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alex man142

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Chapter 1: England Lives…and Marches On


Melanie yawned as yet another report came in from yet another department somewhere in her massive palace. She looked at the time on one of her monitors: 2:15 AM. No wonder her head was throbbing so much. All she wanted to do was to plop down on her bed next to her husband, but alas, that had to wait for only God knows how long. Totally exhausted and oblivious to her surroundings, she failed to notice a man walk by her team of guards in the hallway outside of her office and up the steps that led to the platform where her desk was.

“Who’s there?” She asked exhaustedly, realizing that someone was standing behind her. If her guards let him through, he had to be vetted.

“Mel, it’s 2:15. Come with me, you really need some sleep.”

“Oh Fletch,” Melanie uttered, placing her head on her desk in utter exhaustion, “I would love to, I really would, but there are so many conference calls that I need to make.”

“Love, when is the last time you had a day off?”

Melanie paused. “Fuck, I have no idea.”

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. The kids miss you dearly. I miss you. I need you.”

“I miss you more Fletch, but Courtney will kill me if I ignore these tasks.”

“Fuck my mom,” Fletcher smiled, digging his hands into Melanie’s shoulders and beginning to massage them. Melanie practically yelped with pleasure as Fletcher rubbed her shoulders back and forth, letting the blood flow and removing all kinks and knots. Her messenger rang, but Melanie was far too engrossed to even hear it.

“You know Fletch,” she said as he winded down. “I should demote you from senior advisor to head massage therapist!” She smiled, her body feeling so much better than it did.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all my love. What are you reading anyways?”

“Ah, some bullshit from the frontier regions. The Cephevad Tribes have a large population of young males who want to prove themselves. They are launching raiding parties into our territory, so I’m just examining our defenses.”

“Very interesting,” he said jokingly.

“Alright senior advisor,” Melanie asked sarcastically, “what should I do?”

“I say you toss those reports into the trash and come with me to our bedroom. We can talk about something that you find interesting…like something historical.”

“Sounds good to me Fletch,” Melanie nodded as she locked up her computer monitors. All the conference calls would wait till the morning. She carefully tucked her seat under the desk, placed important documents in her bag, and closed a door on top of the platform. Walking down the stairs and into the hallway, her guards seamlessly went from guarding the entrance to walking in sync at her sides, blocking all directions from any sort of threat.

“I’ve been thinking Melanie, what if Germany won World War One?”

Melanie stopped, too tired to comprehend what he just asked. “What?”

“What if…”

“No, I heard you. That’s an insane proposition,” she said, continuing to walk down the empty and quiet halls of her palace. “Germany had absolutely no way of winning the war. None at all. They were outnumbered with no resources, blockaded from any shipments, and hemmed in on all sides by enemies. Where did you even get this idea?”

“Well, I’ve been playing a video game…”

“A video game? I thought I banned all of them for corrupting the youth.”

“I have my methods.”

“Which one?”

“A game called Hearts of Iron Four. Made over 200 years ago. There is a mod for it.”

“Mod?”

“A modification. An overhaul. It’s called Kaiserreich, basically a thought experiment on what would happen if Germany won the war. I’ve been playing some sessions in my free time when I’m not busy with anything. It’s quite enjoyable.”

“Fletcher,” Melanie said smartly as they reached their residence. “Look, such an idea is absolutely insane. There is absolutely no way that Germany could have won the war. None, zilch, nada.”

“I dunno, do you think there may be a universe out there where they did?”

“Nope. Come Fletcher. Let me shower. God I need to sleep.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The room was filled with absolute anticipation as the crowd eagerly awaited the speaker to come forth. The room, in Manchester England, was absolutely filled to the brim with people, and the atmosphere was absolutely electric. People were waving flags, shouting slogans, and jumping up and down. Suddenly, the crowd roared. A man, flanked on all sides by well decorated soldiers, began to march down the alley in the center of the room, not paying attention to the adoring fans all around them The crowd erupted into an absolute frenzy of excitement as he walked onto the stage. His presence was all-encompassing as he stood there silently, soaking in the energy of the crowd; indeed, all he had to was raise a finger, and the crowd became silent. He was in control. It was his destiny. The stage was draped with red and white flags.

