As allways, a nice uppdate. But i have a hard time to see why Russia would defend Poland...? Unless it's independent, of course.
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Some set back there with the so called allies but now we have a nice little war to look forward to. Great update, like the style of this AAR very much 
This is an excellent AAR! I mean, truly excellent. The writing is of the quality of a good novel, or better. This AAR is truly in a league of its own.
Semi-Lobster - It gets even stranger before it's all said and done. But I plan on showing those Russians a thing or two about a thing or two.
R.F.A. - You have a point. I changed the wording above to make it slightly clearer (from Slavic nations to Slavic peoples.) I look at it like this - Russia considers itself the protector of all Slavs. This was it's contributing factor in the lead up to the real WWI, so I figured it would play well here. I used Poland simply because they had already given all three holders of historical Polish land problems. Russia is simply trying to placate it's own Poles so they don't try the same thing as the Austrian Poles did. But is does seem a little odd, I agree.
Judge - Thank you sir. I wish I could sustain a narrative over a longer period of time (and I am actually thinking of trying at some point in the near future) but for now, I wanted to at least complete this one and this seemed the best way to get through the time period and still include the personal story. Glad you enjoy it.
anonymous4401 - Thankyou for reading. I am glad you like it. I'm not sure "novel" is right since I use so many history entries, but I have tried to work on my dialogue and scene description in the Interludes, especially so I can work on another project I am thinking of (see above.) I'm glad it is effective.
And no takers on the trivia question? Bueller...Bueller...?
R.F.A. - You have a point. I changed the wording above to make it slightly clearer (from Slavic nations to Slavic peoples.) I look at it like this - Russia considers itself the protector of all Slavs. This was it's contributing factor in the lead up to the real WWI, so I figured it would play well here. I used Poland simply because they had already given all three holders of historical Polish land problems. Russia is simply trying to placate it's own Poles so they don't try the same thing as the Austrian Poles did. But is does seem a little odd, I agree.
Judge - Thank you sir. I wish I could sustain a narrative over a longer period of time (and I am actually thinking of trying at some point in the near future) but for now, I wanted to at least complete this one and this seemed the best way to get through the time period and still include the personal story. Glad you enjoy it.
anonymous4401 - Thankyou for reading. I am glad you like it. I'm not sure "novel" is right since I use so many history entries, but I have tried to work on my dialogue and scene description in the Interludes, especially so I can work on another project I am thinking of (see above.) I'm glad it is effective.
And no takers on the trivia question? Bueller...Bueller...?
Orthodox Serbia I can understand but Catholic Poland? Although Slavic there was little love between the Poles and Russians. Good luck in the last 19 years of the game!
I am assuming Russia is acting more out of self-interest than any altruistic or principled reasoning. You still have a point, though.
Interlude
July 1914
The automobile slowly wound its way down the street, missing pedestrians at almost every crossing. The driver had been instructed to take it easy, as Arthur Balfour’s guest was the very aged and fragile Henry Strachen. It was a warm day, yet Henry had a blanket over his lap. Balfour looked at him every so often and laughed.
“So, what do you think of the contraption?”
Henry thought about his reply for a moment and then answered,
“It, like everything else that has been introduced over these last few decades, will take some getting used to. I recall something an old friend once said, ‘Give me my horse.’ I think that about says it for me, old boy.”
“At your age, Henry, I doubt the horse would take it is gentle as this automobile.” They both laughed. As they approached their destination, Henry looked out the window and up at the familiar black door of 10 Downing Street.
“Are you sure you cannot join me, old boy?” Henry asked.
“I dare say Lloyd George would not want me interfering. Besides, I have some old chums to meet with over at Foreign Office. I’ll come back and meet you when I’ve finished. Perhaps I can get Asquith alone for a bit. Maybe bend his ear as well.”
“I believe anything would be preferable to the damnable position the PM has taken so far.”
“And you’d be correct, but David Lloyd George is a powerful member. His words are heeded far more than anyone else’s. And Asquith is such a wish-wash. It takes him twenty minutes to choose a pair of bloody boots in the morning.”
“Quite,” Henry replied knowing full well that Balfour did not jest. As the automobile pulled to a stop, the driver got out and went round to Henry’s door. He gently helped Henry step out of the vehicle and produced his walking stick. With pride, Balfour exclaimed,
“Why Henry, I cannot say how happy I am that you’ve gained your strength again. To see you up and around warms the heart.”
“Arthur, it’s the damned liberals that have me walking, don’t you know. I would just as soon be in bed. I’ve had the chills all morning and walking only makes them worse once I get the sweats going.”
“And I’d just as soon take in the links, but times are what they are,” Balfour said as he helped Henry to the front door. After knocking with the lion’s head knocker and seeing that Henry was able to maneuver the steps, he began walking across the street. Turning back quickly, he called out,
“Remember, conservative prejudices are rooted in a great past and liberal ones in an imaginary future. Think about that when Lloyd George starts talking about responsibility to the people, what, what.” With a tip of the hat, Henry turned again to face the door.
An older woman answered.
“Sir Henry Strachen to see the Prime Minister, Madame. I have an appointment.”
