NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is part NATO strategy session and part character RP. I thought it'd provide a nice change from "I move 3 Divisions to Benghazi and set up a defense in depth, and then I add a bunch of random observations to turn it into an interesting post" like Dark Continent is becoming. I don't mean to kvetch, because I enjoy that a lot. This is just something different. NATO members only, please.
Note: As we discussed, I'm playing Roycelandia until he gets back. As a corollary, I speak for his officers at the meeting. Unless that needs to change?

The Pentagon

A monument to the architectural style of the 1940s, 50s and 60s, was characterized first and foremost by its utter lack of charm, grace or even imperial power. The floors of linoleum failed to click like proper marble or echo like hardwood, the halls made of cheap pasteboard and painted with cream inspired crushing anonymity and boredom. Apart from a few of the nicer offices, no paintings or busts decorated the building. A few public hallways were panelled with faux-mahogany, but this was the exception rather than the rule. It was a titanic office building within which the armed forces of the most powerful nation on earth did their paperwork.

General Sir Jack Jones was not hugely impressed. He had been to the Pentagon before, and he'd never liked it much. Horse Guards, the headquarters of the British Army, was much more to his liking. It had a parade ground, for starters, and its offices and halls were definitely built with Imperial Glory in mind. The Pentagon... was built by an administrator for the purposes of administrators. That was being charitable.

Sir Jack sat in one of the more impressive meeting rooms-- that is, it had a table made of wood rather than formica, and the fluorescents were hidden behind somewhat tasteful fairings of brass. He and his staff, dressed in the drab olive of the British Army and the black of the Royal Navy, faced a similar team of Quinntonians in blue, spruce green and khaki. The Germans formed a wall of grey and black on another side of the great pentagonal table that reflected both the geometry of the building and of the alliance, their uniforms a tasteful blend of German military tradition and aversion to the Nazis that had made Feldgrau famous. Roycelandian officers in their crimson and white, a blatant and slightly awkward copy of the old British dress uniforms, smoked cigars or pipes in blatant violation of the no-smoking rules. Ash trays had been provided for their convenience, and the smoke detectors had been turned off. Anything for the alliance, even smelly upholstery. The Japanese, looking reserved in their slightly modified Quinntonian uniforms and with characteristically neat files before them, observed it all silently. On the wall behind the Quinntonians-- and indeed behind all of the forces, were projected four iterations of the same map for easy viewing by all parties. Currently, the maps showed the political situation for the entire globe, their customizable functions not yet put to use.

"Gentlemen," Sir Jack said evenly. "And ladies," he nodded at the few women in attendance, "we seem to be faced with a very complex set of challenges at the moment, which many in my government feel could lead to war." The statement was made calmly; these were military officers and they had trained for all their lives to fight for their nations. The politicians were elsewhere in Washington, hammering out political favours and sacrifices necessary to make NATO function in wartime. "We've got overwhelming military force on our side," Sir Jack nodded subtly at the Quinntonians, "and a lot of resources." This time, a gesture to the Roycelandians. "We've got economic might," a wave at the Japanese and Germans, "and a great deal of experience." No wave. The British would provide the experience. After all, they'd held an empire longer than any society now existing. Who would argue with that?

"On the other hand, we're outnumbered and we have an unfortunate set of alliances outside of this one," a quick glance at the Roycelandians, whose longtime dealings with the French had made them something of a black sheep with the British until Strathairn had been forced to do the same as they. "We are also overcommitted in Africa, and the British Empire doesn't have sufficient force to press a ground war without significant aid from all nations here." A special look to the Quinntonians and Roycelandians, whose spear and shaft co-operation had worked in the past. The United States' technological marvels and the Roycelandians' long experience in holding territory could make for a crushing combination, when used correctly.

"We also don't have any sort of clear military command, and to adequately prepare for war we'll need one immediately. I believe you all have my proposal in this area?" He referred to the sheet on their desks. "You'll note that I've suggested the United States hold the post of Supreme Allied Commander, Nato Forces (SACNAF). My apologies to the Self Defence Force for the slight, but you'll note that Britain didn't get a supreme command in any area either. We will, of course, work together to direct strategy. The decisions will come down to the SACNAF, whomever he might be, but we can certainly co-operate on formulating plans."

"Now you'll also note that I've assigned command sectors, again suggestions," Jones perused his copy, momentarily forgetting the order of things. "Britain will have supreme command of African operations--"

"Pah!" A Roycelandian officer, by his stripes a full general, interjected. "Not that the Emperor has colonies on continent, or anything," he said acidly. Jones gave him a quelling look, which failed rather to quell. The British general leaned forward, his forearms on the table.

"I'm well aware of that, General Rawlins. The reason that His Majesty's government proposes British control in Africa is that Britain, not Roycelandia, currently holds the Suez Canal, Gibraltar, and the border with Libya. We're closer to the front than you are, with respect, and we feel that command can better be accomplished from Cairo or the S-S Line than it can from REA." The Roycelandian looked askance at the Quinntonians. One diplomatic hurdle down...

