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Blackoberst

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I'm sure the mishap with the drop site was a complete accident. Luckily the Oberst was able to make the best of a bad situation, and secure the location. I'm sure the joint debriefing will yield stellar results. As for the disappearing documents, well, scientists are well known for living inside their minds, so maybe that's where they kept their notes :D
 
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Aussie Perun

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Snapshot: Operation Nemesis

Saint Petersburg

“This wasn’t meant to be possible. I was told they would need heavy water and uranium ores. We have made it a state policy to deny the Internationale these things, so explain.” Vladimir tossed the folio of images of the Damocles-II atomic pile back onto the desk “what I'm seeing here?”

lMEe5yn4BUMqNtHMdqI3GsYcfkJxgnZTrntDsmKVFfNhfYsBsuK6gaPwNnpdnxjjaDmd06UjYB319hoEUsAfXrzzmBqEZbQ3-a_UUSed6Z31HcCw_4TUGQiWARQW9I7wTmaxOdlP=s0

Sokhov was still standing, one man and his Tsar in a room normally crammed with a dozen or more decision makers.

“As I understand it , our program does use the special water from Vemork as a moderator, but the Red design uses heavy blocks of solid Graphite instead. Perhaps not the optimum solution, but it does work.”

33nPITf8LXCgBtpV4TdijCTtYgT63AsquoqwpxHN05KIa13D1Uvatv-zg9ammsyBUmSlArBXsUzr-MGI5m2Y-wxqHgOIsvoMEFlB9sUCp_bzQu_sZfsAN_0gw53mOyGku3vxOrO7=s0

Vladimir ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “And the uranium?”

“Canadian, from the Americans. We estimate they must have been shipping a majority of their production to Britain.”

“But we can’t be sure of that Sokhov, we can’t be sure of anything anymore.”

“Yes Majesty.”

“I took some security, comfort from the idea that we were ahead in this venture. There are few things that could undo all that we’ve achieved. Now I no longer know.”

“We’re preparing an updated intelligence brief, once the situation is secure, we’ll have members of The Projekt inspect all three Damocles sites and debrief the captives. We can provide a revised estimate of the maturity of the project then.”


Silence hung.

“If your Majesty would like to engage the Austri…”

“Well that’s going to be a complicated question now isn’t it? They'll notice just how many physics departments we must have raided at this point. The last Pole, wasn’t exactly quiet about the paycheck he’d be pulling. And if we want access to any of their talent, I expect there will be hard diplomatic questions that I don't want to have to answer.”


0wE5m31LOtyTX4nE8Jy4toAgHKNanQTaxsGtmifhWVgZtpzLwPU1waFsebSqojaXo1wL_a29K2FHBXfp2WfC7MTF3TQPe79aZ7FeO1ILZBC4l051zPMVF0ktyWKginMfCBmasGad=s0

Stanislaw Ulam


“Competition for everything will increase. My only hope is they look at the costs involved and decide no sane ruler would commit their Empire to such a venture.”

Sokhov nodded “if we need to increase surveillance over any efforts by Vienna to stand up their own Project..”

Vladimir dropped his hands to the desk. “I’m not worried about the Austrians Sokhov. They’re only an issue insofar as they might slow us down; the problems that would flow from their success are problems for another time. What worries me, what terrifies me, is what the Americans might be doing with these ideas now Mosley isn’t siphoning their resources.”

Sokhov bowed “of course, Majesty.”


Undisclosed Location


“What the fuck is this?” Beria barked as Sokhov’s man shoved his books off the table and wheeled in box after box of files. Beria wetly licked the last of his dinner off his fingers as he grew redder with outrage. As Sokhov stepped through the door, he suddenly mollified.

“General. Finally. Explain to me why, almost a year after my performance I am still here, living this pathetic, pantomime existence. You promised..”

“It’s done.”


Beria paused. “What is?”

“The delay has been for your appeal Beria, that thing civilised nations have where your Lawyer, who doesn’t know any better, is desperately trying to convince the Court that your crimes are, legally speaking, not quite so heinous as to deserve death.”


Beria chuckled “poor idiot. When you mock up the film of you killing the great Beria, make sure he sees it, I want him to know his last year has been almost as wasted as mine.”

“Like I said, that’s ending. We have six weeks until your big show. They’ll let the news out of Britain slow in the papers, then, when it’ll make headlines, it’s time for your moment. Then we move you on.”


Beria sat down and poured himself another glass of wine. “Six more weeks of this trash? I’ll expect visitors.”

jUQssc2xcPXspJXlxtyvpdd9VIr-3v5bK2u5IRWjvtajY89QLMaC8rHn9_nKHi5XIZvKb09rFMqwNj9KIUSyZlt2UszH-KcL92KlOPlRRapC0LF60WBKZ1VeL-ujfxDS-uVIg7Ji=s0

Sokhov nodded and took a seat across the table as he dismissed his men with a wave. They filed out and the door closed. “You’ll have them, but I expect something in return.”

