A Brave New World Part 2

To New France
From Alaska

We advice you not to go into the American War. I'm not going into the war unless Sweden somehow gets involved ( I think I have to go to war if Sweden goes). Make peace before you get invaded.
 
From The Russian Federation
To France

And so we see France's true intentions. you would seek to subjugate all of Europe to your tyranny. Twisted words and foul speeches will give no credence to your cause.
 
To Korea
From Alaska

The whole world is the real victum after France's tyrenery and backstabbing. Pleace do not join the Co-Axel Pact of Nations.
 
They've been members of the Co-Axial Pact of Nations since long before you joined the game, bestrfcplayer.
 
To: Russian Federation
CC: The World
From: Bulgaria, Serbia, Romania

We refuse to follow Russia into its path of self-destruction and persecution of the civilized nations of Europe. We hereby once more dissolve our membership within the Russian Imperial Protectorate and offer our allegience to the Co-Axial Pact of Nations. A new order is rising in Europe, with little room for your decadent ways.

*turn-off*

To The Co-Axial Pact of Nations

Russia here by declares war upon the nations of the Axis.

*orgasm*


Good luck Kentharu! Beat those Frenchies into the ground and then bring their peoples' standard of living into the modern age forcefully :p.

And good luck trying to moderate this war EQ :p. Glad I got out of this before the tanks started rolling towards Stalinigrad...

Haha, speaking of Stalingrad, things didn't go all that hot for Romania the last time they joined the Axis... Ah well; popular revolts should bring them over to the Allied side even quicker now :p.
 
Taking New Jersey after this update.

Meet the newest leader of Francophone North America!
Spoiler :
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To: Virginia, UNCA
From: Quebec

Look around, do you not see the many challenges the world is facing? This war is now bigger than ever and your agenda is filled to capacity with very important matters. Yet you still worry about the small illegitimate Metis government. Do not make the mistake of intervening in an unimportant matter, or I will be forced to follow down the path of New France.
 
To: New France
From: The UCNA


New France is foolish to invade the UCNA. The Workers Mountain Corps will defeat any attempts of invasion. The people of New France had spoken against involving themselves in this conflict only to be pushed into the war regardless.

And I wish them good luck... unfortunately for them, I am not invading the mountains.

And also, I still do not want this war, but you leave me no choice. Either I join the war and hope you are defeated or I stay out and you win. Either way I lose.
 
No more orders of any kind will be accepted beyond this point.
 
While I wish I could finish the update tonight, I have promised people that I'll be resuming normal sleeping habits. The orders/outline section of updating is completed, and I have a general idea how this update is likely to go. Only four actual articles have been completed for the update, leaving 45 to be completed tomorrow. 31 of those 45 are the World Wars, which will take a significant amount of time. I hope that the update should be done by late tomorrow afternoon.
 
England congratulates Russia on joining our righteous crusade to rid Europe of France's Corrupt and Evil ways once and for all. May God have mercy on their souls for our soldiers surely shall not!
 
To: New England
From: Quebec

Due to conflict of interests, I suggest that you drop Canada from the New England Imperial Protectorate. You can not support both of us simultaneously, and Canada should be punished for its previous actions against Quebec.

From: Canada
To: That Dirt

Just another sign of Quebecois inferiority and insanity. We have never been in the protectorate of those who foolishly support such useless scum as yourselves.
 
"Hey Joe, get over here!" Looking up from his pad, Joe recognized Martin, the short platoon leader who was motioning Joe to join him and the rest of the platoon under a willow about ten yards away. Presently Joe was comfortable under his own willow, his back supported by the soft bark that characterized the trees of Louisiana, and his concentration focused on the pen and pad he was attempting to transform into some kind of letter.

"Joe, its Willy's birthday. We're blowing out the candles. Get your a** over here!" Martin said again, after he realized Joe was not going to move. This time Joe pocketed his pad as he realized the tone in Martin's voice was one of an order, not a suggestion. Careful not to stumble over the protruding roots of the willow, Joe made his way over to the rest of the platoon who were huddled around a small tin with a protruding stick. Holding it was Willy, a young man just out of VTATA* who had joined the platoon six days ago. Grumbling that this was a waste of time, Joe forced a smile on his face and brought his open palm hard across the Willy's back.

"Congratulations private," he forced himself to utter. He knew the chances of Willy making it to his next birthday, and saw nothing about which they should be celebrating.