She allowed Henry to make his way into the house and asked him to wait for a moment while he was announced. As she walked away, he turned and looked at the portrait of William Pitt the Elder hanging on the wall. As he became lost thinking of the great leaders of the past, he was startled when Herbert Asquith, the Prime Minister, asked him,
“Sir Strachen, I take it you had a pleasant trip over this morning?” Henry turned to face the red-faced man looking back at him.
“Sir, I am pleased that you have been able to see me. Please forgive my lateness but as you can see, I cannot get round as well as I was once able.”
"Henry Strachen,” Asquith replied joyfully, “You do me an honor, sir. I can most assuredly use your historical knowledge and learned brain more than you may know.” Behind him another voice added,
“And we are most honored to receive you, sir.” David Lloyd George walked around his Prime Minister and stood in front of Henry. He was younger and had the look of a man that could drink you under the table just as soon as argue you blue in the face. Either way, he would win at all costs. “Please, let us not stand round in the hall when our guest has need for a chair,” he said looking back at Asquith.
“Of course, of course…where are my manners? Let us go into the White Room. It is much more sunny in there. Most fitting for our discussion.” Asquith turned and walked down the hall. Lloyd George made a point to assist Henry as he followed. Once they had reached the White Room, Henry took a seat opposite the fireplace and waited for the PM to speak. After a few moments of silence, it was Lloyd George that began the meeting.
“Well, I do not think it surprises us that we meet here today. Of all the men in the world that could have knowledge of the current circumstances, it is you, Sir Strachen.”
“Please, address me as Henry, if you will. I shant stand on ceremony if you do not.”
“Quite,” replied Asquith. “Yes, let us not be formal here. We are here to speak our minds, not have a tea party. Speaking of, Henry…would you care for a little nip?”
“No thank you,” Henry answered.
“Well, don’t mind if I do. Just a bit to smooth the tonsils, eh?”
Lloyd George turned from his Prime Minister with a slight look of disgust on his face. Sitting next to Henry, he continued,
“The situation is this, sir. His Majesty would like to assist our Russian friends, but we just do not see how we can at this time. Financially, yes...we can do what we can there, but as far as sending our boys to die for their cause, when we tried so very hard to calm the tempers in 1911…well, that just isn’t at hand, I’m afraid.”
Henry was tired. And further, he didn’t feel like arguing, but he remembered his conversation with Abbas Ali before this mess had started and he grew more and more disgusted that his entreaties to Asquith and his cabinet had been ignored each time. He looked to Asquith who was lighting a cigar and asked,
“Sir, have you not already read the information I have prepared for His Majesty’s government? I should think this plenty to dispel any notions that this war will be a quick one. How many must die before we include our considerable might into the equation?”
Asquith rolled the cigar between his lips as it began to redden and pondered Henry’s question. Lloyd George began to speak but the PM raised his hand to signal he had a thought to share.
“Henry, I have perused the material that you have been kind enough to prepare for His Majesty and myself. But you must understand, what with the situation in Ireland at current and this mess with the Lords, our hands are quite simply tied. My own daughter is not even speaking to me until I have promised that she may be given the vote come next elections. There are simply too many things begging this government’s time and energy. Where would we be if we added yet another foreign war to the mix? The people are quite fed up with our entanglements abroad. I dare say some are even fed up with the notion of Empire itself.”
Recognizing this thought would not sit well with Henry, Lloyd George interjected,
“It’s not as if we have not looked the situation over and thrown it by the wayside. We are looking at every angle on a constant basis. The avenues at our disposal are still quite fluid at present. I dare say it’s slightly premature to assume our help is even needed.”
“Then you, sir, have most certainly not looked at what I have sent you. Because, if you had, you would see that the pattern of both Persia and China is not to accept a loss. They will fight until they have won, something I am sure you are familiar with, sir.”
Lloyd George rose and walked to the window. Looking out into the garden, he replied,
“I know the honorable gentleman does not impugn my nature. So why does my backside feel the sting?”
Asquith quickly attempted to calm the situation,
“Gentlemen, please…let us not get out of hand here. We are all friends, are we not?”
“Quite,” Lloyd George replied, turning again to face Henry. With a firm look, he went on, “Henry, you have given His Majesty many years of loyal service. Queen Victoria was said to have doted on your family over all others in diplomatic circles. Your father was a pioneer in Persian relations, and you have acquitted yourself so very honorably over the years. But I fear your age and circumstance has colored your mind about this thing. It’s simply a matter of timing, old boy. Nothing more.”
Asquith continued,
“We have promised Nicholas all the support His Majesty can, save sending in troops. Should that not be enough?”
Henry rose gingerly, his old bones feeling the weight of his years. He gathered his cane and hat and started towards the door of the room.
“Gentlemen, I am unsure why you have even disturbed my day to ask me here. It is obvious that neither of you has any idea what is currently transpiring in the world. Forgive my directness but my years and current crotchety nature take precedence over my manners. It is simply a mathematic equation, sirs. Adding the number of Chinese and Persians to the already considerable might of the Austrians gives us a figure far above what the Russians might bring to bear. Eventually, one will out weigh the other, and then what will you have?”
Both gentlemen did not speak, so Henry continued, “Three very hungry states whose appetites are not yet fulfilled. And if you include the German Kaiser’s regular intake, I’m afraid that is one dinner party we cannot afford to miss. Now, if you will excuse my abrupt departure, I must travel home and continue my letters. Perhaps I will be able to convince His Majesty directly if you will not do it for me.”
