The Monroe Doctrine (and the Roosevelt Corollary) became worthless the moment the European Powers' armed forces set foot (and wheel, and track) in Mexico.
Stupid Luck and Happenstance.
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
When does he get issued his fluffy white cat?
Also, it would be beyond hilarious if he were to catch and dispose of a member of MI6
So has Barbara decided to stick with him, or is she currently considering a divorce? I mean, thanks to him, she did have to flee the US....
Now I think he’s likely to show up next in India “managing” the British handover in as despicable a way as possible.
Perhaps also trying to get some IRA-types to go kidnap Princess Elizabeth at the same time.
Perhaps also trying to get some IRA-types to go kidnap Princess Elizabeth at the same time.
Not likely, IRA at this point in time is basically dead. There might still be the border campaign, but that will fizzle out again as it did.
In saying that, unless there has been some serious changes in NI that we haven't seen, the more modern Provisional IRA is still likely to come into being, but that will be a few years out, and without the American Civil Rights movement to inspire it, might not come in to being from the same origins (otl, as a response to heavy handed NI suppression of Civil Rights campaigns)
But there is more the U.S. Navy on patrol. Wonder if "Creepy" will have some ships out here looking for things like this? Imagine a submarine suddenly surfacing and wanting to perform and inspection, especially if there is a search plane was overhead.
Part 68, Chapter 987
Chapter Nine Hundred Eighty-Seven
4th November 1952
Washington D.C.
After it was announced that the war in Mexico was over and that it was an American victory the election was a foregone conclusion. For Robert Taft is was an early night, he had conceded shortly after the polls closed on the West Coast as the early returns revealed that he was getting trounced across the country. Truman normally would have felt triumphant at a moment like this, but he was finding that impossible.
In Mexico, the League of Nations was firmly in the driver’s seat with several armies from Europe and South America backing them up. In order to fulfill his campaign promises, Truman was going to have to bring the boys home as swiftly as possible. Augustus Lang had let him paint himself into a corner in that regard. Then there was the Australian mess.
The Brits had detonated an atomic bomb on an Australian Island that his experts had said was nearly identical in form and function to the ones that had failed during the Manhattan Project. Increasingly his experts were saying that the entire project had been subverted and sabotaged, there were no other explanations. A legal term kept running through Truman’s mind, Cui bono? To whom is it a benefit? According to the FBI and an Inspector General who Truman had tasked with figuring out what had happened. Truman had no doubt that whoever was responsible had been allowed years to cover their tracks. The suggestion by the CIA had almost been useful. They had suggested that it was the Colonel again.
In had taken some time to get an explanation as to what that meant. It was from the books that was written by a former British spy, Ian Fleming. There was supposedly a Colonel from the German Luftwaffe who was high up first in Abwehr and later the BND. Every time something inexplicable happened the CIA jokingly chalked it up as the work of the Colonel. The British SIS on the other hand said something very different. They had discovered hints that the Oberst was real and North America was his area of expertise. Truman remembered Johann Schultz, a big lummox at best. The representative from the SIS had said not to underestimate Schultz, he was a retired Luftwaffe Noncommissioned Officer, had competed in the Olympics and had spent several years traveling the world in his youth. If the Colonel was real, then he was the one who ran Johann Schultz.
All of this was consuming Truman’s thoughts as he prepared deliver his address to the nation. He looked over his notes and knew that it was a barn burner that was going to be broadcast from coast to coast. If there was a time for America to find unity of purpose, then this was it.
New York City, New York
Hubert and Penelope were watching President Truman address the nation on television when Gia walked through the room. For Gia it was a reminder that she had lived in New York for almost two years. It was becoming an annoyance for her. In her last letter Kiki had mentioned a lot of the things that she had been doing with her friends over the autumn holiday. Seeing the photograph that Kiki had included Gia saw that she was no longer a little girl but was becoming a young woman. More than ever Gia just wanted to go home and for her home would never be New York.
Walking back upstairs and into her room, Gia looked at the stack of pages that were the manuscript of her autobiography. She had left out several key details. Things that she felt were no one’s business but her own. Gia supposed that it was an act of cowardice on her part, but she had only mentioned that her mother had a spiritual crisis after the deaths of her Grandparents and Uncle Alexey. Gia had not mentioned the conclusions that her mother had reached. She figured that people would not take that well at all. Perhaps one day she might do an updated, warts and all, version of her autobiography, but today this would do.
