For King and Country

[El Pip]

It's easy to see a strong French as a liability today, but that wasn't the case in the 1930's. Of course, the best thing that can happen for the empire at this point is every last person on the continent of Europe dropping dead. Barring that nightmare (well, nightmare for anyone with a conscience, but the British observe their newborns and any showing symptoms of a conscience are thrown off a cliff), the next best thing is continuous civil wars in France, Germany, Russia, and any other place that would like to strike the Union Jack off Westminster.

Now you're just being silly. The British Empire was built on trade and you can't sell anything to dead people, well except coffins and wreaths I suppose. But even then it's not a market with a long term future.

Trying to pick a point out from your frothing abuse a strong France isn't advisable at any point due to the inherent unreliabilty of the French. It may be usefull if things go badly wrong, but the aim of the Empire should be to avoid things getting that bad.

The Soviet Union was one of the main reasons Germany lost the war, that doesn't mean a strong Russia was a good thing. Usefull yes, something anybody wanted no. The same applies to France

[therev]

The problem is the French have the natural gratitude of... well the French.

ElPip - I love your understatement!

I agree that The King and his cabinet would find a military dictatorship more preferable given recent events ITTL. I also think though that there is no real solutionto the French issue - no matter what replaces the Socialists. Royalist, Military, even Democratic - the French are just so..... French!

Maybe reclaiming what is historically British lands on the mainland, and sharing the rest of France with Italy, Spain, Switzerland, Belgium, Germany and Luxembourg might offer a solution.

[Draco Rexus]

Some feedback to feedback, folks:

Storey - That's twice you've solved the unwritten quiz, Joe. Either you're really, really smart or you've got the experience of age.

stnylan - Welcome aboard, officially, and thanks. I love it when of some of my favorite writAARs drop by to discuss my own AAR. It makes me think that I might actually be doing something right.

Maximilliano - Your wait will soon be over.

BigBadWolf - ah, c'mon, it wasn't all that bad. Besides, the King did spend his formulative years about ships of the Royal Navy and we all know how old salts talk, don't we?

GhostWriter - many thanks!

Cloudyvortex -
Actually, the Empire is not encouraging anything, it is simply providing the people the chance to see the true colors of their government and allowing them the choice to do something about it. Of course, if those decisions in any way assist the safety of the Empire at insignificant cost to the Empire, well that's all well nice and fine, isn't it?

Sir Humphrey - thanks much, Humps!

Lucidor - at least the Third Republic.

VILenin - oh, there is a good deal of attachment to the ideas of Democracy, that's why the Crown is assisting these various misguided nations in Europe to find the the right form of democracy, i.e. the British way. That being said, Realpolitik, while mayhap not fair, does do wonders for the safety of one's own nation, and at the end of the day, that's what matters most, eh?

El Pip - when you have a to chose between two evils, which one do you take? Considering the Crown's very reasonable animosity toward Communism and Communists in general, we can see that it really wasn't that hard a decision, can we not?

As for the French and their gratitude, well, just wait and see how it works out.

Cloudyvortex (part two) - Realisticaly, having a strong France with close ties to the Empire would be a good thing, that way the Crown can have a large and capable buffer between the British Isles and the rest of Europe, but we deal with what we are dealt and go from there, eh? Actually though, while the Crown is currently having issues with certain governments in Europe, economically, the Empire is having a good time, so it's all good at this point.

but the British observe their newborns and any showing symptoms of a conscience are thrown off a cliff

Gee, you make that sound like it's not only a bad thing, but also that the Empire is peopled by some very mean persons. Neither would be further from the truth. The Empire just has some very... ah... clear minded persons.

El Pip (part two) - You are quite correct when it comes to the foundation of the Empire, something that is unconsciously working in the back of the King's head... after all, it's quite hard to do business with a government (and thus a country) that does not believe in business (capitalism) eh? And while nobody wants a strong Soviet Union, a strong non-communist France is wanted very badly by the Empire, as I've said above, if nothing else than to be the cannon fodder that keeps the rest of Europe away from the shores of the British Isles.... oops, there I go again showing the Empire's utter lack of concern for people that aren't British!

therev - While I like the way your mind works, breaking up France at this point isn't worth the effort. Besides, England is still having to deal with the idea of the Dominions being just as important to the Crown as Jolly Olde Englande herself, and you want to add Frog lands to the mix on top of that? I mean, it's just a generation and a half, maybe two back that these two nations were out for each other's blood remember.



