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Power Is Truth
The Sun Rises Yet Again
Chapter 20: Power Is Truth
February 15, 1926
Blair stands at his post watching over the trenches. He hates being here, these lines were built for Spaniards and his 6' stature meant he was very exposed compared to them, especially when walking. He had been shot at several times, but Lady Luck seemed to favor him. He makes several glances across the land between the trenches, staring at the Republican line, he wonders what they were thinking. He often found himself bored out of his right mind, something he certainly did not expect when he enlisted last year. Fighting had mostly halted over the Winter months and he enjoyed the peace, despite its drollness.
He couldn't wait to return home, to tell people the things he had seen and maybe write something about it. He had fought in the Battle of Madrid and saw the ruined city after the battle had ended months ago. He saw Yagüe and his men hurting and killing innocents and raping women. He had tried to stop them whenever he came across it but his commanding officer put a stop to that as Montgomery had said, "It is not the duty not of Britons to govern Spaniards". This deeply concerned him and made him feel uneasy about the state of the war.
He remembered how he first joined the party. In the early 20s', things were rough. He had no job as his idea of serving as a colonial police officer in Burma near Moulmein, where his grandmother lived, was dashed when India broke away from the Empire. He had been unable to find employment as the Great Depression rocked the British economy and he feared for his future and the future of Jacintha. He then received news his grandmother was killed by Indian soldiers in an act of revenge against Burmese partisans raiding their camp. He grew a deep-seated hatred for both Burmese and Indians as well as non-Whites as a whole. Then he took notice of the rising star in British politics, Oswald Mosley. He was greatly attracted to Mosley, his strong and authoritative ideas, his impassioned and hard-hitting speeches, and paternal aura all helped to bring comfort to Blair in these hard times. He had thought long and hard over how he felt about Mosley and what started as interest in just another politician grew into a downright infatuated devotion, respect, and fealty to Mosley on the level of a father-son relationship. As the economy rose following Mosley's victory in 1924, Blair managed to find work and keep him and his wife fed and housed, something he would thank Mosley for at dinner every night until Jacintha told him to stop as even as Vicky herself she found it annoying; Blair would continue to thank Mosley for his luck mentally. He would join the army sometime in mid 1925 in order to partake in the Spanish Civil War. Since then he has fought in his fair share of battles, killed his fair share of Germans and Communists and was hoping the Republicans would lose the will to fight soon, ensuring total victory and peace.
As he sits there, he feels a pain develop in his back, most likely from being hunched over all the time. He decides he should stand up and stretch out, if only for a little bit. As he does, a Spanish man, not a common sight in this section of the trench at this time of day, approaches him and asks him what he is doing and if he wants to get his head blown off. Blair reassures the man that he is fine and that he should calm down. The two talk about whatever comes to their mind while Blair stretches. He asks him why he was in the British section of the trench and he tells him there is no official rule saying that travel between the different sections was forbidden or even discouraged during relatively peaceful times like this. Both seem happy as this may be the first interesting conversation either has had for some time. Each one has an array of questions for the other, so close yet so distant in trenches, something that was not lost on either of them. As they continue talking Blair finally finishes and goes to stand against the trench parapet to see if anything is amiss. Just before he does an officer calls out his name several feet away. He answers immediately and runs to him.
British Officer
"Are you Eric Arthur Blair?"
Eric Blair
"Yes Sir."
British Officer
"Well I've good news for you Eric, seems like you're going home early."
Eric Blair
"Really? Why?"
British Officer
"Have you never heard of the phrase, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'? Fine, I'll indulge you. Apparently, someone big back home wants to see you and they pulled out all the stops to get you back as quick a possible, even Marshall Fuller personally overseeing your return. I have no idea who in Britain who knows you and is important enough to get the personal attention of Fuller, but you'll find out soon enough."
Eric Blair
"When do I leave?"
British Officer
"Tomorrow morning. Get packing lad. God speed."
