Workers of the World, Unite! [IC/AH/OPEN]

by **The V O I D** » Thu Jun 02, 2022 8:46 pm

WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!

OOC || IC [You Are Here] || MAP

Discord

Assembly Hall of the People's Congress of the American Union State
Columbia City, Capitol District
American Union State
January 1, 1960

Danielle Rochester stood at the Executive Committee Chair Podium, and it was at this moment that she felt somewhat melancholy, for this was the last time she would be hosting the First Meeting of the Year for the People's Congress. Nonetheless, it had been an honor to serve, and she felt that she and her allies had managed much in the last decade. The Fascist Purge, while some might have called extreme, was a necessary step for the progress of the people and workers of America.

Briefly glancing about the Assembly Hall - formerly the Capitol Building, it had been rebuilt and renovated over the years, completed in 1945 - she noted that everyone was seated. As usual, the First Meeting would be broadcast across the nation, whether by radio or television. Things quieted down, after a moment, now that everyone was seated and the broadcast was to begin.

“Good Morning, Honored Representatives of the People's Congress and to my fellow Americans,” Danielle began, “today is a very important day. For it not only begins the new year, but begins the Fortieth Year of our Union State that our fathers and grandfathers fought and bled for. It also means that our next national elections for the next Honored Representatives to serve you, the American people and workers, in this august body of the People's Congress are to begin in November.”

Danielle smiled as there was a brief moment of polite applause from the Representatives at that. After the applause ended, she took a breath.

“I would like to take this moment to praise the efforts of this body and my fellows among the Committees that serve it for another year of service, and to congratulate specifically President Joseph McCarthy of the Judiciary Committee for his tireless efforts to rid this great nation of those who would taint the ideals of the Revolution with blatant fascism and bringing an end to the despicable racist policies that had been unfortunately allowed to survive after the Revolution. In the last ten years, the various Districts in the South have been purged of these fascist elements as and the rest of our Districts revitalized to ensure that all people and workers of this nation, regardless of their race or sex, shall truly enjoy the progress that the Revolution brought forth for us all,” the Chairwoman continued, “as well as a thanks to President Lyndon Johnson of the Legislative Committee for his own efforts to ensure that the laws of this nation truly reflect the Revolutionary Constitution, and that there would be no room for fascist ideology to propagate disguised as our own Revolutionary ideals. It has been a great honor working with both of these fine men, and an even greater honor to serve the People as I have. But now that my term is at an end, I hope to finish this great work, so that the next men and women who serve in the People's Congress shall have a clear path forwards to lead the nation they shall serve.”

Danielle was more prepared for this applause, as it was slightly louder, and Presidents McCarthy and Johnson took their applause as well, briefly taking a moment to thank the Chairwoman for her kind words.

“Of course, the next order of business shall be the presentation of the Economic and Legislative Committees' initial year-plans based on this past year and current events,” Danielle said once things quieted down once again, “followed by hearing proposals from the Representatives of the People's Congress and ending with a summary review, which shall eventually be printed out and delivered by way of Newspaper for the public to review. I will now hand things off to President John Whitaker of the Economic Committee for his deliver of this year's plan for your consideration...”

After the First Meeting of the People's Congress concluded, the Foreign Affairs Office of the Executive Committee sent out a message to the member states of PANPACT's own Foreign Affairs Offices.

by **Mets Hayk** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 3:38 am

Karelian Hall, Vrana Palace
Sofia, Sofia Oblast
Tsardom of Bulgaria
01 January 1960

Twas a new year, and all of Bulgaria anticipated something special, something new from the Tsar; as it WAS the start of a new decade, after all. Enter Simeon II, Tsar of Bulgaria; donning his ceremonial garb and accompanied by his (albeit elderly) uncle; Kiril, Prince of Preslav, and Konstantin Muraviev, his Prime Minister. Stepping up to the podium, the young Tsar began his speech; reading aloud from a sheet of paper that lay in front of him:

"Gentlemen, dear friends, Bulgarians; I thank you for attending this most wonderful annual event, and I thank each of you for taking time out of YOUR day to listen to MY words. In trying times such as these, it's always best that there's a sense of...mutual trust between you, the great people of Bulgaria, and I; your Tsar. Now, let us begin; shall we?"

Clearing his throat, Simeon continued.

"Gentlemen, what is this horrid world we have found ourselves in? Perhaps it is anarchy; perhaps it is hell itself, and yet; as my father did before me, I shall continue my duties to defend EACH of you from the horrors of the iron curtain that has descended over the continent. I know these are...indeed some of the darkest days in European history, more so than even the Ottoman menace that had plagued us for many a century; and alas, many of whom we call enemies were once our friends...France, Scandinavia, and to an extent; Britain, no longer carry their pride! No, instead they have submitted to the foolishness that has befallen much of the world."

He flipped the page.

"I hope that nineteen-sixty, more so than any year in the nineteen-fifties, proves itself to be a year of progress for our great nation. One where no longer must we fight over Southern Dobrudja, Vardar Macedonia, the Belomorie, and the Pomoravie; no, for now on we shall fight for but two things: the conservation of our great nation's sovereignty, and the ensured future of the monarchy! In a few days I will meet with my Yugoslav and Romanian counterparts as we discuss...strategies to end this nightmare; lest we tear ourselves apart in this most violent of times. So, gentlemen; with that, I leave you. Remember, with you is Bulgaria, in front of you is Bulgaria; and behind you is BULGARIA!"

Simeon exits; as does his two compatriots; as a sea of cheering and questions from the attendees fill the Karelian Hall. One thing was for certain: he'd surely stoked the Bulgarians' nationalism. And so, it began. As Bulgaria entered the nineteen-sixties the people were filled with pride rather than regret; as were they filled with the former, Bulgaria, as they knew it, would surely cease to exist.

by **Sao Nova Europa** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 11:37 am

January 2, 1960

Empress' New Year Address

The Empress of India, Her Imperial Majesty Elizabeth II, addressed the Indian people yesterday. "As we enter a new decade," Her Imperial Majesty said, "we should remind ourselves of the great achievements of this nation in the past decade. India, the jewel of the British Empire, has matured into a stable and prosperous democracy. India has overcome both sectarianism and socialism, and now shines brightly as a beacon of freedom, progress and individual rights in the East at a time when many nations in the West - my beloved England among them - have fallen into the iron shackles of socialism and have been deprived of the liberty that men so dearly desire. In this new decade, it is my hope that the Dominion of India will see further progress and shall live up to its true potential. Bless you all and may you have a happy new year."

Prime Minister's 'State of Dominion' Address

His Excellency Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru addressed today in the annual 'State of Dominion' speech a joint session of the Indian Parliament, attended by all 1905 parliamentarians. "In the past year," the Prime Minister stated, "we saw a 5% economic growth. Our government also increased federal subsidies to the states for matters of education, allowing many of the constituent states of our federation to hire more teacher and build new classrooms. I believe that our government has achieved much, but we can do even better. As we enter this new decade, we must bolster our reformist efforts."

"After this year's election for the House of the People, which I firmly believe the Congress will win once again, we aim to pursue a bold agenda. We shall increase public investment into key industrial sectors - steel, iron, coal, and power - and shall increase federal subsidies to states for the purpose of investments into infrastructure such as roads, bridges and canals. We believe that this massive investment plan shall result to the creation of many new jobs and high rates of economic growth, which shall increase state revenues and raise the standards of living."

"When it comes to foreign policy, India has a policy of promoting peace and cooperation in the region. At the same time, though, we aim to defend our territorial integrity from any threats. My government aims to increase the number of troops stationed in the Himalayan states and to increase our military budget, in order to ensure that our armed forces are able to deter any aggressors. As part of the Entente, we shall also seek increased cultural and economic integration with our allies."

Defense Minister's Address

After the Prime Minister's speech, the Defense Minister Ne Win addressed the joint session of the Indian Parliament to inform the chamber about India's national security. "We currently have 580,000 active servicemen, and two million men in reserves. Our budget increased by 0.3% in last year, which was a modest but welcome increase that allowed us to procure more equipment. As the Prime Minister stated, we aim to increase our military budget further in the coming years. We are especially looking to invest in our land forces, as our point of view is that the main challenges to our security arise from our north."

"More specifically, we believe that China is our largest security concern. In recent years our territorial disputes have caused occasional firefights, and it is essential that we maintain a sizeable force in the north to deter any attempts by China to challenge the territorial status quo. It is my opinion that our armed forces are currently able to adequately safeguard our northern borders. It is also my opinion that we must avoid foreign entanglements that would distract us from our northern frontier."

Opposition Leader's Address

As it is customary, after the Prime Minister's and the Defense Minister's address, the leader of the largest opposition party addresses the joint session of the Indian Parliament. Chakravarti Rajagopalachari, leader of the center-right Progressive Alliance, criticized the Prime Minister. "Our economic growth has unfortunately been rather lackluster," he stated, "when compared to other nations in the region. That is a result of the Prime Minister's obsession with state intervention in the economy. The best guarantee of speed in progress is a maximum of individual freedom and a minimum of governmental interference."

"If the Progressive Alliance manages to win in the upcoming elections, we aim to abolish the License Raj by removing licensing restrictions for all industries except for 18 that relate to security and strategic concerns, social reasons, problems related to safety and overriding environmental issues. We must put an end to the red tape and bureaucratization that hinders the set up and running of businesses in India. We shall also reduce drastically regulations pertaining to foreign direct investment and privatize non-essential public services while at the same time cutting government expenses and balancing the budget."

"On foreign policy, I believe that containing the growth of socialism must be our number one concern. We should pursue security agreements with fellow South-East Asian nations and intervene when necessary to prevent the fall of South Asia to socialism. At the same time, we should attempt to solve our problems with China through diplomacy so that CTO and the Entente can work together without distractions against the evil tyranny of socialism."

