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To me, the TSR.2 is strictly a tactical bomber. You don't really expect her to conduct a dogfight do you? :p

She isn't supposed to. Rest assured, air warfare is somewhat different in the AAO-verse, meaning that Aircraft are much less multi-role.
 
She isn't supposed to. Rest assured, air warfare is somewhat different in the AAO-verse, meaning that Aircraft are much less multi-role.

Boooo, multi-role is the way as aircraft become more expensive. My Rafale, on the contrary, will be way more omni-role than you'll ever think (so far my Rafale had displayed missile interception and nuclear strike roles). :p
 
A shame none of the F.155 madness made it through, though I concede in a world with uber-Lightnings, Arrows and TSR.2 there's even less need for them than OTL (and they were fairly barking at that stage).

Still, the Vickers 559 really should have been made because it still looks like its from the future. And isn't that reason enough to make it?
 
El Pip The 1957 Defence White Paper ( or rather it's prevention ) is one of the reasons why this AAR went so out of control. The F.155 requirement ( which I was only semi-aware of ) doesn't have a place in the AAO-verse because by the time it was issued in OTL, the AAO-verse is already busy building Supersonic Hunters. :)

As for the Vickers 559, every universe needs ridiculously expensive and even more awesome aircraft projects like the SR-71, now doesn't it?
 
As for the Vickers 559, every universe needs ridiculously expensive and even more awesome aircraft projects like the SR-71, now doesn't it?

Agreed, but personally I like the X15 over the SR71. :p

Anyways, trek, I'm starting to like your AAO-verse more than ever, because I see a world with a very large market for Mirages, even larger than the one in OTL. Need me to explain why? ;)
 
Chapter 183



8th November 1941

SOE Station Cairo

Early on the next morning Ian rose from the bunk in the room adjoining the office and put on the PT gear he grabbed from his bag and decided to go for a run like he always did in the morning before going to the Office. He had taken up running after noticing his lack of exercise onboard Severn, and it had served him well. So he decided to run around the perimeter inside the fence. Outside he was pleased to notice that he was not the first one to wake up as he could see a Squad of SAS troopers being led in exercise by a Sergeant Major of the Royal Marines, and as he began to jog around the compound he used the opportunity to get a good look at his new posting. What he had seen yesterday didn't tell half the story. The oasis was located in a low depression that was just deep enough to hide most of the buildings if the observer was standing more than two or three miles away. The perimeter itself enclosed an area that contained ten buildings of many sizes, mostly army barracks and a one two-storey building that contained the administrative Offices. To the immediate south, semi-sheltered from anyone who got this close was an assault course and firing range, even though the SAS trained with live ammunition when on the assault course. Right now another group of soldiers was on the shooting range, and he remembered Stirling saying that a group of SBS snipers was training today. On the assault course no one was currently training, but even from where he was running along the fence Ian could see the empty cartridges that were scattered all over the ground. This was however only a ground where some of the troops were trained, as most were billeted closer to the coast and trained there.

