TLIAW: Failed Miserably

Bismarck and Wilhelm II

One has to create alliances capable of doing the deed somehow. And I'm not sure actually what city will play Weimar just yet. But thanks for the interest Yanqui.

ITL After Franco-German war in 1871 Bismarck kept Germany allied with Austria-Hungary and Russia - striving at all times to prevent Franco-Russian alliance. He didn't want more war - he had unified Germany. Actually kind of quietly helped France, after 1871 - in places like Sudan..

And Bismarck never tried to build much of a fleet. No colonies, no real need.

But Kaiser Wilhelm II wanted to prove something. So he fired Bismarck and started building a fleet and somehow angered the Russians and the French enough to drive them into their alliance. All within about 5 or 10 years of Bismarck's retirement. And the British weren't happy with Tirpitz's boats.

In other words, a prudent Kaiser could get you towards your POD.

!Keep up the good work!
 

Japhy

Banned
Just as background for POD. If its even necessary.

Except a prudent Kaiser requires a different Kaiser, and would have prevented the fleet necessary to invade to be built, while an alliance with Russia and Austria-Hungary continuing would have promoted a focus as a land power and leadership in Continental Europe, rather than a quest for a 'Place in the Sun'. Bismark's plan for Germany was practically-tailor made to not cause conflict with the British, or at least to avoid it as much as possible. And anyway, at this point, I've got plans for the Berlin-Paris relationship from here on out so I'll stick with it.

That said, here's the next update.

Part X: Kiel

By mid-July the Milford Haven government was approaching the limits of sustainability. The coalition cabinet ministers had never been particularly keen to partake in a ‘Government of Surrender’. Quiet resignations and even quieter refusals to partake in discussion or to put one's neck out was worked around with the creation of new cabinet offices such as Smuts’ Ministry of War and the transfer of effective power to other officers of government. As no political party was keen on assuming the leadership of signing whatever treaty appeared, mass popular support for elections was not reflected in the supposed leadership of the government and that in the opposition.

Milford Haven’s solution to the crisis was to assume the responsibility and failure in his own person ever more. His sacrifice of reputation though created more problems than it solved, with the common view, and the talk of the ever-growing and ever less centralized opposition, being of a dictatorship in the making. Combined with the toxic accusations of German loyalty, both the Prime Minister and the Monarch became ever more unpopular with the masses.

If an average man on the street existed in London, or Edinburgh of Manchester, his primary concern was food, which was still not arriving in the levels needed, though in some cases he was content with the fact that after the riots, a crackdown on ‘impropriety’ and inequality in the rationing program began, and the government, at the cost of long term reserves, increased the ration. He was still living on far fewer calories than he depended on in 1914, but at least his children had access to milk once and in some cases twice a week.

His discontent though, had not faded, though it manifested itself in varied ways with few commonalities besides a need for new leadership. What that leadership entailed varied but it ranged from a return to Lord Kitchener with hints of military involvement in politics to a Red-Red-Reder-Red/Black coalition of Labour, Trade Unions, Socialists and Anarcho-Syndicalists in imitation of the much vaunted Popular Front. He may have supported the King with the belief that he was being manipulated by his inner circle, or he might have seen the monarch as just another Hun. His other big points of conversation would be the Civil War in Ireland, the Germans and French on the coast, and occasionally, whispers of political changes in the King’s Party, as it seemed from time to time that Kitchener was about to return or even that Smuts would assume leadership.

If an average soldier existed in the army, he was inevitably sitting in one of the rapidly assembled camps that the German and French armies shipped prisoners on the French Coast. Or he had deserted. Or he was still sitting in Egypt or Ottoman Arabia, waiting to go home. Or sat in bases staying on mostly for the food ration. Most likely though, that perfectly average opinionated man was dead, perhaps for some time.

But the exceptional soldiery had gone in different directions. The infamous Auxiliary Units, soon to be immortalized in history as ‘The Bastards’ and more commonly ‘The Black and Tans’ drilled in their bases, supported by a few men in the new War Ministry such as The Boy General, Roland Boys Bradford who at twenty-six had been shunted to a staff position. He saw these units, with their esprit de corps, as an elite force of stormtroopers to use in defense of the institution of government. While this view was contrary to most of the Army leadership, quiet support or at least official disinterest by the War Minister allowed him and the ‘Security Desk’ at the General Staff to continue provide equipment, funds, and other aid to these forces, who licked their wounds and like Achilles, brooded in their tends.

