The Boys In Blue: a New Zealand dictatorship TL
- Thread starter Maeglin
- Start date
Slater and the NZ Truth
I wonder what the headlines in the NZ Truth are like and whether Sid Holland like with the editor is common knowledge...history repeats!
I wonder what the headlines in the NZ Truth are like and whether Sid Holland like with the editor is common knowledge...history repeats!
Cabinet:
Prime Minister: Robert (Bob) Semple
Attorney General: Rex Mason
Minister of Defence: Robert (Bob) Semple
Minister of Education: Terry McCombs
Minister of Finance: Walter Nash
Minister of Foreign Affairs: Frank Langstone
Minister of Health: Gervan McMillan
Minister of Industry: Paddy Webb
Minister of Justice: Rex Mason
Minister of Labour: F.P. Walsh
Minister of Maori Affairs: Rex Mason
Minister of Police: Peter Fraser
Minister of Railways: Robert (Bob) Semple
Minister of Social Welfare: Arnold Nordmeyer
The post-election Semple cabinet was notable firstly for the return of Nash. Payne was now old, and unwilling to carry the burden of hefty responsibilities, so the Finance position had fallen vacant. Since Lee was still sitting in enforced exile, there was no better opportunity for Semple to bring back his old colleague.
Walter Nash
With Semple's tacit approval, Nash gave a speech just before Christmas, where he indicated that the Government would pause its nationalisation programme for the medium term.
"I think it is time we in the Labour Party had a nice cup of tea and a breather," Nash told his colleagues. "Too much change too fast is bad for your health." According to several sources, including Mason, Lee had then stood up, and walked out of the room without saying a word.
Savage meanwhile was now clearly too ill to perform ministerial duties, so Semple decided to bring in fresh blood. Gervan McMillan was not only of the Left of the party, but also had a background as a medical practitioner. If he couldn't stop the Health sector turning into long-running ballsup, no-one could. Arnold Nordmeyer, a similarly radical new face, had been a Presbyterian minister before entering politics, and was now tasked with building on Payne's work at Social Welfare. To balance out the cabinet ideologically, Semple promoted moderate Peter Fraser to Minister of Police, noting that Fraser, like himself, had once served jail time for opposing wartime conscription.
"Never trust a man who hasn't been on the wrong side of the law once or twice," Semple told reporters on announcing his cabinet. In hindsight, it was a sentence the Prime Minister would come to regret.
The Government's apparent move to the centre not only angered Lee's admirers on the radical Left, but also did little to curb the blood-curdling rhetoric coming out of the New Zealand Legion. Now closing in on one hundred thousand members if Campbell was to be believed, some members took to organising themselves as a combat force. Recalling the dreaded Massey Cossacks of 1913, "volunteer constables" who had been used by the State to crush striking workers, this new generation of reactionaries on horseback spent weekends training for what they considered the inevitable confrontation with the Reds.
The Legion on horseback
Eric Campbell, who retained close communication with fellow legionnaire Sidney Holland and other Parliamentary liaison points, had learned from his mistakes in New South Wales. Too much public aggression and chest-beating, and his erstwhile supporters among New Zealand's rich and powerful would turn on him. No, as Holland stressed, they had to slowly build up strength. Infiltrate the police and military, be watchful, and success would come. Even Campbell, however, could not restrain the enthusiasm of some farmers' sons, who were itching to give those socialists in the towns a good licking. In late January, 1939, a tragic murder case in the South Canterbury town of Waimate brought the organisation some unwanted headlines. 20 year-old Jeremiah M'Carthy, who had been participating in a legion training exercise, allegedly rode down a 16 year-old roof-painter named Norman Eric Kirk, while Kirk was walking home that evening.
Newspaper article on the murder
M'Carthy argued that it was a tragic accident, and that his horse had been startled by Kirk shouting abuse at him. The young man's pleas were unsuccessful, however, and the jury returned a guilty verdict. He was sentenced to life in prison.
The M'Carthy-Kirk case prompted a heated Cabinet debate as to what to do about the Legion.
"Can't we just ban them?" Bob Semple is supposed to have asked. "Let the papers complain for a week, and those bloody farmers will go back to killing rabbits, rather than 16 year olds."
