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Yeah, some time before they can be around.
The call for more romance (later) and Gandhi (now) has been heard, so we're going back to india as promised next update for Gandhi's unique plan for getting Britain out of India and uniting the subcontinent.... and we will see what America and Mosley are up to over there as well
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No one does subterfuge like the British!
God bless the Eternal Anglo (Celt/Scandi).
God bless the Eternal Anglo (Celt/Scandi).
Writer's note - I found the old old old computer that the save file for this had originally been on, and apparently it had saved login details for this account- so if you ever doubted I'm the same person as the original author, here's the proof. At least now, I think this means I can edit old post and clean things up if I ever get the time. Anyway, today's update!
348: The Long Road to Lucknow
From “The Road to Lucknow - 1943-1950”
348: The Long Road to Lucknow
From “The Road to Lucknow - 1943-1950”
For all the ideological discord that separated Rio from Chicago, or Chicago from Mexico City, all competing branches of Revolutionary thought in America agreed on one thing, namely that the revolutionary struggle was not possible without some recourse to force of arms. Guerilla war had won the Mexican revolution, Rio and Chicago had won their existence through grinding conventional war, and none, even the relatively moderate Zapatistas, could conceive of a world in with the old Capitalist or Aristocratic order would ever yield to the demands of the people without the application of, or threatened use of, armed force.
All, that is, except for the Bharatiya Commune under Gandhi. To the Agrarians in India, non-violence was not just a spiritual and religious imperative, it was a chosen and revered strategy.
In a way which often strayed from internationalism into fervent nationalism, the Totalists and Marxists of India had demanded for years that the Government either reunite the country, or resign. The victory over the Princely Federation had been as spectacular as it was sudden, but the Delhi Government, the Dominion of India, remained, alongside a few tiny pockets of foreign rule, as stark reminders of the foreign presence and influence that still reigned in India.
The Agrarians, unable to resist, had caved and made the ‘total decolonisation’ of India a plank of their party platform.
When it was first announced in 1944, this statement had put a pause on the growing rift between the remnants of the British Empire and an increasingly independently minded coalition of Indigenous rulers in the Dominion. There had been agreements to bring additional Australasian and even some British troops back into the Dominion to augment the indigenous army, and the Dominion had re-joined the joint Imperial Command structure in anticipation of a massed armed assault by the South. Delhi had left the joint structure in protest during the early 1940s, when the Imperial staff fixated on French North Africa and reclaiming the home isles at the expense of Indian security and interests.
But it was not to be.
In their place, Gandhi launched the ‘Quit India’ movement which pushed its influence deep into the Dominion. Common Indians protested by the hundreds of thousands. They formed human cordons around symbols of British power, began public hunger strikes in front of the Imperial Military Headquarters in Delhi, boycotted British or Australasian imports and refused to patronise businesses that openly dealt with the British ‘occupiers.’
The first response was arrests. Tens of thousands, and then more than a hundred thousand arrests involved in these public acts of protest in the first year of concerted unrest. But the arrests did little to dampen public enthusiasm and support from across the border. Instead they grew, while exhortations by Gandhi were relayed into the country by radio, or by messengers who would travel into the countryside and recount the teachings of the Mahatma to an overwhelmingly illiterate rural population.
In response to the hardening of opinion among Delhi’s rulers and signs that the Dominion’s Muslim and Sikh populations might be growing suspicious of a potential ‘Hindu led’ takeover, Gandhi’s Agrarians surprised all again by focusing and softening their rhetoric.
Self-rule, Swaraj, was the goal, Calcutta insisted. Self-rule for all of India, by Indians.
The degree to which this represented a tremendous departure from mainstream revolutionary thought is hard to describe. In choosing to focus Quit India on removing foreign interference, Gandhi was implicitly de-emphasising class struggle and embracing one of nationalism and self-determination. For movements that viewed the primary locus of struggle as being an international battle between classes, the shift towards a national battle against Colonialism smacked of revisionism of the highest order.
And Quit India would not take long to vindicate the worst fears of the far left. Protesters began to carry banners exhorting their princes and leaders to throw off the chains of British leadership. They refused to pay taxes to those who welcomed British troops in their lands or who accepted British honours, but took to praising those who were seen as more ‘independent’ from the dictates of the King Emperor and his disintegrating Empire.
Quit India was likely never a majority movement. A majority of Indians in the Dominion remained thoroughly politically disengaged, and a small but determined minority had nailed their colours to the mast of British influenced rule, but in a nation as populous as the Dominion, Quit India had the manpower needed to cause significant disruption and endure any practical crackdown. The prisons of the Dominion could not readily accommodate prisoners by the hundreds of thousands, nor could the Maharajas maintain their armies of lifestyles if taxes were withheld or businesses disrupted.
