Reliving the Past

[Azazia]

[ooc]What follows are stories from Oceania's past.[/ooc]

8 Dec 1941
Adamstown, British New Indies, Commonwealth of Azazia

Nobody heard the droning.

It started as a whisper over the waves crashing against the Blakestown harbour breakwater. In the east, somewhere towards the Legazpian coast, the sun would soon rise. The golden morning sun would then reflect off the calm, turquoise waters of the harbour. And then they would illuminate the whitish-grey hulls of the long-hulled warships resting at anchor.

Nobody heard the droning.

The whisper became a buzz over the kettles starting to hiss and whistle on the hot stove tops in bungalows and apartments littering the palm-shaded streets. Paperboys tossed the morning dailies onto the doorsteps as men and women in bathrobes stepped into the brisk but not frigid winter morning. Soon, the hissing and whistling would cease as water would pour over the loose tea leaves gathered in the pots on kitchen tables.

Nobody heard the droning.

The buzz became a low drone over the roosters and chickens cooing, crowing, and squawking in the sand-dusted streets of residential Adamstown. The birds owned the streets during the day, for the feral cats that owned the night were now settling down for sleep. And as the sun began to drag itself up over the horizon, the roosters and chickens began to play chicken with the automobiles and streetcars beginning to rumble to life.

Nobody heard the droning.

The droning became a rumble on the far side, the western side, of the island away from Adamstown. The morning sun reflected off a swarm of insects now rising from the west while local trawlers shoved off from the docks along the coast. Palms swayed in the morning breeze while commuters began their slow trek to work in Adamstown, on the other side of the volcanos that dominated the island.

Nobody heard the droning.

The rumble became horror. The first insects raced over the shoreline, above the heads of civilians, seaman, and soldiers on their way to work. The astute and the awake noticed not the roundel of the Commonwealth of Azazia but the red sun of the Imperial Japanese Navy.

Nobody heard the droning.

But all heard the whistle of the falling bombs. One group of Japanese bombers raced through the valleys across the centre of the island while another swung around from the north. The Royal Navy sat silent, at anchor, as the first wave dropped their ordnance unopposed.

Adamstown hosted the 4th Destroyer Squadron along with the cruisers Georgetown and Chatham and a few smaller warships. The Georgetown, an older ship set to be scrapped in the new year, suffered a bomb through her midsection. Witnesses ashore would later swear that the bomb fell down into her number three funnel. In all likelihood, it just missed for the detonation ignited, rather ironically, anti-aircraft shells improperly stowed. The resulting fire swept through the ship and within minutes a fireball engulfed the ship.

The Chatham lumbered to life, her anti-aircraft guns piercing the morning sky, bringing down several of the attackers. However, one torpedo bomber dropped a single torpedo that slammed into the Chatham's rudder. The cruiser, locked into a hurried turn to port to escape the harbour, became locked into her course and quickly ran into the opening in the breakwater. She blocked all but two of the destroyers from escaping the harbour, locking the fish in the barrel.

Within the hour, the western-most presence of the Royal Navy in the Home Islands was destroyed. Unbeknownst to the commanders at Adamstown, the Japanese Navy was systematically destroying the western-most outposts of the Royal Navy. Carrier-borne bombers struck the naval bases at Adamstown, Caliz, and Porto Viseu and sank all but one of the Royal Navy's six cruisers. The only battleship, the HMS Azazia, was sunk in Porto Viseu. Airbases in the same cities along with Wakamaru, Sao Felix, and Port Dixon were also struck with dozens of aircraft were destroyed.

Nobody heard the droning.

By noon, the droning became a silence punctuated only by secondary explosions, sirens, and the moans of the dying and crying of the living for the dead. The war in the Pacific had begun and the Commonwealth of Azazia was crippled; the darkest days were yet to come.

[Northern Bavungria]

sorry to disturb your rp is this open ?

[Azazia]

[ooc]I had never really considered the possibility of it being open, but it can be. That said, I roughly know how the story(ies) end, but most of the fun is in getting there.[/ooc]

[Azazia]

Outside Blakestown, British New Indies
Commonwealth of Celaria

"Incoming!"

Private Percival Henry grabbed his rifle in one hand and used his other to hold his helmet to his head as he scrambled through the trench to the shelter. Somewhere behind the line, the ground exploded in a near-deafening roar before showering Henry and the rest of his mates with dirt and debris. Somewhere along the line, boys began to scream and cry and whimper and sob. Some were frightened. Some were sliced open by errant scraps of metal or shards of stone. Some were never supposed to be there, at war.