"Roycelandia, for obvious geographical reasons, will command any operations in South America." This seemed to mollfy Rawlins and his cohort a bit. "German officers will be responsible for any actions in Europe. Japanese officers will deal with combat in East Asia, either sea or land, and Quinntonian officers will handle any combat that reaches the Indian Ocean or the Subcontinent, as well as holding SACNAF position. Supreme Allied Command should probably be based in Germany or Britain, which mixes the advantages of being close to the front with the need for defensibility and the benefits of established, friendly infrastructure.

"I further propose that this system remain in effect during peacetime, since war is as we know not always declared with the first attack. Accordingly, we shall have a political oversight committee of some kind, but I'll leave that to the people best suited for it." Sir Jack referred, of course, to the politicians meeting down the long hall. "It might also be wise to form a NATO reaction force made up of a division from each of the allied states, but I think we ought to table this particular aspect until we've hammered out command and strategy." That was his seque.

"Now," Sir Jack pushed his chair back and stood, moving to the map behind him. Other officers, Germans and Japanese whose view of the map he had chosen was poor, swiveled their chairs and resettled themselves. "The strategic situation is this. Britain," he gestured and a cordon of pink divisions appeared on the screen, a mix of mechanized infantry and armour. "Is deployed along the Egyptian border with Libya. Our previous affiliation with the Egyptian government has given us fairly extensive access to their infrastructure.

"The Soviets are bottled up in India, although I do not expect this to last. Their forces number roughly 200,000 by best estimates, which is overwhelming by comparison to Britain's 60,000 on continent. Roycelandian units should in time be able to even and eventually reverse this numerical disparity, but without a war on our hands we might lack just cause in doing so. Still, I recommend that a number of your divisions in REA be put on alert for transit northward, while the rest of your force deploys to cover your colonies in Africa.

"In South America we can muster almost overwhelming force within weeks, and I advocate that we do so immediately in the event of war so as to cut oil supplies from the Neo-Anarchan states. The Union", he indicated the new fascist state to the south, "has agreed to support a combined Roycelandian and British drive on the Neo-Anarchan soviets, which should probably prove to be enough of a crushing blow to drive them out of the continent entirely. We will, of course, face an insurgency, but I feel comfortable in saying that the Roycelandians and British will handle it.

"Sea combat will be the combined duty of all the nations, but I think our first goal must be to make the Caribbean and Mediterranean seas untenable for Soviet shipping. The United States and Roycelandian Navies are best placed to handle things in the Americas; Britain will give support as able. Britain and Germany can control the Mediterranean. Japan and the United States, again with some help from Britain, will be responsible for Asian waters. Does this seem acceptable, gentlemen?"

[Insert appropriately witty comment]

I love Roycelandians!

Where is Roycelandia? Not that you aren't doing a good job and all with the Roycelandians, just curious.

I don't think the Mauritius are invited, are they? So I guess I must merely watch from a omniscient third-person perspective.

OOC: I wasn't aware that Mauritius was in NATO. Um, I do know that we've a large number of smaller satellite states (Greece, I guess Mauritius, Canada etc.) but we're discussing grand strategy here... Hm. No slight intended, obviously.

Feel free to have an observer/representative if you want. Royce is off getting married/honeymooning/not doing AMW, for which we can't really blame him.

OOC:

It wasn't, however I suppose it could've been invited since it is more like, from your perspective at least, the 'rightful' Austrian governmen, merely in exile. So I guess I can show...

Eh, I suppose not, I'm the last that should be complaining about RL interfering with AMW.

A page came up behind Herr Luder, the senior General for the Germans, leaned and whispered something in his ear. Herr Luder frowned, stood up, and shouted something in German to the generals. One by one the German generals rose up from their seats and began leaving the room. Herr Luder remained behind and interrupted whoever was speaking.

Herr Luder Gives His Opinion

"Mine apologies gentlemen but I require your attention. When our presence was requested here we did not realize the nature the discussions would take. As you know, the Holy League occupies enormous swathes of Africa and every day that they remain they consolidate their hold on the poor peoples of Africa. Germany will never go to war against the Soviets if it means protecting the Holy League's possessions. Must I remind you gentlemen that as a condition to Germany's pending entrance into NATO, Germany will not support any mission which either supports or is supported by the Holy League? Germany has stated it then and we continue to hold to it now. Germany will not be a party to any talks against the Soviets if it means supporting the unsanctified league. I have not seen any serious plans for dealing with the Holy League threat and Germany will not support efforts against the Soviets until we are shown serious concrete proposals that treat this threat with the attention and gravity it deserves.”

“Furthermore, Germany has been and will always be opposed to the colonization of the African peoples by NATO and we are concerned that NATO involvement in Africa will hasten the colonization of the African peoples. Not only by the Holy League but also by NATO. Like other former superpowers, Germany was once a colonizing power and believed in the White Man’s Burden just like everyone else, but unlike some, we refuse to revert back to older errant ways. European presence on Africa has always been followed by exploitation and we have not received sufficient assurances that this will be any different this go round. The African people have had enough “experience” with experienced colonizers and experience with its return to the status quo is the last thing that is needed now. Why should Germany become embroiled in a war to maintain the status of colonizers in Africa? Pandering to the Holy League has become a national sport in certain countries but will Germany sink to these levels? Absolutely not. Has Germany conducted outside arms deals with the Holy League? No. If NATO countries continue to pander to the Holy League I say we kick them out NATO and let the other imperialist powers come to their defense.”