“Don’t you always Comrade General?”
Beria thought for a moment, “make it the blonde from two weeks back. God she tries so hard, bet she goes to sleep at night saying it’s all for the her beloved fucking Tsar.”

There was a time when Sokhov would have wanted to hit Beria for that, but the baiting had lost its power over the years, he just let it wash over him and off into the aether. “Damocles.”

Beria scoffed and downed his glass. “Mosley’s pet science project? What about that monumental fucking waste of resources interests you?”

“I remember you weren’t a fan.”

“It’s part of the reason we never signed up for that Internationalist bullshit. Reactionaries at the gates and they wanted to empty the coffers on a physics project that wasn’t going to return any viable products until the fifties, if ever? Madness.”


Sokhov picked the first file off the cart. It was one of the records from Beria’s initial debriefing, all those years ago. The topic on the front was clear as day. Damocles.

xcl8jK_jtU5_D87qyzKCZpISflYbsl83w-zATOuvjEPEwUvyQg5Ex9B1KNSeozuyYflWnCSnFa33tlcjyPezSYzqLdkybFPUTHRBFzQ7F0FTW4vq1ykzhohIWEW5LXrvI5E3b6sf=s0

“And yet you seem to have known an awful lot about it.”

Beria grinned, extending Sokhov a toast with a once-more refilled glass “I knew a lot about everything General, you should know that by now.”

“So”
Sokhov opened the folder “pretend for a moment that I work for a man who is mad, paranoid, or otherwise particularly concerned with the Americans continuing with this flight of fancy.”

Beria laughed, the bastard actually chuckled a bit. Sokov just smiled as he handed the folder over, giving Beria something with which to refresh his memory.

“How do I make sure this thing never goes anywhere?”

“This is your request? Sabotaging a science project?”

“You work with us on this for six weeks and deliver one more moment of theatre, then you’re as close to a free man as you can ever hope to be, Laverentiy Pavlovich. A senior officer of the Tsar’s army, God help us all.”


Beria. Just. Grinned.

“Done”

RhIiJ8X5w3aGkGh_GZmzdgPtuEzygbK7WgZWz0BL5w_vxtlUS7owgft2QPPVwj0m8Qx291Cesk-MHn8yBm6u-QTr9l96lniAE7SXDgImKgThBtc6xRgt9TnY45OtDY1modjnSOST=s0
 
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Vlad_Dracul1989

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Well, if two superpowers got nukes, there's really nothing someone can do with that now. Cold War then, until you got orbital weapons?

Transoceanic invasions of any kind can be awfully inconvenient even without da bombs...
 

TomorrowsHerald

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Getting the nukes is one thing, getting a delivery system is another. By the time the Americans are liable to develop them there probably won't be any viable bases to launch an attack from with strategic bombers so unless they also have an extensive rocketry program going on they are liable to lag behind.

No captured German scientists and refugees heading their way in this timeline after all, hell, if anything a lot of them are heading out.

Though I guess they could end up commanding much of the knowledge of committed Sydncalists, but that's quite the filter.
 

RustyHunter

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Beria makes his glorious return! I'll be curious to see what he knows about Damocles, but I still have a suspicion his fake execution will be much more real than he expects...
 

Aussie Perun

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I don't like jumping ahead too much but i am Just flagging now that I'll be recalling the Duma foreign committee in a few chapters from now to provide important input on the topic of war aims. (particularly in relation to America)

I imagine this will range from some on the fringe saying carry on until every red is dead and the eagle flies in chicago, rio and who knows where else to those at the other extreme.

I flag it so deputies can consider their positions before the relevant chapter where the characters discuss the positions advanced.
 
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TomorrowsHerald

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"The Imperial Democrats would kindly request from the government a debriefing by the relevant authorities as to the possibilities for the military application of force in the Americas (be it North or South) prior to committing to any position on this topic. Such a review would preferably contain an overview of the present distribution of red and allied forces in the proposed theatre of operations as well as the technical feasibility of protecting and successfully landing forces on the other side of the Atlantic (as well as a list of bases of operation for such an undertaking) We salute our gallant soldiers, sailors, and airmen as well as those of our allies in the ongoing liberation of the United Kingdom and pledge to do our utmost to make the transition between military and civilian work for returning demobilized forces as seamless as possible."
 

Aussie Perun

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Chapter 298: Old London Town



The venerable iron gates of the Buckingham Palace buckled as twenty five tons of Russian armour smashed through them at speed. Behind it came the Australasians, bayonets fixed and baying for blood.