The other end of things would be manifested in those units of final conscripts, the workers and students who had been called up since the collapse of Italy, hastily trained and then rushed to the frontlines. It was these units that had been obliterated by the ferocious campaign to turn back the Entente though, and whose survivors made up majorities in the Franco-German prison camps across the channel and the deserters who had rapidly gone home.

Those that remained in uniform, by luck, desperation, or simply bad timing were unsurprisingly an unhappy bunch. They had been taken in large numbers from industries and trades once deemed ‘War Essential’, they had spent years before getting into uniform suffering the ever-poorer ration situation, and had not only been exposed to the increasing political radicalism abroad, but also at home. With the terrible political situation and the continued blockade and the inevitable terrible treaty at hand, they proved to be a perfect breeding ground for the radicalism of the desperate.

While the image of Sidney and Beatrice Webb addressing the soldiers and sailors of the Free Socialist Republic are the standard photographs of the army mutinies, it was not the Popular Front but of all things the Co-Operative Movement that started the end of the Revolution.

The men of the First Royal Naval Division, a naval infantry force that had been rushed into existence after the fall of Italy, had suffered terrible losses during the invasion, and had after the armistice seen its numbers boosted by the condensing of its battalions and the inclusion of remnant units of other divisions, both of the ‘Navy Corps’ other two divisions and of Army forces. The clash of tradition, as men who had served throughout the war in the maritime service were put under the command of Army officers. These tensions could easily have faded off, had it not been for the appointment of an Army Major General, Sir Cameron D. Shute.

While Shute was not entirely responsible for the terrible supply situation the ‘1st RND’ was going through at the time, that was due to the fact that the rail network that would have supplied it at its camp just outside of Guildford had been utterly destroyed in the fighting, he certainly exacerbated the situation with harsh discipline and a regular Army officers instinctive dislike for the sailors under his command.

The actual trigger of the mutiny has been buried by the events that would follow. Everything from murder to a tired young sailor mouthing off to the General has been cited by various political factions. What is known that about half a dozen men found themselves arrested on the General's Orders on the night of July 13th. As word spread around the divisional encampment, tired, hungry soldiers and sailors could set aside their differences in united anger at what what perceived as an injustice done.

At morning parade, the majority of battalions in the Division saw the men, agitated over the previous night, and carrying all the emotional weight and passions of the past several months, offer a minor rebellion, refusing to stand at attention for their senior officers. More arrests followed, as did a petition to the Major-General, signed by representatives of the Ranks, Non-Commissioned Officers and a few Junior Officers of the self-styled First Naval Division Co-Operative Committee.

Agitated, tired and angry as they were the troops had not resorted to Socialism, Vigilantism, or Anarchism. Instead they had, in no small part to members of a former ‘Pals Battalion’ that had been broken up to fill ranks in the 1st Brigade, to embrace the ideals of the Co-Operative movement, which had exploded in popularity in Britain since the introduction of rationing. Their demands were simple, practically requests, that the arrested soldiers be released, and that at the request of the troops the Major-Generals and Brigadiers of the Division host daily meetings of the Co-Operative Committee and to seek ‘ethical leadership’ so long as the Armistice continued. It was directly noted in the petition that under no circumstances would such elected committees have any power in combat, nor would they seek to replace officers as had been done by the ‘Soviets’ of the Russian Popular Front.

Shute in response to this saw nothing but a Popular Front revolt commencing. Arresting the petitioners, he sought contact from the General Staff in crushing the ‘revolt’, and sought to arrest any man who had signed on as a representative of the committee. The end result of this was something of a small riot, as the soldiers and sailors of the division sought to defend their representatives. Several concussions, broken limbs and ribs later, the senior leadership of the Division had been arrested by their own men, and the Co-Operative Committee found itself, instead of an advisory council for the airing of grievances, the de facto leadership of the entire force.

In this awkward position, they would attempt to restore the Generals to command, so long as they were willing to agree to the purpose of the Committee. Shute and his fellow officers, sure that this was a planned uprising refused to discuss any terms. The Committee, thus sought to contact the General Staff, the War Ministry and Admiralty in an attempt to explain the situation. What they viewed as a quite reasonable inquiry though as to what they should do, created something akin to mass panic.

While the 1ND would soon find itself under a Naval Captain who agreed, in the name of maintaining order and to not weaken the ‘front’, to assume command and the troops returned to their tents, to enjoy tea and lunch, the government was in a panic. The King was rushed out of London, orders for troops to defend London from the inevitable Popular Front march were sent out, and both Milford Haven and Smuts rushed to oversee the containment of the Revolution underway.

