NationStates Jolt Archive

Richmond, Virginia

The sun gleamed into the car and the eyes of Malcolm Anderson, Minister of Internal Affairs, as he drove down the now concrete roads of Richmond. The city itself was blossoming, since the Second Southern Uprising in 1932 and the victory that came after the entire South had seen a revival of wealth, albiet in the most rural communities which still were more poor than anyone else. Malcolm cast that thought from his mind with the simple phrase, "Can't please everyone". He then turned his attention back towards the city of Richmond, and again he couldn't help but wonder how it would look if Virigina didn't succeeded with the rest of the Southern States. None one would really know now, since by the grace of God, Virginia did succeed from the Union.

As Malcolm's car rounded the corner he noticed immiedately two gentlemen in some sort of uniform walking down on the sidewalk, at first he assumed they were Richmond police but upon further inexpection he realized they were wear the old uniforms of the First Confederacy. He would have then expected them to be reenactors (they were extremely popular since the Confederacy's independance) if he didn't notice the M1 Carbine's they had slung around their shoulder. Now he knew who they were, they were apart of a group called the Vanguard. A very racist group established by President Gemstone himself to ensure and keep the peace; and rumors of a most sinister plan had been circulating about recently. Taking a few more turns and driving relatively peaceful for the next twenty minutes they finally arrived at the Richmond Estate (http://www.holidays2usa.co.uk/images/57079997_richmond_state_capitol.jpg), the place where all Presidents of the Confederacy were to reside. An eligant housing with white paint that seem almost pure as a real white person. As the car drove up to the door two Vanguard troopers walked up and opened the door for Malcolm he stepped out of the car and they saluted him, he replied with the same. He made his way into the building.

Once inside he walked up to the secetary's desk and there sat a young woman, the name plate sitting on her desk read: NORA STAFFORD. For a moment she seemed deeply entrenched in her work which appeared to be filing papers and occationally pulling a few files out, she suddenly looked up as he feeling the presence of Malcolm suddenly and he immiedately composed herself.

"My apologies sir," she stated nerviously.

"Thinking nothing of it mame," said Malcolm with a charming smile, "I do believe I have an appointment with President Gemstone, mame."

She nodded and scrammed threw the morass of papers on her desk all the while apologizing for the wait, she eventually found the reception paper and scrolled down it with her finger and stopped towards the bottom. "Yes sir, President Gemstone will be with you momentarily. If I could have you take a seat just right over there," she replied calmly. He nodded and strold over to a set of chairs and took his seat. He looked around the highly decorated room and noticed a few noteable pictures on the wall, of coarse there were pictures of Gemstone himself but there was also pictures of Robert E. Lee the overall of commander of Confederate Forces during the Civil War. Malcolm couldn't help but come to the realization that Gemstone, no matter how much he was loved, would ever be as loved in the South as General Lee. Lee had always wanted to become the "Washington of the South", and in a sense he had become just that. Though his defeat defeated that possibility during his time, his reputation and respected lived on and actually inspired the Second Southern Uprising. Many Southerners believed Lee to be the "Washington of the South" and thus in that sense Lee had accomplished that goal in his life, albiet a century and more late. Malcolm looked around and noticed other portriats of other great Southern generals: Jonathan "Stonewall" Jackson, Stuart, Beaugard, and even Longstreet. All great men of a nation which should have never died and their military poweress and determination to their cause was unmatched, even in this day.

It was about that time that the door opened to Gemstone's office and out walked General Brutun wearing standard uniform with several medals and other such fancys on his outfit. Brutun gave a glance towards Malcolm before Gemstone walked out behind him. "That will be fine, General. Just fine," stated Gemstone. Gemstone was a rather large amount, one would almost call him fat. Though in pictures and on the radio he was declared and portraited a great and mighty figure to the Confederate cause. He smiled and shook the hand of General Brutun before sending him on his way. He then turned to Malcolm and motioned him to come into his office. Malcolm stood up and slightly bow in gratitude before entering the office with Gemstone behind. As Malcolm then took his seat which was in front of the Preisdent's desk. He sat there and remained confortable while Gemstone reached his own seat.

"I'm glad you could make it this quickly," stated Gemstone leaning back in his chair.

"Thank you sir," stated Malcolm.

"Now, Malcolm, we have a problem in this country. A problem which I promised to eliminate the first time I spoke to the people," said Gemstone.

Malcolm knew Gemstone had just lied, the first time he ever spoke up was against the war, but Malcolm took comfort in the fact that after a regiment of propaganda and forced patriotism, that even he would believe it. He thus resigned himself to simply let it pass. He also knew of the problem Gemstone spoke about and it was the black population of the south which since the rise of the Second Confederacy had been brutally oppressed, not by the government but by the Southern people themselves.

"You speak about the negro problem," stated Malcolm.