Rex Mason twitched. "I'm not sure it's as simple as that, Bob. I mean, yes, we have the power to do that. Or more accurately, Parliament does, and it's delegated us the authority under the Public Safety Conservation Act 1932. But there's a hundred thousand of those buggers now, and the likes of Sid Holland and Downie Stewart will be screaming that we'll try to ban the Nats and the UDP too. We'll never live that down."
Peter Fraser spoke up, his Scottish accent still clear after all these years. "We're a free country. We're not Soviet Russia. Let them do as they please, but if any of them are caught breaking the law, we'll throw the book at them."
Fintan Patrick Walsh, the dour and dark Minister of Labour, had a good laugh at that. His eyes gleamed.
"Ah, such a convert to the path of legality now, eh, Peter? You weren't like that in the old days, were you now?"
Walsh had built a formidable reputation as a ruthless and sometimes brutal enforcer within the trade union movement. He knew where the bodies were buried, as the saying went, if only because he had buried most of them himself. In switching from trade union politics to parliamentary politics, his power base among the rank and file had ensured him a near-automatic Cabinet post. No-one loved him though, and more than a few of his colleagues, including Bob Semple himself, were glad that the man's ambitions did not seem to extend much beyond presiding over the Ministry of Labour.
F.P. Walsh
"Then what do you suggest we do?" said Fraser.
Walsh smiled again. "You're partly right, Peter. We're not Soviet Russia, and we can all thank our lucky stars for that. But here's the thing: the Legion is partly right too. No-one knows the backways of unionism in this country as well as I do, and I can tell you that there are plenty of Communists running around out there in the streets of Auckland, Greymouth, Lyttelton. Plenty in the pay of Moscow, following the path laid down by the Great Stalin, and many of them believe it with the fervour of religion. Some of them make poor crazy Jack look like harmless old Walter here. So I say, we do a deal with Campbell and friends. We, or I, or friends of mine, give certain people certain addresses, the Legion moves in, takes out certain enemies, and no-one will ever think we're pawns of Molotov ever again."
"Please don't ever suggest that in my hearing ever again," snapped the Prime Minister.
Prime Minister: Robert (Bob) Semple
Attorney General: Rex Mason
Minister of Defence: Robert (Bob) Semple
Minister of Education: Terry McCombs
Minister of Finance: Walter Nash
Minister of Foreign Affairs: Frank Langstone
Minister of Health: Gervan McMillan
Minister of Industry: Paddy Webb
Minister of Justice: Rex Mason
Minister of Labour: F.P. Walsh
Minister of Maori Affairs: Rex Mason
Minister of Police: Peter Fraser
Minister of Railways: Robert (Bob) Semple
Minister of Social Welfare: Arnold Nordmeyer
The post-election Semple cabinet was notable firstly for the return of Nash. Payne was now old, and unwilling to carry the burden of hefty responsibilities, so the Finance position had fallen vacant. Since Lee was still sitting in enforced exile, there was no better opportunity for Semple to bring back his old colleague.
Walter Nash
With Semple's tacit approval, Nash gave a speech just before Christmas, where he indicated that the Government would pause its nationalisation programme for the medium term.
"I think it is time we in the Labour Party had a nice cup of tea and a breather," Nash told his colleagues. "Too much change too fast is bad for your health." According to several sources, including Mason, Lee had then stood up, and walked out of the room without saying a word.
Savage meanwhile was now clearly too ill to perform ministerial duties, so Semple decided to bring in fresh blood. Gervan McMillan was not only of the Left of the party, but also had a background as a medical practitioner. If he couldn't stop the Health sector turning into long-running ballsup, no-one could. Arnold Nordmeyer, a similarly radical new face, had been a Presbyterian minister before entering politics, and was now tasked with building on Payne's work at Social Welfare. To balance out the cabinet ideologically, Semple promoted moderate Peter Fraser to Minister of Police, noting that Fraser, like himself, had once served jail time for opposing wartime conscription.
"Never trust a man who hasn't been on the wrong side of the law once or twice," Semple told reporters on announcing his cabinet. In hindsight, it was a sentence the Prime Minister would come to regret.
The Government's apparent move to the centre not only angered Lee's admirers on the radical Left, but also did little to curb the blood-curdling rhetoric coming out of the New Zealand Legion. Now closing in on one hundred thousand members if Campbell was to be believed, some members took to organising themselves as a combat force. Recalling the dreaded Massey Cossacks of 1913, "volunteer constables" who had been used by the State to crush striking workers, this new generation of reactionaries on horseback spent weekends training for what they considered the inevitable confrontation with the Reds.