The room became silent. You could hear a pin drop. Nobody dared to breathe. Suddenly, when the room was totally engrossed, he began.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, silently. “This great meeting, is gathered here tonight, to here the policy and face of Maximism.” He paused again.

“If you think the present system of things can really see you see through, then its idle for our new and virile face of Maximism, I come to you with a new and revolutionary conception of politics, of economics, and of life itself! Indeed, I have another doctrine to put before you, one that will finally be able to destroy our two great enemies, one of which lies across the waters on the continent and the other in the new world.”

The crowd clapped. He sensed their energy: it was time to bring the energy.

“For too long we have suffered from idle words and false promises. The men of the revolution promised us the world, but what have they given us? Dirt and ashes! While our enemies gather in strength and numbers, building for the inevitable conflict that WILL happen, a conflict that they will start to destroy us, our people bicker over meaningless details and idle worlds. How do we expect to fight our foes if we cannot even agree on how to run our government?! How do we expect to survive the great crusade that will come? How?! England is dead under this current system!”

“And now, at long last, our men of the war, our men of 1914, the grim ranks of our ex-service men, again and again betrayed by politicians.” He said, gradually increasing his volume. “They join hands with the NEW YOUTH! The new generation! Which remembers the mighty past! Together, we say that England is not dead! We say, and I ask you to say with us, lift up your voices in this great meeting in the heart of England! Send to the whole world, a message: ENGLAND LIVES AND MARCHES ON!!!”

“Mosely! Mosely! Mosely!” The crowd began to chant loudly. He smiled, raising both of hands into the air and breathing in deeply, taking in the electric energy of the room. Next to him, his friend Eric was cheering louder than anyone.

Oswald Mosely would rule England. He was destined to save it…at any cost.

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(Oswald Mosley speaking in Manchester, 1935)
 
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Hey everyone! Welcome to my second AAR and first one where I actually will be reporting on a game that is occurring. Here are a few heads up:

1. I really am horrible at HOI4. That is why my difficulty is so low.
2. You may have noticed that I buffed some factions. This was intentional.
3. I have a full story of events planned out. This will not be some random experience. I intend to tell a story. There will, of course, be minor variants on how events play out, but the major beats of my canon will play out the way I want them to.
4. Yes, this ties back to my first AAR, Melanie Bernard.

I hope everyone enjoys the story that is coming up!
 
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Very interesting. :) Good luck!
 
Well, let us see what Melanie gets up to this time.
 
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Oswald stared out at the French countryside as his plane flew above it. The endless plains of farmland, picturesque small towns, and vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see; it was a beautiful and cloudless day. He was thinking about many things and many things were on his mind. His daydreaming was disrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

“Oswald,” Eric Blair remarked. He had been sitting across from him. “You look like you are deep in thought.”

“I am Eric.”

“About what if I may ask?”

“All of these lands, all of these vineyards, all of these towns, they need to be the ones that defend the revolution. War is coming Eric, and its coming sooner than you would ever think.”

“I know. We are most certainly ready to defeat the Germans. I can see us storming Berlin any day now. Then we can spread the revolution all over the entire world.”

“We aren’t ready.”

“What do you mean?”
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



OrwellBurmaPassport.jpg

Eric Blair was born on June 25, 1903 in Motihari in what was once part of the British Raj. When he was one years old, his family moved back to England to raise him back in the homeland. His family wanted him to attend public schooling, but his mother could not afford the fee. He won a scholarship and the headmaster made a special arrangement with his family, but this blatant wealth inequality deeply shamed and horrified him, radicalizing him from a young age towards more leftist beliefs.