Okay folks, I'm gonna try to have the Third Republic's... ah...outcome sometime today, so stay tuned, eh?

[Draco Rexus]

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The End of the French Third Republic

August 16, 1937
Paris
11:00 p.m.

Looking out over the skyline of the premier city of his beloved country as it soaked the beams of the moon that hung high in the sky, the old soldier sighed heavily and again sent a pray of thanks Heavenward that the number of plumes of smoke floating upward from about the city were as few as they were.

While he knew that some of Blum’s Front Populaire and most of Thorez’s blasted Communists were diehards bordering on fanatically suicidal, and he had planned on that, he was still somewhat shocked at just much his fellow Frenchmen could be. Each plume of smoke that marred Paris’ skyline marked a place where Frenchmen, firm in their convictions, fought to the death to preserve the decrepit and false Third Republic. The old soldier, no stranger to death nor danger, shed no tear for the death of those fanatics, but he was angered and did shed a few tears over how many of his supporters it had taken to subdue those extremist fools.

Turning on his heel and striding off the balcony and back into the room that had served as his command post during the coup, he put those thoughts behind him and focused on the completion of his takeover. As he reached his desk and began to pull out his chair to sit, the door leading to his secretary’s area opened and he watched as his two military underlings strode in with grins upon their faces.

“Yes, gentlemen?”

“Marshal,” the French Navy’s leading admiral announced, “I have just received notice from Toulon, Brest, La Rochelle, and Le Havre. The entire Fleet has come over and has pledged itself to serve you!”

“Very good, Admiral Darlan, very good indeed,” said Marshal Philippe Pétain with a satisfied smile upon his face. Looking over at Darlan’s colleague, Pétain asked, “And you, General Giraud, what news do you bring to me?”

Handing over a sheet of paper, Giraud answered, “Marshal, except for those units committed to Blum, the Army is yours. The only fighting in the cities remaining has been contained to a few neighborhoods here in Paris and a few neighborhoods near Marseille.”

“And in the countryside, Henri?”

Looking a little less exuberant, Giraud replied, “We have a few battalion commanders who have thrown in their lot with Blum and the Communists, and their commands have responded to varying degrees. There are two main groups, one in the south and on in the east. The southern group, lead by Colonels Jacques de Bernonville and Pierre Brossolette, is made up of three battalions each one at any where of forty to sixty percent strength and has commandeered the city of Arles in Bouches-du-Rhone. The eastern group consists of five battalions, including one Armée de l'Air fighter squadron, answering to Major Georges Guingouih and Captain Jean-Pierre Lévy. They are concentrated around Vesoul in the Haute-Saône département.”

“At what strength are Guingouih and Lévy’s battalions,” Pétain inquired as he placed his fists on his desk top and leaned toward his two subordinates.

Consulting his notes, Giraud replied, “From the information provided by the men who came over to our side, Marshal, all five battalions are at less than fifty percent strength and the aero squadron retained only enough pilots and ground crews to put five planes in the air.”

“We must crush them or convince them to surrender as quickly as possible! What is being done to accomplish this,” the aged hopeful leader of a new France demanded as he sank into his chair.

“A Captain Philippe Leclerc de Hauteclocque is leading an armoured and infantry battalion combat team toward Vesoul, and should actually be moving into the area now, Marshal,” Darlan answered.

“And as for Bernonville and Brossolette’s men, sir,” Giraud continued, “Lieutenant de vaisseau Henri Honoré d'Estienne d'Orves of the Navy has gathered a force of seamen and marines from the naval base in Toulon and were attacking Arles as of two hours ago.”

“Good, very good,” Pétain said as he leaned back in his chair. Looking at the two men standing before him, he hesitated several seconds before asking, “And our plans for de Gaulle?”

Fighting to hold a grimace of his face, Darlan answered tightly, “While I still do not agree with your decision, Marshal, I did as you ordered. I also informed him to stay at the chateau when we began our course of action, however, he left shortly after we departed, according to Lt. Dubois.”