The Legion on horseback
Eric Campbell, who retained close communication with fellow legionnaire Sidney Holland and other Parliamentary liaison points, had learned from his mistakes in New South Wales. Too much public aggression and chest-beating, and his erstwhile supporters among New Zealand's rich and powerful would turn on him. No, as Holland stressed, they had to slowly build up strength. Infiltrate the police and military, be watchful, and success would come. Even Campbell, however, could not restrain the enthusiasm of some farmers' sons, who were itching to give those socialists in the towns a good licking. In late January, 1939, a tragic murder case in the South Canterbury town of Waimate brought the organisation some unwanted headlines. 20 year-old Jeremiah M'Carthy, who had been participating in a legion training exercise, allegedly rode down a 16 year-old roof-painter named Norman Eric Kirk, while Kirk was walking home that evening.
Newspaper article on the murder
M'Carthy argued that it was a tragic accident, and that his horse had been startled by Kirk shouting abuse at him. The young man's pleas were unsuccessful, however, and the jury returned a guilty verdict. He was sentenced to life in prison.
The M'Carthy-Kirk case prompted a heated Cabinet debate as to what to do about the Legion.
"Can't we just ban them?" Bob Semple is supposed to have asked. "Let the papers complain for a week, and those bloody farmers will go back to killing rabbits, rather than 16 year olds."
Rex Mason twitched. "I'm not sure it's as simple as that, Bob. I mean, yes, we have the power to do that. Or more accurately, Parliament does, and it's delegated us the authority under the Public Safety Conservation Act 1932. But there's a hundred thousand of those buggers now, and the likes of Sid Holland and Downie Stewart will be screaming that we'll try to ban the Nats and the UDP too. We'll never live that down."
Peter Fraser spoke up, his Scottish accent still clear after all these years. "We're a free country. We're not Soviet Russia. Let them do as they please, but if any of them are caught breaking the law, we'll throw the book at them."
Fintan Patrick Walsh, the dour and dark Minister of Labour, had a good laugh at that. His eyes gleamed.
"Ah, such a convert to the path of legality now, eh, Peter? You weren't like that in the old days, were you now?"
Walsh had built a formidable reputation as a ruthless and sometimes brutal enforcer within the trade union movement. He knew where the bodies were buried, as the saying went, if only because he had buried most of them himself. In switching from trade union politics to parliamentary politics, his power base among the rank and file had ensured him a near-automatic Cabinet post. No-one loved him though, and more than a few of his colleagues, including Bob Semple himself, were glad that the man's ambitions did not seem to extend much beyond presiding over the Ministry of Labour.
F.P. Walsh
"Then what do you suggest we do?" said Fraser.
Walsh smiled again. "You're partly right, Peter. We're not Soviet Russia, and we can all thank our lucky stars for that. But here's the thing: the Legion is partly right too. No-one knows the backways of unionism in this country as well as I do, and I can tell you that there are plenty of Communists running around out there in the streets of Auckland, Greymouth, Lyttelton. Plenty in the pay of Moscow, following the path laid down by the Great Stalin, and many of them believe it with the fervour of religion. Some of them make poor crazy Jack look like harmless old Walter here. So I say, we do a deal with Campbell and friends. We, or I, or friends of mine, give certain people certain addresses, the Legion moves in, takes out certain enemies, and no-one will ever think we're pawns of Molotov ever again."
"Please don't ever suggest that in my hearing ever again," snapped the Prime Minister.
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Caucus support for Gordon Coates melted like snow under the summer sun after Ngata's defection to the Speaker's chair. With now just one seat more than the U.D.P., National MPs readily agreed that something had to change if they were to survive. So it was that by Christmas 1938, Sidney Holland was secure in his new position as Leader of the His Majesty's Loyal Opposition, with the Christchurch businessman and secret legionnaire given a free hand in setting the party's direction. Now began the long, but ultimately rewarding, task of putting the New Zealand Right back together.
