World War One-Act One

[steelehc]

The tall pale man in the white uniform savored his tea. He was nearly sixty, though no-one would guess it by his appearance. The blazing white of his uniform was interrupted only by the six full rows of his “salad bar” of decorations, and quartet of medals. The two Navy Crosses were flanked by a Purple Heart, and a Medal of Honor. How fine it all looked, the admiral thought. How few men made it this—
“Admiral Kedaesson?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“It’s time, sir. Everything is ready.”
“Very well.”
Admiral Erick Kedaesson followed the young officer down the passageway, and up to the flag bridge.
“Officer on Deck!” Senior Chief Leahy bellowed, and the collection of officers and sailors in the CIC snapped to attention.
“Very good,” Kedaesson said. “You are all aware of the significance of this voyage, so let’s make it a perfect one. Captain?”
“Yes, sir?” Captain Jack Lathrop answered.
“If you don’t mind, I will take her out.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I have the conn. All ahead two-thirds, course one-nine-six.”
“Ahead two-thirds, one-nine-six, aye.”

The USS Steele slowly moved out of its berth at the Washington Naval Yard. It was the newest and most powerful ship ever built anywhere in the world, and the flagship for the world’s mightiest fleet. The American Navy was back at war, for the first time in over 100 years, and for one reason. Oil. Russia and Germany, the other two superpowers, controlled the vast majority of the world’s known oil supply, and refused to sell it at a reasonable price, so the free world mobilized behind America, and went to war. The problem: America, France, China, and England share the larger of two continents. Russia and Germany share the smaller, and the seas are “treacherous for the passage of all,” as the saying goes.

The American battle-fleet was made up of the Steele, an America class Battleship, twelve Freedom class destroyers, nineteen obsolete Monitor class ironclad warships. The transport fleet was eight Olympic class transport ships, and six wooden-hulled galleons. The army being carried by this massive fleet was equally impressive. Sixteen tank divisions, twenty Cavalry divisions, twelve artillery divisions, and forty infantry divisions. The huge army had been built for one purpose: the liberating of the oil reserves of Russia and Germany. However, for it to accomplish that goal, it had to cross the ocean, and for it to do that, the Russian and German fleets had to be neutralized.

“Sir! Smoke on the horizon!”
“Let me see, Lieutenant!” The Admiral looked through his marine binoculars, and could clearly see at least seven smoke trails rising into the morning sky.
“Captain, set new course, three-two-zero, all ahead full. Sound General Quarters.”
“Aye, sir.”

All throughout the American fleet, crews raced to their stations, those on the warships in anticipation of the battle, those on the cargo ships in mortal terror. The fleet turned as one single group onto a new course, in a well-practiced move, and began to bear down on the enemy. The Admiral ordered the transport squadron to hold back, as the warships moved to intercept, and if necessary, destroy.

BOOOM!!!!!

“Eat fire, Russkies,” Gunner’s mate Jeff Levison shouted as his six-inch gun fired its first warshot.
“Got that right, pal,” agreed Lieutenant Marcus Swith, the gun captain.

The air was filled with smoke, both from engines, and gun-fire, as the American battle-fleet opened up on the Russian destroyer flotilla. After half an hour of fighting, the Russians withdrew, and the Americans returned to their original course. Casualties were numerous. One destroyer had been sunk, along with four ironclads. One destroyer had been crippled, and its coal and ammunition were off-loaded along with the crew, and it was scuttled. When the transport squadron was re-joined, however, disastrous news awaited the warships. German submarines had snuck up on the unsuspecting ships, and sunk two galleons and a transport, sending thousands of combat troops, and several hundred tanks to their watery graves.

The fleet moved on.
BOOOM!!!!

[steelehc]

I apologize for the formatting of this, it did not copy very well from MS Word. Any constructive criticism? De-constructive crticism? Hopefully none of the last.

Steele

[steelehc]

I apologize for the formatting of this, it did not copy very well from MS Word. Any constructive criticism? De-constructive crticism? Hopefully none of the last.

Steele

[steelehc]

After three more encounters with destroyers, both Russian and German, and one more run-in with German submarines, the fleet reached the coast of Germany-Russia. What had once been forty-six ships was now thirty-five, but it was still an impressive sight, especially since the once-mighty German and Russian fleets had been decimated.