Address of Chief Minister of Punjab

After the Prime Minister, the Defense Minister and the Opposition Leader, the leader of the third largest party in the Indian Parliament is the final customary speaker in this joint session. Feroz Khan Noon, Chief Minister of Punjab and leader of the Muslim League, was thus called to address the Parliament even though he is not an MP. "It is my firm belief that the road to growth and prosperity lies in decentralization. State governments tend to be a lot more efficient and energetic than the central administration, and that is understandable as they understand local concerns far better than bureaucrats in faraway New Delhi. This is especially important for peace between the Muslim and Hindu communities to be maintained. That's why I have been an advocate for even further devolution."

"As Chief Minister of Punjab, I pushed for a bill that allowed Punjabi farmers to gain access to loans at near-zero interest rate. This allowed local farmers to expand their agricultural operations and to increase the output of their production. This is the kind of activism that only state governments can competently achieve. Punjab has in fact been growing at a faster rate than India as a whole. This is an example of how decentralization is the key to progress. Instead of debating whether we need a more interventionist or more liberal economy, we should be granting more liberties to states to choose their own path forward."

"When it comes to foreign policy, the Muslim League believes that India should pursue friendly relations with Islamic nations. At the same time, I agree with Mr. Chakravarti that India must do more to contain the spread of socialism in South Asia. Socialism is a menace to our national security and it must be kept out of our continent at all costs. I would welcome a more energetic foreign policy in that regard."

by **Dogutrakya** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 12:06 pm

| PRESIDENT'S ADRESS |
NEW YEAR'S EVE, 31st of December, 1959
TV Brasil - Rádio Nacional | EBC

MY FELLOW CITIZENS, let me first begin by extending my sincere congratulations and wish for a Happy New Year. True, this is something that happens every day, minute and second. But we hear this continuous passage of time most clearly when we welcome the New Year and look forward to it as an important marker in our lives.

We are united in the hope that changes for the better lie ahead. But we know that they cannot be detached or isolated from the events that unfolded in the outgoing year.

We faced enormous challenges, but we learned to live in these harsh circumstances and solve complex problems. Our solidarity made this possible. We have seen disasters, natural and of the cause of man. To those who have lost a loved one, I offer my heartfelt condolences. To those who are attending theirs, know that you have all of my support. This year, we have officially launched a seven hundred million reai further budget into our insurance fund. This means more funds covered for you and your loved ones at the hospital, and more prosperity for our dear healthcare workers. I am truly grateful for your service.

We worked together to overcome the difficulties of the outgoing year. We stood up for those in need. We have seen conflicts in our surrounding region, and we though we have a fair share of our own problems, we have supported those who looked to us for help. We supported senior citizens and families with children who are the future of Brazil. We honor the defenders of our country; our veterans and servicemen, we have allocated an increased pay and benefit by 5%, respectively. We have included their losses into our national healthcare fund. You are brave men, friends, and the nation salutes you for your service.

We acted resolutely and consistently to uphold our national interests and the security of the country and our citizens. We have expanded the military budget, and we have produced more arms to support our allies in need. We took swift action to restore the economy and in many areas we are close to achieving our strategic development objectives. Of course, many issues remain unresolved. But we did well this year. All of the credit goes to you, the citizens of Brazil. This is the result of your hard work, friends.

The New Year will bring us great opportunities and ample success, but with it also problems. But I have faith that we, as citizens and friends who sincerely cares for each other and for our great nation, we can persevere together. There is nothing that we cannot take on together. There is no limit for our hope. In challenging times like these, it is particularly important to be creative and committed to your plans no matter what, while working for the benefit of society and your native country.

Educators, we are in need of your service. Our school and university attendance continues to rise. You are doing a great service to our nation by opening our youth to limitless knowledge. Workers and farmers, you are the backbone of our great nation. As our exports continue to rise, now that we have reached the top ten largest exporters of goods, your service is more valuable than ever. We will expand the production of raw material, including iron and gold. These valuable bounties of our nation is the construction blocks upon which we will bulid homes for your children, shelter for our elderly, and refuge for the homeless. We will connect our families and friends through new rails, roads, and bridges. To this end, I thank you, because together we have achieved tremendous economic growth, six percent larger than the previous year. Together, we will show the world the values that have made our nation so great.

And all of you, my fellow friends, you are each doing your part in making our country prosperous, in creating concrete and real results. These results will be the stepping stones towards the successful implementation of our national plans. Their main goal is to improve the well-being and quality of life of the people. Achieving these goals will make Brazil even stronger, and we will be able to ensure the continued progress and prosperity of our Motherland only if we are in it together.

Dearest friends,

New Year's Eve is both a time of celebration and joy, and a time of retreat for the soul. In this very moment we discover our achievements and faults, and our hopes and dreams for the future. This is the time to share our innermost feelings for the people who are near and dear to us, to speak those sincere words of love and gratitude which we do not always have enough time for in our busy lives. To grant and receive wishes.

I am pleased to join in these wishes, and to wish a Happy New Year to those who serve in the military or another capacity, who take care of the ill, who are on active duty at their combat post or enforcing law and order. The operation of major transport routes and a large number of plants and critical services goes on interrupted. Your responsible work maintains our country and society.

My friends, a new decade is beginning in a few seconds. Let us celebrate this important moment together. May every home have as many joyful moments as possible. May there be new families with new children. May they grow up to be healthy and intelligent, honest and free. May love fill every heart and inspire us all to achieve our goals and scale the greatest heights. For the sake of our loved ones and for the sake of our only country, our great Motherland.

Speaking from Rio de Janeiro is your friend and brother, Luís Carlos Prestes. Happy New Year. Happy 1960!

by **Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 3:08 pm

Prologue – I vow to thee

St. Martin’s Church
Bladon
November 30th, 1959

A soft rain showered on the tiny Oxfordshire village of Bladon, lashing down icily on the roads and bare branches, and flowing the storm drains swiftly into the River Glyme, where they deposited the last of fall’s detritus: the brown smudge that used to be leaves, broken branches and mud. Slowly, as the temperature dropped, the rain turned into sleet, and the Blandon streets turned misty.

It was late. Late enough for the first street lamps to light up, and for cars to illuminate their headlamps. By their light, the stranger found his way down the pavement, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his hat shielding his eyes from the pouring rain. Nestled between his breast and coat was a rose, its flower just sticking out below his neck. His steps resounded, splashing where water had come down so quickly that it had pooled rather than immediately running off. The coat he wore had once been of high quality, and still donned a fur collar and shining buttons, but it had partially ripped at some of the seams, after which they had been mended by an unskilled hand. A visible golden watch chain hanging from his coat pocket the only sign that this man had once been of means.

The man turned a corner, from town’s main Park Street up to Church Street, following the winding passage up the hill, between old cottage walls of stacked stone covered in climbing ivy, bracing his worn-but-polished shoes against the downward pouring streams. Soaked and cold, he entered the churchyard through the quaint wooden gatehouse, marked with the name of the church: “Saint Martin’s Church”. The man passed by various tombstones too worn to be legible, standing this way and that. The church and the accompanying graveyard had passed into public ownership following the revolution, but the community had decided to give the church back onto the parish on the condition that it organised democratically and paid for its own maintenance. The upkeep of the graves fell on surviving family members, and those were the only ones being regularly cleaned. The rest succumbed to the rot of oblivion.

On the far end of the field stood a huddled group of black-clad individuals, marked by the same once-prestigious clothing. Black umbrellas covered the more-prepared among the visitors. One by one, the visitors turned on their heels and left, leaving space for the man to intermingle. Apart from him, the churchyard was abandoned. The inhabitants of Bladon had chosen to remain indoors, paying no heed to the assembly of strangers. Still, they spoked with hushed voices and tones, if they even spoke at all.

The man did recognise some of the others present, if only from past years. Again the group was smaller than the year before, though, and some of the expected faces had failed to show. This was why the man had stopped striking conversation with the other visitors; there was no knowing for who it was the last time there. The man walked up to the front of the group, and placed his rose upon the granite slab. The chiselled words had not changed over the years:

“Winston Churchill, 30 November 1874 – 6 June 1952. Arm yourselves, and be ye men of valour, and be in readiness for the conflict; for it is better for us to perish in battle than to look upon the outrage of our nation and our altar. As the will of God is in Heaven, even so let it be.”

He took a step back and crossed his hands, following the example of others present by solemnly looking down at the grave. He knew he was supposed to think solemn thoughts as well, but in truth he had little memory of the former prime minister. He really only became politically engaged much later, after the socialists had collectivised his father’s factory. By then, Churchill had already gone into self-imposed exile to his country estate, being banned from leaving to India to follow the queen. His death at the hands of a radical red militia (or by his own hand in defiance, as the story went) had done much more to turn him into a martyr for the cause than his premiership ever had.

“One wonders why everyone whispers all the time” one woman said. She was in her mid-thirties, had blonde hair, and was holding the arm of the man to whom she spoke, though what she said was loud enough to be heard by the entire group.

“Tis’ the Reds, madam” one man in his sixties said, whose sagging clothes had clearly once fitted a much larger posture. His grey moustache bristled as he spoke. “You never know when they are listening”

“What about the Reds hearing what we have to say changes anything?” the woman retorted. “Even if we were planning an overthrow from here, what are we going to do? They are not listening to us, the same reason that we did not have bobbies in every pub before ’45. We thought them incapable”

She scoffed, and pulled her husband closer so that the umbrella he was holding covered her better.

“Well, there’s the difference. When we thought them incapable, we were clearly wrong. But they are right not to fear us”

The old man shook his head. “As long as we are here, Britain is not yet lo…” he tried, but the woman cut him off.

