1939! The World of Tomorrow! [PT/ALT-HIST/IC/OPEN]

[The Akasha Colony]

The year is 1939. As we look back over 20 years ago to the days when the Great War in Europe ended as the Germans marched into Paris on June 20th, 1918, it is amazing how the world has changed!

The German and Austro-Hungarian Empires have united to form Europa Zentral, a progressive and militaristic super-state that controls most of Europe.

The Russians advance proudly into a Communist future under the leadership of Premier Trotsky.

The French churn in bitter hatred and resentment at their German foe.

The British struggle to maintain their far-flung empire against new threats.

The Ottoman Empire unites the Muslim world in a new Caliphate.

The Japanese challenge the mighty nations of the West as they seek to seize a place amongst the great empires of history.

The USA attempts to stay out of the world power struggles, as possible foes draw ever closer.

The new empire of Gran Colombia seeks to challenge is neighbors for Latin-American hegemony.

And numerous other nations try to maintain their independence in a world of empires, as the tides of war threatens to sweep them into the abyss of history.

So we enter 1939! The World of Tomorrow!

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The World

Link to full-size for detailed view

Timeline of the Great War
Timeline of the post war era to the present

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Participants
List of current participants and their slots:

Caliphate: Kryskov
Europa Zentral: The Akasha Colony
France: Old Dominion
Gran Colombia: Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
Great Britain: Ish'Cong
Japan: The Nazza-Duhni
Soviet Union: Redemption-America
USA: Connori Pilgrims

ACSU: Kogvuron
Australia: National Socialist City of Cologne
Brazil: Eboinland
Communist China: Senate and People of Rome
Nationalist China: Jade Confederacy
India: Great Nepal
Nyasaland: St Lucoa
Peru: Costa Alegria
Ravinia: Burkia
Scandinavia: Meritocratic States
South Africa: Cyborg Holland
Switzerland: Alleniana
Thailand: Altito Asmoro

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Moderators

The Akasha Colony
Old Dominion
Redemption-America
Ish'Cong

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OOC Discussion Thread

LINK

[The Akasha Colony]

January 1, 1939

The sun made its way slowly across the land. The dawn of the new year first came in the Far East, where the Japanese found themselves locked in an imperial struggle for Asian hegemony while the Chinese fought to preserve their homes. As the morning crept westward, it illuminated the bustling colony of British India, and the rural fields of the Caliphate. A cold new day greeted the Russians, who toiled away in the factories, while in Europe, families spent the day at home basking in the afterglow of the Christmas season. New Year's Day finally reached the nations of the Americas, where in a Palo Alto garage, William Redington Hewlett and David Packard flipped the fateful coin that would decide the name of their new company, while further south, the newly-united Colombians continued their toils to secure their place among the Great Powers.

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Reichskanzlei
Wien, Österreich

The busy life of the Reichskanzler permitted little time for leisure. While most families were enjoying their mornings, Erich Raeder found himself in his office once again, rifling through a stack of correspondence in what was otherwise a spotless office. Minutes from the latest Reichstag meeting in Prague held a few days earlier, drafted plans for a major new naval rearmament program for his oversight, and reports from the War Ministry on the state of tank development, of particular interest to his military chief-of-staff, Heinz Guderian. Despite the lack of company, he was still dutifully clad in his naval dress uniform, as he considered it unseemly for an admiral and the chancellor to be seen in public in anything less.

Although the work was relentless, he was quite glad to be in Vienna, rather than sharing Prague with the Reichstag, who he had little patience for. His father had been right, democracy led only to bickering and 'party politics,' but the Kaiser insisted on maintaining the Reichstag's independence. Raeder had been raised in the era of Bismarck, when strong men serving their nation before themselves ruled the land, not bickering partisan fops in a chamber discussing worker's rights. Nevertheless, his own partisans in the Reichstag had managed to keep it in line with his policy direction, and in exchange, he had granted concessions to the Social Democrats to keep them placated.

The rest of the newly-constructed building was mostly empty, the staff enjoying their short holiday. The Chancellery had been based in the Hofburg Palace during its first decade as the Kaiser had taken up residence in Aachen. The Hofburg remained the property of the Habsburgs, however, and was merely a temporary arrangement while the new Chancellery was finished next door, finally opening in 1935. The Chancellery sat opposite the Neue Burg, completing the Kaiserforum first proposed in the 1860s. The new square symbolized the new empire, immaculately designed and sculpted, and a fusion of the new and the old. It was from the balcony of the Neue Burg that the formation of the Reich had first been proclaimed to the people of Vienna, and it was the political center of the new nation.

After a few hours at his desk, Raeder had finished with his papers, and his driver had arranged to take him home to his wife Erika, who had been expecting his return. He allowed himself the small pleasure of departing in the mid afternoon, rather than the evening, allowing time for a more lavish dinner than would otherwise be the norm on a working day.

[Kryskov]

Army of the Euphrates Headquarters
Outside Cairo, Egypt.
6:30 AM Local Time

The sun rose over the desert as the leader of the Army of the Euphrates, Lieutenant General Faruq Alfarsi, a 50-year-old man, stepped outside a tent. He made his way into a house on the side of the road. There, he saw the commanders of the various corps and regiments on the front line.

Now for a little back-story. The Army was appointed with three objectives in 1926-assist the Army of Anatolia with the attack on the Suez Canal. After 12 continuous years of conflict, the Anatolian Army was worn out and was soon folded in as a reserve force in the Army of the Euphrates. The Army was sent technology recently acquired by the Caliphate, and soon the Army was able to make up for the technological differences between them and their British and Egyptian counterparts and overwhelm the Sinai Peninsula and Suez Canal with numbers. The forces eventually retreated to Cairo, hunkering down in a strong, large city and blowing the Delta bridges to the North. The city now lay in partial siege for two months now, with artillery and infantry skirmishes being the only action the Army saw. Now was a good time to capitalize and lay Cairo in Caliphate hands.

"Good morning gentlemen. At ease." Alfarsi said to his junior officers. "As you know, the situation in Cairo is in need of dire attention and attack. The British and Egyptians currently have all the time in the world to prepare for an attack, so we must strike swiftly and brutally. Here is the plan." Alfarsi unrolled a map of the Lower Nile River and the Nile River Delta.

SIC: "The bridges in Cairo are essential to the Eastern Cairo front line. Therefore, Colonel Samara's air wing will carry out escorted bombing runs off the main bridges. Air superiority is in British hands, so we must do the best to scramble the enemy's fighters. Therefore, Colonel Saab's fighter bombers will take out secondary targets all along the Nile River. If the British try to stop these attacks, they may not have sufficient reserves to secure their bridges. Should the enemy focus on their bridges, we will have an easier time with the upcoming attack. These attacks shall begin today and continue until shortly before our offensive begins."

"Then, the long-range artillery will begin a general barrage on the enemy's main defenses at three in the morning. This barrage will continue on for an hour before ceasing for five minutes. Our infantry shall advance on the general artillery fire. Engineers will follow shortly behind. Should there be mines, like we believe there are, we shall cut two main transportation lines through the minefield. These lanes will be able to fit two tanks side by side. Additionally, we will attempt to make three auxiliary lanes wide enough to fit a tank in. The central lane will be filled by mortar crews to provide support to the infantry. Once our infantry gets in heavy action, our artillery will fire on specific, infantry-designated targets."

"This main attack will be accompanied by a river crossing and attack on the town of Zifta to the North and an assault on Al Ayyat to the South. We hope that the enemy will have to draw attention to these cities and away from Cairo. Otherwise, we can exploit these gaps and hope to shock the enemy lines at the flanks. Now, gentlemen, have your men well rested. We will be using the Army of Anatolia to replace out front lines today and through the attack.
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10 AM

The Caliphate had a meager Air Force, but the Italian companies that had flocked to the Calpihate manufacture plenty of planes who date to just a few years ago. Colonel Samara's 13 Fiat BR.20's, escorted by 20 Fiat G.50's, took off from a field about two miles South of the headquarters. The BR.20's carried 4 550 lb bombs. The G.50's simply carried their machine guns. Colonel Saab's wing, made out of 30 Breda Ba.65's, took off about two minutes later on a field three miles north of the HQ. They all had a 1,000 lb bomb on them. 15 headed to Zifta, 15 to Al Ayyat. The Offensive had begun.