The warships opened up their guns again, this time not on ships firing back at them, but on a city. The city of St. Petersburg, the most powerful stronghold in Russia. The city commanded a large bay, and controlled access to the sea for several other German and Russian cities. The ships spent weeks cruising up and down the coast, firing nearly non-stop, day and night. Whenever the Russians sent ships to stop the bombardment, they were destroyed, as they possessed nothing capable of standing up to the modern destroyers in the American fleet, let alone the Steele. After forty days and nights of shelling, the population of St. Petersburg had dropped from about two million to less the two-hundred thousand, and the military presence stationed there was abysmal. It was time to invade.

The plan was simple. The tanks and artillery were to come ashore on the hills north of town, and join in the shelling, while the seven remaining Marine divisions charged into the city. The plan was also effective. The hodgepodge of Russian troops present could barely hold a candle to the elite American Marines, and the fight was over soon. Casualties were light, relatively. Two divisions of Marines had been broken, and a third weakened substantially. The Russians had lost three divisions of riflemen, one infantry division, and five ancient units of spear-equipped militia. The rest of the army was offloaded, and the invasion continued.

The armored spearhead of the American tanks was nearly unstoppable, as they rolled through the Russian countryside, heading for Moscow, the heart of the enemy. However, within a few hundred miles of the goal, the army was diverted south, towards the oil fields, the ultimate objective. Before reaching New Berlin, the city at the heart of the oil desert, the American forces ran head-on into a brick wall.

The Germans had built an immense fortress in the hills, and garrisoned it with four infantry divisions. The tanks charged, but were repulsed, time and again. Finally, a huge assault was planned. All twelve of the artillery divisions were called into play. Shelling the fortress for days, as tanks moved to surround it, and cut it off. Meanwhile, a massed cavalry charge occupied the city of Bremen, the nearest to the fortress, and moved the German border back from the fortress, eventually replacing it with an American one. The German troops held out valiantly, but it was too much. The fort fell, and the juggernaught moved on.

Through battle after battle, the American forces had been technologically ahead of their opponents, or at least numerically superior, and technologically equal. However, at the gates of Berlin, an astounding thing happened. The sky grew dark, and huge birds filled the air. These huge birds dropped bombs on the American tankers, killing hundreds before they knew what was happening. When word got to the high commander, he demanded to see for himself what was happening. He went with his escort, and with the protests of the general staff.

“Sir, this way, we have prepared a bunker for you.”
“Rubbish!” General Cole said, “I’m going to see these birds from the front lines.”
The General commandeered a tank and went up to the front, and when he saw an assault being launched, he demanded to follow it. When in sight of the city walls, he asked, “Where are these fearsome birds?”
“They will strike at--”

BOOM!!! The tank shook heavily on the ground, and before the General could look out the hatch to see what had happened, the driver yelled, “Here they come, it’s the birds!”

Major John Adams assumed command of IV Corps, because he guessed rightly so, that he was the ranking officer on the battlefield. In fact, he was the ranking officer on the continent. The American assault had been destroyed. The tanks had been nearly wiped out, and the infantry assault had failed miserably. Most of the artillery had been captured by the Germans, who were launching their counter-offensive.
“Retreat. Sound retreat.”
“Sir?” his aide asked.
“You heard me. Retreat. We have lost.”

The American army, or rather, the shattered remnants of what had been the American army limped back to St. Petersburg, where it was hoped, they could make a stand. But, with two tank divisions, three infantry divisions, and one artillery division, it wasn’t likely.

President Steele was forced to seek a peace treaty with the Russians and Germans. The Russian version would be easy. The Russian army was worse off then the Americans. The Germans, however, would prove more difficult.

“Chancellor Bismarck, we must end this conflict before any more lives are lost.”
“You mean any more of your lives,” Bismarck snorted, “What do you offer me?”
“We return all of your cities, pay you thirty millions per month, and give you our finest silks, in return for peace and oil.” Steele hoped Bismarck wouldn’t demand more. He did.
“I can retake our cities by force, and I have little need for your worthless American money, and less need to trade you oil. However, listen to this. I will give you peace, and oil; in exchange for returning all of my cities, and all of what you took from the Russians; your silks, gems, and rubber; eighty millions per month, and six hundred millions now.”
“Bismarck, I have no choice. I must accept.” The two leaders shook hands, ending the longest, and bloodiest conflict the world had even known.

Or so they thought….

[Richelieu]

I don't trust that Bismark feller...