Gandhi insisted, both in public, and in his private letters to many of the Dominions Princes and rulers, that there was path to peace in India, and intimated that he could be willing to accept a continuation of Princely rule, so long as it were married with the freedom of India from foerign interference and better conditions for the common man.
Most would dismiss the calls out of hand at first, but the pressure by the throng of unarmed men, women, and children was relentless, and the economic costs growing. Britain, in turn, was in no position to provide any compensation to Delhi for its ostensible loyalty. The traditional ‘bargain’ had been that Britain would guarantee the security of Delhi, in exchange for nominal loyalty by the Dominion.
But the Britain of 1946 was financially wrecked, wracking up reconstruction debts to the Russo-Roman Empire and totally unready to support a major military and policing operation on the Indian subcontinent. The British Empire was no longer a lucrative market for Delhi’s exports, that role had been taken over by other European powers, and having survived this long, confidence amongst the Princes grew and grew.
By late 1946, there were signs that Gandhi’s strategy might be yielding some small, slow gains. More Indian businesses were swearing off British investment, and many Princes, keen for peace on their estates, were eschewing public support for the British, or even calling for radical news steps towards ‘true’ Swaraj.
For many in the Commune though, Quit India seemed a surrender crossed with a failure.
Gandhi’s open treating with the Indegenous elite seemed to be opening the door to ongoing class exploitation, while the agonisingly slow pace of change was contrasted with the great and continuous stream of news of police brutality and repression keeping the population down.
Unable to crack the Agrarian stranglehold at the Central Government level, several local administrations opened negotiations with the Americans via British Republican intermediaries. There, they struck a series of deals.
American Generals in Africa had long complained that they were poorly equipped for the task of pacifying the country after their victory. Disease was rampant, vast swathes of territory depopulated, and animal herds had been systematically destroyed by deliberate wartime actions. In that environment, American Generals complained that they lacked the kind of goods needed to garner influence and loyalty among the population, namely food, and other basic essentials.
Capturing the nature of American difficulties in Africa, one American General at the time would note:
“When the only thing I’ve got are rifles I have three choices when it comes to getting the Africans on board. I can shoot them, threaten to shoot them, or give them the rifles in exchange. Option one aint exactly a good way to go about building a nation, option two won’t work with a people so injured to war that threats don’t mean anything to them any more, and you’ll forgive me for saying option three makes me damn nervous.”
Moslyite Centroamerica found itself in a similar position. The Republican forces in exile needed new uniforms and textiles, they needed food and other imports to augment what their host nation could provide.
What both the Americans and Republican British had to trade were weapons. The British exiles had enough weapons to arm every Briton exile twice over (albeit not particularly well) while the American war industry now carried on producing well beyond the abilities of the USSA workforce to furnish the manpower to crew and employ it.
The American offer was thus relatively simple. Indian food for American weapons and Mosleyite trainers and advisors.
By December 1946, nearly a million self loading rifles, six hundred tanks, and one thousand soft-skinned vehicles had been delivered to various local Governments in India, and the ‘arsenal of the revolution’ was only getting started.
Peaceful unification might be national policy in India, but the Totalists intended to be sure that, when the ‘real’ revolution inevitably began, they would not be caught unprepared.
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I think Comrade Appleby of Centroamerica would have something to say about India's security model...
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Given the title of "The Road to Lucknow" somehow I don't think the Raj is long for the world.
Gandhi: defeats the imperialists dressed in rags while preaching about pacifism.
Valois: wins Europe only to lose it all after dedicating all of France towards warfare.
Edward: Reclaims Britain with the Empire at the cost of losing what's left of it.
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Edward: chills in Australia while the Russians win back his throne for him
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600 tanks is a good start but let's keep in mind the Chinese Republicans had thrice that number when they went head to head with the Qing, and got gobsmacked with nothing to show for their effort except but torture, mass executions, and squalid exile for those who managed to get out on time.
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Well, Canada was kind of sacrificed for all this fighting the reds stuff so I wouldn't say they have been chilling out all the time.
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349: Libertad y Orden
Chicago
Chicago
Colonel Flora Hill had celebrated hard when she got the job as Earl Browder’s gatekeeper. She’d gotten her hands on a fine pre-war Kentucky Bourbon and annihilated the thing in good company and record time. Her mind had been filled with fantasies of hurling the door closed in the navies face or those creepy eggheads out of Fort Detrick or atom smashers out at North-Star.
But right now, she was facing the worst fucking part of the job, and the pain behind her eyes was worse than that time a Tuplev’s bomb load had cooked off in spitting distance of her cockpit.