The officer walks away, attending his other duties. Blair is ecstatic and wonders who it could be that wants to meet him, puzzled by his lack of finding a logical answer. He returns to his post, with the man he was talking to a moment ago awaiting his return. He asked him what the officer had to say and Blair told him he was going to leave tomorrow and head back to Britain. The man laughed and remarked at his luck. Blair moves to collect his belongings so that he can leave in the morning. The man moves to stand against the parapet to look across the divide. That is when a bullet strikes him in the head, killing him instantly. Blair curses out loud in shock and sees the mans bloody face, his body still shaking with the final spasms that death allows before limpness overtakes it. He rushes to the man to try and save him but quickly realizes that he is shot in the head and that there is nothing he can do. This man, he had never even knew existed before this hour, and him vice versa, that he found some pleasure in talking to for those short moments, dead. He saved his life, he surely would've looked right there and would've been shot and killed. He never asked him for his name, and he didn't know Blair's. He quickly moved to check his body for anything that could tell him name, all the while snipers from both sides fired at each other. He finds a wallet and opens it and finds that the man's name is, or rather was, Gomez Vela. In the wallet were pictures of his wife and their daughter, he takes the picture out and looks on the back and finds the names Cecilia and Isabel, not sure which is the wive's and which is the daughter's, and a name of what must be where he lived, Bembibre. He closes the mans eyes and prays over his body. He then continues to look over his body, finding a pendant made out of gold with a picture of his daughter in it, no name unfortunately. He knows that if he leaves it with him, it will most likely never reach the family, lifted by someone to pawn for money. He swears to the man's bloody and lifeless face that he will return the pendant to his family. A soldier and a medic come to see the body and carry him away to where the dead lie.
He continues to pack his things and once done he returns to his post, careful not to let the fate of Gomez become his.
In the morning, he wakes up and waits until a messenger arrives and leads him to the car. He enters into it and the driver begins the journey to Porto. Blair sits in the car, still fixing over who called him back and why. Still no satisfactory answer was given. He did not talk to his driver, he was not in the mood. After 9 hours or so they reach the city and the driver leads him to the port and he boards the ship. As he heads to his quarters to rest as he is told that once they reach Plymouth they will fly to London and that once they're in the city the man who requested Blair's return wanted to speak to him immediately. Blair asked who was he but the men told him they were not informed, everything is on a need-to-know basis. Blair showers, changes clothing, and sleeps through the rest voyage. He is awakened just before they pull into port. He departs the ship and enters a new car and is driven to a nearby airfield where a two-seater plane and a pilot are waiting. He enters the back seat and the plane takes off. Blair has never been in a plane before and stared in awe as he grew further apart from the ground. he looks at the clouds and at the horizon. It was one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The journey ends sooner than Blair would like and he enters London by car less than an hour after boarding the plane. He is driven into the city while his possessions are handled and brought to his house. This is it. The anticipation was driving him mad. He speaks to the driver.
Eric Blair
"Sir, can you please tell me where we are heading?"
Driver
"They haven't told you yet? We're heading to Number 10."
Eric Blair
"Pardon?"
Driver
"You're going to speak with PM Mosley. They didn't tell you?"
Blair felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body. His breathing quickened, his heart speeds up. The driver, visibly concerned at this sudden reaction asks him if he was all right. Blair responds.
Eric Blair
"Yes, yes I'm fine. Just a bit, surprised."
Driver
"I'd probably feel the same way in your shoes. Not everyday us regular people get to meet the PM face-to-face in private. I don't know what you did to get his attention, but he seemed eager to meet to you."
Soon they reach 10 Downing Street.
Driver
"Well that it is lad. He's in there. Best to not keep him waiting."
Eric Blair
"Yes, thank you."
Blair exits the car and walks to the door. He takes one last breath to calm himself and it works somewhat, and enters in, stiff upper lip and all. The servants inform him that he is in his office and that he is ready for him. He thanks them and walks there. He looks at the door, steels himself one last time and enters.
Oswald Mosley
"Hello Mr. Blair."
Eric Blair
"Hello Your Excellency. May I sit down?"
Oswald Mosley
"Of course, please."
