The Second American Civil War [IC | PT | OPEN]

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

The Second American Civil War

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America is the land of plenty and liberty.

Now it is neither.

In the twilight of 1951, America is a rotting corpse. Beset on all sides by hostile nations and weak allies. The once prosperous states of the Midwest are now decimated following the aftermath of the third great dustbowl and the second Canadian and Mexican war. The jobless farmers fled into the cities of east and west coast causing the economy to crash and trigger another Great Depression. Poor stagger down the streets begging for cash for their children only to be ignored by the apathetic crowd. The states of the Great Lakes suffer from the worst of capitalism. Any social progress made after the industrial revolution no longer exists here. Workers face the most dangerous of jobs and twelve hour work days for only a few pennies to survive on. Once used up the workers have their property confiscated and they themselves are cast into eternal poverty.

The Second Canadian war has destroyed much of New England the third Mexican war has ended in utter failure for America. Despite marching into Ottawa and Mexico city the US had lost too much. In both wars, a year apart, a million young men have died and millions come home to a nation they cannot recognize anymore. The most extreme of the political parties felt their ranks swell as a massive economic war engulfed the world. Stocks dropped overnight and hundreds of Companys collapsed releasing hundreds of thousand employees into the wild. Beggars flooded the streets and calamitous poverty gripped the land of liberty.

During the second Weltkreig America remained neutral as France and the Kaiserreich battled each other in Africa, Europe, and Indochina. Despite the pleas of calls from its ally, the Kaiserreich, it ignored instead they turned their influence to China and Japan. It ended in disaster as the two nations banded together and smashed an American merchant fleet as it entered Korea.

All this while the Government did nothing. Locked in endless debates, councils, communities, and petty political rivery the once efficient government of the United States had come to a grinding stop. Desperate to prevent new and radical parties to usurp their position of dominance the biggest political parties dabbled in election fraud ensuring that their candidates got put in lofty positions. This had been going on ever since the founding of America but so blatant this time that the public was enraged.

The cutting point of all this tension was the 1952 elections. Three parties emerged to dominance. One was the politician Huey Long of the National Socliast which promised a strong central government and to root out the corruption of Washington. He received heavy support of the nationalist of the south and midwest. The next was Bob Reed of the Communist party who promised rights for the workers of the Rustbelt and Socialist policies to improve the lives of the poor. The third was James Phillips of the Christian Democrat Party who promised reforms for the midwest and east coast. He is barely popular and only secures popularity from the West coast promising special economic rights.

Riots and shootings now engulf the nation as the elections begin. The national guard is overwhelmed by violence and there appears to a rivalry between the south and northern states. To the east, the farmers and Liberal states feel more detached and separated from Washingtons and the poverty gripping the nation. Militias sprout up in the countryside and terrorize people into the vote. They have come into combat with America's armed forces and have declared war on the government. Rumors of succession float about in the least federalized states away from the prying eyes of Washington and anger is at the government is at an all-time high.

America is on a collision course that will define the world's future.

---

Scott Robertson sat on his couch lighting himself a cigarette watching the radio in the corner announce the result of the elections. It had been a while since the vote of the first state, Wyoming, and it was clear that Mr. Long was winning. Already in the streets, there were celebrations. Scott had declined the invitation of his friends to go to the bar to celebrate a new America. It was still too soon and Scott refused to count his chickens so soon in the race. He listened as state after state cast in their vote with both hope and despair.

"Michigan has voted for the new Socialist party."

"Louisana has voted for the National Socliast party!"

"Unsurprisingly California, Washington, and Oregon have voted for the Christian Democrat Party."

"Pennsylvania has been claimed by the new Socialist party in a close race with the Christian Democrat Party."

"Florida has announced their vote for the National Socliast party" The moment that announcement came on the speaker the whole street erupted into cheers. Distant fireworks could be heard and people celebrated in the backyards as the sunset. The National Socliast party has won the Electoral College!

Scott cheered silently as he extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray. There was a knock at the door and as Scott opened it his friends were crowded around and George asked "Now?"

"Of course give me a second." Scott closed the door and reopened it a minute later holding a box with his arm. His friends saw what was inscribed on the cover of the box and erupted in cheers. Scott asked, "Cuban?"