After three round around the camp, Ian walked back to his room and wasted water on washing before putting on his tropical uniform. He stepped back into his Office and found Stirling already sitting in the chair Ian had used yesterday, reading a folder that Ian had found on his desk this morning. Even though Ian was in command of the local SOE station, Stirling was his field commander, tasked with carrying out the missions if there where any, while Ian was the one to make sure that the men got what they needed. Technically this did not involve much operational planning, but Mountbatten liked his Officers to be capable of what would today be called multi-tasking, and therefore both Ian and Colonel Stirling would be involved in the planning. The folder was one of these, a 'proposed' Operation that came from GOC Middle East and that Ian's predecessor had been tasked with carrying it out before he had crashed his scav[1] into a lorry. Stirling looked up and when he saw that Ian was stepping into the Office, he said with a angry frown on his face: “This operation is a folly, a waste of men and material.” Ian had only read the brief summary at the beginning of the file, so he didn't know the full details yet. “How come, Colonel?” “These bloody Islands are inconsequential to the war [2] and yet the powers that be want it taken out. Look at it!” For the next hour Ian skipped breakfast and studied the folder while Stirling was brooding in the chair. When he studied the report and the surprisingly good intelligence groundwork, he began to see why someone wanted it taken out. He didn't know yet for how much Stirling was cleared, but he himself knew that all told it looked like there was a German Intelligence Gathering point on one of the Italian Islands in the Aegean Sea that was just close enough to monitor all the wireless traffic that came out of the British and Allied Installations in the Eastern and Central Mediterranean Sea, and since Greece was axis-leaning neutral thanks to the Authoritarian Monarchy that if he was honest offended him on a personal level, so the Germans and Italians could easily buy the Greeks looking the other way when the Germans supplied the post. From what he read here the intelligence found it's way to Berlin and Moscow via a German wireless transmitter. “It makes sense to me, Colonel.” Ian said. “It might be me speaking as an Intelligence Officer, but if the Gerries really have some sort of post there, it pays to take it out, even more so if they really use it to gather Intelligence for these bloody raids.” Stirling snorted. “True, but why don't we leave that to the bloody Air Force? They could knock that place flat easily.” Stirling could see that Ian was about to speak, but cut off the Naval Officer. “I know, I know, ours is not to reason why, but the bloody Army hasn't given me the 22nd for being stupid.” Unknown to them both however the real reason was not the Intelligence that, while valuable to the Germans, was not critical enough for an endeavour like this. The real reason was a device that resembled a typewriter. It had lights and rotors and was the centre piece of the German communication encryption system: The ENIGMA machine. At Bletchley Park British and allied code experts were cracking the machine since before the war, but had as of yet not managed to capture an actual working example, the closest they had come was a machine that had broken down after a few tries to get it to work, and when Bletchely had found out that on that little Island a working example could be found that was far away from reinforcements and was the hotly desired naval model, the SOE had been tasked with capturing the machine. Ian and Stirling only knew that five SBS patrols were to attack a small Island, grab any German equipment they could carry and get out again after blowing the whole place to kingdom come.

In the meantime Ian was coming to the back end of the folder and when he read when the Operation was to be carried out, his eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “THAT early? That's the day after tomorrow!” Stirling nodded in agreement and said then: “Mind you, I'd probably go with the lads if I weren't shot, but I even so I hate operations that have been thrown together like this. Drake was bloody lucky in Canada, and I doubt that we shall have that sort of luck forever.” “Where is he anyway?” Ian asked. “Up north near Alexandria. The lads went into Italy first thing, and they just got back.” “I see.” Ian and Sterling spent the next hours going over the plan again, and Ian could see that from his point of view it was as good as could be expected given the short length of time his predecessor had had to prepare. When he remarked as much to Stirling, the young Colonel's face grimaced as he watched the Naval Captain sitting opposite of him. Stirling knew of course that Ian had once had a mission with the Regiments in the early days of the war, and he knew that Ian had served with distinction during the convoy battles, but he didn't know if Ian's picture of the Germans was as through and real as the one 22 SAS Regiment cultivated since the Regiment had found it to be true. “The man might have been somewhat of a posh fellow, but he knew his business before he had this engagement with the lorry.” Stirling sighed and then rose from his chair to slowly walk over to the door. He stood at the only window and yelled to someone outside: “Captain! Come in if you please!” Ian heard that some orders were given outside and the door opened again. In came a man that Ian hadn't seen since years before the war. A short figure he would nevertheless have been the perfect paratrooper had he not had a stiff leg. His eyes sparkled though, he clearly knew that Ian was here. He was wearing standard paratrooper dress and the customary red cap with the SAS badge, with the unit badge of the South Essex Light Infantry on his shoulders just below the rank insignia of an Army Captain. “Captain Lennox reporting, Sir.” he said in the accent of his Scottish home. Ian rose from his chair ignored the dumbfounded Stirling as he said: “Lennie you old bastard! I haven't seen you since I left the City!”

