Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история

Третья мировая война 1946 - Красная волна - Сталин атак впервые - Альтернативная история
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Friday, October 19, 2012

The Decisive Blow by RangerElite


1321
On an abandoned Japanese base,
Somewhere in Soviet-Occupied Manchuria

Long Shien had been working day and night on the tanks that the Russians had brought in four days ago under great secrecy, repairing engines and retrofitting new guns on the former German tanks, spoils of the people's war against fascism. Now they will be used, along with surrendered Japanese tanks, in a frontal assault against the Nationalist warmonger pigs. They would be taking the fight to the capitalists for the for the first time since the war with the Japanese had ended. And these deadly technological wonders, built by the oppressed German workers and forced slave labor, will be used as the spearhead of a decisive battle, one that will decide the future of China, and of world communism.

The tank he was currently working on was a King Tiger, with heavier armor and a larger gun than the original Tiger tank, and was being re-engined and re-gunned with Soviet copies of Allison gasoline-turbine engines and Soviet weapons. In the case of this particular tank, it was being re-engined and Long was assisting in re-gunning it with a 122mm anti-tank gun. Long Shien would do his part to advance the People's War, and he would make sure that this gun would destroy the capitalist enemy.

There were already three regiments formed from these tanks, along with Soviet and former Japanese tanks, and they would form the spearhead of the Shock Army that they were forming, as an all-or-nothing gamble, feeling that through all the set-backs in recent months, this could be the action that they needed in order to further their cause. They had been far too lax since the Japanese surrendered late last year, and the Soviets had been increasingly stingy with the new weapons and training since they began their war of Liberation in Western Europe. But now, there was a chance.

Communist workshops have been busy rechambering the captured, mismatched, weapons that they'd been receiving from the Soviets' European campaign. Fortunately, the majority of the weapons were of German manufacture, and the Chinese had been making the 8mm Mauser ammunition for many years now. The problem lay in the mountains of captured British and American weapons, along with smaller quantities of French, Belgian, Dutch and Scandinavian weapons now being supplied. Comrade Long was honored to be contributing in such a great endeavor, to free the people of the world from the oppressive yoke of capitalism.

As Comrade Long went back to focusing on his work, he noticed his work commissar, Hsu Shieng-hwei, had appeared from nowhere with an eternally sour scowl on his face “Comrade Long! You are installing that gun breech wrong! I would be ashamed to show your work to even the worst of our comrade Soviet armorers! Rotate that breech a quarter turn to the right and tighten it up NOW!” Long Shien felt himself get hot with embarrassment and quickly began to make the corrections that his commissar so forcefully instructed him to make. Comrade Commissar Hsu was always so hard on him, insulting him in front of everyone and berating his work. Were it not for the cause they both served, and the fact that Hsu was more equal than he, Long would have slowly painfully murdered him by now. But he did his part to advance the cause, and that meant ignoring the abuse from the commissar and doing his job to the best of his ability, and he would continue to do so until the day of final victory, or his glorious death.

50 Berkeley Square

The noise down in the basement was very unusual. For the last couple of lifetimes things had been very quiet down there. I just had to go down and see what was going on. I chose the usual way and went through the top 3 floors without drawing so much as a glance. One of the women who was making the most noise in the basement suddenly stopped and looked around. I guess she was one of those people who can sense things. Seeing nothing she went back to work.

They had gutted the whole basement and were putting in large tables and huge charts on the wall. I think they were putting in strings for those things they call phones and the noise was deafening.

I was not use to the noise. For a very long time I had the home to myself for the most part. Every once in a while someone would move in but eventually they would leave or die. I’ve had quite a few die in the house over the years. Many seemed to stay despite whatever I could do to dissuade them from remaining. They tried to ignore me for the most part. Children seemed particularly fascinated with me.

This new lot was particularly involved in what they were doing. It had been a long time since any improvements had been done to the home. I did not think what they were doing was an improvement. All these little rooms with a desk and phones…dozens and dozens of phones all connected by those strings or wires I guess you call them. I am learning many new words. Such things as yaks and squadrons, some really interesting terms and names are very intriguing.