Revolution in the making or not, the extreme ends of the Army, the Political Leadership, and the Average Man on the street would all see their situations change on July 14th.​
 
Except a prudent Kaiser requires a different Kaiser, and would have prevented the fleet necessary to invade to be built, while an alliance with Russia and Austria-Hungary continuing would have promoted a focus as a land power and leadership in Continental Europe, rather than a quest for a 'Place in the Sun'. Bismark's plan for Germany was practically-tailor made to not cause conflict with the British, or at least to avoid it as much as possible. And anyway, at this point, I've got plans for the Berlin-Paris relationship from here on out so I'll stick with it.

That said, here's the next update.

Part X: Kiel

By mid-July the Milford Haven government was approaching the limits of sustainability. The coalition cabinet ministers had never been particularly keen to partake in a ‘Government of Surrender’. Quiet resignations and even quieter refusals to partake in discussion or to put one's neck out was worked around with the creation of new cabinet offices such as Smuts’ Ministry of War and the transfer of effective power to other officers of government. As no political party was keen on assuming the leadership of signing whatever treaty appeared, mass popular support for elections was not reflected in the supposed leadership of the government and that in the opposition.

Milford Haven’s solution to the crisis was to assume the responsibility and failure in his own person ever more. His sacrifice of reputation though created more problems than it solved, with the common view, and the talk of the ever-growing and ever less centralized opposition, being of a dictatorship in the making. Combined with the toxic accusations of German loyalty, both the Prime Minister and the Monarch became ever more unpopular with the masses.

If an average man on the street existed in London, or Edinburgh of Manchester, his primary concern was food, which was still not arriving in the levels needed, though in some cases he was content with the fact that after the riots, a crackdown on ‘impropriety’ and inequality in the rationing program began, and the government, at the cost of long term reserves, increased the ration. He was still living on far fewer calories than he depended on in 1914, but at least his children had access to milk once and in some cases twice a week.

His discontent though, had not faded, though it manifested itself in varied ways with few commonalities besides a need for new leadership. What that leadership entailed varied but it ranged from a return to Lord Kitchener with hints of military involvement in politics to a Red-Red-Reder-Red/Black coalition of Labour, Trade Unions, Socialists and Anarcho-Syndicalists in imitation of the much vaunted Popular Front. He may have supported the King with the belief that he was being manipulated by his inner circle, or he might have seen the monarch as just another Hun. His other big points of conversation would be the Civil War in Ireland, the Germans and French on the coast, and occasionally, whispers of political changes in the King’s Party, as it seemed from time to time that Kitchener was about to return or even that Smuts would assume leadership.

If an average soldier existed in the army, he was inevitably sitting in one of the rapidly assembled camps that the German and French armies shipped prisoners on the French Coast. Or he had deserted. Or he was still sitting in Egypt or Ottoman Arabia, waiting to go home. Or sat in bases staying on mostly for the food ration. Most likely though, that perfectly average opinionated man was dead, perhaps for some time.

But the exceptional soldiery had gone in different directions. The infamous Auxiliary Units, soon to be immortalized in history as ‘The Bastards’ and more commonly ‘The Black and Tans’ drilled in their bases, supported by a few men in the new War Ministry such as The Boy General, Roland Boys Bradford who at twenty-six had been shunted to a staff position. He saw these units, with their esprit de corps, as an elite force of stormtroopers to use in defense of the institution of government. While this view was contrary to most of the Army leadership, quiet support or at least official disinterest by the War Minister allowed him and the ‘Security Desk’ at the General Staff to continue provide equipment, funds, and other aid to these forces, who licked their wounds and like Achilles, brooded in their tends.

The other end of things would be manifested in those units of final conscripts, the workers and students who had been called up since the collapse of Italy, hastily trained and then rushed to the frontlines. It was these units that had been obliterated by the ferocious campaign to turn back the Entente though, and whose survivors made up majorities in the Franco-German prison camps across the channel and the deserters who had rapidly gone home.

Those that remained in uniform, by luck, desperation, or simply bad timing were unsurprisingly an unhappy bunch. They had been taken in large numbers from industries and trades once deemed ‘War Essential’, they had spent years before getting into uniform suffering the ever-poorer ration situation, and had not only been exposed to the increasing political radicalism abroad, but also at home. With the terrible political situation and the continued blockade and the inevitable terrible treaty at hand, they proved to be a perfect breeding ground for the radicalism of the desperate.

