In the Age of Superpowers

SovietAmerika: You said "oh well" to Wood being president instead of Harding, which suggests disappointment about the change, and I'm surprised anyone would prefer Harding over... basically anyone.

Kaiser_Mobius: I left the outcome of the war largely in the hands of the AI. Unfortunately, the AI seemed to pick option_a 100% of the time, regardless of the "ai_chance" line, so I had to turn to... other methods.

Nikolai: Heh, you may have noticed I left it on a rather deliberate cliffhanger. :closedeyes:


Chapter II - Hail to Thee in Victor's Crown - Part V

The army's planned crackdown of the general strike was envisioned to be country-wide in its scope, testifying both the rapidity of the army's recovery from the crushing defeats of 1918 and the extent of working class resentment toward the government due to hyperinflation. The soldiers who marched toward the strikers' barricades in Paris, in Lyon, in Bordeaux, and elsewhere had performed similar actions in the previous two years again and again, and many had grown especially adept at breaking through picket lines and brawling with stubborn workers. Many of these men were veterans of the Great War, survivors hardened by the devastation of battle or embittered by their time in German concentration camps. Many had chosen, often insisted, to remain in the armed forces; as trying as military life was, in many instances it was a vast improvement over the prospect of unemployment and homelessness facing millions of other, discharged men. When hyperinflation destroyed the wage system, army life, with guaranteed rations, shelter, uniforms, and power over others, became one of the most desirable jobs imaginable.

As the army was called in again and again to break strikes, resentment naturally grew. But in many instances, so too did understanding. As much as a soldier might hate a worker for forcing him to use violence to disperse an angry mob, suffering the insults and injuries all in the name of serving France, sympathy was present. In many instances, the people these soldiers were sent against were their family, their friends, or their former comrades in arms. After all, the workers merely wanted a decent wage and a decent life, free of the ineptitude and insensitivity of the government that had lost the war. During the tense standoff in the three days between their arrival and the order to attack, soldiers began fraternizing with the workers, reminiscent of the remarkable Christmas meeting between German and French soldiers in 1914.

It was a scene played out a thousand times all across France. Soldiers would rise in the early morning to the call of their officers. Receiving their instructions to break the strike, the soldiers would form up, marching with weapons at the ready and fixed bayonets toward the barricades the workers set up. Caught unprepared, workers would hurry up to the picket lines, arming themselves as best they could with a hodge-podge of firearms, machine tools, and loose debris. The officers would loudly proclaim the government's order to disperse. A stony silence would follow, soldiers and workers glowering across a no-man's land, brandishing weapons. A second warning would be given, again unheeded. The order to take aim rang up, rifles snapping to attention. A brief pause, then the order to fire. There the story diverged.

In some places, shots rang out. Lined up like a firing squad, the soldiers' fired with deadly accuracy. Workers fell dead and injured, blood flowed. Chaos would erupt as the firing continued with automatic precision. Men and women ran for cover, fighting back as best they could. Soldiers would advance, wielding the bayonet and butt of their rifles to clear away any obstacles. But in many places, too many for any general's liking, the soldiers heard their order to fire and hesitated. The workers might flinch and recoil, expecting the worst, only to be met by eerie silence as the soldiers continued to look down the sights of their weapons. The order to fire would be repeated, in varying degrees of anger and violence depending on the officer in command. Some men turned their guns upon their leaders, others simply put aside their guns and seized their commanding officers, accompanied by the cheers of the stunned and emboldened strikers.

All across France the crackdown unraveled, and pandemonium erupted in Foch's headquarters in Paris. News flooded in at an overwhelming pace. Pitched battles broke out across the country; worker against soldier, soldier against soldier. Some regions were cleared without trouble, while others had gone ominously quiet. Smoke billowed over the cities and great industrial plants of the nation, and gunfire echoed in the air as if it were the Great War all over again. The worst disturbances rocked central France, a thin band running south from the Channel ports to Paris, then across toward Lyon and down to Marseille. By noon of the first day, Foch and Petain knew their plan had backfired stupendously. Instead of a general strike, the generals now faced a revolutionary civil war.