The sparse fire from inside was panicked now, wild bursts that seldom found their targets as the shaking hands of vanguards and Republican Guard made their stand. There was no offer of surrender, and no call from it in turn.

Maybe if it’d been Russians the reds might have tried raising a white flag and taking their chances. Maybe if they’d been assigned a location that was a little less symbolic. Hell, even with their exile countrymen they might have asked for terms.

But it was the ANZACS, and the BBC had spent the last decade telling them there was nothing to expect from Antipodeans than butchery and brutality, so outnumbered and outgunned they made their doomed stand.

The Victorians went room by room, cold steel fixed. In its protective case they carried the Royal Banner. It followed the assault teams in, witnessing the blood shed in its name by the distant sons of the Empire.

When it was raised, it bore witness to a London being reborn.

It bore witness to the return.


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From "Neptune" by James Hetson

For its first week, the invasion seemed to be on a knife edge. Imperial casualties mounted more quickly than even the hardest days of Mercury, with the bloodletting in Cornwall and around the airborne drop sites shocking the British representatives at STAVKA who recorded some discomfort with the cool appraisal with which their Russian and Japanese compatriots appraised the losses.

But from initial balance, three factors came together to quickly and dramatically swing the situation into a rout.

The first were the Operations of Sir Lawrence and the Royalist fifth column who were instrumental in securing ports, airfields, and strategic positions in the opening hours and days of the campaign. They sowed confusion, and gave the Imperial forces an opening that they exploited ruthlessly much as red turncoats had done for the Commune against Germany during the 1939-40 conflict.

The second factor was the collapse of the Republican counter-offensives and the successful relief of the Imperial airborne units by IV Guards Tank division. This threw the Republican forces grievously off balance and all but guaranteed that the airborne units dominance of the Midlands would be maintained.

The third, which converted what would have been a losing situation into an utter rout, was the flight of Oswald Mosley to Central America, taking with him the best remaining units of the Republican Navy. While ostensibly seeking support from the Americans, the IBC was quick to broadcast news of the flight and the immediate fragmentation of the Maximist leadership denied the Republicans something absolutely vital in the face of a strong enemy force.

United leadership.

The Maximist leadership fractured violently into a few key groups almost immediately.

Risdon, with the BBC and much of the internal security apparatus moved to declare himself acting Chairman and began issuing Chairman’s decrees aimed at rationalising the defence of the realm and stemming the tide. While the legality of the move is questionable, it does seem as if his opening acts were aimed at making genuine efforts to resolve some of the key factors hampering the Republican forces, including fragmentation between Party, Regular, Popular, Local, and Ministerial units.


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His ascent was vehemently opposed by a troika made up of the Finance Ministry, Foreign Ministry (which also controlled foreign facing intelligence services that had increasingly, unofficially, been turned to facing internal factional opponents) and the London based Party Discipline Committee which quickly moved to remove Risdon from his post.

That announcement could not be promulgated without control of the BBC however, and Risdon’s internal security units dug in to see off those who he was rapidly purporting to declare insurgents in league with the royalists. In the confusion, regular army units were forced to declare allegiances, and take actions, based on thoroughly incomplete information.

Even worse for the Republicans, with communications between North and South all but cut and news of Mosley’s flight being carried by both IBC and BBC, the Scottish wing of the party began issuing decrees independently of London. Most significant of these, was a decision to avoid launching further counter-attacks to the South and instead digging in “until the situation could be properly ascertained.” There was a fear at every level that too much initiative might result in execution when, if, Mosley regained regular communications with the Island.

So the Scottish forces held, and the Imperial forces raced after their shattered attackers towards the centre of all Maximist power.

London.

The skies over the city belonged to the Imperial air forces, with the advancing troops enjoying rolling air-support on a scale never before conceived. From within the pocket of South-East England that remained in red hands, a few American units did fly sorties into the mass of Russo-Roman and Austro-Hungarian aircraft. But at this stage of the battle, the residents of London could only watch as their ostensible defenders were swatted aside.



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Republican forces in the South would be hounded all the way back to London, where disputes of authority and command accelerated rapidly. With Mosley’s flight, the Maximists found themselves in the midst of an undeclared power struggle, and with war powers on the table, all feared that failure would mean death at the hands of factional rivals, even as the Reactionaries were banging down the door.

Fragmentation and infighting were terminal to any effort to mount a cohesive or sustained defence of the capital. Most of the Popular Reservist forces chose to surrender during the pursuit, their commanders more concerned with preserving the lives of their men then entering the maelstrom of conflict in London.