Henry opened the door and with one last glance back in the room, to see if his words carried any weight, he left the meeting. He was disgusted at the PM’s lack of strength. Further, he was dismayed at the influence Lloyd George seemed to have over Asquith. “King George might as well ask him to form the next government. He seems to be running it already,” Henry thought to himself.
He eventually made his way back to the front of the building and out the black door that marked the PM’s official residence and office. Waiting for him in his automobile was Arthur Balfour. The two men talked all the way back to Henry’s house concerning how to get His Majesty involved. They were not able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Perhaps time would assist them, but if not, events surely would.
July 1914
The automobile slowly wound its way down the street, missing pedestrians at almost every crossing. The driver had been instructed to take it easy, as Arthur Balfour’s guest was the very aged and fragile Henry Strachen. It was a warm day, yet Henry had a blanket over his lap. Balfour looked at him every so often and laughed.
“So, what do you think of the contraption?”
Henry thought about his reply for a moment and then answered,
“It, like everything else that has been introduced over these last few decades, will take some getting used to. I recall something an old friend once said, ‘Give me my horse.’ I think that about says it for me, old boy.”
“At your age, Henry, I doubt the horse would take it is gentle as this automobile.” They both laughed. As they approached their destination, Henry looked out the window and up at the familiar black door of 10 Downing Street.
“Are you sure you cannot join me, old boy?” Henry asked.
“I dare say Lloyd George would not want me interfering. Besides, I have some old chums to meet with over at Foreign Office. I’ll come back and meet you when I’ve finished. Perhaps I can get Asquith alone for a bit. Maybe bend his ear as well.”
“I believe anything would be preferable to the damnable position the PM has taken so far.”
“And you’d be correct, but David Lloyd George is a powerful member. His words are heeded far more than anyone else’s. And Asquith is such a wish-wash. It takes him twenty minutes to choose a pair of bloody boots in the morning.”
“Quite,” Henry replied knowing full well that Balfour did not jest. As the automobile pulled to a stop, the driver got out and went round to Henry’s door. He gently helped Henry step out of the vehicle and produced his walking stick. With pride, Balfour exclaimed,
“Why Henry, I cannot say how happy I am that you’ve gained your strength again. To see you up and around warms the heart.”
“Arthur, it’s the damned liberals that have me walking, don’t you know. I would just as soon be in bed. I’ve had the chills all morning and walking only makes them worse once I get the sweats going.”
“And I’d just as soon take in the links, but times are what they are,” Balfour said as he helped Henry to the front door. After knocking with the lion’s head knocker and seeing that Henry was able to maneuver the steps, he began walking across the street. Turning back quickly, he called out,
“Remember, conservative prejudices are rooted in a great past and liberal ones in an imaginary future. Think about that when Lloyd George starts talking about responsibility to the people, what, what.” With a tip of the hat, Henry turned again to face the door.
An older woman answered.
“Sir Henry Strachen to see the Prime Minister, Madame. I have an appointment.”
She allowed Henry to make his way into the house and asked him to wait for a moment while he was announced. As she walked away, he turned and looked at the portrait of William Pitt the Elder hanging on the wall. As he became lost thinking of the great leaders of the past, he was startled when Herbert Asquith, the Prime Minister, asked him,
“Sir Strachen, I take it you had a pleasant trip over this morning?” Henry turned to face the red-faced man looking back at him.
“Sir, I am pleased that you have been able to see me. Please forgive my lateness but as you can see, I cannot get round as well as I was once able.”
"Henry Strachen,” Asquith replied joyfully, “You do me an honor, sir. I can most assuredly use your historical knowledge and learned brain more than you may know.” Behind him another voice added,
“And we are most honored to receive you, sir.” David Lloyd George walked around his Prime Minister and stood in front of Henry. He was younger and had the look of a man that could drink you under the table just as soon as argue you blue in the face. Either way, he would win at all costs. “Please, let us not stand round in the hall when our guest has need for a chair,” he said looking back at Asquith.
“Of course, of course…where are my manners? Let us go into the White Room. It is much more sunny in there. Most fitting for our discussion.” Asquith turned and walked down the hall. Lloyd George made a point to assist Henry as he followed. Once they had reached the White Room, Henry took a seat opposite the fireplace and waited for the PM to speak. After a few moments of silence, it was Lloyd George that began the meeting.
“Well, I do not think it surprises us that we meet here today. Of all the men in the world that could have knowledge of the current circumstances, it is you, Sir Strachen.”
“Please, address me as Henry, if you will. I shant stand on ceremony if you do not.”
“Quite,” replied Asquith. “Yes, let us not be formal here. We are here to speak our minds, not have a tea party. Speaking of, Henry…would you care for a little nip?”
“No thank you,” Henry answered.
“Well, don’t mind if I do. Just a bit to smooth the tonsils, eh?”
Lloyd George turned from his Prime Minister with a slight look of disgust on his face. Sitting next to Henry, he continued,
“The situation is this, sir. His Majesty would like to assist our Russian friends, but we just do not see how we can at this time. Financially, yes...we can do what we can there, but as far as sending our boys to die for their cause, when we tried so very hard to calm the tempers in 1911…well, that just isn’t at hand, I’m afraid.”