A few hours later Scott and the gang found themselves at a crowded bar with cigars in their mouths and fine brandy on the table. Bob, a police officer, shouted in order to be heard over the sounds of celebration, "Looks at us boys! Smoking Cubans and sipping fine brandy. Sure is the celebration."

The whole group nodded or grunted in approval. Just as it seemed that it was going to be the best night ever a group of cops walked in through the door of the bar. Everyone stopped their chit chat and songs and stared at the officers. One blue stepped forward to the bar and said, "Get me and the buddies a round of shots. I'm paying."

The whole bar erupted into noise again and Scott took a very long puff of the cigar in his mouth. This was certainly one of the best days of his life.

---

MacArthur had gone to bed early and knew he would wake up to a nation he no longer recognized. This had happened before, it had happened when he was woken up by his Chauffeur that he had reached the Mexican-American border. MacArthur had watched America decay and succumb to the allure by the evil forces of socialism that threatened America. He no longer knew what to do except place hope in Washington that maybe soon America would one day return to her glory days. That was over a year ago and things seemed to have gotten worse. As the family began to move abroad to avoid poverty and his grand army rot the only single thing that seemed would remain intact was the corruption of Washington.

As he placed his head on the pillow he prayed silently, so as not to wake up Jean, to the almighty lord above that whoever won could bring his grand nation back from the brink and show it the glories of old.

---

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

MacArthur found himself sitting in the waiting room of the white house. He had only stepped in here once but that was so very long ago. MacArthur tried to conjure up the memories of his time in Washington but he could only remember that bitter Force Public School he studied at when his family had first moved from the Midwest. He could still remember being shoved into the locker room to endure punch after punch. He never knew why they did that and MacArthur to this day could still not understand why they did that. Perhaps it was because he had been seen talking to them, as the bullies called them, "Niggers" outside school?

Perhaps he would never know and as MacArthur struggled to bring back happier memories the intercom on the assistance desk. MacArthur was too far away to hear what was said over the crackly speaker but he knew what it had said. The assistant looked at MacArthur and then and a clipboard in his hand.

"The president will see you now." The assistant said in a flat and emotionless voice that you could only get from endless bureaucracy. MacArthur took off his signature hat and tucked it under his shoulder as he knocked on the white door.

"Come in." Said a strong southern accent. MacArthur took a deep breath and opened the door. Heuy Long was sitting at the desk of the most powerful man in America and he was... reading the latest edition of buck rogers. The president noticed MacArthur staring at the comic book and put it down on the table right next to several documents he had to review and sign. He smiled sheepishly and said, "What the president can't take a break from all this."

"You're right, sir" MacArthur could somewhat agree. He had always taken an hour from his day to spend time with his family at the fort or at the very least go outside and smoke his signature pipe. But still... he was here to meet the president, "Sir, you called me from my fort. I must assume that you have called me to reform the army."

"Yes, that's true General, I-" Huey said as he took a long sip of water from a glass cup on his desk. "I'm sorry, anyway I need your advice on forming a militia."

"A militia?"

"Yes, you saw the violence in Kentucky between the south and the north. National Gaurd's killed in the street and it took days for martial law to be enforced in the capital and even more days for the army to arrive in the area." MacArthur mentally flinched. He was in charge of leading the troops to Kentucky but had to contend with severe supply and funding shortages. In his own nation nonetheless! MacArthur knew that this was a clear and cut jab by Long. He continued, "Now Militias controlled by the central government can quickly respond to such incidents were the local national guard garrisons cannot take care of whatever situation. The Militias can supplement the garrisons in defending their nation. Of course, they have the authority to enact the word of law unlike the army so there will be no need to call for martial law."

"Sir, my best advice would be not to establish a militia but instead improve training for police officers and make logistics and transportation for the army in this nation."

"And deny the people the right to organize a defense?"

"No, deny the government supplying weapons to possible rebels."

"Rebels? You speak as if we are in a civil war, General."

"We soon will be. Have you not heard the news! The Communist party refuses to refuse the results of the election as a majority voted for them. Not enough to win the electoral college of course but parts of the government of Michigan refuse to listen to you!"

"Then I will support people loyal to me and they will enforce the rule of Washington." MacArthur was taken aback by this. Huey was no longer speaking about the nation but himself. His supporters could be legally armed and attack and intimidate Long's opposition off the books. This was the first step to dictatorship.