“As for the command structure idea, I say it is a detestable idea. As commander of the German Armed Forces I will not allow a single German soldier to serve as cannon fodder for preservation of some nation’s imperial industrial complex. This attempt to focus NATO on protecting imperial interests in Africa is entirely out of line from the original intention of NATO, which was the protection and preservation of NATO countries against aggressors. It was not formed to facilitate the mad dash to annex large imperialistic empires. As things stand, not one German soldier will serve under one of these so called ‘Supreme Commanders’. This new purposed command structure is just an excuse from some member countries to get support for their foolish godless desire for more wealth and power. Hmpf! The headquarters for the new structure of NATO should be based not in London or Berlin but in Kinshasa, Congo to reflect some people’s desires to develop personal fiefdoms.”

“It is telling that certain people are counseling cooperation with a third world crackpot dictator to attack peaceful Neo-Anarchan states. Neo-Anarchan states have long had a strong relationship with our friends Quinntopians and to counsel their annexation is driven by two things. Greed. Sheer greed driven by a powerful imperial military complex. The second driver for these propositions may not be obvious to you but it is obvious to me, Jack and the devil. It is one thing to defend against an Igovian puppet state in Guyana but quite another to aggressively go out and unleash the horrors of war upon undeserving people.”

With that Herr Luder smashes his fist on the table and then coldly looks across the room to the British General Sir Jack Jones and says,

“Mr. Jack you are a child of the devil and an enemy of everything that is right! You are full of all kinds of deceit and trickery. If you continue to promote your master’s agenda by promoting war all over the world and entering into unholy alliances may God deal with me, Herr Luder, be it ever so severely if the next time we meet I do not lay my hands upon you and strike the fear of God into you. ”

By this time, the rest of the German delegation had left the meeting area and were waiting a short distance outside for Herr Luder to meet them. Herr Luder picked up the rest of his things and stormed towards the door. His face was red and was clenching his fists tightly. Should anyone other than a Quinntopian attempt to stop this five foot eleven two hundred pound general they would receive a fist in response.

Jack Jones went cold about midway through the German's rant. He was the son of a blacksmith who had enlisted in the 21st Rifle regiment during the Second World War, and he'd been there to open the door-- six years old-- to receive the pair of lieutenants and the telegram. Fifteen years later he'd joined the British Army. He had fought in Korea, in Vietnam and in Palestine. He had gained his knighthood in the Palestinian policing action, fighting to establish the state of Israel. He had been stationed in Germany for three years, and he remembered his garrison duty there fondly. Germans, he recalled, were good people. He found it hard to hate them, even after his father had died on Sword Beach.

No imperialist himself, Jones remembered the mad dash to rid the British of their unfashionable empire in the 50s and 60s, the violent partitioning of India into three states and the almost criminal haste with which his country had departed Africa, leaving that continent ill equipped to govern itself. He particularly remembered the Suez crisis, which had gone badly for all involved when a political blunder resulted in Britain's monumental snub by the United States. His views on Britain's imperial past were varied, but he was certainly not party to any plot by a 'military industrial complex', whatever that was.

There were things that one simply didn't do, particularly at strategy meetings. He listened to General Luder's argument with growing irritation, then outrage, at the laundry list of unfounded accusations the German heaped upon his government. His hand grasped the arm of his chair, and the other British officers beside him looked equally mutinous. Herr Luder's speech was not one keyed to endear his nation to an ally. As the German wound down, Jones stood up again and pushed his chair in slowly.

"Sir, I find your accusations baseless and vile. I find your tone and your insinuations insulting both to myself and to the honour of my king." His voice was low and dangerous, fury held back by decades of ingrained military discipline. "I remind you that four thousand of our men, women and children are dead because of the French scum, and I will note that Germany, unlike Quinntonia or even Hindustan, one of those nations that you call 'Soviet', did not come to our side. For a supposed ally, you and yours have been remiss and cowardly. If Germany is so high and mighty as to be above serving in an alliance, I can't say that I'd relish the thought of fighting at your side.

"Call on your second, sir," he said. There was a quiet shifting amongst the British officers; most of them had expected Jones to challenge the German after that little speech, but very few had really thought he'd do it. "I demand satisfaction."

There was a sort of quiet awkwardness in the interior room of the Pentagon. People shifted back and forth uneasily, the Roiks and the British in particular. Both peoples knew the meaning behind a challenge like that-- it was a challenge to the German's honour. In that sense, it was a challenge to his very personhood, whether he was fit to wear the uniform of his country or call himself a military man. He might not know that, certainly duelling wasn't part of modern Germany's military traditions, but he would be able to tell that it meant something to the infuriated Sir Jack Jones and his equally enraged staff.

"I say then, chaps," a Roycelandian colonel interjected with an uncomfortable smile. "Who wants a spot of tea?"