Henry was tired. And further, he didn’t feel like arguing, but he remembered his conversation with Abbas Ali before this mess had started and he grew more and more disgusted that his entreaties to Asquith and his cabinet had been ignored each time. He looked to Asquith who was lighting a cigar and asked,
“Sir, have you not already read the information I have prepared for His Majesty’s government? I should think this plenty to dispel any notions that this war will be a quick one. How many must die before we include our considerable might into the equation?”
Asquith rolled the cigar between his lips as it began to redden and pondered Henry’s question. Lloyd George began to speak but the PM raised his hand to signal he had a thought to share.
“Henry, I have perused the material that you have been kind enough to prepare for His Majesty and myself. But you must understand, what with the situation in Ireland at current and this mess with the Lords, our hands are quite simply tied. My own daughter is not even speaking to me until I have promised that she may be given the vote come next elections. There are simply too many things begging this government’s time and energy. Where would we be if we added yet another foreign war to the mix? The people are quite fed up with our entanglements abroad. I dare say some are even fed up with the notion of Empire itself.”
Recognizing this thought would not sit well with Henry, Lloyd George interjected,
“It’s not as if we have not looked the situation over and thrown it by the wayside. We are looking at every angle on a constant basis. The avenues at our disposal are still quite fluid at present. I dare say it’s slightly premature to assume our help is even needed.”
“Then you, sir, have most certainly not looked at what I have sent you. Because, if you had, you would see that the pattern of both Persia and China is not to accept a loss. They will fight until they have won, something I am sure you are familiar with, sir.”
Lloyd George rose and walked to the window. Looking out into the garden, he replied,
“I know the honorable gentleman does not impugn my nature. So why does my backside feel the sting?”
Asquith quickly attempted to calm the situation,
“Gentlemen, please…let us not get out of hand here. We are all friends, are we not?”
“Quite,” Lloyd George replied, turning again to face Henry. With a firm look, he went on, “Henry, you have given His Majesty many years of loyal service. Queen Victoria was said to have doted on your family over all others in diplomatic circles. Your father was a pioneer in Persian relations, and you have acquitted yourself so very honorably over the years. But I fear your age and circumstance has colored your mind about this thing. It’s simply a matter of timing, old boy. Nothing more.”
Asquith continued,
“We have promised Nicholas all the support His Majesty can, save sending in troops. Should that not be enough?”
Henry rose gingerly, his old bones feeling the weight of his years. He gathered his cane and hat and started towards the door of the room.
“Gentlemen, I am unsure why you have even disturbed my day to ask me here. It is obvious that neither of you has any idea what is currently transpiring in the world. Forgive my directness but my years and current crotchety nature take precedence over my manners. It is simply a mathematic equation, sirs. Adding the number of Chinese and Persians to the already considerable might of the Austrians gives us a figure far above what the Russians might bring to bear. Eventually, one will out weigh the other, and then what will you have?”
Both gentlemen did not speak, so Henry continued, “Three very hungry states whose appetites are not yet fulfilled. And if you include the German Kaiser’s regular intake, I’m afraid that is one dinner party we cannot afford to miss. Now, if you will excuse my abrupt departure, I must travel home and continue my letters. Perhaps I will be able to convince His Majesty directly if you will not do it for me.”
Henry opened the door and with one last glance back in the room, to see if his words carried any weight, he left the meeting. He was disgusted at the PM’s lack of strength. Further, he was dismayed at the influence Lloyd George seemed to have over Asquith. “King George might as well ask him to form the next government. He seems to be running it already,” Henry thought to himself.
He eventually made his way back to the front of the building and out the black door that marked the PM’s official residence and office. Waiting for him in his automobile was Arthur Balfour. The two men talked all the way back to Henry’s house concerning how to get His Majesty involved. They were not able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Perhaps time would assist them, but if not, events surely would.
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Ahh yes, the eternal quagmire of British politics! I suggest you read an excellent book by Lloyd George's grand-daughter (or was that daughter hmm...) it's called Paris 1919 it's a very interesting and imformative book about the after-math of WWI and how it affects the world today aswell.
I suggest you read an excellent book by Lloyd George's grand-daughter (or was that daughter hmm...) it's called Paris 1919 it's a very interesting and imformative book about the after-math of WWI and how it affects the world today aswell.
Semi-Lobster - I have heard of that book. I seem to recall reading a review of it not long ago, but may be confusing it with another. It does sound interesting.
stynlan - thanks, that's kind of what I was going for.
May not get an update up until tomorrow, but I should be able to get through the Russian War over the weekend (if not more.) Thanks again for reading everyone!
stynlan - thanks, that's kind of what I was going for.
May not get an update up until tomorrow, but I should be able to get through the Russian War over the weekend (if not more.) Thanks again for reading everyone!
R.F.A said:Ah, an uppdate! Good as usual... I Kinda like Asquith
I'm glad someone does, because Henry sure doesn't.
A quick note before we continue - I have to confess, I am an idiot. :wacko: In my inability to keep from playing 1.02, I forgot to save my final autosave as Persia in 1920.
This means I will have to get creative with screenshots again. I have one for the very end, so do not worry about that. But shots from mid-1915 through the endgame will be somewhat sparse or at least doctored from either the final shot or previous ones (most especially the screenies from after peace with Russia and others.) Sorry for that, but I just had to play some last night and totally forgot. Duh!! I'm stoopid!Anyway, the war with Russia now begins proper. I need to do one more typo pass and afix screenies, but part 1 begins within a matter of minutes.