Keep it up! It's a good read!

[steelehc]

The year after American forces pulled out of Germany, the Chinese saw an oppurtunity to recapture the city of Shanghai, held for thousands of years by America. The Chinese army was technologically inferior, but was huge, especially compared to the shattered American army. The southern border of America was defended with eleven infantry divisions based in an equal number of cities and fortresses, and four tank divisions to repell any incursions that may be made. When the Chinese invaded, they did so without any warning, without any declaration of war. Sixty-seven divisions of cavalry and riflemen charged Philadelphia, just east of Shanghai. The defenders were overran, but not before destroying nine enemy divisions. Forces were slim, but everything available was brought to bear. The alliance with the English in the south was activated, and the knowledge of bombing airplanes was purchased from the Germans. America was truyl mobilized for war.

The first divisions to reach the Chinese army were the four tank divisions based along the border. These were brushed aside like a fly, and the Chinese continued north. American forces then began massing at the Valley Forge staging area, fifty miles east of St. Louis. The first of the new bombers were put into play, constantly bombing the Chinese force. Every tank in the arsenal was collected. Hundreds of thousands of troops, and hundreds of new planes were shipped off to war. When forty-five divisions were gathered, the counter-offensive began. The first key battle, and the turning point was at the battle of Los Angeles. Eighteen tank divisions, twenty infantry divisions, and seven artillery divisions faced off against fifty-odd divisions of Chinese mounted troops and infantry. The air was once again filled with smoke and fire, as industrialized Death began making his rounds.

Sergeant Mike Tomlinson was driving a tank, a brand new Liberty class M2 battletank, capable of firing ten rounds with its 80mm cannon every minute, and hundreds more with its .50 caliber machine guns. Tomlinson, however, was not concerned with these. He was concerned about the huge mob of mounted units charging up the hill at him. He put the tank in gear, and started forward.
"Target, squad, eleven o'clock."
"Identified," the gunner said.
"Fire!" yelled the commander.
The cannon above their heads spat a four foot tongue of flame, and sent a thirty pound explosive straight at fifteen of twenty Chinese cavalrymen at nearly one thousand miles per hour. The round impacted directly below one of the men, and the squad was vaporized in an instant.
"Target, squad, one o'clock." And the process began again.

Captain John Micki was piloting his B-2 Heavyweight bomber at two hundred miles an hour, and sixteen thousand feet above the battlefield. The bombardier in the nose was busy sighting on what looked like the Chinese headquarters, and all the Captain had to do was fly straight and level. This was the easiest thing he had ever done. He had learnt to fly in the first aircraft ever made by his country, the A1 Scout. That had been a challenge. Flying at barely seventy miles per hour, lower then one thusand feet, and with less range then a quarterback.
"Target sighted, unloading," said the bombardier.
"Good, carry on," Micki said. So, so easy.

General Ghengis Khan was worried. The battle had started so well for him, capturing three American cities before they could react, and one more against stiff resistance. Now, however, was vastly different. The Americans had better guns, and these "tanks" were unstoppable. But the worst of all was the American airplanes. Only they and the Germans from across the sea could build such things, and it was suddenly clear why the Americans had lost their previous war. One could not fight them. 'It is one thing', one of his men had said, 'to shoot something you cannot see. It is another to shoot something you cannot see with a gun that wont reach far enough.' Even the huge cannons he had brought along were inadequate.
"Sir!!" An orderly ran up to him.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Sir, the forward command post has been wiped out. Their last telegraph message was that they were under air attack by the American birds of prey, and before the commander could estimate casualties, the wires or the transmitter were destroyed. We senttwo riders to investigate. The one who returned brought the news. The post has been destroyed, sir."
Damn. "Very well, orderely, you may leave."
"Thank you, sir."
This was troubling news. That command post had been designed to be hidden from the airplanes. Everything had been built for that purpose: to avoid air attack. But, if they could find that one, could they find this one?

The battle ended up a draw, with the numerical superiority of the Chinese balancing out the technology of the Americans. However, within a week, four fresh tank divisions had been brought down, and the counter-offensive continued, this time, rolling over the Chinese, and smashing fully forty divisions. The Chinese sued for peace, and President Steele willingly obliged, but only after extracting serious concessions from China.
"Chairman Mao, you want peace, yes? As do we. Peace can be obtained in exchange for four things. We want three hundred millions now, one hundred millions per month; and your finest gems and dyes."
"President Steele, you drive a hard bargain, but we'll take it."
The two leaders reached across the table, shook hands, and ended, for the second time, the longest and bloodiest war the world had even known.