While the image of Sidney and Beatrice Webb addressing the soldiers and sailors of the Free Socialist Republic are the standard photographs of the army mutinies, it was not the Popular Front but of all things the Co-Operative Movement that started the end of the Revolution.

The men of the First Royal Naval Division, a naval infantry force that had been rushed into existence after the fall of Italy, had suffered terrible losses during the invasion, and had after the armistice seen its numbers boosted by the condensing of its battalions and the inclusion of remnant units of other divisions, both of the ‘Navy Corps’ other two divisions and of Army forces. The clash of tradition, as men who had served throughout the war in the maritime service were put under the command of Army officers. These tensions could easily have faded off, had it not been for the appointment of an Army Major General, Sir Cameron D. Shute.

While Shute was not entirely responsible for the terrible supply situation the ‘1st RND’ was going through at the time, that was due to the fact that the rail network that would have supplied it at its camp just outside of Guildford had been utterly destroyed in the fighting, he certainly exacerbated the situation with harsh discipline and a regular Army officers instinctive dislike for the sailors under his command.

The actual trigger of the mutiny has been buried by the events that would follow. Everything from murder to a tired young sailor mouthing off to the General has been cited by various political factions. What is known that about half a dozen men found themselves arrested on the General's Orders on the night of July 13th. As word spread around the divisional encampment, tired, hungry soldiers and sailors could set aside their differences in united anger at what what perceived as an injustice done.

At morning parade, the majority of battalions in the Division saw the men, agitated over the previous night, and carrying all the emotional weight and passions of the past several months, offer a minor rebellion, refusing to stand at attention for their senior officers. More arrests followed, as did a petition to the Major-General, signed by representatives of the Ranks, Non-Commissioned Officers and a few Junior Officers of the self-styled First Naval Division Co-Operative Committee.

Agitated, tired and angry as they were the troops had not resorted to Socialism, Vigilantism, or Anarchism. Instead they had, in no small part to members of a former ‘Pals Battalion’ that had been broken up to fill ranks in the 1st Brigade, to embrace the ideals of the Co-Operative movement, which had exploded in popularity in Britain since the introduction of rationing. Their demands were simple, practically requests, that the arrested soldiers be released, and that at the request of the troops the Major-Generals and Brigadiers of the Division host daily meetings of the Co-Operative Committee and to seek ‘ethical leadership’ so long as the Armistice continued. It was directly noted in the petition that under no circumstances would such elected committees have any power in combat, nor would they seek to replace officers as had been done by the ‘Soviets’ of the Russian Popular Front.

Shute in response to this saw nothing but a Popular Front revolt commencing. Arresting the petitioners, he sought contact from the General Staff in crushing the ‘revolt’, and sought to arrest any man who had signed on as a representative of the committee. The end result of this was something of a small riot, as the soldiers and sailors of the division sought to defend their representatives. Several concussions, broken limbs and ribs later, the senior leadership of the Division had been arrested by their own men, and the Co-Operative Committee found itself, instead of an advisory council for the airing of grievances, the de facto leadership of the entire force.

In this awkward position, they would attempt to restore the Generals to command, so long as they were willing to agree to the purpose of the Committee. Shute and his fellow officers, sure that this was a planned uprising refused to discuss any terms. The Committee, thus sought to contact the General Staff, the War Ministry and Admiralty in an attempt to explain the situation. What they viewed as a quite reasonable inquiry though as to what they should do, created something akin to mass panic.

While the 1ND would soon find itself under a Naval Captain who agreed, in the name of maintaining order and to not weaken the ‘front’, to assume command and the troops returned to their tents, to enjoy tea and lunch, the government was in a panic. The King was rushed out of London, orders for troops to defend London from the inevitable Popular Front march were sent out, and both Milford Haven and Smuts rushed to oversee the containment of the Revolution underway.

Revolution in the making or not, the extreme ends of the Army, the Political Leadership, and the Average Man on the street would all see their situations change on July 14th.​

Keep it Co-op, Comrade.
 

Japhy

Banned
Keep it Co-op, Comrade.

Things suck, but they don't "Let's start a Soviet" suck. I figured PANIC AND OVERREACTING was the best way to get the story going forward. I promise eventually I'll get to over detailed rotating minority governments and economic minutiae.
 
Well, at least this time Shute did not come cloes to any latrine. If the captain acting as CO of the 1ND is A. P. Herbert my roar is going to be heard even in London ;)
 
....

Revolution in the making or not, the extreme ends of the Army, the Political Leadership, and the Average Man on the street would all see their situations change on July 14th.

Bastille Day!