“I think…” she began, as if the man had not spoken at all. “… that we remain silent for the same reason that you refuse to get fitting clothes from a union tailor. Or that everyone here takes pride in their run-down twenty year old coats that could be fixed at every street corner. Or that we come here on His birthday under the cover of darkness. We like the idea that we are prosecuted, even though we are not. We see ourselves as brave hold-outs of a bygone age, waiting for the restoration of the true order. And while we are waiting, the world moves on without us”

“That’s why there are less of us every year. People move on. They figure life’s not so bad if you stop living in the past. They join clubs again, find a job, take up gardening…”

She had the stern voice of a school teacher or a nanny, but firm and unyielding. All the men gathered there could do nothing but look at their shoes in private shame, as if they were being scolded for being late to class at Eton. The man who had laid down the rose was the only one to look her in the eyes. They were blue and bright, and behind them churned engines and wheels. A crooked smile hung around her mouth.

“I take it that you are not just describing our situation for the academic prowess of it” he replied. Her smile broadened.

“No, quite right, quite right…” she said. She walked up to the grave monument and picked up the rose he had put down, and she turned to him, holding out her hand.

“A pleasure, mister…”

“Scott” the man answered, shaking hers. “Edward Scott. And likewise, Mrs…”

“Roberts” she answered. “Margaret Roberts, but you can call me Maggy. And if we want to get off our asses and do something, I imagine that this is as good a day as any…”

read my iiwiki · by **HISPIDA** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 4:09 pm

January 1, 1960
Lima, the Revolutionary Workers' and Peasants' Republic of Peru

The radio crackles to life.

It springs to life alongside television sets and other radios across Peru, modern industrial luxuries unthinkable before the Revolution. Radio and television stations were plastered in the program, a rousing rendition of The Internationale in Spanish. On television sets it was playing over image by image — images of Peruvian soldiers waving the Peruvian flag, a Peruvian military parade, and celebrations from October of last year; the 10th year of the Organic Revolution.

The song ended, and the images of Peruvian soldiers were replaced by the President of the Presidium and leader of the country; Jorge del Prado Chávez, a proud son of the Peruvian Revolution and Mariátegui.

“My fellow Peruvian citizens, soldiers, and comrades!

Just a few short months ago, we celebrated ten years of liberation. It was a hard-fought battle, which I'm certain many of you can remember. But now we are fathers and mothers to a generation who are growing fast under socialism, under the revolution of Marx, de Leon, and Mariátegui.

We enter a new decade and the eleventh year of our nation. Our Revolutionary Workers' and Peasants' Republic is a young nation, born from the fires of revolution that we fought so hard to achieve. From the comrades who fought on the streets in battle with reaction to those who performed the simple labors of distributing the revolution's message, I salute you.”

The President sat in silence for a brief moment, bowing his head in respect, before clearing his throat and returning to his speech.

“We enter this new decade with no lack of work to do, but also with no lack of reasons to be satisfied. Ten years ago we were a hopeless nation, besieged by reaction, with no way forward and with no means of achieving the reforms we aspired to.

Now we are in a phase of new, healthy growth. Ten years later, our nation is on the threshold of a new and modern era. This new period is worthy of all of our celebration. It is a mature and expansive one. It is a period of complex changes that we hope will allow us to correct and correct all the defects we have not yet had the chance to correct, and to complete all the unfinished projects we have started.

Just as we did ten years ago, we must focus on the future. Our objectives are the same, our desire to go beyond these present conditions is the same. And so, I would like to take this opportunity to express a new resolve, to renew the hope that many of us have not lost in our struggle.

We now have an important mission before us. We must fight not just to expand the revolution but also protect it from the forces that would seek to smother it, from the forces of fascism and reaction. We must strengthen our resolve and enter the future together; united for our common cause.

Yet I did not decide to speak solely about the future. We must also talk about the present. At present, we enjoy a period of unprecedented growth. We have successfully upheld the goals of the revolution, and have led Peru into a new era of freedom and socialism. Ten years ago, we stared down fascism. Ten years later, we are doing so again. We will prevail; we must prevail.

Long live the revolution! Long live the People’s War! Long live the ideals of Marx, of de Leon, of Mariátegui!”

The President’s speech concluded, and the Peruvian anthem — Salvo el Poder, Save the Power — began to play over the radios and television sets that formerly hosted the President’s face and words.

Jorge del Prado Chávez sighed, wiping sweat off of his brow. He looked over to his assistant, who was gathering his paperwork from the speech.

“How’d I do?”

“Fabulous, sir.” He smiled. “A telegram came for you — from Columbia.”

“Thank you, Ana. I’ll look at it.” He remained seated at his desk while he opened the telegram, reading it carefully. He read it again, before nodding. “Send me Paredes. Tell him to get a notepad, too. He’ll want to write this down.”

by **Mets Hayk** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 4:25 pm

Krepostta Gyumyurdzhina
Gyumyurdjina, Belomorie Oblast
Tsardom of Bulgaria
01 March 1960

Out stepped the Tsar and his old companion and former regent, Venelin Ganev; outside the old Byzantine fortress. Twas an unusual sight, the Tsar visiting a Greek-made monument, but it was possible he saw it for more than what it was; perhaps he saw it as a symbolization of what Bulgaria would become were it to fall to communism. Sure, the husk would remain for a millennia; but the heart and soul would be gone. A testament to these trying times. The sovereign rested his hand on one of its walls.

"Each of these walls tell a story...of glory turned to defeat...a once great empire destroyed by the foreign hordes."

The elderly Ganev turned to Simeon, perplexed.

"Why are we here, Your Majesty?"

The Tsar sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm afraid that we'll be next; Venelin Yordanov...just another page in the history books. Everything we'd built up, everything we have to be proud of ourselves for...gone in an instant. Tossed to the winds."

Ganev lit a cigar; staring into the grey, lifeless stone. It was cold to the touch; and many a crack made the old fortress coarse. Twas true, it had seen better days; as had the world, as had BULGARIA. And yet, unlike the Byzantines, they were still here. Their hearts still beating...their prayers still going answered. Was it not their time; or were they just lucky?

"I remember what Georgiev said some years ago...that, were it not for you and your father, we would've fallen years ago. I'd knew you had potential when you were but a mere boy; always eager. That's what the assembly liked about you. Besides, were it our time; don't you think it'd all be over by now?"

Simeon chuckled a bit, "Ah, I suppose you're right, Venelin Yordanov..."

Yordanov reached for the Tsar's shoulder.

"Now, why did you bring us here? Certainly, Your Majesty didn't just come here to talk."

"But indeed, I did. You know, I feel as though I should've just left the crown to Kiril...the stress of leading a throne in these times it just...gets to you, you know?"

Venelin shook his head, "I can't say I do...but, listen to me Your Majesty. I have, no, ALL of Bulgaria has faith in you."

The Tsar sighed, "If you're certain of it; it must be true."

"Indeed."

The two men walked back to their car; leaving footprints in the rather uneven dirt. The driver, an enthusiastic conscript, had not even the slightest of experiences when it came to driving such a high-profile duo prior. That's not to say he was bad per say, but his frequent mistakes and decisions to choose the more...uncomfortable path definitely made for a questionable chauffeur. They were off to Sofia, where Simeon was called to bury the repatriated remains of his grandfather; the former Tsar Ferdinand.

Perhaps he was to blame for Bulgaria's misfortunes. A competent leader, yes; but Ferdinand had led Bulgaria into many an unnecessary war and had abdicated, forced to do so in shame of bringing his realm to near collapse. But it was still his grandfather; and the questionable decisions he'd made didn't matter.

Central Sofia Cemetery
Orlandovtsi, Sofia Oblast
Tsardom of Bulgaria
01 March 1960

Twas one of the largest state funerals in Bulgaria's history; that of the first modern-day Tsar. For all of the chaos he'd caused, the people still seemed to admire him; chanting the lyrics of "Shumi Maritsa" as the closed casket of the dead sovereign was carried out. Surrounding the casket were the Tsar, his uncle, and other family members; both distant and close.

"People of Bulgaria; behold the sovereign who had given you your freedom! Behold the great Tsar who led your forces to so many a victory, and yet the same you had cast into exile! Behold his casket, behold i-"

Kiril was promptly stopped by Simeon; his face red with embarrassment.

"My friends, we are not here to admire our late sovereign, but to give him the dignified burial he was denied all those years ago. His ambitions may have caused many a peril for the Bulgarians; but here he is, in front of us, reduced to bone. Let us not insult the good sovereign; for he served his nation. Let us not worship the good sovereign; for he neither died a saint nor a martyr. No, my friends, let us solemnly bury our FIRST Tsar since the Turkish yoke was overthrown."

He cleared his throat

"Here we shall bury him as he wished all those years ago. Amongst the Bulgarians! May God have mercy on him for his past mistakes."

The casket was lowered into the plot; promptly covered with dirt. Perhaps it was wrong to remove him from the family crypt; but a sovereign's corpse in red territory was never a good situation; lest they defile and destroy the body. And so concluded the funeral, the people leaving within the hour; as did the Tsar.