“Admiral,” Pétain growled ominously, his anger not diminished by his age, “I understand your animosity toward our supporters on the other side of the Channel, and I can to a certain degree understand de Gaulle’s, but regardless of that, when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed! If that Anglophobe does something that jeopardizes our relations with the British with is gallivanting about Paris, there will be Hell to pay!”

“I completely understand, Marshal,” Darlan replied with out backing down, “and I can honestly say that I had nothing to do with his leaving of the chateau.”

“Do either one of you know where he actually is and what he might be doing,” the aged general barked.

Before either man could respond the door leading into Pétain’s office opened and de Gaulle walked in flanked by the Marshal’s secretary, two of his aides and the Marshal’s main bodyguard. Marching up to flank the two senior officers, the colonel came to a stiff attention and saluted smartly to Pétain. “Marshal Pétain, I have news to report!”

Looking at the young colonel with a degree of distaste that he could no longer hide effectively, the Marshal waved de Gaulle’s salute away with a flick of his hand. With eyes boring into the younger man, Pétain rumbled, “I believe you were ordered to stay at the chateau, Colonel de Gaulle. What is the meaning of your presence in my headquarters without leave?”

“But Marshal,” de Gaulle protested, completely missing the older man’s look of distaste, “I bring news of our success! The resistance to our take over has been over come both here in Paris as well as in Bouches-du-Rhone and in Haute-Saône!”

While Darlan and Giraud reached toward each other and grasped each other’s hands in celebration, Pétain continued to lean back in his chair and study the young colonel standing before him, nearly quivering in excitement and with a burning intensity in his eyes that disturbed the older officer. Bringing is seat back forward and placing his elbows on the top of his desk, it was clear that he had made a decision. “That is good news, Colonel, good news indeed.”

Looking at his tow aides standing behind de Gaulle, the Marshal ordered, “Stephen, inform Mr. Laval to have his papers and radio stations release our story immediately and then have him begin gathering his people at the Palais Bourbon so we can start having the Assemblée nationale* put the new government together. Jacques, send out a message to all commands that I am in control until the new government is on its feet and as such, all orders will come from my chain of command. After that, get word out to our people to start fleshing out our new government with Mr. Laval’s people. And if anyone has a dispute with my decisions, bring them to me personally.”

Palais Bourbon - home of the Assemblée nationale

Focusing his eyes coldly back upon Colonel de Gaulle, Pétain continued, “Which brings me back to you, Colonel. Up to this point, I have overlooked you animosity and out right discourteousness toward certain supporters of our cause. And in regards to certain small points, I even agree with you.”

Pausing and watching as his comments registered with de Gaulle, Darlan and Giraud, the Marshal continued in a calm but cold voice. “That does not, however, give you any excuse to flaunt that animosity in the face of our supporters nor allow your discourteousness to not only antagonize our “friends” but also those here in France who do not agree with you. In addition, no matter how valuable you are, or think you are, to our cause, I cannot nor will not condone your disobeying an order, especially one that I gave. While normally such an infraction would result in a court-martial, in light of your dubious contribution to our cause, I have come up with a different solution. Therefore,” Pétain continued while the color fled from de Gaulle’s face and Giraud and Darlan watched on with disquiet, “I am giving you promotion to Général de brigade and appointing you the military detachment commander for Guiana.”

With a look on his face that clearly shouted that he did not understand what was happening, de Gaulle said tonelessly, “Guiana, sir? But that is in South America.”

“Very good, Général,” Pétain replied sarcastically, “I’m glad to find that Saint-Cyr still teaches geography.”

Looking toward Giraud and Darlan for support and finding those two officers looking slightly to the left and a little above the Marshal’s head, de Gaulle protested, “Marshal, I belong here in France, not in that hell hole!”

“Général de Gaulle,” the new leader of France retorted with emphasis, “as a serving officer in the French Army, you go were you are ordered, where France needs you, not where you desire.”

“I protest! I demand an assignment here in France,” the younger officer barked vehemently and clearly forgetting with whom he was speaking.