[Costa Alegria]

Casa de Pizarro, Lima:

President Óscar Benavides sat inside the small office inside the presidential residence inside the Casa de Pizarro, the presidential palace which sat near the center of the Peruvian capital, Lima. The office was part of the presidential residence that was constructed within the Casa which he himself presided over. A military man and Field Marshal, Benavides had been at the helm of various campaigns against his belligerent northern neighbour, and had accepted responsibility for the loss of the Amazonian territory that Peru once claimed as well as the fiasco that ensued during the Caquetá River Campaign. However, he was not disillusioned yet. His army was rebuilding and now posed a serious threat to his northern neighbour. And Benavides was wanting to use it again.

But, he needed allies. A lone Peru would not have a chance of standing up to Colombia alone. But whom? Bolivia was in no fit state to join in a war against Colombia, having barely managed to subdue and eventually lose to the Paraguayans in the Gran Chaco region. Neither Chile nor Argentina were interested in whatever local disputes the Peruvians had. And anyway, Chile was Peru's second enemy after Colombia. Benavides looked east, to Brazil. Both countries had similar grievances when it came to the Colombians and both had lost territory in Colombia's imperialist expansionism. Being on both sides of the continent, both countries could stretch the Colombian defences to their limit. Both had reasonably well equipped militaries with modern weapons.

However, he was in no rush. He sat back and thought about a proverb he'd overheard when talking to the British ambassador: Good things come to those who wait.

[Burkia]

Heliniski, Ravinia,
The Grand Duke's Residency
1 January, 1939

"Thank you Martha, that will be all." The older man rumbled. The young women bowed, "Just ring the if you need me, your majesty" and left the room. The two men ate in silence for a moment; the fire cackled, warming the room even though they sat near wide open doors looking out on a mystical, snow covered forest. Blowing softly on his coffee, the older man mused: "Well Joseph, a new year is here again," he took a pull from his coffee. The mustached man sitting across from him nodded, "Indeed, your Highness. Unfortunately, another year with a terrible neighbor." The older man nodded, "For now friend, there is not much we can do. Europa Zentral will protect us from them, but I do not expect a struggle in the near future." Joseph Stalin bit into his breakfast instead of making a comment. He would just placate the man for now.

Two knocks sounded on the door, and in walked a young man. He bowed to Grand Duke Wrangel and saluted Stalin. Joseph nodded, "What is it?" The man leaned down, whispering softly to Stalin. The young man stood back up, still standing at attention. "I will handle it later in the afternoon. Thank you." The young man saluted Stalin, bowed to Wrangel and got out of Dodge. Wrangel furrowed his brow, "Why Joseph, was that a friend of yours? Why didn't you ask him to stay and eat?" Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at the man, Stalin replied: "No sir, he is an employee of mine. He is a very busy man, he could not stay." But Wrangel was already moved past the conversation, and was mumbling into his plate of food. Stalin shook his head and went back to eating. Things would be different; all he had to do was hang tight for now, just hang tight.

[Meritocratic States]

Amalienborg
Copenhagen, Denmark
January 1st, 1939

Following the creation of the Scandinavian Union, the government leaders meet every once a week in the Amalienborg located at the at the heart of Copenhagen. In the meetings, there are two major parties involved, one is the Scandinavian Council, second are the Government Powers consisting of the representatives from the Danish Folketinget, the Swedish Riksdag, the Norwegian Storting, and the Icelandic Althing. Following the Great War, the member nations agreed to declare their neutrality from any conflict and only to resort to withdrawing their neutrality when their sovereignty is in peril. The Union has been reduced to a weak economic and military alliance, and the years to come will change their position with the regional powers.

Today is January 1st, 1939. Economic prosperity and booming domestic business was due to the trade relations with Western and Central European powers and trade between member nations. As the New Year festivities sprang across the Union, the Scandinavian Council, led by the former Danish Prime Minister Thorvald Stauning, are having a morning breakfast at the Amalienborg, their workplace and residence during their term as Councilors. After his tenure as Prime Minister ended, Stauning was chosen by the member-states to be the first Chancellor of the Scandinavian Council, the executive head of the Scandinavian Union. He was chosen because he was one of the proponents of the creation of the Union.

Under his direction, the Union created the first Scandinavian Battlegroup consisting of battalions of Swedish, Danish, and Norwegian soldiers. At first battalions spoke in their own native languages, but the intense training forced the three battalions to learn their languages. Despite the small size of the battlegroup, the soldiers are rigorously trained in hostile environments, and used advanced military hardware developed internally by the Swedish arms manufacturers or imported from the Great Powers in Europe. Despite the protectionist economic policy the Union has enforced and a booming economic prospect, economies of the member-states are still dominated by foreign imports from the European powers. As a result the Council is always in session with the Government Powers on finding a way to protect their domestic economies from foreign imports.

Thorvald Stauning sighed and looked at the window, looking at the people enjoying their time off due to the festivities. Looking at his schedule, he discovers that there is a New Year's Day celebration at his family residence in Southern Jutland. Placing his things in the drawer on his table, he stood up and left his office.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

1st of January, 1939
10:00
Square of Eternal Victory, Caracas
New Year’s Declarations

The city of the rising sun, as the Colombians have come to call it, was shining is in the sun. White stone glistered in the morning sun, glass reflected the light and warmth to every part of the capital, and the temperatures were nice, for the time of day. However, the streets were abandoned. Shops were closed, and an eerie silence held the parks and schools in its grip. Apart from immigrants, who had to clean the streets after last nights’ celebration, no one was around. This scared John Goodall. Goodall was an American tourist, who had come to Gran Colombia to celebrate Old Year with his college friends. His companions were fast asleep, but he had woken up early, in a quest to obtain breakfast. He had been walking around the city for the last half hour, and apart from the cleaning crews, he hadn’t seen anyone. Even the Imperial Guard, who patrolled the alleys around the palace, were nowhere to be found. Goodall scratched his beard and stared into the distance, hoping he would eventually see the bayonets and caps and trench coats of the Guard. While he was concentrating to view past the distortions of the hot road.

Suddenly, he was pushed over by an unexpected force. He struggled to keep his balance, and found stability by grasping onto a streetlight. John looked around, trying to find the man responsible for his sudden loss of footing. A man with a black moustache and disorganised hair looked at him, his brown eye’s glistering with both fear and regret. He held the hand of a woman, black haired, also woth dark brown eye’s, but a fair face, who looked at the ground. She, in turn, held three children, who resembled their parents like photos from their own youth. Before Goodall could utter words of resentment or anger, the man silenced him. “Vamos, Gringo! We can’t be late at the New Year’s Declaration!” Before John could say anything, ask questions, show his anger, the man dragged him across the streets. Within minutes, they were at the Square of Eternal Victory.

The whole square was filled with people. The noise was almost unbearable. On all sides, all manner of folk were held back by fences and ropes, waving flags, banners, and shouting patriotic slogans, like “Viva El Imperio!” and “Vaya con Diós!”. A orchestra was playing all sorts of songs and themes, most of them hymns to nationalism. You could swear that the Europan anthem was played somewhere along there. In the middle of the square, thousands of soldiers stood in formations, their banners waving in the wind, their weapons shouldered. Most of the weapons were German, or German based, but it still was an all-inspiring sight to behold. Everyone was staring at the same place, a balcony of the Imperial Palace, where fancy suits were waving at the people below. This continued for 15 minutes, before a loud voice from the speakers almost screamed the long-awaited words: “Compatriotes! All hail the Emperor of the Empire of Great Columbia! Viva!” The soldiers repeated the Viva three times. Their thundering voices only made the crowd more enthusiastic. Viva! The orchestra began to play the Anthem, and a figure came up the balcony. Viva! The figure waved at the people, who sung the anthem loudly with the orchestra. It was and noisy mess, but even the brightest of anti-imperialists couldn’t resist this impulse of patriotism. Viva!