The other day they were mentioning Listening Posts. Can you imagine a post with ears? Why would you have such a thing or just now they were talking about Spitfires. That must be a horrible thing: Something that spits fire on the loose and apparently is flying around. From what I can gather there are a lot of things flying around that are not birds out there. I cannot look outside to see for myself.

It seems the basement has been turned into a kind of headquarters for some kind of fighting. They have put down large maps of what I assume is Britain and the women are moving around and listening to something though contraptions they have about their heads. Apparently they can speak and hear something or someone that tells them to move little pieces of wood around on the maps using long thin sticks with a little hoe at the end. They push these wood blocks around and others watch them and then the men rush off to talk into those phones. So far the majority of the blocks have stayed in France from what I can figure out.

I remember another time when what sounded like explosions shook the house. Sometimes for what seemed like hours. Then the sirens would stop and all would be quiet. I wonder if that was going to happen again? I don’t get much excitement in my existence anymore. I had long ago stopped thinking of the reasons for my existence and just continued being.

English is not my native language or I should say this version of English. I can catch some of the words but much of what is said is beyond my comprehension. I believe I have lost the ability to learn. This is most annoying considering that 3 of the upstairs floors are filled with books. I very rarely come down from the 4th floor and even more rarely come out of the room but the noise down the basement was too much of a temptation.

The air shaft provides a convenient passageway down and saves me from the look of horror when I am seen. I can be seen or not seen at my discretion but I prefer not to be touched. So the air shaft is a perfect conduit to the goings on in the basement. I will state most emphatically here and now that I do regret the deaths I have caused. Some were not my fault but one was. You see I can see into the hearts of the sentient beings I come in contact with. That is why I do not like to be touched or to touch anyone.

The person I killed or should I say frightened to death was a monster. Some drunk sailor that has just horribly raped a young girl as he had done many a time before. This time she had died. At the age of 13 she had been used and then strangled and then mutilated by this butcher. Shortly after this horrific deed he ended up stumbling into my room along with his partner. I was so startled by their sudden appearance that I was touched by him. I then saw what he had just done. So I made myself known and he died of fright I guess you would say. His friend escaped.

One of the men down in the basement almost reeked of malevolence. He was an evil man. I was very tempted to make myself known to him down in the basement but for some reason I felt it was against some unwritten rule. He was going or had done something very heinous to the others in the room and also to many others. He was going to cause the deaths of many yet would also save many; an interesting outcome that I did not quite understand. In war one sometimes forgets that there are two or more sides and when one side wins the others lose and the death of one can save the lives of many. This man I would have liked to meet face to face in the room upstairs.

I have overheard and understand that I am quite famous in certain quarters. The current residents in the lower 3 floors do not bother me but run their book business and leave me alone. I do prefer this. I really do not like frightening people. My home is called the most haunted house in London. I suppose I should be flattered but I do not know my role in the grand scheme of things. Why am I trapped here? What is my purpose? Have I been here for decades to just frighten to death that sailor? How do I find release and peace?
My address is 50 Berkeley Square London, England. Do not drop by for a visit. You will most likely be sorely disappointed…or depending on what is in your heart…possibly not.

The Right Man by Tallthinkev


'Come in Keith. Thank you for coming along.' said Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Arthur Tedder 'take a seat.'
'It's was no problem Sir' Sir Keith Park said he sat down at the table. The very top of the RAF were sitting around the same table, with Tedder at the head.
'First things first. We must congratulate you again on the success of the raid over France. We had our doubts, but worked better than we had hoped. We gave them a very bloody nose and may have set them back a few weeks.' That was Sir Stanley Vincent, head of Fighter Command.
'Thank you sir. If I may add.'
'If I could hold you there Sir Keith.' that was the voice of another Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sholto Douglas. Sholto Douglas, himself, had been very lucky to get out of Germany when the Russians had attacked 'Do you think we should do something like that again?'

Before he could answer, Douglas continued, 'We think it was very lucky and to do it again would be a big mistake.'

Sir Arthur Harris no longer the head of Bomber Command, but still had his finger very much on the pulse.

'Hit and run a small scale, like the Germans did on the south coast in the last war was and will be again, very hard to stop. We couldn't stop then and neither will the Russians.
'What do you wish me to do now then sirs?'
'We have not yet, formally decided.' was the answer from Stanley Vincent, head of Fighter Command. 'WE have been thinking of giving you the job of coordinating all the parts of RAF in the country. By which we mean each command does not get in each other way.'