The Regular army first split between Risdon and the Troika controlling the party discipline committee, then started to notice a rapid increase in defections as Royalist propaganda started to bite. As the Imperial forces advanced on London, they were met with surrendering units and offers to declare London an open city, only for other units, aligned with the Troika, to mount bloody and staunch resistance in places that had ostensibly already been surrendered.

After a day of confused negotiations in which it was increasingly unclear who the Imperial forces could even engage with with any authority, the decision was made to shock the defenders into acknowledging the situation.

A mass attack went in, headed by the Australasians and the Royal Marines, backed by Russo-Roman tank and artillery units. The defences just outside the city were shattered, and the tanks rolled in to the city proper.

It was clear at this point that the defenders were a disorganized mess.


SQPnIQXZOGQuQFQyLrWV-TI5-gaInVPXE2lGI2KnrWh50LgDy8tufd4fzeazabNGPBK3dTX3VoM7EX_-DwTMeqD3-4S9zzdW2TiSjFpf6O3f8JYPo2FVj0dmcgMzuEpFGk1KNcif=s0

Risdon’s BBC would announce the status of London as an open city on the 11th, an attempt by the self-declared acting Chairman to spare the city and jump-start negotiations with the invaders. And while that surrender would immediately be disavowed by the Troika who would break out towards Dover to continue the struggle from the fortifications there, the defenders in London, many of them reservists or stalwart units only just called up, heeded the call to lay down their arms. A few die-hards would resist at symbolic points, but the Royal Banner would be raised over Buckingham Palace while the Russo Roman tankers hung their flag from Nelson’s column.

The Western edge of the city was pulverised, and fear of snipers and grenade attacks meant there was no time for any grand displays or parades in the city itself. But the halls of Parliament were cleared, room by room, by Royal Marines while Russo-Roman armour parked in Trafalgar square and the ANZACs purged the Palace

As London was falling, great Republican forces now found themselves wedged in pockets of their own, either in the fortifications of Dover, or between the Japanese landing and the Imperial holdings in England. Morale and supplies raced towards rock bottom, and, at the pleading of the IBC, surrenders and desertions mounted.

Only in Scotland were there significant concentrations of undefeated or encircled Republican troops. Twenty five divisions, concentrated around Glasgow and Edinburgh where they had been intended to serve as a barrier to invasion and as a strategic reserve.

But as dug in as they might be, and as disorganised the Russo-Romans were fresh off the transports, this was still a conflict between untested Republican reservists and all the armour and armoured cavalry STAVKA could throw together.



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Without an answer to Russo-Roman armour, self-propelled artillery, air support, and aggression, the Republicans faltered. The Imperial armour was disorganised, and only supplied by the efforts of thousands of transport sorties daily. But it was still the Imperial Armour and its supporting armoured cavalry.

The butcher’s bill suddenly seemed much more reminiscent of Mercury come again.

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Aussie Perun

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Snapshot: On the Road to Edinburgh

The atmosphere in the living room of the grand home was stale and tense. A half dozen Russians watching as the Royal Marine Major stood expectantly before the table.

“I do know many things have changed here since 1925, but I was of the understanding that it was customary to salute and introduce oneself to a fellow officer.”


The Scottish Republican General gazed up from his seated position at Major Jones. “Oh aye, of course” and he tapped his hand half heartedly against his forehead. “There ya go Major.”

Jones sighed and took a seat across the table. “Surely General, you understand that your position is untenable. We have air-dominance, you have no hope of reinforcement, and once the Russians bring up their assault guns, you really have no hope of holding your positions.”

1630161406695.png

“Ya got a point in there?”


Jones collected himself. He could feel the Russians watching so he kept a straight back and clear voice. “It’s time to lay down your arms. Why sacrifice your men in the name of a man who has already abandoned you to your fate?”

The Scottsman held up a hand and shifted in his chair. “Now I think there may be some confusion here, Major. See last I checked we’d been holding our positions just fine. But that isn’t even the point now is it? Because I never said I wouldn’t surrender.”

Jones nodded “Well then I’m glad you’ve seen reason..”

“I only said I wouldnae surrender to you.”


The Russians were murmuring. Jones tapped his hands on the table “You might have to explain what you mean, General Macdonald.”

Macdonald raised a hand and gestured round the room. “Well my lads haven’t fought you now have they? They’ve fought them, the Russians. Only English I’ve seen since the start of this are ones like you, following them around taking credit for their blood like it’s your own. When you say you've got air-dominance, it isn't you doing the bombing is it? And when the big guns roll up, I dinnae think the crews will be speaking English now will they?”

1630161547133.jpeg

The Russians were murmuring again. Jones knew for sure the Lieutenant with the commendation dagger could speak English. His pulse quickened.