Gomez watched over the city. From the balcony of his palace, he could see the whole of Caracas, from the forests to the harbour. Half the city was being built at the moment. New factories popped up everywhere along the newly-build train tracks. Large flats replaced former slums. In the harbour, war- and trade ships were being constructed. Again, half the harbour, which had facilitated trade since the Spanish conquistadores, were in the scaffolding, as a decree from the emperor. The oils exports would be almost doubled when the new port was build. But that wasn’t the only reason. The new port would also provide space for a new navy, one worthy of any empire in the world. As with the factories. They weren’t only build to facilitate trade to other powers. That was a sign of colonialism. The factories produced all kinds of goods for the citizens themselves. Artificial manure, weapons, canned goods… The city screamed ambition.

The emperor was pulled back to earth. The anthem had stopped, and the sudden silence had broken the imperial day-dreaming Gomez was the subject of. He raised his fist, the one without his cigar, and only said two words. “Vamos, Compatriotes!”. The crowd exploded. “VIVA!” and the soldiers began to march. Under loud militaristic music, the heavy boots drummed on the marble square. Heavy tanks rolled along, soldier after soldier after soldier. Their caps, their coats, their weapons… the whole square was brought into a kind of trance. The only one scared by this was John Goodall, the tourist, who feared for the future of the Moustached man and his family.

[Cyborg Holland]

Zuide fields, Outskirts of Cape Town

"Penalty. Off feet"

Bal stamped his foot on the hard earth. Being a lawyer, one would have thought that Bal Vorster would have no interest in rugby. But in between times where he was hard at work in his small office in Cape Town, he liked to go out to the outskirts and watch the matches between the various small teams that called the Zuide fields their home. He stood on the touchline of the pitch, wearing inconspicuous clothes and his horn-rimmed glasses. No-one knew he was here. But that didn't really matter, all he was doing was watching rugby. 

The warm summer air blew softly over the fields as Bal made his way back to the bus stop. He sat down on the bench and took a leather bound book out of the satchel he was always seen with. He took out a pen and began to write in the book, looking up every now and again, thinking. Two other men who'd been watching the game strolled down the road and stopped at the bus stop, chatting quietly between themselves in English. Although Vorster was fluent in it, the language, and it's use in South Africa, had annoyed him. Why should a foreign imperialist power enforce its language on such a proud people. The men could have been soldiers on leave. Even then they should make an effort to the learn the language of the country they were occupying. At least it wasn't Zulu.

The bus, a new model just in from the factories in Jo'burg, rolled up and the doors hissed open. Bal stepped on and paid the meagre fee. Just a few silver coins. He tipped in an extra coin, as a personal tip for the driver. He moved to the back of the bus and took a seat by the window. There were four other people on the bus. A man and his wife, a single student, presumably going to the city to stock up on supplies for the semester ahead. The fourth was a man wearing army fatigues. He didn't look overtly English, and had light features much like many other Afrikaners. Bal paid him no notice as he buried his head in his book again and began to write. 

The bus slowly made its way into town, passing the few outskirt villages which clung to Cape Town. Through the low brick buildings and wire-fenced enclosures, Bal saw the bright blue of the ocean, dotted with white specks of yachts, and in the far distance, a convoy of cargo ships was crawling across the horizon like a camel train.

After three stops and twenty minutes of bumpy driving, they entered the heart of the city. To the north, the imperious shadow cast by Table mountain darkened the otherwise light side streets and avenues of the new city. On top of the mountain, the cable car was making its way down the almost sheer cliff face. The bus made another stop in the Central Bus Station, which was just a five minute walk from Bal's office block. He and the uniformed man both got off and they began to walk out and into the summer sunshine. 

He entered the main plaza, but stopped walking as his eyes caught something going on in the centre of the plaza. Two armed British soldiers were being confronted by a crowd of 10 to 15 men. The British soldiers were standing outside a whitewashed building with a set of steps leading to a set of heavy wooden doors. A series of pillars ran along the facade, and all of the windows on the three stories had had their blinds drawn. The men were a few yards from the two soldiers, standing as still as statues. The men were hurling abuse at them in all manner of languages. Dutch, Afrikaans, Xhosa. Two of the men were obviously of native descent, wearing the traditional Kansa robes. 

Bal walked over a group of people watching the incident. He tapped one elderly man on the shoulder and asked what was going on in Afrikaans. 

"What's going on over there?"

"There is a trial of a man who supposedly broke trading rights. Everyone knows he's not guilty, but the British want to exert their control in the new year."

"Ja, I see. Who is he?"

"A trader. Juan de Koch. He was trading and dealing with American and Japanese companies, whereas laws dictate that if you want to do that, you have to go through a British broker."

"Bullshit"

"Ja, tell them about it"

Meanwhile, more people has joined the crowd, making it up to around 20 people. The two soldiers were still motionless. As Bal turned away he heard shouts. He turned quickly to see one of soldiers wrestling off one of the soldiers. He was pushed to the ground, but was quickly helped up by the other men. Now the soldiers were angry. They had drawn their rifles and were pointing them at the group and were shouting at them in fractured Afrikaans. More had joined the group, whilst one of the soldiers, the evident superior, was talking frantically into his radio, mounted on his back.  As Bal moved towards the group, he saw the junior soldier reach for his handgun. He drew it out and fired two shots in the air. The crowd stopped there noise. But the silence lasted only a couple of seconds, before they focused solely on the junior soldier who'd fired the bullets. They pushed past him easily and charged up the steps, banging on the wooden doors. They were locked from the inside of course, and three other armed soldiers were ready on the other side. But they persisted nonetheless.

[Kryskov]

Baghdad, Baghdad Governate Province, Sultanate of Iraq


Grand Vizier Ismail Enver sat in a chair, staring at a map and a few documents while the other Viziers bickered as usual. There were two main factions- the Nationalistic Conservatives and the Pacifistic Liberals. Today's argument was over the relations between the Caliphate and Europa Zentral. The Conservatives argued that the Caliphate should not rely on industry from Europa, while the Liberals argued that this dependency steers the nation away from a devastating war. Enver suddenly spoke up.

"I do agree with my more Conservative colleagues that our industrial power is not up to par, but we cannot sever ties with Europa if we wish to survive. I propose a gradual shift towards metal making and metal working. We should use diplomacy to restore an alliance between out German and Austrian friends. I shall telegram them at once."

Code: Select all

TO: His Imperial Majesty Kaiser Otto von Habsburg and Reichschancellor Erich Raeder
From: His Most Holy Grace Caliph Abdul Mejid II and Lord Ismail Enver, Grand Vizier of the Calpihate

Dear honorable sirs,

We in the Calpihate request more amiable relations between our two great nations. We therefore invite you to Baghdad to consult with the Caliphate government for trade agreements and, should the Lord be willing, a military alliance between our two great countries.

