaves six months, possibly more from the projected first combat deployment of our new tank. Sure, it's a stopgap, but one that will pack the heaviest firepower of any tank in the world. Not even the Russian KV heavy tank has such a long 75mm cannon. Of course', he added somewhat glumly, 'our M3 won't be nigh near invulnerable like the KV. But we will add some armor and a bigger engine too.'


The M3 medium tank was rushed into production in the fall of 1940

'Of course, Rock Island Arsenal will be overrun when... if Illinois is lost', Marshall added.

Woodrig nodded. 'Yes, but this is a top priority project. We have and are converting factories all along the East Coast. I don't know if we will loose this war, but I do know the M3 will be in the fight before it's over. In fact, we expect it to make it's combat debut in the defence of Chicago.'

'Good, good!' Roosevelt exclaimed, somewhat cheered. 'And how about our new fighter?'

Harry Woodring nodded. 'That has been the easiest improvement in our rearmament program. The British now have an excess supply of Rolls Royce Merlin aircraft engines, and have sold us two shiploads of them. We're now mounting them in what we call the P-40C, which is a P-40B with the improved engine and heavier armament. It should be able to give our pilots a fighting chance against the Oscar. And our own Alison engine, we're using for the M3 tank, so there's no need to retool any factory jigs.'

'Excellent!' Roosevelt beamed. 'I'm confident that with these new weapons, we'll be able to stand our ground before winter. Meanwhile, we need to step up the recruitment program! Thanks to that monster Siwan Khan, we have no shortage of willing recruits. Now we just need to arm them, and come next year we will have at our disposal an army to make the enemy tremble! Yes, the winter will be terrible, but we must endure if the cause of liberty is not to perish!'

The meeting continued with the usual plunge into details, roosters schedules and numbers. But when the cabinet members finally left the table, because they were intelligent and educated men, it was with the uncomfortable insight that they had been cheered by their own propaganda. Would wonder tanks and better planes be enough in the face of that dread elder foe, famine, and the plagues that were sure to follow in its wake? The Four Riders of the Apocalypse were loose in America, and none of the President's men knew how to rein them in again.​