5th November 1952
Belfast, Ireland
There were times when having a reputation as a Lawyer who could win impossible cases worked against Jack. In this case the Government in Dublin had asked Jack to take this case. He figured that it was because they wanted no one to say that the defendant had not had the best legal representation available when they tossed him into a dark hole and threw away the key. Jack also knew that there many in Dublin who would mind seeing him get another loss on his record as he was starting an Independent bid to represent Central Dublin in the Dáil. The identity of the defendant probably wouldn’t sit well with that constituency either. As it was, Jack found himself in Belfast on a dim rainy afternoon.
Entering the interview room Jack saw that Gordon Grier had been chained to the floor. Hardly a surprise, Grier had attacked his previous Solicitor. When the British had been forced to withdraw from Ireland following the Treaty of Paris the result was that various Republican factions had gone to war with each other, however when the Unionists had attempted to partition off the Northern Counties they had provided the Republicans with something they had lacked since the British had left, a common enemy. Anyone with the means to flee Ireland for Scotland, England or the United States had. Decades later, Ulster remained an economic backwater with the shipyards and industry taking years to come back. The remaining Ulster Scots had become a permanent impoverished underclass that had proven a fertile recruiting ground for the Orange Order. That was where Grier came in.
At the age of forty, Gordon Grier had spent the majority of his life in prison. Most recently he had led an attempted assassination of the Mayor of Belfast less than two weeks after being released. Jack knew the score. Grier was the sort who carried out violent acts, but he was not the sort who gave the orders. Unless Jack could convince Gordon to give up those who did give the orders he had his work cut out for him.
4th November 1952
Washington D.C.
After it was announced that the war in Mexico was over and that it was an American victory the election was a foregone conclusion. For Robert Taft is was an early night, he had conceded shortly after the polls closed on the West Coast as the early returns revealed that he was getting trounced across the country. Truman normally would have felt triumphant at a moment like this, but he was finding that impossible.
In Mexico, the League of Nations was firmly in the driver’s seat with several armies from Europe and South America backing them up. In order to fulfill his campaign promises, Truman was going to have to bring the boys home as swiftly as possible. Augustus Lang had let him paint himself into a corner in that regard. Then there was the Australian mess.
The Brits had detonated an atomic bomb on an Australian Island that his experts had said was nearly identical in form and function to the ones that had failed during the Manhattan Project. Increasingly his experts were saying that the entire project had been subverted and sabotaged, there were no other explanations. A legal term kept running through Truman’s mind, Cui bono? To whom is it a benefit? According to the FBI and an Inspector General who Truman had tasked with figuring out what had happened. Truman had no doubt that whoever was responsible had been allowed years to cover their tracks. The suggestion by the CIA had almost been useful. They had suggested that it was the Colonel again.
In had taken some time to get an explanation as to what that meant. It was from the books that was written by a former British spy, Ian Fleming. There was supposedly a Colonel from the German Luftwaffe who was high up first in Abwehr and later the BND. Every time something inexplicable happened the CIA jokingly chalked it up as the work of the Colonel. The British SIS on the other hand said something very different. They had discovered hints that the Oberst was real and North America was his area of expertise. Truman remembered Johann Schultz, a big lummox at best. The representative from the SIS had said not to underestimate Schultz, he was a retired Luftwaffe Noncommissioned Officer, had competed in the Olympics and had spent several years traveling the world in his youth. If the Colonel was real, then he was the one who ran Johann Schultz.
All of this was consuming Truman’s thoughts as he prepared deliver his address to the nation. He looked over his notes and knew that it was a barn burner that was going to be broadcast from coast to coast. If there was a time for America to find unity of purpose, then this was it.
New York City, New York
Hubert and Penelope were watching President Truman address the nation on television when Gia walked through the room. For Gia it was a reminder that she had lived in New York for almost two years. It was becoming an annoyance for her. In her last letter Kiki had mentioned a lot of the things that she had been doing with her friends over the autumn holiday. Seeing the photograph that Kiki had included Gia saw that she was no longer a little girl but was becoming a young woman. More than ever Gia just wanted to go home and for her home would never be New York.