The Quinntonian staff that was sitting there, which included the legendary Four Star General Lee Gemby, who had and still was commanding the entire South-East Asian theatre, and their mouths simply dropped open when the German officer started on his insane rant. And jut when they thought that it couldn’t get any more ridiculous in here, it became apparent that the Limey had challenged the Kraut to a duel! These were not out of shape men, they were both fit and ready for a fight, but they were not spring chickens. The Quinntonians simply shook their heads, with many of them veterans of the conflict in Dra-pol, they simply knew the realities of the situation that they were walking into, and couldn’t understand why anyone would want to torpedo this whole operation. This did not bode well for the whole thing. General Gemby stood up, supporting his elderly frame with his cane and rasped out, “Gentlemen, please. The sitting members of NATO and SEATO here cannot have this sort of behaviour occurring. Japan, Roycelandia, Canada, and ourselves simply need to re-examine this situation. The United Kingdom is a tricky situation as you are, through Australia, members of SEATO, but Britain is not a member of NATO as of yet, only an applicant like Germany. If we are to go forward, we cannot have anyone making rants and staging walk-outs on the eve of war, and we cannot have senior commanders duelling eachother. For the sake of the Lord Christ look at yourselves! You are acting like fools. I suggest that you immediately deal with this and come back to the table, or the membership needs to discuss how we are going to proceed. And I do mean WE!” With that, the session was recessed so that people could cool off.

In the meantime, British blackberries start to go off, with Quinntonian diplomats wondering if making this a joint SEATO/NATO mission would perhaps solve the problem. With that, the UK could come in under the SEATO agreement with Australia and we could bypass this Germany/UK pissing match. With that, the USQ could use this as a way with which to work with the UK and if Germany proves to be immovable, USQ can work with them on an ad hoc basis.

WWJD
Amen.

"General Gemby--" Jack Jones launched into the Quinntonian officer, his longtime colleague and a man who he deeply respected, with much the same fury as he had the German commander before cutting himself off. He took a deep breath, flushed pink, and then visibly calmed. "I suppose you're right," he said at length with a self-deprecating laugh. "Please excuse an old man and his even older cultural baggage." He spared Herr Luder another acidic look before resuming his seat. "Perhaps we should take a short recess, as the General suggests. With your permission, Mr. Gemby?"

The British officers, relieved that they wouldn't have to witness the spectacle of their commander duelling with a ceremonial sword on the Washington Mall, picked up their blackberries and scanned the Quinntonian message. This really wasn't their show; the Imperial General Staff's duties didn't cover foreign policy. The Quinntonian officers were cornered during the ensuing mix of uniforms and told that while the General Staff was pleased with the idea, the final approval would have to come from the prime minister's office.

A trio of Roycelandian officers, generals and admirals, found Sir Jack Jones stewing over his coffee. It was a distinctly American drink, and he wasn't quite sure that he approved, but he drank it anyway and was grateful for the buzz of energy it gave him.

"General Jones?" One of the Roycelandians, looked like a field marshal from the ridiculous amount of gold braid, looked him squarely in the eye. "I think I should let you know some things, if you plan on joining NATO. See, we've got a similar code duello in Port Royal, but we don't ever challenge the Quinntonians or the bloody Canucks at these meetings, even if Gemby can be a right prick. You've got to understand, they don't have the same ideas of... civilization as we do, they see the whole business as institutionalized murder. Quite barbaric, not to be able to challenge a man for insulting King and Country, you might say, but that's how it is.

"So, we understand where you're coming from, but in all likelihood General Gemby and his staff don't. Probably best not to challenge anyone else?"

Washington, D.C.
With wartime production coming up, and just as the commitment was made to enter Africa, Dra-pol, the eternal enemy of the USQ and all free peoples, seemed ready to unleash its psychotic fury upon the world again. PM Moerike was sitting at her desk in the Oval Office, across from the two living legends from Quinntonia’s storied and glorious past. Both were very old men, one a tireless worker of peace, another, a military man who had faced every Quinntonian enemy since WW2 as a young officer. This was Bishop-Governor Gerry Westgaard, and General Lee Gemby. Governor Westgaard was a minor military chaplain who just happened to be assigned to the shore party that brought Quinntonians and Dra-poel into conflict. He had felt guilty for that conflict and the deaths that ensued, but had brokered a peace and modernisation, the most massive missionary project in Quinntonia’s history, only to look into the face of pure evil when his peace process was used to brutally murder the over 100,000 aid workers that were in Dra-pol, watching for the first time in modern history thousands upon thousands of good Christians die on the cross. And then the real fight began, another 150,000 civilians were killed over the years of fighting, and another 100,000 Dra-poel in Quinntonian Dra-pol of various war-related causes. And then there were the military deaths; over two million Dra-poel, their lives needlessly wasted in massed human wave attacks on well-defended positions, not to mention the some 300,000 allied Hindustani, South Korean, Quinntonian, Canadian and Quinntonian troops. Yes, the death and carnage was worse than anything he could possibly conceptualise. And he had spent the rest of his life in perpetual penance, attempting to erase his guilt with massive acts of humanitarianism and good governance of the most gracious people on Earth, the Dra-poel of Quinntonian Dra-pol. They remembered the horrors of the old regime, and would never bow to them again.