Henry, he was nothing but an eager boy from Goderich, an agricultural market city along the Eaudevie River in the heart of Celaria. He had never seen the sea before the war started and he had never expected to see it. His fate was to work the orchards that his father, his father's father, and his father's father's father had worked for nearly a century. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could take a vacation. Sail down the Eaudevie. Holiday in Grimsley, Turenne, or Port Royal. But he would need several good harvests to save enough credits for that.

But then came the Japanese.

The war had started only yesterday, but for some years now, Celaria had been on edge. News of Manchuria, Mongolia, China…the Pacific appeared increasingly as nothing but a Japanese lake.

Henry was born in 1922, only ten years after the Commonwealth of Celaria gained its independence from the European powers that had colonised its landmass during the preceding three centuries. His early years were good years. Henry's family ate well and lived well on the family farm. But, by 1930 the times had become tough. The global depression affected Celaria as it did many other countries. People were earning less. And so they ate less. And so more of the Henry's crop went to waste.

But now the nineteen-year-old had nothing to eat but tins of processed meat and stale biscuits to nibble on with his tea. Henry peered over the edge of the trench despite the shouting of his sergeant. Off on the horizon he could make out the shapes of dozens of Japanese warships and troop ships. And then there was a flash. Then a chain of flashes along several of the larger ships. There was a distant rumble, like thunder on a hot, summer day, and then an eerie, ominous whistling.

"Find cover, boys," the sergeant shouted. And then the world ended. Or so it seemed to the farmers, sons of farmers, bankers and businessmen that made up the bulk of the Regencia Rifles regiment. They had dreamed of the glories of war, as young men are wont to do. But never had they dreamed nightmares. Never had woken up from night terrors. None but the few seasoned sergeants who had served in Europe had fathomed salvo fire from battleships landing along the trenches.

Henry, though, could remember 1936. When smartly dressed Japanese businessmen arrived at the Henry farm, arranging for the purchase of fruits and vegetables. Some were headed for Japan, but most were destined for the small Japanese colony on the island of Shimo. The bulk of increasing Celarian-Japanese trade, however, was in the raw materials and natural resources that Japan sorely lacked.

The Celarian government, headed by President Leopold Breckner and Prime Minister Gerald Hathaway, were keen on boosting trade with Japan. Neither were particularly keen on Japan's expansion throughout southeast Asia. But, in interviews with newspapers and on radio, the two men repeatedly pointed out that Japan would have no reason to become aggressive with a friendly and cooperative trading partner.

CLICK. Like that, Henry had emptied his fourth, eight-round magazine for his Tapham rifle. He thrust his hand into the pile of magazines beneath him while his eyes remained locked on the Japanese infantry starting to pour onto the beach, only miles from Blakestown. Another salvo from Japanese battleships and cruisers rocked the Celarian line, forcing most of the infantry to take cover as the Japanese advanced up the beach.

Henry quick brought himself back up and looked towards a dune a few hundred yards distant. A Japanese machine gun crew was hurriedly setting their weapon up in a position that would give them a better angle and elevation to pour fire into the Celarian lines. Henry tapped the shoulder of his mate, Allen McDonald and pointed to the dune. Each boy looked down their iron sights and fired off a few rounds until the Japanese soldiers crumpled, falling atop their weapon.

In 1940, Japan joined Germany and Italy to become the Axis Powers. Despite official Celarian neutrality, given the still tense divisions between the former British and German colonial interests in Celaria, the Commonwealth was known to be a de facto supporter of Great Britain. Even the Axis remembered the commissioning and subsequent donation of the battlecruiser Celaria to the British Royal Navy during World War I. But already in the Pacific, the cities of Peking, Shanghai, and Nanking had fallen to the Japanese. No longer could Celaria avoid facing the truth that war with Japan was inevitable. And so Breckner and Hathaway resigned. The subsequent late-summer elections brought the Democratic Socialists to power in Parliament and Bernard Grammerson to the presidency.