While he was in school, the first Weltkreig broke out in Europe, sending tens of thousands of young men just like him to their deaths. The scope of the war astonished him, and it was all in vain. France was overrun by German troops for the second time in less than one hundred years, and England was forced to a humiliating white peace. The British economy was utterly devastated, and confidence in her institutions was crushed. The Island became a hotbed of radical beliefs and ideas and the once proud of the British Empire agonized over what went wrong.

In 1924, He was denied a job in Burma as a police officer. As a result, Eric entered politics for the first time with the Labour Party on a radical pacifist platform, denouncing any future wars. His oratory was confident and radical, with much of the public inspired by the stories of his youth. His fervor and zeal for change was strong, but the Labour Party, in his mind, stifled the change that he believed needed to occur. He was only twenty-one at the time.

In 1925, Eric found himself in the deeply conservative stronghold of Birmingham England. England was in the midst of immense turmoil, and the people of Birmingham were ready to stomp out the revolution that was taking place right under their eyes. Eric and other liberals were rounded up and about to be torn apart by a mob of loyalists, when suddenly, one of the people captured with him began to speak. That person was Oswald Mosley. Oswald delivered the most stirring speech Eric had ever heard, and the crowd was absolutely captivated with his zeal and fervor for the revolutionary cause. In just a few minutes, Oswald somehow bargained his release and turned the entire mob to the socialist cause. In a series of speeches, the rest of Birmingham followed suit and joined the revolution that was spreading across England.

In that very moment, Eric became one of Oswald Mosely’s most fervent and loyal supporters. It had been ten years since those faithful days, Mosely’s fame and political clout had only risen and risen. Eric, through his own charisma and intellect quickly rose to be Oswald Mosely’s second in command. They had developed an entirely new and radical theory of politics and economics, designed to ensure the survival of the revolution and now, they were on a plane to meet with other Maximist leaders around the world to create and combined charter to present to the world.

No matter what was about to happen, Eric was sure that he would be at Oswald’s side through thick and thin and to the end.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Oswald sighed, “I mean that there is opposition to what must occur in order to us to survive. People are so idealistic that it gets in the way of reality. The cold hard truth is that Germany is more powerful than France and England combined and can easily crush us if they so desired. The only thing keeping us alive is their inaction. We need to act, and decisively.”

“Do you have any hope about the future Oswald?”

“I have more hope than you could ever imagine. We will win this war…we must.”

“I am certain that you will succeed in being nominated as chairman.”

“There is intense opposition to me you as you well know. Snowden really does not have much affection for me.”

“He will be dealt with soon enough.”

“Yes. Eric, even if I win, and that is a big if, other nations could sour on what must be done. France is also going through what will surely be a contentious election on their own end. The, heaven forbid, anarcho-syndicalists could win and surely usher in their demise. We need France.”

“Understood.”

“That is why we are going to this conference. This next few months will surely be one of the most important in all of history. Eric, I want you to be aware of the gravity of the situation. The charter that we will surely come up with must be the ideal that drives Socialism. If we fail, the revolution is dead.”

“Oswald, I have seen you do things that…seem to defy reality itself. I saw you almost miraculously convince a hostile crowd,” Eric said, placing his hand on Oswald’s shoulder, “You will do what needs to be done.”

“Yes Eric, we will do what needs to be done.”
 
To setup a friendship like that --- the cynical me immediately suspects it is going to fall apart. In a way I hope I am wrong.
 
To setup a friendship like that --- the cynical me immediately suspects it is going to fall apart. In a way I hope I am wrong.
Indeed. I hope that won't happen.
 
Phillip Snowden leaned back at his desk, groaning with pleasure as he forcefully stretched his arms over his head and behind the chair, stretching out his tortured limbs, tired and worn down after over seventy years of use. Phillip was nearing the end of his life, and all the worrying about the affairs of state were not making his health any better than before. The next few weeks would certainly be trying times for the Union of Britain.

