1937 A Torn World (IC)

[Newne Carriebean7]

Siberian People's United Republic
Железная воля народов, руководствуясь Родзаевским, навечно объединит нацию!
Kansk
January 1st,1937

Chairman President Konstantin Rodzaevsky stared blankly out at the whipped frozen tundra that blessed the Siberian state seemingly year round, with only a brief breath and respite from the cold winter, he'd think heavy coats were as common as food, which again,sadly was not that common. It had been scarcely a year since the idea of sakan nationalism was rallied upon nationalist Sovet Naroda, the Chairman President and President Deputy,with the nations many people groups filling several political test tubes of the new plans and crafts that made the nation great. He felt wonderful that he was stuck inside the presidential building that had been hastily built. The door creaked open,drawing Rodzaevsky's cold icy stare from the surroundings in his office to be centered to the movement into his office,spying an orange bearded fat man who removed his top hat from his head.
"Ah, Samsorov,My ever scandalously obese vodka chugging depressed widow of a Defense Minister. What the hell do you want to disturb me with today?"
"Sorry to Bother you Chairman-President, But we have a new tank design we would like for you to take a look at."
"Hm? Tank design,you've peaked my interest, Now what would the details on such a machine be?"
"The BT-7.2 calvary tank.It would be an improvement over the last version."
"And what would it improve?"
"Faster speed, lighter protection for the crew, lighter armament."
"Give me the details now."
"Yes sir."
With that, Samsorov laid out the green prints on the wooden desk that was said to withstand an artillery barrage by a mad cow.
"It will be 6.1 meters long, 2.5 meters wide, be 2.3 meters tall,the armor shall be reduced from 6-40mm to 5-35mm."
Rodzaevsky raised an eyebrow and made eye contact with him.
"And the cannon?"
"Cannon will be a 47mm main gun,with a range of 4km sir."
"4km? that is a far distance in this day and age, I'll take it. I shall assign Rudenkentznov Sahar Industry to build a begining order of 300 for the next month,where the new recruits from the Satzenchervenski Military Academy will train on them before moving towards our boarder with the USSR. Your order for 300 BT-7.2 tanks have been approved."
With a mere wave of his hand, Rodzaevsky dismissed the fat defense minister,getting on the phone with the Naval Head.
"Admiral Garchatlev?"
"Yes?"
"I Want a New Carrier built,It shall be named the Orlinaya roza (eagles rose). It will be 790 feet long, 80 feet wide, have 2,200 officers and enlisted men and be able to transport nearly
90 aircraft at a top speed of 28 knots, with 26 twenty millimeter anti aircraft machine guns, a total of ten 127mm guns, and 12 forty millimeter anti aircraft flak placements installed for
anti air defense. It will be Part of two new carriers, the Orlinaya roza and the Vorob'inaya roza (sparrowed rose)."
"Sir, we have limited shipyards available for the necessary carriers,and we will have to divert much of the industry to build the materials needed for the new carriers."
"Build an Island that you can make into a shipyard, get 20,000 workers and have them shovel sand onto boats,which we shall apply a concrete barrier to set up the needed shipyard off of Sakhalin Island."
"Sir,I will try!"
With a happy smile greeting his face, he detatched the phone from his ears and whislted a satisfactory song as he began to craft letters to potential allies.

To:German Reich
From:Siberian People's United Republic

Greetings comrade, we have had our differences in the past, but I wish to set our bitter arguments aside for a new era in national politics between our two strong nations, as such I shall
send Ambassador Kotzenerov Mikaihel to your nation as a goodwill present, so that we can potentially plan an invasion of our common enemies with armaments and war support.

Vladivostok
Carrier Smirennaya roza (humbled rose)

Captain Letsneckchov Brusilov wiped the crust from his eyes as he stared out at his makeshift bedroom, the picture of his daughter and wife allowing for a smile to flank around his lip's lines and make him grin up. As he got ready for the day, he was already pestered by several aides and advisors who wanted his word on several important papers, ranging from a bar fight witness protection program to a small leak on a gunboat that he would cover the fee. His droopy eyes only sagging lower with each muse of the brilliant flashes of white that attacked by an army of hands.
Making his way up the bridge, he grabbed his cup of coffee and began to slowly sip the scorching liquid.The door opened as he was just getting comfortable with a mass of people flooding in to get to their posts.
"Morning Captain." Each one would mutter half serious half drunken stammers of steel, testaments that they were able to speak while walking half intoxicated was the true test of any good
Siberian. They still held high the stereotypes of the former Russian empire.