Most Humbly and Sincerely,
Caliph Abdul Mejid II, Caliph of Islam and
Lord Ismail Enver, Grand Vizier of Islam


[Great Nepal]

Alliance high command
Undisclosed Location in Himalayas
It was just another day in the high command, primarily because it wasn't their new year and secondarily because until the motherland breath free; there could be no celebrations of any kind but that of victory against the enemy. Of course, phrase "high command" was not fully accurate: it was more of glorified disused underground mine in nationalist stronghold where Generals met to make grand plans which till today consisted of throwing bombs at British settlements in the subcontinent.
Today, they met again in the high command under new Grand Marshal after previous one was killed in explosion against the British; accidental event which is probably best not to dwell on. Either way, Grand Marshal Shishank had been crowned and he had claimed he had big plans and today was day to shine or die. Field Marshals in the council had been known to neutralize Grand Marshal if his plans did not deliver to promises... so it was matter of life and death quite literally.
As everyone walked through complicated web of tunnels and arrived approximately thirteen floors below ground; for armed men stared at them after security screening allowed each one in to the room. Once all five were present, Grand Marshal stood up and rolled out map of the subcontinent and stamped it on the wall before continuing, "today, its the new year day of those British and we can expect to see crowds, government officials and more importantly media coverage", he continued speaking as he stepped forward to grab red and yellow marker and circled several cities, "and we will make sure we are in front pages throughout the world and talking point of London. We will have two attacks, publicity one and damage one. Publicity ones will be in Kathmandu, Delhi and Islamabad as shown here by yellow circles. We have loyalist troops who will help us with this; we will open fire on air and in chaos our men will set fire to the British flag and plant our flag in the ground. here, our aim is to create news so try not to harm anyone but those who stand in way of our mission. We have several whites, they will have Rolleiflex and will capture the action. Finally, if any high value is seen: shoot them unless it disrupts our mission. Any questions?" There was silence in the room as he looked at everyone in the room.
After few minutes, he continued, there is only one red one; gateway of eastern India. Port of KolKata. Here, I want disruptions on scale never seen before. If you can, bring down the entire port till nothing is left of it. I dont care what means is used to achieve this. It is new years day, there will be lot of traffic in the port and we can hurt the British a lot if we blow up one of most important ports in the region. We have loyalist worker there who should be able to smuggle in explosives; if he fails fight the guards and enter the port and blow it up - preferably with ships. Got it? All four nodded and smiled, plan was grand and most impressive. perhaps the motherland will breath free by vijayadashami after all.

[The Akasha Colony]

SMS Bismarck
Baltic Sea

Captain Ernst Lindemann peered through his binoculars at his target from the flying bridge of his mighty command. Bismarck was the leader of her class, the first large battleships built in well over a decade for the Kaiserliche Marine and designed to stand against anything in the French Marine Nationale and British Royal Navy. Over 50,000 tonnes fully loaded, armed with a main battery of eight 38 cm SK C/34 guns, and capable of 30 knots, she was the most powerful battleship class in the navy, even though the aging Köln-Aachens had a larger gun caliber.

On this cold day in the Baltic, his men were conducting gunnery drills. The target today was an old freighter, converted for radio control and filled with worn-out scrap wood to keep her afloat as long as possible as a viable target. Although Lindemann's ship had been equipped with the latest Seetakt radar sets, this drill was to rely on optical rangefinders, still the navy's preferred targeting method. Bismarck cruised at a leisurely 21 knots, while her prey maneuvered at a laggardly eight knots, maneuvering erratically via remote control from the chase boat.

A whistle cut through the cold afternoon air to signal the start of the drill. From his perch in the main director room atop the conning tower, Kapitänleutnant Sigismund Bruhn carefully guided his sighting elements onto the target. He delicately toyed with the knobs to bring the two images projected by the stereoscopic Zeiss rangefinder into sync, indicating that he had calculated the correct range. Below, in the main battery turrets, shell and powder hoists fed the loading rooms as sailors rolled first the shells and then the brass-encased powder bags onto the loading tray, ramming them into the gun as the horizontal breech locked shut. The shells for today's drill were practice rounds, designed to emulate the flight of a real round, but lacking a bursting charge so as not to sink the target too quickly.

While this was going on, technicians huddled around a new piece of machinery installed in the flag bridge. Admiral Wilhelm Marschall, commander of the High Seas Fleet, had chosen not to accompany the ship on her cruise, and instead an experimental fire-control computer developed by Konrad Zuse had been installed. It was not connected directly to the guns, but was instead present to test the system's accuracy against the predictions of a human operator. The mechanical device whirred and clicked as the thousands of intricate gears labored to account for relative motion, flight time, and a dozen other variables.

After half a minute had passed, Bruhn signaled the bridge he had a firing solution. His director guided the main battery on target, and had aligned them to fire two-half salvoes in keeping with the bracket system that had been so successful at the Skagerrak more than two decades ago. A press of the electric trigger and the guns roared to life, sending eight shells downrange toward their target. Geysers appeared on the surface 300 meters behind and 200 meters ahead of the ship, indicating that the first solution had been 200 meters short. Bruhn immediately began recalibrating his rangefinders, eager to correct his error before the computer, but he had no reason to hurry; the blast had knocked the delicate machine out of service.

The technicians were disappointed. Several years of work had gone into the device, and while it had proven reasonably accurate in calculation, it was useless if a single salvo would put it out of action. Lindemann was not surprised. A master naval gunner, he knew first-hand how powerful the guns were; after all, they had been designed to defeat other ships of similar construction. He'd even heard reports that the British HMS Nelson had shattered her bridge windows on her first firing trials, an incident that had thankfully been avoided when he had first taken Bismarck to sea six months ago.

After another half-minute's wait, the guns erupted with flash and thunder again. This time one of the rounds scored a hit, tearing into the freighter just aft of her forecastle and cutting straight through the empty hold. The range now acquired, the drill turned into one of speed, to see how many rounds could be put through the target within the allotted time of five minutes. His officers were compiling careful logs of exactly how long each loading cycle took, how many guns were prepared for each salvo, and where any stoppages or interruptions occurred, for later rectification. For the remainder of the period, the guns thundered every 20-30 seconds, although one gun each in turrets Anton and Cesar jammed and was forced to cease firing.

By the end, the target was still afloat, if only barely. The chase boat came alongside the stricken target, observers assigned to count the exact number of hits so that the ship's accuracy could be assessed. The range had not been great, only 20,000 meters and less than half the maximum the guns had been rated for, but it was valuable data nonetheless.

The sun was setting early this far north, and this late in winter, and the crews stood down from gunnery stations to their mess halls before a round of night gunnery practice, this time focusing on the secondary battery. Night gunnery practice had been a long-standing tradition hearkening back to before the Great War, when the nighttime torpedo boat attacks were the greatest fear of any battleship admiral. The Germans, and now the Europans, had excelled at it, and Lindemann wasn't about to let his men besmirch that reputation.

===========================================================================
Palace of Aachen
Aachen

Kaiser Otto von Habsburg was not overtly fond of the palace he found himself residing in. Aachen had been chosen for its symbolism, as the legendary home of Charlemagne, whose rebuilt palace Otto now inhabited. Although he'd lived in the palace since his coronation nearly two decades ago, he had never really considered it as much a home as the Hofburg or Schönbrunn in Vienna. But monarchs were no longer allowed to indulge in such whims, such were the times, and the business of state kept him sufficiently occupied.

On his desk he found a copy of the telegram sent from the Caliph and his Grand Vizier. He'd never met either of them, although he recalled as a boy having seen the current Caliph's predecessor, Mehmed VI, at the coronation of his father and the inauguration of the Reich at the Hofburg. In the context of the reports he had been receiving from his ministers on the Imperial Privy Council, he welcomed any agreement that would ease access to additional natural resources. The Ministry of Industry had reported that rising iron prices threatened to arrest economic recovery from the ongoing Great Depression, and securing access to Kazakh resources would alleviate some of this pressure, as would opening a new market for manufactured goods from the Ruhr.

He supposed, however, that he was not the proper man to attend. He was an observer, a mediator, and an advisor in politics. While the standing constitution gave the emperor broad powers, he had been loathe to use them frequently, intervening only when he felt it necessary, and when supported by the public opinion. Hence, he supposed the chancellor was a better choice to attend, and the matter would have to be discussed. This also annoyed him; Aachen was quite far from Vienna and Prague, limiting his ability to supervise affairs, and forcing him to rely on reports from friendly deputies and members of the Privy Council. In any event, the state opening of the Reichstag was scheduled for the next week, which both he and the chancellor were required to attend, and the matter could be discussed then.

[Costa Alegria]

Casa de Pizarro. Lima, Peru. January 2nd, 1939:

The Cadillac Series 75 town car pulled through the front gates of the Casa de Pizarro, white gloved hands guiding the vehicle as it guided up to the front entrance of the palace. President Benavides watched as a couple of doormen walked down the stairs towards the car as it approached the stairs. The doors were opened as the President and his senior aide, Admiral Luis Alvarez Cortissoz, stepped out into the muggy, overcast atmosphere in Lima. Poetically, one could say that the clouds of war were beginning to form. They walked up the stairs and into the entrance hall, where they then proceeded into the Admiral Miguel Grau Room.