The three talked, PM Moerike had already consulted with the Pentagon, the Council of Bishops, her Party and Cabinet, and every expert she could find on the subject. Now, armed with all of that knowledge, she turned to the next best thing to being able to ask Jesse Obed himself what she must do. She would ask those he trusted the most to bring his most difficult vision and commands to reality. They had talked for hours and hours by that time, and they would probably be calling for more coffee very shortly.
“There has to be some other way! This course is madness; do you not understand what you are proposing? You are proposing a conflict that would see Quinntonia take on the whole world! Do you know how many lives will have to be lost? Do you not realise the burden that you will be asking of your people? Even if we win, it is likely that Quinntonia will have to break itself in the effort, and have its global prestige go the way of the British Empire. Do you not see the suffering that you will unleash upon the world?”
“I know. I would rather have the people that I represent fall fighting for the right than grow fat while the rest of the world goes to pot.”
“She speaks the truth, Gerry. You may not like it, but we have all known it for some time. Look at the world, it is crumbling. The Soviets are advancing on every front; Spyr was one a beacon of hope alongside Hindustan in the Progressive Bloc, now she arms for war at a quickening pace in support of the most evil regime in the world. At best she can be seen as a buffer against the Tsarists, at worst, she remains a close a militarily powerful ally to our greatest enemy. Hindustan was always the closest ally or at least what we could call a friend in the Progressive Bloc, and though Mumbai remains a voice for calm within the Bloc, they have stated that they will stand against us if we get to close to the Subcontinent. We bled with them in Korea, for cripes sake! The British have proven to be a fair weather friend, from the reports coming out of Germany, I personally wonder if they have lost their collective minds, and Roycelandia is beginning to signal that they would like to sit this one out. We are staring a full-blown Restorationist movement that are family! Blood is thicker than water and the Tsar, though reports say that his health is failing, is the worst of the bunch - sitting on the largest nuclear stockpile in the world! Now that France controls West Africa, and it seems like the Soviets want the rest, Neo-Anarchos has collapses in on itself into their individual communes, and it looks as if the Combine is collapsing as well! With tensions between them and the Ignovians mounting, and whatever it is politically that seems to have lost any kind of coherent direction in the Combine, who knows what their future bodes! I mean, it is realistic that we could ride it out here on our continent here, but for how log, and we have to ask ourselves if we feel we have any responsibility to fight for the billions around the world that cannot fight for themselves. I know what a war like this would take to fight, let alone win, and I think that there is a reason that God has blessed us with this much power. We are to use it to help make the world better. I believe that this is the defining moment for Quinntonia. Begging your parden, but since the death of Jesse Obed, this nation has been one compromise after another. We lost all credibility on the world stage working with the Holy League. And we have stood by while the world’s people have begged us for our help! And now the monsters are awake again, now it is time for us, like St. George against the dragon, to stand in defence of the right. Mrs. Prime Minister, it is time to be bold.”

* * *

Many hours later, after securing the support of the arguably most well respected people in Quinntonia, she picked up the phone and called Versailles. Her terms were very simple.
1. France and her allies will remove themselves to their pre-war borders.
2. Quinntonia will take over the administration of the entirety of the disputed territory.
3. The African nations will then be rebuilt at Quinntonian expense, but war reparations of $50 billion USD paid over 7 years will be paid to the African states by the Bourbons.
4. If here is not immediate compliance with these terms, a state of war will exist between the USQ and the Bourbons.
5. If war comes to pass between our nations, we will not rest until every nobleman and women in Spain and France is in Quinntonian custody, with unconditional surrender the only option.

These are out terms. You have 24 hours to respond.

WWJD
Amen.

Grestovar Fortress, Luxembourg, The Grand Duchy of Tulgary

Though turning gradually to dust before the eyes of his aides, Archduke Basilius croaks a defiant note in answer to Washington's ultimatum, calling the United States the Great Satan and accusing Quinntonia of conspiring with German-sponsored Protestant radicals in eastern Tulgary against the divine mandate of the Duchy. Luxembourg also forwards in pompous and majestic terms confirmation of its strong and resolute support for the Bourbon monarchies.

In actions, however, Luxembourg is less bold, and the process of slimming-down Tulgarian personnel numbers in Africa -begun several weeks earlier after secret Franco-Soviet negotiations- hastens as the nation's two large amphibious troop ships set out from Rotterdam with empty holds. Forces once bound for Senegal have long since abandoned any hope of dislodging the Soviet Marines and the local forces they support.

Basilius, despite the apparent cowering of his forces in Africa and onset of countless life-threatening health problems, is far from done with the world.

Perhaps he amongst all leaders of the Holy League states harbours the most emphatic distaste for Protestantism, struggling as his bloodline has to maintain Catholic feudal order against a strong domestic minority calling for market and spiritual reformation. And he certainly seems to be taking up any slackening in traditional Franco-Russian suspicion of the German peoples: a new system of Liege forts is slowly taking shape, and Tulgary's limited commitment to Africa seems explainable simply by the strength of forces in eastern Luxembourg, Liege, along the Maas and the mechanised forces facing the Eems and on its canals.