Walking back upstairs and into her room, Gia looked at the stack of pages that were the manuscript of her autobiography. She had left out several key details. Things that she felt were no one’s business but her own. Gia supposed that it was an act of cowardice on her part, but she had only mentioned that her mother had a spiritual crisis after the deaths of her Grandparents and Uncle Alexey. Gia had not mentioned the conclusions that her mother had reached. She figured that people would not take that well at all. Perhaps one day she might do an updated, warts and all, version of her autobiography, but today this would do.
5th November 1952
Belfast, Ireland
There were times when having a reputation as a Lawyer who could win impossible cases worked against Jack. In this case the Government in Dublin had asked Jack to take this case. He figured that it was because they wanted no one to say that the defendant had not had the best legal representation available when they tossed him into a dark hole and threw away the key. Jack also knew that there many in Dublin who would mind seeing him get another loss on his record as he was starting an Independent bid to represent Central Dublin in the Dáil. The identity of the defendant probably wouldn’t sit well with that constituency either. As it was, Jack found himself in Belfast on a dim rainy afternoon.
Entering the interview room Jack saw that Gordon Grier had been chained to the floor. Hardly a surprise, Grier had attacked his previous Solicitor. When the British had been forced to withdraw from Ireland following the Treaty of Paris the result was that various Republican factions had gone to war with each other, however when the Unionists had attempted to partition off the Northern Counties they had provided the Republicans with something they had lacked since the British had left, a common enemy. Anyone with the means to flee Ireland for Scotland, England or the United States had. Decades later, Ulster remained an economic backwater with the shipyards and industry taking years to come back. The remaining Ulster Scots had become a permanent impoverished underclass that had proven a fertile recruiting ground for the Orange Order. That was where Grier came in.
At the age of forty, Gordon Grier had spent the majority of his life in prison. Most recently he had led an attempted assassination of the Mayor of Belfast less than two weeks after being released. Jack knew the score. Grier was the sort who carried out violent acts, but he was not the sort who gave the orders. Unless Jack could convince Gordon to give up those who did give the orders he had his work cut out for him.
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Bush didn't see it. Francisco may well have had Bush's assassin shot, and our Bush-league international fugitive is about to find himself in a bad spot...
Great tale, running long and well. It always makes me smile when I see more.
Second that. I have no idea how P-M cranks out quantity and quality like clockwork, as someone with multi-year writer's block, frankly I'm in awe. Hopefully one day when this is all complete, it gets published. At this point, it'd probably be three or four books by now, right?
For George Bush his time as Senor Arbusto is over, but opportunities abound in the world for him, as long as there are unaccounted weapons that can be sold to anyone with the cash to buy them, he will be there.
As long as people hold on to ancient hatred, grudges, and prejudices that can be exploited, he will be there.
For he is Legion, "The Man with a Thousand Names".
As long as people hold on to ancient hatred, grudges, and prejudices that can be exploited, he will be there.
For he is Legion, "The Man with a Thousand Names".
Interesting. Counties Down and Antrim had Ulster Scots supermajorities and East Londonderry and Belfast probably even now in this TL small majorities. East Coast of Ulster would be an inverted version of South Armagh. Given Ireland's very different shipping needs and lack of a colonial empire and Britain's domestic oversupply of shipyards post WW1, I could see Harland & Wolff going to the wall post war and the "wee yard" Workman & Clark surviving. More suited to building fisheries protection vessels, coasters and small merchant ships for Ireland's overseas trade. OTL this is the point where the foundries in Belfast and Coleraine closed as they could no longer compete with imported iron and steel and the linen industry is starting to contract. And Isaac Agnew, Brian Faulkner and TBF Thompson won't have been able to use wartime cross border smuggling to build up business enterprises as OTL. So period of even more severe economic decline and alienation likely to promote further radicalisation in an already alienated population. And a diaspora in Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and parts of the USA willing to send money home to support the Cause. Hmm, where have I seen something like this before?
Part 68, Chapter 988
Chapter Nine Hundred Eighty-Eight
29th November 1952
Washington D.C.
A month full of small disasters. That was how Nancy would have put it. Ever since she had briefed the President, her supervisor, Paul Finley had been sniping at her. That had all come to a head this week as the time for the annual review had come. A year earlier, Nancy had gotten a glowing review. This year heavy emphases had been placed on her reluctance to spend time in the field and her apparent inability to separate the personal from the professional. She had spent six months in the field and she had been recruited to R&A Branch because of her personal connections.