“The disposition of our various allied forces is of no concern to you General. If not me, to whom are you willing to surrender?”

Macdonald set his hands back down, and spoke to the room Generally. “I’ll negotiate surrender with a Russian officer of significant rank.”

The Russian Lieutenant spoke up, in English as expected “Guards-Colonel Garin is available if required Major.”

Jones could hear his heartbeat in his head. “Very well Lieutenant. Assuming that’s acceptable to General Macdonald”

“Oh aye, perfectly.”


As the Russians tried to get a connection on the phone, Macdonald leaned in.

“So, while we wait for this Colonel of theirs, do you want me to tell ye how this is gonna end?”


Jones leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“When he gets here, I’ll tell him that my Corps is willing to lay down arms, give him and his tanks a straight shot to Edinburgh. We’ll go into a camp as prisoners of war until the fighting up here is done. But that’s it. No charging people for treason, no ‘desyndicalisation’, no firing squads at dawn and no stripping people of their rights. When the fighting is done, we go home, and get on with our lives.”


Jones shook his head “the Colonel can’t grant you that, only I can, political control…”

“Oh aye, you’ll tell him he cannae do that. Maybe you’ll feed him some shite about how this is King Edward’s land and the Russian army has no right to grant protection from the King’s law.”
Macdonald smiled “but then ye ken what’s going to happen?”

He didn’t wait for a response from the English Major.

“He’s going to pull out his map, and acknowledge what a right pain we are holding here. He’ll look at the road into town and see two dozen tanks burning, and take my assurances my lads will take ten times that number down if he decided to press the issue. They’re highlanders, not some overweight blackshirts from London. Then he’s gonnae ask himself, does he really want to spend three days and get his men killed just so the King can get his rocks off hanging lads for trying to defend their home from an invading army?”


1630161709880.png

“I will say again, political control rests..”

“And then he’s gonnae tell you, real politely. That he is of the view that the deal should be accepted. And you’ll suddenly realise that ye don’t have half the power you think you do. You’ll realise that there’s twenty of them for every one of you. You’ll realise that, even with things like they are, if they buggered off, we’d have you in the channel by Sunday. You'll realise it aint you, and it aint the King that gets to decide what happens here. And that’ll be that.”


Jones was lost for words at the cheek of the bastard, but he had to admit, the words bit deeper than he liked. “I doubt this will end quite as cleanly as you would like, General.”

Macdonald shrugged. “Oh aye, maybe you cannae let it go. Maybe you do me in when it’s all done. An 'accident' of some kind, something that won’t make it look like you went back on your word. But tens of thousands of my lads are gonnae get to go home, without living the rest of their days in fear of what vengeance you "God Save the King" types might dream up for 'em.”

The Scottsman leaned back in the chair as the door to the hut opened. The Russians came to attention as the officer came in, a stern faced Guards-Colonel. Macdonald got up from his chair and saluted with parade precision. “Brigadier General Thomas Macdonald, commanding 14th (Scottish) Infantry Corps.”

The Russian looked tired, and smelled of diesel, his uniform showing the signs of hard wear without a break for stitching or the kind of cleaning you'd need to get tank grease out. The English was broken, but the Russian managed a basic “Guards-Colonel Garin, Fourth Guards Tank Division.”

“Your men have fought well, Guards-Colonel”


Macdonald’s words were quickly translated, and Garin nodded slightly. “And yours. State your terms”

Macdonald glanced at Major Jones, smiled, and stated his claims.

None of his lads would pay for Mosley’s mistakes.


1630161339665.png
 
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HIMDogson

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I'm surprised that those terms wouldn't be acceptable to the Royalists. If they were actually planning to put every individual soldier through desyndicalization trials it's no wonder they needed the Russians to reclaim their homeland. It's lucky for British royalism that the Russians are there to force Edward to be Louis XVIII, not Charles X.
 

TomorrowsHerald

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Snapshot: On the Road to Edinburgh

The atmosphere in the living room of the grand home was stale and tense. A half dozen Russians watching as the Royal Marine Major stood expectantly before the table.

“I do know many things have changed here since 1925, but I was of the understanding that it was customary to salute and introduce oneself to a fellow officer.”

The Scottish Republican General gazed up from his seated position at Major Jones. “Oh aye, of course” and he tapped his hand half heartedly against his forehead. “There ya go Major.”

Jones sighed and took a seat across the table. “Surely General, you understand that your position is untenable. We have air-dominance, you have no hope of reinforcement, and once the Russians bring up their assault guns, you really have no hope of holding your positions.”

“Ya got a point in there?”