Twas a tribulating day, indeed; but there was much more to be done.

by **American Pere Housh** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 4:39 pm

President Aleksandra Kozlova walks up to the podium with microphones in front of her broadcasting her message on both TV and the radio with translators ready to go, "Moim sograzhdanam Baltiyskoy Federatsii i lyudyam vsego mira, segodnya ya vystupayu pered vami, chtoby ob"yavit' novyy god i novoye desyatiletiye. Khotya ochen' grustno, chto kogda-to velikiye derzhavy Zapadnoy Yevropy i Severnoy Ameriki pali k bichu radikal'nogo sotsializma, my iz Ob"yedinennoy Baltiyskoy Federatsii i ostal'noy chasti KTO NE pozvolim ostal'noy Yevrope ili miru past' k sotsializmu.Demokratiya ostanetsya sil'noy zdes', v Federatsii, dazhe posle popytki sotsialisticheskogo perevorota, kotoraya byla podderzhana amerikantsami poterpel neudachu pochti shest' let nazad.Moim soyuznikam v KTO i moim druz'yam v Antante, ya priglashayu vsekh liderov natsiy, krome etikh dvukh organizatsiy, v Rigu, chtoby my mogli obsudit' voprosy bezopasnosti i obsudit' vozmozhnost' provedeniya sovmestnykh voyennykh ucheniy KTO i Antanty. Spasibo i spokoynoy nochi." ("To my fellow citizens of the Baltic Federation and to the People of the world, today I come before you to announce a new year and a new decade. While it is very sad that the once Great powers of Western Europe and North America has fallen to the scourge of radical Socialism, we of the United Baltic Federation and the rest of the CTO will NOT let the rest of Europe or the world fall to socialism. Democracy will stand strong here in the Federation even after an attempted socialist coup that was backed by the Americans had failed nearly six years ago. To my allies in the CTO and my friends in the Entente, I invite all the leaders of the nations apart of these two organizations to Riga so that we may discuss security matters and to discuss the possibility of conducting joint military exercises between the CTO and Entente. Thank you and good night.")

by **Union Princes** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 6:47 pm

Algiers, Kingdom of France
Notre-Dame d'Afrique, January 3, 1960

Under the gaze of the African sun, King Bernard I d'Orleans was prepared to deliver his speech commemorating the recipients of the Croix de la Valeur Militaire. While it wasn't the climate nor his first time as royal sovereign to lead this ceremony that gave him a feeling of existentialism, the peculiar set of men stood before him. Their arms at their sides with their backs straight as a ruler and though his father had awarded medals to a variety of peculiar men, these men were everything more. The years of training and command in the French Foreign Legion had done wonders for them as the words of praise left his mouth and were heard by the audience of men and women of French Algeria. The camera crew of the French news channel, Le Patriote, turned the camera away from King Bernard to focus on the five men.

Captaine Josselin Nicollier was the first in the line and, despite meeting him before, King Bernard still felt unease at the scar on his left cheek. The Austrian man had explained countless times that it was a Schmiss, earned during his fencer days before working for the Fuhrer in Germany. Though unrepentant of his previous career, it did nothing to hamper his performance in the FFL. His service in dismantling several underground Moroccan, Algerian, and Tunisian nationalist rings last month earned him his place in the presence of the King.

Adjudant Louis Sadoul was more pleasant to look at if not just as controversial as Nicollier. The young man, hailing from the region of Finland, was unofficially banned in Russia due to his allegiance during the 2nd World War and had fled into the arms of the FFL to escape prosecution. The following 15 years saw him partook in the invasion of Liberia and the counterinsurgency in Nigeria and French Cameroon. His service in assisting his fellow Legionnaires and African comrades in learning unconventional warfare would inevitably land him a comfy career in a French military academy as an instructor.

Adjudant Henry Barnier looked out of place in this crowd. He was a Japanese exile that fled after the socialist regime in Toyko embarked on a program to dismantle and crush the Yakuza. Whenever he wasn't tasked with protecting the Sub-Saharan Railroad, he would often lament losing his dream career of being the next Kumicho. Nonetheless, his steadfast diligence and leadership in deterring and neutralizing bandit threats on the railroad have earned him enough renown to allow Barnier to utilize his personal katana in service, one of the few relics of his old life.

1re Classe Dimitri Masson seemed overwhelmed by the attention but gradually accepted it when King Bernard delivered him his Cross of Military Valor. Despite serving just 11 months in the FFL after arriving from the Dominion of India, those years were anything but lax as his unit was tasked with tracking down human traffickers seen in the Sub Sahara. Masson's medal was earned after his commanding officer spoke highly of his determination and resolution when his company was ambushed during their chase.

Finally, the king stood before the most fascinating man that has ever joined: Captaine "Mad Jacques" Churchill. The only foreign fighter who joins the FFL that insists on retaining some semblance of his old name and using his steadfast bow, broadsword, and bagpipes. Ever since the fall of the United Kingdom and the British exile to India and Australasia, Churchill continued the fight against the PANPACT. Under his leadership, the Legion of Saint George, a motley crew of middle-aged British and Canadian soldier-exiles, were the most effective jungle fighters in the service of France. They had never lost a single engagement despite insisting on using the obsolete No. 4 Mk. I Enfield rifle. As for the man himself, standing proud and defiant, has earned further renown after ambushing guerillas in Nigeria, killing 25 rebels half his age with his longbow while slaying another 12 with his broadsword. More numbers adding to his total kill count well over in the triple digits.

Addressed to: the CTO and the Entente
The Kingdom of France expresses acceptance of the Baltic invitation to Riga and gratitude to be part of future friendships with member states of the CTO.

by **Anowa** » Fri Jun 03, 2022 8:46 pm

To Rest
National Mausoleum, Government Enclave, Gaborone, Botswana // January 1st, 1960

It seems like this was the day for rain in Gaborone, and a day it was. Black suits, black dresses, black umbrellas, black coats, a large framed photo, an urn, and a speech, slowly being drenched by the rain. A state funeral for as close as one could get to a national hero, at least for this nation. The deceased's son stepped away from the microphone after finishing his eulogy, taking his place next to Major Lauri Törni who had earlier also given a Eulogy.

Looking back down at the small piece of paper with a eulogy written down, Councillor Dave Sutton gave a small frown as the writing had become so blurred as to become illegible. The post-it note sized swathe of paper was swiftly crumpled in to the former SOE operative's hand as he approached the microphone, better from the heart, afterall.

Adjusting the microphone, the British born man started, "The Lieutenant General was a... devisive man. Known to many as an enemy, and known to many as a friend, as a father, as a leader. But he managed to maintain a level of respect from all parties. History will look upon his actions with a microscope to dismantle his character, try and downplay his accomplishments. I know well what he had done, who he was and who he followed, at least for a time. But in the end, he was a soldier, in the end, his past mattered little. His efforts helped turn a nation of fragmented fighters in to what we have now. His skills transformed our army in to something resembling the effective and unwavering fighting force we have today. Regardless of what he was before, Rommel has my thanks in that endeavour, despite being my enemy in the past, he was a friend close to his end." the man looked over to the urn, "We won't scatter your ashes to a soulless desert Erwin. Not you, not anyone."

The man nodded to the honor guard, and in a few moments, the pair had taken the urn in to the mausoleum, where the tactician would be interred for the remainder of time, if not the remainder of this nation's time.

by **Mets Hayk** » Sat Jun 04, 2022 3:14 am

Euxinograd
Varna, Varna Oblast
Tsardom of Bulgaria
01 April 1960

Euxinograd, a symbol of shining hope for the monarchy...
A memento of an older time, of a BETTER time...

Simeon, accompanied by his senior advisors, sat in the dining area; a glass of the premium Krug Clos d'Ambonnay champagne in front of them. Twas a nice spectacle, this dinner of both the old and young; all too reminiscent of the old festivals the family would house. Sure, only the elite were to attend, but Twas nice while it lasted; after all, the summer palace had long been disinherited by the Tsar and his court for quite some time now. Outside, the many wives of the advisors gathered; chatting about whatever was on their mind at the time. Perhaps politics, perhaps but common gossip; nonetheless, it didn't matter.

What did matter, however, was that the Tsar would be celebrating six consecutive years of his reign for a few days; and that this little dinner was of much greater significance than many had thought. See, every year, starting with his ascendancy to the throne; Simeon held an annual "advisors' conference" to discuss the state of the Bulgarian nation. Twas very confidential, and everything said within the walls of the palace were to STAY in the walls of the palace; lest the people hear of demoralizing rumours. Simeon raised his glass,

"Gentlemen, I thank each of you for coming to such an important event. Now, as you enjoy the champagne, let us get to more important matters."

Arose the hand of Stoycho Moshanov.

"Your Majesty, I've received confirmation from our ambassador in Riga that the Baltic Federation's planning to host a...meeting of sorts, between the CTO and the 'Entente'."

"Is that so?"

Moshanov nodded, taking a sip of his champagne.

"Indeed, Your Majesty...shall we send a representative?"

"Why wouldn't we, Stoycho? Send Mihalchev. Does anyone have anything else to say?"

Rose the hand of Karlo Lukanov. He had previously served amongst the ranks of the long-illegalized socialist parties; changing sides following the reforms of Boris III.

"We believe there to be IMRO agitators operating out of Gostivar, as there has been quite the large spike in violent crime; especially against ethnic Serbs."

"I see...are you certain of this, Karlo?"

"Either that, or it's another group we haven't taken note of yet."

"Alright...I'll see what I can do. Is there anything else? No? Alright, gentlemen; finish your drinks, and we shall bid ourselves farewell."

"Well, there is one OTHER thing", whispered Lukanov.

"Yes?"

"We believe there to be a growing...pro-Romanian movement near Southern Dobruja."

"It's nothing to worry about, Karlo. They've existed ever since my father, God rest his soul, had died. Never once were they violent; nor do I believe them to become so."

The men bid their goodbyes and promptly left; along with them their wives. Sat alone was the Tsar who rather quickly took a pen and one of his many sheets of paper he'd kept stashed in a cabinet. He was an avid letter-writer; preferring to do so by hand rather through typewriter. Twas addressed to the President of the Baltic Federation, Aleksandra Kozlova.

Madame Kozlova,

I, His Majesty Simeon II, the Tsar and sovereign of great Bulgaria; hereby accept your invitation to discuss matters in Riga. In my place will be the honourable Dimiter Mihalchev, as I have a great deal of work to do in the motherland. I solemnly hope that all goes as planned in said meeting; and I wish the best for the future of your great nation.

Regards,
His Majesty Tsar Simeon II of Bulgaria

by **Rodez** » Sat Jun 04, 2022 2:05 pm

The Kingdom of Greece
Βασίλειον τῆς Ἑλλάδος

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier
Syntagma Square, Athens
Kingdom of Greece
January 1, 1960

Paul, King of the Hellenes, pulled his great coat closer about his frame to guard against the morning chill while he waited for Admiral Spyridon Avgeris, Naval Chief of Staff, to finish speaking to the assembly of soldiers, politicos, and the crowd of Athenians gathered behind them. A slight dusting of snow lay on the ground of Syntagma Square, at the heart of Athens. Behind Paul rose the granite wall that marked Greece's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, with its prostrate hoplite and the words of Thucydides running beneath the fallen Greek:

ΑΝΔΡΩΝ ΕΠΙΦΑΝΩΝ ΠΑΣΑ ΓΗ ΤΑΦΟΣ

The whole earth is the sepulchre of famous men

Behind the tomb itself rose the old Royal Palace, which for thirty years had been repurposed as the new home of the Hellenic Parliament, as the royal family had moved to Tatoi Palace outside Athens proper. Parliament, Paul knew, would convene its first session of the new year tomorrow, and would vote on the hotly contested diaspora bill, among others. But that was their job, he reflected, and this was his.