Just a few days prior, Alexander Kerensky, the president of Russia, had been assassinated in broad daylight, plunging Russia into chaos. When the dust settled, Lavr Kornilov managed to seize the apparatus of the state with the help of one Boris Savinkov and his supporters. Maybe the Soviets could launch a war, but the odds of the happening were decreasing by the day. It was a shame: Russia could have proven to be a solid ally against Germany: perhaps sending support to rouse up some chaos would be a good option?

Deep in thought, Philip was rudely awakened by one of his personal attendants slamming into the door and falling onto the floor. A newspaper humorously flew out of his hands, all of the pages sprawling onto the floor.

“Woah there boy! What is the matter?” Phillip exclaimed with surprise.

“Sir…Oswald Mosely,” the attendant said, trying to collect the pages of the paper back.

“Spit it out man!”

“Yes chairman!” The young man fumbled but managed to awkwardly slam the front page of a newspaper onto Snowden’s desk, knocking several pens and papers off of the desk in the process Snowden scanned it over carefully, soaking in every word of the headline.
20180905204445_1.jpg


“You…you can go now,” Snowden said breathlessly, pointing for the man to leave. Embarrassed and his face red with shame, the man ran out of the room, probably replaying the events in his mind.

Snowden leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply, his fists resting on his mouth, his mind deep in contemplation. Oswald Mosely and himself had never really gotten along well at all: the two men hated each other with a deep passion born out of a pure ideological clash. Phillip was an old fashioned leftist who found himself adopting a French style of Syndicalism after the Revolution a decade ago. Phillip was a supporter of democracy and freedom of the people to congregate and choose their own leaders. The only reason he had been in power for so long was because he was one of the only leaders that satisfied the various factions of the Trade Union Congress. Now that his health was failing, an election was coming up, something that many people were dreading. Phillip never really enjoyed ruling, hated public speech, and was opposed to holding power.

Oswald Mosely was the complete opposite of Snowden in just about every way. He was power hungry, held massive public rallies on a near daily basis, and wanted to centralize the state in ways that Phillip could have never dreamed possible. Grabbing a page off of the floor, Phillip read with shock the elements of the Totalist Charter. Phillip could only hope that the people of the Trade Union Congress would reject this utter madness. If they went with Oswald…who knew what would come of it. Surely the people of England were better than this.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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“People of England! I say to you with the utmost faith, we will rise again from the ashes of despair and once again take our place among the great powers of the world! We will, and we must, secure the Revolution and ensure the demise of our enemies!”

The crowed erupted into chants of Oswald. He lifted his hand, the crowd growing silent.

“Friends,” Oswald began, almost whispering. “A great series of events are about to come, for our friend and leader Phillip Snowden is retiring and the Congress will select a new leader, a leader that will have sway to control our destiny. I say that this will be the most important election in the history of our great island. The man who takes control will guide us into the future, and he must be the right man for the job.”

“Who will that be?!” Came a voice from the crowd.

“Great question! People, look to your left and to your right. Everyone here has a voice, and I need you to use it. I ask you a favor. Together, and with voices raised high, swarm your representatives, and tell them this: any man opposed to the charter that I have formulated will see the end of the England!!!”

The crowd erupted into a zealous frenzy.

“Any man opposed to centralizing the state is supporting the destruction of the Revolution. Any man who supports the chaos that some of my fellows advocate for support German occupation of London. Any man who denies the rule of the state in the advancement of our great Revolution supports the destruction of Socialism. And finally, any man who opposes Totalism is a traitor to our state!!!”

Oswald grinned from ear to ear as the crowd chanted his name. He leaped from the stage and stood on the railings dividing the crowd from the stage, reaching into the frenzied mass of supporters. People were crying and cheering, reaching their arms in a desperate frenzy to merely touch Oswald’s sleeve or hand. Mosely was a celebrity in every single sense of the word.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So Oswald,” Eric Blair said as they both boarded a car, “what now?”

“Eric, we will go to London and to the Trade Union Congress. There, I will make my case before the Congress to elect me as chairman.”

“I know that…I meant, what do you think will happen in the world?”

“I feel that the United States will go into civil war soon, that may be our best hope to advance our cause….”

