Geert Wilders, Australian Ambassador to Indonesia, was on the phone with Alexander Van Nuys, Australian Ambassador to the NUSA.
"What do mean, Indonesia refuses to help?" asked Van Nuys. Wilders groaned. "The Indonesian government says that Nieuw-Caledonië lacks strategic importance, that the war in Malaya, Borneo, and Burma is more important" he replied.
Van Nuys shook his head. "So they're just gonna sit back and do nothing while Australian citizens die?" he asked in shock.
"Sounds like it" Wilders sighed. "Perhaps you can get America to do something?"
"America has their hands full in the north and in Ireland" replied Van Nuys. "Getting them to support us would be a challenge of epic proportions."
"They have forces in Korea and Japan that are doing nothing right now" said Wilders desperately. "Perhaps those forces can be marshaled to drive the invaders away?"
"I'll bring that up the next time I consult the Americans" said Van Nuys.
"They'd better accept it" said Wilders. "The fate of our country depends on it."
Lieutenant Albert Beeckman gripped the controls of his Fokker Vaterland fighter. Despite the civil war engulfing Nieuw-Caledonië, the aeroforce still managed to put up a fight against the invaders. But they simply didn't have enough planes. The Australian Aeroforce was rapidly losing air parity.
Right now, Beeckman was escorting a strike on an enemy carrier group. Already, two Fokker Havik bombers and six Vaterlands had fallen to enemy fighters.
As Beeckman flew towards one of the screening destroyers, his plane shook. A 20mm round had struck his left wing, and now fire was coming from the fuel tank.
Beeckman gulped. As he looked at the destroyer, an idea formed. He pushed his control stick downward and firewalled the throttle. Instantly, the mortally wounded fighter dove for the destroyer. At the last possible second, Beeckman hit the eject button and rocketed out of the cockpit.
As his parachute deployed, Beeckman watched as the burning plane impacted a missile battery. Instantly, the bow of the ship was engulfed in a massive explosion.
While a RAN helicopter fished Beeckman out of the water, HMAS Victoria broke in two and sank, carrying nearly 100 men to the bottom.
Ambassador Wilders's phone rang. He put down the novel he was reading and picked it up. "Ambassador Wilders here" he said. "Who is this?"
"This is General De Bie" said the voice on the other end.
"Oh, hello general" said Wilders icily. "What do you want?"
"I'm calling to tell you about a deal I've made with the Indonesian goverment" replied De Bie. "In exchange for being recognized as the legitimate head of state, I have agreed to have Australia become a protectorate of Indonesia."
"Say what?" said Wilders. "You signed our sovereignty away just to get your hands on the presidency?"
"It is only a temporary measure" reassured De Bie. "The Indonesians will give our independence back when the war is over."
"Sure they will" said Wilders. "Tell me, was taking back Nieuw-Caledonië part of the deal?"
"I'm afraid not" said De Bie. "The Indonesians say we must defeat the nation currently occupying the Australian heartland before we can get back to Nieuw-Caledonië."
"So, in other words, the only thing you got out of this was the presidency" growled Wilders.
De Bie laughed. "You think I intend to rule indefinitely?" he asked. "In reality, I am like Cincinnatus, taking the reins when the nation is in dire straits. As soon as the crisis is over, I will step down and allow a new civilian government to take over."
"I doubt you'll actually do that" said Wilders. "This conversation is over". With that, Wilders slammed the phone down.
Commander Robert Hartog watched as the crew loaded a torpedo into the tubes. His submarine was the last remaining Australian Navy vessel, the rest either haven fallen prey to enemy submarines or been sunk in port by air attack.
They had confirmed that the ship they were aiming for was the same carrier they had spotted right after the event. Now, Van Diemen was doing what she should have done over three months ago.
Hartog gave the order, and the torpedo raced towards the vessel. The tin fish hit home just ahead of the ship's rudder.
Brisbane had just finished recovering a flight of Rapiers when the ship suddenly shook terribly.
"What the hell was that?" yelled Captain Abercrombie.
While damage controls worked feverishly to control flooding, three Agusta-Westland Merlins were launched to find the submarine. Once they got a fix on the sub's location, they each launched torpedoes. Minutes later, debris floated to the surface, confirming the kill.
While HMAS Brisbane limped back home, the last ship of the Australische Marine descended to the bottom.