Sidney Holland
There were two priorities, one easier to achieve than the other. The first was to distance the National Party from the still-poisonous legacy of the Depression-era Reform-United coalition. Policy-wise, Holland decided that obsessively campaigning against everything Labour stood for made the party sound shrill and dogmatic. Certainly, there was much about the red tide that needed undone, especially the downright satanic economic and financial policies, but National had to face the fact that the Government's social welfare reforms were still popular. Indeed, those reforms had probably saved Labour, after all its other first term shenanigans and outrageous abuses of power. Holland therefore declared
"... a future National Government will maintain Labour's social security while restoring, under free enterprise, the spiritual values of liberty, individual initiative, and loyalty to the traditions of empire."
A noted Dunedin historian has recently suggested that Sid Holland meant to save liberty in the same way Emperor Augustus meant to save the Roman Republic. But, true or not, such considerations were for the future. In the present, Holland's overarching concern was gaining control of the treasury benches. As for personnel, this was achieved by not-so-politely getting Coates and his residual collection of yesterday's men to retire. A series of by-elections in safe National seats took place over the course of 1939, each resulting in the arrival of new and more vigorous blood. More often than not, the new men were card-carrying members of the Legion, among whom was noted legal intellectual Ronald Algie, of Remuera.
Ronald Algie
Algie's own Freedom Association had been swallowed up by the larger organisation in 1937, when it realised that they shared the same basic principles of loyalty to the Empire and hatred of socialism. Algie also self-identified as a "Tory in the old tradition," which was just the sort of respectability the Legion needed. Holland's inner group now had brains to match Campbell's brawn. Holland did, however, make a point of keeping his extra-parliamentary friends at arm's length, especially after the M'Carthy-Kirk fiasco.
"We can't frighten the horses, Eric," he'd told Campbell in early February, 1939. "That means no salutes, no uniforms, and no random murders. Understand? Next time you do something in public, ask whether a housewife in Hamilton would approve first."
But rejuvenating the National Party was simply one facet of Holland's work. His other, and much tougher, challenge was bringing the U.D.P. back to National, thereby healing the rift that had allowed socialism to survive and thrive. If even half of U.D.P. voters switched to National at the next election, that would be enough to topple Semple and his men. Initially, Holland thought the simple act of removing Coates would be enough to mollify Downie Stewart. But the U.D.P. leader had discovered that he liked having control of his own party. He refused point blank to any reunification talks, using Holland's own "moderate" persona as evidence that the United Democratic Party was the one true anti-Labour party, and the last redoubt for those who could never forgive National's acceptance of economic interventionism.
Attempted reunification talks proved fruitless throughout mid-1939. Labour watched with interest, secretly willing each side into ever greater degrees of stubbornness, and knowing that its own future hinged on the outcome. Then, on 30th August, 1939, New Zealanders woke to find an unexpected headline in the New Zealand Herald:
"DOWNIE STEWART DIES IN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT. COUNTRY MOURNS."
The U.D.P. leader had driven his car off the road in what was agreed by all to be a most tragic accident. Sid Holland put the newspaper down and went to pour himself some brandy as he anticipated a meeting with the much more malleable Thomas Hislop.
Eric Campbell's boys clearly knew a thing or two about tinkering with car steering wheels...
Sidney Holland
There were two priorities, one easier to achieve than the other. The first was to distance the National Party from the still-poisonous legacy of the Depression-era Reform-United coalition. Policy-wise, Holland decided that obsessively campaigning against everything Labour stood for made the party sound shrill and dogmatic. Certainly, there was much about the red tide that needed undone, especially the downright satanic economic and financial policies, but National had to face the fact that the Government's social welfare reforms were still popular. Indeed, those reforms had probably saved Labour, after all its other first term shenanigans and outrageous abuses of power. Holland therefore declared
"... a future National Government will maintain Labour's social security while restoring, under free enterprise, the spiritual values of liberty, individual initiative, and loyalty to the traditions of empire."
A noted Dunedin historian has recently suggested that Sid Holland meant to save liberty in the same way Emperor Augustus meant to save the Roman Republic. But, true or not, such considerations were for the future. In the present, Holland's overarching concern was gaining control of the treasury benches. As for personnel, this was achieved by not-so-politely getting Coates and his residual collection of yesterday's men to retire. A series of by-elections in safe National seats took place over the course of 1939, each resulting in the arrival of new and more vigorous blood. More often than not, the new men were card-carrying members of the Legion, among whom was noted legal intellectual Ronald Algie, of Remuera.
