 |
| |
|
|
bassman
|
 |
near Seattle
Dec 2001
time: 21:22
|
|
This is the episode that started it all! 
"There is a great lesson to be learned from the defeat of the Chinese, the Egyptians, the Japanese, and the Persians. Any monarch will stand proud while he (or she - pity about Cleo, she was a beauty!) can throw company after company of troops into the fray, but threaten the city of the throne and the same monarch will be kissing your boots faster than you can rattle a sword!"
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi - Chronicles of Gandhi Kahn the Wise
Nehru, my Foreign advisor and Devon, my military advisor entered the audience hall together, never a good sign. "Yes," I sighed, "what is it?"
"Good news and bad news, Mahatma," began Nehru.
"I'll always take good news before bad," I answered. "Somehow that blunts the impact."
"The good news is that the Persians have finally sued for peace. Negotiations are under way and should be completed quickly."
"That is VERY good news. Too bad Xerxes chose not to respond to our earlier requests for peace; might have saved him countless scores of troops. Such a waste of life."
"True," mused Nehru, sadly. "Losing their only source of saltpeter deflated their bluster. It was horrible to watch the Persian armed forces reduced to centuries-old tactics."
"Ha! That was great!" cried Devon. "'Immortals,' my ass! And knights against tanks! Horseback and lance versus horsepower and steel armor - laughable! The best part was watching them run the gantlet of tanks trying to retake Bactra! They were practically dead before they even approached the city! I can't believe it took Xerxes so long to give it up!"
"They were fools to declare war in the first place," I grumbled. "Serves them right."
"I sense no compassion in you for the dead youth of Persia, my lord," intoned Nehru.
Ordinarily, having a foreign advisor that can see the other side is a benefit, but after four millennia of almost continuous war, I was feeling grumpy.
"None at all," I snapped, "when I think of the cavalry that took and held the beachheads at Grenoble. They died for a noble cause - to negate the Persian threat to peace. And now we finally have peace in our time, after so many centuries of war."
"Uhm," stammered the compassionate man. "About that peace..."
"Oh, yes," I replied. "You had some bad news."
"Yes, your Greatness."
"Well, out with it!"
"Mahatma, it seems that Catherine has watched our troops departing over the Eastern Ocean to fight in Persia and has decided to use that to her advantage. The Russians have declared war."
"Madness!" I cried.
"Perhaps," he replied, "but the challenge has been made."
"Devon," I asked, "how goes the troop upgrading program?"
He was practically gloating! "Very well, sire. All troops on the Russian border are now equipped as Infantry. I took the liberty of transferring some additional garrisons by train from the northern steppes. Those northern cities will only have ill-equipped militia remaining, but there seems to be little danger now that the Persian scorpion is back in his hole."
"How advanced are the Russians?"
They threw many Cossacks at us, and finally took Jaipur. It cost them dearly. It took us too long to take Novgorod to relieve the single company of infantry at Jaipur. We've heavily garrisoned Novgorod, and a new corps of tanks is already en route to push the Russians out of Jaipur. Barring a quick and major advance by Russian scientists, I can safely guarantee you at least recapture of Jaipur, plus Smolensk and Minsk."
"What are Cross Hacks?"
"Cossacks, Mahatma, cavalry troops, but very sturdy. Shouldn't be much more than target practice for our new tank crews, even if those crews are fresh out of basic training."
"A pity all the experienced ones are still in Little India. Two new cities, you say?"
"Maybe more, if we're lucky."
"I'd like some insurance on that. Are the Russians still dependant on saltpeter near Odessa?"
"I'm ahead of you, sire. The very first tank company out of combat training occupied the refining facility this morning."
"Very good. This may rate you another promotion."
"Thank you, sire. I serve the glory of India."
"Nehru, let me know when they come to their senses and sue for terms. Maybe we can finally have peace and start one of those 'Bemocracies" you keep talking about."
"DE-mocracy, sire," he corrected, not quite keeping his eyes from rolling. "I pray for that day to come."
"What's a De-mocracy, again?" asked Devon.
I could see Nehru dropping into his professor mode even as the question was asked.
"It's a government were all adult citizen's are involved in determining the fate of their country. Sometimes it's representative, where all adult people are counted for their decision and selected officials run the government in their name. Our empire has grown so large that sustaining war for any length of time severely affects the mood of the populace, making representative government extremely difficult. The efficiencies inherent in the system are undermined by civil unrest over the continuous wars. Too much time and resources are spent keeping the people happy."