Throughout the winter and spring of 1940–41 Smith increasingly forced his will upon Grammerson, who could enact no policies of his own without the support of the determined and strong-willed Smith. In May 1941, as news of the Battle of Britain dominated the Celarian radio waves, Parliament expanded the Celarian Army. One of the new infantry regiments was that of the Regencia Rifles, to be raised in the province of Regencia where Goderich was an important urban centre. And in July 1941, Percival Henry left the family farm to fight for King and Country and joined the Regencia Rifles.

"There, there!" the sergeant shouted. He pointed to the left flank of the line where Japanese soldiers had reached the Celarian trenches.

"Heaven help us," another private muttered.

Henry whipped around, "if you want help, fire your rifle, Billy." Henry led the men in a furious round of fire that brought down over a dozen Japanese soldiers trying to make their way towards their position, moving from dune to dune. In the past fifteen minutes, the Japanese had come with a few hundred feet of Henry's section of the line. The naval gunfire had ceased, though nobody had time to consider that small blessing.

"Watch the right, lads," the sergeant announced. Henry turned quickly and saw the first Japanese soldier leap into the trench on the right flank.

CLICK. Another magazine was empty, but Henry had to feel around for a moment before looking down to see only three total magazines for the eight men still standing. He grabbed one and slammed it into his rifle, and fired off a round at a man some fifty feet away. He heard four more clicks and then panic.

"We have no more ammo, Sergeant."

Henry took down two more soldier. "We still have a lot of Japs out there, Sergeant," he shouted over another soldier's falling.

"Fix bayonets!"

Not a moment later, Henry brought down another Jap. He felt a warm splash on his face. "Allen?" Silence. "You slanty-eyed bastards!"

Squeeze. Bang. Dead Jap.

Squeeze. Bang. Dead Jap.

Squeeze. Bang. Dead Jap.

CLICK.

Henry quickly attached his bayonet as the Japanese began to jump into the trench.

One man was running straight for him, shrieking and screaming all the way.

A round hit Henry's shoulder, throwing him back against the trench wall.

He feebly attempted to raise his rifle. "Go to hell, you b—"

The Japanese bayonet ran through his throat.

And then a round went through his face.

[Azazia]

9 Feb 1942
Georgetown, New Britain
Commonwealth of Celaria

"And no contact since?"

"No, Prime Minister."

Percival Smith shook his head. Night had descended upon Georgetown, but unlike years past the streetlights lit nothing. They were all out in an attempt to darken the skies over the Celarian capital. Only last week, the Japanese had surprised all by managing to raid the fortified naval base at Ruytershaven where they sunk several escort ships and wrecked a nearby airfield. But during all this time, Georgetown had remained in contact with the local government, which had fled to Sagres.

"How many ships were there?"

"They reported dozens, sir. Undoubtedly an amphibious invasion." General Alan Ailes headed the Celarian Army, or what was left of it. Ailes watched as Smith's face paled. "We have already conceded most of Sebastia and Mariana with units now fortifying positions along these rivers," Ailes pointed on a map pinned to the wall. The rivers in question formed the border between the provinces of Sebastia and Joãocosta as well as Mariana and Beira.

"What about Aviz?" Smith enquired, worried about one of the larger cities in the region.

Ailes nodded slowly. "Certainly, sir, the city is a major transport hub. The Bemarstia Railway runs from Porto Viseu down through Mariana and into Aviz before running southeast towards Torogo. Additionally, two other railways meet in the city and run throughout Mariana and Sebastia. The Aviz River is also navigable up through just east of the city." Ailes then paused. "And almost certainly, sir, the Japanese know this. However, to defend Beira and Joãocosta—specifically the strategic ports of Beleza and Porto Viseu—we had to withdraw from Aviz."

Smith quietly nodded before moving away from the wall and finding his seat behind his desk. Despite the blackout throughout Georgetown, the bunker beneath Parliament featured newly installed fluorescent lights that cast cast the shadow of Smith's forehead across the remainder of his face. Finally, after what Ailes felt to be an eternity, Smith's face rose. Gone was the ashen fear, his square jaw was set, his lips straight and in his bluish-grey eyes Ailes could see a reddish glow.

10 Feb 1942
Aviz, Mariana
Commonwealth of Celaria

Catarina Alves held Olavo close to her breast. Unlike her daughter Maria, who had reached the age of mannerless eating and was thus cramming yesterday's bread into her small mouth, he was still breast-feeding. Ordinarily her husband Gil would have kept Maria in line, but he had volunteered for the army and went off to Sagres several days ago. She had it tough, it was true, but he was earning more now than he did working the odd street jobs. His wages paid for the bread and the fruits and vegetables—rare as they were becoming. But still, she missed him.