Ronald Algie
Algie's own Freedom Association had been swallowed up by the larger organisation in 1937, when it realised that they shared the same basic principles of loyalty to the Empire and hatred of socialism. Algie also self-identified as a "Tory in the old tradition," which was just the sort of respectability the Legion needed. Holland's inner group now had brains to match Campbell's brawn. Holland did, however, make a point of keeping his extra-parliamentary friends at arm's length, especially after the M'Carthy-Kirk fiasco.
"We can't frighten the horses, Eric," he'd told Campbell in early February, 1939. "That means no salutes, no uniforms, and no random murders. Understand? Next time you do something in public, ask whether a housewife in Hamilton would approve first."
But rejuvenating the National Party was simply one facet of Holland's work. His other, and much tougher, challenge was bringing the U.D.P. back to National, thereby healing the rift that had allowed socialism to survive and thrive. If even half of U.D.P. voters switched to National at the next election, that would be enough to topple Semple and his men. Initially, Holland thought the simple act of removing Coates would be enough to mollify Downie Stewart. But the U.D.P. leader had discovered that he liked having control of his own party. He refused point blank to any reunification talks, using Holland's own "moderate" persona as evidence that the United Democratic Party was the one true anti-Labour party, and the last redoubt for those who could never forgive National's acceptance of economic interventionism.
Attempted reunification talks proved fruitless throughout mid-1939. Labour watched with interest, secretly willing each side into ever greater degrees of stubbornness, and knowing that its own future hinged on the outcome. Then, on 30th August, 1939, New Zealanders woke to find an unexpected headline in the New Zealand Herald:
"DOWNIE STEWART DIES IN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT. COUNTRY MOURNS."
The U.D.P. leader had driven his car off the road in what was agreed by all to be a most tragic accident. Sid Holland put the newspaper down and went to pour himself some brandy as he anticipated a meeting with the much more malleable Thomas Hislop.
Eric Campbell's boys clearly knew a thing or two about tinkering with car steering wheels...
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(A quick historical note on the last scene: during the great 1951 Waterfront Dispute in OTL, prominent New Zealand unionist Toby Hill found his car steering wheel tinkered with in a pretty blatant attempt to kill him and his family. Whether that was the act of people belonging to Holland or Walsh is debatable, but the point is that dark things happened in OTL Holland's New Zealand - it is certainly not out of the question for those things to get much darker when you add a mass quasi-fascist movement).
This is a very enjoyable timeline and story, I look forward to reading how this plays out. Can I make a small suggestion, and you give the photos a legend or description as I think I can see who each photo is supposed to show but it would be a little clearer if you state it?
The steering wheel incident featured in a 50th anniversary New Zealand TV documentary about the Waterfront Dispute. The documentary makers interviewed Toby Hill's daughter, who was in the car at the time, and recalls her father discovering the sabotage. Here's an online clip of the documentary (see clip 3, from about the 8.30 minute mark onwards):
http://www.nzonscreen.com/title/1951-2001
As for who was responsible, we'll never know. We do know that Toby Hill was the second most hated man in New Zealand at the time, as far as both Sidney Holland and Fintan Patrick Walsh were concerned.
I can't seem to watch the video, but I will try when I get home.
Interesting thoughts, but I am skeptical considering the source is the daughter, but I wouldn't put it past anyone considering the time a context. I will try and watch the video to get the lowdown.
Anyway, please continue, enjoying it so far!
"It is with deep regret and sadness that I make this announcement on behalf of the Government, and the people will receive it with similar feelings. That will not, however, affect the determination of both Government and people to play their part." - Robert Semple*, 3rd September, 1939.
*Legend has it that the Prime Minister employed a speechwriter for the occasion. The speech does lack Bob Semple's favoured expletives.
War declared on Germany
The mood in the Prime Minister's office was grim. There was no use for it: all the ill-feeling against the Chamberlain Government had to be put to one side for the good of the country. Bob Semple would have been tempted to break out the hard liquor, were it not for the heavy preponderance of teetotallers in Cabinet. Well that and the fact that Paddy Webb had already borrowed his gin for an all-night office party with three attractive single ladies. It had been bad enough when Webb had been chased into a broom closet by a woman claiming that the Minister of Mines and Industry had promised marriage. Walter had got her a job with the National Commercial Broadcasting Service just to get rid of her. Such was modern politics.