Or so they thought...

[Richelieu]

I still don't trust that Bismarck feller...

I'm really enjoying this! It's... alive!

[steelehc]

Thanks Richelieu. It's gonna be a couple days before I post the last part(s). My computer took a vacation, so I'm in a computer lab now.

Steele

[Jack_www]

When are you going to finish your story steelehc????

[Coinich]

Great read and good storyline. More... please!

[ElDiablo]

Hey Steelehc, when's the rest of this story coming out? Listen to your readers. We want more! Please.

[steelehc]

I haven't bothered to check on the story thread in the last few weeks. Wow. There is a demand for my writing. Seeing as how I have already written half of the next (maybe final) part, it should be up sometime tomorrow (its 2AM right now). Thanks for liking it.

Steele

[steelehc]

Twenty years after the victory over the Chinese armies, and thirty years after the slaughter at the hands of the German air forces, the American army was once again gearing up for war. Germany had declared war on the helpless Russians, and conquered the entire Russian Republic. The only power capable of opposing the German Blitzkrieg was the USA, so now Germany turned towards America. The coming war would be the most brutal, most costly, and bloodiest conflict ever fought between men.

Captain Michael Wright was in command of what had been the largest ship ever put to sea. The USS Philadelphia had been the world’s first aircraft carrier twelve years before. She was now on her first combat cruise, accompanied by her six sister ships, seven America class battleships, and five Freedom class destroyers.
“Sir, we have reached Station Lima. We are in position,” the lieutenant said, interrupting the Captain’s reverie.
“Very well, Jackson, sound General Quarters. We commence operations at 1335 hours.”
“Yes, sir.”

Commander George Merlic was the CAW, Commander, Air Wing, for the Philadelphia, the flagship, so he was the first pilot to take off. His NB-20 Widow-Maker lifted off, and climber rapidly to 55,000 feet, and 800 miles per hour. Behind him, three-hundred thirty five other NB-20s lifted off from the flattops below. Their target was Berlin, the capital of the German Empire, three thousand miles away. Several hours later, the navigator spoke up.
“Sir, we are approaching the radar coverage of the city.”
“Very good ell-tee.”

Johann Kirlov was a Russian by birth, but a naturalized German citizen in the polyglot German Empire. He had joined the German army to help secure his place in society, and had found himself thrust into the air defense network. His current post was Gun Captain for a battery of eighty-eight millimeter flak cannons, defending Berlin. Everything was as it should be. Nothing was amiss, the foolish Americans would never attack this far inland, their weak bombers wouldn’t even reach—

BOOOM!!!!!

The huge explosion wasn’t far away. His first thought was that some damn fool had set off one of the magazines for another battery. It would serve the bastard right, he thought. This proved to be an inaccurate guess, as a string of explosions ripped through the ground, straight for his guns. He now knew what was happening.
“Firing solution??” he screamed at his radar operator.
“No, I can’t see them, there is nothing on the scope, they must have hit the towers.”
“Searchlights, then, we’ll fire manually.”
“Yes, sir.”

“General, the fleet has destroyed any semblance of resistance near the coast. It is safe for the army to move in.”
“Very well, Colonel. What of the bombing of Berlin?”
“A surprising success. We suffered few casualties, two bombers had mechanical defects, and had to turn back, and one was shot down by a German fighter pilot. He must have gotten lucky, his plane wasn’t any faster then our bombers.”
“Any word of the results?”
“I would estimate that we killed more then 500,000 people last night, General. We also destroyed many factory complexes, a number of military barracks’, both airports, as well as many of the roads surrounding the city.”
“I see. That is indeed surprising. I suppose this changes the face of war.”
“Yes, sir.”

Sergeant Jake Feathers rolled ashore in his tank. This was the finest bringer of death any land army had ever featured. It could roll along at 70 miles per hour, it had fourteen inches of armor, enough to resist almost anything in the German arsenal, and it bore a massive 135mm cannon, and three .50 machine guns. Currently, however, he was stuck in traffic. The quintessential Americanism, it even happened in a foreign country that he was at war with, while driving a 80 ton beast designed to destroy things.
“Hey, Corporal,” he yelled at an MP. “What the hell happened?”
“Some jackass got the loading orders mixed up for a truck, doubled the weight limit, it turned over. It’s gonna be another half-hour or so.”
“Well, hurry it along. I can sit in traffic at home in New York, I didn’t come five thousand miles across the world to do the same thing. And this seat ain’t too comfy, if ya’know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do what I can.”