“So let’s be very, very clear on what we’re saying here Jack. Because in about fifteen minutes I’m going to need to explain to the boss why the Russkies are threatening to call off the peace treaty, and why he’s had to issue a goddamn air-defence alert for half the East Coast in case they or the other Euros try and press the point.”
General Jack Casey had come with the bad news hoping to stoke a brawl with the Whites, she could see it, but his words left no doubt “I think we need to remind the Chairman that the Russians have already guaranteed that they won’t intervene in any further South American States while we’re in negotiations, this is an obvious and deliberate provocation on their part and we should respon…”
“Jack they said that before we started declaring regime change in Bogata and engaging in whatever it is this is. You know, the exact thing we said we wouldn’t do while negotiations were ongoing.”
“Now come on Flora, we haven’t done a thing. It’s the Centroamer…”
Flora ran her hands through her military cut hair in frustration. “You’re right, I guess we just ask the Russians to differentiate between one English speaking revolutionary army of the Americas carrying American weapons, and the other English speaking revolutionary army of the Americas carrying slightly newer American weapons. They really, really don’t seem to give a shit Jack. And I wouldn’t either in their shoes.”
Jack leaned in on the coffee table. “Now Comrade, I’m not sure if you can get me in to see him, but you know what we have to say. This is our red-line, right here, it has to be. If the proletariat of a nation can rise up, seize power, and then not be allowed to ask for help, how can we call ourselves leaders of the revolution at that point? We have to stand firm on this, back the Brits up.”
“Jack” Flora had him in a death stare now, the kind she normally saved for when she was looking through a gunsight “there was no damn revolution. Like three dozen guys, who were probably RAID or some garbage like that, stormed a radio station and broadcast a call for intervention for about an hour and a half until the police stormed the place and shot them. It’s not a revolution, it’s the flimsiest fucking pretext imaginable.”
“We weren’t much more when we started in Chicago.”
His delivery wasn’t smarmy or sarcastic. It was a moment of real belief that brought her back to a moment of cold calm.
“They’re going to make us pay for this at the peace table Jack. And what about Rio? Or Calcutta? We’re making progress there.”
“You don’t want to hear my opinion on that.”
“No, Jack, I’m briefing the Boss in ten so I actually do what to know since you’re the first one the Brits told about this whole fucking expedition.”
“I think that if that Pajama wearing asshole in Calcutta met a King he’d offer to clean his shoes sooner that shoot him, and as for the Russkies, I think we tell them that if they have a problem with it they’re welcome to swim here and take it up with us face to face, we can’t negotiate when it comes to our damn backyard.”
“Actually no, Jack, you’re right, I take it back, I don’t want to hear what you think because if I tell the boss that he’ll have you assigned to an Alaskan weather station.”
“Flora, Comrade, I…”
“Just tell me what else Mosley has planned, Jack. What did they tell you. I need to know everything and I need to know it now, if we’re going to mitigate this diplomatic furball.”
The General paused for a moment the, like a man carrying his own write of execution, brought out the copies of the military-military communiqué that had come in from the good Chairman Mosley.
Skies over Colombia
A harsh tug resonated through the cabin and then there was silence. The droning noise died away and the two dozen men inside were suddenly left with the quiet of their thoughts.
“RIGHT, LISTEN HERE.” The Captain’s voice brought them back from the moment of dangerous introspection. He knew, as they all did, that that was when fear began to form, where too much brain power in search of a focus was far too dangerous a thing.
“I KNOW NONE OF YOU WANTED TO BE HERE.” he bellowed through the cabin. “WE FOUGHT FOR HOME, FOR OUR PEOPLE, NONE OF US WANT ANYTHING MORE THAN TO BE THERE, BACK ON HOME SOIL, FIGHTING FOR IT.”
There was a ripple in the cabin as the turbulence as the pilot battled heavy winds on the way in.
“BUT JUST BECAUSE WE CAN’T FREE OUR HOME, DOESN’T MEAN WE HAVE LICENSE TO SIT ON OUR ARSES DOING NOTHING, GETTING FAT AND SOFT LIKE TOFFS AND LEECHES.
A DAY AGO, THE PEOPLE DOWN THERE FINALLY ROSE UP IN REVOLUTION. THEY DID THE SAME THING YOUR PARENTS DID, PUT IT ALL ON THE LINE WITH FARM TOOLS AND PICKAXES AGAINST A REGULAR BLOODY ARMY.
AND JUST LIKE BACK HOME, THE BLOODSUCKERS ARE COMING FOR THEM. THE FOLKS DOWN THERE MIGHT BE BRAVE, BUT BRAVE DOESN’T STOP BULLETS.”
There were some murmurs of assent on that point.
“YOU’RE THE BLOODY PEOPLE’S GRENADIERS, FIRST OF THE VANGUARD, THE BEST OF BLOODY BRITAIN.