"We are doing the right thing," said Rex Mason, bringing Semple's attention back to the matter at hand. "Fascism must be fought."
"And look on the bright side," said Arnold Nordmeyer. "There'll be no more funny business from London for a while."
Still, Cabinet had opted to deliver a Declaration of War separate from Britain. Australia might still hold to the old rule that when the King declared war, the Empire followed as one, but New Zealand, only a year after the shenanigans that had forced the adoption of the Statute of Westminister, had chosen to make a point. We're doing this because we're against them, not because we're still your little colonial toadies.
"You realise, gentlemen," said Semple, "that we have an elephant in the room."
"The Legion?" asked Mason. "A war's just the thing to fix militarism. If they're so keen on militarism, we send them over to Europe to see the real thing."
"I don't mean the Legion. Though if you think letting our home-grown brownshirts anywhere near our military equipment is a bright idea, Rex, you really need your head read."
"Conscription?" said Terry McCombs, the Minister of Education. "We're not introducing that, surely? You and Peter went to prison for opposing that, back in the Great War."
"No, we're not introducing bloody conscription," snapped Semple. "I mean Jack. He'll be so bloody smug. This is the biggest bloody 'I told you so' moment since, well, ever."
"Language, Prime Minister," said Nordmeyer, sternly. The habits of a Presbyterian minister died hard.
"Sorry, Arnold. But, yes, what to do about Jack? We sacked him for telling the world that Munich was a bunch of lies, which we all knew, and now we're at war anyway. He'll want reinstatement."
"I'm resigning if Jack returns," said Nash. Fraser nodded too.
"Thank you for that constructive display," said Semple. "If you lot spend as much time fighting the Nats and the Nazis as you do each other, Adolf's head will be on the end of a bayonet come next Tuesday. Now get out of my office. All of you - we have a war to win, and we need to get to work."
***
"It's a masterpiece, isn't it?" said Semple. He held up the bit of paper so that his Ministers could see it better. "If our friends overseas aren't going to ship us some proper tanks, we can make our own. So simple! All you need is a tractor or three, some sheets of corrugated iron, and some welding gear. Hey presto, you've got a top-line fighting machine."
"What are you going to call it?" said Peter Fraser, taking off his spectacles for a closer look.
"Well," said the Prime Minister, "I don't mean to be an egotist, but I think the Bob Semple tank works pretty well as a name."
"What do our Defence staff think of this?" said Nash.
The Bob Semple tank
Semple smiled. "They said there would be some issues with manoeuvring, but I think technical issues like that can be dealt with in the next prototype. I've suggested that the gunner on top lie on a mattress for comfort."
Nash grimaced. "And you envisage our forces overseas using these things?"
Semple shrugged. "Eventually. We can use them at home too." His face hardened. "Against the Legion, if need be."
***
"You know, Sid, we have members out there who think supporting war with Hitler is a big mistake. They reckon we would be better off backing Germany against Stalin. It's the Reds who are the enemies, as we've always said."
"This would be the same Hitler and Stalin who are currently in a non-aggression pact?" said Sidney Holland.
"Yes," said Eric Campbell, "but you know as well as I that it's just a ruse."
"Ruse or not," said Sidney Holland, "you forget who were are. Loyal servants of the Empire. We are British or we are nothing, do you understand?"
"Yes, but..."
"Training exercises continue, but we are to support the war-effort. Even if it is run by Labour."
*Legend has it that the Prime Minister employed a speechwriter for the occasion. The speech does lack Bob Semple's favoured expletives.
War declared on Germany
The mood in the Prime Minister's office was grim. There was no use for it: all the ill-feeling against the Chamberlain Government had to be put to one side for the good of the country. Bob Semple would have been tempted to break out the hard liquor, were it not for the heavy preponderance of teetotallers in Cabinet. Well that and the fact that Paddy Webb had already borrowed his gin for an all-night office party with three attractive single ladies. It had been bad enough when Webb had been chased into a broom closet by a woman claiming that the Minister of Mines and Industry had promised marriage. Walter had got her a job with the National Commercial Broadcasting Service just to get rid of her. Such was modern politics.
