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Is it me or are these words a rough 25 years too early?
Bascially the exact same situation, only even worse.
It's obvious that the Federation is wishing to assert her authority, and it's not going to make itself popular among sections of the overseas, and even in Britain itself as it will surely suffer the hardest from the post-war blues and it finds itself not really fully sovereign over herself anymore.
True but the only way it's ever going to work long term is it moving away from being British led and focused. To what extent that happens, the reaction to it from everyone and where the new balance lies is the huge issue at the heart of it all. But it certainly cannot carry on as an empire with an extreme bias towards the UK. Not with some of the other nations involved.
 
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There are reasons why the Germans were so feared as a great power before the war...

Given that Germany is even more obviously the war monger and sole antagonist than in otl, the peace terms are going to be harsh indeed.
Always nice to have a quick reminder that this is a very anglo-bias AAR. Not that it's a bad thing, I enjoy it just as much for that fact, but British diplomacy towards Germany wasn't all to friendly in the leadup to the war either (here or IRL), so there is still a German side to this story to consider.
True but the only way it's ever going to work long term is it moving away from being British led and focused. To what extent that happens, the reaction to it from everyone and where the new balance lies is the huge issue at the heart of it all. But it certainly cannot carry on as an empire with an extreme bias towards the UK. Not with some of the other nations involved.
Which is why I said the second part of my statement. The binding of the overseas will to Britain itself and finding herself steered by that instead of the other way around will be the hardest pill to swallow, but it has to be swallowed if the Federation is to work
 
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That's a disaster, no matter how you spin it. Occupying the Netherlands and Belgium, driving the British into the sea and wrecking Russia -

I change my assessment. The German High Command may know that they can't keep this up, but they may think they don't have to do so for very much longer.

The one hope is that the Americans get into action quickly and do well. The public will be reluctant to turn out an administration in wartime.
 
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The shaky Americans are not a good sign. I'm beginning to think that the Entente victory won't be quite as complete as I was expecting. If Germany can keep the game up long enough to make an American landing overly costly then they might just choose to go for an easier peace
 
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Apologies for the delay to even the three-week schedule all. It has been a murderously busy month at work and, I cannot lie, a lot of the evenings I'm usually most productive on FAWHA were spent with colleagues at the pub last week.

I notice I've been given WritAAR of the week despite my shameful tardiness on the chapter, and want to thank @slothinator here, as well as in the appropriate thread right after this.

Finally, before we get to the usual scheduled business;


The war is starting to hurt both sides enough that onlookers have gone through the stage of staying well clear and are now back round to judging when to join for their own best advantages...

I think I mentioned in the relevant 1901 essay that every non-micronation in Europe would be involved by the end. At this point, the list of neutrals is very thin indeed. Switzerland and the Scandinavians is the extent of it, I think.

Is it me or are these words a rough 25 years too early?

Gives a rather nice new meaning to this poster from the 20'ies
[BIG POSTER]
Of course anti-belgicist, but with the new German colours to be expected post war you might as wel add another tail going to "Berlijn"

It's obvious that the Federation is wishing to assert her authority, and it's not going to make itself popular among sections of the overseas, and even in Britain itself as it will surely suffer the hardest from the post-war blues and it finds itself not really fully sovereign over herself anymore.

There's definitely competing narratives to take from the Dutch and Belgian armies fighting together:

Is it proof that Flanders should be rejoined with the Netherlands, or proof that Belgium and the Netherlands can coexist?

Conscription is definitely the lightning rod for an overall debate on what the balance between the Federation, the Commonwealths, and the Mother Country should be.

Bascially the exact same situation, only even worse.

True but the only way it's ever going to work long term is it moving away from being British led and focused. To what extent that happens, the reaction to it from everyone and where the new balance lies is the huge issue at the heart of it all. But it certainly cannot carry on as an empire with an extreme bias towards the UK. Not with some of the other nations involved.

I modified it a little at the beginning but, ultimately, didn't give in to the arrogant little voice at the back of my head that thought I could improve on Churchill.

Always nice to have a quick reminder that this is a very anglo-bias AAR. Not that it's a bad thing, I enjoy it just as much for that fact, but British diplomacy towards Germany wasn't all to friendly in the leadup to the war either (here or IRL), so there is still a German side to this story to consider.

Which is why I said the second part of my statement. The binding of the overseas will to Britain itself and finding herself steered by that instead of the other way around will be the hardest pill to swallow, but it has to be swallowed if the Federation is to work

Indeed. No matter what the final balance between Federal and constituent country power ends up being, a successful Federation will need Britain to become 'just another' constituent part, even if its wealth, historical prestige, and population make it primus inter pares.

That's a disaster, no matter how you spin it. Occupying the Netherlands and Belgium, driving the British into the sea and wrecking Russia -

I change my assessment. The German High Command may know that they can't keep this up, but they may think they don't have to do so for very much longer.

The one hope is that the Americans get into action quickly and do well. The public will be reluctant to turn out an administration in wartime.

That is indeed their calculation. They know, on some level, that outright victory is impossible, but if they can achieve it in the East and be sufficiently difficult to take down in the West, Germany may yet emerge from this war with more than it started with.

The shaky Americans are not a good sign. I'm beginning to think that the Entente victory won't be quite as complete as I was expecting. If Germany can keep the game up long enough to make an American landing overly costly then they might just choose to go for an easier peace

The increasing importance of the Americans will only be highlighted in today's chapter.
 
PART FIVE
WORLD WAR






32
The Mediterranean


We have created a Mare Nostrum. Unfortunately, ‘nos’, in this case, includes the Americans.
John Jellicoe, April 12th, 1915


In the mid-war, the Mediterranean struggle was, naturally, dominated by the Italian and Spanish theatres. Not only did their land forces pose a threat to an already vulnerable France, but their navies, when acting as a joint force with 20 dreadnoughts, could theoretically go toe-to-toe with an Entente fleet. The retreat of the Royal Navy as they left Gibraltar was a post-Napoleonic nadir of sorts. For the first time in a century, the Mediterranean was something other than a British lake.

The question was whether the joint US-UK fleet provided by the arrival of the US Atlantic Fleet in late October 1911 should force the Straits of Gibraltar and set up base in Malta. From there, with 10 dreadnoughts provided by the Atlantic Fleet and 10 by the Mediterranean Squadron, it would be at parity with the Spanish-Italian joint fleet, and capable of tipping the balance in that sea. The problem was supply.