14. 1914-1915, The Great War: The Russian War, Part I
The war with Russia would begin very well for Persia. Joined by her ally China, Persian forces quickly marched over the borders in the Caucasus, Central Asia and Africa. Within two weeks, they would begin to meet with whatever forces Russia still had guarding these areas. Most of these battles would be over in a matter of days, yet some dug-in Russian forces would prove stubborn, most notably those guarding Naxcivan and later Sheki.
The first immediate war aim for Abbas Ali was to occupy all of Russia’s colonies, both in Central Asia, hopefully beating the Chinese, and also in the African Horn. His goal was achieved within months, though it would take longer in Africa as there were more of them.
As the Army of Central Asia and Army of Iran were shoring up the line in the northeast, The Army of the Caucasus and it’s supporting divisions were slowly making their way through the isthmus between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. With most of the Russian army facing the Austrians to the north, there was very little head on resistance.
Partisans, however, would prove problematic. By the end of 1914, Persian forces were close to linking up with their Austrian counterparts above Georgia. Most of the provinces in between had been occupied and a strong line set up to repel any counteroffensive. However, the many battles of Naxcivan had not yet ended and the province of Sheki was proving troublesome, as the Russian forces there would not surrender even though surrounded.
Further, the Persian army would lose a battle in Novousensk in Central Asia. This being the least supplied part of the larger Persian Army, Abbas Ali was forced to redirect his efforts there. The Chinese had begun to move up and through Siberia and once the Russian colonies were fully occupied, Abbas Ali was able to strengthen his eastern front.
The African front, too, was proving more difficult than he had initially thought. Russia had been colonizing for years and controlled a vast portion of Central Africa. Forces that Abbas Ali was not aware of were slowly making their way through the interior and linking up with their comrades near Fashoda. However, once the project of taking the Horn colonies was complete, Ali’s Egyptian and African armies were able to set an effective line keeping Russian forces from moving into the Sudan itself.
Ali was also assisted by new aircraft models that came on line near the end of the year. Though crude in design, they proved useful, as Russia had nothing in kind to respond with. In combination with superior Persian forces and numbers, 1915 would begin with a promise of victory if rebel partisans could be brought under control.
Naxcivan had been reinforced with supporting armies in January and finally won by the following month. The African forces had been able to set the line near Fashoda while slipping additional forces through the interior and were now beginning the process of taking the eastern Russian territories in Africa. With the fall of Coquilliatville, Russian armies would be forced to withdraw from western Africa making the process of occupation there easier and allowing an additional push to the south.
Yet March would begin a process of steady leaks in the Persian lines in the Caucasus. Though finally linked with Austrian forces, Russian partisans were beginning to take back already occupied provinces. Both Gandza and Sheki were lost during the month causing Abbas Ali to pull back forces from the north to retake this ground.
The Russian navies were also proving effective against the smaller Persian Navy in the Black Sea. Gaining confidence, the Tsar would not give up the fight, even when faced with gas attacks across the trench lines in the north. Further loss of territory would occur in May through July and the war became a process of trading ground.
Ali also faced growing unrest at home. Several of the previously conquered territories would begin revolting due to war exhaustion. Each would be effectively put down, but Abbas Ali began to worry that if he did not complete this war soon, he may be forced with a war in Persia itself thus nullifying anything he might have gained against Russia.
As 1915 was drawing to a close, the Russians were planning a winter counter offensive through the Georgia and Abbas Ali was quickly learning the age-old adage that planning was the first casualty of any war. Still, the allies had gained considerable ground and no other power had thus far joined in the war. If he could hold off the unrest at home and the gathering Russian forces in Central Asia and Georgia, he felt confident that his war aims would be met and victory achieved.
The war with Russia would begin very well for Persia. Joined by her ally China, Persian forces quickly marched over the borders in the Caucasus, Central Asia and Africa. Within two weeks, they would begin to meet with whatever forces Russia still had guarding these areas. Most of these battles would be over in a matter of days, yet some dug-in Russian forces would prove stubborn, most notably those guarding Naxcivan and later Sheki.
The first immediate war aim for Abbas Ali was to occupy all of Russia’s colonies, both in Central Asia, hopefully beating the Chinese, and also in the African Horn. His goal was achieved within months, though it would take longer in Africa as there were more of them.
As the Army of Central Asia and Army of Iran were shoring up the line in the northeast, The Army of the Caucasus and it’s supporting divisions were slowly making their way through the isthmus between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. With most of the Russian army facing the Austrians to the north, there was very little head on resistance.
Partisans, however, would prove problematic. By the end of 1914, Persian forces were close to linking up with their Austrian counterparts above Georgia. Most of the provinces in between had been occupied and a strong line set up to repel any counteroffensive. However, the many battles of Naxcivan had not yet ended and the province of Sheki was proving troublesome, as the Russian forces there would not surrender even though surrounded.
Further, the Persian army would lose a battle in Novousensk in Central Asia. This being the least supplied part of the larger Persian Army, Abbas Ali was forced to redirect his efforts there. The Chinese had begun to move up and through Siberia and once the Russian colonies were fully occupied, Abbas Ali was able to strengthen his eastern front.