"We are doing the right thing," said Rex Mason, bringing Semple's attention back to the matter at hand. "Fascism must be fought."
"And look on the bright side," said Arnold Nordmeyer. "There'll be no more funny business from London for a while."
Still, Cabinet had opted to deliver a Declaration of War separate from Britain. Australia might still hold to the old rule that when the King declared war, the Empire followed as one, but New Zealand, only a year after the shenanigans that had forced the adoption of the Statute of Westminister, had chosen to make a point. We're doing this because we're against them, not because we're still your little colonial toadies.
"You realise, gentlemen," said Semple, "that we have an elephant in the room."
"The Legion?" asked Mason. "A war's just the thing to fix militarism. If they're so keen on militarism, we send them over to Europe to see the real thing."
"I don't mean the Legion. Though if you think letting our home-grown brownshirts anywhere near our military equipment is a bright idea, Rex, you really need your head read."
"Conscription?" said Terry McCombs, the Minister of Education. "We're not introducing that, surely? You and Peter went to prison for opposing that, back in the Great War."
"No, we're not introducing bloody conscription," snapped Semple. "I mean Jack. He'll be so bloody smug. This is the biggest bloody 'I told you so' moment since, well, ever."
"Language, Prime Minister," said Nordmeyer, sternly. The habits of a Presbyterian minister died hard.
"Sorry, Arnold. But, yes, what to do about Jack? We sacked him for telling the world that Munich was a bunch of lies, which we all knew, and now we're at war anyway. He'll want reinstatement."
"I'm resigning if Jack returns," said Nash. Fraser nodded too.
"Thank you for that constructive display," said Semple. "If you lot spend as much time fighting the Nats and the Nazis as you do each other, Adolf's head will be on the end of a bayonet come next Tuesday. Now get out of my office. All of you - we have a war to win, and we need to get to work."
***
"It's a masterpiece, isn't it?" said Semple. He held up the bit of paper so that his Ministers could see it better. "If our friends overseas aren't going to ship us some proper tanks, we can make our own. So simple! All you need is a tractor or three, some sheets of corrugated iron, and some welding gear. Hey presto, you've got a top-line fighting machine."
"What are you going to call it?" said Peter Fraser, taking off his spectacles for a closer look.
"Well," said the Prime Minister, "I don't mean to be an egotist, but I think the Bob Semple tank works pretty well as a name."
"What do our Defence staff think of this?" said Nash.
The Bob Semple tank
Semple smiled. "They said there would be some issues with manoeuvring, but I think technical issues like that can be dealt with in the next prototype. I've suggested that the gunner on top lie on a mattress for comfort."
Nash grimaced. "And you envisage our forces overseas using these things?"
Semple shrugged. "Eventually. We can use them at home too." His face hardened. "Against the Legion, if need be."
***
"You know, Sid, we have members out there who think supporting war with Hitler is a big mistake. They reckon we would be better off backing Germany against Stalin. It's the Reds who are the enemies, as we've always said."
"This would be the same Hitler and Stalin who are currently in a non-aggression pact?" said Sidney Holland.
"Yes," said Eric Campbell, "but you know as well as I that it's just a ruse."
"Ruse or not," said Sidney Holland, "you forget who were are. Loyal servants of the Empire. We are British or we are nothing, do you understand?"
"Yes, but..."
"Training exercises continue, but we are to support the war-effort. Even if it is run by Labour."
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If they have any sense the Semple tank will never get built, however, might the basic chassis make a useful basis for a very basic assault gun type deal?
Errolwi
Monthly Donor
Minor point, doesn't the adoption of SoW require a separate declaration (as done by Canada and SA OTL). The public might be confused about this, but I hope the Cabinet isn't! OTL AU didn't adopt it until later, backdating some aspects to September 1939.
Damn good point. After a bit of further investigation, I think it was considered uncertain at the time.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/globe-debate/going-to-war-parliament-will-decide/article4287580/
Canada eventually decided that the Statute required a separate declaration of war, but Canada declared war nearly a week (9th September) after New Zealand (3rd September), so until that happened, I think it's reasonable that New Zealand considered such a declaration optional.
The Ministry of Defence has enough sense not to build them, and they won't get used in WWII (this was simply Defence staff being polite to the Prime Minister). They will get used in other circumstances though...