Private First Class Justin Durham lifted the net from the sea. "More dead fish" he called out as he inspected his catch. For the past two weeks, dead fish had washing up on the shores of the island and in their fishing nets. A few soldiers had tried to eat the fish-and promptly gotten sick from radiation poisoning.
"The recent naval battle near here has to be the cause" said Corporal George Whittaker. "If I recall correctly, a battleship and a aircraft carrier were lost. All of that reactor fuel at the bottom can't be good for the ecosystem."
"Fuck the ecosystem" growled Durham. "Who cares about 'those poor fishies' when we have a war to fight?"
Thomas Callaghan took a breath as he walked through the rubble-strewn streets of Montreal. NUSA had begun a bombing campaign against Canadian cities in an attempt to break their morale.
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was standing on a corner addressing a crowd of citizens. Callaghan smirked as he listened to the man blab on in his Inferior tongue. No doubt he was spewing "inspirational" crap to the wretched Inferiors huddled in front of him.
Thanks to "enhanced interrogation" of POWs, NUSA had learned the identity of the leader of Canada. Now, ORRA had sent Callaghan to assassinate him.
Callaghan pushed through to the front of the crowd. "I have a question, Your Excellency" he said.
"What is it?" asked Trudeau.
"What do you plan on saying to the Lord" asked Callaghan "before he casts you into the fires of Hell?" With that, Callaghan drew a pistol and fired, hitting Trudeau once in the chest. As the Prime Minister fell backward, his bodyguards opened fire, striking Callaghan no less than eight times. The assassin was dead before he even hit the ground.
"The PM's been shot!" shouted a bodyguard into his earpiece. "Get us a medevac now!"
It was 3 AM in Manhattan. Most people were soundly asleep in their beds. When the air raid sirens sounded, they stirred for a second, then went back to sleep. After all, the densely populated center of New York City had been left relatively untouched by the RCAF, which had focused their bombing raids on the naval facilities and other military installations to the east. That was about to change.
A flight of four Avro Vulcan bombers was heading for the city. 12 Avro Canada Typhoons flew ahead of the bombers, charged with suppression of enemy air defenses. Operation Elijah was in effect. Originally conceived during the Cold War against the UAPR, the plan had been decried as excessively inhumane and shelved. Recent circumstances, however, had removed any inhibitions the Canadians may have had about implementing it.
The use of a plane named "Vulcan" was certainly appropriate, given their payload. On the bombs, the crew had inscribed the Bible verse that gave the operation its name, 2 Kings 1:10.
And Elijah said to the captain of fifty "If I am a man of God, may fire come down from heaven and consume you and your fifty" And thus fire came down and consumed the captain and his fifty.
As the Vulcans flew over Manhattan, they began dropping their special payload-incendiary bombs. In a matter of minutes, the lower half of the island was engulfed by a massive inferno. The still-sleeping citizens now payed the price for ignoring the warning as they were roasted alive in their beds. Nearly 160,000 Americans would die in this manner. The fires in Manhattan would burn on for at least twelve hours. Survivors would later describe a "blanket of fire" covering the buildings and streets, consuming skyscrapers and turning the roads and sidewalks into rivers of lava.
Having dropped their payloads, the bombers turned north and headed back home. A few F-99s rushed out and tried to get them. One Vulcan was hit by a missile and sent plummeting into the Hudson River, but the rest continued on their way back home.
The people of New York would not be the last to feel the wrath of Operation Elijah.
"Broadcasting from Philadelphia around the Free World on televisors..."
"...And on Uncle Sam's Talkiebox Station!"
"Today is a very dark day in American history" said Masters grimly. "In the early morning hours, New York City was the victim of a firebombing attack by the enemy aeroforce."
Weir took over. "Not content with taking the lives of the brave young men on the frontline, the 'Canadians' have now resorted to attacking American citizens on their home soil."
The camera cut to Richard Oswald giving a speech near a burned-out building. "By attacking innocent American civilians" he thundered "The enemy has shown their barbarism and total disregard for the rules of war in a manner only Inferiors could. But if they think that attacking us in this cowardly manner will make us give up, they are sorely mistaken! We will continue the fight until they are utterly annihilated."
Corporal Donald Kenyon could see the buildings of Noumea up ahead.
The New Caledonians had not made it easy for them. From the looks of it, the various army officers and bureaucrats vying for power in the city had put aside their differences long enough to provide a united opposition to the invaders. Right now, Kenyon and the rest of his company was fighting through the suburbs to reach the city limits.