Blair sits down opposite of Mosley.
Oswald Mosley
"Do you know why I've requested to see you?"
Eric Blair
"No Your Excellency."
Oswald Mosley
"I'm surprised you don't, Burton."
Eric Blair
"You read my book?"
Oswald Mosley
"Yes I have. A gift from a friend. I've read the whole thing, cover to cover. It is fascinating."
Eric Blair
"Thank you Your Excellenc-"
Oswald Mosley
"But you and I know, I did not bring you here to praise your literary skills. You are here because I believe that you have a purpose other than being a soldier, something far greater. And please Mr. Blair, simply call me Mosley."
Eric Blair
"Of course, Mosley. And what purpose is that?"
Oswald Mosley
"To spread the glorious ideology of Victorianism across the world, to our friends and foes and, most importantly, our people."
Eric Blair
"How could I do that?"
Oswald Mosley
"It's quite simple really, I want you to join my propagandists. You have an innate ability by to visualize events and ideas through words, I have a sense of these things. See, when people hear propaganda, they think lies, deception, falsehoods, and half-truths. This is generally true for other ideologies, but not for Victorianism. Victorianism is truth, it is justice, it is liberty, it is the truest vanquisher of the decadence of the Old World and the greatest vanguard against the evil of Marxism. What better person to spread an ideology of truth than one who illustrates the world as is? There is no greater power than truth."
Eric Blair
"Do you truly think I can help advance Victorianism in Britain and the world?"
Oswald Mosley
"Yes."
The simplicity of his answer fills Blair with confidence and reassurance."
Eric Blair
"I would be honored to serve a man as great you Your Excellency."
Mosley's face lights up with reserved joy.
Oswald Mosley
"Excellent, it is wondrous to hear you say such."
Eric Blair
"Where do I go? When should I start?"
Oswald Mosley
"Eager to begin as all young men are I see. Do not fret, I shall discuss with others where you can be of most use. For now, head home and relax. Are you married Mr. Blair?"
Eric Blair
"Yes Your Excellency, her name is Jacintha. We married very recently, 3 years ago."
Oswald Mosley
"That is great to hear. Go to her, she has probably been expecting you ever since your things were delivered earlier."
Eric Blair
"Of course, to be home again will be a welcome thing. Thank you Your Excellency."
Blair exits the office and Mosley continues his work, anticipating the results Blair will produce at the Ministry of Information. Another valuable asset has been secured, one steadfastly loyal to Mosley. Slowly but surely, he is working to erode financial democracy and international influence. He knows it is coming soon, he just needs a boost in popularity to ensure compliance with his plans to make Britain the greatest nation once more. He hopes the conclusion of the South Africa Scheme and a short, successful war against the Ottomans would achieve this. Once he is the Autocrat Britain needs and deserves he will be able to act with speed and decisiveness impossible for a pluto-democratic Parliament to have.
The meeting with the French Exiles will come soon and he must prepare for it. With the combined strength of France, Italy, Portugal, Spain, and Greece, Britain would be ready to strike Germany. Edward is preparing for his tour to Gibraltar, West and South Africa, Ceylon, Australia, and Hong Kong in order to reassert Britain's overseas position. It however must be postponed until the birth of Albert's first child who is due sometime in April.
Blair arrives at his home and enters his apartment to see Jacintha waiting for him. He goes to hug her after months of being apart and they spend the rest of the day in leisure, content with the path life is taking. Blair finds it hard to comprehend how perfectly everything has aligned in his favour. Although what transpired after the fall of Madrid and his promise to Gomez still weigh heavy on his mind, these burdens feel somewhat lighter. At least for now, it seems he has yet more blessings to count.