Transporting coal and oil to Malta keep the Joint Fleet supplied was a dangerous prospect. Italian and Spanish submarines had already begun operating as a way of denying the sea to the merchant navies of the Entente. Alexandria was considered as an alternate base, but the port was not fitted to hold a full fleet-in-being the way Malta’s was. Liberating the Mediterranean would require the kind of crushing victory over the Spanish-Italian fleet that allowed the Joint Fleet free reign of the sea; operating as anti-submarine hunters, escorting the merchant navy to defend it from submarines and any smaller Spanish-Italian squadrons attempting to get lucky, and generally terrorising the coasts of hostile powers.

Following the brutal draw at the Forties (even if it was a strategic victory), the Royal Navy’s appetite for going searching for a confrontation with the Regia Marina and Armada Española was low. The US Navy, though initially eager to grapple again with the Spanish, also reconsidered as a result of the Forties. The shipbuilding programme the Spanish had embarked upon after the installation of military absolutism meant that their adversary was now, at least theoretically, fielding similar ships, instead of obsolete half-wrecks the US Navy had faced in 1902.

The first attempt to solve the conundrum was to hope for a quick and decisive land war. German defeat would surely force a Spanish-Italian surrender. The bloodshed and hardening trench-lines over the winter of 1911-12 dashed this hope. As the focus in the western land war switched to knocking out Spain and Italy, the delay morphed into hoping for a quick Spanish surrender. With the Armada Española out of the equation, the joint fleet could easily force the Regia Marina into port for good. It was the surprising resilience of Spain, and the surprising effectiveness of the Pact assault on the Balkans, that finally forced a decision.

Following the fall of Vienna in July 1912, Italian forces and their Hungarian allies had been bearing down on Romania and Serbia. From their foothold around Istanbul, the Ottoman armies were also finding more luck in their attempt to regain Bulgaria than they had in their abortive assault on the Sinai. Though a brutally cold winter in 1912-13 had provided some respite, by spring 1913 it was becoming clear that, even if the Western Entente could not spare battalions or divisions, their Balkan allies needed a supply of materiel that Russia could no longer supply after the cutting of the Balkan Corridor.


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‘Ungentlemanly Warfare’: FIS officers, shortly after arrival in Greece, April 1913

Even going the long way around, via the Cape of Good Hope and through the Canal, would be exceedingly dangerous. Between the Canal and ports in Athens or the Peloponnese were the Turkish-held (though ethnically Greek) Dodecanese, and in particular the island of Crete. The audacious plan to take out this threat with minimal effort was the brainchild of the SIS and Churchill. It relied on the assumption that the inhabitants would feel little love for Ottoman rule.

On the British side, both operations would be spearheaded by the FIS. Ten officers arrived in Athens on 5 April 1913, having followed the coast of the Levant and weaved among the Dodecanese pretending to be fishermen. They spent the next month getting acquainted with the 1,000 Greek soldiers and their officers that would carry out the operation. On 10 May 1913, under cover of darkness, the FIS landed in an inlet, carrying more than their fair share of explosives each. Their purpose was simple; to take out the Turkish guns near Kolymvari that overlooked the beach the Greeks were to land on.

They had three days to destroy the guns, and it would have to be done on the night of the third day. Earlier, and the Turks would be alert to the possibility of imminent invasion, and so use their guns at the tip of the Rodopou peninsula to sink the arriving transports as they rounded Cape Spatha. Later, and the guns at Kolymvari would murder the Greeks as they landed.

At first glance, it would seem that the logical thing to do was to also destroy the guns on the peninsula as well. However, those guns would be important for using Crete to protect convoys from the Ottoman Navy that, while weak compared to that of any of the other naval powers’ in the Mediterranean, could certainly do damage to a group of supply ships with the minimal escort that could be spared for the Greek convoys. The hope was that darkness, and the sheer unexpected nature of an invasion with no preliminary bombardment, would allow the transports to sneak past the Rodopou guns.

In the end, the explosives went off just as the first transport hit the beach. The third gun was not destroyed, but the FIS operatives’ picking off of the gun crew’s stragglers from a higher vantage point ensured it remained unfired until Kolymvari had already been taken. The resulting collapse in Turkish rule outside of the main garrison outside Heraklion happened within days. Stashes of guns that had been smuggled in long before the war by Greek nationalists were unveiled, and the garrison was soon de facto outnumbered as the Greeks took to drilling the volunteers that had come forward since their landing. By 28 May, after an abortive attempt at breaking out of ‘Little Koules’ [1], the garrison surrendered, officially opening the way for a supply route that would dash from the Canal into the range of guns at Crete, and from there dash to Nafplion.


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The SS Canada is unloaded at Nafplion, October 1913

Though the ‘Mediterranean Dash’ saved the Greeks and Serbs during a renewed Pact offensive that summer, it was clear that it was untenable in a world where the Spanish-Italian fleet could decide, at any moment, to make cutting it off their primary goal. Even more untenably, a Mediterranean in which the Spanish-Italian fleet could operate with impunity was one in which there was a risk of it covering an amphibious strike at the Suez. The Ottomans were the closest power with ambitions for control of the Canal, and had attempted to take it by land, but the Italians had long been seen by the Admiralty as the more credible threat. Even with the Regia Marina being the largest force in the Mediterranean pre-war, control of the two entry points into the sea would be vital for any vision of a Mare Nostrum for the 20th Century.

When Spain did not surrender following the one-two punch in Portugal and Catalonia over the summer of 1913, the final hope that the Regia Marina could be forced into port without a fight (or at least the possibility of one) was given up on by the Admiralty. Another winter and spring of allowing the Spanish-Italian fleet free reign was bound to lead to them taking full advantage, especially as the deteriorating situation in Iberia seemed to put a more definitive timer on the fleet’s very existence. In addition to this, that same deterioration had put the Entente in a better position in the Mediterranean.

Most obviously, the lifting of the Siege of Gibraltar and the foundation of the Catalan Republic had reopened the Pillars of Hercules and offered alternative bases to Malta. The British therefore proposed the US-UK Joint Fleet set up shop in Barcelona, which it duly did in October 1913. Now there were two major fleets in the Mediterranean. Of course, the very fact that Barcelona was an option, but the Armada Española had not surrendered, was further proof that waiting for the Spanish-Italian fleet to disintegrate was not an option.