Too bad the fact that the French co-led the "bad guys" and the beneficial resonance is thus lost...:(

The elements are falling into place though; how can we have British Weimar without mutiny? Check!
 

Japhy

Banned
I am thoroughly enjoying this.

Glad to hear. I'll get to enjoy less people enjoying this when I get to monitary policy so, it means a lot.

Well, at least this time Shute did not come cloes to any latrine. If the captain acting as CO of the 1ND is A. P. Herbert my roar is going to be heard even in London ;)

Yeah, that does seem to be what Wikipedia decides to focus on.

Bastille Day!

Too bad the fact that the French co-led the "bad guys" and the beneficial resonance is thus lost...:(

The elements are falling into place though; how can we have British Weimar without mutiny? Check!

I'm a romantic, seemed like a good day if November 1918 has been relocated to the summer. And yeah, the Revolution is finally catching up with the Armistice, it's taken long enough.

Ooh, interesting. Really enjoy ersatz-Kronstadt with the 1ND...

Awaiting the events of July 14th eagerly.

Well, ersatz-Kiel Mutiny anyway...
 
The Milford Haven Government. Heh.

There's something quite Lavender (if I may) in having a relatively low-level mutiny and peaceful proposal be overreacted to and played up by future historians as a rebellion.

Keep it up, Japhy.

I doubt we've seen the last of Major Bruce.
 
Yeah, that does seem to be what Wikipedia decides to focus on.

Perhaps because it was quite unusual to have a superior officer to be named in a such a kind of poem... Not even Sassoon went as far as that, IIRC.

Well, after all "Tiger" Shute was a martinet and a quite aggressive officer (and also quite brave as he wanted to lead from the Front) so it suits him fine to be the one placed in this mess.

Well, ersatz-Kiel Mutiny anyway...

Curiously, I saw some shadows of the Popular Naval Division in Berlin, too.
 

Japhy

Banned
Perhaps because it was quite unusual to have a superior officer to be named in a such a kind of poem... Not even Sassoon went as far as that, IIRC.

Yes, I have seen the Wikipedia article, too. Its really not all that unique. Honestly he just got the job because the Royal Navy is already interned but a Division, even without Churchill at the admiralty at war's start seems like an idea someone would have. Especially when the '1940' moment rolls around.

Well, after all "Tiger" Shute was a martinet and a quite aggressive officer (and also quite brave as he wanted to lead from the Front) so it suits him fine to be the one placed in this mess.

Donkeys can be jackasses sometimes, so it seemed like a natural reaction of most British Generals. Especially when this is at least the third separate British Army of the war, or maybe fourth. The officers who would have been more in touch with their men are generally dead, on the far side of the war, or in a prison camp. Or are actually being reasonable with their men in other places in Britain.

Curiously, I saw some shadows of the Popular Naval Division in Berlin, too.

Well a lot of the People's Navy Division were part of Kiel, and the larger mutinies that followed.

The Milford Haven Government. Heh.

*Sweats Heavily*

There's something quite Lavender (if I may)

*Oh shit he's onto me*

in having a relatively low-level mutiny and peaceful proposal be overreacted to and played up by future historians as a rebellion.

HE KNOWS, CHEESE IT!

Keep it up, Japhy.

The comparison flatters me though, thanks. I certainly intend to keep it up, and am thinking about doing some Vigenettes or Short Stories based on the world as the project goes forward. Its just too much damned fun to not play with, especially as "rhyming" allows me to toss out numerous German Revolution PODs I've pondered. Though their system is better.

I doubt we've seen the last of Major Bruce.

I HopE the Major Bruce scene dIdn't have any problemS and went over pretty well. I LIked wriTing it, Especially because of my ReAL fascination with the Freikorps and its reLation to what came after. The stormtrooper-style organization he creates will be verY interesting. THe man was a consIderably nasTy LowlifE, to the extent its Really surprising he was even in the officer corps. That said, the figures he's going to be aping weren't particularly great people either, even the high-level Freikorps/Nazi/Fascist types who were officers in the German Army. It takes one kind of man to be brave, or to be creative and brave enough for the the stormtrooper elite in wartime, it takes another kind of man entirely, though there was a lot of historical overlap, to be the kind of man who would murder his own citizens in the name of a bloodsoaked, half thought up political cause.

And if I'm going to be tarnishing the reputation of anyone, I figure someone who was a Black and Tan type convicted of crimes is as good as anyone. And I hope it helps hone my abilities in writing the only sorts of people I can write (Scoundrels, Soldiers, Spies, and Shamuses). And of course bloody men will keep some folks interested when I go into the issues of the Gold Standard and railroad policy.