The general finished speaking - about the modernization of the navy, though in truth, Paul had not been listening too closely - and turned to the king. "Your Grace," he said, backing away from the center space before the carved hoplite.

Paul nodded to Avgeris and turned to face the crowd. "Soldiers," he began. "Sailors. Airmen. People of Athens. Greeks. It's a new year, a new decade. We've come far in the thirteen years since our war was won, first against the occupiers, later the communists, later still the Turks. We've done much; our cities rebuilt, our commerce restored, the old lands of our people reclaimed, our dignity restored. We can stand now as one, and look to the future with confidence, as a nation that has her destiny laid before her."

"And yet." Paul paused, furrowing his brow. To the nearest onlookers, he suddenly looked very much his age; a man not quite sixty who had aged a decade more under the stresses of the throne. "And yet, there is unease. We ask ourselves what it means that half the continent in ensnared by the deceptions of Marxism. We ask ourselves when, not if, Turkey will again decide to breach the peace that we have bought with our blood and challenge the Greek's right to exist in the nation that Providence set out for him.

"So there is disquiet. And there is a debt." The king gestured to the fallen hoplite behind him. "Thucydides said it best: 'the whole earth is the sepulchre of famous men.' For us, every Greek that laid down his life for the nation is such a man. Farmers and fishermen, miners and craftsmen, students and teachers. Whether it was against the German, or the communist, or the Turk, our martyrs have purchased our future by giving their lifeblood."

As the king spoke, a sailor came forward with a wreath, which he handed off with great ceremony. Paul laid it at the feet of the Hoplite. "We must remember," he continued. "We cannot hope to repay; so we must carry forward what they have bought. We must trust in each other - family and friends, neighbors, strangers on the street. We must trust the Greek with whom we argue, who votes differently than us, who angers and infuriates us. We must trust him because he must trust us; because if we do not, our enemies profit from our disorder, and the democracy, monarchy and constitution which have defined our nation will be lost."

"Trust the Greek, then. Trust the Armed Forces. In December, we inaugurated a new regiment - the fourth - of the Hellenic Marines. We called it Xenophon, after the Greek that led the Hellenes back to the sea from the wars in Persia. Our strength at arms has kept us free, and will continue to do so.

"We do not expect, though, to face all of the challenges of these times alone. We count ourselves lucky to be a signatory to the Cooperative Treaty Organization, and we must support our allies as they will support us. Facing the evil of the west is not a task for one nation, but many.

"Most of all, though, we should trust our faith in Providence. God alone knows the fate of men, but to separate ourselves from our faith is to unmoor ourselves from what makes us Greeks. Peter said 'Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time'. That is what we do when we trust each other, when we help each other, when we set aside differences of the political or personal nature. Should we achieve that much - the humility of brotherhood - we at once humble ourselves before God and honor the memory of our war dead. These things we must as a nation do when we take our first tentative steps into the new decade. Zito Ellada! Zito Eleftheria! Happy New Year!"

Η Καθημερινή
Kathimerini
January 3rd, 1960
Parliament Approves Diaspora Immigration Law; Boost for PM

At the conclusion of yesterday's parliamentary session, the first of 1960, Parliament approved the controversial Diaspora Law by a vote of 176-114. The new law, championed by Prime Minister Konstantinos Karamanlis, would make it significantly easier for ethnic Greeks in other countries to immigrate and gain Greek citizenship, particularly from Albania and the United Arab Republic. The language of the law even provides for government-issued IDs for the Northern Epirote population in the southern regions of Albania.

MP Georgios Papandreou, leader of the opposition and the liberal KF-EK alliance, voiced his reasoning for voting against, stating: "the law puts our relationship with Albania in grave danger, and smacks of the ethno-nationalism which I thought we had left behind as a country." He also sharply criticized the 14 EK MPs who broke ranks to abstain, calling them "laggards - worse than useless." The Social Democrats joined KF-EK in opposition, as did the majority of PADE representatives.

Kathimerini asked Prime Minister Karamanlis to respond. He had this to say: "Our project is nationalist, yes. What does Mr. Papandreou think the first war with Turkey was about? If it was so wrong, should we have laid down our arms during the second war, and let the Turks undo all that we have accomplished as a people? It has been my government's policy to try to bring Greeks closer together as a people. This law does not challenge the territorial integrity of any state in any way. It simply expedites the process by which Greeks beyond our borders might return home, if they so wish."

The passage of the law is a victory for the Prime Minister's agenda. Next, parliamentary debate will turn to the procurement of new naval armaments, as well as the childcare law being advanced by the Social Democrats.

by **Imperialisium** » Sat Jun 04, 2022 4:55 pm

Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire
January 1st, 1960

Saint Petersburg, sister capital to Moscow, was beautiful much like her sibling. Despite not bearing the moniker of 'Most beautiful city in the world,' like the latter. Saint Petersburg was in many ways possessing a charm of its own. A window to the West, as stated by the first Emperor of Russia, Pyotr I, and it showed in its buildings, its commercial districts, and even the fashion of the locals. Of course, ever since the rise of communism in the West this term was much more limited to those merely outside the Empire than a specific geographic direction. Yet, it was still the most cosmopolitan city in the Empire. Chinese merchants, Baltic freighters resting at dockyards, and tourists from half the world over. One could not go throughout the city without seeing the absolute power and splendor of the world's greatest empire. Spanning from the Oder to the Pacific Ocean. Arctic to the Sands of Iran and the Zagros Mountains. Polish cobblers, Iranian silk traders, Mongolian fur trappers from the border regions around Lake Baikal, and elements of all the one hundred other ethnicities that called the Empire of Russia their home.

It was hard pressed to imagine any sense of global tension or as some Russian elite would declare, The Second Great Game, with the Communist world when winding through the metropolis clean and orderly streets. But if one were to toss a Kopek at one of the many hollering youths peddling newspapers along the street corners, you'd see half a dozen headlines declaring the former. East and West. East versus West. The world was fractured and held together only by the bandying promises of officials with their own agendas. Africa was faced with rising belief in Pan-Africanism. Europe was divided by lines of ideology. The Entente were the remnants of the old alliances while the CTO were the banded together nations opposing the abrupt explosion of PANPACT onto the scene.

Indeed, a walk through the crowded streets, avoiding the humming traffic of automobiles, the duality of the global atmosphere was everywhere.

Tsarskoye Selo

The Tsaritsa sat, reading as she often would, in the isolated yet serene confines of the Empress Reception Island. Located on a small islet with a single building in the Russian Revivalist architectural style, surrounded by a small garden and solar, with the only way on and off being two small walkways that doubled as connecting causeways to the larger South Gardens. Fish swam in the waters around the Isle as the Empress of All Russia admired her latest written word. Missives stacked on a small table to the left. A servant in a fur felt hat stood off to the side. The Baltic nation wanted to host a conference and military exercise. That would ruffle some feathers to be sure, thought the Empress. While the conflict of the Two Frances posted a powder keg in the Western Mediterranean. But there were some positives. Her Ambassador to India, Vyacheslav Molotov, was in Delhi seeking to negotiate an expedient way to transport Russian oil to the hungry economy of India. Allowing continuous delivery and potential economic growth for areas in the Empire's extreme South and of course India's own Western provinces.

The Tsaritsa sat down her book and looked at the servant politely, "Summon the Ambassador Baltic Federation, here. I wish to give a verbal confirmation of Russian participation in these deliberations."

The servant bowed and left with a turn of his heels. Within the hour the Ambassador of the Baltic Federation would receive an official summons to come before the Tsaritsa on the topic of Kozlova's announcement.

Delhi

Vyacheslav Molotov owned much to his skills as a diplomat and for his connections to the famous, or infamous, 'War' Prime Minister Joseph Stalin. A patronage he still felt despite the latter long retiring to his dachas over seven years prior. A man with white hair, a dark moustache that refused to gray, and spectacled eyes. Molotov was not an imposing man by any means, bookish and well mannered, who favored simple white dress shirts under plain black business suits. He knew his coming to Delhi was unnecessary, an ambassador of much less veterancy and position could have done this, but the Empress wanted a symbolic gesture to India. He was a symbolic gesture. A sign of this dealing's critical economic importance to an entire swath of Southern Asia.

Arriving at the desired location Molotov was ushered into a lobby to wait. His small staff of secretary, aide, and pair of junior diplomats coming in behind him. Ever the practical man he moved to the nearest seating and sat down. Rubbing his temples after the direct flight from Moscow to India. He hated flying. But the Tsaritsa would tolerate no such trivial personal pleasures like taking a train, nor was it timely.

by **Nitrana** » Sun Jun 05, 2022 8:41 am

Prague, Prague Castle, January 1st 1960
“Mr. President? It’s time to address the nation.” The Presidents secretary slightly opened the door, only to see a room bathed in gloom. The only thing that produced some kind of light was a small lamp, which allowed her to see the presidents working desk and… the president himself. She was here so many times, yet, she hasn’t seen him in such a state.
“… I’m coming.” Said a voice which could easily belong to an old man. But Dubček wasn’t old. A man in his 40s, almost always with a smile. The nice, caring type. Still, here he sat, shrugged over the hoard of papers, looking like an 80-year old veteran from the two wars.