Jones collected himself. He could feel the Russians watching so he kept a straight back and clear voice. “It’s time to lay down your arms. Why sacrifice your men in the name of a man who has already abandoned you to your fate?”

The Scottsman held up a hand and shifted in his chair. “Now I think there may be some confusion here, Major. See last I checked we’d been holding our positions just fine. But that isn’t even the point now is it? Because I never said I wouldn’t surrender.”

Jones nodded “Well then I’m glad you’ve seen reason..”

“I only said I wouldnae surrender to you.”


The Russians were murmuring. Jones tapped his hands on the table “You might have to explain what you mean, General Macdonald.”

Macdonald raised a hand and gestured round the room. “Well my lads haven’t fought you now have they? They’ve fought them, the Russians. Only English I’ve seen since the start of this are ones like you, following them around taking credit for their blood like it’s your own. When you say you've got air-dominance, it isn't you doing the bombing is it? And when the big guns roll up, I dinnae think the crews will be speaking English now will they?”

The Russians were murmuring again. Jones knew for sure the Lieutenant with the commendation dagger could speak English. His pulse quickened.

“The disposition of our various allied forces is of no concern to you General. If not me, to whom are you willing to surrender?”

Macdonald set his hands back down, and spoke to the room Generally. “I’ll negotiate surrender with a Russian officer of significant rank.”

The Russian Lieutenant spoke up, in English as expected “Guards-Colonel Garin is available if required Major.”

Jones could hear his heartbeat in his head. “Very well Lieutenant. Assuming that’s acceptable to General Macdonald”

“Oh aye, perfectly.”


As the Russians tried to get a connection on the phone, Macdonald leaned in.

“So, while we wait for this Colonel of theirs, do you want me to tell ye how this is gonna end?”

Jones leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“When he gets here, I’ll tell him that my Corps is willing to lay down arms, give him and his tanks a straight shot to Edinburgh. We’ll go into a camp as prisoners of war until the fighting up here is done. But that’s it. No charging people for treason, no ‘desyndicalisation’, no firing squads at dawn and no stripping people of their rights. When the fighting is done, we go home, and get on with our lives.”


Jones shook his head “the Colonel can’t grant you that, only I can, political control…”

“Oh aye, you’ll tell him he cannae do that. Maybe you’ll feed him some shite about how this is King Edward’s land and the Russian army has no right to grant protection from the King’s law.”
Macdonald smiled “but then ye ken what’s going to happen?”

He didn’t wait for a response from the English Major.

“He’s going to pull out his map, and acknowledge what a right pain we are holding here. He’ll look at the road into town and see two dozen tanks burning, and take my assurances my lads will take ten times that number down if he decided to press the issue. They’re highlanders, not some overweight blackshirts from London. Then he’s gonnae ask himself, does he really want to spend three days and get his men killed just so the King can get his rocks off hanging lads for trying to defend their home from an invading army?”

“I will say again, political control rests..”

“And then he’s gonnae tell you, real politely. That he is of the view that the deal should be accepted. And you’ll suddenly realise that ye don’t have half the power you think you do. You’ll realise that there’s twenty of them for every one of you. You’ll realise that, even with things like they are, if they buggered off, we’d have you in the channel by Sunday. You'll realise it aint you, and it aint the King that gets to decide what happens here. And that’ll be that.”


Jones was lost for words at the cheek of the bastard, but he had to admit, the words bit deeper than he liked. “I doubt this will end quite as cleanly as you would like, General.”

Macdonald shrugged. “Oh aye, maybe you cannae let it go. Maybe you do me in when it’s all done. An 'accident' of some kind, something that won’t make it look like you went back on your word. But tens of thousands of my lads are gonnae get to go home, without living the rest of their days in fear of what vengeance you "God Save the King" types might dream up for 'em.”

The Scottsman leaned back in the chair as the door to the hut opened. The Russians came to attention as the officer came in, a stern faced Guards-Colonel. Macdonald got up from his chair and saluted with parade precision. “Brigadier General Thomas Macdonald, commanding 14th (Scottish) Infantry Corps.”

The Russian looked tired, and smelled of diesel, his uniform showing the signs of hard wear without a break for stitching or the kind of cleaning you'd need to get tank grease out. The English was broken, but the Russian managed a basic “Guards-Colonel Garin, Fourth Guards Tank Division.”

“Your men have fought well, Guards-Colonel”


Macdonald’s words were quickly translated, and Garin nodded slightly. “And yours. State your terms”

Macdonald glanced at Major Jones, smiled, and stated his claims.

None of his lads would pay for Mosley’s mistakes.


View attachment 751437
Exiles: "Whoopie! We are back in blighty! Now let the restoration of the United Kingdom commence!"

Scottland: "Indie Ref 1944!!!"

