1943-1944 – Death of a Dream
While the power of the International waned in Europe, fighting continued across Africa and Asia. In East Africa, the initial successes of the anti-imperialist rebellions in the region when the Papacy began to move the bulk of its army to counter their advance. From the end of 1942 the area under their control would slowly dwindle until the rebels were left isolated in the mountains and jungles that their European masters could not reach. In South Asia, the Indians succeeded in capturing Kabul and bringing an end to Papal rule in Asia in late 1942, but found their frontline with the Russians almost completely stagnant as both sides found offensive operations almost impossible in the Hindu Kush mountains. The one area where there was notable fighting was around Kashgar – with the city trading hands five times between mid 1942 and the end of 1943.
Of greater world-historic significance were events in China. After invading South East Asia in the winter of 1940-41, the Japanese had hoped to turn their war with China in their favour. Yet the deadlock that had held for years by that point, with the Japanese holding the coast but unable to push into the interior, remained stubbornly unmoved. This situation caused immense frustration and hardship in both Japan and China alike. In China, anger at the foreign invader accelerated the development of a militant ethnic nationalism that modelled itself on Russian Radicalism – pursuing a future of Chinese freedom from foreign oppression and Han domination of China’s myriad minority populations. These nationalists were well organised under the banner of the Chinese People’s Revolutionary Party, or CPRP.
With the popularity growing among the masses and the military in particular, the nationalists seized power in January 1943 and proceeded to unleash a wave of revolutionary fury against minorities and symbols of the old liberal elite that had failed in the war with Japan. The Revolutionary Party rallied millions from the villages into vast militia armies and embarked on a great offensive along the Yangtze River. To the shock of observers, the Japanese army broke in the face of this fervent assault and in June the Chinese flag was restored to its rightful place over Shanghai while upwards of 200,000 Japanese prisoners were taken. After years of attritional warfare, these losses were devastating for the Japanese and through the rest of the year they lost control over all of their enclaves in mainland China – although the Chinese failed in their attempts to push southwards into South East Asia as well.
On the Eastern Front, the capturing of dozens of International divisions in the early months of 1943 had left huge haps in the socialists’ lines in the southern and northern sectors of the frontline – although they retained a great deal of strength in the centre. Seeking to maintain the momentum of their previous victories, the Russians resumed their attacks in May after a short pause of a few weeks. In the north, Russian armour punched through the depleted German lines along the Baltic and reoccupied Prussia, Gdansk and the Vozhd’s home region in Pomerania – reaching as far west as Rugen by the end of the month before the Germans were finally able to slow their progress to a crawl as they grew disconcertingly close to Berlin, the greatest city of northern Germany.
In the south, the offensive proceeded more slowly, with infantry capturing the mountainous eastern Carpathian region to clear the way from more mobile units to advance rapidly along the Black Sea coast towards the Danube. Only reaching Bucharest in early June, the Russians then rushed with lightening speed to cut Constantinople off from the rest of the front and make progress towards northern Greece. The ancient city was then placed under siege for the second time in the war. In the centre of the front, the International’s strength proved to be something of a curse. Fending off Russians attacks, much of the Russian army being by this stage wearied from months on the front foot, Old Poland and Warsaw remained firmly in their grip. However, the collapse of their lines in other areas left the last sizeable battle ready army group in the International had in the field in Eastern Europe at risk of a grand encirclement as Russian forces made progress all around them.
In late June 1943 something extraordinary happened along the Elbe, south of Berlin near the city of Cottbus and on the North Sea near Hamburg, Russian and American came into contract with one another on German soil. Since their landings in the Low Countries in April the Allies had made incredible rapid progress across Western Europe – capturing the birthplace of the revolution in the Ruhr and sweeping across much of northern Germany and pushing deep into France as far as Lyon and the Rhone Valley and the suburbs of Paris. The International was not yet wholly beaten. The reds had regained a number of the cities that the Andalucian Partisans had captured in the spring, while although their authority was falling apart in much of Europe several strong fighting armies remained in the field – notably in Old Poland and in Italy, where the local socialist regime had made an effort to fortify themselves against invasion. Nonetheless, the final outcome of the war was now inevitable for all to see. Europe would soon come under the domination of the Russians in the east and the Americans in the west.
Although they shared a socialist enemy, the relationship between east and west was deeply hostile. The Americans in particular despised Russia and the dark, totalitarian and racialist ideology that it represented. Not only was this the antithesis of the New World’s democratic ideals, the Russian Radicals horrific crimes against the Tatars haunted the millions of Americans with Turkic ancestry, many of them first generation migrants and refugees from the old Polish empire. This community formed a powerful lobby in New Cordoba committed to implacable hostility to Kiev. As such, the United States did not even recognise the Radicals as Poland’s legitimate government – supporting a Tsarist government in exile.