Inside, they both took seats and refreshments were ushered in by servants and staff of the palace. Both men reclined in their seats, glasses of cognac in hand. Benavides took a sip from his and then spoke.
"How are negotiations progressing?"
"Relatively well." Admiral Sanchez replied. "Both the Europans and Spain are interested in what we have, but the former don't want to risk their trade with the Colombians and Spain only wants to sell equipment that they don't want or is too old." Benavides nodded in comprehension.
"Have you heard from our colleague in Rome?"
"Yes," Admiral Sanchez replied. "He says training is progressing well."
"Excellent," Benavides said before clasping his hands together. "From the smells coming from the kitchen, I say lunch is almost ready." Both men rose from their seats and went into the dining room.

[The Nazza-Duhni]

January 1, 1939
Imperial Aviation HQ
General Hideki Tōjō Office

General Hideki Tōjō looked over paper work from the front. The war with China had drag to a halt. This matter of course did not sit right with him, or the other Generals. This of course would put his bid for Prime Minister. This matter left a sore taste in his month, and he did not like this taste, it was a taste of failure, or though he thought. The new Type 99 Rifle was about to roll off the lines, and he know once these new powerful rifles got in the hands of the great Japanese troops, then the war would go more his way, and once that matter was over, then he could make his move for his new position.

But he had a day of inspecting new prototypes that if OKed, would be rolling off the lines next year. Just in time for other military plans in the works. The only hiccup was the war in China, a hiccup that was keeping him from a lot things.

The sun was raising, and it was shining brightly on the Empire of Japan.

[Redemption-America]

January 1, 1939
Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Premier Leon Trotsky, along with the rest of the Politburo, sat in one of the conference rooms in the Kremlin, looking over 1938's production reports. While much of December's results wouldn't be in for a week or so, estimations showed that production was largely similar to 1937, save a moderate uptick in production of coal and iron ore. Industrialization had been continuing on a steady pace since the late 20s, and all estimates said the USSR was ahead of its potentially unfriendly neighbors to the south and immediate west. However, there was still the looming behemoth in Europe, which meant the Soviets still had a long way to go.

After some discussion, Trotsky and the Politburo hammer out an ambitious five year plan for rapid industrialization. The plan focused on massively increasing coal and iron ore production, as well as the construction of industrial infrastructure. Additionally, the plan called for the construction or expanding of large industrial complexes, such as Urals and Kramatorsk heavy machinery plants, automobile plants in Moscow and Gorky, and the tractor factories in Volgograd, Kharkov, and Cheliabinsk. The industrial cities of Magnitogorsk and Kuznetsk were to be expanded as part of a national effort to improve production of raw materials, as well as creating places to actually use them.

However, this meant more workers would be needed for mines and factories. They had to be taken from farms, which meant they had to be shifted from rural areas to cities and being given rudimentary training. It was hoped that some additional collectivization would reduce the number of laborers needed, and that more efficient farming products could be used to both increase grain production and free up more workers for factories or the military.

Internationally, while Trotsky himself longed to spread communism to other countries, the Politburo was attempting to subtly check that in order to rebuild relations with foreign nations. His word was not law, and there were many with the influence to prevent Trotsky's dreams of spreading communism through military force. He may have been convinced that the Revolution demanded more conquest, and that the Revolution made the Soviet armies invincible. However, many in the Politburo were realists, and thus continued funneling money towards tank and aircraft designers to improve the military, rather than wanting immediate intervention. It was a very delicate time, as the makeup of the world stage meant that the USSR had to be careful. Launching the wrong war at the wrong time could mean utter ruin, while the right war, timed correctly, could mean courting recognition and improved relations with the West. Many higher-ups were convinced that Leon Trotsky was not a delicate man; not wise enough to correctly play the shifting political winds of Europe and Asia, or perhaps too blindly devoted to the ideals of COMINTERN to care. During the Revolution, yes, he was invaluable, but Lenin was dead, Stalin was gone, and perhaps it was time for someone new to lead the Soviet Union.

[IshCong]

Egypt Command Headquarters, Cairo
1^st January 1939

Archibald Wavell started the day and the year with a simple and modest prayer for the safety of the Empire, of Egypt, and of friends and family wherever they may be. He had taken command not long past, in the waning months of ’38, and been given the acting rank of General, as well as General Officer Commanding-in-Chief of Egyptian Command. Now it fell to him to salvage the situation in Egypt and currently he knew that meant holding Cairo and the west banks of the Nile. Immediately upon taking command he had petitioned for reinforcements, especially armored units. He intended upon a counter-attack, but knew that armor and more troops would be necessary for any such counter-attack to be feasible.

Of course, where Wavell was set on a counter-attack, the British government itself was more divided on the issue of the war with the Caliphate and how far to take it. Wavell’s requested reinforcements had gotten caught up in these arguments and for the meantime he had adopted a policy of ‘flexible containment’ taking full advantage of the increased mobility of his motorized British divisions. Rather than committing to fixed lines, mobile air and land patrols were to detect enemy movements and rapidly relay them so that defensive units could be moved into position to counter the Caliphate units.

Much of this was based on holding the Caliphate on the eastern side of the Nile River and preventing a wider breakout. To that end bridges outside of Cairo had largely been demolished. Those bridges surviving had been or would shortly be wired to explode so that the Caliphate would be incapable of capturing an intact bridge across the Nile. The rest would rely upon being able to move more rapidly than their opponents and the highly motorized nature of Wavell’s infantry gave him an edge there. Still, reducing the mobility of the Caliphate forces would only help, so mines had been placed before the British and Egyptian ‘positions’. Even if the fields did not stop the Caliphate, they would slow them down, hopefully giving Wavell’s forces time to move into position if necessary.

He could recite those forces in his head by now. Wavell had been thinking over them constantly, keenly aware of the need for more troops and armor before his counter-attack could be launched. His Egyptian Command contained the British 8^th Army and its three divisions (the 6^th, 7^th, and 8^th) and the Egyptian Army, itself comprised of three divisions (the 1^st African, the 2^nd African, and the 3^rd African) of Egyptian troops. There was also the 14^th Division comprised of regiments from Australia, South Africa, and New Zealand. In terms of planes supporting his infantry there was one bomber group comprised of one wing of Bristol Blenheim Mk. IVs (the 90^th, 114^th, and 119^th squadrons) and two wings of Fairey Battles (the 88^th, 103^rd, 105^th, 139^th, 150^th, and 226^th squadrons) as well as a fighter wing comprised of Hawker Hurricanes (the 1^st, 49^th, and 73^rd squadrons) and a reconnaissance wing of Westland Lysanders to support.

---

Front Lines

It had not taken too long for some of the constant British light patrols to spot the oncoming Caliphate air-strike. The British forces had been keeping consistent patrols, ever wary of possible attacks by the Caliphate. The New Year may be a holiday elsewhere, but not on the front. The call was put in over the radios of the scouting elements, alerting general command and fighter command of a rather large air offensive. The Hawker Hurricane elements were hurriedly mobilized from cleared air-fields behind British lines, the 1^st Squadron as well as two flights of four planes each from the 49^th and 73^rd Squadrons were sent to ward off the attack that seemed to be heading towards Cairo while the other two flights of the 49^th Squadron were sent to protect the North and the other two flights of the 73^rd were sent Southwards. Even if they could not outright stop the Caliphate attack, they might be able to break it up, cause losses, and otherwise support anti-air defense elements.

[Connori Pilgrims]

Washington D.C.
Early January 1939

New Year 1939 came and went with the usual fanfare before it went back to being business as usual. Behind his desk in the Oval Office, President Roosevelt looked back at the more immediate past, and what needed to be done.

The latest Recession of 1937-1938 had just ended, thanks in part to a collection of public spending programs totaling 5 billion US$ started in the Spring of 1938. Although this was good news, employment was still short of what it was before the Recession. Much work remained to be done... although whether he could do anything large scale like his earlier New Deals was now in doubt, with the losses the Democrats suffered in the election just two months ago.