The African front, too, was proving more difficult than he had initially thought. Russia had been colonizing for years and controlled a vast portion of Central Africa. Forces that Abbas Ali was not aware of were slowly making their way through the interior and linking up with their comrades near Fashoda. However, once the project of taking the Horn colonies was complete, Ali’s Egyptian and African armies were able to set an effective line keeping Russian forces from moving into the Sudan itself.
Ali was also assisted by new aircraft models that came on line near the end of the year. Though crude in design, they proved useful, as Russia had nothing in kind to respond with. In combination with superior Persian forces and numbers, 1915 would begin with a promise of victory if rebel partisans could be brought under control.
Naxcivan had been reinforced with supporting armies in January and finally won by the following month. The African forces had been able to set the line near Fashoda while slipping additional forces through the interior and were now beginning the process of taking the eastern Russian territories in Africa. With the fall of Coquilliatville, Russian armies would be forced to withdraw from western Africa making the process of occupation there easier and allowing an additional push to the south.
Yet March would begin a process of steady leaks in the Persian lines in the Caucasus. Though finally linked with Austrian forces, Russian partisans were beginning to take back already occupied provinces. Both Gandza and Sheki were lost during the month causing Abbas Ali to pull back forces from the north to retake this ground.
The Russian navies were also proving effective against the smaller Persian Navy in the Black Sea. Gaining confidence, the Tsar would not give up the fight, even when faced with gas attacks across the trench lines in the north. Further loss of territory would occur in May through July and the war became a process of trading ground.
Ali also faced growing unrest at home. Several of the previously conquered territories would begin revolting due to war exhaustion. Each would be effectively put down, but Abbas Ali began to worry that if he did not complete this war soon, he may be forced with a war in Persia itself thus nullifying anything he might have gained against Russia.
As 1915 was drawing to a close, the Russians were planning a winter counter offensive through the Georgia and Abbas Ali was quickly learning the age-old adage that planning was the first casualty of any war. Still, the allies had gained considerable ground and no other power had thus far joined in the war. If he could hold off the unrest at home and the gathering Russian forces in Central Asia and Georgia, he felt confident that his war aims would be met and victory achieved.
It sounds from your description that your forces are kind of stretched thin. Is that actually the case? And how many reserves can you throw into the field if, and probably when, it becomes necessary?
Russian partisans are the worst. At least your troops are going of to Russia singing about how they'll be home for Ramadan.
Semi-Lobster - Funny.
Amric - I did not even mobilize for the war. I had so many troops by this point I didn't think it was needed. Maybe I should have, because I did underestimate what they had to throw at me. I figured after all the wars they had been through by that point, and considering they had been at war for a piece with Austria, that perhaps they were thinned out enough to take. WRONG! It's also, surely, because I was the human opponent, so the bulk of there forces were coming at me - but it was really the partisans, as Semi-Lobster so truthfully agreed, that were the bane of my existance in this war.
The rest should be up later today after I figure out a good way to do my Interlude in between, so you'll see how it works out.
Amric - I did not even mobilize for the war. I had so many troops by this point I didn't think it was needed. Maybe I should have, because I did underestimate what they had to throw at me. I figured after all the wars they had been through by that point, and considering they had been at war for a piece with Austria, that perhaps they were thinned out enough to take. WRONG! It's also, surely, because I was the human opponent, so the bulk of there forces were coming at me - but it was really the partisans, as Semi-Lobster so truthfully agreed, that were the bane of my existance in this war.
The rest should be up later today after I figure out a good way to do my Interlude in between, so you'll see how it works out.
Interlude
December 1915
The soldier ran as much as he walked through the trench on his way to meet Major Naberezhnyi. As he got closer to the dugout, he heard a noise overhead. As it came closer, he spied an empty funk hole. Though not the best place to be if a shell was falling, it provided at least some cover. Suddenly he heard the blast and it appeared to be farther away than he first thought. Standing again, he looked down at himself and thought about how filthy he must appear.
“Damn, Persians. Make me dive to the ground again. If I ever get close enough, I swear…”
“Kapitan!” a voice called out to him before he could finish his thought. He looked up and saw his superior, Major Naberezhnyi calling to him. “Get your ass in here! I don’t want to see your head blown off by that damned shrapnel!”
“Yes sir,” Moroshkin replied. Quickly running to meet the Major, Moroshkin ducked under the doorway of the dugout and leaned against the earthen wall in exhaustion.
“Well, what’s the news? What did he say?” Naberezhnyi asked him.
“He said the Tsar has taken command of the troops and is pushing this way, as best he could tell.”
“Did he sound confidant?” the Major asked.
“Well…you know the Colonel. He tried to, at least.”
The Major sat down on a make shift stool by a small table. His face betrayed whatever words he might say to sound optimistic. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small pouch of tobacco and some paper. Quickly rolling it into a smoke, he lit it with a match and then sighed in relief probably for the first time in a few days.
“What I wouldn’t give for a shot of something, right now,” he exclaimed.
“You’ll get a shot of something, that’s for sure Major, but I doubt it is what you are asking for.”