"Bah, what good is being powerful if you can't bash some heads now and then?"
"Devon," I said, "you are the supreme warrior, but you would make a lousy administrator. Being able to negotiate a compromise is a valuable talent to possess."
Nehru chimed in. "Besides, with Persia smarting from the lost of a quarter of its empire, and once you have squashed Catherine's delusions of grandeur, there will no longer be enemies capable of challenging India."
"Somewhere, somehow," said Devon, "someone always wants to fight."
"Well," I said, standing (a trick to end meetings that I've documented in 'Seven Habits of Highly-Effective Monarchs'), "thanks-for-the-update, keep-me-informed, I'm-going-to-work-on-my-memoirs," I rushed, hoping they'd take the hint.
Devon did, executing a smart snap turn and marching out the way he came.
Nehru didn't. "There are many perfectly good histories, sire. Why one more?"
A worn and comfortable argument - I quoted my lines as I had many times before.
"I don't like they way they portray me. I always seem so - so - malevolent."
"It would help if you could resist annexing whole societies into the Greater Indian Empire."
"You know what I always say," and he joined the chant as he fled the room, defeated, "'any war worth fighting is a war worth winning.'"
Next: Minsk...
|
|
| |
|
|
|
bassman
|
|
near Seattle
Dec 2001
time: 21:22
|
|
From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Six
Minsk
The many buildings in Minsk provided excellent cover for Russian infantry. Bullets plinked against the tank's armored skin.
"Sounds like rain, doesn't it, sir?" asked the loader.
"Yes, it does," replied Xiao. "Let's shut off their spigot."
To the gunner, he called the coordinates of the building housing their attackers, as well as the shell designation to the loader.
"Ready," came the call.
"Fire!"
Through his periscope, Xiao saw the building front disintegrate. Shattered bricks and splintered timbers created a rain of their own, with dust and smoke forming the clouds. Xiao remote-triggered the turret machine gun to mop up the Russian infantry that survived the building's collapse.
Xiao was proud to be the highest-ranking Chino-Indian in the Army. His skill with artillery had brought him to the attention of his superior officers when India began recruiting experienced soldiers for the home tank corp. No one had expected an attack from Russia, the weakest of the three remaining world powers, but perhaps Catherine had gone mad, for she had declared war following a sneak attack on Jaipur. In a way, Xiao was grateful for the opportunity she had provided for his advancement.
A flash attracted his attention. Down the street, beside an upturned wagon - combustion-less Russia lagged far behind India in science - a Russian civilian was attempting to light a rag stuffed into a bottle of lantern oil. Xiao had seen the results of these 'Molotov cocktails'. Thrown against the tank, the bottle would burst, coating the armored surface with flaming oil, some of which could even pour into the tank's breathing vents. He had seen Indian corpses that had died that way. Being roasted inside a steel canister struck him as a horrible way to die.
As the flame caught and the rag began to blaze, bullets from the heavy caliber coaxial machine gun stitched through the wagon body and the rebel went down. The bottle broke as its owner fell, engulfing the thrower and the wooden wagon in oily flames.
Better him than me, thought Xiao, as he searched for a new target.
Targets were becoming harder to find. Novgorod had fallen to the Indians, followed quickly by the retaking of Jaipur. The Russians had battered their precious Cossacks against reinforced Indian Infantry, without effect. Denied access to saltpeter, those troops became impossible to replace. Smolensk had quickly fallen under the onslaught of mighty Indian tanks, and Minsk was proving just as easy.
A shell burst just in front of the tank, shrapnel spanging off the turret.
"Where did that come from?" yelled Xiao.
For a horrific moment, they were blinded by the smoke of the shell burst, but then the tank powered through the cloud.
"Dead ahead, eight hundred hasta!" shouted the driver, who peered through his own prism-protected viewing vent.
"High Explosive round. Fire when ready," shouted Xiao, to the loader and gunner.
The tank cannon roared again as another shell burst behind them. The Russian gun crew was too slow and had not adjusted for the tank's high speed. They did not live to learn from their lesson.
The driver had to slow to edge around the ruined gun in the narrow street. As the heavy tank crashed over the artillery trail, Xiao grinned. It had been only a short time before when he would have been assigned to such a gun. He much preferred this mobile method of war.