"I cannot agree with what is clearly your attempt to create a paramilitary unit for and only you and your party!"

"General! I only wish to protect the people by allowing them to protect themselves!"

"And you're doing that by arming your own party will heavy guns!"

"If you continue to argue in my room then leave! I will bring America to her former glory with or without you."

"You will be a dictator and king of old if you continue down this part. This is exactly with the United States was formed. To provide sanctuary to the disillusioned and meek. To protect the idealist and the cynical. To protect the ideas and values of freedom and democracy and I swore on my very oath to protect the nation and her values from foes within."

"I wish to do the same as well MacArthur but in a different way. I must have the power to bring our nation from the brink and show it the glories of old. I must sacrifice some freedom to secure our future and the safety of our people!" MacArthur now realized his prayer that night was so perverted by this... dictator. That his dreams could be achieved but at what cost? MacArthur had sworn an oath and sworn to protect that oath at whatever cost. He had sworn to protect America, her states, her people, and, most importantly, the ideals which it stood for. He could not accept it...

"I will not work with you, Long. If you cannot step off this path then you shall have my resignation." MacArthur began to walk to the door when long spoke,

"Where is your allegiance then?" MacArthur opened the door but he looked back and only said,

"My allegiance is the Republic, Long, to democracy!" With that MacArthur slammed the door behind him...

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Maynila
The Commonwealth of the Philippines
1951

---

Another quiet morning was welcomed by the loud steamships rolling upon Maynila's ports, exporting all sorts of oriental goods. The winds howled past the informal sector, begging for the mercy of American pockets behind shady backstreet alleys and on main highways of the slowly developing nation. The horn-honking of American-produced cars, the static radio awarded to the privileged, and TV sets dumped as surplus-- commodities which were the envy of a starving native masses. The scorching tropical heat continued its reign over unproductive paddies, undeveloped crevices of a puppet-regime, while wealthy industrialists and old Spanish loyalists dined on the surplus of vegetables and fruit. Vegetables and fruits which could sate foreign bellies alone.

Which is why newspaper and newsreel footage of leftist rebels stirring insurrection from the countryside was no surprise to the few who had a good grasp of education; radical nationalists and middle-class Ilustrados (literati) alike, who remained paralyzed from their acacia-wood rocking-chairs. Liberalists, syndicalists, communists; all sorts of political folk composed those who were provided-for. But these ideas were seldom propagated, shamed by believers in the American cause, as they had been worshiped for generations since the dawn of the century. For vernacular conservatives, the Americans were peacekeepers.

Today began with the concession of church bells and early-morning prayers, as had been done in the olden days. And of course, one could not miss, the singing of the national anthem daily, Chosen Land, in English; which continued to be a reminder of the servile attitude of such aforementioned vernacular thinkers. To that world which seemed distant for the revolutionary peasantry; the Commonwealth under Elpidio Quirino, a goon of the machine, was the most liberty the Filipino people had ever seen, and would ever see.

But the U.S governance over the islands was evident. Time and time again, full independence had been promised. And although elections were free, the U.S Department of Insular Affairs stood behind the nation's course like a giant shadow, a foreign pilot of a people long-enslaved. A people enslaved since the untimely downfall of the First Philippine Republic, the first democracy in Asia murdered by the land of opportunity. The right for Filipinos to govern themselves, in reality, had been abolished 51 years ago.

That was the Philippines unto which a golden sun had dawned upon. But one man promised it would set very, very quickly.

[The Chuck]

Late 1940s / Early 1950s - Missouri Ozarks, Central United States of America - Daniel Sullivan

As the US had been repeatedly hammered and pounded since the turn of the century by misfortune and bad luck, many military veterans and civilians of the American Midwest started to grow disgruntled by the bureaucratic politicians in Washington. Many citizens realized that the politicians were trying to do what was best for America in such a crisis but unfortunately, they couldn't get accurate information about the regions across the United States since they were mainly in D.C. As such, in the heartland of America which had been ravaged by the dust storms of the decades prior and the Canadian invasion, movements was growing.

These movement did not officially have a name yet. But it was comprised of citizens who wanted to do what was best for themselves and their local communities. As the US was repeatedly snubbed and the politicians repeatedly failed to create improvements, the signs of fracture were starting to show. In some states, there were riots in the streets and criminal antics. As other citizens observed this, some attempted to form groups to combat the lawlessness while also affording assistance to the local communities. One such citizen was Daniel Sullivan.