The events that unfolded on March 5, 1921 are too great and chaotic to be recounted here. Fighting continued the next day, by which time opposing forces began to coalesce in organized fashion. The army had fractured into three groups: loyalists battling the strikers and still obeying the high command's orders, the revolutionaries who cooperated with or protected the strikers from attack, and the deserters, who wanted no part in the turmoil enveloping the nation. Paris remained a war zone, but revolutionary soldiers and workers had seized control of Brest, Orleans, Lyon, Marseille, and much of Lorraine. Union leaders, low-ranking officers, and socialist politicians began emerging to bring some sense of organization to the tumultuous, ad hoc revolutionary front. Calls for the overthrow of the 'bourgeoisie' and 'reactionaries' began ringing out and members of the PFC began calling for the formation of a new state along Bolshevik lines. The army in turn appealed to the traditional elements, warning of the destruction of French society if the rebels could not be defeated. Mob-like militias on both sides began to organize around the professional soldiers, and gunfights and shootouts began to grow into full-fledged battles as artillery, armored cars, tanks, and airplanes were deployed to the fighting.

The death toll began to rise, and so too did the level of destruction. Cities already brought to a standstill by the strike were faced with a critical breakdown in basic utilities. Rail lines and roads were closed as armies of rebels and loyalists battled for control of strategic points. Foreign observers would remember piles of garbage and other refuse appearing in the once majestic Parisian boulevards, adding a new stench to the lingering clouds of smoke from recent fighting. But the country was too large and the forces on both sides of this revolution too small for coherent battle lines to be formed. Usually, convoys of soldiers and workers would rush from place to place, claiming control of a city and perhaps deposing any officials or looting badly-needed supplies before moving on. Towns and cities could change hands again and again without a shot being fired, as bewildered farmers and townsfolk looked on passively.

Both the military high command and the newly-formed revolutionary front remained in Paris, determined to personally oversee the outcome of that undecided test. Thus, the course of the turmoil seemed now to rest on the outcome of the battle for the capital. The situation for Foch and Petain, however, was grim. With the transportation network cut off in the chaos and so much of the army already committed to the suppression country-wide, few reinforcements could be spared for the relief of the beleaguered units already present. Paris had been hit heavily by the wave of defections, and only the last-minute intervention of a convoy of armored cars had saved the central districts from being overrun in the first days. But, outnumbered and surrounded, faced with declining morale and overwhelmed by the magnitude of the crisis, it seemed only a matter of time before the government loyalists were defeated.

By March 12, General Foch had begun to lose heart. Underestimating the strength of the strikers from the very beginning, he was unprepared to cope with the scale of the problem facing him. As order broke down, the responsibilities of governing the nation fell more and more on his shoulders, and it was not a task this weary soldier relished. But Petain remained determined to see this through to the end. On March 13, he passionately rejected Foch's suggestions of retreating from the capital and stormed out of headquarters, intent on establishing a new forward command post nearer the front lines. Petain's convoy of armored cars was ambushed along the way and was shot dead trying to break through. The general's death destroyed what was left of Foch's resolve, and he sadly informed Clemenceau that the fight for Paris was lost. The duo escaped the city under cover of darkness for the safety of Calais and the remnants of the British Expeditionary Force still present there after giving an order for all remaining loyalists to retreat as best they could. The flight of General Foch and President Clemenceau left the faltering loyalist resistance rudderless and demoralized. The rebels filled the vacuum they left behind with probing caution. When the magnitude of the loyalist collapse became apparent, the revolutionaries hastily assembled a new provisional government in the capital, proclaiming the death of the corrupt Third Republic and the formation of the French Union.


This new Provisional Government of the Union was a fractious, unsteady affair. At its top, it was dominated by radical leftists of the Bolshevik style, members of the new PCF communist political party. Both the Executive Chairman Zéphyrin Camélinat and Council Chairman Marcel Cachin were members of the communist party, as was the pro-Bolshevik Director of Foreign Affairs Louis Frossard and Director of Public Safety Alfred Rosmer. Tempering these leftist radicals were men of more moderate views, particularly the center-leftist Charles Dumont, former Finance Secretary in 1913, and General Maurice Sarrail, perhaps the only general with outspoken leftist sympathies who had skillfully exploited the chaos as an opportunity to revitalize his career after the defeats of the Great War. But beneath the new executive cabinet was the Workers Council, an amorphous mass people selected from the multitude of unions, soldiers committees, and regional communes, formed in the first chaotic moments of the revolution and largely without organization or qualification to govern but nevertheless convinced of its legitimacy to represent the people of France. Dominated by the CGT, the syndicalist trade union, the prospect of an internal division akin to what had befallen Russia was not out of the question. But, swept up in emotion of this historic revolutionary triumph, the Left remained, for the time being at least, united in this new socialist state.

