NationStates Jolt Archive

It wasn’t that Bernardo Casternatto didn’t love his country. In fact, quite the opposite: if he hadn’t loved Tharia so much, then he’d never have come to Fort Manly in the first place! And besides, he was only a traitor to those corrupt, overinflated bureaucrats in Ianapalis, not to his people. He was a patriot to Tharia; a freedom fighter. And now was the time that he plied his craft, as he sat atop Nongsa Head and counted ships passing through the Singapore Straits.

Today was very exciting. Usually, his results were so boring he didn’t even bother reporting them: just a spice convoy running back the the ‘wealth, or a weapons shipment to the men fighting in eastern Gallaga, or nothing at all. Buttoday, oh blessed today, the Straits were stained gray with Iansislean shipping.

Somehow, the marine sentries didn’t seem to mind someone just sitting on Nongsa counting ships. After all, Bernardo had been coming up here to do that for years, before the war even started. Granted it made his job more exciting knowing that at any second he could be grabbed and tried by a military court as a spy, then shot, but he managed to stay less than terrified of Iansislean counter intelligence. As dusk fell at last, with the last of the massive convoy still visible steaming up towards the Strait of Malacca. Bernardo folded his notebook and walked unobtrusively down the grassy path, even exchanging a friendly “hello!” with one marine as he walked past.

Back at his apartment, Bernardo pulled out his wireless gear. Naturally, it didn’t have the range to transmit directly to Ercolana or any of its main colonial bases, but through various waypoints in the east Gallagan Ocean, it would soon find its way. He fed the wireless message through the standard encryption, and it was beamed out, not even raising an eyebrow among Fort Manly’s electronic specialists who may have monitored it.

large ians ship movement near fort manly [stop] count three battleship two cruiser nine destroyers seventy three merchant transports [stop] ships outbound from batam north-west direction [stop]

Bernardo closed his transmitter with the sense of a job well done, and crawled into his bed for a deserved night’s rest.

---

In Great Walmington, Sir Benjamin S. Ludpenny, Iansisle’s permanent ambassador to Walmington-on-Sea, contacted that country’s Foreign Affairs office. “Ah, hello. I’ve just received an important dispatch from Ianapalis. Yes, the naval attaché to my embassy would love to discuss some new developments regarding Operation Honor Bound with your military.”

“I just wish I knew where we were going,” complained Corporal Nathan Shortman of the King’s XIV Rifles Division as he shuffled towards His Iansislean Majesty’s Merchant Ship Parthia. Behind them, Nusheld moved with the hustle and bustle of a major port departing nearly 15,000 troops.

“The current rumors say it’s gonna be Burma,” replied the soldier in front of him.

“Bah, that’s nonsense, Clark!” called the soldier behind him. “It’s gonna be West Gallaga, just you wait!”

“Just how the hell do you know, Bert? I heard the lieutenant speaking about our orders, and he said it was Burma!” called back the one called Clark.

“How do I know? Why would they have the First Army moving into Punjab if we weren’t to support them by landing in Sind? Get your head about you, idiot!”

Shortman sighed and let the conversation fade into the background. Wherever they were going - Burma, West Gallaga, North Africa, or god damned Germany itself - it was clear that His Majesty’s army was going to war. He tried to concentrate on the two lonely shapes, far out past all the troop transports, that were to be their escort for the voyage. Compared to the massive bulk of the transport armada, the pair of destroyers seemed pathetically small. Shortman just hoped the navy had one hell of a plan if his company was to go anywhere.

Meanwhile, back in Nusheld, Hal Corden smiled to himself. Owning a bar in the Company’s largest port in Gallaga certainly brought in a good deal of whiskey money from sailors and soldiers. However, liquor tended to loosen even the tightest of lips, and Mr. Corden had found very lucrative customers for most of his information. He wondered how much the Ercolanians or the Chaingese would pay for the information that half His Majesty’s army in northern Gallaga had just set sail for places unknown...probably more than his greedy little mind could begin to imagine.