---

Daniel Sullivan was a sniper veteran of the venerated 1st Marines Division who had left the service and returned to his humble home near Ava Missouri some years prior. As the US government had started to decline and lawlessness had started to spread, he had contacted local friends and started to establish a local militia to help defend and assist the communities of the American Ozarks. Word started to spread through the Ozark mountains of this group and people from far and wide started to join up to assist. Whenever lawless bandits would attempt to come through and harass the backwater towns of southern Missouri and northern Arkansas, a group of these volunteer militia members would be at the town ready to meet the raiders with rifles and bullets. Along with defending towns, the militia started to assist poor families that were down on their luck. When farmers were going to loose their farms to the banks, many members would attempt to raise the funds to help save the small farms and as time went on, certain local banks were starting to sway to the influence of the militia members. As influence had spread, influential people started to hear about the militia group. One such man was Albert L. Reeves Jr., one of the U.S. Representatives for Missouri from Steelville Missouri.

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Scott Robertson hung his hat on the coat rack as he closed the door behind him. He slumped into his couch pouring himself a cup of brandy. Those things will kill you, said his mother and Scott did nothing but laugh. Today had just been exhausting. First was his day job then his evening shift in the Minutemen. Twelve hours of bloody work but it would prove it's value in the future. Scott finished the cup with one more gulp. He decided to listen to the radio before ending the night. He listened as the news flowed in from all around the world.

"Unrest in the Philippines!" Really nothing new. Those ungrateful bastards.

"MacArthur speaks against Long!" This caught Scott's attention. He never liked MacArthur, that pompous, paranoid man with no respect for the office of president. The radio continued, "We now have an exclusive interview with the general. Now Mr. Douglas, why do you feel at odds with the president."

"He... the president thinks he is a god. Thinks that America exists for him when the opposite is true. He wants to model the state after the image he wants and not what is needed. He expects that a simple solution can easily solve a complex problem! "

"Very interesting Mr. MacArth-"

The radio stopped emitting the interview and a shrill wail came from it. The blaring of a horn then came through and the familiar voice of the local minuteman commander came through, "All Minutemen are to mobilize and reinforce police officers at the town hall. Further orders will be given there. At a minute notice!"

Scott jumped out of his armchair grabbing his coat off the rack. He burst through the door to see any doing the same. Some wield rifles, pistols, and sometimes just a knife tied to the end of a broom handle. They began running down the pavement as distant fires could be seen. Scott reached into his coat pocket drawing out his .38 snub revolver. As he ran down the pavement he could hear distant shouts and gunshots.

What the hell was going on?

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Formosa
Illegal Publications Office
Classified Address

---

"Mr. Ramos.", called a young female secretary from a short doorway, no less than 17 years of age, a Filipina-Sangley woman wearing an American typist's uniform to a senile politician in a Barong Tagalog and black pants on an acacia chair; a man who seemed lost in thought, gazing beyond his window, brooding. His attention was suddenly caught, and his ears re-focused their attention from the mellow sound of crashing Formosan waves to the soft-spoken annunciation of the secretary.

"Yes, Ysabel?", responded he, turning his chair towards the Secretary, in respect.

"The pamphlets are ready to ship to Aparri."

"Good, good. Then the plot is in motion."

Benigno Ramos picked up a cane lying beneath his chair, and a Don's hat from his bedside drawer. He walked out of the room, towards an internal balcony, which overlooked the entirety of the revolutionary press he had set-up. Guards from below stood in attention. The sound of bustling machines, a rhythm of pushing and pulling, releasing stacks upon stacks of Sakdal copies grinded to a halt. As the laborers below finished loading them unto three different trucks parked outside the press, Benigno Ramos, father of the Sakdalista Movement, began to speak in a deep, attuned voice. He spoke in his native tongue, Tagalog.

"Countrymen, hear hear. Our hardships here shall not go in vain."

He held-up a copy of the newly-printed papers, continuing.

"This paper shall be the signaling ember which will light the flames of revolution. We have spent years shipping these to the U.S, and smuggling them into Maynila, arguing over petty politics, begging for the least bit of political scraps Washington could spare, kneeling for American corporations to halt their exploitation of our people and of our resources. That ends today.