Sorry for the delay, but I've been rather busy this past week, and I likely won't get any less busy as time goes on. Toward that end, updates might come at a much slower pace, or I may be forced to reconfigure my approach to speed up the writing process by reducing the size of each update.

SovietAmerika: Actually, by that point I was no longer playing as Germany. I had switched over to Britain.

Onni_Manni: That long, you think?

Kaiser_Mobius: Hmm, good point. I suppose I could switch its tag to the Soviet variant...


Chapter II - Hail to Thee in Victor's Crown - Part VI

The death of General Petain and the subsequent flight of General Foch and President Clemenceau sent shockwaves through international diplomatic circles. No one could ask for a finer example of the old adage 'When France sneezes, Europe catches a cold.' The new provisional government's striking nationalistic rhetoric immediately set off alarm bells in Berlin. To say nothing of whatever distaste the Kaiser and his advisors might feel toward another socialist revolution so close to home, Germany was faced with the potential, indeed likely, repudiation of France's war debt, an intolerable blow to the integrity of the Treaty of Versailles. A partial mobilization was again called, drawing a substantial German force up to the border in Alsace-Lorraine. Local French commanders hastily assembled what organized units they could in preparation for a defense, but even the most optimistic general knew that actually repelling a determined German intervention was impossible.

At this critical moment, Wilhelm II hesitated. The prospect of another war with France, even in defense of Versailles and against a communist regime, filled the Kaiser with revulsion, and he feared what progress he had made toward marginalizing the influence of Generals Hindenburg and Ludendorff would be completely undone by renewed conflict. Furthermore, as much as German leaders gritted their teeth at the nationalist intonations of the revolutionaries, the question remained who would be put in place if Germany toppled the communists? Clemenceau and the remnants of the Third Republic could only be propped up the constant force of German arms, an impossibility to say the least, and the fractured remnants of the French army would scarcely be more willing than the communists to renouncing claims Alsace-Lorraine or the desire for vengeance.

Worse, there was the possibility of expanding the conflict beyond France and Germany. With its civil war winding down, the new Soviet Union was showing troubling signs of outward militancy. Leon Trotsky saw the German threat to France as an opportunity to push his militant views and promised military aid to France if it should be attacked by outside forces. Great Britain too struggled to come to grips with the events unfolding in France. Prime Minister Bonar Law resigned amidst the turmoil, leaving the Conservative government in the hands of Lloyd George, who refused to endorse any German intervention. This more than Trotsky's blustering probably stayed the Kaiser's hand, but some action was still required to meet the crisis. Shying away from a direct invasion of France, Britain and Germany agreed to carve up the remnants of France's colonial empire, to deny it as a base for any future revolutionary agitation. Troops were rushed into the virtually undefended colonies; what French units were present offered no resistance, even helping British forces in some instances. To Germany went several South Pacific islands, the East African territory of Djibouti, and a corridor of territory connecting its two West African colonies. To Britain went the rest, though Indochina remained nominally free under the old Indochina Union and the Governor-Generalship of Albert Sarraut. Only in North Africa did French forces block this land grab, firing warning shots from coastal batteries and anchored cruisers against British landing parties at Algiers and Casablanca.


In effect, France had paid for the repudiation of its crushing indemnity with the bulk of its colonial empire. To France's Central Committee, it was a price worth paying, avoiding as it did any outside interference as the rest of the scattered military resistance was subdued. By mid-April, the rest organized opposition forces were forced to surrender at Calais (as many British soldiers looked on, much to their deep disgust). With the dust finally settling, the revolutionaries could now take stock of the situation. It was hardly a rosy picture: the economy, already in shambles, had been brought to a complete stand-still in the past month's fighting. Nearly half of the army, still badly bruised from the Great War, had lost almost half its strength from desertions, defections, the fighting, or ad hoc purges by the rank and file. Law and order had been badly shaken in many parts of the country, and social turmoil continued to boil just beneath the surface across the whole nation. France's recovery would not be quick, nor would it be easy, but it would be a recovery in the hands of the Revolution.

Onni_Manni : Yes, sorry if that wasn't clear. I was too lazy to make an event annexing or splitting Indochina up, so I just switched the puppet status from France to Britain. In-story, the colonial government simply dumped France once the communists took over.

And while you probably noticed I was playing France in that picture, no, I'm sticking with Britain for the time being. I was only in France long enough fire the proper revolution event I had created and to shell out colonies.

GulMacet: Madagascar went to Germany in the Treaty of Versailles. As for the Far East, it's all quiet right now. Sun Yat-Sen is sitting very precariously in Guangzhou while Li Yuanhong (historically one of Yuan Shikai's generals, in-game one of the warlords, who beat Yuan Shikai for control of China) decides whether to strike south at the republicans or north against Zhang Zuolin's Manchuria.

