What's the IC of other nations. Especialy the Otomans?
And could I have a closer screen of Balkans, with nations labeled. Please?
And could I have a closer screen of Balkans, with nations labeled. Please?
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I shall endeavour to get this info this evening. As usual I've not showed this AAR the love and attention it deserves.
However, an update will follow shortly!
Chapter 23
Boom, boom shake the room!
The Scottish military junta stood in the desert near Jerusalem, visibly wilting in the heat. Of their number the only one that didn't seem in the slightest bit bothered with the soaring temperatures was Supreme-President-For-Life General Alexander Dunkeld who stood proudly in the turret of an ST50 main battle tank with a pair of field glasses, eyes fixed on the rocket range several miles away. He glanced down at his fellow senior officers and grinned.
"Bloody hell - this is exciting, isn't it?"
He waved his hand in the direction of the range where a battery of Dunkeld class nuclear tipped ICBMs were slowly emerging from their silos, ready to shoot into the sky and shock some unsuspecting Ottoman Empire Imperial guardsmen who were massing on the border. Alexander grinned again.
"Ah - I can see them coming out of the ground now. Damn, but that's one impressive sight."
He turned to the rest of the sweat-sodden junta and tried to appear philosophical.
"Can you believe that the boffins tried to palm off these beauties as a 'deterrent'? Ha! Seriously! They're called nuclear WEAPONS for a reason!"
Turning his gaze back to the firing range his eyes took on a far away look.
"Do you know that wuss James Carmichael, the scientist that claimed to be 'Father of the Bomb'? Well, he has only gone and killed himself after he found out what we were going to do! I had my secretary send him some champagne and chocolates in celebration of the almighty can of whupass that we were about to open on the Ottoman Empire and even sent his wife some flowers and what does the ungrateful sod do? Top himself. Claimed that he was 'Armageddon’s architect' or some other pithy nonsense in the letter he wrote and then opened his wrists."
Alexander put down the field glasses and brightened.
"Still, we've got all his research notes so no great loss. The Inverness reactors are still trundling away merrily and churning out bombs on a monthly basis."
He shook his head.
"Silly sod. I was going to make him a Duke or something."
Suddenly the wind picked up and the assembled officers were showered with sand as, several miles away, the mighty rockets on the missiles ignited and propelled their deadly payload high into the sky. Alexander roared like a demented god and threw his hat into the air. The rest of the junta shuffled uncomfortably. In the war room it had seemed like a good idea to go along with General Dunkeld's plan, but in the cold (warm?) light of day, watching the missiles streak upwards into the atmosphere leaving nothing but rapidly dissipating vapour trails in their wake, the enormity of what they had sanctioned began to sink in.
Alexander broke their collective train of thought as he jumped down off of the tank and clapped Air Marshal Perry Keane on the back.
"Well, it's going to take about ten minutes for those babies to reach their targets. How about we have a picnic and settle down for the fireworks? I've got some champers on ice!"
He clapped his hands and two sweating orderlies appeared, lugging a massive hamper and cool box between them. As they started laying out the picnic on the bonnet of the tank Alexander opened a massive bottle of champagne, causing a few of the generals to visibly jump as he fired the cork high into the air. The orderlies passed glasses around and Alexander poured each of his cabinet members a healthy measure. He held his glass aloft, allowing the sun to blaze off of the Edinburgh crystal and grinned dementedly at the other officers.
"Gentlemen, to a long and bloody campaign!"
There were a few cheers and everyone drank. Alexander took a long swig before hurling his glass at the side of the tank where it shattered into dozens of tiny, glistening shards.
"Fucking hell but that tastes good!" he roared. "It tastes like victory!"
Chapter 24
I Am Become Death...
General Alexander Dunkeld relaxed into his deckchair; a huge, satisfied smile playing on his face. He snapped his fingers and held out a fat cigar to a nearby orderly who lit the end of it before stepping back behind the general's chair. With a slow, deliberate movement Alexander placed the monstrous cigar to his lips, dragged on it a couple of times before blowing out a massive waft of blueish smoke high into the air. He swirled a glass of whisky around in his other hand, the ice cubes clanking together cheerily, and grinned at the other Scottish officers sitting around him; all perched on similar deckchairs and looking decidedly uncomfortable in the sweltering heat of the Anatolian summer. Alexander clapped Air Marshal Perry Keane on the back.
"Well, that was a bloody good laugh, wasn't it?"
He chewed the end of his cigar before belching out another foul smelling burst of smoke.
"Who'd have thought the rotton old Ottoman Empire would have collapsed so quickly?"
There was a chorus of murmmered approval from all around. Alexander smiled again and offered round the box of cigars.
"Lot of chaps died of course, but these cigars - ding, dong - they're bloody good! Worth a few grunts dying for, eh? And what about that view? Surely that's worth spilling some blood for!"
He cast an arm over his head taking in the vast expanse of the Aegean coastline. As the sun set, sections of it could still be seen glowing a friendly green colour - the by-product of a recent unfortunate collision with a Scottish ICBM. Alexander jabbed the cigar pointedly.
"You know, the boffins tell me that the old green blobs will probably clear up in the next millenia or so."
He shrugged.
"Shame really - I think it's rather pretty, don't you?"
There was a series of non-committal grunts from the rest of the officers. Silence reigned for a few moments as all those assembled gazed at the setting sun, their palid skin being bathed in the soft green glow of the Aegean peninsula. Perry Keane broke the calm with a gentle cough.
"General Dunkeld?"
Alexander twitched in his chair.
"Uh huh."
"Er...something's just come to mind, old chap."
"Uh huh."
"Well, we're sitting here on the still-warm corpse of our mortal foe the Ottoman Empire, right?"
"Uh huh."
"And the Ottoman Empire was the only power in the world we believed could stand against us?"
"Uh huh."
"And...well...we've just beaten them utterly without so much as breaking a sweat..."
"Get to the point man!"
Perry flinched slightly and looked nervously at his feet.
"Well...er...with all opposition gone...what do we do now sir?"
There was a crushing silence that lasted for several moments. Nobody dared speak. A seabird let out a soft, lonely cry that cut cleanly through the night air. A gentle breeze brought with it the smell of salt water, ozone, charred meat and leaking oil from a wrecked Turkish battle fleet. Minutes passed. Eventually there was a creak from General Dunkeld's chair and he raised a hand.
"Ok - anyone can answer this. Do we still have nukes?"
There was a series of negative mutterings from the assembled officers and, although nobody could see his face in the darkness, they all knew Alexander was smiling. As the last of the light faded, the tip of the general's cigar flared briefly before it was stubbed out in the sand. He stood up and folded his arms.
"Well, I'm sure I'll come up with something to keep you lot busy. Until then, just relax and enjoy the view - I think we've earned it."
As they sat in silence, staring at the waves and listened to them lapping against the shoreline, all the officers were thinking the same thing - that Alexander's words were equally applicable to Scotland herself.
That, and that it was good to be at peace at last.
~ THE END ~
Oh. Hello. I see you there, after you hid from us for so long. Well done. Congrats on rolling up your immensely long and incredibly fun AAR. Though I must admit... <.< That Alexander (now he's distracted with horizon gazing) Eeee!
Glad you like (is that the right word?) him. His predecessor was a favourite in the CK section of this tale, so it seemed rude not to bring him back in another form.