So a few words before.
Firstly, I've been working ahead so hopefully I can make this one last.
Secondly, yes, I know there are a million WWII TL's, but I think half the fun is the spin everyone puts on there own version of it.
Finally, comment's are always great, be they praising this to high heaven or pointing out every flaw in the story.
So without further ado, here is my first serious attempt at a serious TL!
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December 25th, 1939[/FONT]
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“Silent night, holy night, all is well, all is right.” The record crackled as the gramophone spun, off in a corner in the dining room of Highfield Park, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain's private estate. If only that was the case thought the beleaguered leader. The papers reported nothing of note happening, but that didn’t mean the government did not have issues to deal with. The French had been hounding him about some preposterous plans for Scandinavia and Baku. It seems their leaders did not grasp that pulling the Soviets into the war was the last thing they needed. However, it's not like the Soviets weren't asking for it. German-Soviet trade kept the Wehrmacht running its blitzkrieg across Europe. Also, the partition of Poland hadn't done them any favors. Add in the invasion of Finland and it is no surprise so many were calling for the Soviet's blood as well. However, that's not what this night was all about. It was about being able to spend some time with his family. [/FONT]
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“It is so nice to be home for a change. 10 Downing may be nice, but it just doesn’t have the charm of home.”[/FONT]
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Anne, his wife, smiled. “We are all glad to be back.”[/FONT]
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The white door behind them opened. Out walked three servants, carrying plates filled with warm food. On one large plate was a roasted pheasant, browned to perfection. Neville's mouth watered at the sight of it. [/FONT]
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“I think what I miss most is the cooking at home” said Neville as he looked at the family's cook, “Thank you very much Cecilia.” [/FONT]
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The short, plump lady blushed and curtsied before heading back into the kitchen. [/FONT]
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“Now, let's eat!” said the Prime Minister. He took a large carving knife and cut a piece for his wife and each of his children. Then, when satisfied, he cut himself a piece. Taking a bite, he smiled. [/FONT]
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“Yum! She certainly knows how to cook!” he said. He cut himself another piece, and ate it. A rather pink piece. [/FONT]
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Headline of the The Times, December 30th, 1939[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Chamberlain Resigns[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Churchill appointed Prime Minister [/FONT]
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British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain resigned today from office due to health reasons. After a recent bout with salmonella, the Prime Minister complained of incessant bowel pain. A closer examination by doctor's showed Mr. Chamberlain to have a malignant bowel tumor. The exact prognosis is unknown, but after considering all options, Mr. Chamberlain resigned as Prime Minister. In a statement issued by the Mr. Chamberlain today, he is quoted as saying “in normal circumstances I would try and lead the country even with my ailment. However, in this case, the country needs a leader unencumbered by such a condition. I therefore tender my resignation.” In response, First Lord of Admiralty Winston Churchill was appointed Prime Minister by the King. Most agree this is due to Mr. Churchill's ability to hold influence with all parties, and his experience in governing. The new Prime Minister is due to make his first speech to the nation on New Year's Day. [/FONT]
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December 29th, 1939[/FONT]
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“This should have been over by now!”[/FONT]
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An infuriated Joseph Stalin slammed onto the battle map splayed out onto the table in the main war room of his personal dacha at Kuntsevo. Vyacheslav Molotov, Soviet Foreign Minister, stood ram-rod straight in front of the raving leader of the Soviet Union. Also taking the verbal beating was Soviet Minister of Defense and, incidentally, commander of all Soviet forces involved in the invasion of Finland, Kliment Voroshilov. Stalin's face was red with anger as he ranted further. It was best to not try and stop him once he went into these moods. As a man, Stalin stood only 5' 5”, far from the imposing figure that the public was shown on the posters that could be seen plastered everywhere. “Like Napoleon”, thought Molotov. He wanted to smirk badly, but letting that sort of facial expression through could be deadly. In Stalin's Russia, anything, even looking at the Father of Nations in a weird way, could get you in the back of a Black Raven heading for some unmarked ditch deep in the endless woods of Russia. [/FONT]
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Stalin stared Voroshilov down. “We give you control of one of the most powerful armies on the planet, and you can't even crush Finland? Even if those defenses were as strong as the Maginot line, the might of the people would push it aside! Except instead, due to your incompetence, we have a disaster on our hands. You have shamed the glorious people's republic!” The Field Marshall stood, silent. Not like that would-[/FONT]
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“The only reason we have had such failures is because of your killing of all my officers!” shouted Voroshilov at Stalin. “Out troops lack leaders, simply because of your paranoia! YOU are to blame for our failures!” Stain looked dumbfounded at Voroshilov. It was not often someone stood up to Stalin's madness, and even less often they got away with it. [/FONT]
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The dictator stared down his commander. Not a word was said. Suddenly the door opened behind them. A timid servant dressed in a pristine white uniform stuck his head in. “Premier Stalin, dinner is prepared for you.” Then the servant opened the door fully to let the three men pass through. Stalin headed for the door. Without looking at Voroshilov, he started to speak. “I want you to use whatever means necessary to bring Finland to the negotiating tables. If they still do not choose to negotiate, then mark my words, you will pay for it.” [/FONT]