Within an hour, the American Third Army was rolling through Germany. It featured as its centerpiece thirty of the most powerful tank divisions in the world, accompanied by fifteen Multiple-Launch-Rocket-System divisions. The artillery component of this army could destroy an entire city within a few days.



To be continued……

[Dom Pedro II]

I can see somebody has been reading his Harry Turtledove.

If we just make a slight adjustment, Jake Feathers becomes Jake Featherston, the future Adolf Hitler of the Confederate States of America. Or at least, thats the direction it seems to be taking...

Anyway, with regards to your story, I like it. It's very well thought out and well-written.

[Sovy Kurosei]

I like this story... Much better than any works I done. I am currently going to try and work on a more humourous story in my game...

[steelehc]

Dom Pedro, you too have read your Harry Turtledove. Yes, Jake Feathers is similar to Jake Featherston of Great War fame. However, that is where the similarity ends. I needed a name, and I shamelessly pulled one from a book I read recently, and one that I hoped no-one would notice. However, (again) you have a good idea, that I may try to incorporate into a future story, if you don't mind.

Steele

PS: The next part is on the way.

[steelehc]

Germany had been split into thirds. The central section, made up of Berlin, Cologne, Hamburg, and Leipzig was controlled by American forces. The north and south sections, much larger then the American zone were still held by Germany. The war had turned from a war of motion into a war of attrition. Germany had more troops, though they were not as well equipped as their American counter-parts. The air war had largely ended, as the German air force had been crushed, and the American bomber crews were running out of targets. The naval battles, however, were as fierce and rough as ever. The American carrier fleets were holding their own, but taking ever increasing losses from the German fleet. The home fronts of both nations were being overrun by protesters.

Andrew Feathers had been a pimply teenager when the war broke out four years ago. All five of his brothers had been in the service; Jake, the oldest in the Army as a tanker; Tom as a infantryman; Peter as a bomber navigator; and both Fred and Marcus had been on the crew of a destroyer with Task Force One. Andrew was the sixth brother, and the only one still alive. Upon turning eighteen, he had been inducted into the army, but before he could be sent off, a huge wave of riots had swept the cities of America. His papers had been then turned over to the newly formed Special Service, designed to help “secure the home front.” He currently found himself in the home of a suspected “terrorist” along with five other members of his squad. Their orders were to quell resistance, and make an example of those who resisted violently. Andrew couldn’t see how this woman and her two eleven year old daughters could be violent resisters, but he knew not to question authority.
“Drag them out into the street, and hang them from a lamppost.”
“Sir?” Andrew protested.
“You heard me damnit, do it now or I’ll have you sent to the camps.”
“Yes sir.” Andrew and his squad mates looked at each other, and did as they were ordered.

Greg Othello was afraid to leave his house. He had barricaded himself inside, to keep out the rioters, the police, and the SS, all of whom roamed the streets shooting and burning at will. What had been the most culturally refined city on the planet had turned into a prison for its inhabitants.

“Sir, the SS is starting to weaken, they will not be able to keep the riots contained on their own for much longer.”
“Very well, General, you may initiate Operation 4.”
“Yes, sir.” The General left, leaving the President of what had been the world’s most successful nation to his suffering.

“Effective tomorrow, all persons suspected of resistance against the government will be subject to tribunal. If found guilty, they will be executed immediately, if found innocent, they will be sent to a concentration camp for processing.” The voice fell silent.
Greg and his family had been joined by a number of people who had fled their own neighborhood. They might want to leave again.

“Sir, all the measures we have taken, none of them are working. The cities are shut down, everything is closed, dissidents have been slaughtered by the thousands, but we cannot maintain this level. We must pull out of the war, and rebuild our economy.”
“Never. We went into this conflict with Germany knowing what could happen at home, and we planned for it.”
“Yes, sir, we did, but--”
“Rubbish. ‘But’ nothing. We can and will defeat our enemy at home, and turn our full attention towards Germany. Prepare the government for ‘alteration.’ We will change ourselves to meet this new foe.”
“Sir, we don’t fully understand the--”
“Bullshit. I fully understand everything I am doing. Now move it.”
“Yes, sir.”