Their apartment was small and cramped with just one bedroom shared by the whole family. They did, however, have a living room that functioned also as their kitchen and dining room. Catarina managed it all during the evening, but during the day she struggled as she spent most of her time in the apartment working at the table making matchboxes.

But on nights like tonight, she gave Maria some vegetable stew and some bread and then fed Olavo. At the very least, with all that was going on in the world, the lights were out in Aviz during the evening and when the children quieted down, she could steal a glance or two out the smudgy, dirty windows and catch the stars and the moon that attempted to replace the dark streetlights.

Tonight, though, the moon was different. Odd specks were moving across the half-lit face. She cradled Olavo against her and kept one eye on Maria as the specks became birds. But not normal birds, buzzing birds. She placed Olavo down on the table, ignoring his crying for a moment for the birds began to whistle. And then in an instant, hell descended upon Aviz.

The Alves' apartment was two blocks away from one of the main rail yards. Bombers flying over the city released their payloads on fuel depots, armories, railway junctions, bridges, radio stations, and any other targets of some military importance. Inside the apartment, Catarina quickly gathered her children and fled to the hallway where dozens of other husband- and father-less families were gathered. Most of the conversations and the shouting and screaming were in Portuguese. But in a moment they were drowned out by an enormous cracking sound and then all were coated in dust.

Catarina turned back to see the frame to her apartment door blown across the hallway with fragments of her table and kitchenware littering the hall floor. Her children were screaming. Her neighbour's children were screaming. The whole floor was screaming. The whole building was screaming. An older man named Jorge Soares, a veteran of World War I who had learned English in the army and now went by George, quickly came up the hall.

"Silêncio!" he shouted repeatedly. After several moments, the women had quieted down—though the children remained crying—and George continued in Portuguese, "go outside and down to the underground station." He pointed towards the stairwell. "You will all be safer there."

Catarina and the other mothers gathered their screaming children and led them out of the five-story brick building. As they crossed the street amid explosions still close by, she turned around and caught a glimpse of the side of the building where her apartment was…or had been. The street appeared to have been consumed by a massive hole and that side of the building had disappeared.

Most of the building found its way into the subway station—though nobody ever saw George Soares again. They remained until dawn the next morning and emerged to find their neighbourhood reduced to rubble with only the occasional facade still standing. Catarina's apartment building had vanished entirely, replaced by a heap of stone and brick and shattered memories. She and the other mothers simply walked back to their building and started digging.

11 Feb 1942
Asbury Palace
Georgetown, New Britain
Commonwealth of Celaria

Smith and Ailes stood outside a heavy wooden door flanked by two members of the Royal Household Guard. In years past, when the two had stood in the very same spot, the two men were dressed in bright red outfits with pikes in hand and swords hanging from their belt. But like so much in Celaria, things had changed. The guards were now in battle uniforms with their Tapham rifles by their side and pistols holstered. Only yesterday had radio reports confirmed the capital's fear, Sagres had fallen to the Japanese. Nobody quite knew when Georgetown would fall.

After waiting outside for several minutes the men heard a quick knock on the door. The guards moved aside, the doors swung open, and Smith and Ailes were gestured to enter. They walked in slowly and found a small gathering of men by the far wall, a visible cloud of smoke hanging over the men's heads.

As Smith and Ailes approached they both stopped and bowed, "Your Majesty," they offered.

"Come, come, gentlemen, thank you for waiting." King Adriaan stood in a clean, black suit with an orange tie standing out against his white shirt. He stood tall at five feet, ten inches and had an angled jaw, bright blue eyes and a head topped with shortly cut brown hair.

Adriaan of the House of Barents acceded to the throne only two years earlier, in August 1940 after the early death of his father, King Willem II. At 22, Adriaan was the youngest monarch in the short history of Celaria—he was but the third monarch. He had only just graduated from the Royal Naval Academy and been commissioned a lieutenant in the Royal Navy when his father had died. His tour of duty aboard the HMS Azazia had been cut short, rather fortuitously as recent events had shown, and he returned to Asbury Palace.

Bernard Grammerson, President of Celaria, stood beside King Adriaan along with several of Adriaan's personal advisors, both political and military. Smith nodded politely to Grammerson and then took to a place before Adriaan.