Naberezhnyi looked up at his junior officer. He was usually strict on protocol, but the fact that his men had been surrounded for the past seven months around Sheki eased his strict nature. The major noticed Moroshkin rubbing his boot.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh nothing, I just can’t feel my foot anymore,” the Kapitan replied.
“Well, you better take it off and let it air out or you’ll lose the damn thing.”
Moroshkin did as he was told. Unlacing his boot and then removing his sock, he looked down at his foot. It was slightly swollen and blue in color. His face turned down further.
“It doesn’t look very good, Kapitan. Here, rub it with this and put these on after,” the Major said, tossing Moroshkin a clean pair of socks.
“Where’d you get these?”
“They were Lachek’s. I don’t suppose he will need them anymore. Might as well prove useful to someone else.”
The Kapitan sat on the ground and did as he was told. The Major produced a map from his coat pocket. Unfolding it carefully, so it did not tear further, he folded it back to focus on their position.
“If they are moving this way, they will still take too long to rescue us. I just don’t see how it’s possible. The Persians have too many men coming at us. They already reinforced twice as far as I can tell. There’s close to 80,000 men out there. It’s a wonder they don’t destroy us.”
“They might yet, sir. It’s only the strength of will and love of God that keeps us alive, I am sure.”
“Bah! God does not reside in this trench, son. Only you and I, and we are not long for it either, I am afraid.”
“What of young Petrovsky? Is he fairing any better?” Moroshkin asked.
“As good as can be expected. He took one in the leg and the bleeding went on forever. He’ll lose it, most certainly, but he may yet live. I haven’t the heart to try and send word to his family yet. Better they hear it when it’s a done deal, one-way or the other. At least there will be some certainty. That’s more than I can say for us.”
“He was so scared when we saw the shell coming. He just froze, like a deer in the woods when a twig snaps. I tried to call for him, but he did not look over at me. He just stood there. It’s a wonder it didn't land right on top of him.”
“Well, he would certainly be no more if that were the case. He’s very lucky, actually. If you can call someone such in this mess.”
“What about you, sir? Any news from home?”
Moroshkin knew that the Major’s wife had been expecting a child, but he had not received any word for two months. Naberezhnyi was not accustomed to discussing his personal life much, but given the conditions and that Moroshkin was a family friend, he had confided that he feared the worst. The Major said not a word, only stared at his map.
“Kapitan Moroshkin. I want you to get a runner and see if we can get him past the line. If we can somehow get word to the Tsar, perhaps he will understand our dire nature here.”
Moroshkin put on the dry socks and replace his wet boot. Grimacing as he did so, he finally laced it up and stood to salute. At that moment, they both froze. They heard another sound outside and both exited the dugout to see what it was.
“More damn shrapnel!” the Major exclaimed, “Get that man down over there.”
Moroshkin hollered at the young corporal who was peering over the parapet, but he did not seem to notice. The Major yelled,
“Damn it, Dashko, get your ass down on the fucking ground! Now!” But he was too late. The shell landed not far from the young corporal and suddenly the air filled with a greenish-yellow gas.
“Get your mask on!” the Major yelled to Moroshkin, he himself quickly reached under his coat to pull his gas mask over his face. Moroshkin had to run back inside the dugout, as he did not have one handy. The Major followed.
“Are you alright?” Naberezhnyi asked.
“I think so. That was damned close. Is it chlorine?”
The Major looked outside again to see if the other men had taken precaution. Ducking back in, he replied,
“I don’t think so. A few of the men are grabbing at their throats, but it doesn’t appear to be too damaging. Probably some tearing agent. Nasty stuff. What in the hell happened to honor in war? Eh? What in the hell happened to that?”
Before being allowed to answer, they both heard more commotion coming from outside. Again rushing out, they saw the closest group of men preparing for an attack. The Major hollered at one of the other junior officers,
“What is it? Is it another one?” The officer replied in the negative and signaled an assault. “Moroshkin, forget the runner. Get on that gun and keep firing until they stop running at you. Quick now, double time!”
Moroshkin followed his orders for the last time. By the end of the day, neither he nor Major Naberezhnyi would be alive to follow orders again. The area was surrounded and neither the Tsar nor anyone else could save them. Sheki would soon be lost, and many feared so too would the war.
December 1915
The soldier ran as much as he walked through the trench on his way to meet Major Naberezhnyi. As he got closer to the dugout, he heard a noise overhead. As it came closer, he spied an empty funk hole. Though not the best place to be if a shell was falling, it provided at least some cover. Suddenly he heard the blast and it appeared to be farther away than he first thought. Standing again, he looked down at himself and thought about how filthy he must appear.
“Damn, Persians. Make me dive to the ground again. If I ever get close enough, I swear…”
“Kapitan!” a voice called out to him before he could finish his thought. He looked up and saw his superior, Major Naberezhnyi calling to him. “Get your ass in here! I don’t want to see your head blown off by that damned shrapnel!”
“Yes sir,” Moroshkin replied. Quickly running to meet the Major, Moroshkin ducked under the doorway of the dugout and leaned against the earthen wall in exhaustion.
“Well, what’s the news? What did he say?” Naberezhnyi asked him.
“He said the Tsar has taken command of the troops and is pushing this way, as best he could tell.”
“Did he sound confidant?” the Major asked.
“Well…you know the Colonel. He tried to, at least.”