Today, we take the fight home! Today, we plant the seeds for our sovereignty. Today, we hereby purify the American infestation of our lands, and our people's minds."

By now, Benigno's fist was raised high up. The workers below saluted him. One cry, Salve Patria! resonated from the mouths of a hundred disgruntled revolutionaries.

On the paper was Benigno's pen-name: Ben Reuben. The paper itself read in bold, as its front-page headline:

REVOLUTION IN INFANCY; CAGAYANOS, CHRISTEN IT WITH BLOOD!

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Aparri
Province of Cagayan
The Commonwealth of the Philippines

---

“Give me ten thousand Filipino soldiers and I will conquer the world.”
- Gen. Douglas Macarthur

A line of militiamen stood in attention, called one-by-one by a tall Sergeant, to step forward when their names were called. In the blazing heat under the tropic sun, each man was resilient. Nevertheless, they were used to it.

The revolutionaries partially had uniforms, which sort of in itself contradicted the purpose of uniformity. This was one of the symptoms of a semi-stable military funding; secured by an educated middle-class, supported by the peasantry. Many remained using the old Rayadillo standard, the first uniform of the Republic. Some were clothed in the second uniform produced for the First Philippine Republic, a navy blue attire with abaca hats. Others, less fortunate, mostly the farmers; were equipped solely with their white shirts and red pants. These were ancient attires, and the red had faded into a rather pacifistic pink.

Aparri was rather arid at this time of the year, and provincially, the crops were experiencing a minor drought. But this was little to no concern in the Northern town. The Cagayanos, the people of Cagayan, were quite peaceful people. Never had they truly seen much conflict, nor seen weapons of war aside from the occasional American ironclad which would pass by each and every once in a while to make fun of the natives and intimidate traders for supplies on their voyage.

However, these were not Cagayanos alone who had congregated to salute the flag of the old Philippine revolution. These were nationalists from all over the country, mostly aristocrats and their sons; sore losers of the Philippine-American War. Veterans, veterans' sons, their daughters, their mothers, their fathers; the minuscule might of the Hukbong Makabayan had assembled here in secret, along with other rebellious citizens of the province and of the village. But then again, to Philippine history books of the era, it was not even called a war. It was merely known as the 'Philippine Insurrection'. Insurrection against the imperial forces which lurk-- that is why such a diverse people had banded together. And the imperial impedimenta which gorged itself upon the archipelago's resources was now choking on their own delights.

Aparri's ports were small, and its geography harsh. But it was secluded, lowly populated, and was home to a dimwitted illiterate class of society. If it was small enough for the Commonwealth to ignore economically, perhaps they would be as lenient should minor 'incidents' be conducted, unregistered ships land, and a few supplies stores vanish from government record.

Fortunately for the Nationalists, the coin was, to some extent, on their side. The Nationalist revolution was not only that of a peasant's army, it was an armada of industrialists and government employees. Of ex-military men and employed military men, the army was a pack of wolves hiding in the shadows. Thus, where native bolos cut trees, the steel was re-crafted to create sharp bayonets. Modern weaponry smuggled from China and Japan appeared at the feet of commanders still upset over the failures of the First Philippine Republic. Yet, it seemed, a new Republic began to rise.

The Sergeant brandished a submachine gun, an old Qingdao C96, rare in its own right, and miraculously still functioning. Walking back and forth amongst the ranks, five more soldiers remained uncalled for the roll-call. Those five were among a secluded few, those in complete gear.

"Sarmiento?"

"That's me, sir.", replied a young man, no less than 16 years of age. He had more Hispanic features than the rest.

"Sacramento?"

"Ready, sir.", replied another young man, a little older than the last, in his 30s. He stood in calm respect.

"Ruiz?"

"Yes, sir!", responded a 5'9 sniper from an old urban family. He was one of the contingent's snipers.

"Innocencio?"

"Ah-", interjected an old veteran, of the legendary 'Kawit Battalion', that had disbanded upon the fall of the first republic.

"And, Chua?"

"Ready.", was the swift retort of a middle-aged Sangley.

They and their fellow soldiers were commanded at-ease. They were a company of at least a hundred men, who had all smuggled themselves throughout the course of a month, under different guises to dissuade the Commonwealth government. The glint of their rifle's bayonets shimmered under the cloudless Filipino sky.