When the island of Malta was shelled for two days (10-11 November) that autumn, followed by an attack on a convoy on the Canal-Crete part of the dash four days later, it became clear that their enemy was trying to goad the Joint Fleet out. That both were at dreadnought parity, with 19 each [1], seemed to make sure that any confrontation would be a similar bloody draw to that achieved at the Forties. With the Spanish-Italian fleet’s days potentially numbered though, they were willing to take that chance, and with pressure building for amphibious operations that could avoid a repeat of the brutal crossing of the Pyrenees, the Joint Fleet was willing to take a shot at control of the sea.

The result was the Battle of the Malta Channel. On the night of 3-4 December, the Joint Fleet bombarded coastal emplacements in southern Sicily, and retreated to port, sallying forth over the next two days to repeat the bombardment. Each day, it returned to port slower, and by the third day practically halted in the middle of the Channel for two hours. On the fourth day, the enemy, as expected, showed up.

The result was a disaster for the Spanish, a brutal lesson for the Italians, and a famous victory for the Joint Fleet. The ships of the Armada Española, though formidable by the standards of anything that had come before the dreadnoughts, were maintained on a shoestring budget even before the war. After two years of sporadic and worsening supply from home ports, they were now reliant entirely on Italian help to stay afloat. Against British and American ships that were appropriately supplied with the correct tools and materials, and had been better ships from day one, they were paper tigers.


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HMS Chester, shortly after the Battle of the Malta Channel

Within an hour of the first exchange of fire, two Spanish dreadnoughts were sinking, and a third was experiencing a blaze that was to force its abandonment by the one hour and thirty minutes mark. The Italians fared much more evenly in their exchanges, but the Spanish turning out to be the liability they were had decided the battle already. The decision of Admiral Rodolfo Paolini to keep the engagement going for another hour and a half before ordering a withdrawal was puzzled over for years by military historians, until a diary from the day was discovered in effects of his personal aide upon the aide’s death in 1948.

Paolini had known the battle was over from the first sunken Spanish dreadnought, but also felt that, should the Regia Marina withdraw from the battle without putting up at least the semblance of a fight, the blow to the morale of the men under his command would render them ‘entirely incapable of fighting another day, no matter the circumstances’. Furthermore, Paolini did not think it would affect just the men who were on the ships that day, but the entire future of the Regia Marina.


For a navy to seek the battle; to invite it outright with the acts we have, and then to flee at the point of decision would destroy that navy forever. The lives of men might be saved for a day, but the precedent would be set that the navy does not fight. When the fight eventually found them, the example to follow would not be of men who fought against the odds, but who folded at the first sign of resistance. To retreat so would not merely have been to retreat that day, but to retreat from the Mediterranean forever.

Paolini’s force lost a dreadnought that day to his decision not to withdraw sooner, but it also cost the US Navy a ship. The Regia Marina could return to port saying it had gone toe-to-toe with the Royal Navy and their American allies.

The Battle of the Malta Channel was followed by a moment of silence in the Mediterranean. The Entente had proven itself a force in the area again, but the Regia Marina remained large enough to be a threat, even if it had been chastened by its experience on 7 December. The result was a wary circling of each other, with neither side attempting anything too audacious, yet also declining the opportunity to institute a similar status quo to that in the North Sea, where both sides stayed in port waiting to see if the other wanted to have a second go at all-out confrontation. Instead, they carried out coastal raids and short attack runs on each other’s convoys.


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Admiral Rodolfo Paolini, June 1915

The landings in Tuscany changed this. With the Joint Fleet setting up to cover the invasion’s supply lines, and the Regia Marina almost certain to attempt to cut them, a new confrontation was guaranteed. Paolini, aware that direct confrontation was likely to end poorly, chose to adopt a strategy of hit and run, running his ships as close into range as he dared, getting off as many shells as they could, and dashing back to the safety of the big guns at Naples. Though this strategy kept the Regia Marina from being sent to the bottom of the Mediterranean [2], it also failed to prevent supplies from making it from Marseilles to Viareggio.

The result was that the naval confrontation became essentially obsolete once the supply line down the French and Italian rivieras was opened all the way to Tuscany. Even if the Regia Marina were able to achieve a major victory, the Entente armies now poised to strike at Rome in 1915 would be supplied adequately to maintain a foothold, or even advance. The pattern thus returned to that following the Battle of the Malta Channel.

When Italian surrender turned to Civil War, Paolini pledged the Regia Marina to the Kingdom of Italy. The result was a fratricide in the port of Naples that saw four dreadnoughts defect to the Republic by leaving port with guns blazing and making for Venice on 8 April 1915. The Black Day of the Italian Navy cost the lives of more Italian sailors and crippled more Italian ships than the Battle of the Malta Channel and the month of hit and run action following the Tuscany landings.

For the Royal Navy, the war in the Mediterranean thus offered small, but symbolic victories. They were often drowned out in the popular consciousness by the ones on land in Spain and Italy or, more commonly, the sheer scale of the war on the Western Front, but they were nonetheless victories. In particular, the Battle of the Malta Channel, with its lopsided result, was a much-needed morale boost for a proud institution whose war up till then had been either the grinding and unglamorous strategic victory at the Forties, or the even less glamorous game of manoeuvre against the Spanish-Italian fleet they had finally faced, and beaten.

If there was a fly in the ointment, it was that it would not have been possible without the Americans. Whereas elsewhere, the rest of the Entente was merely cognisant of the fact that the Americans were likely to be needed before all was said and done, in the Mediterranean, there was proof that the world was shifting on its axis. Britain, once so indisputably the master of the seas that the Royal Navy could have taken on the combined navies of the entire Kaiser Pact and then some, would have had to choose between keeping the North Sea or the Mediterranean, were it not for the contribution of the United States.


[1] – The Spanish contributed six, having lost the Marques del Douro to, somewhat ironically, British action. The Italians had 13. The Mediterranean Fleet numbered nine ships with HMS Victoria still out of commission, while the US Atlantic Fleet’s 10-ship contingent was still fully operational.

[2] – Or at least most of it. On 4 September, the Conte di Cavour suffered an engine failure, and was caught up to by the HMS Resolute and USS Hamilton, which hammered the ship until it surrendered, but not before causing enough damage to the Resolute to force it back to the Clyde for a year.
 
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The world is definitely changing. After this war, no matter what, amercia will have reached the top of industrialised nations regarding production and infrastructure. They'll have fought across the world and been shown to be not just capable of being a great power but is already one of the greatest, without even really trying.