So yeah, lot more of him to come. At least one or two other PoV types too, but we'll also start rotating the folks who have been introduced already too.
 

Japhy

Banned
Part XI: Things Get Worse

Raymond Asquith had been riding past troops for nearly an hour before he finally found the tell-tale collection of Staff Cars that always marked where any sort of headquarters was. Killing the engine on the motorcycle he unsteadily knocked the kickstand with his boot and hoped he wasn’t about to knock the whole thing over.

Relived that it had stayed up, he moved to take off the goggles and riding helmet and to get his cap on as quickly as possible. He had one of his leather gloves between his teeth, his right arm digging through his pouch for papers when the first fellow from the collection of staffers came up. A fellow with a furrowed brow, a retreating hairline hidden somewhere under his helmet, and a chin that jutted out broad and wide. He had the look look a career man. And as such it took Raymond the longer time to recognize him.

“Alright, what is this about then… Raymond? Raymond Asquith?” His interrogator sputtered to a stop, before suddenly offering a hand as recognition dawned.

“Valentine Fleming, as I live and breath. I haven’t seen you since…”

“Before Constantinople at the latest. Glad you see you’re in good shape.” The Member of Parliament for Henley, and apparently if his insignia was any indication a Lieutenant Colonel these days, offered.

“The same, the same. Though you might not think that way after… Ah, yes here we are. He fished the paper out of his bag and handed it to the Yeoman officer, who quickly scanned it over.

He was quick with it, silently mouthing what the paper said as he read through it. It was short enough, and about the only thing he vocalized in the whole of it was a half-whispered ‘Austen Chamberlain’. When he was finished he was quick to shove it back in Asquith’s hands.

“For the love of God, man.” He emphasized the last word to the point it almost could have been a curse. “These aren’t orders. You know that.”

Fully aware that a letter of introduction from the three leaders of the main parties in opposition didn’t have any place in the structure of military command, even when one was one's own father, Asquith nodded. “I know. But you know why I had to come Val, don’t you?”

The younger and senior man grimaced and then gave a slight nod. “The whole thing is insane if you asked me. These Navy boys haven’t even left their base, they’ve sent half a dozen messages asking for orders. I’m glad someone's noticed.”

“The Marquis hasn’t responded?” Raymond asked nervously.

“Hell no. Not when he has that Boer son of a bitch screaming bloody murder about Socialist Revolution about to break out and Soviets forming in the Army.”
“So he’s not even going to talk to them?”

“He’s probably not even going to want to talk to you. Not that you’re going to take me waving you off as a no.” Fleming eyed his visitor and seemed to have taken a good measure of the man.

“I certainly won't if this is the kind of situation we’ve got going on here.” The Major offered firmly.

“I won't order you out of here then, come on. Let's get you to the ‘PM’.”

It was a minor mutiny, as far as mutinies go, Asquith thought to himself as they worked their way through the half-dried mud to the leadership of the nation. But then, if they were treating 1RND this way, well it wouldn’t take half as much effort to pull some of those Canadian troops marching down the road next to them and shoot him on the spot.

As they got closer, even above the clatter of what seemed like half a division marching down the road next to them, he could hear the crisp Dutch accent of the Boer War Minister. “Ve’re have the whole kamp enveloped by evening.” He was saying as he gestured at a civilian touring map of the area. He was wearing the Uniform of a Field Marshal. The Prime Minister that of an Admiral. Around them a mix of men, all in uniform who held themselves respectively as veterans, staff types and civilians who had spent the war in government offices until today. Pistols in holsters, rifles slung over a shoulder. More than a few, especially those without insignia on their uniforms were carrying BSAFE Machine Pistols, one of the newer inventions of the past year. And of that weird little collection to show up in the final hour that Asquith wished he’d have had in the trenches.

It was the Prime Minister who actually noticed them first, turning around to face them. “Yes Colonel Fleming, what is it?” He offered, with effectively no trace of anything approaching a German accent.

Asquith offered a quick salute and received one in turn before handing over the paper. “Major Raymond Asquith sir. The… loyal opposition leaders requested I observe the operations against the Naval Infantry.”

The Old Man offered a sad smile as he read the paper. “I’ll assume Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. MacDonald didn’t pick you out of the ether did they?”

“No Sir.”

The Marquis offered a slight nod, and something not quite a smile and not quite a pained look. “Well, with what they must think of me, I can’t say I blame them, or your… father… for wanting some eyes on us.”