The Tulgarian Ambassadors to both France and Italy receive within hours of the Quinntonian ultimatum orders to redouble investigations into the viability of new fighter acquisitions. If Tulgary's military has one especially glaring inadequacy it is the air force's reliance on early-mark F-16 jets, familiar to the Quinntonians and their likely allies even if they weren't horribly out of date.

The former of the two Ambassadors is also tasked with gently informing Versailles of the Archduke's belief that, in light of the developments of the last two years of valiant campaigning, European matters must be resolved before West Africa can be taken, and then quietly drawing the King's attention to the delightfully chaotic situations elsewhere on the dark continent, both in the Horn -where Aiyana's presence gives the League legitimate interests- and in the deepest Congo, where, it seems, petty African governments -some of them socialists- are turning on each other.

Palace of the Holy Citadel, Roma, Roman Empire

The day had started out so well, it was a cool, sunny day outside, Caesar Romulus woke well rested and ready for another day of fighting Soviet pagans and the Senate had remained pleasantly quiet yesterday, as it should. But the news of the Quinntonian ultimatum could not have been worse news to Roman ruler. Romulus sat in his office with three of the most important men in the country. Senator Decimus Servilius Severus, the current leader of the Roman economy, Princep Senatus Lucius Catulus and the Archbishop Apius Pontis, representative of the Roman Catholic Church to Rome.

"Caesar," Pontis began, "we must support Tulgary's condemnation of Quinntonia, as well as France, no matter what her decision may be."

"No, no, no," Severus cried out, "we can't alienate Quinntonia! If they go to war against us, NATO will not be far behind, and that includes our radical warmongering neighbors up north! Our resources stretched to the limits as it is, we don't have the strength to fight both the Soviets and NATO, let alone Quinntonia! It is folly! We must make a call for reason and cool heads to prevail in this situation! It's our only choice for our survival! My lord, we have 350 000 troops rolling through France and Spain, heading for Gibraltar to make their way into Africa, we must call those men back! Bring them home and we will then have over six hundred thousand men guarding our borders! We must think of ourselves here!"

"Lucius," Romulus said, turning his chair to face the Princep, "what say you about this matter?"

"My lord, their is opportunity hidden within this great danger that now faces us. Unlike the Senator, I feel that we must think of our allies in this situation. The Grand Duchy has sent ambassadors requesting as to the availability of our modern fighters. I'm sure Senator Decimus won't deny the opportunity that faces us in exporting the T-65 Actis fighter. We cannot deny the boost that the extra cash from such a purchase would give us, though offered at a discounted price for such an ally in need. We must also show our support to our ally in France and not call those troops back home.

"However we must also turn an eye to our own borders. Germany is far too close to let me sleep easily ever since Gunter Shultz was elected. Yugoslavia has gone to Quinntonia in hopes of repairing relations and if we got to war with the USQ, they will certainly be more forgiving of Marshal Lav than in the current political climate. This worries me just as much as fighting the Soviets and NATO."

Romulus nodded slowly, "I am inclined to agree, Lucius. Contact the Tulgary ambassador, tell him that the T-65, as well as the Tornado, are available to him should he want them. Have our troops continue to Gibraltar, but don't send them onto African soil pending the French decision. Then send a missive to both the USQ and France:

"We will support France in whatever decision King Louis will make, but we greatly dislike the idea of war with the USQ."

Senator Severus and the Archbishop were not completely happy about Caesar's decision, Romulus could tell that between the two, Severus disliked it the most. But there was no more debate. The only really happy person was Lucius Catulus, as happy as could be expected anyway.

"Thank you very much gentlemen. That is all."

Hail Caesar!

The massive Tsar sat upon his golden throne, with his blood red robe shrouded over his titanic shoulders as he glared out from under his gigantic brow. He could see his breathe escaping from his cruel lips and his scraggly beard that left him with the look of a prophet. This room was kept cold so that he could wear his full set of plate armour in comfort, and so that his servants and all those who came to him would shudder in hi presence, as it as only right to do. Before him was his First Minister, in his red, fur lined and floor length robes, along with his tall, fur Boyar’s hat that kept hi warmer than most. Of course, the long haired nobleman also had a battery operated heating pad next to his skin to fight the sub-zero temperatures and appear cool and collected during these meetings, Wingert knew, but allowed Armand to continue his charade a little while longer. Armand was prattling on about the things of state. Wingert Groznyy was somewhat relieved to have this insignificant worm to do his bidding and handle the affairs of state so competently so that he might concentrate on things more fitting his divinely granted wisdom. But what’s this? Suddenly snapped from his bored reverie he hears Armand sum up, “And so the USQ has given them 24 hours to respond, which is 18 hours from now. Tulgary and Rome have already responded with their fullest support, what would your Imperial Majesty suggest that the course of the House of Groznyy be?”