Then in the middle of the month her father had suffered a heart attack at work. He had passed away before the ambulance had arrived. Nancy’s mother had told her after the funeral that she was selling the house in Puyallup and moving in with Aunt Martha’s family in Spokane. Thanksgiving had been particularly lonely for Nancy this year, it had felt like everything she had worked for was slipping away. Her family’s home was essentially gone, the people scattered. The Christmas decorations were going up and it felt like stab to her heart every time Nancy saw the idealized family life that was depicted in the adverts.
Then there was what had happened the night before. Nancy had tried to numb herself with alcohol and had just made things worse. Tilo, of all people had shown up on her doorstep. To see how she was doing, and she had unloaded on him. Everything she knew, the things she was stupidly keeping secret out of some misguided affection for him. She knew who Johann Schultz really was, that he was mysterious figure who had been subverting American interests for decades. She remembered the shocked look on Tilo’s face as she had carried on, more because of her behavior, not what she was saying.
Now it was the next morning and Nancy woke up wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before and badly hungover. She was staring at the ceiling of her apartment. There was a small crack in the plaster over her bed that had resisted all attempts to paint over it. It was a perfect metaphor for her life, was staring at that crack what she had to look forward to for the next thirty years? She had probably succeeded in chasing Tilo off, finally. That was an impossible relationship, she had known that all along. Even if Tilo’s father wasn’t what he was, being in a relationship with a foreign national was enough to get her security clearances revoked. Especially when that foreign national was a member of a Military Intelligence Agency, which was exactly what the SKA/MA was under the German BND.
Staggering into the bathroom, Nancy cupped her hands under the running water and drank from them. A bit of water and aspirin helped a bit with the pounding in her head. How many times had she been in the bathroom telling herself that she wouldn’t do this to herself again? Nancy had lost count.
Then she heard the rattle of a key in the lock and the door opened, Tilo walked in. He was carrying a paper bag and a paper cup.
“You look like crap Nancy” Tilo said as he handed her the cup. It contained coffee with a considerable amount of sugar in it. As she watched he unpacked the grocery bag and started preparing breakfast, that included opening a can of beans. “I hope you’d like an omelette. The market around the corner didn’t have a great selection and the clerk seemed not to know what I was talking about when I asked about seasonal produce.”
As she sat there at the table Nancy just felt guilt over how she had treated Tilo the night before and the months before that. Why was he still around?
“Cheese, onions and beans which is the best I could do” Tilo said as he sat a plate in front of her and started making one for himself.
“You didn’t leave” Nancy said flatly as he sat down at the table a few minutes later.
“Where was I going to go?” Tilo asked.
“I can think of a lot of places” Nancy replied, “For better company anyway.”
Tilo just shrugged, “When it comes people saying stupid things when drunk you’ve got nothing on Reier” He said, “And I’ve spent last year constantly around him. I’m more concerned about why you were alone at home on a Friday night three sheets to the wind when I got here.”
“November was terrible month” Nancy said.
“Why, something happened?”
“My father died, and my mother is moving to Spokane as soon as the house is sold. I said a bunch of terrible things about you and your father. At work, my boss hates me, and Thursday was Thanksgiving” Nancy said, “I’ve very little to be thankful for this year.”
“I’ve heard far worse things said about my father” Tilo said with a smile.
“This isn’t funny” Nancy said, “If someone was eavesdropping I might have caused a great deal of trouble for you and your family.”
“Many would argue that my father has it coming to him” Tilo replied.
They sat there for several minutes in silence eating breakfast. It wasn’t awkward, it was just that they had said what they needed to and that was that. For Nancy the implications were terrifying.
29th November 1952
Washington D.C.
A month full of small disasters. That was how Nancy would have put it. Ever since she had briefed the President, her supervisor, Paul Finley had been sniping at her. That had all come to a head this week as the time for the annual review had come. A year earlier, Nancy had gotten a glowing review. This year heavy emphases had been placed on her reluctance to spend time in the field and her apparent inability to separate the personal from the professional. She had spent six months in the field and she had been recruited to R&A Branch because of her personal connections.
Then in the middle of the month her father had suffered a heart attack at work. He had passed away before the ambulance had arrived. Nancy’s mother had told her after the funeral that she was selling the house in Puyallup and moving in with Aunt Martha’s family in Spokane. Thanksgiving had been particularly lonely for Nancy this year, it had felt like everything she had worked for was slipping away. Her family’s home was essentially gone, the people scattered. The Christmas decorations were going up and it felt like stab to her heart every time Nancy saw the idealized family life that was depicted in the adverts.