The wolfish grin on Pétain’s face was almost instantaneously replaced by a very angry scowl. “There is already one order you have deliberately broken, Général, and now you are close to breaking a second. There will not be third. You can either go to Guiana as the military commandant or you can be shipped there as future resident of L'île du Diable.”** Looking over de Gaulle’s shoulder, the Marshal spoke to his bodyguard, “Michael, have an escort arranged for the Général and have him escorted to the chateau until such time that transport can be organized.”

“Yes sir,” the bodyguard said as he stepped up to place his left hand on de Gaulle’s arm while his right hand came to a rest upon the handle of his holstered sidearm. “Général?”

Straightening his back and snatching his arm out of the bodyguard’s grasp, de Gaulle reached for his own sidearm, his anger burning away clear common sense. He had just unsnapped the cover for his holster when he heard a metallic click from behind him and realization of who he was with and what he was doing came flooding back to him. A cold voice came from just beyond the area where he had heard the click, speaking softly, “Général, you can either go to Guiana, L'île du Diable, or you can go to hell when I squeeze this trigger and put a bullet in you brain, it is your choice. Now take your hand off that pistol butt and start praying that Marshal Pétain may give you another chance, for I will not, is that understood?”

Glancing over his shoulder as he swiftly raised his hand away from this holster, de Gaulle found himself looking past the business end of a large handgun and into the very cold and very deadly eyes of the Marshal’s bodyguard. Using his left hand to undo his belt and allow his holstered pistol drop to the floor, he stepped three steps to the right of the discarded weapon, his eyes never coming into contact with anything other than the bodyguard’s eyes that never moved as he put his own gun away and fell back into his parade rest position. Glancing past the Marshal’s secretary and allowing his eyes to linger on Giraud and Darlan, the somewhat cowed and newly promoted Général realized that his choices were between a foreseeable future in misery or a foreseeable hellish existence on L'île du Diable, de Gaulle knowing that the British were behind this and vowing to find some form of vengeance, straightened his shoulders and looking Pétain directly in the eye said as haughtily as possible, “I will go to Guiana as its new military commandant, Marshal Pétain.”

“Very good, Général, I expected nothing less.”

Turning on his heel at the clearing the bodyguard’s throat, de Gaulle marched toward the door, and with out a backward glance, walked out never looking back, his mind busy finding ways as to how this latest disaster in his life and the history of France was the fault of the British Empire. Waiting until de Gaulle was out of the office, Pétain nodded toward his secretary who walked over to the sideboard by his desk and began pouring three glasses of wine. Looking at his two subordinates and seeing the shock on their faces despite their best attempts to keep it hidden, the Marshal said softly, “Gentlemen, as I informed that young man, while I take issue with his animosity he is entitled to it, however, I will not stand for disobedience due to a case of over inflated personal ego. Général de Gaulle is lucky I am in a genial mood, otherwise he would have found himself as the lowest man on the pecking order at L'île du Diable or as the sole inhabitant of Île Juan da Nova *** out in the Indian Ocean. He is even luckier that Michael simply didn’t shoot him. But enough of that.”

Accepting the glass of wine handed to him by his secretary and holding it aloft as Giraud and Darlan mirrored his actions, the new leader of the nation of France, Marshal Philippe Pétain, announced, “Gentlemen, I give you the Fourth Republic! Viva la France!”

“Viva la France!”



* - National Assembly

** - Devil’s Island : A rocky, palm-covered island that 131 ft high located just off the Coast of French Guiana, location of a French penal colony accessible only by boat or by cutting a path through dense jungle. See Henri Charrière’s Papillon for more info.

*** - Juan de Nova Island: A flat, tropical island in the narrowest part of the Mozambique Channel, about one-third of the way between Madagascar and Mozambique, about three and a quarter miles long and just under one mile at its widest, serves as a radio relay station.






Next up.... some number crunching (so to speak) by popular demand... but done in an interesting way (I hope! )

[kenneththegreat]

It's Vive La France, silly!

[Lord E]

Jolly great set of updates during the last week Draco, great work. It was cool to read the ending of Operation Mercury and also to see what happened in France. I am glad to see de Gaulle taken care off, and I ma sure he will do “well” in South-America Great work

[stnylan]

Quite a few tempers boiling over there, but good to see de Gaulle get a poisoned chalice. I suppose it is too much to hope for that he will die of malaria or something on his foreign assigment. That man is destined I feel to become a serious thorn in Britain's side. Petain may yet have cause to regret his geniality. Of course, he may also yet have cause to regret his 'allies'.