"Aw thanks Joe. I don't see what much there is to congratulate me for, anyhow. I'm the one that's gotta eat this moldy bread!" he proclaimed, a smile stretching across his still-unmarred face. That did actually force Joe to naturally smile as he checked out what was actually in the oval tin Willy had in his hands. An almost-rocky surface was lightly colored yellow, but in some parts the yellow turned into blue or green, indicating this corn bread was not likely to have been baked even in the last month. This might not be a waste of time after all if I get to watch him eat it, Joe thought to himself.

"Alright Willy," Martin said in his high-pitched voice as he lit the tip of the stick, "make a wish, and it better not be anything but victory for the platoon." The rest of the platoon chuckled, though Joe could tell it was a forced laugh. Martin seemed to think he was the comedic genius of the 133rd Infantry. Stalling for just a second, Willy took in a breath and exhaled over the top of the stick, extinguishing the flame and ending in light applause from the men gathered around.

Finally, Joe thought, as he turned back towards his willow. This letter seemed hard to accom - "Incoming!" he heard someone yell, and instinctively throw his body flat on the ground just as he heard a high-pitched whistle end in an explosion about four yards from his willow. Joe jumped up and dodged the roots quicker this time to his willow where his rifle and pack lay. He retrieved the items just in time for a second and third explosion just yards away. His legs seemed to take on a will of their own as they led him to his foxhole, dodging in and out of thickets and branches, knowing the longer he stayed exposed the better the chance one of this artillery shells would land on him.

The barrage continued for almost five minutes after Joe was in his hole, clutching his rifle and listening from any orders the squeaky-voiced platoon sergeant might yell. The barrage then finally stopped, but Joe was only able to catch a split-second breath before he heard the crackle of rifle fire all down the line. The commies were advancing, which they did after a barrage only about once out of every three times. Joe didn't hesitate to bring his head over the top of his hole, with his gun slung off his shoulder and pointing at the line. He could see teams of communists running from tree to tree, stopping briefly to fire their weapon which was when the Virginians would pick them off. He also noticed something else, a shadow that seemed to be moving through the dust kicked up by the barrage.

"We got Tommies!" Someone yelled before Joe had the chance to. Tommies, as he and the rest of the army called them, were the Tomahawk Tanks the communists seemed to have an endless supply of. They weren't exceptionally fearing, those tanks. While they were fast and seemed to keep up with any infantry advance, their armor was thin almost entirely around the tank (except the front) and their weapon was only good against lightly-armored units such as infantry. Luckily, this platoon was paired with elements of the 3rd AT "Charleston" brigade. Joe watched as the shadow soon emerged as the treaded-tank its stunted turret pointing straight at him. A spark of light from the tip of it caused Joe to duck only just in time as the shell flew over his foxhole and into the trees behind him. Again standing up, Joe forced himself not to worry about the tank, it wasn't his job, and instead concentrated on the advancing infantry. One by one he would pick them off with the Richmond-made rifle, only occasionally would the dirt explode in protest as a communist bullet broke the ground in front of him. It only took less than a minute for the tank to shoot off another one of its shells, though this time it was aimed at the man to his right, private Garret, who cursed as he duck into the hole to avoid the flying shell. Cursing some more as his head re-emerged, he yelled "Where are the godda*** AT boys?!" Just as he finished that sentence, though, a rocket-propelled grenade skitted across the line and onto the advancing Tommie, dismantling the turret from the rest of the tank. Looking down the line it appeared similar events were happening all across the front. Cheering, the Virginian rifle fire seemed to intensify even more after the threat had been neutralized.

Just as it seemed the commie advance would be forced back almost as if it were routine, a small rumble in the air caused Joe's heart to sink. He had been in the army when the war broke out and was well aware of the rumble which he heard and which grew louder by the second. He could not mistake the twin engine "Wasps" for anything else. He then noticed the communists seemed to have stopped their advance, though they didn't retreat. Joe was only able to let out a single curse before the bombs started exploding across the line, dropped from the communist Wasp squadrons. Ducking into his hole, Joe continued to curse as he tried to understand how the commies knew the AA stationed here had been withdrawn for the 24th platoon in Hebron?

The barrage from the air was much more intense than any artillery barrage. These bombs were bigger, more accurate, and came straight down which meant foxholes added little protection. One could only sit and pray that one of those bombs didn't land in his lap. As the barrage lasted for almost two minutes now, another rumble seemed to join the Wasps. It was lighter, almost a high-pitch. And it was unmistakable. Closing his eyes, Joe imagined what the sky must look like right now as the Russian-made AS-124s, which probably seemed to have come from no where, descended on the poor wasps. Suddenly the barrage stopped and rifle fire resumed. Again another smile crept across Joe's face, twice in one day was not bad, when he could hear his nasely sergeant call for a counter-attack and a push to the outskirts of Gardes le Pontaroux, the small village which was just a few hundred yards up the line. The commies were in full retreat now, and the familiar Virginian cheer again erupted down the line as the platoon emerged from their holes and chased the commies back to the village.