A smile almost escapes from the mighty Tsar’s cruel countenance when he responds, “An attack on the Tsar is an act of war, is it not? And an attack on the Tsar’s family is the same as an attack on the Tsar. And an attack on a man’s property is the same as an attack on the man. Thus, any attack on France is an attack on the King of France, my son-in-law, and thus an attack on me, and will see my righteous wrath flare forth in vengeance!” The Tsar was bellowing now, the few administrators in the darkened corners of the grey room were not now shaking from the cold, but from fear. “Place the Pacific Fleet on fullest alert, and call up the reserves of the Divine Russian Army! Prepare to defend our friends in France, Tulgary and Rome if need be, and signal that we will begin by launching aerial and naval bombardments on Alaska, which by the right of St. Herman of Alaska should be under Tsarist rule, and allow for another naval group to move to attack Quinntonian bases elsewhere in the Pacific. Put our strategic bomber fleet to air as soon as is possible, and be ready. Signal this intention to our allies as well as our enemies.”

Armand gasped, realising that the Pacific Fleet, while more than ready with aerial support to bombard the Alaskan coastline, was in no position to take the fight to the rest of the Pacific, seeing as how the Quinntonian 7th Fleet was based there, and probably capable of sinking every Russian boat in the area, but knew that it was useless at this point to argue. “Yes, your Imperial Majesty.”

Tsar Wingert the Great.

British Embassy, Washington D.C.

Lucky that Christina Lloyd, Foreign Secretary of the United Kingdom, had been in Washington for the abortive NATO conference. Things had gone... strangely, with Germany's flat refusal to participate in any sort of military co-operation and Britain's almost epic snub by the Quinntonian general. On the other hand, she couldn't help but agree with Mr. Gemby's assessment of Sir Jack Jones' behaviour, and had taken the chief of the Imperial General Staff to task over the whole business. In most governments, a foreign secretary would have no particular authority over her nation's top military command, but this was Strathairn's Britain and she was Strathairn's girlfriend. Even in a first world, industrialized nation, who you knew mattered at least as much as what your job description was.

She suppressed a smile. It wouldn't do to be grinning for no reason where someone might see, and question her sanity. God only knew, she had enough trouble to worry about without some staffer spreading rumours in this, her office's most important embassy! Christina took a sip of coffee-- vile, vile stuff that they made in D.C. Coming from an Australian living in England, not exactly the coffee capital of the world, it was a low estimation of worth indeed-- and gave her communique a quick once-over before having it sent to the relevant authorities. In typically dissembling language for diplomacy, the message praised Quinntonian willingness to stand for justice and freedom, and pledged the UK's 'undying gratitude and support' for the effort without actually committing anything. That was for a later negotiation, one which Christina didn't exactly relish.

The Quinntonian declaration was perhaps the worst-timed piece of good news that she could have received. Six or eight months ago, when the Empire was still at active war with France, Vanessa Moerike would have been a hero in Parliament and No.10 Downing St. Now, with France essentially informed that it would sit quietly on pain of total annihilation by British, Soviet and Hindustani forces, the Quinntonians were, in a manner of speaking, late to the party. Their declaration aided no one side of the new Anglo-Progressive conflict, and it put the British Empire in what might be termed 'a bit of a spot'. On the one hand, Britain's efforts to remove the French from Africa through negotiation had failed spectacularly, and the Aprilist 'Revolution' had yielded very little in terms of real results from Versailles. It seemed that overwhelming force, such as Quinntonia or Soviet India alone could provide, would be needed. If Britain was to sit this out, preferring to keep its sights set on the actively threatening Soviets, it would be all too easy for propagandists to cast Britain as a crypto-imperialist League henchman. If Britain intervened actively, its ability to defend against further Soviet incursions onto the continent-- and the inevitable 'communalizations' that would follow-- would be limited indeed. Furthermore, a fantastic amount of money and a tragic number of lives would be wasted fighting an already beaten enemy. Strathairn's government, already controversial in Britain, probably wouldn't survive the ensuing PR fiasco.

So Britain could do pretty much one thing, and that was to give as much support as possible to the Quinntonian effort without actually deploying one of the Empire's few active divisions. Currently the most popular proposition involved giving the Quinntonians free access to all of Britain's near-Africa military bases, including Gibraltar, Port Said and the rapidly expanding bases in and around Sierra Leone. The latter, of course, would require the Sierra Leonan government's consent, but that could be arranged without much fuss. The Sierra Leonans were rather friendly to Britain, and a formal request-- with all extraordinary expenses footed by the crown or the United States, of course-- would almost certainly achieve the desired result with their government.

Christina was going to have to explain this to someone, preferably someone like Ms. Moerike. The two had seemed to hit it off at an earlier conference, despite their considerably different ideas about society, dress and comportment, and Christina hoped that some of that sentiment from the first meeting had stayed with the Quinntonian Prime Minister despite the various miscommunications, diplomatic incidents and failed joint-ventures that had characterized the last year of the Special Relationship. Christina settled her nerves with another uninspiring sip of coffee and picked up the telephone. Few embassies had a direct line to the White House, but hers was a leftover from the Second World War, much like a similar line set up between No.10 and the Oval Office so that Churchill and Roosevelt could bounce ideas off of one another at all hours of the day or night. A few keypresses and a dial tone, then a ring and a voice that sounded like the Prime Minister's secretary.