Exiles: "You've got to be kidding..."

Meanwhile in Central America...

"I knew keeping all the autonomists alive in cold storage would come in handy one day..."
 
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HIMDogson

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Exiles: "Whoopie! We are back in blighty! Now let the restoration of the United Kingdom commence!"

Scottland: "Indie Ref 1944!!!"

Exiles: "You've got to be kidding..."

Meanwhile in Central America...

"I knew keeping all the autonomists alive in cold storage would come in handy one day..."
tbf given Mosley's policy of direct rule, I can't imagine the Scots are all that happy with London. Significant concessions might have to be made to placate the Scots and ensure them that the restored monarchy won't just continue Mosley's centralism with a royalist coat of paint.
 
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TomorrowsHerald

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tbf given Mosley's policy of direct rule, I can't imagine the Scots are all that happy with London. Significant concessions might have to be made to placate the Scots and ensure them that the restored monarchy won't just continue Mosley's centralism with a royalist coat of paint.
Yea, that's why oftentimes I tend to partition the island when playing other powers in KR that are not Canada. Practically speaking I'd expect nationalism in the home regions to be if not higher, then at least more prone to taking care of local problems while whatever protecting power handles foreign policy. Practically speaking, the UOB either goes the home rule route by itself (Autonomist) gives the home regions quite a bit of local power along with regional councils in England, or snatches it away under the totalists. Even if the Republican project fails, I'd expect Scottish, English, even Welsh separatism to be much stronger than OTL. The royalists will have a headache at least in Scotland, and as that general said; if the Russians are going to be the ones providing the security, what do they need London for?
 

Aussie Perun

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Chapter 299: Steel of The White Sun
1630331662410.png


From "War, Tyranny, and Liberation"

While the eyes of the world were turned to a war deciding the fate of forty million people in Britain, half a world away, the armies of China clashed viciously to decide the fate of hundreds of millions.

The Southern Coalition had not sought war. They had been caught off guard by the Qing attack on Yunan which had forced the Republicans to act, or risk being surrounded and outnumbered by a further enlarged Qing state. International observers had gauged the conflict as relatively even, the South enjoying a paper advantage in industry and equipment, the North having a larger available force, engorged as it was by its mixture of Imperial militias and paramilitaries aligned with the Yiguandao who had thrown their lot in with the Emperor out of fear of the Japanese, Russians, and Republicans alike.

The war that followed shocked those international observers as the Qing fell on the theoretically better trained and equipped South like a vengeful dragon.

The Long Yun Government in Yunan had always been the weaker of the two Southern co-belligerents, and it had been the target of the Qing offensive that began the war, leaving it in a dire military situation from the moment conflict began. It’s army had been well regarded in the thirties, but its lack of industry and wealth had left it behind compared to the Qing and Republicans. It didn’t help matters that the Yunan military appeared to have been prepared for fighting more akin to previous warlord conflicts, affairs where attacks were not carried through with complete zeal as leaders focused on preserving equipment and resources.

It became clear quickly that this was not to be that sort of war.

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Battle casualties leading up to March 1943 totalled approximately half a million in Long Yun’s army. More had been lost to desertion. It was too much for the provincial forces, and collapse became so obvious that much of the Yunan Government fled into KMT territory while in the South, Thai and Japanese forces crossed some kilometres into Yunan’s territory at the request of local authorities to establish a temporary safe zone and ward off the feared Qing irregulars.


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Even as Yunan collapsed and the Qing regulars and paramilitaries pushed South, the Republic’s army made grand plans to reverse the tide.

Through desperate economic measures that drained everything from the banking system to the pots and pans in citizens homes, the KMT had put together the funds to bring in foreign equipment on a lavish scale while keeping their domestic industry producing. Foreign governments, perhaps convinced that prolonging the war was in their best interests, seemed willing to allow large scale armament transfers despite the active hostilities. The Qing might align more closely with the Imperial powers in terms of the structure of their government, but the influence of anti-foreigner elements and potential revisionist ambitions of the Qing government seems to have been enough to convince those powers to at least seek to balance the conflict.

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Memories of the Boxer rebellions were still live in Western and Japanese thinking, leading to a fear of anti-western paramilitary influences in the Qing realm

The Republic viewed its army as an elite force, struggling against the human mass of Qing aligned paramilitaries and militias. At the same time, it looked overseas to the great victories won by the Russo-Roman army, and decided that emulation of the winning formula would be the best path to victory.

In 1939 there had been perhaps eighty tanks in China.

By the time of the KMT’s grand counter-offensive, there were more than two thousand, many fresh from frontline Imperial service where they were being replaced with more recent models. With the basic assistance from foreign advisors, the KMT had constituted ten tank divisions, organised along Russo-Roman lines. By March 1943, the Republicans were prepared to unleash this new force against the Qing.