Eric Blair In Spain With Nationalist Troops, He Is the Tallest Figure In the Photo, 1925
View attachment 424921
British Troops Man A Machine Gun Position In Southern Spain, 1926
View attachment 424923
Nationalist and Italian Troops In the Trenches Outside of Jaén, Spanish and Italian Troops Were More Integrated Than They Were With the British, 1925
View attachment 424924
Chapter 20: Power Is Truth
February 15, 1926
Blair stands at his post watching over the trenches. He hates being here, these lines were built for Spaniards and his 6' stature meant he was very exposed compared to them, especially when walking. He had been shot at several times, but Lady Luck seemed to favor him. He makes several glances across the land between the trenches, staring at the Republican line, he wonders what they were thinking. He often found himself bored out of his right mind, something he certainly did not expect when he enlisted last year. Fighting had mostly halted over the Winter months and he enjoyed the peace, despite its drollness.
He couldn't wait to return home, to tell people the things he had seen and maybe write something about it. He had fought in the Battle of Madrid and saw the ruined city after the battle had ended months ago. He saw Yagüe and his men hurting and killing innocents and raping women. He had tried to stop them whenever he came across it but his commanding officer put a stop to that as Montgomery had said, "It is not the duty not of Britons to govern Spaniards". This deeply concerned him and made him feel uneasy about the state of the war.
He remembered how he first joined the party. In the early 20s', things were rough. He had no job as his idea of serving as a colonial police officer in Burma near Moulmein, where his grandmother lived, was dashed when India broke away from the Empire. He had been unable to find employment as the Great Depression rocked the British economy and he feared for his future and the future of Jacintha. He then received news his grandmother was killed by Indian soldiers in an act of revenge against Burmese partisans raiding their camp. He grew a deep-seated hatred for both Burmese and Indians as well as non-Whites as a whole. Then he took notice of the rising star in British politics, Oswald Mosley. He was greatly attracted to Mosley, his strong and authoritative ideas, his impassioned and hard-hitting speeches, and paternal aura all helped to bring comfort to Blair in these hard times. He had thought long and hard over how he felt about Mosley and what started as interest in just another politician grew into a downright infatuated devotion, respect, and fealty to Mosley on the level of a father-son relationship. As the economy rose following Mosley's victory in 1924, Blair managed to find work and keep him and his wife fed and housed, something he would thank Mosley for at dinner every night until Jacintha told him to stop as even as Vicky herself she found it annoying; Blair would continue to thank Mosley for his luck mentally. He would join the army sometime in mid 1925 in order to partake in the Spanish Civil War. Since then he has fought in his fair share of battles, killed his fair share of Germans and Communists and was hoping the Republicans would lose the will to fight soon, ensuring total victory and peace.
As he sits there, he feels a pain develop in his back, most likely from being hunched over all the time. He decides he should stand up and stretch out, if only for a little bit. As he does, a Spanish man, not a common sight in this section of the trench at this time of day, approaches him and asks him what he is doing and if he wants to get his head blown off. Blair reassures the man that he is fine and that he should calm down. The two talk about whatever comes to their mind while Blair stretches. He asks him why he was in the British section of the trench and he tells him there is no official rule saying that travel between the different sections was forbidden or even discouraged during relatively peaceful times like this. Both seem happy as this may be the first interesting conversation either has had for some time. Each one has an array of questions for the other, so close yet so distant in trenches, something that was not lost on either of them. As they continue talking Blair finally finishes and goes to stand against the trench parapet to see if anything is amiss. Just before he does an officer calls out his name several feet away. He answers immediately and runs to him.
British Officer
"Are you Eric Arthur Blair?"
Eric Blair
"Yes Sir."
British Officer
"Well I've good news for you Eric, seems like you're going home early."
Eric Blair
"Really? Why?"
British Officer
"Have you never heard of the phrase, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'? Fine, I'll indulge you. Apparently, someone big back home wants to see you and they pulled out all the stops to get you back as quick a possible, even Marshall Fuller personally overseeing your return. I have no idea who in Britain who knows you and is important enough to get the personal attention of Fuller, but you'll find out soon enough."
Eric Blair
"When do I leave?"
British Officer
"Tomorrow morning. Get packing lad. God speed."