The War Minister grabbed the papers at that, his dark eyes easily tracked as they moved across the lines of the paper. “This isn’t a legal order Major.” He declared when finished. “You are a soldier, under command of the army, not the whims of your fellow MPs.”

“I’m not actually a Member…”

“That doesn’t matter!” The South African officer snapped. “You have no legal right to be here! Especially not on the request of… of… the leader of The Labour Party!” He said with a degree of finality.

Though his back was already straight, Asquith felt emotionally as if he was throwing him shoulders back and rising in height as he responded. “There are questions being raised back in Parliament, Sir. Questions as to why these supposed mutineers continue to try and contact the military leadership, or their own MPs trying to resolve the situation as you continue to send troops forward.”

“Then let them question! I’m not interested in letting your country fall to a Popular Front. You think it didn’t start like this in Petrograd? A feoh troops decide that being utterly reasonable they can just arrest their officers and stop following orders, and the next thing we know, the King is going to be dead and the Red Flag will be flying across the country. Wee are at war! They are committing treason! We need to stamp it out now!”

Quite a few of the men around them were nodding. Others, like Fleming looked decidedly uneasy. Milford Haven showed nothing.

“None the less. The opposition requests that I be permitted to observe.”

Smuts’ eyes narrowed to that type of narrow slit that comes naturally to men raised under the scorching sun of of distant frontiers. “There was a time vhen I’d be able to---”

“Yes, but that wasn’t in the British Army, Minister.” Milford Haven spoke up, taking the paper from his War Minister he turned back to Raymond and handed the letter back to him. “The situation is quite dangerous Major. With all respect to your father and his fellows, they don’t realize how dangerous the situation is. Nor could they. But you’ll stay with us, and observe, you can even report back. But we are going to put this mutiny down. The survival of the nation depends on it.”

“Thank you sir.”

The Prime Minister turned back to his only ally and nodded. “Now, as you were saying Jan?”

The War Minister’s face twisted into a snarl for a moment before, suddenly and swiftly he straightened himself, and turned back to the map. The Prime Minister offering another half-nod to the Major, turned back to look at their plans as well.
A few dirty looks later and Asquith and Fleming were walking again, away from the command circle. Down the road were now marching a unit of men in mismatched uniforms, threadbare things that were weighed down by broken straps and bandoliers. The remnants of an Army beaten, only in numbers all that different than the painting of the man who’d made it back from Afghanistan generations ago.

The two mid-level officers watched them go by, Fleming reaching into his pocket to find rolling paper and tobacco, and both of them began to work rolling in silence. Eventually it was Fleming who spoke. “They’re not even bringing any of these Auxiliary Units into this.”

“Auxiliary Units?” Asquith asked, puzzled.

“Some madness Bradford thought up. You know Boy Bradford? No. Lucky you. Had to deal with him on Cyprus last year, when we were both attached to the Australasian Army Group on the withdrawal. Anyway, he’s decided to go old school, ‘Here’s your promotion and a commision of sorts Old Sport,’” he mimicked a sort of upper class Eton and Oxbridge sort of talk that admittedly, both men had next to no place to actually mock. “‘Now go off and raise an independent unit will you? Set up your camp where ever you want, get all the maniacs, thugs, peaky blinders, conmen, fanatics, and killers you want from your old units, oh and take your pick from the lads. Raise volunteers even! Here’s the money, here's the guns, here’s the kit. Just make sure that they’re all as calm and reasonable as Colonel Pride’s old bunch. Thats a good man.’ He’s building a political army for them.”

“Good God.” Offered Asquith.

“Gangs of pirates. My boys are all still sitting in Palestine. They gave me a provisional unit right before the landings. Lost a half in combat, lost half of whats left to kids and old men going home. The next half got grabbed by some madman with an eyepatch and a bunch of stripped down trucks with Machine guns on top. And then someone here came up with the idea of forcing an MP or two to be part of this, for the photographers.”

“I’m sorry Val.” Asquith offered.

“I’m not. Got as many of them though that madness before the Armistice in one piece. At least they’re alive.”

“Still, what the hells going to happen now? Political forces in the country, last time we had that there was a Civil Wa---”

A burst of shot ripped across the air, and suddenly Asquith, Fleming, and for that matter, nearly every man in the marching columns hit the dirt, reached for side arms and kept trying to figure out where it was coming from. In the sudden silence there was only screaming.

Turning towards it, the scene at the staff cars was chaos. Most of the men, those recent civilians were on their feet looking around dazed. The men who obviously had gone to staff from the trenches or at least from the Boer War were quick to their feet, rushing to the three men on the ground wounded.