“Sir,” a uniformed supporter said, knocking on the car window and holding a newspaper.

“What is it?” Oswald gruffed, lowering the window. The supporter handed him a paper.
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“So it begins.”
 
Indeed it does.

I do feel a bit sorry for Snowden.
 
Oswald is a dangerous man.
 
The air was unimaginably tense. Eric could taste the tension as their car drove down the streets of London towards the Trade Union Congress. Next to him was Oswald Mosely and his wife Cynthia. While Cynthia looked incredibly nervous and was fidgeting all over the place, Oswald was still and calm like usual, a dogged determination emanating from him. Eric Blair himself was afraid yet confident at the same time, reassured by his friend’s demeanor.

All around them, crowds were forming. Oswald’s car was in the middle of a large convoy of armed supporters, a tactic that seemed to keep the angry protestors at bay. Police were beating back hostile crowds and were struggling to maintain order. Much of London was impacted by chaotic street battles between Totalist members and members of other parties opposed to Mosely and his plans. This was expected, so Oswald deliberately flooded the streets with Maximist party members.
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“Damn Oswald, I never knew that this meeting would cause this much chaos,” Eric remarked, observing the chaos unfolding all around him.

cablest.jpg


“Traitors, all of them,” Cynthia exclaimed, her left knee fidgeting up and down wildly, occasionally hitting Eric’s leg. She knew that this was possibly the most important day in her husband’s life.

“We will end this madness soon enough,” Oswald said, watching his hardened supporters easily beat back protestors. “We will prevail.”

“Oswald, no matter what happens, I will have your back,” Eric smiled, looking at his friend.

“I know.”

The convoy rolled through several secure gates manned by armed guards. The car came to a stop in-front of a set of stairs that led up to the main hall where the Congress met. A uniformed attendant exited the passenger seat in the front of the car and opened Oswald’s door, saluting as he exited the car. A crowd of supporters cheered as Oswald, Cynthia, and Eric exited the car. Waiting for them was none other than Phillip Snowden himself. Leaning on a cane, Snowden approached Oswald.

“You’re late Mosely,” Snowden gruffed, refusing to shake Oswald’s hand. The group began to walk up the stairs.

“I know, I like to make an entrance,” Oswald smirked, holding his wife’s hand.

“Well, you certainly did so. How does it feel to leave much of London on fire? Your recklessness is almost as grand as your hunger for power.”

“Good, because I am going to end this madness when I’m elected as chairman.”

“We will see about that Oswald,” Phillip frowned.

“Yes we will.”

Approaching the main entrance, Eric began to freeze out of a bit of nervousness. Oswald laid his hand on Eric’s shoulder.

“Breathe son…breathe.”

The doors opened, and almost immediately, the room lit up like a powder keg. Hostile enemies of Oswald’s plans immediately rose from their seats and began to hurl insults at the delegation that was entering the room. Supporters tried to yell even louder, causing the room to devolve into a chaotic mess. Phillip angrily walked up to this chair and began to, with great effort, bang his wooden hammer on the desk.

“Order! Order!!” Phillip barked. The room slowly but surely began to calm down as everyone took their seats. “I am old, and I am frail,” he remarked faintly, “so I will not tolerate any sort of disruptions or remarks today. Anyone who is out of order will be removed from the proceedings if they ignore my warnings. Direct insults will not be tolerated. We all know the rules here, and none of us are children. Have I made myself clear? Good. On the order of business today is the selection of a new head of government and the structure of the government that will result from this change. I will recognize speakers as I see fit, and they will speak in the allotted times. The chair begins by recognizing Niclas y Glais.

“What an old fool,” Oswald whispered to Eric as Niclas stood up to speak. Next to them, Cynthia was rapidly bouncing her legs nervously, but looked eager to speak.
Oswald-Diana-Mosley.jpg


“I agree,” Eric whispered, laughing.