The two men had met shortly before Ian had left his job as a banker and had joined the Navy in 1937 for a short stint before being seconded to MI6, and he had to say that the short Scotsman had not really changed. “What in the blazes are you doing here?” Lennox snorted. “Ever since Sir Henry ran to India I was without a job, and I did what everyone does, I joined the Army. Joined the Paras and later the Regiment as an instructor and promptly had to draw a new leg after an encounter with a bloody Ju-88.” The Captain knocked his hand against the wooden leg. “And if even half of what rumours are going around about you then you didn't do too badly either.” Meanwhile Stirling had recovered from the surprise. “So you two know each other. I should have known, the bloody Army is degenerating into a bloody family pick nick!” Ian looked at the Colonel, but he could see that Stirling was joking. “Anyway, Captain Lennox here will take over my job when I am healed and leave again, for the moment he is handling the training of the men in shooting and Light Infantry tactics. You see, most of the SBS folks suffer from Marines Disease, and therefore know preciously little about proper soldering.” Ian ignored the jibe at the competence of the Royal Navy and her land combat arm and rather had the men sit down. There was work to do.



Meanwhile at the same time, several hundred miles away a man was moving through the bustle of a middle-eastern city. He was dressed in the garb of one of the lower class in the western districts of the city, and he was on his way to the house of a merchant who was sympathetic to the cause. He was wearing no particular clothes, and did his best to remain inconspicuous. He was a native of a small Arabian Village a few dozen miles to the south of the ancient city. Outwardly the man was totally and perfectly normal, while what he carried in his pack was what would get him into trouble if he was caught. However no one expected any trouble, even with the turmoil that had gripped the area. He slowly made his way to his destination and inched past the British patrols that patrolled the streets. The Holy land had not made it into the news in any manner in Britain which was understandable when one considered the war and all, but the patrols of the soldiers in their Land Rovers made clear that the British were meaning business.

Upon reaching his destination he stopped and stepped into an archway that giving him an excellent view of the area. There he put down his bag and looked around. When he saw that he was not observed by passers bys and any patrolling British soldiers, he reached into the bag and took out three egg-shaped objects. He removed the pins and held the levers in place before stepping up to the edge. Down in the bit between the outer edges of the Moroccan Quarter and the Wailing Wall he saw that the congreation was praying devoutly. He grinned, stepped back and threw the three hand grenades among the assembled people.





[Notes: May the lord forgive me for what I have done......]




[1] Standard Cross-Country Army Vehicle, as a general term for cross-country vehicles of all types because the Landy is not the only form of such vehicle at this point. The above was/is the Army term for the specification as it was issued, and it will informally include all four-wheel vehicles that can go cross-country, including Landy variants.

[2] No Victory Points.
 
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nice update. would the german commandos have anything to do with that little incident? and i think the british discovered a german computer lol
 
Bloody Palestinian Terrorists! They're at it seventy years too early! :rofl:
 
Well, considering that in the 30s there were Jewish terrorists as well, maybe it's one of them...:D
 
Ack, the Middle East continues its merry little dance...
 
arya126 We will find out.

Ciryandor Well, the problem that creates them is a very old one.

ColossusCrusher But would they bomb their own holiest place ( as far as I know )?

Le Jones Winston told me a short while ago he fancied another trip to the middle east, so I made it happen. Besides, I find trying to fix that particular running sore is a challenge I couldn't pass up.
 
Le Jones Winston told me a short while ago he fancied another trip to the middle east, so I made it happen. Besides, I find trying to fix that particular running sore is a challenge I couldn't pass up.

Urrgh - I've avoided that one in KFM. The idea of Halifax trying to grapple with that? :rofl:
 
Urrgh - I've avoided that one in KFM. The idea of Halifax trying to grapple with that? :rofl:

Winston did it before, and besides, I have a rough plan of action that has IMO a good likelihood of working out.
 
Anything is possible. It's the 1940s! :D
 
Ian! Ian! Ian!.. :D

Ahem..

My guess is either the Germans trying to stir things up (using a local arab agent), the Germans supporting Arab terrorists to cause trouble for the Brits, which they would consider a good thing.. or the Arabs themselves, which would still be a good thing for the Jerries.. Either that or the Brits are trying to be clever, but I just can't see that happen in this way.. Of course, you never know..
 
ColossusCrusher :D

Doge Robert I of course know what is going on.....
 
I ment more that I have not the foggiest what is goin to happen a few months down the road, at least in detail. The grand scheme of things is still following the game.
 