Amercian isolationism may well be the post war decision, but never again will the rest of the world be able to ignore Washington.

Saying that, the British have had a very good war so far, and been victorious pretty much on all their fronts except for the western front against Germany. That's really good going for a ww1 run.
 
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As much as it's nice that a ship surrendered, I doubt that any vessel would have done so. While it was in the vogue for sailing ships to strike their colors, there are precious few instances of ships larger than submarines having been captured. The closest we might come to that was the Hornet, which was sunk at close range by Japanese long lance torpedoes from their destroyers (I had heard an apocryphal story that the Japanese might have tried to take her under tow, but cannot find any source for that).
 
Even going the long way around, via the Cape of Good Hope and through the Canal, would be exceedingly dangerous. Between the Canal and ports in Athens or the Peloponnese were the Turkish-held (though ethnically Greek) Dodecanese, and in particular the island of Crete. The audacious plan to take out this threat with minimal effort was the brainchild of the SIS and Churchill. It relied on the assumption that the inhabitants would feel little love for Ottoman rule.

On the British side, both operations would be spearheaded by the FIS. Ten officers arrived in Athens on 5 April 1913, having followed the coast of the Levant and weaved among the Dodecanese pretending to be fishermen. They spent the next month getting acquainted with the 1,000 Greek soldiers and their officers that would carry out the operation. On 10 May 1913, under cover of darkness, the FIS landed in an inlet, carrying more than their fair share of explosives each. Their purpose was simple; to take out the Turkish guns near Kolymvari that overlooked the beach the Greeks were to land on.

They had three days to destroy the guns, and it would have to be done on the night of the third day. Earlier, and the Turks would be alert to the possibility of imminent invasion, and so use their guns at the tip of the Rodopou peninsula to sink the arriving transports as they rounded Cape Spatha. Later, and the guns at Kolymvari would murder the Greeks as they landed.

At first glance, it would seem that the logical thing to do was to also destroy the guns on the peninsula as well. However, those guns would be important for using Crete to protect convoys from the Ottoman Navy that, while weak compared to that of any of the other naval powers’ in the Mediterranean, could certainly do damage to a group of supply ships with the minimal escort that could be spared for the Greek convoys. The hope was that darkness, and the sheer unexpected nature of an invasion with no preliminary bombardment, would allow the transports to sneak past the Rodopou guns.

In the end, the explosives went off just as the first transport hit the beach. The third gun was not destroyed, but the FIS operatives’ picking off of the gun crew’s stragglers from a higher vantage point ensured it remained unfired until Kolymvari had already been taken. The resulting collapse in Turkish rule outside of the main garrison outside Heraklion happened within days. Stashes of guns that had been smuggled in long before the war by Greek nationalists were unveiled, and the garrison was soon de facto outnumbered as the Greeks took to drilling the volunteers that had come forward since their landing. By 28 May, after an abortive attempt at breaking out of ‘Little Koules’ [1], the garrison surrendered, officially opening the way for a supply route that would dash from the Canal into the range of guns at Crete, and from there dash to Nafplion.

Good stuff!

Paolini had known the battle was over from the first sunken Spanish dreadnought, but also felt that, should the Regia Marina withdraw from the battle without putting up at least the semblance of a fight, the blow to the morale of the men under his command would render them ‘entirely incapable of fighting another day, no matter the circumstances’. Furthermore, Paolini did not think it would affect just the men who were on the ships that day, but the entire future of the Regia Marina.

For a navy to seek the battle; to invite it outright with the acts we have, and then to flee at the point of decision would destroy that navy forever. The lives of men might be saved for a day, but the precedent would be set that the navy does not fight. When the fight eventually found them, the example to follow would not be of men who fought against the odds, but who folded at the first sign of resistance. To retreat so would not merely have been to retreat that day, but to retreat from the Mediterranean forever.
Paolini’s force lost a dreadnought that day to his decision not to withdraw sooner, but it also cost the US Navy a ship. The Regia Marina could return to port saying it had gone toe-to-toe with the Royal Navy and their American allies.

I do find it curious that our author doesn't offer any commentary on whether they believe Paolini to be correct in his assessment.
 
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We can put this naval battle in context if we look at comparable battles in our timeline.

The Battle of Lissa was a humiliating defeat for the Italian Navy. They had the better doctrine, the better guns, the better ships - and managed to lose due to command problems amounting to a collapse of leadership, while the Austrians won by the exercise of good leadership. Having the weaker force and expected to lose, Tegetthof decided to roll the dice and won big. Italian morale and leadership did not recover for decades. They were not effective in WW1 (see the Raid on Ancona), in part due to Austrian control of the Adriatic. So, yes - I think Paolini merely anticipates the sentiment of Admiral Cunningham, that it takes three years to build a ship and a century to build a tradition.

WW1 naval battles in our timeline show that capital ships could take a lt of pounding - see the reports of both fleets after Jutland - so Paolini might not have been gambling as much as we think. Good gunnery for that period achieved 3 to 5 percent hits for shells fired, and less at longer ranges. There would always be the option to launch a torpedo attack if the odds turned heavily against him or the Entente fleet pressed too close. Since the author does not say at what time of day the action took place it is also possible that Paolini was holding on until weather or twilight let him safely disengage.

Witness also the rot of the high Seas Fleet in the long years when it swung at anchor and the collapse of Russian civilian morale after Tsushima... Since he got away without serious losses, he made the right choice. Had he lost a significant part of his fleet - a bad choice.


Britain had abandoned the two-power standard for her navy long before WW1. The challenge from Germany had forced the RN to concentrate in the North Sea, and even then they were, at the start of WW1, hard-pressed to match German strength. The reason is that the Germans could pretty much pick their moment and have all ships ready to go, while the British, not knowing exactly when a sortie could come, had to keep a percentage of ships in dock for repair and maintenance.

So it is not at all inconceivable that Britain would be glad of American help. Politically, the more you get the Americans into action the less chance they'll go home before the war is over, and strategically the American ships have to be better than the Spanish and at least as good as the Italians. With TR as President, they'd better be.

Seaborne supply for Viareggio would still be essential. Not absolutely critical, but essential - railroads simply son't haul as much as ships, the rails and yards are more likely to be wrecked. It is at least as likely that Paolini had taken the measure of the situation on the ground and at sea and stopped when he realized he would not be making a difference.

Also, one reason for Italy joining the Entente in WW1 was her almost-total dependence on British coal... we have seen from WW2 what happens to navies short of fuel.
 