SovietAmerika: Sorry you think so. I tried to divide it up to give it as much of a "natural" border as I could manage with the way provinces are drawn.

H.Appleby: More on that in the next update or two.


Chapter II - Hail to Thee in Victor's Crown - Part VI

As the Revolution overwhelmed France, Great Britain could only look out upon the world with a growing sense of trepidation. Though boasting a naval power that rendered the Home Isles impregnable and enjoying an industrial strength matched only by the United States, the British Empire's position was more precarious than ever. The Great War had done much to undermine the integrity of its vast colonial holdings. Nationalist groups, though only in their infancy, began to spring up in Africa and Asia. In Ireland, the violence and unrest continued to grow, in spite of, or indeed because of, the growing military presence in the country. Social dissent was also on the rise; millions of demobilized soldiers returned home politically radicalized and disgruntled by their experiences abroad.

As is so often the case in times of uncertainty, the Government and Parliament reacted to the crisis not by attempting reforms or conciliating opposition, but by digging in their heels. Despite Bonar Law's resignation and the ascendancy of Lloyd George, the issue of Irish home rule remained a dead letter. Force was to be met by force, and Britain would retain control of its closest and most troublesome colony by the point of a bayonet if necessary. Security measures bordering on the draconian were put into place. Curfews and martial law were periodically put into effect, mass arrests of suspected dissidents and terrorists were routine, and bombings and shootings were met with reprisals, only to propel the cycle of violence further.

The traditional Liberal Party thus found itself ill-equipped to meet the changing times. The party's popularity continued to plummet despite Lloyd George's best efforts, hemorrhaging support at a fatal rate. The two remaining major parties were the cheif beneficiaries. The transformation of the electoral landscape and the rapid defection of liberal voters to their cause promised new hopes to their electoral chances. Prompted by his continued failure over Home Rule, Lloyd George called new elections for 1922, resulting in a major Conservative victory that catapulted Bonar Law back into power. Labour also made sizable gains, largely at the expense of the Liberals, and two communists even managed to gain seats in Parliament.

Though the history of the Middle East in the 1920's is most closely associated with the second Law government, British interest in the region began while Lloyd George was still in power. As industries around the world continued to grow and change, the control of the supply of oil became absolutely crucial. With the continued discovery of vast oil deposits in the Middle East, the region became vital to British interests economically as well as strategically. The chief obstacle to British preeminence in the region was the moribund Ottoman Empire. Though amongst the victors of the Great War, it had done so only by virtue of a technicality; by the end of the war, British forces were advancing with alarming ease through Palestine and into Syria.

The rapid retreat of British forces left a vacuum in the region, one which was filled by the tribes of the Arabian Peninsula, but no state emerged from it, as the Arab tribes turned on each other in a low-level civil war. Aided by the British soldier T.E. Lawrence and bolstered by surplus war materials, Abdulaziz ibn Saud of Riyadh conquered the coastal territories of the Hejaz, but stepped back from doing the same to the northern state of Jebel-Shammar for fear of the Turkish reaction. Despite the pullback, this new Kingdom of Nejd was constantly pressing its borders, launching border raids against Turks, Arabs, and British alike. In April of1922, Nejd raiders assaulted the tiny colonial territory of Kuwait, only to be decisively crushed in the process. Britain further retaliated by landing in western Arabia and threatening Medina with occupation. Faced with the ignominious breakup of his realm, ibn Saud was persuaded to accept a remarkable proposal brokered by Lawrence with the British; Nejd would become a protectorate of the British Empire in exchange for assistance in unifying the Arabian Peninsula.


In a single stroke, Great Britain had established itself as a major, if not the preeminent European power in the Middle East. The new possibilities raised by this sudden shift in British policy were plain to see; the reaction in Constantinople was predictably epileptic. Reports filtered in from all corners of the empire of nationalist minorities beginning to organize and agitate: Greeks in the west, Armenians and Kurds in the east, Arabs in the south. The Ottoman state, weakened as any of the defeated powers by the Great War, seemed ready to collapse, and the British were now making no efforts to disabuse the discontented multitudes of Ottoman subjects of that notion. Within a month of its treaty with Britain, Nejd declared war upon Jebel Shammar, easily smashing any organized resistance with its new influx of weaponry. Conflict between the Ottoman Empire and the House of Saud now seemed inevitable.