“Fellow members of the Trade Union Congress, I come forward with great reluctance and humility. I also come with a plea: these next few hours will undoubtedly be the most important in the history of the Union, for we will decide our future, a future that our children will live in. I urge, no, I beg everyone here to consider the implications of whatever they choose to vote for. We could betray the revolution and those who fought for it by choosing tyranny and authoritarianism, or we can…”

“Point of order!” Cynthia Mosely yelled zealously, standing up. Oswald was surprised but made no effort to stop her.

“What is it Mrs. Mosely?” Phillip said unenthusiastically.

“Referring to our side as tyranny or authoritarianism is a direct insult.”

“Point of order denied. Please continue Niclas.”

“Thank you Chairman, we can betray the revolution by choosing tyranny, or we can support its ideals by liberating our fellow workers and giving them a say in our government and how it runs. I urge you all to deny those who would destroy all that we hold dear, tempting us with words of honey and promises of wealth. These words of honey are filled with poison, and this wealth will rot away under the weight of evil. With this mind, I humbly place myself in the running to become the next head of government. I hope that we all reject tyranny and instead, support hope and peace.”

The hall clapped eagerly. Phillip banged his gavel, ordering all to silence. “The chair recognizes the honorable Commissar for the Exchequer, Oswald Mosely.”

Immediately, the room turned hostile. Niclas’s supporters began to hurl insults and shout slogans, drowning any attempt on behalf of Mosely to speak. Eric sat there angrily as the room turned more and more hostile. Several members of the congress left their seats and began to approach the Maximist corner of the hall. Maximist supporters rose from their seats and scuffles broke out. In the chaos, Oswald did not notice Eric leave his seat and go all the way around towards Snowden’s seat.

“Men!” Came a voice booming through the microphones. The crowd stopped fighting, almost as if on cue. There in the middle of it all was Eric Blair, standing where Snowden normally did.

It was time for Eric to speak.
georgeorwell.jpg
 
And what, I wonder, will Eric say.
 
It was almost miraclous. The entire hall stood silent as Eric Blair called the entire assembly to silence, all of the scuffling and fighting coming to an end. Oswald’s eyes widened in wonder at the pure command that Eric had over the Trade Union Congress. Phillip Snowden, pushed from his seat during the chaos, leaned against a column and began to listen.

Editor’s Note: What follows is a direct transcription obtained from a secretary who was in the room as Eric Blair (note, strike that name through if this gets published) spoke. This is the only remaining copy of what was said during that fateful hour.

“Men! Englishmen! Fellow revolutionaries! Men of the War! I have been a in politics for over a decade now, first as a member of the Labour Party, and then more recently, a proud member of the Trade Union Congress. I have long supported Socialist ideals and I believe that my qualifications are without doubt or under any sort of suspicion.

This circus that is before us is appalling and deeply shameful and I have never seen such barbarism in my life. What are we? Are we pigs…animals… mindless people roaming to and fro? Or are we the men who broke the chains of oppression and ushered in the new and revolutionary conception of our ideal state?! We destroyed a monarchy, wiped out an army, and drove a near millennia old nation off of our fair island. This shameful act of insanity is beneath us and below who we are as a proud people who have done incredible things.

Niclas, your oratory broke the back of the Welsh loyalists and drove our poor miners to revolt. Annie, your rhetoric brought tens of thousands of women to break their chains and join us. Arthur, your leadership kept our boat afloat during the turbulent waves that nearly submerged us. Snowden…your accomplishments are too many to even begin to recall. Thank you for your service.

I am forgetting an important name, a man who was just as instrumental as everyone in this room. That man is a friend and he sits right behind me. That man is Oswald Mosely.

I know Oswald more than just about anyone…aside from his wife Cynthia of course. Who faced a loyalist mob when they threatened to kill many of us? Oswald did. Who went town by town, giving rousing speeches to loyalists and those who opposed us? Oswald did. Who led our economy through those dark years, allowing us to be spared of the greater world economy and German industry? Oswald did! Time and time again, Oswald has shown his absolute dedication to Socialism. If I support Socialism, he lives and breathes it.