Major General Sir Douglas Pritchard felt a little out of place as ‘his’ army marched west out of Lucknow under the blazing Gallagan sun. He sat at the head of 20,000 able bodied soldiers, but only 1,750 of them were actual Royal Iansislean Army Corps men. The rest were a scattering of Company-paid sepoys: the world’s largest gathering of poorly trained, poorly motivated, and poorly equipped ragamuffins.

Sir Douglas sighed to himself. He knew for a fact that there were now almost 45,000 R.I.A.C. troops deployed in Iansislean Gallaga, most of whom were concentrated around Nusheld and Fort Ash rather than anywhere they might do any good, like as part of his force in the west or holding against the Chiang Maï advance in the east. He glanced back over the dark faces of his command, checking to see if there was a hint of the King’s spirit on a single one of them, but he was disappointed.

The orders he had received from Ianapalis, relayed by way of Fort Manly and Nusheld, had been disturbing in their vague implications. He was ‘to proceed with all due speed’ to Delhi, which had long been the acknowledged border between Iansislean and Ercolanian Gallaga, though true Company influence had never spread much further than Lucknow, and ‘secure it as a base for future operations.’ After that, ‘should it prove expedient,’ he was to ‘harass Ercolanian forces in the area by way of incursions into their sovereign territory.’ However, ‘should enemy power in the area prove greater than expected, you are to avoid conflict and fall back upon Delhi. Under no conditions shall you surrender control of Delhi to forces hostile or neutral.’ He shook his head as the column continued to trudge north-west. It was as if his force was meant to serve as nothing more than a distraction!

OOC- I had a quick question about just how that part of Asia is divided up. What about RL countries like Pakistan, Turkey, ect? Basically, what I wanted to know is, what nation that could put up a good fight stands between Germany and your holdings? That I couldn't stand even a slight chance of brokering a deal with, that is.
Not that I think I could support a supply chain all the way from Poland to Galliga, mind you. Still, it's worth considering.

(Well, Pakistan (or Punjab and the Sind, as we like to refer to it at this point in time ;)) are Ercolanian holdings. After that, it's primarily Afghanistan and Persia, then you hit the British holdings in the Middle East, and then Turkey. I'm not sure the state of Vichy possesions in Syria, but with the British so hard pressed in Egypt and the Sudan, they'd find little time to consolidate them.

I've actually read a discussion about a theoretical German drive through the middle east during WWII, either using the Italian Dodecanese and Vichy Syria or through Turkey. Naturally, without an Eastern Front, it sounds pretty good on paper...still, supply lines would be stretched, and I'd imagine Stalin would be very ... concerned about a strong German presence in the near east.

I think if we offered Russia the whole of Poland, and maybe Turkey too, Stalin might let us pass through. You're right about the logistical problems, though... unless Rommel takes the Suez, in which case we could supply them from the sea. If they stay close to the coast, at least. It'll definitely be worth a study at the OKW.

Happy New Year, btw.

Happy New Year to you too!

Heh, the Germans making concessions to the Russians? Now that's an interesting one! :P

Anyhow, I don't really think this thread'll be getting too far until WoS finds it...at which point, the full extent of Operation Honor Bound shall be revealed!! (*crickets chirp*) Well, ok, so it's not all that impressive... ;)

Yeah, whatever happened to that guy anyway. I think I mighta upset him with all the goings-on in the Deutschland thread. I hope not, though.

No, I don't think so. From what I gather, his time has just been a little short of late, probably because of all the holidays. I'd imagine WoS'll be back in full strength pretty soon now.

Awesome, I can't wait. There's a little scuffle going on in North Africa that needs his attention. But I've managed to get you quite off subject, haven't I? :roll:

ooc: I will be back to full RPing very soon.

Yah! I haven't seen you around in a while either.

(Ah.. uhm.. [puts down Caffreys' and cigars and switches Chopin to a less than frightening volume] oh yes, that spot of bother with Jerry et al, right! Where's my rifle?)

Swallow Bank House, Walmington Street, Great Walmington, Walmington on Sea

"Walmington Street Great Walmington Swallow Bank House." A mild gentleman's voice softly if hurridly spoke. Sir Benjamin had -improbably quickly- reached the desk of Minister for Foreign Affairs, Deputy PM Arthur Wilson. Lazy days in seasonally complacent Walmington meant that the island really didn't expect to be bothered until mid January at least.