------------------------


Joe Prescott was only 23 but he felt like he was as old as his granddad. He could remember the late nights, the ones his parents left him and his two sisters with granddad while they worked the extra shifts at the steel mill, where they would huddle around the coal stove for warmth and listen to stories from the Orient, where granddad had fought for one of the first Virginian barrel brigades. The IV Armor, which was indeed the fourth squadron of tanks, or barrels as they were called then, to be commissioned in the army, was based in towns and villages all up the Tigris River. Granddad had been a part of Virginian history as he fought for the army which captured Baghdad, and served under General Alfred Murphy, whose famous name would adorn the newest of Virginian tanks and go down in Virginian military textbooks as one of the brightest and most innovative generals ever to serve in the Virginian army. Granddad's stories were what inspired Joe to push his mandatory army training to last four years instead of two, from age 18 to 22. Now Joe was fighting his own war, perhaps one that would trump any other war in importance and scale. He would have stories to tell, hell, he already did have stories to tell.

Assuming of course that he would make it out of the war alive. The front was a long ways from his hometown of Stockton in the northern Ohio territory. He didn't know how he would adapt to life of constant violence and death. But he soon realized that he might not be the most skilled of aims, nor the fastest, or the strongest, but Joe could pride himself in knowing he was among the smarter soldiers in the army, and with that intelligence he knew how to stay alive. Joe was a surviver of dozens of advances and retreats, he had already survived almost three years fighting the communists and he vowed to last the rest of the war. Looking to his side at the soldiers marching next to him, he knew protocol insisted he was supposed to take a bullet for the man next to him. But when it came down to surviving, Joe was going to fight for Joe.

As he continued to ponder the role which he would play in the coming years, a young soldier came running down the line, spouting something rapidly as he ran. Joe was only able to understand a few words between gasps of air and excited breaks in his voice, and so stuck out his army to grab the private before he ran by.

"What's the hurry, private?" Joe asked, studying the young man's face. He would guess this man was from Carolina by the tanned look and soft features.

"Georgians, we got Georgians!" He said. A slight Carolinian accent hung on his tongue, confirming Joe's suspicion. The men around Joe looked at each other in surprise.

"What do you mean Georgians, private? You mean we got a line of Georgians up ahead?" Joe asked, impatience hanging on the end of his question.

"No, no, nothing like that. We just came across a commie POW camp. And its full of Georgians." Joe was in disbelief. For the unprecedented third time in one day, his faced stretched into a smile.

*Virginian Technical Army Training Academy. Part of a system of expansion academies of the famed West Point, VTATA is considered a top-ranking technical training school from which most Virginian men graduate before joining the armed services. This particular school is located in Lancaster, Ohio.
 
At EQ's behest, and for your viewing pleasure I hereby present:

The Evolution of New England Battleships in A Brave New World

Dreadnought​

The Dreadnought-class Battleship was developed in 1890 by the Charleston Shipyard in Boston, New England, at the behest of the New England Navy. The design revolutionized naval warfare. Dreadnought carried ten 12-inch naval guns on 5 dual turrets, almost triple the number of guns on her predecessors, who usually possessed only four guns, generally of 8 or 10 inch caliber. The ship was 527 feet long and 82 feet abeam, drawing 26 feet of water and displacing 18,500 tons. As the design was developed, it became apparent to leaders in the Navy the impact such a ship would have on the world. Not only was Dreadnought better armed and armored than other capital ships at the time, she was also faster, able to manage over 20 knots, whereas many large warships built before her struggled to make even 15 knots. This gave her yet another advantage in combat. However, the Dreadnought-class did not get its first taste of combat under New England until 1912, during the war in China. By that time, the end was drawing near for the Dreadnoughts, as a new level of naval technology had recently been unveiled.

Spoiler :
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Dreadnought under way on her maiden voyage, taken from the destroyer Edmund Hartt, 1890. Courtesy of the Naval War Museum.

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The Dreadnought John Adams on patrol off the coast of Nova Scotia during the Great War. Released 1907. Artist Unknown.