I KNOW THAT IF YOU’D BEEN BACK HOME, THE BOOTLICKERS AND PIGS WOULD HAVE GONE RIGHT BACK INTO THE SEA. AND WE’LL GET THERE BOYS, THE CHAIRMAN WILL GET US THERE.
BUT HERE, NOW, I NEED YOU TO REMEMBER WHO THE BLOODY HELL YOU ARE COMRADES. I NEED YOU TO REMIND THE WORLD THAT IT WAS BRITAIN THAT LIT THE FLAME OF TRUE REVOLUTION. THERE ARE REACTIONARIES DOWN THERE THAT WOULD FORGET THAT.
GO AND BLOODY REMIND THEM, COMRADES.”
The lights went amber. They all held on, minds clear and sharp, as the gliders sailed in towards their landing zones.
From “War, Tyranny, and Liberation”
By mid 1946, there were signs that the Great Powers of the new and old world were growing close to a final peace agreement. More than a year in the making, the goal of negotiations was to move beyond the tense armistice that had prevailed since the end of the fighting in Africa and allow at least some degree of diplomatic normalisation.
But as negotiations closed in on the final matters and details, the nation of Colombia would emerge as a sudden spanner in the works of statesmanship.
Colombia had suffered from the duelling sabotage and political campaigns of the Brazilian and Mosleyite proxies for the better part of the year, and it seemed as if the Rio-aligned leftists might be succeeding in building a base of support despite efforts by Totalist and Government opponents alike.
At the same time, the Colombian state was struggling. The overstretched army, depleted by continuous conflicts and disasters, struggled to keep up with demands. Two of Columbia’s six divisions were permanently stationed on the Panamanian line, holding the land border against Centroamerica. Another division watched the Venezuelan border, while two more chased guerillas in the jungle and outlying towns and villages. This left the heartland dangerously depleted of defenders.
In this security vacuum, three dozen ERP fighters were able to stage a daring raid to seize the main radio station in Bogata as well as city hall and a secondary police station. Over radio, they declared that the ERP had overthrown the Government, called on the people of Colombia to take to the streets in support, and ‘formally requested’ that their revolutionary brothers to the North send immediate security aid to help protect civilians from reactionary retribution.
The paltry force of revolutionaries would not be joined by any great uprising of the local population, and even the depleted police forces of Bogata were able to clean out the rebels by the end of the day and place most of them under arrest.
Diplomatically however, the damage was done, and the pretext established.
‘Answering the invitation of the Colombian Government’ the pre-staged forces of Centroamerica hit Colombia like a sledgehammer. Airborne landings came first, deploying twenty thousand British exile troops while the Republican navy sailed its aging vessels once more.
The Panama line was subjected to bombardment, but the attacks there were merely diversionary, instead, the razor tip of Mosley’s exiles thrust in from the coast and down from the skies, carving up lines of communication and catching the political leadership off guard with the sudden, brazen violence of the assault.
It was, it must be said, an unfair fight. Poorly equipped, outnumbered, and with flagging morale, the few Colombian troops positioned to resist the landings and advance melted away under the pressure.
The campaign would still take weeks to resolve over bad roads and long distances, but the course they would follow had been evident within days. Colombian politicians were paraded forward to pantomime surrender in carefully framed shots that showed not a single British soldier, while “Colombian Proletarian Heroes” were found to represent the new and legitimate government which promptly petitioned for membership in its neighboring Centroamerican Union.
The world, on the verge of peace, suddenly found itself jolted about by the sudden and absolute deployment of military force in what the Imperial powers alleged basically equated to an unprovoked annexation of an independent country in direct violation of the understandings that underpinned armistice talks.
Saint Petersburg, Vienna, Berlin, and Tokyo took the thereto unheard of step of issuing a joint condemnation of the invasion as a betrayal of the armistice terms (which had dictated that no negotiating power would seek to change the geopolitical situation by force of arms during negotiations) and asserted the campaign had every potential to destroy the armistice and constituted a threat to Russo-Roman forces in Venezuela and British and Russo-Roman units in Cuba.
Faced with a manifestation of unity from the Imperial powers, Chicago found itself in a significant bind. Declaring that they had no knowledge of, or influence over the Mosleyite adventure would destroy American prestige and open the USSA up to the prospect of the Imperial powers pouncing on the now exposed Centroamerica, something Mosley had gambled they would find unacceptable.
Following the Centroamerican line however, meant souring relations with the Rio Pact who had their own ambitions over Columbia. It also meant facing demands for concessions in the ongoing peace negotiation process to disarm the rapidly rising tensions.
The map of South America had been redrawn to the great benefit of Mosley and his Exiles, and now it seemed that the associated military dangers and political and diplomatic costs would land on Chicago.