The intention was to launch a pincering counter-offensive which would envelop Qing armies and destroy them, following the template established by the Mercury and Venus offensives. The new tank units were husbanded in strategic reserve until the time was right, and then placed on a path directly into the oncoming Qing offensive.

Come mid-April, the word was given, and the tanks ploughed into the advancing Qing forces in a display of mass, concentrated mechanised warfare that would not have been out of place in the opening hours of Mercury.

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Deficient in anti-tank guns and with many of the irregulars never having ever seen a tank, let along massed formations of them rolling over hills, firing as they went, many Qing units fell back in disarray or simply shattered.

There were points of resistance, leading to a number of the Clique’s best infantry divisions being savaged in hard fighting against Republican armour while their supporting militia routed, but for the most part, the tanks sliced forwards, sometimes two dozen kilometres a day, scattering all in their path.

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The problems began to show in the second week of the offensive. As tank terror began to abate and the armour raced forward, logistical failings began to rear their ugly heads. With supply lines stretched, interdiction or simply organisational failings meant the supply of fuel to the spearheads began to dry up. Tanks had been bought in quantity, but spare parts and fuel were lacking, and the comparatively inexperienced crews struggled to maintain their vehicles under combat conditions. Without sufficient trucks, fuel had to be moved to the front using pack animals, and these were slow and singularly vulnerable to harassment by Qing forces.

The speed of the armoured pincers slackened and then, having regained some sense of the situation, the Qing forces poured into the gaps between the tanks and the trailing Republican infantry.

The tanks, and the offensive, were now cut off, desperate for rescue.

Rescue would be attempted on a lavish scale, three entire KMT armies launching themselves to try and relieve the forward columns that now found themselves fighting a 24/7 battle against their surrounding enemy.

It was a fight that they could only win for so long. While many in the North focused on a few heroic stories of Millenarian zealots or Imperial bannermen destroying tanks with grenades or suicide attacks, the fact was that most Republican tanks were abandoned by their crews when their surrounded, out of supply units could no longer feed the metal beasts fuel, ammunition, or spare parts.

It had taken months of effort and the accumulated wealth of decades to infuse the Republic with one of the largest armoured forces in the world, purchased almost directly from the greatest practitioner or armoured warfare of the time.

It took less than a month for the Qing armies, many armed with traditional weapons or 19th century firearms cast off by colonial powers, to destroy this force in its entirety. Qing forces had lost almost as many men as their enemy, but much less equipment, and they had much more blood to spare.


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Losses in materiel were catastrophic for the Republic, even if manpower could be made up given time

For foreign observers, the sudden defeat was met with shock and initial disbelief. Losses were dismissed as propaganda from beijing. How could an alliance of zealots, radicals, warlordists, and Imperial bannermen, armed with obsolete weapons and lead by a government in such tension with itself, lay low a substantial concentration of Russian made armour?

As the truth of the matter did become known, there was some trepidation, especially in Tokyo. The victory over the Republican fleet had filled Japan with confidence, and plans were underway to expand operations against the Americans or build up on the Indian border.

That was no longer possible. If Qing victory might be forthcoming, that would place an enlarged Chinese State in a direct border with Japanese aligned Thailand, the Japanese colonial holdings in China, and all of the Legation cities. That state would also no longer be balanced by internal opponents in Yunan and the Republic. For all their believed qualitative deficiency, the Qing army was, at minimum, the third largest in the world, and with Republican units disintegrating there was another great fear.

The many thousands of vehicles, hundreds of thousands of guns, and tonnes of ammunition and supplies sold to the Republicans now seemed as if they might soon fall into Qing hands. If that was the case, Tokyo feared there might be a risk of qualitative uplift in the Qing forces, perhaps stoking the already sometimes radical anti-foreign ambitions of some of the factions at play.

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Experience had shown that Chinese units could perform well when trained and equipped to foreign standards. Many now feared the Qing would have free access to KMT materiel.

The Japanese Government was determined not to risk another Fengtien incident, where outnumbered Japanese troops had been overrun by surprise. The Japanese holdings, and their Thai ally, would need to be extensively reinforced, and a watchful eye kept on China.

Few now had any faith in the ability of the soldiers of the Republic to stem the Qing tide.

In Beijing, spokesmen for the Imperial faction grew increasingly active in engaging with foreign media, sidelining representatives of the clique who remained averse to such interactions.

The message they gave often included a refrain which had become something of a motto in certain circles.

The Empire, long divided, must unite.

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The collapsing Republican perimeter as the Japanese and Thai reinforcements arrive to garrison the new border.
 
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