After he got his coat on, the secretary and two guards waiting for him escorted him to the balcony. When he looked down, he saw crowds and crowds of people, awaiting his speech. He stepped right to the microphone, cleared his throat and as fireworks erupted all over Prague, he started:
“My fellow citizen. Today, we are not only celebrating the start of a new year, but a whole new decade for our nation. It is truly unbelievable, that 21 years ago, Czechoslovakia was a crushed dream. Yet, here we stand. The past decade has been a troubling one. From internal troubles, to the rebuilding from the cruel war. But still, we stand proud. When in 1919, the Hungarian communists were knocking on the doors of Bratislava, many feared that this was the end of such foolish union. And as then, the true patriots stood, we as well stand proud. And when any idiot tries to attack our republic, we will stand proud again. We must tell all the dictatorships in the world - liberty is coming for you!

He slammed his fist into the table.

“Czechoslovakia, the bastion of liberty, will stand! We shan’t fall! Thank you for listening.”

The crowd exploded into cheers, as he, waving returned to his office. But something was wrong. As he tried to go back through the doors, a voice echoed through the castle plaza.
“Death to the capitalist scum! Down with Russia! Down with Dubček!”
Three shots could be heard throughout the night. All three were shot at Dubček.

As he fell to the ground, his secretary ran through the balcony doors to the wounded president. “Mr. President! Are you alright?!”
“Heh… he fired three times, but the hit the target only once! Even that went through my leg! If his father was a hunter, he’d be disgusted.”

Meanwhile, the crowd turned from where the shots came. A 16 year old boy stood there, an old American revolver in his hand. He was sweating and scared. He tried to run, but there was no escape. They already blocked the door. The crowd threw themselves at him, beating him up in minutes. The police, who shortly arrived, quickly dealt with the situation. An assassination on the president was just made, and it was quite clear that the communists had something to do with it.

by **Newne Carriebean7** » Sun Jun 05, 2022 9:57 am

Covenant of the Republic (Pacto de la República)
Nacimiento del año 1960 (Birth of the Year 1960) Address, broadcast live over the airways for the people of Spain and a lesser extent the rest of Europe.
January 1, 1960

"The Regency of Christina brought ruin to this country. For half a century, the people starved. For half a century, the people suffered. For half a century, the nation stagnated. It was the culmination in the ill-thought out policies of the misguided woman. Our colonial possessions, nabbed up by violent and bloody independence scraps and military blunder after blunder...

It-t-tis--... It is now that, this time, during... Now this time, the people finally had their say in running the country. We marched in the tens of thousands through Madrid, Shaking the boots of the prim and proper elites with such a temper that the whole of the country shook alongside us! We...We brought her to her knees! At the expense of Christina, we assisted another fine seinorita... We helped out España! As far as what we believe in, regardless of who we are, whomst've we rub elbows in our mosques or cathedrals, regardless of if you're a white man or a white man, we can all agree to this: 'Patria por encima de Dios!' THIS... This has been our ideology for over thirty long and hard years. I am very honored to have served alongside many a fine politician.

In the first war, I had many a fine soldier march alongside me into battle against our foes. Our right-wing foes! The Nationalists did put up a good, good fight. I would be lying if I said we had won every battle against them. We lost badly on multiple occasions. This was not a happy occasion. Wars are never easy to comprehend, let alone fight in. We owe our national pride to the men of this country. We also owe our, deep, deep gratitude towards the Americans, towards the French and towards the Portuguese that risked their lives and fought and died for US! You know how we won? Through the spirit of the Spaniard. Through the bood-blood, sweat, tears and bullets of the everyman. THIS VICTORY WAS BROUGHT ABOUT BY ALL OF YOU!!

N' When the traitors broke ranks in the second war and vowed to defeat us, you know who I had to look to in my left and right sides? I had to look to YOU, THE PEOPLE OF SPAIN! These folks ended up on the right side of history. They have been vindicated, mythologized and held on the highest available pedestals of Spanish folk-lore, apart from our national mythos that we are endeared forever to. We ousted that damned Committee. That Committee was nothing more than the ghost of Christina. It was the long, shadow that has long loomed over modern Spanish history. I am happy to state that..that... THEY HAVE BEEN SLAIN LIKE THE DOGS THAT THEY ARE!

Spain is not for sale by the highest bidder, Spain is a proud people with a lengthy culture and language. We do not sell ideas to the fattest looking monopoly man. We share those ideas amongst the people. Do you know why I set up the jurados? It's to give the PEOPLE A SAY IN JUSTICE, with a reasonable method of appealing. It is a fair system which gives the common man, the every-man, the working man and the farming man a say in justice and governance. It allows a hands-off approach to allow those that want to sell Sheep for some money, they can do that. If the man is cross with the farmer who sold him a malfunctioning and sick Sheep and he sues, then the Juradoes can dish out JUSTICE FOR THE MASSES!

Spain owns the freest air on this planet! It operates the freest Press known to Europe! They complain that we are not liberal enough, I'd say we have a balance. The Secretariat's job is to handle large issues that a small jury would be inappropriate for. Juradoes do not concern themselves with foreign policy. That is the job of a dedicated minister. We have our checks and balances and allow the common man a chance to be approved as a jurado. Maybe even some-day, such a man can be elected to the Pacto de la República, where his special talents in either the press or military, no matter his income or lack there-of, he can help mend laws for the good of his fellow man! THIS IS THE ONLY COUNTRY WHERE THE POOR MAN CAN LEGISLATE! I WELCOME YOU ALL INTO THE NEW YEAR, MAY THE HEAVENS WELCOME EVERYONE, HAVE A GOOD REST OF THE YEAR!"

Antonio Ortiz Ramírez walked away from the podium as the crowd erupted into a heavy symphony of wild cheers intertwined and mingled with more apathetic clapping at grizzled veterans that had heard the same, boring speech every year. He glared at an older looking gentlemen, dressed in a fine suit, staring at his pocket-watch.

"Fifteen minutes. Did you like to savor the look on their faces or do you just like talking that slow?" The man questioned, a small grin escaping from his features as Ramírez finished waving to a few dedicated on-lookers before turning to the old man.

"Mierda de toro, Menéndez. I'd hate to have to stop you from having to baby-sit all these new faces. What's the time?"

Sixto Menéndez, the Speaker of the assembly of individuals that Ramírez had just wrapped up talking to, glanced once more at his pocket watch and did some menial, mental math before replying cheerfully.

"Twenty minutes, give or take a mierda or two. It's almost a new personal record."

"Oh?" Questioned Ramírez, now eager to hear how he had almost beat his last speech.

"Well...thanks, I guess. I'm not one to brag or anything, but I'd consider that my mangum opus in terms of speeches. I very much liked it. It's got the nationalistic oompfs that keep the crowd punching at the enemy. That speech was a contradiction, a riddle, an eloquent massing of vowels, verbs and nouns to prepare an assault on many a spainyard's ears. It was my baby, and I did love it. Didn't you feel a roller-coaster of emotions while you were standing beside me Menéndez? I thought I saw you shed a few tears when I spoke of the ills of Christina and how far we've progressed democratically. "

"Truth be told..." The Speaker began, trying to stifle a few chuckles. "I preferred that speech you gave in '55..."

Ramírez looked blankly at him before a face of annoyance was deployed as he understood the context and remembered the contents of that speech in particular.
"The one I gave on shitting-general sanitation to the Agricultural jurados outside of Barcelona? May you remind me why you remember THAT speech so much?"

"Because...when you finished, you lost your footing and landed in a pile of freshly made mud pies! That was the funniest thing I had ever seen in my damn life! Heh..heh..ha..ha!... but, in all seriousness, Ramírez, I have to admit it was a speech. It wasn't so much as a battlefield of words, unless you decided to spark a civil war in your mouth and have yourself trip over the nouns and pronouns you slathered the idiots I have to deal with. I've seen politicans spill out many a drivel over my twenty years as the Speaker of this 'ass of democracy', but yours isn't anything terrible."

He shifted his stance slightly as he continued.

"The world, she is a changing. The only real questions are, do you want to join the future or get left behind... But, I'm getting behind myself with my language. I'm simply offering advice-"

"Unsolicited advice."

"I'm still offering it, regardless of if you want to hear the truth or not." The Speaker replied cooly, now used to the interruptions that came with the middle aged man the eighty year old had to baby-sit. After a few more moments of recollecting about their political careers, both the head of state and government bid each other adieu, vacating the small hallway that had long since been abandoned by the members of the Pacto de la República.

Sos del Rey Católico
January 1, 1960

The sleepy town of Sos del Rey Católico is as uneventful as it is monotonous. The locals were rarely bothered by obnoxious tourists from out of beloved Spain. Sure, there was the occasional American, but they never really reached the same level of annoyance as an ill-behaved Russian tourist, as rare as those were. However, as a society is, there are still crimes, people are murdered and society marched forever forwards to progress. Well, if you were a man, then you could march forward to the highest ranks of government. When people committed these crimes, no matter HOW small the crime, from a slight on family honor to the more serious charges of murder, they would look to the small collection of individuals that were to be the 'beacons of fairness and truth'.

So this story opens on a wooden shack surrounded by the luscious vegetation of the Spanish countryside, as the sun peaked it's head over the horizon. A few townsfolk looked over at the rock carved sundial that helped set the time in the small village. It was Noon, and it was now time for justice to be served.

The creak of a metal cell door was heard down the hallway of the court-room, where a small gathering of the local townsfolk poured into the former monastery turned house of justice. This place wasn't just a chance to take a break from the monotonous grind of day to day life, it was a chance to catch up with your neighbors, an opportunity to hear the latest news from those 'in the know' about national happenings and, for many poor farmers, small opportunities to pass favors on and earn small jobs along the way. Flanking the entrance to the former Church were two flags of the nation, it's combination of red and black fluttering lazily in the light breeze of the winter month.