The American response to the situation was perhaps best expressed when Browder subsequently met with the British Republican Ambassador to affirm that the USSA would maintain its security guarantee over Centroamerica.
When told by the British ambassador that “The statement today affirms that the USSA remembers the deep security and political ties and traditions that bind our peoples together in this common struggle” Browder is alleged to have replied
“Comrade Ambassador, I don't forget.”
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You know what would be a good compromise ? Mosley head on a platter as a gift to the Russian tsar and maybe just maybe a few American units get transported away from Africa, leading a couple of African nations to fall to totally legitimate and independent anti-revolutionary movements that put European aligned governments in charge there.349: Libertad y Orden
Chicago
Colonel Flora Hill had celebrated hard when she got the job as Earl Browder’s gatekeeper. She’d gotten her hands on a fine pre-war Kentucky Bourbon and annihilated the thing in good company and record time. Her mind had been filled with fantasies of hurling the door closed in the navies face or those creepy eggheads out of Fort Dietrich or atom smashers out at North-Star.
But right now, she was facing the worst fucking part of the job, and the pain behind her eyes was worse than that time a Tuplev’s bomb load had cooked off in spitting distance of her cockpit.
“So let’s be very, very clear on what we’re saying here Jack. Because in about fifteen minutes I’m going to need to explain to the boss why the Russkies are threatening to call off the peace treaty, and why he’s had to issue a goddamn air-defence alert for half the East Coast in case they or the other Euros try and press the point.”
General Jack Casey had come with the bad news hoping to stoke a brawl with the Whites, she could see it, but his words left no doubt “I think we need to remind the Chairman that the Russians have already guaranteed that they won’t intervene in any further South American States while we’re in negotiations, this is an obvious and deliberate provocation on their part and we should respon…”
“Jack they said that before we started declaring regime change in Bogata and engaging in whatever it is this is. You know, the exact thing we said we wouldn’t do while negotiations were ongoing.”
“Now come on Flora, we haven’t done a thing. It’s the Centroamer…”
Flora ran her hands through her military cut hair in frustration. “You’re right, I guess we just ask the Russians to differentiate between one English speaking revolutionary army of the Americas carrying American weapons, and the other English speaking revolutionary army of the Americas carrying slightly newer American weapons. They really, really don’t seem to give a shit Jack. And I wouldn’t either in their shoes.”
Jack leaned in on the coffee table. “Now Comrade, I’m not sure if you can get me in to see him, but you know what we have to say. This is our red-line, right here, it has to be. If the proletariat of a nation can rise up, seize power, and then not be allowed to ask for help, how can we call ourselves leaders of the revolution at that point? We have to stand firm on this, back the Brits up.”
“Jack” Flora had him in a death stare now, the kind she normally saved for when she was looking through a gunsight “there was no damn revolution. Like three dozen guys, who were probably RAID or some garbage like that, stormed a radio station and broadcast a call for intervention for about an hour and a half until the police stormed the place and shot them. It’s not a revolution, it’s the flimsiest fucking pretext imaginable.”
“We weren’t much more when we started in Chicago.”
His delivery wasn’t smarmy or sarcastic. It was a moment of real belief that brought her back to a moment of cold calm.
“They’re going to make us pay for this at the peace table Jack. And what about Rio? Or Calcutta? We’re making progress there.”
“You don’t want to hear my opinion on that.”
“No, Jack, I’m briefing the Boss in ten so I actually do what to know since you’re the first one the Brits told about this whole fucking expedition.”
“I think that if that Pajama wearing asshole in Calcutta met a King he’d offer to clean his shoes sooner that shoot him, and as for the Russkies, I think we tell them that if they have a problem with it they’re welcome to swim here and take it up with us face to face, we can’t negotiate when it comes to our damn backyard.”
“Actually no, Jack, you’re right, I take it back, I don’t want to hear what you think because if I tell the boss that he’ll have you assigned to an Alaskan weather station.”
“Flora, Comrade, I…”
“Just tell me what else Mosley has planned, Jack. What did they tell you. I need to know everything and I need to know it now, if we’re going to mitigate this diplomatic furball.”
The General paused for a moment the, like a man carrying his own write of execution, brought out the copies of the military-military communiqué that had come in from the good Chairman Mosley.
Skies over Colombia
A harsh tug resonated through the cabin and then there was silence. The droning noise died away and the two dozen men inside were suddenly left with the quiet of their thoughts.
“RIGHT, LISTEN HERE.” The Captain’s voice brought them back from the moment of dangerous introspection. He knew, as they all did, that that was when fear began to form, where too much brain power in search of a focus was far too dangerous a thing.