The Major sat down on a make shift stool by a small table. His face betrayed whatever words he might say to sound optimistic. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small pouch of tobacco and some paper. Quickly rolling it into a smoke, he lit it with a match and then sighed in relief probably for the first time in a few days.
“What I wouldn’t give for a shot of something, right now,” he exclaimed.
“You’ll get a shot of something, that’s for sure Major, but I doubt it is what you are asking for.”
Naberezhnyi looked up at his junior officer. He was usually strict on protocol, but the fact that his men had been surrounded for the past seven months around Sheki eased his strict nature. The major noticed Moroshkin rubbing his boot.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh nothing, I just can’t feel my foot anymore,” the Kapitan replied.
“Well, you better take it off and let it air out or you’ll lose the damn thing.”
Moroshkin did as he was told. Unlacing his boot and then removing his sock, he looked down at his foot. It was slightly swollen and blue in color. His face turned down further.
“It doesn’t look very good, Kapitan. Here, rub it with this and put these on after,” the Major said, tossing Moroshkin a clean pair of socks.
“Where’d you get these?”
“They were Lachek’s. I don’t suppose he will need them anymore. Might as well prove useful to someone else.”
The Kapitan sat on the ground and did as he was told. The Major produced a map from his coat pocket. Unfolding it carefully, so it did not tear further, he folded it back to focus on their position.
“If they are moving this way, they will still take too long to rescue us. I just don’t see how it’s possible. The Persians have too many men coming at us. They already reinforced twice as far as I can tell. There’s close to 80,000 men out there. It’s a wonder they don’t destroy us.”
“They might yet, sir. It’s only the strength of will and love of God that keeps us alive, I am sure.”
“Bah! God does not reside in this trench, son. Only you and I, and we are not long for it either, I am afraid.”
“What of young Petrovsky? Is he fairing any better?” Moroshkin asked.
“As good as can be expected. He took one in the leg and the bleeding went on forever. He’ll lose it, most certainly, but he may yet live. I haven’t the heart to try and send word to his family yet. Better they hear it when it’s a done deal, one-way or the other. At least there will be some certainty. That’s more than I can say for us.”
“He was so scared when we saw the shell coming. He just froze, like a deer in the woods when a twig snaps. I tried to call for him, but he did not look over at me. He just stood there. It’s a wonder it didn't land right on top of him.”
“Well, he would certainly be no more if that were the case. He’s very lucky, actually. If you can call someone such in this mess.”
“What about you, sir? Any news from home?”
Moroshkin knew that the Major’s wife had been expecting a child, but he had not received any word for two months. Naberezhnyi was not accustomed to discussing his personal life much, but given the conditions and that Moroshkin was a family friend, he had confided that he feared the worst. The Major said not a word, only stared at his map.
“Kapitan Moroshkin. I want you to get a runner and see if we can get him past the line. If we can somehow get word to the Tsar, perhaps he will understand our dire nature here.”
Moroshkin put on the dry socks and replace his wet boot. Grimacing as he did so, he finally laced it up and stood to salute. At that moment, they both froze. They heard another sound outside and both exited the dugout to see what it was.
“More damn shrapnel!” the Major exclaimed, “Get that man down over there.”
Moroshkin hollered at the young corporal who was peering over the parapet, but he did not seem to notice. The Major yelled,
“Damn it, Dashko, get your ass down on the fucking ground! Now!” But he was too late. The shell landed not far from the young corporal and suddenly the air filled with a greenish-yellow gas.
“Get your mask on!” the Major yelled to Moroshkin, he himself quickly reached under his coat to pull his gas mask over his face. Moroshkin had to run back inside the dugout, as he did not have one handy. The Major followed.
“Are you alright?” Naberezhnyi asked.
“I think so. That was damned close. Is it chlorine?”
The Major looked outside again to see if the other men had taken precaution. Ducking back in, he replied,
“I don’t think so. A few of the men are grabbing at their throats, but it doesn’t appear to be too damaging. Probably some tearing agent. Nasty stuff. What in the hell happened to honor in war? Eh? What in the hell happened to that?”
Before being allowed to answer, they both heard more commotion coming from outside. Again rushing out, they saw the closest group of men preparing for an attack. The Major hollered at one of the other junior officers,
“What is it? Is it another one?” The officer replied in the negative and signaled an assault. “Moroshkin, forget the runner. Get on that gun and keep firing until they stop running at you. Quick now, double time!”
Moroshkin followed his orders for the last time. By the end of the day, neither he nor Major Naberezhnyi would be alive to follow orders again. The area was surrounded and neither the Tsar nor anyone else could save them. Sheki would soon be lost, and many feared so too would the war.
Another day in the trenches. I'd like to see how the Persians handle trench warfare!
Semi-Lobster - Damn, son! I had a hard enough time writing a trench scene with the Russians. Note really my forte, really. Now you want the Persian side?? That'll have to be enough for this Saturday afternoon. I'm afraid my creaky fingers are just about used up. Perhaps I can get something together for one of the later wars. And yes, only four more years, but plenty of action left. Told you this was a fun one!
Note really my forte, really. Now you want the Persian side?? That'll have to be enough for this Saturday afternoon. I'm afraid my creaky fingers are just about used up. Perhaps I can get something together for one of the later wars. And yes, only four more years, but plenty of action left. Told you this was a fun one!