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Indeed. I feel like the Italians navy made the best of a bad situation here. The amercians did good, the British got their lake back, and the Spanish got crushed.

It's an unusual situation where almost everyone from both sides in the battle got at least something's approaching good result. Naturally, that also means everyone got something approaching a bad result too.

Yes the Italian navy lives again, and has gone toe to toe with the allied fleet. It's also lost its ally, and it's country.
The British got rid of the Spanish, after their country bascially collapsed, but still have not dealt with the Italian navy despite their country's being bascially collapsed.

The Amercians have shot to the top of naval prestige by fighting a successful battle alongside the Royal Navy against a modern European navy...but they aren't going to get much from this. Having such an action nails their fleet to the British for the rest of the conflict, and there's no chance of their naval influence expanding further than it already has because they have no bases in Europe, let alone the Mediterranean. All well and good saying they are an ascending naval power, which they are. But their reach is still mostly confined to the pacific, without at least some British or French help or permission. And that will not be changing post war, because even if Roosevelt does make bank on his acting on the world stage approach, I don't think he'll be able to convince anyone at the peace conference or at home that America needs to have a base in Europe (and thus be constantly tied to what happens there).

Really, the winners are the British. They got American cooperation, Italian defeat and Spanish obliteration. They got the med back, a naval landing in Italy, Crete and reinforced the Balkans. The other interesting note is the lack of French ships anywhere. What are they up to, and how will their navy face having little to do with the opening of their own back yard?
 
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Really, the winners are the British. They got American cooperation, Italian defeat and Spanish obliteration. They got the med back, a naval landing in Italy, Crete and reinforced the Balkans. The other interesting note is the lack of French ships anywhere. What are they up to, and how will their navy face having little to do with the opening of their own back yard?
With the situation on land being so dire for France (even before the war) and Brittany, the mayor French naval base in the north and the region with one of the strongest (military) naval traditions in France lost, I doubt France has a much larger navy than one needed to guard her coastline. Probably a grab-bunch of cruisers to protect her dotted out colonies, but not much more. (not to forget that Britain hold most of what "French West Africa" war IRL.
There's definitely competing narratives to take from the Dutch and Belgian armies fighting together:

Is it proof that Flanders should be rejoined with the Netherlands, or proof that Belgium and the Netherlands can coexist?

Conscription is definitely the lightning rod for an overall debate on what the balance between the Federation, the Commonwealths, and the Mother Country should be.
The seperate-ness was long confirmed by this point (the 1910's). Somewhere after the Treaty of London, either ex-king Willem I or his son Willem II held a celebration giving out honours, but it acted as a thanks and dismissal for the Belgian orangists for their efforts for the united kingdom. At this point the prevailing narrative was that Flanders and the Netherlands were seperated through a difference in national character, it's why Spain was able to reconquer Flanders but not the north. (It's present in both Belgicism and Calvinist-Dutch nationalism.) During the 20'ies Pieter Geyl would be the most prominent name I know of who criticized this academic narrative. I have no doubts that Belgium and the Netherlands would have warm relations post war (perhaps the Interbellum will see the construction of that Antwerp-Rhine connection decades earlier), but this is still Belgium in WWI with all her very unique issue's. Serving next to Dutch soldiers who speak Dutch to their officers instead of French would be galvanizing for the Front Movement
 
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I'm impressed by how well the Italians did, given the circumstances. It's a shame that the civil war ruined those efforts.
With Anglo-American domination of the seas, I expect that a blockade of Germany will be what forces them to surrender
 
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I would point out that, important as the French naval bases of Brest and La Rochelle may be, Toulon was at least as important.

Under the circumstances - defeat on land, pressing German threat, uncertain support from Allies - I believe the remaining rump of France would devalue the navy and put all its resources into the army. Ergo, no Marine Nationale ships larger than, perhaps, a cruiser.
 
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Having reread the whole aar again, I'm struck by the absence of Lord Kitchener. Did he just not rise to acclaim in various African wars? I feel that he was one of the few OTL figures who grasped what was going on in 1914, and knew what was coming.

His absence as war leader is rather keenly noted, both in terms of propaganda and in terms of good and far-sighted logistical management planning.
 
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Finally caught up. Not to got much to add that hasn’t already been said, but looking forward to seeing how the last couple of years play out – and just exactly how the Germans fall to pieces.

Also keeping half on eye on Russia… Time to get that massive revolutionary wave rolling?
 
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I return!

Work picked up late last year, and didn't really slow appreciably since. It didn't help that the chapters I needed to write themselves were on areas that I didn't have particuarly strong instincts on, so inspiration required a mental wracking of the brain that it was just difficult to find the energy for after a full work-day. However, over the course of these (oh, wow, eight!?) months, I have managed now to produce two chapters. The ones immediately after these are on subjects where I had ideas anyway, so hopefully it won't take another eight to write them.

The world is definitely changing. After this war, no matter what, amercia will have reached the top of industrialised nations regarding production and infrastructure. They'll have fought across the world and been shown to be not just capable of being a great power but is already one of the greatest, without even really trying.

Amercian isolationism may well be the post war decision, but never again will the rest of the world be able to ignore Washington.

Saying that, the British have had a very good war so far, and been victorious pretty much on all their fronts except for the western front against Germany. That's really good going for a ww1 run.

Yes, the British are having a good war in terms of ultimately coming out on top on the fronts they are engaged in. However, under the surface, the bill (both financial and human) is mounting.

As much as it's nice that a ship surrendered, I doubt that any vessel would have done so. While it was in the vogue for sailing ships to strike their colors, there are precious few instances of ships larger than submarines having been captured. The closest we might come to that was the Hornet, which was sunk at close range by Japanese long lance torpedoes from their destroyers (I had heard an apocryphal story that the Japanese might have tried to take her under tow, but cannot find any source for that).

As noted, naval warfare is not my forte, but we also had an actual slugfest in the North Sea ITTL that proved the resilience of dreadnoughts in horrifying fashion, so perhaps the Conte di Cavour was influenced by the knowledge that the hammering could indeed go on forever.

Good stuff!

I do find it curious that our author doesn't offer any commentary on whether they believe Paolini to be correct in his assessment.

Thanks!

In this case, it may be like commenting on the animal spirits of financial markets. It is simply impossible to know unless one gets to see the alternative, which the laws of space and time cannot provide to us.