“I KNOW NONE OF YOU WANTED TO BE HERE.” he bellowed through the cabin. “WE FOUGHT FOR HOME, FOR OUR PEOPLE, NONE OF US WANT ANYTHING MORE THAN TO BE THERE, BACK ON HOME SOIL, FIGHTING FOR IT.”
There was a ripple in the cabin as the turbulence as the pilot battled heavy winds on the way in.
“BUT JUST BECAUSE WE CAN’T FREE OUR HOME, DOESN’T MEAN WE HAVE LICENSE TO SIT ON OUR ARSES DOING NOTHING, GETTING FAT AND SOFT LIKE TOFFS AND LEECHES.
A DAY AGO, THE PEOPLE DOWN THERE FINALLY ROSE UP IN REVOLUTION. THEY DID THE SAME THING YOUR PARENTS DID, PUT IT ALL ON THE LINE WITH FARM TOOLS AND PICKAXES AGAINST A REGULAR BLOODY ARMY.
AND JUST LIKE BACK HOME, THE BLOODSUCKERS ARE COMING FOR THEM. THE FOLKS DOWN THERE MIGHT BE BRAVE, BUT BRAVE DOESN’T STOP BULLETS.”
There were some murmurs of assent on that point.
“YOU’RE THE BLOODY PEOPLE’S GRENADIERS, FIRST OF THE VANGUARD, THE BEST OF BLOODY BRITAIN.
I KNOW THAT IF YOU’D BEEN BACK HOME, THE BOOTLICKERS AND PIGS WOULD HAVE GONE RIGHT BACK INTO THE SEA. AND WE’LL GET THERE BOYS, THE CHAIRMAN WILL GET US THERE.
BUT HERE, NOW, I NEED YOU TO REMEMBER WHO THE BLOODY HELL YOU ARE COMRADES. I NEED YOU TO REMIND THE WORLD THAT IT WAS BRITAIN THAT LIT THE FLAME OF TRUE REVOLUTION. THERE ARE REACTIONARIES DOWN THERE THAT WOULD FORGET THAT.
GO AND BLOODY REMIND THEM, COMRADES.”
The lights went amber. They all held on, minds clear and sharp, as the gliders sailed in towards their landing zones.
From “War, Tyranny, and Liberation”
By mid 1946, there were signs that the Great Powers of the new and old world were growing close to a final peace agreement. More than a year in the making, the goal of negotiations was to move beyond the tense armistice that had prevailed since the end of the fighting in Africa and allow at least some degree of diplomatic normalisation.
But as negotiations closed in on the final matters and details, the nation of Colombia would emerge as a sudden spanner in the works of statesmanship.
Colombia had suffered from the duelling sabotage and political campaigns of the Brazilian and Mosleyite proxies for the better part of the year, and it seemed as if the Rio-aligned leftists might be succeeding in building a base of support despite efforts by Totalist and Government opponents alike.
At the same time, the Colombian state was struggling. The overstretched army, depleted by continuous conflicts and disasters, struggled to keep up with demands. Two of Columbia’s six divisions were permanently stationed on the Panamanian line, holding the land border against Centroamerica. Another division watched the Venezuelan border, while two more chased guerillas in the jungle and outlying towns and villages. This left the heartland dangerously depleted of defenders.
In this security vacuum, three dozen ERP fighters were able to stage a daring raid to seize the main radio station in Bogata as well as city hall and a secondary police station. Over radio, they declared that the ERP had overthrown the Government, called on the people of Colombia to take to the streets in support, and ‘formally requested’ that their revolutionary brothers to the North send immediate security aid to help protect civilians from reactionary retribution.
The paltry force of revolutionaries would not be joined by any great uprising of the local population, and even the depleted police forces of Bogata were able to clean out the rebels by the end of the day and place most of them under arrest.
Diplomatically however, the damage was done, and the pretext established.
‘Answering the invitation of the Colombian Government’ the pre-staged forces of Centroamerica hit Colombia like a sledgehammer. Airborne landings came first, deploying twenty thousand British exile troops while the Republican navy sailed its aging vessels once more.
The Panama line was subjected to bombardment, but the attacks there were merely diversionary, instead, the razor tip of Mosley’s exiles thrust in from the coast and down from the skies, carving up lines of communication and catching the political leadership off guard with the sudden, brazen violence of the assault.
It was, it must be said, an unfair fight. Poorly equipped, outnumbered, and with flagging morale, the few Colombian troops positioned to resist the landings and advance melted away under the pressure.
The campaign would still take weeks to resolve over bad roads and long distances, but the course they would follow had been evident within days. Colombian politicians were paraded forward to pantomime surrender in carefully framed shots that showed not a single British soldier, while “Colombian Proletarian Heroes” were found to represent the new and legitimate government which promptly petitioned for membership in its neighboring Centroamerican Union.