"Yes, this is Christina Lloyd at the British Embassy. Might I speak to the Prime Minister when she has a few minutes?"

OOC: No need to roleplay the conversation if you don't want, although that might also be useful. Christina's just going to say what I did in this post-- that Britain can't give troops because it would reduce our defenses against Libya, but can give bases, etc.

OOC: Okay to recap the soup opera that is Germany: Shultz, the main guy in Germany appears to be in control of everything but really isn't. There are weird guys dressed in hoods who have nukes. Bruckner, ambassador guy to Greece, killed a bunch of people in a massive bombing campaign. He must have connections to a powerful group in Germany. Are they the hooded nuclear guys? Good question. A while ago, the Yugoslavian ambassador girl on a diplomatic mission to Quinntopia gets waylaid by a bunch of Eurofighters and forced to land. There she meets Arnwaltan who is doing some crazy things including the use of torture. She gets out okay but one wonders what kind of person Arnwaltan is. Is he connected with Bruckner? With the hooded nuclear guys? Good questions. It appears like Germany is falling apart at the seams and that violence may inevitable.

But not perhaps not quite yet. Here's Herr Luder, an army guy who has your best interests at heart. Or does he? Good question. Oh my brain! But don't worry. Soon all things will be revealed.

ps. no one knows about this stuff yet.

IC:


Jack Jones began talking but Herr Luder ignored the Holy League quisling and marched towards the door. When the ultimatum for “satisfaction” is stated, Herr Luder stops in his tracks. The red faced German General with tightly clenched hands turned to face the Brit. He spoke slowly and was visibly straining with the effort of controlling his anger. He did not raise his voice but spoke firmly, “Thou shall not murder”. With that he turned back towards the door and started towards it before being intercepted by several Quinntopia aides. He listened to them and then turned around to listen to General Gemby. He listened to the general’s attempt at reconciliation and shook his head when the general called him a fool.

During the recess he went over to General Gemby and tried to control his mounting anger but told the general in clear unequivocal terms that Germany would no longer be a party to this alliance because of British involvement. The Holy League is an abomination and pollutes the purity of the gospel message to millions if not billions of people worldwide. So long as the British are in bed with the unsanctified league German cooperation is impossible. He stated that Germans have watched Britain move closer and closer to unwholesome allies and it could not be tolerated any longer. Germany is out of NATO and will not participate with any military missions in which Britain is involved. However, Herr Luder was very quick to point out that relations between Quinntopia and Germany remained strong and that bilateral military exercises, without British involvement, could still be conducted in the future. He added that a deployment of an army group to South Korea was possible although it would take some time to move as reserves would have to called up to active duty in order to bolster Germany’s mounting overseas commitments.

Herr Luder and Shultz
When Herr Luder eventually got back to his room he had an aide waiting for him who told him that he was wanted on the phone. He grabbed the secure military phone and told the aide to leave the room. As soon as the aide left the room he answered the phone, “This is General Luder, go ahead.”

It was Gunter Shultz on the phone and he was none too happy. On his end Herr Luder was sweating. “No sir.... Yes sir I realize it made you look foolish... No sir...However....No sir... Yes sir....” It continued in this fashion for five more minutes until Shulz finally told Herr Luder he was dismissed. Herr Luder replied,

“What? Your joking. You can’t dismiss me.” Herr Luder laughed. “I don’t care what it says, you can’t dismiss me.” He stopped smiling. It was a long day. He was tired and he had no time for political types. He became sombre and told Shultz what was on his mind,

“Listen to me sir, and listen up real good because I’m not going to repeat myself. Who had your back when the rogue elements started pushing radiation up into the sky? Who was able to secure, without the loss of a single man, some of the dangerous items? Who supported you when the crazies delayed that plane from Yugoslavia? Listen sir, don’t forget who your talking to. I am the military and don’t you ever, even for one second, in a moment of weakness, forget that single most important fact.”

“I don’t play political games. I do the right things at the right times. Britain has become an ally for the League and I’m not going to support the League and their perversion of the gospel. Have you forgotten the cross? Have you ever really known it? If you knew it you would never tolerate their perversion of the gospel. Listen Shultz, as much as I hate to admit it. We need each other. If we want our nation to survive we have to fight together against them... Good. Let us speak no more of it then.”

With that Herr Luder ended the conservation. He shook his head and let out a long sign of relief that the day was finally over. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and went over to his desk, where he continued his unending battle against the paperwork.

He awoke from his desk and noticed the newspaper his aides had just brought in. The headline read, SHULTZ SAYS NO! and underneath in smaller printing read, No to Britain, No to the League, and No to a Perverted Gospel . Herr Luder smiled wirily.

EDIT: I'm not going to RP Germany's response to the USQ ultimatem until the whole thing gets sorted out. But remember I might not be posting about it but that doesn't mean Germany is sitting idly by eating sausage and ham waiting for the League to attack.