Chapter 184

The next day


Jerusalem

The city was all but on fire. It had not taken long for the news of the bombing of the Wailing Wall to race through the Jewis Quarters of the city, and now a drastic reversal of the 1929 riots took place. The Bomber's associates had stirred up hatred and discontent all over the city for weeks and months, and now they were reaping in what they had sown, and armed groups of both faiths were clashing in the streets of Jerusalem, with the British troops of the 123rd Indian Infantry Brigade helplessly in the middle trying to keep the peace. Any observer would have instantly noticed that the riots were not coordinated, this was not like the Quebec uprising, but both sides were armed to the teeth, and it wasn't an hour before the first firefights between Jewish and Arab groups broke out. Roving bands targetted the neighbourhoods of the other side, and unlike in 1929 most of the Jewish Quarters returned fire, and when night fell, gunfire, screams and fighting could be heard all over the city. Unlike it had been during the 1929 riots this time rumours about deaths and killings proved to be well funded, and by the time the Prime Minister was informed in London, the fire of hatred had spread throughout most of central Palestine, and the violence promised to spread further. In the Old City of Jerusalem meanwhile the Muslim and Jewish Quarters of the district were under siege by militias of the other side, with the Jews taking up arms en masse, unlike the last time.


The British Authorities found themselves out of their depth and proved to be unable to really handle the situation. The British Army was spread thin in the Mediterranean Sea, most units were fighting in Italy, the British Police Force in the Mandate Area was busy holding the fort and trying not to be ground to dust between the two sides. The 123rd Brigade meanwhile tried to get the situation in Jerusalem back under control, but one Brigade with orders to avoid civilian casualties was simply not up to the task. More men were needed, and yet none were to be had, and when General Brooke as GOC Middle East asked for the some of the third echelon units for the front in Italy to be temporarily transferred to his command to deal with the flames in Palestine. Meanwhile word of what had happened, or rather what everyone thought had happened spread to the rest of the mandate area, even though Transjordan remained calm and the French had a tight grip on their own mandate area. In Palestine itself though, communities of every form hunkered down and tried to weather the storm as well as possible and even though violence never spread far past the major population centres and the area between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, it rumours about Jewish or respectively Arab armed bands that roamed the countryside led many to fire blindly into the night, to shoot at people that were perfectly innocent. When the next day dawned, the streets were in the hand of the mob, save for the area in the southern part of Jerusalem where the British-Indian Brigade had it's headquarters and where they could easily police the streets, but the rest of the city was a lawless zone, with only the local British police stations being islands of relative calm and security.

This was the situation when the Prime Minister had assembled the war cabinet in the bunker as early as possible. The faces that stared back at Churchill over the long meeting table were as tired and weary as his own, and yet he was the one who had the clearest picture of what was going on, the ministers of the War Cabinet only being informed just now. The briefing was conducted by a man from the Foreign Office who had reportedly the best Middle East Department. Anthony Eden was not present at the moment, he was still rushing back from the Palace where he had attended a dinner with the French Ambassador in Churchill's stead who had claimed to be ill, but was in reality simply fed up with the stubborn French. Eden's second in Command was a leftover from the previous administration and had so far been proven to be a good and solid civil servant. But now he was beginning to fall out of favour with the Prime Minister when he said: “Sir, we must consult the League of Nations representative.....” “We must NOTHING! The League of Nations is dead, Sir!” Churchill bellowed, and slammed his fist down on the table. “This is our responsibility now.”

“But...but.. the League..” Churchill sighed and said in a voice that told those that knew him that he was going to explode if pressed any further in this direction.

“The League is dead, as dead as a bloody doornail! What good was the bloody League before the war? Did it stop the Germans after the Rhineland or Austria? Did it stop the Germans from bullying the Czechs or the Poles? No, Sir! The League never was anything but a debating club for well-meaning but naïve Gentlemen like yourself, and never ammounted to anything! The League is dead and will not be resurrected[1]. Not by this administration. The mess in Palestine is at least partially our fault, and by god we will at least TRY to fix it for good this time!”

