March 11th, 1945. London.
Oswald Mosely, the Chairman of the Workers Union of Britain, is sitting inside a basement inside a military installation in downtown London. Ever since the revolution had kicked out the Loyalists to the British Empire, he knew that one day the Union would have had to face them and crush them to ensure the survival of the Syndicalist Revolution. He had hoped that the mighty Red Fleet, one of the strongest in the Third Internationale, could destroy any of the Royalist fleets mustered against them, but fate was cruel in its comedy. The Red Fleet lay sunk at the bottom of the Atlantic and the North Sea, two major engagements had reduced the mighty syndicalist vanguard of the high seas to a motley patchwork of outdated and damaged cruisers, destroyers and submarines. "No more carriers, battleships or battlecruisers for this old fleet" he stated when he read the reports after those battles, he knew then that his supposedly unassailable island was now as vulnerable as any other.
But that was last year, a year before everything went further into the shitter. On January 9th, 1945. The Entente had finally made landfall, Canadians, British Exiles, Australians, Indians and so many other nationalities had arrived in force, landing all across the region in Wales, using the already capitulated Irish Syndicalist Republic as a springboard for the invasion. He had believed his soldiers ready, he head believed that the battle-hardened veterans of the battlefields in France he had pulled them from, were ready to fight and die for the Home Island, and to an extent, he was right. But that was about it. What he did not expect was the fact that the Entente air forces absolutely wrecking the Republican Air Force during the six-month air battle over the island that started last year, and without said air force, the Home Islands were subjected to strategic bombing up and down the whole damn place.
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Mosley flinched as he felt the walls of the basement shudder, he knew he had to escape London, get the hell out of here alive or die trying because if he didn't and was captured alive? Who knows what the royalists would do to him? He had failed to make his escape early on because of his belief in his military, something that still stayed even when he read the reports that there was fighting on the outskirts of London, and then when the city was encircled on the 20th of February. That faith in his military was now biting him in the ass as his faith in a relief effort by the 3rd Armored Corp commanded by General Percy Hobart launched from Cambridge had failed and been utterly crushed, his only hope now was a midget submarine waiting for him in the Thames River. Said submarine was going to take him to the only remaining Syndicalist nation in the world, the People's Republic of Argentina, "Damnable Traitors" Mosley called them when he heard that they rejected his call for them to join the Internationale in 1942, he was even more furious when he found out that the Argentinians were trading with both the Entente and the Reichspakt. But, for all of that hate, he knew that it was his last place to go to in order to escape his crimes.
But in order to reach that submarine, he first had to get to the damn thing, but with fighting across the city, he needed an escort less he would be captured by Entente soldiers fighting all over the place against his union soldiers. Hence why he was waiting inside a basement somewhere in downtown, he had requested escort forces and they were currently fighting their way to him for the past hour, and every minute he waited in this bunker, the more nervous he became.
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Suddenly, the door to the basement swung open and several soldiers carrying No.9 rifles entered
"Chairman, the escort has arrived, a pair of Mk.VIII 'Marx' tanks and a captured Ram half-track are waiting for you outside" The corporal stated as he looked at his commander
"Thank you soldier, but before I go, do any of you have a spare firearm for this old chap?" Mosley asked with a small wry smile
The soldiers glanced at one another before the youngest among them pulled out an old Webley Revolver and handed it over to the chairman
"Here sir, this is my lucky revolver, hope it helps you" The young lad said with a hint of regret for giving his piece away
"Thank you dear boy, I will make good use of it, don't you worry" The chairman replied with a nod
"Alright, let's get going" The corporal stated as he and the rest began to move out of the bunker
Following behind them, Mosley finally made it out to the surface, the sounds of fighting filling the air as gunshots, tank cannons roaring and bombs and explosives going off were audible in the distance, it was an overcast noon and it seemed it was going to rain soon. He hurriedly sprinted behind the soldiers as they darted from cover to cover in the small alleyway until they got to the main road, there, he saw the two tanks waiting for him and the Ram as well, the soldiers quickly escorting and ushering the chairman into the half-track before the convoy got moving.