The road opened onto the town center of Minsk, access blocked by a pile of overturned wagons. Xiao's tank crashed straight through the wagons, smashing them into splinters. The scores of tanks behind him would have clear sailing.
A line of Russian infantry stood in front of the government buildings that were the focus of the square. A flash of white caught his eye. Another 'Cocktail?' No!
"Hold your fire," called Xiao, halting his own squeeze of the machine gun trigger. "Stop the tank."
As the tank ground to a halt, Xiao threw open the turret hatch. A Russian soldier -- probably an officer to judge by his ornate uniform - approached with a white rag clutched in his upraised fist.
"You have won," called the officer, in accented Hindi. "We to you surrender Minsk."
"Accepted," called Xiao, trying not to contain his joy. "Lay down your arms."
"It shall be as you say."
Xiao allowed himself a grin as he called in a report to his commander - radio had to be the best invention thus far. Waiting to be connected, he thought about the war.
With Minsk fallen, Russia had lost a third of its dwindling empire. Maybe they'd be more reasonable when GIE envoys called on their Russian counterparts. While Xiao had grimly enjoyed manning his mobile 'armored cannon', he still longed for the world of entertainment. If Catherine would but end this war, there were no sizable opponents remaining to challenge India. A people at peace might enjoy his much improved juggling skills.
"General Samarjit speaking."
"Lieutenant Zhi here. Minsk has fallen."
"Excellent. Maintain your position until relieved by occupation forces," said the General, though his voice was tinny in the headphones. "By the way, Catherine has accepted our envoys. If she agrees to their terms, the war will be over."
"Thanks for the information, sir. I'll inform the rest of my crew."
"I'll expect a full report once you're relieved, Xiao. Over and out."
The General knew him by name. This was news indeed! Maybe he'd better reconsider his career choices.
Though he thought it difficult, Xiao's grin became even wider.
Next: New India...
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
|
bassman
|
|
near Seattle
Dec 2001
time: 21:22
|
|
From the Big Book of Indian War Stories, Volume Six
New India
Vidycharan and Frieda emerged from the gloom of the movie theater and paused, letting their eyes adjust to the bright lights of the city.
"The Akbar?" asked Vidycharan.
"Please," replied Frieda. "I'm starting to acquire a taste for Indian food.
"Bah! The Akbar's curry is nothing compared to my mother's. Just wait 'til you try it! It will light a fire in your mouth."
She looked at him oddly, and then smiled a secret smile. He knew he'd revealed too much, but inwardly shrugged. Too late to pull back words once said.
They turned to walk down the street, arm in arm.
Suddenly, the scene turned to bedlam. People came running out of nearly every building on the street. Horns were tooting, sirens wailing, and the gathering crowds seemed to be trying to shout and whoop and cry, all at the same time.
Vidycharan grabbed a running passerby. "Was ist es? Was ist geschehen?"
Noticing his atrocious attempt at German, the man grinned widely and replied in equally broken Hindi, "Russia is surrendered. Victory! Peace!"
Vidycharan stared at the man, stunned. For the first time in a very long while, India would be completely at peace. He turned to Frieda, her eyes shinning in the streetlights, and scooped her into a tight embrace, bending her over backwards in a prolonged, enjoyable kiss of joy. Somewhere, a light flashed, or maybe it was lightning, or just his imagination.
They were not the only couple to be embracing in the street. Dozens were locked in similar pursuits.
As he broke the kiss, Vidycharan felt a slap on his back. "Give'r one for me," shouted the man rushing by.
People began to dance and sing in the street. No traffic was moving. Cars stood abandoned. Several times complete strangers stopped to hug Vidycharan or Frieda, or to shake their hands, or clap them on the back. Nearly everyone wore wide grins.
The happy couple joined a crowd gathering around an electronics store. The store had erected speakers on their storefront to advertise commercial radios, a technology that was just beginning to move from military applications to civilian ones. From the speaker emerged the voice of Gandhi, speaking half a world away.
"This is a solemn but a glorious hour," he declared. "General Samarjit informs me that forces of Russia have surrendered. The flags of freedom fly over all the world."
"I commend all soldiers who have fought bravely and steadfastly, working towards this day of peace. We people of the GIE owe so much to these brave men and women."
He continued, "For this victory, we join in offering our thanks to the providence which has guided and sustained us through the dark days of adversity. May we be equally guided in the days of reconstruction and recovery that lie ahead."