Then there was what had happened the night before. Nancy had tried to numb herself with alcohol and had just made things worse. Tilo, of all people had shown up on her doorstep. To see how she was doing, and she had unloaded on him. Everything she knew, the things she was stupidly keeping secret out of some misguided affection for him. She knew who Johann Schultz really was, that he was mysterious figure who had been subverting American interests for decades. She remembered the shocked look on Tilo’s face as she had carried on, more because of her behavior, not what she was saying.
Now it was the next morning and Nancy woke up wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before and badly hungover. She was staring at the ceiling of her apartment. There was a small crack in the plaster over her bed that had resisted all attempts to paint over it. It was a perfect metaphor for her life, was staring at that crack what she had to look forward to for the next thirty years? She had probably succeeded in chasing Tilo off, finally. That was an impossible relationship, she had known that all along. Even if Tilo’s father wasn’t what he was, being in a relationship with a foreign national was enough to get her security clearances revoked. Especially when that foreign national was a member of a Military Intelligence Agency, which was exactly what the SKA/MA was under the German BND.
Staggering into the bathroom, Nancy cupped her hands under the running water and drank from them. A bit of water and aspirin helped a bit with the pounding in her head. How many times had she been in the bathroom telling herself that she wouldn’t do this to herself again? Nancy had lost count.
Then she heard the rattle of a key in the lock and the door opened, Tilo walked in. He was carrying a paper bag and a paper cup.
“You look like crap Nancy” Tilo said as he handed her the cup. It contained coffee with a considerable amount of sugar in it. As she watched he unpacked the grocery bag and started preparing breakfast, that included opening a can of beans. “I hope you’d like an omelette. The market around the corner didn’t have a great selection and the clerk seemed not to know what I was talking about when I asked about seasonal produce.”
As she sat there at the table Nancy just felt guilt over how she had treated Tilo the night before and the months before that. Why was he still around?
“Cheese, onions and beans which is the best I could do” Tilo said as he sat a plate in front of her and started making one for himself.
“You didn’t leave” Nancy said flatly as he sat down at the table a few minutes later.
“Where was I going to go?” Tilo asked.
“I can think of a lot of places” Nancy replied, “For better company anyway.”
Tilo just shrugged, “When it comes people saying stupid things when drunk you’ve got nothing on Reier” He said, “And I’ve spent last year constantly around him. I’m more concerned about why you were alone at home on a Friday night three sheets to the wind when I got here.”
“November was terrible month” Nancy said.
“Why, something happened?”
“My father died, and my mother is moving to Spokane as soon as the house is sold. I said a bunch of terrible things about you and your father. At work, my boss hates me, and Thursday was Thanksgiving” Nancy said, “I’ve very little to be thankful for this year.”
“I’ve heard far worse things said about my father” Tilo said with a smile.
“This isn’t funny” Nancy said, “If someone was eavesdropping I might have caused a great deal of trouble for you and your family.”
“Many would argue that my father has it coming to him” Tilo replied.
They sat there for several minutes in silence eating breakfast. It wasn’t awkward, it was just that they had said what they needed to and that was that. For Nancy the implications were terrifying.
I could see the immigration of Scots-Irish to the United States being welcomed as it happened during the heights of "The Fourth Great Awakening" as they are white European Protestants that speak English.
But it is going to be a mixed bag as they are Anti-Catholic, pro birth control, those immigrants who are from the more industrial areas of Northern Ireland are going to be pro union and the sons and daughters of the immigrants are going to have a more romanticized view of the Ulster Unionist movement and may equate what is happening over there with the discrimination of Scots-Irish with the discrimination of blacks in the South.
IOTL Catholic civil rights demonstrators in Northern Ireland would sing "We Shall Overcome" and quote Martin Luther King Jr.
But it is going to be a mixed bag as they are Anti-Catholic, pro birth control, those immigrants who are from the more industrial areas of Northern Ireland are going to be pro union and the sons and daughters of the immigrants are going to have a more romanticized view of the Ulster Unionist movement and may equate what is happening over there with the discrimination of Scots-Irish with the discrimination of blacks in the South.
IOTL Catholic civil rights demonstrators in Northern Ireland would sing "We Shall Overcome" and quote Martin Luther King Jr.