"Are you aware of why I summoned you, Mr. Smith?" Adriaan asked.

"Fairly certain, Your Majesty."

"Mr. Grammerson informed me this morning that last night the city of Aviz was savagely bombed with dozens of civilian casualties. However, the aircraft that conducted the raid did not," the king paused and looked towards his military advisors, "come from the west and known Japanese-controlled airfields, but rather from the east. From RAF Koenrak." Adriaan paused again. "These were Celarian bombers, Mr. Prime Minister. And President Grammerson claims to know nothing about any such mission where Celarians bombed fellow Celarians."

Smith nodded. "You are correct, Your Majesty. Last evening, 12 Hampden bombers departed RAF Koenrak under my orders to strike industrial and transport targets in and around Aviz. I had received intelligence from military sources that the Japanese were planning on taking Aviz after capturing Sagres. And if they captured the rail routes in and around Aviz, Sire, by next weekend, the Japanese would surely have taken Porto Viseu and possibly Beleza. The remainder of our ground forces had already abandoned Aviz to more defensible positions, but, given the abilities—or lack there of—of our army in the field, I doubt how well those lines could have held with Japanese supply lines intact."

Adriaan stood silent and glanced harshly at Grammerson. After a moment, he turned his back to the group and walked several paces away, motioning for his military advisors to follow. That group chatted for several minutes while Smith, Ailes, Grammerson, and the others stood in silence. Finally, the king returned to the civilian leaders with his officers in tow.

"Mr. Prime Minister," Adriaan asked, looking squarely at Smith, "am I not the commander-in-chief of the armed forces of Celaria?"

"You are, Your Majesty."

"Than please explain how it is that you ordered a military mission wherein we deliberately bombed our own people."

Smith nodded. "You are the commander-in-chief, Your Majesty. However, Your Majesty's armed forces do not come without costs and it is Parliament that authorises the expenditures necessary to pay for those costs from Your Majesty's Treasury. Such an action to defend Crown and Country was deemed the only acceptable use of Treasury funds."

"That may well be," Adriaan replied, "but, is it not President Grammerson's role to direct you as My Government in how to disperse those funds?"

"Sire, Bernard directs Parliament as a boy follows his mastiff. Parliament is loyal to Your Majesty, but obeys the wishes of the people—not Mr. Grammerson." Smith refrained from smiling, but paused to let the comment sink in before continuing. "Your Majesty, if the Japanese take Porto Viseu and Beleza they can take the remainder of the island. And if they take the island, they gain suitable anchorages where they can base battleships and carriers. And that puts Regendal and then New Britain at risk."

"And I daresay," Smith continued, "even with this scorched earth policy, I still habour doubts that our armed forces can defend Reynstia." With the exception of Ailes, the military men in the room scoffed aloud. Adriaan held up his hand to silence them all. "I doubt not that our boys have the courage, Sire, but that they have the equipment, the training, and the leadership to defeat this battle-tested and -hardened Japanese army."

"You desire total war, Prime Minister," the king asked cautiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty. After conferring with Brigadier Ailes and several naval officers, I believe that our best chance to win this war is to delay and stall the Japanese advance. We cannot yet beat them on the field. We cannot yet shoot down their planes. We cannot yet sink their ships. We have tried and failed in each of those battles. But if we can last another year, we can train our boys and rebuild the army, the navy, and the air force. We can cut off the Japanese from their overseas supply line. And by burning our own lands they shall have nothing left on which to survive here on our own islands. We can fight them in our skies, fight them on our seas, and fight them on our land, strangle them and bring them to their knees."

"An ambitious plan, Mr. Prime Minister," the king replied, again speaking slowly and measuredly. "But we will lose much in this year."

"We will, Your Majesty," Smith conceded. "Though our independence be recently gained, and our own history be brief, this coming year will be forever remembered as our time of trial and tribulation. Yet we shall be the anvil that breaks Japan. We shall see the red sun sink into the sea. We shall watch the chrysanthemum wilt and wither on its choking vine. We shall prevail by the providence of God and the strength of man, Your Majesty. Of that I have no doubt."

The king stood silent. "Nor do I, Mr. Smith. But take heed, I wish not to see my people harmed in so brazen a fashion again. You may well obey the wishes of the people, but the people may not be so willing to mutilate themselves for the duration of this war."

"Very good, Your Majesty."

"Continue your work, Mr. Smith. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."