"As surely as the South is free once more, I do," said Gemstone, "Since the beginning of this nation I've had to put that plan off cause I wanted to organize and modernize this state as quickly as possible. Though now would protests occuring in Atlanta over the lack of deported blacks I am being forced to take action now."

"Sir, do we not have the Vanguard?" replied Malcolm.

"We do, but even they lack organization and leadership," said Gemtone before putting a guess-what-I'm-about-to-do look on his face, "That leader is you Malcolm."

Malcolm's heart beat a skip, he wanted the blacks deported but he never imaged he personally would be asked to preform the deportation. "Sir?" he questioned with clear shock in his voice.

"You, Malcolm will be in charge of all aspects of deportation. You will have the Vanguard at your disposal along with a nice and plump budget to begin with. Carry out deportation how you deem fit," stated Gemstone with absolute honesty in his voice, clearly dissovling any chance of this being a joke.

Malcolm recomposed himself and sat there for a moment in silence, "Every aspect sir?" asked Malcolm. Gemstone nodded, "As of now. I place you in command of the Vanguard Units and you are hereby in command of deportation operations. Begin your operations as you deem fit. I do say this, I want atleast ten precent of all blacks out of this country gone by the end of the year; and I do suggest you being in Altanta least that city suffer from the protests."

Malcolm nodded. Deportation would begin soon enough.

ooc: a very large minority in the south is black and i dont see you being able to kee up an industrial economy while deporting neraly half of your population. I would suggest work camps to build 'character'.

Washington, D.C.

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt wasn't much interested in the goings on in Europe. At least not to the extent that he wanted to get the remnants of the United States of America, a collection of 34 states that had just seen a hostile power develop so close to its own shores. Besides that, keeping the rest of the country from falling apart around him was of more importance than stopping a madman in the makings.

The United States was badly hampered in its efforts to pick up the economic pieces following the secession of the Confederacy. Its military was a shambles, with only nine battleships capable of firing a gun. Of those, only six were built after 1919. The modernisation programme set to begin in 1937 had to be postponed indefinitely and money wasn't in the Federal budget to resume it. Hopes would have to be pinned on a United States Army that underperformed since John Pershing removed his uniform for the last time. But what would their purpose be? To defend the United States against possible aggression from this new Confederacy? To defend it against an attack from abroad?

Roosevelt met with his Secretary of War to discuss the state of the American military in the wake of both the secession and the Great Depression. He hatched up a daring plan that would restore the United States to its former glory, but he needed a good reason to do so. Fortunately, the reason dropped into his lap after he received a telegram from Britain's Winston Churchill.

"Mr. President, take a look at this," the Secretary said. He handed Roosevelt the sheet of paper that detailed the Confederates' plan to expel blacks from the country and begin a Fascist Confederacy. Roosevelt's brow furrowed and his eyes widened. Why is Churchill sending me this, he thought. He wondered if Winston were trying to drag the United States into the growing crisis in Europe. Hell of a time for that. I've got enough problems here on this side of the Atlantic. However, he also realised that the growing fascist movement in Italy and the National Socialism movement in Germany were gathering steam. Having a stronghold for that sort of thinking on this side of the Atlantic was unacceptable to Roosevelt, even for a country that was exhausted from a protracted war.

"What should we do about it, Mr. President?"

"There's only one thing to do," he said. "Let's see if that Douglas MacArthur's worth what he says he is." The Secretary looked at Roosevelt with growing shock hitting his features like a tidal wave.

"Surely you can't mean another declaration of war? We've just been through a long one."

"If we give Doug MacArthur enough money and tools, it may not take as long as either of the first wars," Roosevelt said. "Basically, we're going to have to strike fast and strike hard. It's going to involve the Army of the Potomac and it's going to involve a modern version of the Anaconda Plan, but if we play our cards right, we can recapture the South."

"The First Civil War took four years Mr. President. We've just been through another grueling war six years ago. How the hell are we going to fight and win this time after the last war?"

"We're going to have to use the element of surprise," Roosevelt said. "We've got mechanised units including 37 mm tank guns and those new 50 mm tank guns. If we can get Congress to authorise a new building programme that will at least match what the Krauts are doing, maybe we can outstrip the Confederates and force them to at least drop their fascist ambitions. I have another idea, however."

"What's that?"

"Offer asylum to any Negroes who would be displaced by this fascist movement. Condemn their savage ways, and then see if we can get some of those Negroes to sabotage the industrial capacity that's still there and leave them weakened enough for us to make our move. We're going to have to move quickly to get this done, but it can be done."

The Secretary shook his head.

"I don't know about this, Mr. President. The Republicans almost won control of the House of Representatives and they look like they're about to win control of the Senate. Your New Deal programmes are teetering on the edge of failure as it is, and you want to throw something else at the American people?"

Roosevelt's eyes bore into the Secretary.