The officer walks away, attending his other duties. Blair is ecstatic and wonders who it could be that wants to meet him, puzzled by his lack of finding a logical answer. He returns to his post, with the man he was talking to a moment ago awaiting his return. He asked him what the officer had to say and Blair told him he was going to leave tomorrow and head back to Britain. The man laughed and remarked at his luck. Blair moves to collect his belongings so that he can leave in the morning. The man moves to stand against the parapet to look across the divide. That is when a bullet strikes him in the head, killing him instantly. Blair curses out loud in shock and sees the mans bloody face, his body still shaking with the final spasms that death allows before limpness overtakes it. He rushes to the man to try and save him but quickly realizes that he is shot in the head and that there is nothing he can do. This man, he had never even knew existed before this hour, and him vice versa, that he found some pleasure in talking to for those short moments, dead. He saved his life, he surely would've looked right there and would've been shot and killed. He never asked him for his name, and he didn't know Blair's. He quickly moved to check his body for anything that could tell him name, all the while snipers from both sides fired at each other. He finds a wallet and opens it and finds that the man's name is, or rather was, Gomez Vela. In the wallet were pictures of his wife and their daughter, he takes the picture out and looks on the back and finds the names Cecilia and Isabel, not sure which is the wive's and which is the daughter's, and a name of what must be where he lived, Bembibre. He closes the mans eyes and prays over his body. He then continues to look over his body, finding a pendant made out of gold with a picture of his daughter in it, no name unfortunately. He knows that if he leaves it with him, it will most likely never reach the family, lifted by someone to pawn for money. He swears to the man's bloody and lifeless face that he will return the pendant to his family. A soldier and a medic come to see the body and carry him away to where the dead lie.
He continues to pack his things and once done he returns to his post, careful not to let the fate of Gomez become his.
In the morning, he wakes up and waits until a messenger arrives and leads him to the car. He enters into it and the driver begins the journey to Porto. Blair sits in the car, still fixing over who called him back and why. Still no satisfactory answer was given. He did not talk to his driver, he was not in the mood. After 9 hours or so they reach the city and the driver leads him to the port and he boards the ship. As he heads to his quarters to rest as he is told that once they reach Plymouth they will fly to London and that once they're in the city the man who requested Blair's return wanted to speak to him immediately. Blair asked who was he but the men told him they were not informed, everything is on a need-to-know basis. Blair showers, changes clothing, and sleeps through the rest voyage. He is awakened just before they pull into port. He departs the ship and enters a new car and is driven to a nearby airfield where a two-seater plane and a pilot are waiting. He enters the back seat and the plane takes off. Blair has never been in a plane before and stared in awe as he grew further apart from the ground. he looks at the clouds and at the horizon. It was one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The journey ends sooner than Blair would like and he enters London by car less than an hour after boarding the plane. He is driven into the city while his possessions are handled and brought to his house. This is it. The anticipation was driving him mad. He speaks to the driver.
Eric Blair
"Sir, can you please tell me where we are heading?"
Driver
"They haven't told you yet? We're heading to Number 10."
Eric Blair
"Pardon?"
Driver
"You're going to speak with PM Mosley. They didn't tell you?"
Blair felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body. His breathing quickened, his heart speeds up. The driver, visibly concerned at this sudden reaction asks him if he was all right. Blair responds.
Eric Blair
"Yes, yes I'm fine. Just a bit, surprised."
Driver
"I'd probably feel the same way in your shoes. Not everyday us regular people get to meet the PM face-to-face in private. I don't know what you did to get his attention, but he seemed eager to meet to you."
Soon they reach 10 Downing Street.
Driver
"Well that it is lad. He's in there. Best to not keep him waiting."
Eric Blair
"Yes, thank you."
Blair exits the car and walks to the door. He takes one last breath to calm himself and it works somewhat, and enters in, stiff upper lip and all. The servants inform him that he is in his office and that he is ready for him. He thanks them and walks there. He looks at the door, steels himself one last time and enters.
Oswald Mosley
"Hello Mr. Blair."
Eric Blair
"Hello Your Excellency. May I sit down?"
Oswald Mosley
"Of course, please."
Blair sits down opposite of Mosley.