We can put this naval battle in context if we look at comparable battles in our timeline.

The Battle of Lissa was a humiliating defeat for the Italian Navy. They had the better doctrine, the better guns, the better ships - and managed to lose due to command problems amounting to a collapse of leadership, while the Austrians won by the exercise of good leadership. Having the weaker force and expected to lose, Tegetthof decided to roll the dice and won big. Italian morale and leadership did not recover for decades. They were not effective in WW1 (see the Raid on Ancona), in part due to Austrian control of the Adriatic. So, yes - I think Paolini merely anticipates the sentiment of Admiral Cunningham, that it takes three years to build a ship and a century to build a tradition.

WW1 naval battles in our timeline show that capital ships could take a lt of pounding - see the reports of both fleets after Jutland - so Paolini might not have been gambling as much as we think. Good gunnery for that period achieved 3 to 5 percent hits for shells fired, and less at longer ranges. There would always be the option to launch a torpedo attack if the odds turned heavily against him or the Entente fleet pressed too close. Since the author does not say at what time of day the action took place it is also possible that Paolini was holding on until weather or twilight let him safely disengage.

Witness also the rot of the high Seas Fleet in the long years when it swung at anchor and the collapse of Russian civilian morale after Tsushima... Since he got away without serious losses, he made the right choice. Had he lost a significant part of his fleet - a bad choice.

Britain had abandoned the two-power standard for her navy long before WW1. The challenge from Germany had forced the RN to concentrate in the North Sea, and even then they were, at the start of WW1, hard-pressed to match German strength. The reason is that the Germans could pretty much pick their moment and have all ships ready to go, while the British, not knowing exactly when a sortie could come, had to keep a percentage of ships in dock for repair and maintenance.

So it is not at all inconceivable that Britain would be glad of American help. Politically, the more you get the Americans into action the less chance they'll go home before the war is over, and strategically the American ships have to be better than the Spanish and at least as good as the Italians. With TR as President, they'd better be.

Seaborne supply for Viareggio would still be essential. Not absolutely critical, but essential - railroads simply son't haul as much as ships, the rails and yards are more likely to be wrecked. It is at least as likely that Paolini had taken the measure of the situation on the ground and at sea and stopped when he realized he would not be making a difference.

Also, one reason for Italy joining the Entente in WW1 was her almost-total dependence on British coal... we have seen from WW2 what happens to navies short of fuel.

Getting the Americans more involved is, indeed, one of the lynchpins of British grand strategy as the war drags on. Pre-war, the US was a deterrent for Germany. Early war, they allowed for more aggressive prioritisation of Royal Navy resource by taking over in less important areas. Now, it is becoming clear that American resources and men may be necessary, not just for a clean victory, but for victory of any kind.

Therefore, each Anglo-American joint operation serves the grand strategy by actually getting Americans into Europe, and by increasing their buy-in (or, alternatively, engaging the sunk cost fallacy) with each contribution.

Indeed. I feel like the Italians navy made the best of a bad situation here. The amercians did good, the British got their lake back, and the Spanish got crushed.

It's an unusual situation where almost everyone from both sides in the battle got at least something's approaching good result. Naturally, that also means everyone got something approaching a bad result too.

Yes the Italian navy lives again, and has gone toe to toe with the allied fleet. It's also lost its ally, and it's country.
The British got rid of the Spanish, after their country bascially collapsed, but still have not dealt with the Italian navy despite their country's being bascially collapsed.

The Amercians have shot to the top of naval prestige by fighting a successful battle alongside the Royal Navy against a modern European navy...but they aren't going to get much from this. Having such an action nails their fleet to the British for the rest of the conflict, and there's no chance of their naval influence expanding further than it already has because they have no bases in Europe, let alone the Mediterranean. All well and good saying they are an ascending naval power, which they are. But their reach is still mostly confined to the pacific, without at least some British or French help or permission. And that will not be changing post war, because even if Roosevelt does make bank on his acting on the world stage approach, I don't think he'll be able to convince anyone at the peace conference or at home that America needs to have a base in Europe (and thus be constantly tied to what happens there).

Really, the winners are the British. They got American cooperation, Italian defeat and Spanish obliteration. They got the med back, a naval landing in Italy, Crete and reinforced the Balkans. The other interesting note is the lack of French ships anywhere. What are they up to, and how will their navy face having little to do with the opening of their own back yard?

Indeed. One of the issues the British will find post-war is that, having brought British influence to all these new frontiers with the help of the Americans, securing them in the peace will also require American support; support that may not be forthcoming.

With the situation on land being so dire for France (even before the war) and Brittany, the mayor French naval base in the north and the region with one of the strongest (military) naval traditions in France lost, I doubt France has a much larger navy than one needed to guard her coastline. Probably a grab-bunch of cruisers to protect her dotted out colonies, but not much more. (not to forget that Britain hold most of what "French West Africa" war IRL.

The seperate-ness was long confirmed by this point (the 1910's). Somewhere after the Treaty of London, either ex-king Willem I or his son Willem II held a celebration giving out honours, but it acted as a thanks and dismissal for the Belgian orangists for their efforts for the united kingdom. At this point the prevailing narrative was that Flanders and the Netherlands were seperated through a difference in national character, it's why Spain was able to reconquer Flanders but not the north. (It's present in both Belgicism and Calvinist-Dutch nationalism.) During the 20'ies Pieter Geyl would be the most prominent name I know of who criticized this academic narrative. I have no doubts that Belgium and the Netherlands would have warm relations post war (perhaps the Interbellum will see the construction of that Antwerp-Rhine connection decades earlier), but this is still Belgium in WWI with all her very unique issue's. Serving next to Dutch soldiers who speak Dutch to their officers instead of French would be galvanizing for the Front Movement

I don't know if I've said it explicitly enough before, but the mini-lessons your comments on the Belgian situation provide me are one of my favourite things about writing FAWHA. Not only are they helpful in forming ideas for what teh history of post-war western Europe will look like, they're jsut fascinating in their own right.

I'm impressed by how well the Italians did, given the circumstances. It's a shame that the civil war ruined those efforts.
With Anglo-American domination of the seas, I expect that a blockade of Germany will be what forces them to surrender

The blockade is indeed doing damage, but, as we will see in the chapter after today's, its efficacy is being maintained at a cost.

I would point out that, important as the French naval bases of Brest and La Rochelle may be, Toulon was at least as important.