"I'm well aware of all of that," he said. "But I don't think the Confederacy is going to be ready for us to hit them. They'll think we're still licking our wounds from '32. If this works, we'll kill that fascist movement before it gets off the ground."

The Secretary shook his head in disbelief, but he knew he wasn't going to convince Roosevelt of anything. He couldn't help the thought that Congress wouldn't buy his scheme.

OOC: Looking good, guys. Sarz, if you've talked it over with Jagonia then my apologies, but you should wait for him to name his PM before saying 'Churchill'. The man may never have been elected in E38.

OOC: Looking good, guys. Sarz, if you've talked it over with Jagonia then my apologies, but you should wait for him to name his PM before saying 'Churchill'. The man may never have been elected in E38.OOC: Understandable, though I went a little ways with Churchill as sort of a shadowy government figure who would somehow have the ear of FDR. I've been casting Churchill as sort of an instigator within the British government who's trying to get the U.S. into the war.

[OOC: Already wanting to bring me back into the fold? Dang it...well I won't go quietly into the night.]

Atlanta, Georgia

The city of Atlanta was smouldering. The White population was protested the fact that negros stilled lived in the Confederacy, as if their existance was a curse upon the people. Most of the negros in the city had already been forcifully rounded up by local authorites and thrown into make-shift prisons. Though fortunes for the white population had changed when the negros began fighting back, breaking out of their prisons and charging against the whites. Altanta was quickly decending into violence. Though luckily, the whites had kept the one part of their city in control that Richmond wanted--the Industrial Sector.

The negros controlled most of the entrances in and out of Altanta and were attempting to starve the white's pocket holes of resistance. That was until from the distance, the Stars and Bars appeared. Hundreds, if not thousands, of young and old men in halftracks appoarched the city, stopping a few hundred yards. One of the halftracks carried a very important person, Malcolm Anderson who was going to witness the first ever assault by the Vanguard. A man in grey uniform walked up and saluted Malcolm.

"Sir, your orders?" asked the older man.

"Carry out your plans Colonel," said Malcolm annoyed.

The man, now indentified as a colonel, saluted and immiedately began shouting out orders. The troops unloaded from the haltracks and immiedately began to form up into ranks as seargants and majors kicked and pushed them into their correct positions. This was time consuming, taking almost twenty minutes. Though once they were in formation they looked like stonewalls. The colonel marched up and down the long line of men attempting to inspect them. In normal military situtations what was occuring would have never occured, but since this was negros and they were unarmed (for the most part) the Confederates were taking their time. With the troops in formation the Colonel moved behind the formation to Malcolm and other military offiers.

"Send the 2nd Regiment forward first. Have them attempt to break the negros as soon as possible. Then send the 3rd and 4th in in a sweeping tactic. And then send the 1st in to round up the negros and place them under arrest?" said the colonel.

"Though Colonel Truman, upon what grounds shall we arrest the negros? Its clear they're only defending themselves?" stated a captain.

"Arrest them upon the grounds that their skin is not white," said Colonel Truman with a stone face.

With all the legalities worked out the plan went into motion. The 2nd immiedately broke into their battle formations and began rushing towards the negro barracades. Immiedately rocks began to be throw and the Confederates could see the negros picking up tools and debris for weapons. Occationally some gunfire would ring out, but no losses on the Confederate side so far. Once they got within very close range the Confederates opened up with a merciless wave of gunfire. The makeshift barracades the blacks made was quickly shot to peices and several of them fell. The 2nd continued onwards until they disappeared into the city. Then the 3rd and 4th immiedately rushed forward and enter the city. Once they also disappeared more gunfire could be heard.

In side the city the battle was one-sided at most places as the Vanguard were better armed and better trained than the revolting negros. The negros attempted to make the warfare more urban by retreating into houses and thu using gurilla tactics the speed at which the Vanguard advanced force many of them to abandon this plan. Vanguard casualities were light for the most part as they moved threw the city, liberating one pocket of whites after another until eventually with all hope of victory lost, the negros surrendered.

The 1st was never needed as the 2nd and 4th did most of the fighting and arresting. During the arresting and imprisoning the blacks were astonished that their charge of crime was not being white. With the city subdued, Malcolm decided to take a look around to see what kind of damage was done, he noticed the Vanguard stayed well away from the Industrial Sector to ensure the cities vital industries were not damaged, though in residental and even service sectors they let loose and in these places negro losses were the highest. After inspecting the city Malcolm went to the makeshift prisons outside of town; upon arriving he was surprised to see the thousands of negros as it took all of the 1st and 2nd battalions to police them properly.