Damn Robert Taft and his damnable conservatives and isolationist cowards! America can't afford this kind of divisive politicking, not now, not with the world being what it was.

Just across the Caribbean, the Imperio lies in wait, likely gearing up for another wave of expansionism against its neighbors... including Panama and the Canal the US spent so much to build and has now become so vital, and not just for the US. Across the Pacific, the Japanese continue their slaughter of Chinese while that nation remains divided between Chiang and the Communists. In Africa the Caliphate continues their jihad, coincidentally threatening the Suez Canal and the trade that goes through it. And of course Europe remains ever the powder keg, though whether it be Europa Zentral or the Russians who ignite it remain to be seen.

With all these problems, the US cannot sit idly by. The Navy at least is getting *some* money for its ships, although to fight the likely threats the US will face, it obviously needs more. Congress will need some convincing for that, although the Japanese and possible Colombian threats may give him the push he needs. The Army & Army Air Corps too will need money, possibly even more than the Navy given its sad state.

A lot of work to be done this new year indeed

[Kogvuron]

Kiev
Early January 1939

A man with a dark moustache and black hair walked into the courtyard. Preceding him were five soldiers wearing black uniforms. Inside were three prisoners, tied onto poles. The soldiers lined up. "Chk-chk." They loaded their guns.

"Ready. Aim. Fire!"

A wall of sound exploded out of the barrels, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. The man nodded and motioned to the officer who had given the command. They walked ahead, leaving behind the soldiers. "How is discipline here, Petro?" "Very good, Nestor." "Good. And the economy?" "Ehhh, not so much. The quotas are struggling to be met. We are facing a shortage of ammunition." "Are there any supply depots left?" "One or two, but the Soviets have good guards. They are not plausible targets." "Alright. Thank you."

Nestor turned left and walked down Martinyvska. He had a meeting today, a very important one. As he walked, he nodded to passerby, greeting them as if they were neighbors. The market was open today, and the smell of fresh bread wafted through the street, enticing pedestrians. Nestor turned left again, into a back alley. He entered a tall building and closed the door behind him.

The room was dimly lit, and Nestor could barely make out the faces in front of him. There were three: Fedir Shchus, Serhei Wasylyshyn, and another that he did not recognize. "Hello Fedir, Serhei." He nodded towards the third. "Shall we go into the back room." The men walked into a room that branched off of the main hallway. Serhei shut the door behind them.

"I would like to talk about Mr. Karentnik," started Nestor. The other men nodded. "I fear that he is getting too hungry for power. He has begun going over even our heads to order weapons we do not need, and performing increasingly brutal executions. This is not good for the Ukraine." He paused while the other men gathered their thoughts. "Our motto says death to all that stand in the way of freedom for the working people. Gentlemen, I believe that Karentnik stand in the way of freedom for the Ukraine. He must be eliminated."

Even in such a small room, a loud murmur arose as the other men turned this idea over in their minds. "How would we go about such an act?" said Fedir. "Well, I first need you to serve under me." Seeing their alarmed faces, Nestor quickly added, "Temporarily of course. It is all for the good of the Ukraine." This relieved the others a little, but they were still on edge. "And then?" asked the third man. "Then," started Nestor, "then, we will have him assassinated. Shouldn't be too hard to do. Plant a man in one of the towns he is reviewing. Pistol shot to the brain. Clean deal." "And if he finds out?" questioned Serhei. "If he finds out, do it anyway." added Nestor, levering a cold stare at the others.

[Kryskov]

By the time it took the main bomber group to get to the front lines, they were almost at their cruising altitude of 4,900 feet. The planes just needed to turn into a trajectory that would take them over bridges. It would only take about a minute for the bombers to get there and drop their payload. Suddenly, what looked to be 26-32 Hurricanes. The bomber flight and their escort outnumbered these planes, but the G.50's were slower than the Hurricanes, although more maneuverable by a slim margin. The 20 G.50's intercepted the Hurricanes at a slight altitude advantage. The G.50's then drew the flight back to the bomber group. The BR.20's then opened fire with their nose turrets and dorsal turrets while turning to face north. There were some Hurricane smoking or shot down. Suddenly, one of the 13 BR.20's blew up into a fiery mess. Then, G.50's started falling. Maybe six of them were decommissioned. However, the flight had made it to the bridges, and began dropping their 4 550lb bombs onto three main bridges. The bombers quickly turned back to return, not being able to check the results in the midst of machine gun and flak fire. In total, 2 B.65's were sot down as welll as 8 G.50's.

Meanwhile, in Al Ayyat and Zifta, the flights of 15 Ba.65's with 1000lb bombs aced towards their targets. They were mostly artillery positions and infantry fortifications. Suddenly, in Zifta, 8 Hurricanes came into sight, and so the fighter-bombers dove slightly and increase the throttle, trying to overshoot the Hurricanes. No such luck came. The Hurricanes hit the flights hard. 3 planes were shot down over Zifta before even coming close to the targets. When the 65's slowly maneuvered to a set of artillery positions, they were down to just 6 planes, with two dropping their bombs in order to try to gain maneuverability. The remaining dropped their bombs, and they seemed to hit their targets somewhat. Only 3 of the original 15 came back unscathed, with the other three barely able to make it. The 65's had shot down two, maybe three fighters.

Al Ayyat was a different story. The flights there had gone directly south and then swung west to Al Ayyat. The British had less time to react, as the contact came when the fighter-bombers were already in Al Ayyat. The Ba.65's were able to safely drop their bombs over artillery and machine gun positions before any trace of the Hurricanes arrived. When they did, the Ba.65's were over Calpihate lines. Anti-aircraft Cannone da 90/53's fired while the planes battled. In the end, 1Ba.65 crash landed and all the others returned.


(OOC: Allow me to time skip?)

Army of the Euphrates Frontlines
January 2, 1939
3 AM

The flight attacks were called off following the devastating losses over Zifta. Perhaps the reserve wing and what was left of the G.50's would provide anti-air support over the attack tonight.

The artillery suddenly boomed from all across the front line. Obice da 75/18 modello 34's, Cannone da 47/32 M35's, and Obice da 105/14's were the main weapons, with Cannone da 90/53's and Mortaio da 81/14 Modello 35's providing support.

Army of the Eurphrates Frontlines
4:05 AM

The signal was given. Artillery fire once again hit the British in a general barrage after five minutes of relative silence. This signaled the infantry to advance in a movement called "Operation Lightfoot", for the infantry could not trip the armor mines the British had placed, and therefore made it easier to give cover for the engineers to clear the mines. This also exploited the strategy of the British-to use mobilized infantry to attack the enemy at weaker points in their lines. A general, large-scale line advance would prevent this, as there was essentially no extreme weak point in the Islamic line. The Infantrymen were mostly equipped with Kar98k's and Carcano rifles, but with a good bit of troops using the newly-introduced Beretta Model 38 submachine guns. Some troops had scoped rifles, allowing for engagement from even farther distances. The cover of darkness soon started to dissolve, as the explosions began illuminating the troops. Small-arms fire started to ring out. Radiomen shouted coordinates to mortar and howitzer positions as the general barrage turned into specified attacks to support the infantry. The battle had begun.

[The Chartered Colonies of Old Dominion]

France, January, 1939
OOC: I apologize for a brief post, but I thought I would just provide some background information on the political situation in France before jumping into the narrative.