The Papacy too was anti-Russian – with their having occupied much of their colonial empire in Central Asia in the 1930s, lands now a battleground between Russia and India with the Asian power having taken over the rest of the Papal empire in the region, and large parts of the Papal Middle East during the 1940s. The Danes, a major player in the coalition that had gone to war with the International in 1933 and one of several Allied governments in exile, were also infuriated by Makarov’s move to establish Norwegian, Swedish and Finnish client states across the Scandinavia in lands that had been ruled directly from Copenhagen for centuries. Of the major players in the western alliance, only the Skots had a working relationship with Kiev. With these enmities seething, there were very real concerns that war between the Allies and Eurasian League could break out before the International was even defeated. Indeed, after the initial friendly meetings on the Elbe, American and Russian troops traded fire in a number of locations in northern Germany in late June and early July. In truth, this was an escalation both parties hoped to avoid.
Boris Makarov, having ascended to heroic status in his homeland after standing by Kiev during its darkest hour as the International surrounded the city in October 1942 and then overseen the crushing victories of 1943, took a proactive role in attempting to avert a clash with the West. Taking on the role of the international statesman, one he had largely shunned through his quarter century of goose-stepping aggression, Makarov had extended feelers to the Allied powers as victory over the International grew more inevitable in the late spring and summer. For much of America’s ethnic-Andalucian establishment, the issue of anti-Radicalism was less emotive and there was a desire for some sort of accord with Kiev. Yet, fearing the fury of working class Tatars, contact with Russia would have to come indirectly. At the beginning of July, Makarov flew in person to Damietta in Ascalon, a small Jewish state in the Nile Delta with close ties to Egypt, where he meet a team of Skottish diplomats in the Skottish Embassy. In farciful scenes, the American government expressed concern at their ally’s meeting with the great dictator and refused to allow any representative to attend the meeting. Yet at the same time the Skots passed secret communications between New Cordoba and Makarov. The tense negotiations in Damietta would do much to shape the postwar Europe. Such were their secretive and hostile nature, no formal agreements were created – but there was an acceptance of fact on the ground. The Allies would continue to condemn Russian occupations and its wider regime, but would not fight to overturn them. In return, Makarov committed Russia to only limited annexations and agreed to make no effort to push his armies into Western Europe – in particular leaving Italy to the Allies. Both parties agreed that Germany should be divided into multiple separate states so that it might never threaten European peace again.
The Damietta Agreement had an immediate effect on the ground, with both the Allies and Russians restraining their militaries to avoid conflict between one another. Notably, when the Russians arrived in Trieste in late July, with the Americans still fighting in Lombardy and Piedmont, they held back from the Veneto to allow the Allies to secure it. On the front, the fighting power of the International had been definitively broken in mid-July with the surrender of the German army in Old Poland. By early August, with all of France and Germany lost, the International fought on only in a handful of holdouts mostly in southern Europe – in Greece, the West Balkans, Italy and Andalucia, while in the north a mixture of Scandinavians and VSVR diehards had built a fortress in the Oresund centred on Copenhagen that had already repulsed numerous Russian attacks.
The last major Russian battle of the war was over the Danish island. Deploying more than thirty divisions, bringing to bear the power of the entire Russian air force and making largescale use of paratroopers for the first time in Russian military history, the fight for Copenhagen lasted almost a month from the middle of August until the final capitulation of the Scandinavians on September 9th. The loss of Copenhagen hastened the end for the remaining socialist armies. On September 21st the VSVR offered its unconditional surrender, although many revolutionary diehards continued the struggle for weeks to come. The Italians in particular remained a viable force even at this stage, slowly engaging the overwhelming power of the Allies in a battling retreat down the peninsula, only losing Rome in early October before surrendering after the loss of Naples in late November.
In an odd quirk of fate, the last men standing in the socialist alliance was the Brazilian expeditionary core and ragtag band of revolutionaries in southern Iberia who were not finally defeated until the end of January 1944 after a last stand in Malaga. The following month anti-socialist elements within the Brazilian military overthrew the government and sued for peace with the Allies – bringing an end to the Second World War in the west, a dozen years from the overthrow of the Archbishopric of Hesse. With that, the revolutionary dreams of the Socialist International were extinguished once and for all.
Although the war in Europe was over, the belligerent powers of India and Japan were far from beaten – with a combined population approaching half a billion and great military resources. However, having by the time of the surrender at Malaga, hundreds of thousands of Russian troops were already en route to Central Asia. Although the Americans kept true to their insistence that they would not fight to preserve European colonialism, the defeat of the International and freed up the Papacy and Skots to begin redeployments of their own to the Indian Ocean.