The convoy trudged along through the ruined and smoldering streets of London, with the soldiers atop the tanks and the half-track scanning the buildings and destroyed alleys for any sigh of Entente ambushers, Mosely himself was also scanning the surroundings, his brodie helmet strapped on tight.
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The crack of a rifle filled the air as a sniper in a two-story house directly in front of the convoy took a shot at the chairman, the bullet ricocheting off the helmet but sending him to the steel bed of the Ram
"Driver get us the hell out of here!" The soldier manning the browning .30 cal machine gun shouted as he began firing at the building in front of them
BOOM
It did not take long for the pair of 'Marx' tanks to throw two HE rounds in the building as well, the 17-pounders making quick work of the target, and once it began to collapse, the entire convoy began to hightail it the hell out of there.
A medic checked on the chairman as he removed his helmet, laughing like a madman when he saw the bullet dent and repeatedly patted his head to find only a bump from the metal striking him, he was alive and he had just brushed with death. The convoy began to quicken their pace as they did some turns to lose any pursuers and soon got to the bank of the Thames, with Big Ben in the distance, all shot up and visibly gutted as several chunks of the tower were missing.
"Come on sir! We have to get out now!" One of the soldiers shouted as he hoped out of the transport, offering his hand up to the chairman
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But to his horror, the sudden sound of machine gun fire surprised everyone before the soldier outside the half-track was riddled with bullets, his blood splattering over Mosley who shouted in horror and reeled back into the half-track.
"Ambush! Protect the Chairman! For the Union!" The corporal shouted as he leaped out of the transport and fired off his No.9 rifle at a building behind them
Several more soldiers followed him while Mosley was left stunned and mentally paralyzed. The gunshots and screams outside his transport filled his ears, he peaked out to see and saw his escorting soldiers get gunned down relentlessly, seeing their bodies spurt out blood from multiple hits before they hit the ground. He then flinched when one of the Mk.VIII 'Marx' tanks fired its 17-pounder at the building, the sound of the cannon bringing the chairman back to his senses as he then exited the Ram from the commander's side, falling onto the ground in a heap before a soldier who was busy firing back at the enemy picked him up and then shielded him from another hail of bullets, costing the soldier her life.
He then saw several soldiers waiting by a ladder leading down to the river, they were gesturing at him as they laid down covering fire, and behind them, a midget submarine surfaced, his eyes widened and he began sprinting as best he could to reach the soldiers waiting for him. But as he passed one of the 'Marx' tanks, he heard a cannon in the distance fire, with the shell screaming past him before he fell to the ground thanks. to the tank getting hit and exploding, he glanced behind him and saw the burning husk before hearing the same cannon go off again and seeing the second tank also getting struck and began cooking off. He then turned his gaze forward and saw a platoon of Canadian soldiers with an A43 Black Prince heavy tank rolling towards them, with the BESA machine gun aboard the tank ripping the soldiers near the ladder to shreds. Mosley quickly got up and tried to run towards the railing to try and jump over them, but a sudden shot to his left leg made him cry out and lean on the damn thing.
With his armored escorts in flames behind him and desperation filling his soul, Mosley then saw as the sub in the river was blown to bits by a tank shell fired from the Canadian A34 Thunderbolt a few hundred meters away on the other side of the river. There was no escape now and he knew it. Before the chairman could raise the revolver to his head, two shots from an exile marine had struck his shoulder and his right leg, sending the man down to the cold pavement while his revolver fell out of his hand and into the river past the railings. He winced and groaned as a platoon of Canadian soldiers and SBS Commandos approached him, the captain of which had a smirk on his face as he looked down at the man with his rifle aimed at him.
"Chaps, radio command. We got the chairman"
A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed this small chapter and the rest that will come along the way! Fair warning, I will not post as much because I am still focusing on my main series I am currently writing, you can check them out if you want to see my style of writing, and if you are a fan of the mod, I hope you enjoyed the chapter as well. If you have comments or reactions, let me know in the comments down below and I hope you enjoy the rest coming soon!