"You...You... Pig Thief! Son of a bitch! Rotten rotten Bitch, bitch bitch! You will die-"

The hums and side conversations slowly stopped at the ongoing commotion from the back of the room, as two guards wearing Phrygian caps placed firmly on their heads and wielding bolt action rifles pressed the unwilling man forwards, square in-front of the Jury. The doors were shut firmly by a fresh set of paid volunteers, allowing a molecule of privacy in the room from the peering eyes of those late locals who were prevented from interrupting the meeting of justice. The loud cracks of a gavel filled the room as the head of the local Jurado began the trial.

"The Trial of Olleo Sinbad Antonio for the theft of three pig heads from the local bakery is now in session. The Jurado as a collective wishes to hear opening statements from both the accused and defendant, preferably without either speaking over each other."

The man that had started the cussing stepped just behind a faded chalk outline on the cold, hard stone ground to make his case to the jury.

"Juradoes, friends, and family. I...profusely apologize for such language earlier. I was simply expressing my... gratitude towards the ministers of justice that had summoned me for this meeting. I have an odd way of showing gratitude, which is to cuss at my friends and family. But, that is not what we are here for-"

"We are here to hang a guilty man!" Interjected the prosecution as a few whacks of the Gavel from an irate head of the Jurado accompanied his interruption of the defense.

"ORDER! Prosecution cannot speak at this time. Defense may continue."

"T-Right. Now, that is not what we are here for. We are here to administer justice in a fair manner. I don't think any one of you holds me in utter contempt. I simply got hungry. Don't we all get hungry? I was hungry, and so I decided to take one pig head-"

"Three pig heads." Interjected the prosecution, who was met with another string of angry gavel whacks by the still angry Jurado head.

"ORDER! Prosecution is reminded again to shut the fuck up. Defense, as you were saying..."

"I decided to take one pig head. You cannot fault a man for not knowing how to fish, after all. We live by the beloved river that gives us fish. I don't know how to fish. I had to get my food from other means. So I...borrowed the pig heads and I forgot to bring them back. I rest my case."

"The Defense rests their case. Prosecution, do you have anything to add?"

"Si. Yes. We would like to inform the jurado that this man wounded the pride of MY butchery. It's a stain on my honor. How does it feel to go around, knowing that you've been robbed by your fellow man. I have worked hard for everything in life. It infuriates me as a person when I see some no-good lazy... fellow to jump through a hoop and try and steal my hard work. It is slander on my character and a stain on my good favors with this beloved community! I am a family man. I do not doubt the man was hungry, but... I would have been willing to give him a free Pig's head if he had just ASKED! Asking, juradoes, that is the lesson for today! I rest my case, juradoes."

A gavel was struck.

"This jurado will convene privately now to weigh the decision between the seven of us. Please vacate the building until a decision has been reached. That is all."

As a crowd gathered anxiously outside of the decrepit old house of god, the sundial reached lower and lower as the jury deliberated their methods of punishment and order. Eventually, they did agree unanimously on a verdict for the condemned. A completely fair punishment by the man who had 'slighted the pride' of the butcher.

A small piece of paper was slid under the door as the Juradoes left using a back exit.

We, the Juradoes, find the defendant: Miguel San Gabriel de Neucomonoto, GUILTY of the following crimes:

Stain on the Character of the victim-

Recommended sentence: A formal apology to the defamed.

Theft of another's personal property -

recommended sentence: Return of stolen property to the victim, failing that, he shall be employed at the local facility of the crime location until such time as to work off a debt of 3,400 pesetas. This is estimated to take upwards of 3 years for an estimated earnings of 4,032 pestas. The remaining 632 pestas will be allocated two ways: 400 pestas will be donated to the local farm that produces meats for the butchery, and 132 will go towards paying his legal fees to the local juradoes for hosting the trial

by **Nitrana** » Mon Jun 06, 2022 7:14 am

Prague, Vinohrady Hospital, January 2nd
Hospital Vinohrady had a guest. The president himself. Right after the failed assassination, the president was escorted to this very hospital. Funny enough, the press already knew about the situation. Dubček was immediately taken to an operation room and got the shot taken out. He was taken to his room in the hospital. He had to sleep. He knew the next day his room would be flooded with reporters and politicians and policemen and whatnot. Yet, he couldn’t sleep. Why? Why did they do this? He knew, no, he was SURE that Gottwald and his Marxist goons had something to do with it. But why? Why not just win the elections? They had enough funds and popularity to initiate a revolution of the workers’ and then, then, the commies in the west would have a reason to invade.
“Liberation of the workers. Hmph. Like I haven’t done enough for them.”
He murmured for himself, then dived again to the whirlpool of thoughts in his head. Maybe they wanted to do it the “stylish” way? Taking out him and then the coalition in the elections? Or when he was dead, the revolution would go easier? Then why sending a kid? He didn’t know for sure. The only thing he knew, was that they failed. And that the time has come for a counteroffensive.

In the Morning, the situation was as he expected. The room was filled with a mass of people.
“Sir! Who do you think was behind the attempt?” The question was shouted by a reporter from Slovenské Národné Noviny. So the Slovaks cared after all.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot make any assumptions. Me, as well as the chief of the police promise that we will capture the people behind this. We must prevent anything like this from ever happening again.”
The other reporters started shouting questions but they were all stopped by the secretary.
“I am terribly sorry, gentlemen, but the president is weak after the operation. He must rest. I must ask you to leave the room immediately.”

When the room cleared out, Dubček smiled at his secretary.
“What would I do without you Johana.”
“No worries mr. President. I’m always here, at your service.”
“Now, there were news that got to me, about some talks between the Entente and the CTO… Are those true?”
“Yes, mr. President. Shall we sent a diplomat?”
“Yes. Send Novotný. We want good relations with the Entente, both as a CTO member and as a part of the free world.”
“Yes, mr. President.”

by **The Knockout Gun Gals** » Mon Jun 06, 2022 7:36 am

Mongolia National Palace
1960

President Yumjaagjin, the first democratically elected president from the Democratic People's Party, a leftist democratic party, watched atop his office, sipped his coffee in the process. His Mongolia has begun to reforming towards a mixed economy, one where the capitalism moves normally as it was before but also one where the state reins in the capitalism to not tortures the people. The industrialization of the state requires focus to properly handles the investments from Russia and China, as well as the construction of the industry. The military is modernizing at a moderate pace, phasing out older planes to training and newer planes to use for. All in all, seems normal, isn't it?

So why he still felt without most joy?

by **Imperialisium** » Mon Jun 06, 2022 6:01 pm

Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire
1960

News of the attempted assassination of the Czechoslovak President did not take long to reach the rest of Free Europe, let alone the governments of the CTO and Entente. With the Russian government immediately sending a public communication of solidarity with their Czechoslovak brethren and that Russia would stand firm against 'Red Terrorism'. On more clandestine dispatches the Russian intelligence services were a buzz with attempts to find any and all scraps of information on the assailant, his connections, did he have any in Russia currently or in the past, and could there be further attempts or new ones on other CTO Heads of Government. As a result, the Imperskiy Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Imperial Committee for State Security) or IKGB pushed a preliminary report to the uppermost circles of their Lubyanka headquarters in Moscow. Meanwhile, a concurrent list of names of possible suspects would be sent and dispersed to the Imperskiy Komissariat Vnutrennikh Del. The Imperial Commissariat of Internal Affairs (IKVD) which immediately began to enlist the aid of Internal Troops for the rounding up of communist sympathizers with violent rhetoric, pasts, or connection throughout the Empire for detainment. Needless to say, after the 'War Prime Minister' Joseph Stalin's protracted tenure as Head of Government for the Russian Empire the IKVD had left pitifully few Communist sympathizers of any note or resourcefulness left to now arrest on suspicions of terrorism or intention to commit crimes against the people and Russian State.

by **Somurias** » Tue Jun 07, 2022 9:52 am

Semarang, Central Java, Indonesia
1960

The Tjakrabirawa Regiment and the Indonesian People's Police (Polisi Rakyat Indonesia/PRI) is walking in the street, looking for survivors in the ruined area in Semarang. The road is empty, it's filled with some destroyed cars, dead horses, broken bicycles, and the debris of the buildings that got destroyed during the Battle of Semarang. There's 3 M4 Sherman in the city and other military vehicles as well. General Untung — former lieutenant colonel of Tjakrabirawa Regiment — is inspecting the patrol. He often visiting the ruined buildings and making sure that the city is safe. "How's the patrol?" he asked to a Tjakrabirawa soldier, "Found anything yet?" "So far, we found 17 dead people and 59 severely injured, Sir," the soldier answered. "Keep looking for survivors or corpses, take any government's soldier to the prison immediately," Untung said. "Yes, Sir," the soldier responded. He then walked away from that place, looking for more survivors.

One of Untung's soldier approached him and said something. Untung then turned and get into his car. His convoy is now moving away from that place, going to the prison in Semarang, the place where many government's, GIM (Gerakan Indonesia Merdeka/Free Indonesian Movement), and Dutch soldiers got arrested. Untung's convoy arrived there in less than 20 minutes. Untung get out of his car, and then walked into the prison, while the prison guards saluted him. He walk to the interrogation room, and then without asking any question, the police guarding the room, opened the door for the general. Untung take a seat, waiting for a war prisoner to enter the room. The door opened, and 2 prison guards escorting the prisoner to his seat. The officers tied the prisoner's arm to the chair, before leaving and closing the door.