"All these negros...it would be utterly impossible to deport them all. Out whole navy would be tied up attempting to preform this task. There must be a better way," stated Malcolm thinking as he scanned the camp with his eyes. Then a single word rang out in his mind--Industry. His mind sprang into a deep mode of thought as he realized what could be done. These blacks could be put into labor camps, run by the Vanguard and they would be the industrial capacity for part of the overall Confederate industry. This would mean virtual slavery, but Malcolm was sure the Propaganda center would make the people and the world see it differently.

OOC: Churchill isn't my PM, it's Hendricus Colijn at the moment. And we aren't Britain, more the BBF or the Federation.

OOC: Understandable, though I went a little ways with Churchill as sort of a shadowy government figure who would somehow have the ear of FDR. I've been casting Churchill as sort of an instigator within the British government who's trying to get the U.S. into the war.

OOC: Sorry, which war? We're not fighting the second world war here, unless of course we do :D, it's just era.

Camp Grant, Central Mississippi

The train roared as he chugged threw the woods of central Mississippi towards its destination, the already infamous Camp Grant. Booker Riddle couldn't hide the fact that he was angry, nay in a rage as he sat in his seat by the window. Ever since the black uprising in Atlanta which was put down by the now ominipresent Vanguard units all blacks across the South were rapidly being rounded up and shipped off to undisclosed locations. The offical government reason behind this mass interment was that the events in Atlanta were linked to several other small scale crimes committed by blacks which lead the government to believe there was a black rebellion in the works and thus all blacks were being taken to dentention camps so that the rebellious ones could be rooted out. They even added that there the blacks would be given tempoary jobs at miniumum wage so as to compensate for the finances losts during internment. Though few blacks in South even believed that, and those who did were either white sympathizers hoping to get off easy or they were clearly fools. Though the wheels of slavery had begun rolling and stopping them was nearly impossible.

The train suddenly began to slow down as Booker noticed a building in the distance and two very large doors on it swinging open with tracks leading into the facility. He then sighed, he'd hoped the ride would never stop but it had in fact began its last run. Soon his world would be completely turned on its head and his would enter a rather difficult part of his life, a part he didn't much care for. As the train went threw the opened gateway, Booker couldn't help but notice the poor conditions of the camps. It wasn't the long wooden cabins, or the high gates with barbwire, or the dozens of Vanguard soldiers patroling everywhere, and it wasn't even the rather large factories off in the distance that how towers of smoke pouring out of it. It was all the black people standing in the camp with a look on their face a look of lost hope. Those looks would bring an unhardened man to his knees in tears, prehaps even sending a man in mental collapse if he knew he was soon going to be like that. In fact, a few men and a lot of women were crying. The train came to a complete stop and three white men in grey uniforms entered the compartment with a cold look on their face. One of them, appearing to be the commander turned to the other two.

"Get them off quickly," he stated. The other reached down and began pulling men and women out of their seats and forcing them out of the train. Some resisted and would quickly beaten into submission with the butt ends of guns or with simple punches and kicks. By the time they got to Booker resistance was so fierce that they expected him to resist also, and raised their fists to him. He was rather old, being in his mid-forties, he knew he couldn't hope to resist so he gave up rather peacefully by raising his hands and quietly standing up. Despite his peaceful resignation he was shoved forward by one of the men. As Booker exited the train he noticed few of the people who resisted on the train dared to resist in the open as Vanguard units had their guns trained on them as all blacks were generally rounded up and put into a circle with the Vanguards standing around them. From amoung the line two troopers moved and up walked a rather old man, plump which showed Booker he eat rather well, and was decorated from head to toe with a fancy Civil War uniform.

"You people are not wanted here, I am disguised by you just as much as the rest of the white people in this great land," stated the unknown man, "I am General Writey and for the next few weeks I shall be in charge of your negros. Be greatful we do not outright kill you as I have suggested hundreds of times to my superiors."

He stared directly as Booker before he continued, "While you are here you will do manual labor, you will be content, and you will not raise fuss over the conditions of these camps. Consider yourselves fortunate you are not at some of the more, inferior, camps where some negros are. Now if you will be so kind as to follow orders, and live in peace. You will be released shortly."

He then spoke quietly to another officer and then left. That officer then began shouting orders and the Vanguard units closed in around the negros and began shoving them towards one of the long log cabins. Booker, again turned to peaceful resignation over futile resistance, quick earned him only a shove which he considered to be better then being pushed to the ground and them brutally beat into submission, a choice which many of the younger men were choosing. As they appoarched the cabin one of the Vanguard units unlocked the door and the negros went inside--peacefully or not. Booker immiedately felt like a soldier as the bests were but mats on the floor, with some basic hyegine equipment such as a toothbrush, floss, and even a bowl and spoon. He made his way towards one of the mats and stood while the rest of the blacks were shoved into the cabin. Once they were all inside the door was shut and locked and darkness fell over the cabin with only tiny bits of light coming threw holes in the wall and from spaces between the door and the walls.

Booker sighed, this was much worst than he expected.