[GeneralPaisley]

Yay! De Gaulle is rotting in Guiana.....There IS a God!

[El Pip]

I think stnylan has hit the nail on the head. De Gaulle will be back in some annoying and inept form to ruin a perfectly good British plan.

Until he is dead I will continue to worry about him, even when he is dead I will insist on a body, DNA testing and cremation. Not that I dislike or distrust the man of course, just a precaution.

[BigBadWolf]

Oh, no... This can't be the end of poor De Gaulle...
No, I'm sure you have some evil work for him to do in the future...

[Draco Rexus]

kenneththegreat - I was gonna fix that, but then I decided I'm not gonna bother, mayhap it'll get more people to notice and comment, eh?

Lord E - thanks much, my friend.

stnylan - Thank you, I worked hard on that and was hoping it came out okay, your comments confirmed I hit what I was aiming for. Thanks much.

GeneralPaisley - AMEN!

El Pip - I can see you rational for that precaution!

BigBadWolf - Mayhap, mayhap... if he survives his little tour of Guiana, eh?



One and all, readAARs and lurkAARs: Gee, you guys really don't like Charles or anything, do you? <smirk> Never fear, de Gaulle will be out of the picture for awhile... mayhap forever, who knows? I did want to make a point though, I don't want anyone to think that I have something personally against the French, well that's not quite true, but suffice to say, I'm not gonna be bashing the French just for fun, only when they (as the AI) do something really stupid. Unfortunately, that just happens to have happened quite a bit so far in this AAR and in my game.

Okay, I'm done with that... next up, some number crunching posts (by popular demand) as soon as I finish putting them altogether. Stay tuned!

[prussiablue]

I really enjoy that. Can actually feel De Gaulle's anger in your writing. The problem with Charles is that he thinks too much of himself. A bit like Mourinho* for those of you who know what I mean.

[Dead William]

Hmm, Viva la France... I might expect that in a football stadium but in the President's office....

Nice update. Personaly I would have put ol' Charley boy in the Bight of Benin. One comes out where six men go in... A few more came out at this time, but that is one unhealthy climate. (No penecilin, remember) And I would never let scum like De Gaulle on Devil's Island, he might sit on the Captain's bench!

Feel the dislike of most of the AAR community, Charley!

I really enjoy that. Can actually feel De Gaulle's anger in your writing. The problem with Charles is that he thinks too much of himself. A bit like Mourinho* for those of you who know what I mean.

Ok, I wikid. Is this the football manager?

DW

[Vann the Red]

Nicely done, Draco, in setting the French back on their proper path (cannon fodder for the Empire, that is).

Eagerly anticipating the 'number crunching' as you call it.

Vann

[VILenin]

de Gaulle got off pretty likely considering the stupidity of some of the things he did (like trying to draw his pistol on Petain ). He did get promoted, after all, even if he is commanding some worthless patch of jungle. At least the French government seems to know their place vis-a-vis Britain, for the moment anyways. Now bring on the numbers!

[Maximilliano]

de Gaulle kicked out of France and Petain's coup de etat... you are a marvelous writer, i look forward to your number crunching

[HateThemCommies]

The problem with Charlie was he was like a French Mussolini without the cool hat

[GhostWriter]

...“..Assemblée nationale*.”

..“..while I take issue with his animosity he is entitled to it, however, I will not stand for disobedience due to a case of over inflated personal ego..”..

while i will admit that i have no idea why De Gaulle was so anti-English (this includes anti-American), he was (as far as i know) the most egotistical of the French officers. that makes him comparable to Montgomery, MacArthur, and Mark Clark. i am not aware of a German or Soviet equivalent thereto... (probably, they were snagged by the "state police".)

that said, i do appreciate his loyalty to France! ! !

excellent update! ! ! !

oh, should that be Assemblée Nationale

[Draco Rexus]

Actually, I took that line directly from a encyclopedia's text, and while I thought it looked wrong, I didn't tinker with in case the French actually have it that way... but why I would have no idea.