The world, on the verge of peace, suddenly found itself jolted about by the sudden and absolute deployment of military force in what the Imperial powers alleged basically equated to an unprovoked annexation of an independent country in direct violation of the understandings that underpinned armistice talks.
Saint Petersburg, Vienna, Berlin, and Tokyo took the thereto unheard of step of issuing a joint condemnation of the invasion as a betrayal of the armistice terms (which had dictated that no negotiating power would seek to change the geopolitical situation by force of arms during negotiations) and asserted the campaign had every potential to destroy the armistice and constituted a threat to Russo-Roman forces in Venezuela and British and Russo-Roman units in Cuba.
Faced with a manifestation of unity from the Imperial powers, Chicago found itself in a significant bind. Declaring that they had no knowledge of, or influence over the Mosleyite adventure would destroy American prestige and open the USSA up to the prospect of the Imperial powers pouncing on the now exposed Centroamerica, something Mosley had gambled they would find unacceptable.
Following the Centroamerican line however, meant souring relations with the Rio Pact who had their own ambitions over Columbia. It also meant facing demands for concessions in the ongoing peace negotiation process to disarm the rapidly rising tensions.
The map of South America had been redrawn to the great benefit of Mosley and his Exiles, and now it seemed that the associated military dangers and political and diplomatic costs would land on Chicago.
The American response to the situation was perhaps best expressed when Browder subsequently met with the British Republican Ambassador to affirm that the USSA would maintain its security guarantee over Centroamerica.
When told by the British ambassador that “The statement today affirms that the USSA remembers the deep security and political ties and traditions that bind our peoples together in this common struggle” Browder is alleged to have replied
“Comrade Ambassador, I don't forget.”
If Gandhi reunites India and then joined the international, would an Indo-Brazilian-Mexican alliance be able to outvote the USSR bloc ? Cand Gandhi be the linchpin to Browder’s ambitions getting put on leash ?
Unlikely, as Browder simply wouldn't let them do it, one way or another.
While the USSA is not as dominant as the USSR was over the Socialist sphere, it is still a legitimate powerhouse in every sense of the word. No amount of rural, developing-world quibbling can control or stop that.
In a sense, all three of those countries exist in their current form due to forbearance on the part of the Russians and Americans, who could, at the very least, destroy their governments if not actually occupy them (though Mexico is 100% an easy gain to the USSA if they wanted, with the southern areas joining the Centro American bloc).
Anyhow, they could form a competing power pole within the system, but not one that can control or influence America.
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350: Rota - Part 1
“Quite the idea isn’t it. Rotating the crown? Doing one’s time and then simply passing it on to another?”
Elizabeth was staring out at the lights of Copenhagen through the crystal glass of the the Royal Yacht’s grand stateroom. To port and starboard, the dark grey masses of defensive destroyers stood vigil, but dead ahead, the lights of Copenhagen blazed, and the sounds of celebration echoed from the new capital of Scandinavia.
“It seemed a sensible way to tie the Union together, I doubt the Danes would have been inclined to go along with it otherwise.” Vladimir cast a glance at the Princess, staring out through the glass while he nervously poured tea at the room’s small bar. Dismissing the aides had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after a day of formalities and celebrations, he had to blink and focus on keeping his hand steady as he poured. This afternoon Frederick had begun his term as Scandinavia’s royal head, and Copenhagen had taken up the mantle of Scandianvian capital…the celebrations had been…intense.
“But still” she smiled, silhouetted against the artificially illuminated night beyond the glass, “do you ever find yourself wishing you could eventually walk away from all this, leave the duty to someone else?”
He flashed a smile as he brought the tea over. “Why” he offered “would I ever want to walk away from this?” as he handed over a cup which she took, shaking her head.
“You’re troublesome, you know that?” she rebuked, taking the tea.
“Well some of the finest minds at the University of Ottawa would certainly agree with you there, but then again, so would the likes of Valois or Mosley, so certainly mixed company on that point.” He found his accent establishing itself heavily when in her presence, flipping back to that Aristocratic British timbre without a thought.
She gave him a side eyed glare then sunk back into her seat, eyes fixed on the city. “So, will you be travelling back to Saint Petersburg tomorrow?”
He sank into his own chair, complete with royal monogram at its head which only seemed to shrink the slightly built twenty nine year old ruler of the greatest Empire on the planet. “Indeed, as will a great many others here I imagine. Despite this insane provocation by Mosley, the Americans are making all the right noises, it may soon be peace in our time, or, at least, peace for a time.”
He caught the flick of a scowl before that smile he adored was back as she pretended to think for a moment. “Have you perhaps thought it might all be a mistake? Is there any danger we are letting war fatigue blind us at a critical moment?”