Under the circumstances - defeat on land, pressing German threat, uncertain support from Allies - I believe the remaining rump of France would devalue the navy and put all its resources into the army. Ergo, no Marine Nationale ships larger than, perhaps, a cruiser.

All the comments on the French naval situation are basically correct. Faced with an existential threat on land, France has deprioritised the navy to the point that it was basically ignored as a potential contributor to allied war plans for the sea.

Having reread the whole aar again, I'm struck by the absence of Lord Kitchener. Did he just not rise to acclaim in various African wars? I feel that he was one of the few OTL figures who grasped what was going on in 1914, and knew what was coming.

His absence as war leader is rather keenly noted, both in terms of propaganda and in terms of good and far-sighted logistical management planning.

Kitchener's absence is not an intentional thing, so I will be thinking about how to bring him into proceedings (there are many disasters and escalations yet to come where he can emerge as the man of the hour).

Finally caught up. Not to got much to add that hasn’t already been said, but looking forward to seeing how the last couple of years play out – and just exactly how the Germans fall to pieces.

Also keeping half on eye on Russia… Time to get that massive revolutionary wave rolling?

Thanks! Looking forward to writing it.

The clock is ticking, and Act Three draws ever closer.
 
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Africa and the Middle East

As far as I am concerned, this front stretches from the mouth of the Saloum Delta on the Atlantic to Shahr Kord in the Persian mountains.
J. E. B. Seely, November 1st, 1911

Moving further away from Europe, the British experience was defined by attempts to close fronts down. On the one hand were Spain’s colonies, where small Spanish forces tied down a disproportionate number of Entente troops. On the other, the British were in the business of attempting to keep a front open in Persia, where Ottoman success in making it onto defensible positions on the plateau could free up significant forces for a renewed attempt on the Suez. It was reinforcing the units earmarked to defend the Suez that, in turn, made the swift closure of the fronts in Ethiopia and West Africa more important.

In West Africa, French forces had quickly occupied Spanish Senegal and the Spanish and Italian Sahara. British troops had fought a short campaign against General Hernández in Spanish Guinea, but subdued received his official surrender in January 1912, moving then to establish control of Spanish Mali to the north. In East Africa, the low-lying coast of Somalia was quickly occupied by the Kenya garrison and a host of irregulars. It was the Ethiopian front that proved seemingly impossible to close down, as General Francisco Cassola began his guerrilla campaign in earnest.

In May 1912, his East Africa garrison now reinforced by a division from South Africa, Brigadier General Brodie set off from French Djibouti on a course for Addis Ababa, presuming the Cassola would attempt to keep the colony’s administrative centre in Spanish hands. What the British got instead was consistent harassment on the way to a defenceless city, which surrendered immediately. Unwilling to make himself into a latter-day Napoleon, Brodie decided to relocate the bulk of his force to Adama, closer to the Awash River that provided him with his primary supply line.

With Cassola refusing to give battle over the course of the late-summer and autumn, save for disrupting supply up the Awash, Brodie was forced to engage in the business of attempting to subdue the whole of the country. With his limited numbers, the only available method of doing so was to set up small garrisons in population centres, occasionally going out on patrol to gather information or act on reported concentrations of Cassola’s men. By summer 1913, the War Office was becoming increasingly frustrated at this strategy’s seeming lack of results. Not only were there still two divisions tied up in Ethiopia that could have been used elsewhere but, by Brodie’s own admission, it was impossible to know if Cassola was suffering the hoped-for rate attrition that would – if not force a surrender – make him an irrelevance.

What the British were certain about was that, despite there being no outright rebellion against their presence, the co-operation of the local population was becoming increasingly reluctant. Brodie’s initial promise, that information and the elimination of Spanish troops in the area would lead to the disappearance of the British presence, had been repeatedly violated due to Cassola’s obvious counterstrategy of moving men to wherever had recently been ‘pacified’. Finally, in December 1913, even as the writing was appearing on the wall for the Spanish war effort, Cassola got overconfident.

Hoping to deal a major blow to Brodie’s entire effort from both a morale and strategy standpoint, Cassola attempted to outright capture Debre Markos, located on the main road up the Ethiopian plateau from Addis Ababa (and Adama). Success would mean the cutting of off supply to the garrisons at Debre Tabor, Bahir Dar, and Gondar further north. A sufficiently quick campaign to take advantage of this would allow the destruction of almost a third of Brodie’s strength before a quick melting back into the rough terrain of the plateau.


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British troops under fire near Debre Markos, January 1914

Cassola’s strategy was based on a calculation that he had sufficiently thinned the ranks and sapped the morale of an over-stretched occupying force for a rare concentration of his troops to be able to overwhelm them in a matter of days. In the event, the 500 men of the Debre Markos garrison were able to hold on for the six weeks it took to organise a counterattack in the area by consolidating the three garrisons Cassola had hoped to cut off, and rerouting a contingent of replacements to the area. The Battle of Debre Markos cost Cassola not only the initiative – as Brodie then launched a relentless ‘plateau campaign’ to root out his force – but the remaining core of his original professional force.

Finally, on 3 June, Cassola gave himself up to Brodie. All in all, the Ethiopian Campaign had cost the British 2,780 dead over the course of the two years since Brodie marched down the Awash. The losses for Cassola’s irregulars have been difficult to estimate, though what is clear is that combat loss constituted a minority of those dead. However, the most important statistic to keep in mind is that an estimated 50,000 Ethiopians were killed in those two years.

Whether it was the starvation that resulted from Cassola burning crops to force the British to hoard scarce food, or the British burning crops to deny them to Cassola, or shooting of suspected collaborators, both sides inflicted cruelty and death on the local population. They did this on a minor front of a war that had nothing to do with Ethiopia, and one that was only ever increasingly irrelevant. When Cassola surrendered, Spain had been out of the war for over two weeks. As Brodie and his men moved out to reinforce the Suez, leaving only a token garrison in Adama, they were merely an additional unit that could be used in a prospective push into Mesopotamia. The Suez had been sufficiently manned to prevent an Ottoman attack for over a year by then.

The bloodshed also did not end as the European powers moved out. Cassola had recruited his irregulars from across the colony. As they moved around the country, many of his men took the opportunity to settle tribal scores. While the British made an effort to prevent this evolving into outright sectarian warfare while they were still trying to suppress a Spanish force, the token garrison at Adama after Cassola’s surrender had neither the mandate nor the numbers to do so. Until after the war, when the Great Powers turned their eyes to management of what had been done, there would be, in practice, no central authority in Ethiopia, which descended into a low-level civil war, made all the worse by abandoned caches of weapons and ammunition left behind by Cassola’s guerrillas.