Wilson collected himself and properly made himself known to the ambassador.

(ooc: Germany and Japan had some half baked plan for meeting up around India, didn't they? And I suppose Stalin would be delighted to avoid a fight with Germany, being as he refused to accept Hitler was invading for almost as long as.. well, almost as long as Hitler refused to believe Normandy wasn't a diversion. Quite who's going to convince Der Fuhrer to deal with the Bolsheviks I am not so sure ;)
I shall try to be around more in coming days. I may fall asleep at any minute (who made it half two already?) but yes.. I shall be less frequently absent. Sadly.)

I remember reading something about that too one time. I wouldn't put too much weight on it happening in this stream of reality either. Like Iansisle said earlier, the logistical strain would be too much. Unless, of course, Rommel's 5th Panzer Army makes a good showing in North Africa, in which case we could use that as a jumping off point. But I rather doubt this will turn out any different than in RL.
Good to hear you'll be able to participate in all this again, by the way. I'm getting anxious to see what happens next in sunny Africa.

ooc: I will be back to full RPing very soon.

Glad to hear that, Ag. Hasn't been the same without you! ;)

"Walmington Street Great Walmington Swallow Bank House." A mild gentleman's voice softly if hurridly spoke. Sir Benjamin had -improbably quickly- reached the desk of Minister for Foreign Affairs, Deputy PM Arthur Wilson. Lazy days in seasonally complacent Walmington meant that the island really didn't expect to be bothered until mid January at least.

Wilson collected himself and properly made himself known to the ambassador.


(oops..perhaps it's because it's nearing on 4am here, but I wasn't quite able to decide if this whole business is taking place over the telephone or in person...eh, I’ll just assume it’s in person, and we can adjust to any mistakes from there ;))

Sir Benjamin was indeed impressed with how quickly he came to Mr. Wilson’s attention. He hurriedly smiled and prattled on for a bit, then turned to introduce the two men behind him. “This is Captain Edward Singer,” started the elderly ambassador, indicating the man in naval uniform, who stepped forward and saluted Mr. Wilson, “and I’m sure you’ve met Franklin Johnson, my personal assistant.” The fact that the man’s briefcase was embroidered with the name ‘Johnston’ didn’t seem to affect Sir Benjamin’s introduction any, though it did cause the man’s lip to twitch slightly as he reached to shake hands with Mr. Wilson.

“Now then,” rumbled Ludpenny, crossing his hands over his massive gut. “Captain Sanger informs me that he’s received some new information on the war, and would like to share it with your top military officials. Naturally, I thought this would be the, ah, perfect time to, ah, pay you a visit...” The more he explained it, the sillier even the dense Ludpenny felt. Surely this would have been a better matter to take straight to the Walmingtonish War Ministry, or perhaps to their Admiralty. After another stuttering start, he fell into silence.

Mr. Johnston looked as if he were about to throw up, or else crown his boss with the nearest blunt object.

Wilson quickly and casually saluted back, then took the assistant's hand in a rather limp grasp and gave a, "How do you do?" To a Mr.Johns[mumble].

When Ludpenny explained that his companion had come into news related to the war effort Wilson appeared politely interested.

"Oh really? How terribly fascinating!" He said, managing to sound sincere where others might have been thought sarcastic.

"Well.. perhaps we'd better..perhaps we'd better get in touch with the ah defence rooms."

It took some time for Wilson to summon his secretary, owing to his excessively mild manner and soft speech which went unnoticed at the first time of asking. Eventually any and all members of the Iansislian party were invited to meet the Prime Minister who was apparently elsewhere in the substantial Swallow Bank, before proceeding to the Defence Rooms under the city.

(ooc: Yeah, probably there's not much you can do with that until I move folk on, but I'm a bit.. spaced out at the moment, and shall return later to introduce our good friend)

ooc: Sorry that I haven't yet responded to this thread...I really meant to. I think I may let it drop until Ag has sometime to formulate a proper response, though.