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The Popular Front- France and the Second World War

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An early war? At France's instigation? This is not your father's timeline. I'm interested to hear the great equivocator's take on this. The in-game modeling is not in your favor, but France - Poland - Czech together at this point would have been awfully tough on Germany.

Vann
 
KoM: Greetings, Yngling!

Vann: It's all hypothetical: the French are flying by the seat of their pants, and they were caught with their pants down, ... and... they're living on a wing and a... pants?

March 14, 1938

Galen Furstner thrust his hand out. "Heil!" He walked past the sentries, his hand just a shade too tight on the handle of his briefcase. These were tense times to be a spy. The French wanted him available at any moment, ready to spring into action in any direction, at the same time the Nazis were cracking down.

Furstner nodded as he walked down the hallway, as Karl von Pinne joined him. Von Pinne glanced idly over his shoulder before he leaned in.

"Galen- have you heard anything?"

Furstner shook his head tightly. "Nothing yet. You'd think, eh?"

"You would." Von Pinne opened his office door. He gave the sign that said he'd checked for bugs. The office was a dingy hole- he'd been kicked into it temporarily during some renovations, and never asked to be moved out. It was nestled in a hidden corner of Abwehr Headquarters, and it was surrounded by thick support-bearing walls that kept conversations quiet.

Von Pinne scratched his neck. "Good God." He exhaled sharply and fixed Furstner with a stare. "Do you think Charlie is Oster?"

Furstner snorted. "I have no idea who Charlie is. That's the whole point. We're not supposed to know who Charlie is." He rubbed his eyes. "That having been said, no, I don't think it's Oster. He wouldn't work with the French. Him or Canaris." Furstner drummed his fingers. "You know Charlie's going to get in touch with us at any moment."

Von Pinne nodded. "I do. I lay awake at night cursing. I hope they've got a damn plan. Every day that goes by makes everything a lot more dangerous. All the intercepts we've intercepted- they talk about something happening fast."

"Fast is the opposite of safe."

"Don't I damn know it."

Furstner stood and stretched. "In for a penny, in for a pound. I've just now decided that I don't give a damn anymore, and I'm just going to wait for life to surprise me like a Buddhist."

"And look where it's got them."

"Well, look where we got us."

"Touche." Von Pinne stood and shook Furstner's hand. "You let me know the second you hear. I am dying to get this over and done with."

Furstner nodded. "Whatever 'this' turns out to be."
 
March 14, 1936

Blum listened to the radio, his fury boiling.

"The Foreign Secretary saw the German Foreign Minister on the 10th March, and addressed to him a grave warning on the Austrian situation and upon what appeared to be the policy of the German Government in regard to it... Late on the 11th March, our Ambassador in Berlin registered a protest in strong terms with the German Government against such use of coercion, backed by force, against an independent State in order to create a situation incompatible with its national independence. Such action, Sir Nevile Henderson pointed out, was bound to produce the gravest reactions, of which it would be impossible to foretell the issue. Earlier that day I made earnest representations in the same sense to the German Minister for Foreign Affairs..."

Chamberlain. The sniveling dog. Blum knew what was coming. Ambassador Corbin had sent on notes from a meeting with Churchill. It seemed like Churchill was the only man in Parliament willing to back Blum.

"Quite apart from this, His Majesty's Government are, and always must be, interested in developments in Central Europe, particularly events such as those which have just taken place..."

Blum knew exactly what all this really meant. It was the balance of power again. Chamberlain and his idealist backers, the clueless bastards. Keep France in line. Make France bleed itself keeping up with the Germans, keep France dependent. So easy to take the brutal, cynical old politics and dress them up in starry words.

"This is not a moment for hasty decisions or for careless words. We must consider the new situation quickly, but with cool judgment... As regards our defense programs, we have always made it clear that they were flexible and that they would have to be reviewed from time to time in the light of any development in the international situation. It would be idle to pretend that recent events do not constitute a change of the kind that we had in mind. Accordingly we have decided to make a fresh review, and in due course we shall announce what further steps we may think it necessary to take."

Blum didn't wait for the hisses and applause, the shouts and demands that passed for debate in the House of Commons. He'd heard enough.

"Due course," he muttered. He shook with rage. To hear this from the radio- that Britain would back down in the name of peace and embarrass his government...

He couldn't act without the British. Without the British, the Czechs refused to commit and Poland was backing away as well. Even if he miraculously got a declaration of war from the Assembly... It'd be the trenches all over again. The humiliation. First the Rhineland, now this.

A knock, and the door opened. A delegation of his Socialists, waiting for the word. He sighed.

"There is no war. We need to save face. Issue a statement; we protest again in the strongest possible terms, insult to the League of Nations, however, Austria in the end an internal German matter, we stand firm in defense of our allies and hope for peace, et cetera. Go, please."