The storeowner appeared in the shop window and was cheered by the crowd. He grinned and placed a hand-lettered sign in the window: CLOSED FOR PEACE.
They never did make it to the restaurant. Everyone was be celebrating. The whole world seemed to be crazy with thousands of people crowding the streets, hugging, dancing, singing, and sharing in celebratory drinks. Drinking establishments seemed to be the only shops open, and those quickly ran dry.
The city seemed to blur. At one point, Vidycharan remembered being lifted to the shoulders of several men and paraded up and down the street, along with many other Indian soldiers. Somehow, he managed to find Frieda again after the impromptu procession, or she him, and they ended up holding hands and singing around one of the many bonfires that had sprung up in the night. Eventually, they slipped off to find some privacy in which to create their own brand of fire.
As he learned later, the scene was repeated all around the world, even in some of the cities of India's former opponents. Everywhere, people celebrated the end of war, with any luck for all time. With India, being the unequalled superpower of the world, there was hope that a "Pax Indiana" would prevail.
In the governmental palaces in Moscow and Persopolis, no doubt angry minds worked feverishly to lay evil plans of disrupting the peace and regaining prestige lost to India over millennia, but the very tools of war had been ripped from their grasp. The two lesser powers lacked the offensive might to mount any sort of attack and they knew it. India's hegemony over the world was assured.
Next: More Gandhi Memoirs...
|
|
| |
|
|
|
bassman
|
|
near Seattle
Dec 2001
time: 21:22
|
|
"Well, that's the history of my reign with all the naughty bits left out. In spite of over five millennia of near-constant war, India has prospered, and stands on the crest of greatness. I know history will be kind to me because, as I always tell Nehru, 'the victor gets to write the history books.'"
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi - Chronicles of Gandhi Kahn the Wise
The following eulogy was delivered in Delhi by President Jawahawlal Nehru at the state funeral of Gandhi Kahn the Wise:
"Friends, Guests, Countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to praise Gandhi before we bury him. I cannot let his passing from this mortal stage go unremarked."
"He was my friend, faithful and just to me. Some say he was ambitious, that he sought to crush the world under his sandaled heel."
"He brought many cities under his rule whose prosperity filled the general coffers. Did this in Gandhi seem ambitious?"
"When the poor have cried, Gandhi has wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:"
"Gandhi understood, better than most, the Italian proverb: Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box. His quest was not for his own glory, but for the glory of his people."
"Rather than through ambition, Gandhi was moved through his love for his people. During the lying-in-state, you have returned that love as you did throughout his long life. Some have begged for a hair of him for memory, promising to mention it within their wills, bequeathing it as a rich legacy unto their issue."
"His love continues after his death, for here is a parchment with the seal of Gandhi, 'tis his will: to every citizen, 200 gold pieces. Moreover, he has left you all his walks, his private arbors and new-planted orchards --- he has left them all to you."
"Here was a Gandhi! When comes another?"
"It is fitting that Gandhi's life force passed peacefully from this world on the day when we celebrated the 20th anniversary of the founding of the United Indian Democratic Republic. For without the guidance of The Wise One, we would certainly never have seen such a celebration."
"It is with great pleasure that I announce a new honor to be attributed to our founding day, a day already doubly honored."
"As you all know, the envoys of the Russian and Persian Empires have come to our great land in preparation for this ceremony. We have allowed them free access to all citizens and they have witnessed the boundless opportunities available to even the poorest member of the UIDR. They have seen the programs for education, health care and enterprise. They have examined the temples, cathedral, libraries, universities, and coliseums that make life in the UIDR so happy for all of us. They have visited our many Wonders of the World. Because of this, their hearts have burned for their own citizens to share in our bounty."
"Therefore, they have agreed, in principle, to join the UIDR. On our next Celebration Day, the citizens of those two nations will join with ours to form the United World Democratic Republic. Next year and every year after, our anniversary celebration shall be thrice blessed - as the anniversary of our founding, as the founding of the United World Democratic Republic, and as the date of passing from this plane by our founder, Gandhi Kahn the Wise."
|
|
| |
|
| |
All times are GMT. The time now is 05:22.
Apolyton Time is 00:22. |
top of page
|
|
|
Forum Rules:
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts
|
HTML code is ON
vB code is ON
Smilies are ON
[IMG] code is ON
|
|
|
|
|
|
10-12-2002 23:10
|