By the time Fleming and Asquith were raising up into practical runners starts to get to the scene, one of the veteran staffers had walked over to the bright young thing, dumbfoundedly holding his Machine Pistol, which had, while slung across his chest gone off at what appeared to be random. The young man was so dazed he hadn’t even pointed the thing towards the ground as a few whiffs of smoke rose out of the muzzle.

The rest were dealing with the wounded men.

Some NCO type who was all muscle and looked like the sort to have survived Kimberley, The March to Tibet, The Peking Legations and had landed at Smyrna back in 1914, had a clean shot, in the back of his head, that had exited in the most gruesome way imaginable from the front.

Jan Smuts, War Minister, and either General or Field Marshall had two rounds in his leg and was very rapidly turning from screams of pain into screaming obscenities.

And between the two of them was a terrible sight, The Marquis of Milford Haven was getting the most attention, for he had taken several pistol sized rounds, and was a mess of mud and blood. From his right side of his neck to his left thigh, blood oozed from his wounds and at least one was offering the bloody foam of a round in the lung. The Doctor was over him, doing what he could, which at this point was just trying to find enough morphine to end it quickly.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…” The Prime Minister was scream-muttering. One of the staff men was holding his head up. Asquith turned and vomited. Fleming simply looked on in horror.

“I don’t know!”

“God Damn it! Vatts happening?”

“Oh God, Oh God.”

“Get my bloody damned kitbag! It's in the truck”

“It just went off! I don’t know!”

“Oh God, Oh God.”

“What happened!” Yelled an officer from the road.
The Doctor found enough morphine. He was prepping a second shot as soon as the first was done.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I didn’t mean for it to go off! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

“Vhat the hell is happening! Is he dead?” Smuts shouted.

Asquith was dry heaving. As he heard Fleming talking to himself next to him. “I saw it another time too, right before we went into combat. They’re just made so cheaply, No safeties, just takes you jerking them and sometimes…”

Raymond Asquith looked up again, another needle was going in. What was left of the NCO was still oozing out. He’d seen all of this before, hoped he’d grown harder and less human enough not to care. He began to feel it again, losing control, facing the ground, coughing up nothing.

“And the hell of it is. Who’s ever going to believe it? Who is ever going to just accept that the BSAFEs,” He pronounced it ‘Bee-Safe’ “are garbage and just happened to kill him?”

Asquith, feeling weak looked up at the Conservative MP. The man was transfixed on the scene. “Who’s ever going to believe a misfire killed the Prime Minister? Killed him at a time like this…”

Raymond of course knew.

No one.​
 
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So the elder Mountbatten dies in a misfire, Smuts is injured, and at the worst possible time? Things are going to get interesting...
 

Japhy

Banned
So the elder Mountbatten dies in a misfire, Smuts is injured, and at the worst possible time? Things are going to get interesting...

DID YOU KNOW THAT? The MP-18 of the WWI German Army and the 1940 STEN Gun of the British were also highly likely to accidentally just start shooting because of exceptionally cheap construction and lack of safeties.

Also BSAFE is like BREN or STEN a cheap quick acronym of its producer, the British Small Arms Factory and Enfield. No I will not be doing weapons stats in this story, but as the 1918 Submachine Gun on the scene, it will be a standard side arm of the Auxiliary Units.
 
... but as the 1918 Submachine Gun on the scene, it will be a standard side arm of the Auxiliary Units.

Somehow, I think issuing faulty automatic weapons prone to spraying bullets by accident to units that will be enaging in urban pacification and crowd control isn't going to end well.

That said, I do love this TL already and my congratulations to the author for his work.
 

Japhy

Banned
It had to be an accident...

I thought I'd made that clear enough. If I didn't I'll have to rewrite the scene.

now a peaceful solution to the mutiny is out of the question...

You might say that.

Somehow, I think issuing faulty automatic weapons prone to spraying bullets by accident to units that will be enaging in urban pacification and crowd control isn't going to end well.

That said, I do love this TL already and my congratulations to the author for his work.

Thanks. Always glad to be praised and loved have another fan.

And just like with the Sten in WWII, when the thing did work it was great. Same with the MP-18 the Freikorps got to carry around, one just has to deal with occasional accidents. While incidents have been recorded, they didn't happen regularly enough that it was a monstrous disaster. This was just the worst possible time for an incident to happen. The fact that it was some Whitehall type pressed into service by a desperate government probably didn't help.
 
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