"Men of the 1st Tagalog Infantry Company," bellowed the Sergeant with pride.

"I am Sarhento (Sargeant) Felipe Banaue. Many of you know me as 'Sarhento Tiradores' (Sergeant Bullsye). Allow me to address that. Yes, it is true. I was a sniper at the Battle of Manila. If we succeed, I aim to be one again.

As you know, this morning, we were given the honor of being called-to-arms to initiate the return of our Supremo, Don Benigno Ramos.

You have all received a copy of the latest issue of Sakdal. I shall not reiterate what already has been said. Our orders are to secure the Superemo's landing here in Aparri. We have 48 hours to secure two dockyards in the middle of Cagayan's sealine border. The attack has been planned insofar as it will take another 48 hours, possibly, if Americans are informed immeadiately of our attack, to mobilize their fleet from the gulfs of Lingayen and Leyte.

However, we are to ensure no such thing shall happen. We will secure these ports in the time allotted to us, taking no prisoners, and the Supremo's landing will have been conducted faster than the news can reach the Americans. Understood?

Comrades, the revolution is coming home once more. Hurrah!"

[Pan-Asiatic States]

Aparri
Province of Cagayan
The Commonwealth of the Philippines

---

The Commonwealth's bulk army was scarce present in the rural North. The biggest threat to securing the region was the Philippine Constabulary. But the gendarmerie was very well-armed, well-funded, and well-trained. They were specialists who had trained under the direct command of the American government, who now lick the boots of the new-colonialist kings of Manila. Meanwhile, the rebels were highly disorganized, but highly motivated. Mass charges in large numbers terrified local outposts.

The 1st was not concerned with taking the entire region, however, as early as the first five hours, the city of Aparri was quietly sabotaged by the movement. American nationals were arrested, and communication lines were cut. Albeit one message was sent to the capital before the region went dark. A telegram that read "PEASANT INSURRECTION IN APARRI, POSSIBLE COMMUNISTS, REINFORCEMENTS NOT REQUIRED."

The thunder of bamboo cannons roared. The company was divided into three groups. One to take the Northern part of the village, one to take the Southern part of the village and ensure word is not passed beyond the South, and one to take the Western part of the village which cuts-off Aparri from the main road leading to Pagudpud; the Western contingent partly commanded to garrison the central districts as well.

Sarmiento, Sacramento, Ruiz, Innocencio, and Chua were grouped into a special scouting squad for the Western contingent. Upon taking the village itself, the revolutionaries were cheered upon, and for lunch, a fiesta was held in their honor. Casualties began to mount soon after, in the evening, when raids on ammunition stores proved pyrrhic victories.

[Mersdon]

The State of the Union, 1951, in Images
(with more to follow)

Although aviation in Puerto Rico had been historically restricted to the moneyed classes and the all-powerful coffee barons for decades, the advent of plentiful and cheap gasoline, large wage increases, and a largely mainlander-driven tourist and emigration boom made air travel attainable for the masses for the first time. Here, a Pan American purser and three stewardesses inspect an American Airines DC-6 at the Isla Grande International Airport, in April 1951.

To a large extent, America's wealthy, privileged elite still held the levers of power. While the average Puerto Rican did get a say in how the country was run for the first time in the 1950 elections, the Criollo and Anglo-American elite were exempt from many taxes, conscription, and often took advantage of their social and financial standing to influence politics on a national scale. Here, the aging President Olson and his cabinet rub elbows with the crème de la crème of Puerto Rican society at the Bayamón Club, San Juan's most exclusive establishment, on New Year's Eve, 1950.

As educational drives across the country reached their apex, more and more Puerto Ricans became literate in English; however, many formerly illiterate people had to contend with speaking but not writing Spanish, and being able to read and write but not speak English. This contributed to two somewhat parallel identities on the island: one was distinctly Afro-Hispanic, while the other was an Americanized blend of Latin American and Anglo-Saxon culture. Here, a fresh edition of Life magazine, freshly printed and shipped out from San Juan, is shown, circa January 1951.