Blum slammed his fist on the table. He called in de Lattre. The General appeared in the doorway.

"De Lattre, I want them hurt. Do you understand? Not just revenge or harsh words. Maybe we can't stop them, but we need to slow them down. I want something effective done, and I want it now."

De Lattre mused for a few seconds. "Prime Minister, I believe I have an opportunity for you."
 
An opportunity eh? Perhaps those German friends of De Lattre will have a job to do after all, and probably not a job they'll enjoy from the sound of it.
 
great stuff ... I will look forward to your further updates !! :)
 
Clearly something espionage; something that will hurt them.

I'm guessing sabotaging research?
 
Welcome aboard, Fernando! I cannot tell you if you're safe or not, obviously. You'll have to keep reading, I'm afraid.

Faeelin's entry is noted. If you want to participate, post quick. You know how fast it goes when I get the itch to post. *paws at the dust impatiently*
 
Prufrock451 said:
About 24 hours to our next post. Are you going to let Faeelin win by default?

Tick tock!
Click to expand...

Yes, yes they do.
 
An assassination maybe? Will we be seeing our highly skilled French commando with his Angolan sidekick?
 
This is a tricky situation for France. They can't be too open about what they are going to do and I doubt that they will go as low as to assasinate someone. And I don't think that supporting Communist resistance will do them much good either - although the Popular Front surely has connections to the underground in Germany.

I'd have to go with some kind of sabotage as well. Blum ordered to "slow the Germans down", so my guess is either research or production sabotage on a critical scale. I am more inclined to think production sabotage. The game does not allow you to sabotage IC directly, but as France I would definetly be looking at ways to create a shortage of critical resources in Germany, either rare metal alloys, fuels and petrochemicals or perhaps rubber?

:) Jesper
 
my first post in this AAR

looks great so far, and good luck! :)
 
March 16, 1938

Jean-Pierre Gaspard sat awkwardly and shifted in his seat. The men around the table were all wearing nondescript clothing, but a few of them had the ramrod-stiff back and square shoulders of military men. More than a couple had the hard eyes of killers. Gaspard swallowed and shakily lit his Gauloise.

"Professor Gaspard. You have been informed of the penalties for divulging any of the information in this meeting."

Gaspard nodded. "I have, yes."

"You are familiar with the gravity of the international situation."

"The annexation of Austria. And the rumors say that Prime Minister Blum is upset with the other Allies for-"

"We do not require a briefing on this."

Gaspard swallowed again. "Of... of course."

The man across the table lit a Gauloise of his own. He regarded Gaspard for a long moment. A couple of momentary glances around the table. He sighed and leaned forward.

"You are an adjunct professor of economics at the Sorbonne. You travel to international conferences and maintain correspondence with colleagues throughout Europe and the Americas. You are fluent in four languages and capable in three others." The man slid out a dossier. "You were conscripted in 1918, briefly served in the Rhineland occupation force, and closely considered a career in the regular Army."

Gaspard swallowed. "That's... all in the public record. My correspondence is a normal part of my career as a professor..." His eyes widened. "Do- do you think I'm a spy? I would never-"

The man rapped his knuckles on the table. "Professor!" He took a slow drag off his cigarette. "You are here precisely because we do not believe you are a spy."

Gaspard blinked. "Are you... recruiting me?"

"No." The man smiled briefly, a tight jerk of a muscle in his face pulling his mouth taut. "You are already recruited. Now we see if you fulfill the task assigned to you."

Gaspard looked around the table. The faces were still hard, still evaluating him. He choked out a nervous laugh. "But I... I'm an academic."

The man pushed the dossier across the table. "Just read."

---

Yes- we have a winner. Of course I'm not saying who the winner is yet.
 
March 17, 1938

Gaspard read through his notes, for the fourth time since he boarded the train. He was having a hard time keeping his composure. Every time someone walked by, he waited for the heavy hand to clap on his shoulder. Uniforms- and they were everywhere in Kiel- made sweat break out on his lip.

God, he looked like a miserable spy.

He was on his way to Berlin, for an academic conference. He was speaking at a dinner lecture as well, presenting a synopsis of his research on colonial economics. The gist of it was that the British and French empires were unsustainable in the long run. It was fashionable in France to agree with Gaspard's conclusions, because they flattered leftist idealism. It was fashionable in Germany to agree because Gaspard's conclusions were bad for the Allies.

All he knew was that he would be met in Berlin by someone who would actually walk him through what was about to happen. He'd read the dossier. He'd memorized everything they'd told him to memorize. He was still confused. On purpose, likely- the less he knew, the less he'd be able to say.

Gaspard stared out the window. The conductor walked past again, and Gaspard's heart seized up. God. Days more of this...
 
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