A Supermarine Typhoon flew overhead, dropping a free-fall bomb on one enemy position. Though Brisbane had been taken out of the fight, her sister ship HMAS Commonwealth was still around to provide support.
God bless the Implacable class thought Kenyon. Australia may not have any KGVIs, but those old girls get the job done nicely.
It was Private Bob Morrell's turn to patrol the area outside the camp.
Before the event, Venezuela had laid claim to all of Guyana east of the Essequibo. As a result, Guyana was one of the most heavily defended parts of the British Empire. So when NUSA came knocking after the event, the Guyanans had offered stiff resistance.
Unfortunately, the Americans had managed to make headway by sheer weight of numbers. Now, the two sides were in a vicious stalemate on the banks of the Essequibo.
Morrell had heard truly terrifying rumors from the areas under NUSA control. Citizens were being rounded up into brutal concentration camps. He knew that the Americans would set out the eliminate all of Guyana's native population. I really hope London can help us as soon as possible thought Morrell.
It was over. Corporal Kenyon watched as the Australian flag was raised over the blasted remnants of city hall.
Their counterparts had put up a fierce fight, but the outcome was never in doubt. The highest ranking military officer left on the island, Colonel Jan Schut, had signed the official document of surrender an hour ago.
With New Caledonia pacified, the Australians could now turn their attention to Indonesia.
Wilders was numb when he received the news of Nieuw-Caledonië's fall. With that, it seemed the war was all but lost for the Republic of Australia. And he knew just who was responsible.
"De Bie!" Wilders shouted into the phone. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Say for myself?" asked De Bie. "About what?"
"You know what" hissed Wilders. "The fall of Nieuw-Caledonië."
"Ah, yes" said De Bie. "A great tragedy to be sure."
"The island fell because of you!" yelled Wilders. "If you hadn't killed Acting President Hoek, the island wouldn't have fallen into anarchy and become a target for invasion."
"I killed Hoek?" asked De Bie. "Come on. We all know it was Beutelist terrorists that did him in."
"Your 'subjects' may buy that" replied Wilders "but I don't."
De Bie laughed. "What proof do you have anyway?" he asked mockingly.
"It's simple" said Wilders. "He was a rival to your claim to the Presidency."
De Bie laughed again. "Why would he be a threat?" he asked. "Hoek was in no position to actually exercise power over Niew-Guinea. It was the reason I declared myself president in the first place. I was simply out to keep order and stability in my neck of the woods."
"I'm sure that the suffering people of Nieuw-Caledonië will thank you for your 'order and stability', you treasonous fuck." growled Wilders before he put the phone down.
As Wilders exited his office, he couldn't help but feel a little threatened. He was certain De Bie wouldn't let him live much longer...
Major General Ali Kushayb peered out the window of his vehicle at the devastated city.
The British were moving through the ruins of Egypt to reach and seize the Suez Canal from NUSA. So far, they had encountered no resistance from the Americans, only nomadic Arab tribes.
From speaking with the local residents, Kushayb had gotten a picture of what had happened to this world's Egypt, and it surprisingly wasn't America's fault. During the final war between the powers of Europe, Egypt had been hit by two nukes-one in the capital of Cairo, and another on the Aswan Dam. The latter caused the waters of the Nile to burst forth and flood nearly all of Egypt's major cities. Combined with the destruction of the central government, Egypt had ceased to exist as a unified nation.
The sight of her great cities in ruins was haunting for Kushayb. Even worse, he had heard the horror stories from the American-held territories on the coast. NUSA had invaded North Africa in the 1990s, and engaged in a systematic eradication of the local population. Now, Kushayb and his forces were determined to put a stop to that.
"What do you mean, you can't send any soldiers down?" asked Chancellor Beckers. He was currently on the phone with Richard Oswald.
"We would send some" replied Oswald "but we're a little preoccupied in the Americas right now."
"What about the forces stationed in East Asia?" pleaded Beckers. "Surely, you could release them to help us."
"If we let our Asian territories go unguarded, the Siberians might move in and take them" said Oswald.
Beckers groaned. "The Siberians can barely feed themselves" he replied. "What makes you think they'd be a threat to you?"
"Why are you so worried?" asked Oswald. "You've got a population of what, 320 million? I'm pretty sure you can beat the enemy Australians on your own. Once we've defeated the enemy in our own backyard, we'll come to assist you."