Within four hours of the Presidents orders, the SS began removing all traces of the existing Parliamentary Democracy from Washington. As a practical matter, the government had ceased to be a democracy nearly two years ago, but this would make it official.


Once again….
To be continued……

[Richelieu]

I'm betting on a Communist America with the SS roaming the streets...

The times they are a-changing !

Still one of the best reads out there. And i like the details about the equipment... do you have a military background or did you just pick that up in books ?

[steelehc]

I don't want to ruin anything, but yes, "times are changing."

As for the equipment, I do have a military background, however I have gotten most of this from books. Tom Clancy comes to mind.

Steele

PS: Pt. 3 on the way soon

[sgrig]

Fantastic story, Steele!

I am very glad that you finally posted a sequel!

Greatly looking forward to the next part!!!

[Sovy Kurosei]

Hmmmm... Anybody ever clicked Despotism when they ment to click Democracy, during their change of governments? Just pray that your a religious race, hehehe...

I like this story... It is having some rather interesting turns going through it, and the occasional plot twist thrown into the whole shabbam. Keep up the good work!

[steelehc]

After the American News Service had finished its announcement, people began to look up. Maybe after years of suffering under the lack of order and the total collapse of society, things would return to normal. But things hadn’t changed, the SS still roamed the streets, people still disappeared seemingly at random, and food was stills scarce.

Jonathan Pierce heard the machine gun firing. Against his strongest instincts, he looked out a window, to see who was getting mowed down this time, if it was anyone he knew. To his utmost surprise, he saw seven SS soldiers lying dead, and four more hiding behind an overturned car in the middle of the street. They were shooting back at something, he couldn’t quite tell what—They came around the corner. Hundreds of them, waving rifles in the air, firing at the SS men. They charged the car, and the SS fled. As Jonathan watched, more people came out of houses, they took guns off the SS troopers, or were given them from the others in the mob. Jonathan ran outside. He looked for a leader, but couldn’t see anyone obviously in charge. He asked one man wielding a huge shotgun who was in charge, and the man just pointed. Jonathan saw a tall older man, who looked as though he should be dying somewhere, but here he was, and full of a vigor Jonathan had never seen before. He walked up to him, and asked if he could join this army.
“Do you know who we are, son?”
“No, but I’m willing to find out.”
“We are the National Kommissariat for Victory over Democracy, or NKVD. We are dedicated to restoring the freedoms of America, and to making everyone an equal provider and consumer.”
“What’s wrong with Democracy, I mean, giving the people a say in government is the way it should be, isn’t it?” Jonathan was getting intruiged.
“On the surface, yes, that is true. But the Democracy in America today is closer to Despotism; this great nation has been subjugated under the iron rule of one man. This is not a true Democracy. We want to bring America into the future, to create a Communist government, run by and for the people.”
“I see.” Jonathan was puzzled, but the army of men and women with guns drew him, it called to him, so he said:
“Can I join your army, then?”
“Yes, my son, you may.”

“Sir, the SS reports a large number of Communist groups converging on this spot. We must leave now.”
“Rubbish. I will have none of this. Gather my guards, I will fight to the last man.”
“Sir, many of the men… I have seen them conversing with known Communist leaders.”
“And?”
“And, sir, they may not be completely trustworthy.”
“Then I will fight to the last man on my own!!!” the President bellowed.
“Yes, sir.”

People’s Colonel Vladimir Il’ych Lenin led his column down the street to the Presidential Mansion. The building had been heavily fortified, but after four weeks of siege, most of the defenders had surrendered. Now it was time to take the palace. He had under his command seven hundred of his best fighters, all armed to the teeth with various assorted weaponry. Upon reaching the main gate, he asked his engineer,
“How long?”
“Impossible to tell, sir, it will be done, however.”
“Very good. Please hurry.”
“Of course.” The engineer began placing small cutting charges around the corners of the reinforced door, and started connecting them with wires. Lenin led his men back from the door, and they took shelter behind a series of tipped-over vehicles, placed there by the Democrats a few weeks earlier.

BOOM!!!

Lenin poked his head over what had been a very expensive Chevy Freedom, and saw a large hole in the building where the door had been. However, he also saw various body parts of his engineer scattered around on the field.
“Come on, men, this will be an easy fight.”
The army charged up towards the building. As they worked their way through the lobby, they saw evidence of numerous fights, with dozens of corpses scattered around, all in the uniforms of the American Guard, the men delegated to protect the president with their lives.

