Re: Blood and Iron

Chapter 825: Rump State

Following the diplomatic summit in Korea, Alaska officially declared its independence as a sovereign state. No longer bound by the United States as a territory, it officially held a referendum with several options on the ballot.

To the surprise of the world, outside of Berlin and Saint Petersburg, Alaska opted to “willfully” join the Russian Empire. Officially ending in the region’s annexation, and a permanent presence by the Russian Empire and its armed forces.

Most of the self-proclaimed nations within the United States mainland did not bat an eye at this. Few cared about the happenings in the far north, in a territory most never cared to know about.

But in Delaware, beneath the Earth, in Roosevelt’s bunker. He was terrified by the reports that came from across the Caribbean and from the other side of the Canadian border.

“So… the Germans have permanently parked themselves in our backyard. While the Russians have seized Alaska, and coerced that coward Ernest into their ploy…. When the American people realize that the wolves are at the gates, and the bears are at the back door. Will they ever come to their senses? Or will they continue with a suicidal revolution?”

General MacArthur said nothing. Not at first… He sat there stern, the lines across his face heavier, and more numerous than they had been a mere year ago.

He reached into his coat pocket and found a pack of cigarettes, with a single smoke left for him to ease his anxiety with.

The way it trembled between his fingers, despite his hands being still unnerved Roosevelt and his cabinet members.

As MacArthur let out a large plume of smoke from his lungs, a heavy sigh followed.

“The lines are holding, and we have begun to replace losses sustained during the war, and during the foolish expedition into the Rust Belt…. The rest of the country, however, seems adamant about tearing each other apart. I hear a man has declared himself the de facto warlord of the Great Basin out west.”

Roosevelt lifted an eyebrow in both incredulity and disdain.

“Warlord of the Great Basin… What in God’s name is happening west of the Rockies?”

McArthur took another long drag from his cigarette before continuing.

“It turns out low troop density, and vast open terrain allows for certain unique advantages towards civilian militias. The local governments in the region and what remained of their national guard stockpiles were chewed apart by trucks with machine guns, mortars, and auto cannons mounted in the back of their beds.”

Roosevelt stared at General MacArthur, suddenly overcome by feelings of fatigue and malaise upon hearing such news. It took all of his strength just to keep himself upright in his chair, as he forced himself to continue the conversation.

“You’re telling me that with a couple of trucks and heavy machine guns, these…. Marauders have taken over large swaths of the Great Basin desert and declared themselves independent?”

McArthur simply nodded his head, his voice betraying his own exhaustion.

“It would certainly seem that way….”

Such a dry and brutal response forced Roosevelt’s personal aide to intervene as he put a stop to the meeting.

“That will be all for now. The President thanks you for the updates, and all that you have done to stem the tide that seeks to overwhelm the United States. He needs a few moments to himself though… I hope you understand.”

McArthur rose from his seat, eying Roosevelt who seemed to be struggling just to breathe properly in his chair, performing a quick salute before departing. And once he was gone, the nearby physicians quickly attended to the president.

“Sir… Your condition is getting worse. I highly advise you begin delegating all responsibilities to the Vice President; at this rate, if you keep putting yourself under such stress, you won’t live to see the summer…..”

Roosevelt seemed to have gained control over his condition once more after the source of his anxiety had left. And quickly sighed in deep relief as he waved the doctor off of him.

“I’m fine, Reginald! It was just a bit to take in…. The absurdity of it all! What have we become? Have we really collapsed to such an extent that barbarian warlords on the steppes are now proclaiming themselves kings? At this point we are not the Byzantines; we are Soissons, and will survive just as long as they had, if not less.”

The analogy was grim enough to force both Roosevelt’s aide and his personal physician into a grim and somber silence.

Their enemies did not even need to invade the United States; they simply needed to sit by and ensure it tore itself apart.

Roosevelt weakly reached forward and grabbed his cup of coffee, drinking its bitter taste before placing the cup down. Coughing up the last bit of it that failed to go down smoothly before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“That damn bastard… He planned all of this… The invasions of Cuba and Alaska… They’re not a staging ground for an invasion of the mainland. They’re an intimidating presence. A constant reminder to the American people about the failures of their government. He intends to watch us burn the landscape to the ground, and fracture into microstates and warlordism. And there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

The aide stepped forward and helped Roosevelt wipe the last bit of coffee from his chin that he had failed to get on his own before stepping back to a respectable distance.

“Sir… I promise you… We will not let the Republic fall! Even if… the worst were to happen. We will continue your vision and ensure that the United States rises from the ashes like a phoenix, more powerful, virtuous, and graceful than ever before!”

A bitter smile formed across Roosevelt’s lips as he heard these vain, but comforting words. He reached up and patted the man on the shoulder.

“Thank you… I am sure that even after I am gone, the spirit of America will endure. Even if the coming days will be full of hardship, we, the American people will not surrender to the tyranny of kings and generals!”

Though Roosevelt spoke these words with all the certainty he could still muster within himself. He knew internally, deep down, even if on an unconscious level, that he was lying.