Oswald Mosley
"Do you know why I've requested to see you?"
Eric Blair
"No Your Excellency."
Oswald Mosley
"I'm surprised you don't, Burton."
Eric Blair
"You read my book?"
Oswald Mosley
"Yes I have. A gift from a friend. I've read the whole thing, cover to cover. It is fascinating."
Eric Blair
"Thank you Your Excellenc-"
Oswald Mosley
"But you and I know, I did not bring you here to praise your literary skills. You are here because I believe that you have a purpose other than being a soldier, something far greater. And please Mr. Blair, simply call me Mosley."
Eric Blair
"Of course, Mosley. And what purpose is that?"
Oswald Mosley
"To spread the glorious ideology of Victorianism across the world, to our friends and foes and, most importantly, our people."
Eric Blair
"How could I do that?"
Oswald Mosley
"It's quite simple really, I want you to join my propagandists. You have an innate ability by to visualize events and ideas through words, I have a sense of these things. See, when people hear propaganda, they think lies, deception, falsehoods, and half-truths. This is generally true for other ideologies, but not for Victorianism. Victorianism is truth, it is justice, it is liberty, it is the truest vanquisher of the decadence of the Old World and the greatest vanguard against the evil of Marxism. What better person to spread an ideology of truth than one who illustrates the world as is? There is no greater power than truth."
Eric Blair
"Do you truly think I can help advance Victorianism in Britain and the world?"
Oswald Mosley
"Yes."
The simplicity of his answer fills Blair with confidence and reassurance."
Eric Blair
"I would be honored to serve a man as great you Your Excellency."
Mosley's face lights up with reserved joy.
Oswald Mosley
"Excellent, it is wondrous to hear you say such."
Eric Blair
"Where do I go? When should I start?"
Oswald Mosley
"Eager to begin as all young men are I see. Do not fret, I shall discuss with others where you can be of most use. For now, head home and relax. Are you married Mr. Blair?"
Eric Blair
"Yes Your Excellency, her name is Jacintha. We married very recently, 3 years ago."
Oswald Mosley
"That is great to hear. Go to her, she has probably been expecting you ever since your things were delivered earlier."
Eric Blair
"Of course, to be home again will be a welcome thing. Thank you Your Excellency."
Blair exits the office and Mosley continues his work, anticipating the results Blair will produce at the Ministry of Information. Another valuable asset has been secured, one steadfastly loyal to Mosley. Slowly but surely, he is working to erode financial democracy and international influence. He knows it is coming soon, he just needs a boost in popularity to ensure compliance with his plans to make Britain the greatest nation once more. He hopes the conclusion of the South Africa Scheme and a short, successful war against the Ottomans would achieve this. Once he is the Autocrat Britain needs and deserves he will be able to act with speed and decisiveness impossible for a pluto-democratic Parliament to have.
The meeting with the French Exiles will come soon and he must prepare for it. With the combined strength of France, Italy, Portugal, Spain, and Greece, Britain would be ready to strike Germany. Edward is preparing for his tour to Gibraltar, West and South Africa, Ceylon, Australia, and Hong Kong in order to reassert Britain's overseas position. It however must be postponed until the birth of Albert's first child who is due sometime in April.
Blair arrives at his home and enters his apartment to see Jacintha waiting for him. He goes to hug her after months of being apart and they spend the rest of the day in leisure, content with the path life is taking. Blair finds it hard to comprehend how perfectly everything has aligned in his favour. Although what transpired after the fall of Madrid and his promise to Gomez still weigh heavy on his mind, these burdens feel somewhat lighter. At least for now, it seems he has yet more blessings to count.
Eric Blair In Spain With Nationalist Troops, He Is the Tallest Figure In the Photo, 1925
View attachment 424921
British Troops Man A Machine Gun Position In Southern Spain, 1926
View attachment 424923
Nationalist and Italian Troops In the Trenches Outside of Jaén, Spanish and Italian Troops Were More Integrated Than They Were With the British, 1925
View attachment 424924
- Lord_Vespasian
- Word Count: 2.6k