The president looked around. In the Circular Office, he had seven men, all hand picked, and completely trustworthy. Each had at least two automatic weapons, in addition to a single M-30E6 squad-level machine gun. He had enough food and water for his party for a week, and enough ammunition to supply a regiment in the army. But the army had either entirely deserted, been destroyed, surrendered, or was off in some foreign country, so this was the best he could do.
“This way, he’s in here.” He could hear voices in the passageway outside his office. He checked his weapons, and worked the action on the machine gun to load a round.
“Get ready.”

Lenin kicked in the heavy oak door. As the hinges had been almost completely removed, it came out of the wall. Almost instantly, a number of automatic weapons opened up, gunning down his men. He ran forward, firing into the air as he did so. A man in a black suit raised a weapon. So did Lenin. They fired at the same time. The impact of the bullets threw him back against the wall, and he found himself unable to move.

“You stupid commie sunza*****es, you want me, come and get me!!” the president screamed. He looked at his gun. The two-hundred round ammunition belt looked to have about fifty more bullets, and he had three more like it. He checked his pistol. He had two magazines of fourteen forty-five caliber.
“Mr. President, I’m out of ammo.”
“Here, don’t bother me.” The president handed the soldier the machine gun, and loaded the pistol.

The guard who had taken the machine gun from the president looked over the desk he was hiding behind, out the door. He could see at least thirty bodies lying on the floor. Suddenly, a face poked around the corner, followed by a rifle of some kind. The guard concentrated on the face…. who as it… it was familiar… Their eyes met, and the guard recognized his childhood friend, Jonathan Pierce.

Jonathan had seen at least twenty of his comrades fall in front of the machine guns of the doomed president. He stuck his head around the corner, and saw a man looking at him. The man looked familiar somehow…. Andrew! Andrew Feathers! They both held their fire, and reached a common understanding.

Andrew knew what he had to do. He took three steps back, so as to give himself a clear line of sight, and began raise his machine gun. One of the other guards saw this, and turned around. The machine gun was too heavy for him to raise quickly enough, he knew this, he thought it was the end…

Jonathan saw what Andrew was going to do, and respected him for that. He also saw another guard turning around, and had to do something.

The president saw the guard to his left get his head blown off by a burst of rifle rounds, and swore.
“Feathers, where are you?”
“Right behind you,” Feathers said, as the machine gun began firing.
As the other guard fell, the president suddenly realized that he was alone. He raised his pistol, and managed to get off three rounds, before being cut down by a hail of bullets from four guns from all sides.

To be continued......

[Sovy Kurosei]

Heh, Theocracy should have been allowed in Civ III, instead of being taken out.

Would have made alot of good Role Playing going on. In the name of God, I damn thee to an eternal fire!

Oh well, funny how democracy is overthrown by communism... But it will happen someday

[civman2000]

love it!

[Herr David]

Great Story!! I loved the way you described this war... and the revolution. Times truly are changing, comrade! However, I'm kinda surprised about Lenin being the leader of the American Revolution... where is Eugene Debbs?

Davai, tavar'ich! Victory is just around the corner!

[Herr David]

More more more more more!

[steelehc]

By popular demand, I will post the conclusion of my story. This has been an interesting experience, and I will write again, when I come up with a new plot basis.

Steele

[steelehc]

In the wake of the fall of the United States, the Communist party had the most popular support, and assumed control of the devastated country. Lenin had proclaimed himself General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Union of American Socialist Republics, or USAR. People expecting drastic changes in society, or a return to prosperity, were not disappointed, at least at first. Life in the streets returned to a semblance of normality, and people could now safely travel the countryside in groups smaller then an armored corps. Lenin promised America’s return to world supremacy, and defeat of her foes, at home and abroad.

Field Marshal William Merio was Chief of Staff of the USAR military, currently possessing very few units, but rapidly growing in size. The Army had twenty-nine divisions. Twelve tank divisions, ten artillery divisions, six infantry divisions, and a single division of Marines. The Air Force had ten squadrons of aircraft; three of Stealth Bombers, five of F-15 Fighters, and two antiquated squadrons of B-6B piston-engine bombers. The Navy was a joke. Seven ships. An America class Battleship, two World class Carriers, and four assorted frigates and destroyers.