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T. E. Lawrence, better known as ‘Lawrence of Arabia’, 1917

If the British had carelessly created a vacuum to fill with revived ancient conflicts in Ethiopia, across the Red Sea, in Arabia, they would outright encourage it. The Ottoman Empire’s control of the Arabian Peninsula had waxed and waned in terms of its completeness since it had first asserted control in the early 16th Century. At the very beginning of the 20th, the Arab population and their leaders, concentrated on the Red Sea Coast, had enjoyed a fair amount of autonomy under the 1841 Constitution. The decisions of the Military Absolutist government after their ascension in the 1904 ‘March Restoration’ had placed ever-tighter limits on this autonomy.

The result was a peninsula already unhappy with the Ottoman government, now taxed, conscripted (or, at least, attempted to be), and threatened by British warships. The Foreign Office had identified Arab discontent as a potential buffer to attempted Ottoman incursions on Aden since before the war. When an early attempt at capturing the port stalled on the guns of British warships, it was issues of supplying the land force through a coast rife with civil disobedience that eventually turned the Ottoman would-be-invaders into a glorified guard post.

Convinced that a British promise of support for Arab ambitions (especially if accompanied by a promise of British guns) would turn disobedience into outright revolt, Thomas Edward ‘T.E.’ Lawrence, an officer in the 5th Lancers, convinced his superiors and the Foreign Office to allow a small expedition to make such a promise. Lawrence was not just convinced of his success by experiences in the peninsula as an archaeologist pre-war, but by the devastating effect the Lancers had had on the Ottoman forces on the Sinai in the first British-Ottoman engagements of the war. Even if British materiel support proved minimal, the Arabs, moving quickly across the sands, would be able to do far more than their fair share of damage to the Ottoman war effort.

Lawrence would be Britain’s point man in what became known as the Arab Revolt. Arm-in-arm with local leaders such as Sharif Hussein bin Ali of Mecca and his son Faisal, Lawrence would, beginning in spring 1913, wreak havoc on the Ottomans’ Arabian operation. By winter 1913-14, the Royal Navy were landing shipments of arms in Jeddah as easily as they were at Le Havre. The stunning success of the Revolt led Lawrence and Ali to overreach in 1914, however, as they moved against the main Ottoman railway in Transjordan. The result was a six-week campaign that cost the Arabs dearly, for only a short break in Ottoman rail supply.

A further failure of the 1914 push northwards was that, as a result of being driven at least partially by Ali’s ambitions for pan-Arabism [1], it had arguably aimed at the wrong end of the Middle Eastern theatre of war. British troops in the Sinai were not yet ready to move up the Palestinian coast, and the Ottomans were not planning an offensive at the time. In 1914, the point of contact in the Middle East were the lower lying lands between the Tigris and the Zagros mountains.


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British and Russian officers on the northern part of the Mesopotamian Front

On this front, British, Persian, and Russian troops faced the bulk of the Ottoman army. For the latter, aware they could not force the British out of Persia outright, the aim was to reach a defensible chain of mountain ridges. This would allow for a reduction of forces through a switch in posture, which would in turn free up the bulk of the army to make a second attempt at the Suez. It was the success of any such attempt that could deal a real blow to the Entente war effort.

For the defenders, the primary goal was to prevent the Ottomans reaching those ridges. In pursuit of this, they launched offensives and counteroffensives aimed at disrupting Ottoman attempts, hoping perhaps to reach as far as Basra if fortune favoured them. Capturing the port would fundamentally alter the balance of supply, allowing Entente shipments to dock there, instead of making the long and arduous trek through the mountainous terrain of Persia. The Ottomans, meanwhile, would be forced to haul supplies from Baghdad. This alone would offer any reinforced Entente army a straight shot up the Tigris and Euphrates.

At the time of Lawrence and Ali’s ill-fated first Transjordan campaign, however, the Ottomans were launching one of their most spirited offensives of the war. The capture of Izeh in the lower-lying mountains, the main target of the offensive, would complicate Entente supply lines to the extent that the heights of Kuh-e Garreh and Kuh-e Mafarn would almost certainly be impossible to hold. Though the town itself was not captured, the two forces ended up in a holding pattern, artillery on both sides of the valley, reduced now to a killing field. As the winter of 1914-15 set in, a holding pattern seemed to be the fate of the Middle Eastern theatre. As with so much, April 1915 would change everything.



[1] – Ambitions which Lawrence himself was sympathetic to from the outset, and by then had seemingly fully embraced. Records from the Foreign Office and Cairo HQ indicate that his superiors had already considered removing him from the theatre due to this, but ultimately decided that his relationship with Ali was too valuable to lose; a relationship that the intimacy and importance of had no doubt been played up by Lawrence himself.
 
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Great write up about the side shows of any true global conflict. Let's hope that there's a more rational ending which lowers the flames on the Middle East flashpoint for a few more decades...
 
Kitchener's absence is not an intentional thing, so I will be thinking about how to bring him into proceedings (there are many disasters and escalations yet to come where he can emerge as the man of the hour).
I was just beginning to re-read this work so am delighted to see new content. Kitchener being promised later on is great news, as I have been wondering about his role since my first comments.
Finally, on 3 June, Cassola gave himself up to Brodie. All in all, the Ethiopian Campaign had cost the British 2,780 dead over the course of the two years since Brodie marched down the Awash. The losses for Cassola’s irregulars have been difficult to estimate, though what is clear is that combat loss constituted a minority of those dead. However, the most important statistic to keep in mind is that an estimated 50,000 Ethiopians were killed in those two years.
Still better than the OTL mess of a war in East Africa. And on a smaller scale too.
Lawrence would be Britain’s point man in what became known as the Arab Revolt.
Fingers double crossed and hoping.
[1] – Ambitions which Lawrence himself was sympathetic to from the outset, and by then had seemingly fully embraced. Records from the Foreign Office and Cairo HQ indicate that his superiors had already considered removing him from the theatre due to this, but ultimately decided that his relationship with Ali was too valuable to lose; a relationship that the intimacy and importance of had no doubt been played up by Lawrence himself.
Really hope they actually try to help Mecca out here. Otherwise, they'll not only ruin the Middle East but inevitably get drawn into some really nasty conflicts down the road.
 
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