Victory

The unveiling of the new Victory-class Battleship in 1911 was another large step forward in naval thinking. Unlike its predecessors, the Victory was powered by oil, rather than coal. This allowed it to store greater amounts of fuel, and more importantly, made it near invisible, as the ships produced far less smoke than other designs, such as the Atlantic-class. The Victory-class also had a far larger crew than any previous battleship, housing over 1000 sailors and officers, 1.5 times the complement of a Dreadnought. She was also the first ship to have all her guns mounted on turrets, above the waterline, whereas most earlier ships had guns mounted in fixed positions under the gunwales, leaving them useless in high seas, or when the ship was heeling heavily, and giving Victory a far greater arc of fire. Victory also featured the first use of radio as a means of communication in a ship-to-ship basis, as well as ship-to-shore. This allowed Victories to communicate instantly not only with each other, but receive intelligence, reports and orders from land based units as well. Victory was 562 feet long, 93 wide amidships, drew 21 feet of water, and weighed over 27,000 tons. The main armament of a Victory was twelve 12 inch guns, mounted on three quadruple turrets. Her use of oil rather than coal and better designed, more powerful engines gave her much greater speed than her predecessor. Victories became one of the most numerous ships in the New England Navy, serving all over the world

Spoiler :
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Victory on a good will tour to New York City, shortly after Albany’s admittance into New England, 1913. Note the distinctive 4-gun turrets. Courtesy of the City of New York

Imperial

Upon its launching in 1919, the new Imperial class of Battleship showed the future of naval warfare. Her twelve 14 inch guns were the largest yet used on any ship (and set the precedent of new ships “upgunning” older models), and her improved armor, both on deck and below the waterline, helped shape all future battleship designs. Imperialdisplaced 33,000 tons, was 624 feet long, 99 feet wide and drew 31 feet. The Imperial class was also one of the fastest battleships ever designed. This gave the class a large advantage over its earlier contemporaries, primarily the Atlantic class Battleship. During the 3rd Battle of Jamaica in 1934, though outnumbered and under attack from two sides, the Imperial-class Battleship Twilight ((OOC: Not named after that abomination of a book series)), and the Victory-class Battleship Audacious held the United Collectives of North America’s fleet at bay, while New England troop transports evacuated from Jamaica. Though Audacious was sunk, firing her guns as she did so, Twilight was able to retreat through the shattered remains of the Socialist Union of South America’s fleet, using her superior speed to put distance between herself and the enemy and find shelter in Puerto Rico. She was sunk in the Communist air attack there the following year. Even after being overshadowed by larger classes such as the Eclipse and Titan, Imperials still saw service in the smaller and more far-flung New England fleets, and those of the former United Nation States of America.

Spoiler :
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The Imperial-class Battleship Twilight takes a direct hit amidships from a Communist Bomber during the Battle of Puerto Rico, just prior to sinking.

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The Imperial-class Battleship Conqueror fires at Arabian positions during the conflict with Rashid Arabia, 1939. Courtesy of the Naval War Museum.

Eclipse

With the unveiling of the Constantine-class Battleship by the Russians in 1929, New England naval thinkers began the process of creating a new level of Battleship. As had been the case before, and continues to this day, New England endeavored to stay at least one level above any potential opposition in terms of naval warfare. The Constantine offered a fair match to the Imperial, thus forcing a call for new designs. The product of this was the Eclipse, a huge, 845 foot long ship, 108 feet wide, drawing 36 feet of water. She mounted a main battery of nine 16 inch guns, along with numerous smaller weapons, including the first built in anti-air weapons to be incorporated on a warship. These twenty 5-inch cannons, also used against smaller ships, were designed to be able to shoot and destroy zeppelins, specifically Zeppelin Dreadnoughts. The guns could throw up flak and other anti aircraft rounds at a prodigious rate. There placement in ten twin turrets throughout the ship proved highly effective, with the fire from the Eclipse-class Battleships Executor and Exactor taking down numerous squadrons of Communist planes during the raid on Puerto Rico. Eclipses, when used in conjunction with Titans are able to inflict enormous damage on enemy warships, as witnessed by the near total destruction of the UCNA fleet off the coast of Puerto Rico in 1935

Spoiler :
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Eclipse sails out of Boston Harbor on patrol. Note the elongated bow and stern, making her almost as long as Titan would be upon her launching, 1933. Courtesy of the Naval War Museum

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The Eclipse-class Battleship Executor on patrol in the Caribbean during the Communist War. Note the camouflage pattern painted on her sides, to make her harder to spot from both ships and planes, 1936. Courtesy of the Puerto Rican War Museum.