“General, the comrade General Secretary wishes to know if you have finished the report yet.” An aide came into Merio’s office, interrupting the general’s depressing thoughts.
“Tell the comrade… Tell Lenin that his requested operational plan is impossible without a hugely revised OOB.”
“Yes sir. But perhaps it would be wiser for you to tell him.”
“What do you--” The general stopped short. Lenin had just walked into the room.
“Sir, this is a most pleasant surprise. You should have told me you were coming, I could have prepared a briefing.”
“Nonsense. Tell me what you have found out.”
“Well, sir, our military forces are in a very sad state. We have very limited ability to defend our borders, but none whatsoever to project power anywhere in the world. To meet your proposed OP, we would need to completely restructure our OOB.”
“OOB?”
“Order of Battle, basically a list of all our assets. I mean that we would need to hugely increase the size of our military forces, in every category.”
“General, you have the full support of the Communist party. Do what you need to, we must achieve our goals.”
“Yes, sir, we must.”

Jonathan Pierce had been made a General of the Army, only to discover the significant lack of military materiel. However, with the massive rebuilding programs the State was running, he was being given units to command. First a brigade, then a regiment, then a division. Now, he was in the driver’s seat for an entire armored corps. He had the most powerful weapons in the world at his disposal. Nearly twelve-hundred tanks, and over four hundred artillery tubes. He found himself dreaming of having this army during the revolution. The United States wouldn’t have had a chance.

Andrew Feathers was also a flag officer, but in the Air Force. He was in charge of the nation’s air defense network, including all squadrons of fighter aircraft. He only wished he had more with which to defend his homeland.

Lenin looked annoyingly at the TV apparatus set up in his office. He hated these appearances, but knew that to maintain power he had to maintain contact with the people, however much he hated doing so.
“Sir, we’re going out live in five, four, three,” the man went silent, holding up his fingers for “two” and “one.”
“Good evening, America, this is an important message from the leader of our beloved homeland, Comrade General Secretary Lenin.”
“Thank you,” Lenin said to the announcer. “People of America, today, three hours ago, we declared war on the nations of Germany, China, and France. Our military might is unmatched by any of these ‘civilizations’ and we will prevail. I ask you all to do what it takes to keep America strong, and lead us to victory. Good night.”

The war seemed to be going well for the American war machine. On the Chinese front, four cities had fallen in the first month, and five more in the second. On the French front, one city had fallen quickly, before the French launched a counter-offensive, delaying the American attacks. In Germany, the place known to every American where countless thousands of lives had been wasted in previous wars, the battles were going as expected, many casualties, on both sides.

“Sir, we have just received some dreadful news. The Germans have developed a new superweapon, one capable of destroying entire cities, and wiping out thousands of troops in an instant.”
“What is this nonsense?”
“They are called atomic bombs, I cannot tell you much about them, but they are incredibly powerful, and at present, unstoppable.”
“Why have they not used these weapons, then?”
“Since Germany is so far from America, they would be forced to use these weapons on their own territory, and this is not to be taken lightly.”
“Very well. Instruct the commanders to be careful and watchful; instruct the Minister of Science to look into making our own versions of these weapons, and if possible, a way to counter them.”
“Yes, sir. I will do so immediately.”

After several failed negotiations, attempting to bring about peace, the German Empire used its nuclear arms against the forces of America. The destruction was very near total, and what wasn’t destroyed by the atomic fire was soon captured or burned by the un-opposed French and Chinese armies. Within six months, the USAR had ceased to be a world power, three remaining cities, with a combined population of just over one million. The American army was once again a mere shadow. The navy and air force had vanished from existence.

After a further three months, the territories of America had become sovereign soil of France, China, and Germany.


The End.

[steelehc]

This rather lengthy story was based on a Diety game, where I was, as you may have guessed, the Americans. After my first two major wars, against the Germans and Chinese, I rebuilt, and eventually went back to Germany. That was a miserable failure. Not only did my armies suffer from poor planning, but my cities ALL rioted. Every single one, and to an extent not easily reparable by entertainers. Thusly, I switched to Communism, startes a new war, and was then destroyed with many nuclear weapons.

Thank you all for your comments and criticisms. I will write another story; I already have an idea.

Steele

[Coinich]

Steelehc, - good story man I was expecting you to win! Getting nuked sucks doesn' it