Harris almost shouted 'Bomber Command does not get in anyone's way.'

'Calm down Arthur.' that was Tedder 'we know the contribution made by your boys last time round. Your turn will come again.' Harris was clearly not overly happy but kept quiet.
'Maybe I could put it better, Keith' said Tedder 'You know the service inside out from Fighter and Coastal Commands here, as well as what you did in the Med and against the Japs. We would like you to have a think about the ways you can put that knowledge to good use here. What do you think?'
'I'll have to have all the information you can give me. Maybe within the next few days I could work something out. Will that be all right?'
'As long as you can get a preliminary report to us be the end of the week, we then, can look it over.'
'I'll do my best, sir. Is there anything else?' said Sir Keith

Tedder replied 'I believe that is all. Anyone else have anything to add? No. Well thank you for coming and we will see on Friday.'

Sir Leonard Slatter, of Coastal Command, the head in fact, interrupted 'Sorry sir. I forgot to ask Sir Keith about Bader.'

Harris muttered something under his breath. Vincent just rolled his eyes.

'I'm sorry sir, I don't think I'm the best person to ask.'
'Yes we know there has been some history between the two of you, even though you took some of his advice on the large sweep But where do you think he can be put to the best use? The public love him.'

Silence.

'All I want is him out the way and somewhere where he can't mess things up' said Harris 'the most arrogant man I have ever met. And even worse now he got his promotion. thinks he should be sitting here no doubt.'

A wry smile came across the face of Tedder. 'How about a tour of the Empire? As it has been pointed out the public love him and he loves nothing more than talking about himself.'

They all loved this idea. Out of sight, out of mind.


Sir Keith had been booked into the Savoy Hotel, at a much reduced rate. He wasn't really sure how he felt about this. He had been called a war hero and they want to treat him a such, but he did feel guilty. There were still a lot of Londoners without a home let alone a house. After a light supper he retired to his room, he had a lot of work to do. Lucky for himself he had a telephone in his room. It was just a matter of ringing the hotel operator for an outside line. He rang a number of group and station chiefs that he had known from his time when head of Coastal Command. Some had move on others where only too willing to give him their points of view. He had taken a number of notes during the conversations and was time to put them into some kind of order. He didn't realize in was after one thirty until he had finished.

When he awoke he knew it was time for more work, but not after a good breakfast. By the time he ended breakfast and writing up the last few notes he called up his driver. It was time to get to the real work. Feet on the ground so to speak and talk face to face, to everyone. Maybe even the NAFFI food had got better. Tangmere first then a number of other Kent stations.
On the Friday afternoon Sir Keith met with Tedder alone. Tedder took his time looking over the report that he had been given. It was a lot more detailed then he had expected, in fact it was a little too detailed then he had thought possible in the amount of time he had given him.

'Another cup of tea Keith or something stronger?'
'What ever you’re having sir.'
'Whisky all right?'

'That would be very nice sir.'

'Now tell me in your own words, what is the main problem? As I can make out you surmise most thing are fine, with just a few kinks to be ironed out.'
'I wouldn't put in a simply as that sir. There are quite a few little things that make it a larger problem than when first looked at.'
'Please continue Keith.'
'The way I look at it is some Commands overlap each other, be which I mean they are both doing the same job. For instance, both Fighter and Coastal command are doing the same job on the south coast. Flying patrols, looking out for Russians, if Coastal Command find some they have to radio in fighters, which as you know, is Fighter Commands job in the first place. Now if we can arrange for Fighter command to take the job in the first place this can free Coastal Command for more patrols in the east.'

Tedder nodded.

'Also Home Command, can, but no means at all the time send out pilots to the wrong place. Weather this is the commands fault, which I very much doubt. Or some of the pilots, I wouldn't say lie, but may not tell the whole truth about what they did in the last war. This is one one thing that has to be tighten up. Also ground crews can be sent to stations, to service aircraft that they may have never worked on before.'

The meeting carried on for over another hour. Tedder now thought he had the right man for the job he wanted doing. The right man for the right job.