These calls of tyrant and totalitarian are just that, calls, false ones at that. Oswald cares about nothing more than the success of our state. I see that every day. His history proves that.

Some of his proposals may seem controversial, but I do not see need for this. His economic proposals of centralization and direct control have borne nothing but fruit. Just look at the United States and Germany! Their economies are in the absolute gutter, and yet despite this, our economy is perfectly fine! Oswald has successfully led us away from the greater world economy, and we owe him a debt.

Militarily, this come as a surprise….but I see his point. Yes, I ran as a pacifist opposing war, but we have many enemies. Across the Atlantic, the monarchists plot their return to our Island, and there are undoubtedly loyalists on this island, even in this very room. Yes, in this very room. What is across the channel? Germany! The most powerful nation on this globe mocks us and openly calls for our destruction on a daily basis. How can we keep our collective heads in the sand and pretend that we can this utopia while enemies seek to wipe us out? As long as the King claims our home as his, we will never be truly free. We must seek peace through strength. The only way we can have our long desired peace is if our enemies are destroyed. If this means a great war for the Revolution, then so be it.

Many here call for autonomy for the various states of our Congress. This is lunacy. How can we coordinate any sort of effort amongst four or even five various Trade Union Congresses? What is the bigger number…five or one? One nation, one army, one purpose. If we end this unity, then we will be weaker because of it. If we succumb to factionalism and autonomy, then we will die. Together, we are unbeatable. Separated, we are weak and frail. Oswald is correct in that we need one centralized government that can keep the peace and enforce our laws and customs.

I know that I am speaking for a long time, and I apologize, but this display of madness led me to express my passion. Oswald is someone that I respect as a friend…a mentor…and even a father. His passion for our cause is infectious and he commands a following that dwarfs everyone else here. That is undeniable. Outside, thousands of people call his name and demand his election as chairman. We would be foolish to deny their voice.

For these reasons and more, I, Eric Arthur Blair, do announce that I will cast my vote for the only man who can lead us through what will inevitably be hard times for our nation. The United States may burst apart into war, Germany will most likely war with the Commune, and the world economy has recently been broken down. These coming times will be the hardest in our nation, and I know nobody more qualified than Oswald Mosely to lead us. Do not let your personal feelings sway you away from making the right choice.

Thank you."
______________________________________________________________________________

"Eric Blair, you mean George Orwell, the guy who wrote 1984? He was a fucking Communist?" A young woman exclaimed loudly, slamming the book on the table.

"Who is George Orwell? What is 1984? I've never heard of it."

"You don't know 1984? Where the hell am I?!?!"
 
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I was wondering when our traveller might make an appearance.
 
Just look at the United States and Germany! Their economies are in the absolute gutter, and yet despite this, our economy is perfectly fine!
But that's just because the Kaiserreich devs are filthy syndies, Eric! :p
 
The worker calmly took Phillip Snowden’s portrait off of the wall as Cynthia, Eric, and Oswald watched. Oswald smirked slightly as another team of workers quickly put a portrait of him in its place. They nailed it in, carefully lined it up perfectly, and left as quickly as they entered. The trio stared at it, admiring the work.

“What do you think?” Oswald asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

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“I rather like it, looks just like you!” Cynthia exclaimed excitedly.

“Well, I had one commissioned of you, considering you are my foreign minister and all.”

Cynthia blushed, “I hope it’s as good as this one.”

“General Secretary, what do you think?”

“Hmm,” Eric started, “I think they messed up your mustache Oswald. They made that piece of hair on your lip far more beautiful than it is in real life.”

“Don’t get me started Eric,” Oswald laughed.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied sarcastically.

“Shall I commission a portrait to grace your office?”

“As long as it makes me more attractive than you, yes.”

Oswald playfully punched Eric in the shoulder. “How dare you talk to your chairman like that! I could easily have you exiled for insulting me like that, or even worse! I could have you killed. I demand that you apologize.”

“I basically single-handedly got you elected Oswald! I don’t think you would dare exile me.”