Untung take his hat off. He then asked to the prisoner, "There's some resistances in this country, that oppose the new regime. You was captured during the Battle of Semarang, now please tell me about their information." The prisoner did not responding. Untung sighed and take a paper from his uniform's pocket. "This paper, contains the last order given by General Ahmad Yani before he lost the battle, you better explain it to me now," Untung said. The prisoner did not responding. "I guess that's enough," Untung said, "Guards!" The door of the room was opened, and the same 2 prison guards are taking the prisoner back into his prison cell, meanwhile Untung left the room and returning to his convoy.

by **Nitrana** » Wed Jun 08, 2022 7:52 am

Prague, KSČ HQ, January 2nd
The office of the head of the party, Klement Gottwald, didn’t have the same calm feeling that morning. Gottwald, and three other high-ranked KSČ members had a “consultation about the current situation.” At least that’s what the lower-ranked members were told.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING?!” Shouted Gottwald at three other men, which all stood in line, sweating.
“T-THAT HE COULD… JUST FUCKING TAKE HIM OUT? WITH THREE SHOTS AND A REVOLVER FROM OVER HALF A CENTURY AGO?!” It was quite clear for the three men that Gottwald was outraged. They could only watch in fear. No one could say anything to oppose Gottwald. This was his little socialist dictatorship, and as long as he’s alive, he won’t let anyone stand up against him.
“AND YOU… YOU… SONS OF BITCHES! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM DO SUCH A THING?! HOW?!” Gottwald was red, as he was trying to control his breathing.
“WE HAD A PLAN! AND YOU IDIOTS JUST R-RUINED IT!”
“I am terribly sorry sir, but-” He shouldn’t have done that. The man was stopped by Gottwald, who was redder then ever.
“I AM DEGRADING YOU! YOU HEARD ME FUCKER?! DEGRADING! I’M DEGRADING ALL THREE OF YOU, AND YOU CAN THANK COMRADE HUSÁK HERE! NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE UNTIL I EXECUTE YOU! VEN!” The trio quickly ran through out on the corridor. There, the two turned at Husák.
“You really had to do it, right, you idiot?” Said the older one.
“Shut up.” Responded Husák.

by **The V O I D** » Fri Jun 17, 2022 8:25 pm

Assembly Hall of the People's Congress of the American Union State
Columbia City, Capitol District
American Union State
January 10, 1960

In a small conference chamber, Director James Worth of the Foreign Response Division of the National Intelligence Directorate was seated with Chairwoman Danielle Rochester, Foreign Affairs Secretary Henry Wells Jr., and Defense Secretary Victor Fillmore. Due to the security concerns involved, this meeting would not be broadcast.

“The Czechoslovak attack. Was it someone affiliated with us?” The Chairwoman cut straight to the point.

“As far as I can ascertain from our associates in Europe, there were no planned operations in Czechoslovakia,” James responded, “so this is either independent rogue action, or it is an attempt to justify a political purge of any allies we might have in the region.”

“That is not ideal,” Fillmore said, lips thin, “do we have any options?”

“None involving intervention that would not lead to an ... enthusiastic response from Moscow,” Wells interjected, “or else jeopardize other avenues of outreach.”

“Troubling,” the Chairwoman murmured, “what about this conference that's going on? Is it possible we can get eyes on that, see what the mood is in response to the tragedy in Czechoslovakia?”

“I'd have to consult with my colleagues in Britain, see what they think,” James answered slowly, “but maybe. Do we want to know what the mood is? I feel like, regardless of genuine rogue action or a justification for political purge, odds are the mood is going to be sour.”

“Confirmation would be useful, at the least,” Wells offered, turning to Fillmore, “right?”

“I agree, but we shouldn't risk any Forwards,” Fillmore said with a nod, using the nomenclature for agents under James' command.

“Using them could potentially confirm more direct involvement, might escalate things,” the Chairwoman agreed, “alright, Director Worth, I want you to quietly pass along a message through the British ambassador to your colleagues on the Isles. See if we can arrange something; if they decide it's too risky to be done, we'll call that off.”

“Onto the next brief order of business,” Wells began, “Lima has confirmed attendance to the PANPACT meeting. Other responses are still pending, but we have time.”

“Excellent,” the Chairwoman sounded pleased, “and is there any other urgent business, then, aside from that? Secretary Fillmore, Director Worth, how's the security plans coming along? We'll not have any incidents?”

“So far, nothing to report,” James answered, whilst Fillmore just shook his head.

“I'll have to consult Director Johnson, but we should be good there, as well,” James added afterward.

“Do so,” the Chairwoman said with a nod, before looking around the room, “I think this concludes this emergency meeting; hopefully, nothing else has gone awry while we were in here.”

There was a general sense of agreement as they left the conference room.

by **Somurias** » Thu Jun 23, 2022 3:54 am

Wonogiri, Central Java, Indonesia
1960

A man sitting down in his chair, writing something on a piece of paper. He's wearing an old Indonesian military officer uniform. He's surrounded by trees and some people in uniform. He wrote something down on the paper, before he take another cigarette. Outside that tent, hundreds maybe thousands of people in uniform, is walking around. They're either chatting, singing, patrolling, or sitting and enjoy their dinner. One of them gets to the previous tent, and then he take his hat off, before he finally get inside. "Colonel," the said, while also saluting to the man sitting on a chair. The man stood from his chair, and then saluted the soldier. "What is it, Bung?" he said. "They killed Soebroto, our spies in Semarang told us that General Untung was there before," answer the soldier. "As long as he didn't tell anything about us to Untung, we're fine," the man said, "Gather the soldiers, Bung. We'll move at 7pm." "Yes, Sir," said the soldier, before he saluted the man and get out of the tent.

by **Nitrana** » Thu Jun 30, 2022 5:16 am

The Obchodná Street, Bratislava, January 11th 1960
A mob of angry people marched through the street, right to where the Commmunist Party of Slovakia(KSS=Komunistická Strana Slovenska), a subgroup of the KSČ resided. When they reached it, they stopped. There was an another group right before the building, shouting repeatedly:

“TRAITORS! TRUTH PREVAILS! DOWN WITH GOTTWALD!”

The other group joined them, creating a crowd of about 120 people. However, the demonstration was soon interrupted by a voice: “WHAT DO YOU FUCKERS THINK YOU’RE DOING?! DISPERSE! THAT IS THE ORDER FROM THE PEOPLE’S WOKER MILITIAS!”

A group, of about 25 militiamen, armed with American rifles and guns (two of them even had Thompsons) stood there, ready to take action. However, to surprise of some of the militiamen, the people did not obey the orders.

“SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU’RE NOT THE POLICE, NOR THE GOVERNMENT!” Responded a rather angry man, with a broken glass bottle, presumably from a big bottle of kids champagne. “NOW GO TO YOUR PAPA GOTTWALD AND FUCK OFF!”

The presumably leader of the militias, and the one who told them to disperse, readied his Thompson. “EITHER YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE GONNA GET OUT OF HERE, OR THERE’LL BE FUCKING TROUBLE!” When he ended, the rest of the militiamen did the same.

“LIKE WE’RE SCARED OF YOU COMMIES! THIS IS OUR CZECHOSLOVAKIA, AND YOU DOMT BELONG HERE! PEOPLE, ITS TIME TO TEACH THESE GOONS A LESSON!” Said the man from the mob, readying his “weapon.” The other crowd members did so too, revealing knives pitchforks and demolition hammers. There were even three or four sounds of Makarovs loading.

And so the two groups clashed. The fighting and unrest continued until evening, when military police secured. The area. 5 militiamen and 34 demonstrator lives were lost. And the Anti-Communist sentiment only grew larger.

by **Somurias** » Mon Aug 01, 2022 1:20 am

Somewhere in Central Java, Indonesia
1960

An army led by Colonel Soeharto is moving through the forest, sometimes they're stop advancing to hide from being spotted by a PRI officer. They are advancing towards Yogyakarta, to retake the city from the Communist. It's been 4 hours of marching, yet they are still far away from their destination. They decided to take a rest that night, but to avoid being spotted by the PRI or the TMR, they decided to establish their camp somewhere near the Bengawan Solo River. They are located far away from a populated city, and they feel grateful. However, sometimes the TMR soldier or the PRI officer explored the forest because the government knew that the remnants of the GIM still exist.

City of Yogyakarta, Special Region of Yogyakarta, Indonesia

President Muso visited Yogyakarta to meet the sultan of Yogyakarta, Hamengkubuwana IX. His purpose is unknown, but only some people want to welcome Muso in Yogyakarta. The PRI officers are still searching for the supporter of the GIM to be arrested. Muso's convoy arrived in the South Square, near the Sultan's palace. His car is now almost reaching the T-junction, and then something happened. Someone in the crowd take a pistol and before the PRI take the man down, the man shot Muso, right in the head. Muso fell from his car, and now the crowds began to scream as they saw their president died right in front of them. The killer was taken down, but now, the Communist State of Indonesia has no leader. The PRI take the man to the Yogyakarta PRI Base, and informed General Untung about the death of Muso. Later that day, the man was taken to the interrogation room. In front of him, is General Untung, guarded by 2 Tjakrabirawa soldiers. "I see that you got the courage to kill President Muso, Brother Soeratno," General Untung said, while showing the man's ID, "I see that you also worked for GIM, the same as your friend Soebroto. Just accept it, the Communist won the civil war." "The Republic of Indonesia is what we wanted since we gain our victory over the Dutch," Soeratno answered, "The Communist regime is nothing but group of traitors in the chair of command. I can assure you that the GIM is still exist, and you can't do anything to break our spirit." Untung laughed, and then he said, "Listen here now, the GIM was defeated. We've purged all the supporters of the GIM, and now, you will be another one who will die for your own empty hope. Take him to the execution field, soldiers." Both of the Tjakrabirawa soldiers, move toward Soeratno, taking him to the execution field. Untung left the interrogation room, and then he meet the warden of the Yogyakarta PRI Base. Before he left, he said to the warden, "Find all the GIM supporters, i will not tolerate you if this incident happened again." "Yes, General," the police general answered. Untung then left the base. The police general walked towards his office, to inform all personnel to find the GIM supporters. He didn't notice that Officer Anton was there, listening to the generals' conversation. He then walk towards his room, to write a message for Colonel Soeharto, which says, "The President is dead. You got to find the GIM supporters before they got the opportunity to retake Yogyakarta. Do it before Indonesia got a new president". Without anyone knowing (except for GIM supporters), the thick letters is the actual message for the colonel. He send that message to another GIM supporter in Yogyakarta, to be delivered to Colonel Soeharto.

Workers of the World, Unite! [IC/AH/OPEN]

Workers of the World, Unite! [IC/AH/OPEN]

The General

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