IC:
1938-1939 French Parliamentary Blocs
Ruling Bloc:
Popular Front (The Far-Left):
SFIO (Socialists): Léon Blum
PCF (Communists): Maurice Thorez
Radicals (Non-Marxist Left): Edouard Daladier
-
Opposition Blocs:
Freedom Front (The Far-Right):
-PPF (Fascists): Jacques Doriot
-PSF (Fascists): Francois de La Rocque
-Republican Federation (Ultra-Nationalists): Louis Marin
-Action Francaise (Monarchists): Jacques Bainville
-Neo-Socialists: Marcel Déat
-PAPF (Agrarian Corporatists): Pierre Mathé
Centrist Groups:
-Democratic Alliance (Centrists)
Center Right Faction: Paul Reynaud
Center Left Faction: Pierre-Étienne Flandin
-Independent Radicals (Right-wing defectors from the Radical Party)
-Independent Left (Small Center-Left parties)

For three years France has been under the leadership of Léon Blum's Popular Front, a coalition of the Communists, the Socialists, and the Radicals. Though this coalition dominates the National Assembly and the Senate it is increasingly crippled by factionalism. This factionalism was present from the beginning with the Communists hostile to the Radicals and visa versa. The Spanish Civil War has exacerbated the situation; the Communists favoring an invasion of Spain and the Radicals opposed to such a course. Blum eventually secured heavy artillery for the Republicans, but it was too little, too late. The Nationalists had received massive support from Europa Zentral. With Franco's victory and the French economy still not recovered from the Depression, though conditions have improved, Blum's leadership is questioned. It seems likely that the Popular Front will split, either the Communists or the Radicals will leave the coalition. It is well known that Edouard Daladier desires the premiership, so whether Blum can rely on his erstwhile ally is doubtful.

When it came to power in 1936, the Popular Front outlawed the right-wing paramilitary leagues. This made some go under ground, but many went legitimate and stood for election as political parties. To the horror of the left several fascist parties established political presence in the National Assembly and legislature, voted into office by students and war veterans. Jacques Doriot negotiated an alliance with the conservative Republican Federation to form the Freedom Front, the main opposition group in the legislature. Their numbers have steadily grown and they now seemed poised to make a serious attempt in the next election. They have chosen Pierre Taittinger, the popular mayor of Paris, as their leader. What's more they have the support of many of France's generals and the wealthiest of France's industrialists. Doriot's PPF has a well developed propaganda arm and with millions of francs at his disposal he can challenge the Popular Front's hegemony.

The center is dominated by the Democratic Alliance, which caters to France's conservative bourgeois. They are opposed to the Popular Front but are skeptical of the Freedom Front. They will play a key role in the next election and if the Popular Front splits, they will decide that election.

[Burkia]

Helsinki, Ravinia,
Independence Square,
January, 1939

Nothing says "F-YOU!" to your larger neighbor than a military parade in your capital. 2,000 troops, 200 decrepit tanks, 200 trucks pulling artillery pieces and a flyover by five biplanes. All of Helsinki was there; they didn't have much a choice: the Royal Salainen Poliisi (Royal Secret Police), roamed the streets, ensuring the people were being as patriotic as humanely possible and taking away those who weren't. People were completely terrified: rumor was that Stalin's RSP paid good money for folks to rat out on a disloyal subject. Neighbors were turning on each other; both men would get paid, but they'd both be sent off to a prison camp, their homes and belongings sold to benefit the State.

So the residents of Helsinki got up early and walked to the parade route, freezing in the cold January morning, but hiding their displeasure for fear of being picked up by the RSP. Mikal Rovolinksi was one of these residents. Rovolinski grew up in Tsarist Russia, and later fought for the White Army during the Russian Civil War. He wasn't fond of the Tsar, but he definitely wasn't too keen about the Bolsheviks either. He fought for the Northwestern Army, seeing battle across northern Russia. After the failure at Petrograd, he fled to the newly independent Ravinia, settling in Helsinski.

The parade was starting, a band was sounding the Ravinian National Anthem. People began to sing along. A truck passed by, leading the parade with a large picture of Grand Duke Wrangel. Rovolinski cheered with the others. A second truck followed, carrying a picture of Chancellor Stalin. People cheered, yet Rovolinski did not. He turned his back angrily as Stalin's picture passed. In Mikal Rovolinski's eyes, the former Communist was not to be trusted. The people around him stared, but said nothing. As the truck passed, Mikal turned back around to view the parade. Another truck passed by: on it stood a group of soldiers, decorated for bravery. Their truck dragged a picture of Trotsky, covered in mud and with a red 'X' on it. People cheered, and those closest to the streets spit at the picture. Rovolinski was about to push past the crowd to follow suit, when he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, he was met by three men in overcoats and rifles. "You come with us." Mikal's eyes flicked up to the insignia on their hats: RSP. "I have done nothing wrong. I am loyal to the Crown!" The older officer seemed unfazed: "You will come with us now," his voice full of steel. "But I am a veteran of the White Army! I have done nothing but supported Ravinia! I have done nothin-" The older officer slapped Mikal across the face. The two other officers grabbed him and started dragging him away. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Mikal Rovolinski began to sob as he was pulled away to his certain death.

Helsinki, Ravinia,
Chancellor's Office
January, 1939

Joseph Stalin sat at his desk, chain-smoking cigarettes and reading reports. It was up to him to lead his nation through industrialization. The process was starting, and results so far were good: industrial output was up, and the unemployment rate was down. His problem lied in the fact that his industry was not designed to support a military. He looked longingly at France's vast air force and England's mechanized military. Unfortunately for him, the entirety of his mechanized force had taken part in the military parade. He needed to do something...the Great Powers had supported Ravinia militarily, making her a strong buffer against Trotskyist Russia. But Stalin did not want to continue taking handouts. It would take State owned factories.....or maybe some fool owning a factory, but Stalin pulling the strings. That would work best. But he'd need help from the Great Powers. Stalin went to work drafting letters, sent through intermediaries so Stalin could ensure that the powers would not know he was getting advice from their adversaries.

ATTENTION EUROPA ZENTRAL

To: Erich Raeder, Reichschancellor of Der Christliche Kaiserreich Europa Zentral
From: Joseph Stalin, Chancellor of Ravinia
Subject: Request for EZ Military Industrialists to visit Ravinia
Security: TOP SECRET

Reichschancellor Raeder,

To start with, Happy New Year. I wish you and the great nation of Europa Zentral a good year filled with your greatest dreams and desires achieved. This is partly the reason I write to you today: Ravinia's hopes and dreams are threatened by Trotskyist Russia every day. Her expansionism is evident as she stares at Ravinia like a hungry wolf, waiting to pounce on an helpless baby rabbit. But this baby rabbit has claws; unfortunately, Ravinia cannot stave off the hungry wolf forever. That is why I am requesting that EZ Military Industrialists visit Ravinia to meet with some of our own factory owners so that we can refine our output of warplanes. Any assistance you can offer would be excellent, and Ravinia would be in your debt.

(signed)
Joseph Stalin,
Chancellor of Ravinia

ATTENTION FRANCE

To: President of the Council of Ministers Leon Blum
From: Joseph Stalin, Chancellor of Ravinia
Subject: Request for French Military Industrialists to visit Ravinia
Security: TOP SECRET

PM Blum,

To start with, Happy New Year. I wish you and the great nation of France a good year filled with your greatest dreams and desires achieved. This is partly the reason I write to you today: Ravinia's hopes and dreams are threatened by Trotskyist Russia every day. Her expansionism is evident as she stares at Ravinia like a hungry wolf, waiting to pounce on an helpless baby rabbit. But this baby rabbit has claws; unfortunately, Ravinia cannot stave off the hungry wolf forever. That is why I am requesting that French Military Industrialists visit Ravinia to meet with some of our own factory owners so that we can refine our output of tanks. Any assistance you can offer would be excellent, and Ravinia would be in your debt.