I'm trying to get the next post up, but work is becoming bothersome. They actually are expectin' me to get some work done within a reasonable amount of time versus when I get around to getting it done! Sheesh, you'd think they were payin' me or somethin'... oh, crap. They are payin' me!

Well, when you take the King's coin, you do the King's bidding, so as soon as I get that work done (should be by the end of this morning if I'm lucky!) I'll get the first post up of my "number crunching" on some new tech for the Empire.

[Draco Rexus]

CHAPTER NINETEEN - PART ONE

London
December 9, 1937
Early evening

The pub was busy with the crowd of bureaucrats from the various institutions of the British Empire that were located throughout the neighborhood. The man who sat in a corner table smoking a cigar and scanning the afternoon edition of The Times thought without humor that in his own country, these same bureaucrats would be heading home for supper with their families. In England, however, they stopped off at the pub for a pint or two before heading home, which was another reason why he hated the assignment that he was on. The British as a people just didn’t have their priorities straight, which the recent resurgence notwithstanding, would cause their so-called “glorious” Empire to fall to whoever was strong enough or smart enough to inherit their mantle. Taking his cigar out of his mouth to exhale a cloud of smoke and turn to the next page of the paper, the man felt with all the certainty of an assured man that it would be his nation that assumed that mantle. What that would mean for his British “cousins” he did not care, and despite the feeling of some of his superiors, he could only hope that it happened within his lifetime and prove to be painful.

The man’s eyes never made it back to the paper for his contact, his man within the Empire that was giving him all sorts of wonderful information on the British military, came striding through the front door. He was a somewhat drab man, perfectly suited for his bureaucratic life, the cigar smoker thought to himself. In fact, he could be a mid-level civil servant in any Western nation’s government, with the only thing setting him apart being the somewhat haughty tone of his voice when he spoke to anyone he felt was below him. And that anyone was including the cigar smoker, a fact that irritated him to no end. As the bureaucrat slid into the seat across from the cigar smoker and placed his attaché case under the table, the cigar smoker growled, “You’re late.”

“Sorry, chum, but I had to take some extra precautions,” the bureaucrat replied as he signaled for an ale from one of the pub’s many waitresses. “It seems that MI-5 has discovered a leak and is attempting to plug it.”

Grunting with irritation the cigar smoker replied, “I don’t care what your MI-5 is up to, Billy-boy, I don’t want you late, that messes up things on my end and I don’t like messes, you understand?”

Shooting the cigar smoker a haughty look and speaking in the tone that he knew set the other man on edge, the Englishman retorted, “I have to be extremely circumspect, chum, this little job is extremely dangerous and I would like to walk out of it alive, it it’s all the same to you!”

Leaning forward aggressively while slapping his hand on the top of the table and ignoring the looks of the patrons closest to the pair, the cigar smoker growled around his cigar, “I don’t give a good goddamn what you want, Billy-boy. You are being paid, and paid handsomely, to deliver your information to me and if you can’t do that, you not only won’t be getting paid, I’ll come looking for what you have been paid, you hear?”

Softly jerking himself back out of the haze of cigar smoke, the Englishman seemingly wilted under the other man’s gaze. “Yes, I understand.”

Maintaining his gave upon the bureaucrat, the cigar smoker said coldly, “Good. I’m glad I’ve made myself clear. Now, what d’ya have for me today?”

“The last couple of months of troop musterings as well as and new armour design for the War Ministry, deployment of a new wing of fighters and two new aircraft designs for the Air Ministry,” the Englishman replied with meekness and no apparent concern that he was selling secrets on the defense of his country to a foreign agent.

Unable to hide a gleam of greed at the information he was about to take custody of, the cigar smoker leaned back and nudged an attaché case next to his left leg over to the bureaucrat. “Your usual payment is enclosed. You know how to reach me when you have more information.”

The man then stood up and picking up the attaché case the Englishman had originally put down, walked away from the table and then out the door. He never once looked back, his mind working hard on what information was in the case he was carrying, so he never saw the satisfied hunter’s look on the face of the Englishman as he watched the cigar smoker walk out the pub’s front door, nor did he notice the two men who followed him out.






The number crunching comes up soon...