"Morning Gentlemen, I want all hands to get ready to sail, this carrier, a heavy cruiser and five destroyers will leave Vladivastok, sail across the ocean, anchor at Japanese Taiwan,take on supplies and continue to sail through the ocean, through the strait of Malacca and into the Indian Ocean and make a beeline for Italian Somalia, there we shall take on more supplies, do some drills and exercises with the Italians and then continue south across the Indian ocean, sail around Cape Horn, take on supplies at Belgium before maneuvering along the African west coast to Spain, where more supplies will be taken on, followed by a final trip into Germany as a defensive assurance for us."
"So we're going to Sail one of our carriers thousands of miles to pretend to support Germany into another world war?"
"That is correct, if you people have any objections, take this slit of paper and write it in the complaint box."
After Brusilov had spoken those words, he left the room to allow some democratic process to unfold. A few men stood up and went to the box,grabbing some pens and scribbling out their names, putting them in the box and sitting down proudly. When Brusilov returned, he undid the box and began to read the names out.
"Kaerslov,Radezchevik,Nosgorossich and Samcheckov, you are to be executed for betraying your superior officer!"
With a snap of his fingers and before a single protest could be uttered,several soldiers arrived in the room and arrested the men, carrying them out on the poop deck of the carrier, with an entire crew of the vessle having their eyes fixated on 'ship justice.'
"Fire!"
Several bullets entered the five men, causing them to flinch,swear and cry before losing their lives. It was a brutal display of his sheer sadistic side,and one that no crew member would forget.

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=410411

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Carolina, Puerto Rico
Having been elected only a few months ago, Enrique Castro thought it was the best time to get his people riled up with a big speech. Already had he made some big changes in attempts to improve the economy of Puerto Rico. Building tourist destinations in some of the more tropical parts of the island had helped tourism and given a decent bump to the economy, but what really helped was building farms for more resources and food, which everyone needed at the time. Of course, oil and plastics still came in from the countries willing to ship it off to them. They weren't made of resources, after all.

Either way, Castro stepped onto the podium. He cleared his threat and tapped the microphone. The clamor among the crowd grew silent and he smiled.

"Dear citizens of Puerto Rico," he began, ready to give his hopefully heartfelt speech. "Now, one of the greatest honors I have ever had in my whole life was running such an amazing country as the one we have here. It's such a beautiful place, and I glad to be pusrto rican born."

He chuckled and looked down at the podium. Now, what else could he talk about...oh, here's a good one. "So, I've been wanting to talk about this nation. The one that used to be in control of us, but that is no longer. You know them well, I'm sure. The so called U.A.S.R. This false government, this incorrect government, is a danger to the world around us. It's a danger to democracy in the northwestern hemisphere, and we will not have this continue."

He smacked his hand onto his podium and some of the audience clapped, approving the militaristic strategy. "The U.A.S.R. will not hold down Puerto Rico. We will get allies. I am already trying to get on the good side of Columbia, U.K. and Canada, and we will improve the economy, as you've seen from my few months in office, and we will improve the military. Intense military training, and we will spread our democratic values among the people. We will prevail! Vive Mucho Puerto Rico!"

The crowd cheered much louder than before and the speech continued on, now talking about promises of improving the economy even more and making jobs. Another big focus would be education. He wanted good education for his people so they could get access to good jobs. He really wants to deal with those domestic problems.

Later on, in the same city of Carolina, Enrique was talking to his military advisor, Augusto Bermúdez, about the current military situation. Augusta was looking through some papers on a clipboard, shaking his head and fidgeting just slightly. Enrique crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one foot.

"You look like you have bad news, Bermúdez," he said with a a shake of his head. "What are you finding in those papers of yours? It can't be that bad."

Augusta shook his head. "I-I'm sorry, sir, but...you want to build an army to attack the U.A.S.R? You can't be serious, can you? We can't support an army that big, and even if every man was a part of the army...it wouldn't work."

Enrique chuckled and patted his advisor on the shoulder. "Augusto, trust me when I say I know what I'm doing." He smiled at him. "We're not going after the U.A.S.R first. That's our final goal. We have many other goals first."

The advisor frowned. "What? But...what are we going after, then? Haiti? Cuba? Jamaica?"

"No, no, not Cuba. I'm thinking about making friends with them. I'm sure the U.K. wouldn't like us taking Jamaica, and Haiti...never thought about it, but no, my friend. We're going after panama."

"Panama...?" Augustine slowly nodded. "Alright...Panama. I think we can do that, but do you think you can get those in the senate to agree to going to war with you? Or the people in your cabinet, even?"

"I have my ways, Bermúdez," the president said, his smile turning into a grin. "A bit of propaganda has never hurt anyone, you know? Just leave it to me. I have connections I can make."

"Oh, uh...yes, sir." Augusto nodded and took a step back. "I'll...I'll go back to San Juan, sir. I'll...do my job, sir."

"And I'll be going around the country a bit more, just to rile up the people. I'll see you later, my friend." Enrique waved goodbye and the advisor left. He needed to think of things he could use to hurt the Panamanian reputation now.