He sipped his tea, mood dropping. He’d been riding high on this beautiful night and had hoped, well he had hoped for something other than what he knew was about to begin. “To the contrary, I think it’s the American fatigue that’s showing. They’ve drawn back on so many points just to avoid the Colombian matter starting off another war. They’ve been at war for a decade, their infrastructure, their people may never be the same again. I fail to understand why else they would allow for the ongoing militarisation of Cuba. I do not wish to see the moment of opportunity missed.”
He could feel her hesitate. He wanted to believe that wasn’t her trying to strategize, but instead some conflict between her desire to preserve the feeling of the night, and her duty to her Uncle, and Government. But it was Elizabeth, he knew exactly which way she would go.
“But surely there are matters that could be better settled? Our Home, the very place you and I grew up, this proposed peace leaves it all under occupation. I am no military expert, but leaving ones territory and people in the hand of the enemy feels awfully like a surrender to me.”
He sipped again, then began wandering over the bar again, feeling her eyes following him. “There are perhaps ten million Americans under arms in North America, I do not see how we could prevail in Canada with the ability land only a hundredth of that. We rescued those we could, that will have to be enough.”
“Then what of India? What’s being proposed leaves…”
“I had hoped.” he said, reaching the bar area and clamping his hands around the benchtop “that we might avoid politics, at least for a night. Sir Winston is more than capable of representing your Uncle, and Britain at the talks.”
He’d offended her, he could tell. Gone too far with the rebuff. She turned to face him from across the room, a warmly lit figure against a black sky. “Well, if you would rather me limit myself to personal matters then perhaps you’d indulge me a more personal request.”
“Anything” he said, maintaining the pressure on the benchtop.
“I understand your diplomatic obligations, but some are openly speculating over the number of times you have been seen with the youngest Hapsburg girl.”
Chyort.
Vladimir felt himself shrink under her gaze. His mind raced, and pleaded for a rescue. It came, finally, with a beat of a fist against the door, and a team of Guardsmen led by Litvin.
“Apolgies your Majesty, your Highness, but we’ve just received word of a major security threat, we’re going to have to relocate the ship.”
Vladimir turned to Elizabeth who was straightening up her dress and going for her belongings. “Litvin, have your team evacuate the Princess Elizabeth first, that’s your top priority, then get us moving.”
“Of course Majesty!”
As the Guardsman moved in and guided Elizabeth out in a protective cordon, Litvin remained behind as the door closed. “Apologies for the delay Majesty.”
Vladimir finally relaxed his grip on the silent alarm built in under the bar. “I’d say that was about fifteen seconds, not bad, but we’ll see if we need to relocate your rooms closer in the future.”
Litvin didn’t ask his sovereign want had prompted the pre-arranged signal. Vladimir didn’t tell. The British princess was rapidly ferried over to the Britannia while the Romanov’s engines lit and she made for the bulk of the Pyotr Velikiy and the larger naval squadron. To keep up appearances, they’d have to make for home immediately.
And that would have the added bonus of putting fourteen navy vessels, tens of thousands of sailors, and hundreds of kilometres of ocean between the Emperor and more unwelcome questions.
He had to talk to Anastasia
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This was brought up in the story at one point. Gandhi said he will only join the Internationale's various bodies if India gains full voting rights proportional to population.
Browder refuses that for the same reason Gandhi asks for it, it would allow India to dominate every Internationale vote.
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Yeah I remember that happening but that’s why I was asking. If Gandhi succeeds Browder won’t really have the power to refuse him access into the international, he wouldn’t have grounds to. But y’all have raised a pretty good point in that this is a fight that the socialist Bloc can’t really win against the totalists, India, Mexico and Brazil don’t really have the power projection to challenge the USSA and her minions, heck Mexico’s already living on burrowed time.
Best case scenario is that the blocs reach an agreement of “you stay out of our way and we stay out of yours”. They have photo ops together, make the show of solidarity...etc. But in reality they would be 2 very different and separate entities with very differing ideologies and relations with the old world and opposing thought on “exporting the revolution”
Vladimir deserves someone who isn't going to see him as a piggy bank for the restoration of an empire long dead. I would like to see Liz's perspective on this, though; how happy is she with being used like this by Churchill? Does she have actual feelings for Vlad that she's putting under the welfare of the British Empire, or is this all mercenary? Does she regret what's coming between them?
In any case, it's pretty worrying for the state of the leadership of the UK that they actually want to entertain the idea of a liberation of Canada. That doesn't bode well for the realisticness with which the new leadership sees the Empire. Looks like they'll have to have another rude awakening.
In any case, it's pretty worrying for the state of the leadership of the UK that they actually want to entertain the idea of a liberation of Canada. That doesn't bode well for the realisticness with which the new leadership sees the Empire. Looks like they'll have to have another rude awakening.
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