(signed)
Joseph Stalin,
Chancellor of Ravinia

[IshCong]

Viceroy’s House, New Delhi
Midnight, London Time

The sounds of bell chimes^[1] reverberated through the Mughal Gardens located at the back of the Viceroy’s House. There were bells towards the front of the House, on the eastern side, but they remained silent, as they would so long as British rule in India continued. No, these bell chimes were coming over the radio from the BBC Empire Service, the chimes of Big Ben marking the New Year, even though locally speaking it had been the New Year several hours past. As the twelfth and final chime fell away a band hired for the event picked up, playing the Auld Lang Syne as people arranged in circles sang along to the tune. As the song ended, Victor John Hope, His Excellency, The Most Honourable, the Marquess of Linlithgow and the Viceroy and Governor-General of India raised a glass of fine wine in a toast.
“Today we bear witness to the dawn of a New Year, one that, God willing, shall be marked by prosperity for all. Let the unity of this great nation never fail; from London to New Delhi we must and shall stand firm against what dangers and instabilities may loom. In this we support the peoples of this nation both present and future and our brave boys fighting against the dastardly militant ambitions of the Caliphate in Egypt. Let us not forget what they sacrifice for Britain, nor besmirch or undercut their efforts on our behalves,” Linlithgow intoned, ending with a brief moment of silence before concluding, grandiose form, “God save the King, God save the Empire, and God save the Raj!” Echoes of the cheer resounded around the Gardens before the celebrations continued.

The Gardens had been decorated grandly, lights strung along walkways and the House itself, bands playing in the background to serenade the elite of New Delhi. Most of the elite had gathered at the Viceroy’s House to celebrate the New Year, perhaps unsurprisingly. The same was largely true elsewhere, the British elite residents in India celebrating privately and in a rather British fashion.

In truth, Linlithgow was trying to take his ease today. India had proven more difficult to settle than he had hoped, though in retrospect he supposed he had been more optimistic than was proper. The United Alliance between the Hindu Defence League and the Muslim League had been more than slightly surprising and attempts to gain the cooperation of the Indian Princes had borne…less than satisfactory outcomes. He hoped that the resurgence of war in Egypt would prove to be a unifying factor, and as such Linlithgow had focused on supporting the war effort, though he had stopped shy of calling for the expansion of the war by means of an Indian entry into the war thus far. That decision lay with higher personages back home in London, and no doubt the decision of whether to expand the war, and if so how far it should be expanded, would be made shortly. Linlithgow was well aware of this, and already knew that if called upon, he would support any such decision.

As the war had not yet spread to India, security was not as tight as it may have been had India been fully entangled in the war with the Caliphate, though it was somewhat higher than it may have been in peace-time. This was, of course, more true for vital strategic targets such as the port at Calcutta, the Viceroy’s House, military bases and so forth, as well as places with a history of violent insurrection.


OOC:
^[1]Okay, so it should be “BBC Empire Service”, I believe. Imagine it says what is appropriate.

[Kryskov]

OOC: Address my attack?

IC:

The mortar infantry soon set up in an auxiliary lane cleared by the engineers. However, the main armor transport lanes were taking longer to diffuse. The armor, consisting of Panzer II's, L3/33's, and captured Cruiser Mk I's, had to either wait or use the two open auxiliary lines to move through.

[Great Nepal]

Mughal Gardens
New Delhi
Himachal, a guard in the gardens was waiting for the perfect moment: to shoot Viceroy and signal commencement of Operation Jaishor however as per order of high council he waited till end of Viceroy's speech... it would make better show for viceroy to drop dead just after he spoke to world via BBC. That would also stop those westerners making shit up about figure's last words - even those westerners will have trouble lying to the world when world has seen with their eyes.
As Governor-General said, "God save the Raj!", himachal raised rifle; before anyone could respond, bullet had been released from the barrel towards Governor-General. It missed. It hit the guy standing next to governor instead, by the time he fired next shot Governor had moved and panic had set in the crowd... it was too late to kill the governor. "Shit", exclaimed Himachal just moments before he was shot by other guards.
Of course, he wasn't working alone and his shot was signal to roll. A member of the crowd pushed waiter to ground before grabbing wine bottle, threw lighted match in it and threw it towards the guards. Meanwhile twenty people rushed towards where union jack was and touched it with match light.
Thirty two aged man, in the spot where governor was as he took out alliance's flag and held it on his right side and spoke, "I stand here without arms to proclaim end of brutal and unacceptable occupation of our motherland by British government from London. Our culture, our tradition and our brothers are being oppressed by the occupiers who stand here drinking wine and celebrating while our nation which gave birth to us chokes under occupation of British. We are welcoming to our guests but time comes when guest has overstayed their welcome and British have done just that. Time has come for them to go. British have been given ultimatum of seven days to start withdrawal from the subcontinent or it shall get bloody. Those blood, souls and tears will be in hands of British if they choose to ignore the ultimatum." Cameraman had escaped out of the area while accomplices had blended in with the members.
Similar actions had taken place in Kathmandu and Islamabad.

Port of KolKata
Two men arrived in gate in suit, with a black briefcase and spoke to the guard in fluent English with British accent, "I have got delivery coming in for my company that I need to inspect before sending it off to Europe", he said as he produced legitimate looking document from his pocket with details smuggled out by the loyalist port worker...

[IshCong]

OOC: @Kryskov: Please be patient, I’m trying to respond to three people right now, so if I don’t reply immediately it isn’t because I’m ignoring you. Each post will probably focus on one topic, rather than typing up incredibly long posts dealing with absolutely everything that is going on.

IC:
Main Plaza, Cape Town

Private Alan Long had just slung his rifle onto his back, opting instead to draw his Enfield No. 2 Mk. I revolver and fired it into the air, but it had not at all had the effect he’d desired. The South Africans had been still for only a moment before rushing past him and his partner, Michael Parker, and banging on the doors of the modest building. His Afrikaans wasn’t great, but he kept bellowing at the crowd to cease their attack on the building and disperse in a horrid torrent of mixed Afrikaans and English. The crowd wasn’t listening.

Beside Alan Long, Michael Parker had also slung his rifle alongside his radio, drawing his own pistol with one hand while manipulating the radio with the other. Specifically, he was informing the higher ups that they might have a developing situation here. Twenty people were not too grand a threat, but if the crowd grew, the situation could devolve rapidly. Beside him he could hear the sudden explosion of gunfire as Alan Long fired off another two rounds, still into the air but this time lower, nearer the heads of the assembled crowd though not so low he might actually hit anyone. Once again, Alan Long trained his revolver on the crowd, once more shouting at them in his mix of Afrikaans and English. Both soldiers had turned to face the crowd, though Michael Parker kept an eye out for any newcomers.

Inside, the other three soldiers had taken to locking the doors and unslinging their own Lee-Enfield rifles. They too were shouting at the crowd to disperse, informing them that their attack on the building was illegal and that if they persisted they could expect disciplinary action. All the soldiers were more than a tad jarred and nervous, but that had largely translated into louder shouts. Certainly, the mood inside the building was tense and growing ever more tense by the moment.

[The Chartered Colonies of Old Dominion]

France, January, 1939
Parliament was not set to open for another week, but an unexpected communique from Joseph Stalin was enough to call a meeting of the Superior War Council. France had never enjoyed anything more than a polite relationship with the Ravinian leadership and that relationship had decline during the ‘30’s. Both the Cartel de Gauches and the Popular Front governments had established friendly relationships with the Soviet Union. In 1935 France and the USSR had signed a Defense Pact, with the intent of encircling Europa Zentral, and by extension Ravinia.
Even though little real cooperation had come from the pact, there was no thought of jeopardizing it. France could not afford to lose its one major counterweight to the Reich on the continent. The British were not to be trusted. Even if the diplomatic situation had been more favorable, the expense was beyond what France could afford. Besides, as General Gamelin informed Blum, the French Army’s demands could barely be met by the French industrial sector. So it would be a no to Ravinia.

TO RAVINIA:

To: Josef Stalin, Chancellor of the Grand-Duchy of Ravinia
From: Joseph Paul-Boncour, Foreign Minister of the French Republic
Subject: Request for French Military industrialists to visit Ravinia
Security: Top Secret

Chancellor Stalin,

The government of the French Republic returns your felicities with thanks Chancellor. However, we must unfortunately decline your request, owing to the unstable financial situation present in the world today. Perhaps in the future Ravinia and France can pursue a closer economic and military relationship, but for now, this is unfeasible. The Council of Ministries respectfully suggests that the Grand-Duchy pursue a policy of peace with all its neighbors. Good luck in the new year.

Sincerely,
Joseph Paul-Boncour
Foreign Minister for France