It was an unusually cool and dry night for this time of the year. Australian Prime Minister Robert Menzies sat in his office, at the back of his presidential villa just south of Canberra, and pondered. In this peaceful house, the war seemed like nothing more than a bad dream, a dark thought quickly chased away by dawn. He sighed and put down his pen, staring at the order papers the AOF had sent him. Hold off Pact Forces as long as possible. Allow the AOF to evacuate. Try not to get shot yourself.
President Thomas E. Dewey had offered Menzies refuge in the United States, and the possibility to form a government-in-exile, to return to his country when the war reached it’s happy ending. Menzies had refused, stating that he would rather stay in Australia and bear the burden of occupation along with the rest of his subjects. The true reason, however, was much darker. Menzies did not trust the AOF. Their zeal was too great, their determination to annihilate the Channel Pact too remorseless. Who knows what they were capable of? Menzies pushed away the AOF documents and grabbed hold of Australian Special Service espionage reports from the US. The United States had changed.
Accompanied with dark and blurry pictures of policemen beating down protesters, violent repression of strikes and other depressing photos, the document clearly stated that the US pursued a horrible repression campaign against anyone who dared to criticize the conduct of war. Terms like “Communist partisans” or “Pact terrorists” were used far too often to handily sweep away all opposition. In truth, Thomas E Dewey had become a radical autocrat, ruling his country as if it were a massive military factory. His determination to eliminate De Nil and Van Geyte had driven him mad, corrupt. He didn’t care about the people. The only thing he wanted was more, more bombers, more carriers, more divisions. It had been different years ago.
Menzies grabbed a picture of an odd cloud, shaped by a thin string of smoke rising into the air, an enormous balloon-shaped cloud on top. Project Trinity. Soon, the AOF would have control of the nuclear bomb as well. Intelligence had already pointed out that both Germany and England already possessed a nuclear arsenal, yet neither of the two showed any interest in using them. The bombs remained in Europe, and were not used in any offensive. The war in Australia could have ended months earlier, yet their enemies kept the battle conventional. Maybe there was still some humanity left in the leaders of the Pact. Menzies wondered, would the AOF show the same kind of chivalry after they developed their nuclear arsenal? He sighed and shook his head. Too many had already died on the battlefields. It was as if this war would never end.
The Prime Minister flicked out his desk light and walked to the balcony. A gentle sea beeze caressed his head and for a while, Menzies his thoughts calmed. He stared at the lights of Canberra at the horizon, a beautiful sight spoiled by the many fires that had erupted due to Pact bombing. Why Australia? He thought. It had been proud and beautiful once, and now his nation lay in ruins. Cities like Melbourne and Sydney had been reduced to rubble, corpses and tank wrecks littered every road on the island. Menzies sighed and called for his guard.
“Bishop?”
No response. The air was cool and still as it had been before.
“Bishop, where are you?”
The vast darkness surrounding the Prime Minister did not answer him. Suddenly, he heard a branch snap in two not far from his front door. Something was wrong.
Panicking, Menzies sped through the house, making his way to the back door in an attempt to escape. Surprisingly agile for his age, he slammed open the door and ran towards his car. Suddenly, he stopped. A freezing shiver was sent down his spine as Robert Menzies felt a cold barrel being held against his neck. He exhaled deeply and calmed himself.
“I can assume you are Robert Menzies?”
“Yes, I am.”
“My name is Robert Mayne. By the power vested in me by the Council of the Admiralty and the Channel Pact Head Command, I hereby place you under arrest.”
Menzies grinned “So you must be one of the elusive Special Air Service Brigades we have been hearing about?”
“Yes sir, and I have been tasked to bring you in.”
“On what charges?”
“Unlawful secession from the British Empire.”
“Of course. What did you do to my guard?”
“He has been subdued, sir.”
Menzies his invisible assailant nodded into the darkness “Take him over, chief.”
“Yes sir” A second, brawny SAS soldier stepped into the light, considerably taller than the first one. With amazing strength, the tall soldier grabbed hold of Menzies and cuffed him. In the meanwhile, Robert Mayne switched on his radio, through which two arguing voices could be heard.
“...I swear to god Mahoney, if you pull that on me one more time, I’ll...”
“Would you guys please shut the hell up!?” Menzies observed Mayne as he gave orders through the radio.
“The package has been secured. Mission complete. Meet us at the drop zone and we’ll head back to the sub.” The radio responded “Aye sir”, and Mayne switched it off
“You came by submarine?” Menzies was surprised by the British their inventiveness.
“We needed to be as stealth as possible. You have a long journey ahead of you, sir. Looks like they want to see you in Europe.”
Menzies grinned “Well, I think I could use a holiday right about now.”
“Sure you could. Please follow me.”
Robert Menzies followed the men into the darkness. His reign had ended.
On July 27th, German forces began their final offensive on the city of Canberra. After the retreat of the AOF, the Australian Army found itself abandoned by her allies, outnumbered and outgunned. After the news of the capture of the Australian Prime Minister spread, the remaining government was quick to sign an unconditional peace with the Channel Pact, and spare the Australian population from more destruction.
On the 28th of July, 1946, the sovereign state of Australia was abolished, and the Dominion of Australia reinstated. Now officially a new part of the British Empire, British and German engineers were quickly sent into the ravaged dominion to rebuild the damage done by the war.
The Australian Theatre turned out to be a massive debacle for the large but inefficient AOF troops, who were forced to make a full retreat back to the Americas. Their incapability to fight overseas bode ill for the American Pacific Islands and the little nation of New-Zealand.