A sign of the times: The SS United States, the pride of the San Juan-based America Lines, sets course for New York for the first time in this postcard. Again, although mostly the preserve of the rich, more and more newly-minted middle class families were setting sail or flying to far-off locales to spend their money. This sudden increase in disposable cash was a major stimulant for the Puerto Rican economy, and helped to resurrect the country's travel and tourism industry. The company and the government (which loaned a sizable sum to America Lines) soon recouped their losses due to massive demand from the Mainland, Cuba, the Caribbean, and Northern Europe for tickets to the United States. All in all, it was estimated by the Department of the Treasury that the construction, crewing, maintenance, and operation of the SS United States and its sister ship, the SS America created over 5,000 new jobs for the island of Puerto Rico alone. The same estimate states that they also contributed $38,000,000 to the economy, or a staggering 35% of the United States' output for the entire year!

"There is a popular cry among Americans, exile and native, Anglo and not, whenever a religious or political holiday occurs -
'Next year- in Washington!' in remembrance of their unwilling exile- and, surely, that will ring true. After all, hell hath no fury like a Puerto Rican scorned."
-Seymour Hersh, a journalist for the Havana Evening Standard

[Deutschess Kaiserreich]

Scott ran down the streets with the others. The crackle of the flames could now be heard as they transitioned from their suburbs to the town proper. The shops beside them were now rolling down the iron bars and the shopkeeper fleeing from the chaos. However, some emerged brandishing weapons. Some with guns and others with just butcher knives. They slowed down to a walk. The town hall would just be around this blo-

Then a gunshot filled the air again and the crowd minutemen, around fifty strong, flinched for a moment before continuing on again. They turned the corner to see a massive bonfire at the steps of the town hall. Chairs, paintings, documents, and the American flag had been used as tinder. A massive crowd had gathered around the bonfire while a dozen stood on the steps of city fall lobbing firebombs at the brick wall. The Minutemen gathered and someone from their ranks shouted, "YOU ARE TO DISPERSE AT ONCE!"

The crowd appeared not to notice so Scott pointed his revolver into the air and fired. There was a moment of silence as the rioters turned around. Then they began to yell again. Scott fired again into the air before shouting, "You are disrupting the peace and damaging public property you are to disperse at once in a peaceful manner. Either way, you will be dispersed!"

The rioters had now begun to throw stones at the Minutemen. The rioters were ow throwing burning pieces of wood and firebombs. A minuteman dropped to the ground screaming as flames engulfed him. His comrades fell upon him like eagles taking off their jackets and emptying their water canteens on him. The Minutemen refused to fire but their weapons were aimed. There had to be a breaking point and it came...

Bob felt the door buckle again and the women on his side cry out in fear. Again and again, the door buckled but the officer within held. This was supposed to be a routine patrol and had spiraled out of control. Bob had shot a man but he was threatening him with a knife. It was clear as day that is was self-defense but the crowd outside didn't see it that way. A cry came from the wrong side of the door and Bob knew who it was. The local commie troublemaker, Mike Green. He was supposed to be in the brig right now. How the hell did he get out?

"Death to the capitalist pigs! Remember our fallen brother." Bob swore. This was getting worse than it needed to be. He looked at his revolver hanging loosely at his belt and wondered if they could make it...

Thomas Blackburn ran along the dark rooftop carrying a long rod in his hand. Below him, the fires of revolution burned the old ways away. He looked down a huge crowd of men had turned the corner and entered the town square. He couldn't see much in the dark but Thomas swore that they were holding guns. He didn't care much for them though. More comrades to join the revolution against the ruling classes of Washington! He was getting closer to the pole where the flag of this long dead rotting nation flew. From his side, he drew a long machete slashing away the rope holding the flag to the pole. In the strong wind of this Friday night, the flag flew into the darkness and a new one was hoisted onto the post. In the light of the flames below it could clearly be seen. A red background, to symbolize the blood of the common workers. A golden hammer for the workers of the north and the golden sickle for the farmers of the south. Proudly Thomas stood next to this flag. The revolution was upon them. They would sweep across America from this little sleepy southern town and bring freedom to the workers. Glory was upon the- But as Thomas congratulated himself on being the spark that lit the fire of revolution he felt like his chest was punched by a boxer. His breath escaped from his mouth and he could not take in any air. He looked at his chest to see his white shirt bloom like a flower in red. His feet felt unsteady and off the windy rooftop of the town hall, he fell. His body broke on the steps that led to the broken doors of the town hall in front of the rioters to see. In anger, they charged...

They never stood a chance. They were against men with guns.