The members of the War Cabinet knew the PM well enough not to speak up now, and simply said nothing. Right at this moment Eden stepped into the room, still dressed in the dinner jacket he had worn to the Palace, but his bow tie was undone and he was already smoking one of his last pre-war Cuban Cigars. He took the place of the Civil Servant who had a suitably ashamed look on his face and turned to the PM. “Sir, my people have brought me up to speed on the way here, and I have his Majestie's complements and he asks if he can be of any help.” Churchill just nodded and turned back to the rest of the table. “Gentlemen, we have to act fast. If we don't, we might have a civil war on our hands that makes Canada look like a pub brawl, and we cannot afford it even during peacetime, let alone when we are fighting in Italy. I am not going to ask you for any policy right now, but I must ask you to go to your respective ministries right now and get me your recommendations within the next four hours. Speed is of the essence, and therefore we must act fast. Commander,” he said, addressing his aide de camp, “have the Imperial General Staff wake up Marshal Gort if they haven't already and tell him to send what units he can send to the area without asking for approval, just fast. Have him advise our local commanders to avoid casualties if possible, but our troops may defend themselves.” “Yes, Sir.” The RNR Commander left and Churchill said: “Well then, I won't keep you any further. I will be here for the day, so call on me as soon as you have prepared your recommendations.”

The War Cabinet shuffled out of the room and Churchill decided that he better have something to eat brought in, and while he waited for the dreary war-time food, his mind wandered back to the time when he had been in Palestine himself to flesh out an agreement and to the days when the Shaw report had been issued in 1929, and most importantly to the 1939 White Paper on Palestine that in retrospect wasn't the best of ideas considering what was going on in occupied Europe. Now neglect, rash decisions and ignorance were coming back with a vengeance and forced his hand, something he had wanted to avoid until after the war. Forcing the hand, forcing him and by extension HM Government to act was something that had happened all too often over the last few years, especially in the Middle East, and this always had repercussions later. The Middle East was a running sore ever since the First World War had ended, and Churchill had to admit that the whole situation had been mishandled from the beginning. This was not all though, because before the War Cabinet had assembled he had had another meeting with the head of the SIS and Commodore Mountbatten of the Special Operations Executive, and the two men had given their opinion too, such as it was with the information at hand. Neither had any inkling about this being an Intelligence Operation by the enemy, but Mountbatten had observed that if it was it was a long-term project, probably using sleeper agents that had been in place for a long time, and those were almost impossible to detect by definition. The idea of more time bombs like these going off in the various parts of the Empire that were still less than fully stable was too nightmarish to contemplate, so the Prime Minister did not do so. The whole mess was something that he would have loved to delegate, but Palestine was a matter old and delicate enough to warrant the attention of the highest authority, and since Palestine was a British Mandate, this duty fell to the British Empire. He reached for several file folders that lay on the desk. One was from the Foreign Office, several from the Colo..Empire Office and one had curiously found it's way from the Administration of the mandate in question onto the Prime Minister's desk via a subsection of the War Office. He had read them all, and none were close to what he wanted. None gave a satisfying solution to the problems that plagued the holy land, all had been discussed at length in the various Ministries and in the Cabinets over the years, and all had been discarded on various grounds. Churchill had been amongst those who had argued against a Jewish state after the Balfour declaration of 1917, in fact the PM himself had written a White Paper to that effect in 1922, and he still felt that a unified Palestine state was in the best interest of all, but what if it was not meant to be? What if history was doomed to repeat itself and that area of the world was in turn doomed to tear itself apart in wars, civil strife and violence until the end of time? Both sides had legitimate grievances, and both sides claimed the land as their own.

The Jews wanted a state, the Arabs wanted a state, and neither side seemed to be much willing to live in peace with the other, and that was something that gave anyone who was tasked with solving that problem and who had half a brain bloody nightmares. One thing was certain, another commission was the very least that had to be done, and it was one that had to give a thorough and true picture of the situation and he felt it in his bones already that his personal attention would probably be required if both sides could be made to actually talk with each other instead of bashing each other's heads in. Whatever happened, it would influence the area for the foreseeable future.


[Notes: In case you have forgotten, this is not a national Government, not after the last election.]

[1] Unlike OTL, the League did not transfer emergency powers to the Secretary General, and therefore no one really knows if it still exists or not. Some like the Civil Servant think it does, some like the PM think it doesn't, and that has just become the official position of the British Empire on the matter.
 
it w2as obviously ineffective anyway. the same as the united nations. worthless. except the united nations has the might of the usa (or in TTL be the british) so they can keep the general peace most of the time. until russia attacks..and they will..