“I’ll have to concede that point Eric.”

“Say Cynthia, I need to speak with Eric, how about you go and decorate your new office? I’ll stop by later and help.”

“Alright Oswald, I’ll see you later.”

“Eric,” Oswald said more seriously as Cynthia walked down the hall, “I need some advice.”

“Anything.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Oswald remarked as the pair walked down the hall, “there are a lot of external problems that we need to deal with…but we have major internal ones as well. Things here are far more unstable than I would like to admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eric, I may have been elected as chairman of this Union, but there are many people who do not like me one bit.”

“Like who? I must admit I have been out of the loop these last few weeks?”

“Niclas called me a tyrant in a speech this morning, and Snowden wrote a column denouncing my ideas and ideology. I cannot risk having this opposition during these trying times. They may try something that could risk the stability of our Union.”

“Why are you scared of them?”

“I’m not,” Oswald replied, closing the door to his office. “I’m just saying that these times will be hard, and I would love to not have to worry about things on the home-front. You understand?”

“I understand Oswald.”

“What should we do?”

“Perhaps…well…some good old fashioned propaganda would do the trick. Maybe some Commissars or commissioners to spread our word amongst the people. People will hesitate to speak out if they have their offices threatened by their own constituents. It doesn’t have to be anything too insane, just a bit of truth telling if you understand what I’m saying.”

“Like a Minister of Truth?”

“Exactly.”

“Hmm,” Oswald said, moving some boxes around his desk. “Alright Eric, I appoint you as this Commissar. Spread the word.”

“Your gospel will be spread far and wide.”

“Good,” Oswald smiled. “Now, get to it. I need to arrange my new office.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


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Eric Blair carefully walked at the scene of the crime. It was a blatant attack right in the middle of the day in the heart of London, something that wasn’t exactly usual. A group of people had been shot dead, their bodies filled with bullet holes, their clothes taken off and their bodies mutinied. A building behind them had been burned to the ground.

“Secretary!” A police officer yelled. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the chaos,” Eric replied. “What the hell happened here?”

“Sir, we heard shots, then as we came closer our police came under heavy fire. Before we could call in reinforcements the criminals were gone. I have never seen such a disaster.”

“Have you identified the victims?”

“Sir, this was a political gathering, I believe in support of Niclas Y Glais, but we need to ascertain further.”

“Good…get on with your work.”

Eric Blair walked carefully amongst the bodies. Several of his propaganda posters had been nailed right into the faces of the dead. He could barely contain his stomach: the smell of burning hair and flesh filled with the air. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the stomachs of several of the victims had been covered with inscriptions.

Hail Comrade Mosely: Down with the Traitors!

Eric’s face grew white. This was a political attack.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cynthia grinned excitedly as she scanned over the paper. Eric was deep in contemplation, playing with his lunch. She was all smiles, and was giggling softly under her breath. She was clearly trying to get Eric’s attention. Realizing that he wasn’t paying attention, she finally tapped him on the shoulder.

“Eric!”

“Apologies, I was thinking.”

“No matter, you have to read this.”

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“Wow, the Vietnamese have risen up against Germany? No matter, I bet there are barely armed with sticks and stones. Germany will easily kill the rice peasants. I don’t know why you are so happy.”

“Well, I’m happy because any chance to strike at the Germans is news to me. France has already sent volunteers to Vietnam, and we will send advisers. Perhaps the Indochina will finally see some freedom from oppression for once.”

“Perhaps. I doubt that the pacifist hawks in the Congress will agree to such an audacious plan however.”

“We don’t have to worry about them, especially when Oswald combines the offices of Secretary and Chair….”

“What?!”

Cynthia realized that she should not have said that. “I didn’t say that,” she quickly blurted out.

“What did you say just then?”

Cynthia sighed. “Oswald wants to combine the offices of Secretary and Chairperson into one. Something about streamlining the positions.”

“What about the Constitution though?”

“He’ll get around it.”




 
Oh Eric, you fool.