"Fine" Beckers sighed. He knew that challenging Oswald any further might set him off, and if there was one thing you did not want to do, it was to anger an Oswald. "See you later."
From the outside, the complex looked like just another prison. Major John Clarence Malone kept his rifle at the ready as he walked through the front gates. His company had just finished fighting through a platoon of NUSA soldiers. They had no idea what they were about to find inside.
Men, women, and children. All diseased and in various states of emaciation. As Malone and his comrades entered, they began chattering in Russian, their voices thin and sickly sounding.
"Anyone here know any Russian?" Malone asked his men. Private First Class Viktor Granin stepped forward. "It's all right" he said in Russian to the terrified prisoners. "We're here to free you."
Malone's company went to work opening the cells and assisting the prisoners out. Most of them had difficulty walking unassisted. A few were covered in sores. All of them looked to be on the brink of death.
Malone couldn't help but stare in shock. He had heard of NUSA's genocide of "Inferiors", but he had not seen it up close until now.
"Somebody call an airlift to get these people out of here" Malone ordered. He raised his rifle as the prisoners began to file out. "The security personnel appear to have fled, but there still might be some guards hanging around" he said.
It was all over. Lieutenant General Gregory Tucker could no longer deny it. He and his men had been holding out in the besieged city for six weeks. By now, their food and ammunition was almost depleted, and the constant presence of RAF aircraft made resupplying the city nearly impossible.
The civilian population was also suffering. Incessant bombing had damaged or destroyed nearly every building in the city and killed thousands. Famine was beginning to take its toll-there were rumors going around of people resorting to cannibalism to stay fed. Healthcare services had totally broken down, and disease was widespread.
Tucker knew this situation couldn't go on forever. But he also knew there would be grave consequences if he surrendered. At best, he would be dishonorably discharged. At worst, he would be executed for treason. Knowing Oswald, Tucker was certain the latter was most likely.
With that in mind, Tucker shut himself in his office, sat down and wrote a note containing his final orders to his men, and then put his pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Two hours later, the American forces emerged from the city carrying a white flag.
Private First Class Durham poked listlessly at his mashed potatoes. The recent bad news had dulled his appetite.
Andersonville had fallen. The officer in charge of the forces within the city had ordered his men to surrender before shooting himself. Only a small portion of the soldiers actually obeyed. Most simply followed their CO and killed themselves. A few tried to put up one last fight, with little success. Ultimately, hunger and fatigue prevailed, and the survivors gave themselves up to the British.
That wasn't all. The British were currently on the northern bank of the Shannon Estuary in the north and Waterford had fallen to the east. NUSA's grip on Ireland was crumbling.
Durham turned to Corporal Whittaker. "Is NUSA gonna send any more reinforcements?" he asked.
Whittaker shook his head. "That's a negative" he replied.
"Are they gonna pull us out?" Durham pressed on.
Whittaker shook his head again. "Nope" he replied.
Durham groaned. "So they've already written us off as a lost cause" he said "but they don't want to admit it by retreating."
Whittaker nodded. "That sounds about right" he said. Whittaker then gestured to Durham's meal. "You gonna eat that?" he asked. "After all, the food supply ship crews are risking their asses to bring it here."
Private Cedric Collins flipped idly through the pages of his comic book. The ship was on its way to the southern coast of New Guinea. The landings were timed to coincide with the Australian Army's offensive in Papua.
Collins put aside his comic as Major Christopher Curtis walked in. "We're currently two hours from landing" he announced. "I need all of you to be at top readiness."
"Yes sir" said Collins as he and his buddies saluted.
futurist: Good luck to you, MN!
Jan 17, 2019 5:10:51 GMT
MinnesotaNationalist: well, that was the most underwhelming jury duty ever. Came in one day, was told to go home, and now I'm told that I'm not needed anymore for this session.
Jan 23, 2019 4:26:12 GMT
ieph: I've been actually thinking of just spending my time here, gradually decreasing my presence in AH.com. But in the meantime, I'm spending my time reviving one of my old WIPs sadly lost to the sands of time (I guess)
Jul 23, 2019 11:24:08 GMT
ieph: In fact, I'm even thinking of reviving my wikibox TL right here.
Jul 23, 2019 20:21:52 GMT
jennysnooper87: If that's the case, would it be okay if I moved the TL from AH.com to this site?
Aug 21, 2019 1:53:59 GMT
railmotive: Checking out this website, seems quite nice.
Oct 23, 2019 22:35:16 GMT