Titan

The Titan-class Battleship is a giant among ships. Displacing over 70,000 tons fully loaded, Titan was 860 feet long, 130 feet wide and drew almost 35 feet. Her main armament was nine massive 18 inch naval guns. These monsters were capable of firing a shell weighing 3000 lbs over 26 miles, meaning that a Titan could engage enemy ships over the visual horizon. This first strike ability was augmented by the four scout biplanes that each Titan carried. Using radios, the small planes could signal back hits or misses, as well as the range to targets. They were seaplanes, lowered off the deck into the water by cranes on the ships stern, taking off and landing by sea. Titan was unique in being the first warship to carry such planes. Titan was also the first Battleship to feature anti aircraft emplacements specifically for shooting down enemy planes, rather than the larger guns for shooting attacking zeppelins.

Spoiler :
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A snapshot of Titan’s two forward turrets, each housing three 18 inch naval guns.

Spoiler :
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The Titan class Battleships Behemoth (foreground) and Imperial Spirit (background) at anchor outside of San Juan during the Communist war. The two ships formed the core of the new 4th Fleet, sent to replace and relieve those ships damaged and sunk during the 3rd Battle of Jamaica and later the Air Raid on Puerto Rico. It is believed that this picture was taken from the bridge of the Light Cruiser Providence in 1937. Courtesy of the Providence Historical Society.

Capital Class Ships in the New England Navy as of 1938

Victories
Victory
Illustrious
Defender
Interdictor
Fearless
Vanguard
Intrepid
Republic
Aegis
Harbinger
Aggressor
Repulse
Resolute
Thunder

Imperials
Imperial
Turbulent
Aurora
Torrent
Conqueror
Doombringer
Helot
Arbiter

Eclipses
Eclipse
Enforcer
Executor
Endurance
Eminence
Nimbus
Indomitable
Incursion

Titans
Titan
Behemoth
Imperial Spirit
Goliath
Colossus
Punisher
Juggernaut
 
"...cleaned them up in no time at all. The tin cans did a good job of that. There's a little hamlet to the East of here putting up resistance, but from here on out it's a simple job."

"That straightforward, huh? Seems awfully convenient," said Brigadier General Torres.

"Yeah, that straightforward," responded Lt. Colonel Agnew, who began searching his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

Torres looked out the window of the villa which had been converted to a field HQ, upon the flatlands and forests of Hungary. The climate was highly agreeable, as it was often during this time of year, and though the sun had not yet peeked from behind its cloudy sheathe there was nothing to inhibit operations. In a word, ideal. On a road at the foot of the small hill the villa was perched on, several sturdy-looking tanks could be seen moving, one after another, eastwards with a certain degree of purpose. No doubt, thought Torres, they were moving on to destroy their next targets. Much like the Frenchmen of the 1850s did, in Spain - no, best not to think about such things. That was treason. The thinking, if not the saying - they had a way of finding you. Torres' eyes darted to Agnew for a brief moment. Lieutenant Colonel - hah! He could easily undo any General he pleased. Lieutenant Colonel of the Army, maybe - anyway almost certainly a Major General of Securis.

"The Hungarians are idiots, you know, giving everyone a rifle and putting nobody in armor, nobody in planes," mused Agnew as he picked a cigarette from its resting place.

"They didn't have the capacity for it," said Torres in a low voice.

"Uh-huh," said Agnew. He held the cigarette upright by mistake and the tobacco fell to the floor. "Thanks, Paris," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. Maybe not in Securis, thought Torres. You could never be sure, however.

"So when do you suppose the operation will be complete?" asked Torres as innocuously as he could manage.

"Easily within a day or two, I can imagine nothing to stilt our progress," said Agnew with a plain wave of his hand, as if to say that no other possibility was realistic.

A knock came on Torres' "office" door, a short rap that beat itself out in six sharp subsequent hits. "Come in."

In came a fresh-faced young soldier, looking healthy and fit in all but his complexion which had a deathly paleness, as of a pall that had overcome him entirely in a fit of fear mixed with doubt. This immediately caught Torres' attention and even Agnew was bothered to spare a glance.

"Sir, we're being counterattacked!" said the soldier in between breaths.

Torres' left eyebrow went up and his enthusiasm ebbed. "Then counter-counterattack. The Hungarians won't last much longer."

"No, sir, they aren't Hungarians," continued the soldier, rushing his syllables as he still tried to suck in air, "They're wearing brown."

"That's funny," snorted Agnew, "Why would Hungarians be wearing Russian uniforms?"

Torres had a little more sense than to think that.
 
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