The Pact Enters the War
The Rise of the Communist International
The colonial holdings of France were left in turmoil as the revolution took hold in the homeland. Most colonial governors and military garrison commanders were staunch Bonapartists, as their stations relied on the machinations of the empire. It took some time for the Liberationist Purge to spread overseas to Africa and Canada. The situation in Indochina however was developing rapidly, thanks in large part to the struggle it had been facing for the past three years.
By June of 1938 The Affair in Indochina, as it was referred to internationally, had ground to a near standstill. Japan’s dedication to snuffing out Communist terrorism in East Asia had waned, especially as the war with Joseon expanded. Local party leader and revolutionary Nguyễn Tất Thành had evaded capture for years, and, for every rebel cell the task force shut down, another would surface, often sabotaging industrial holdings and Japanese bases in equal measure. The local Governor-General Jean-Paul Babineaux was ineffective at dealing with the open warzone in the northern jungles of his territory. He was under strict orders not to escalate the conflict to open war, but his forces often clashed with the Japanese as they entered populated areas. This situation was made worse when the “civilians” they were protecting often turned out to be revolutionaries in plain clothes.
When the news broke of the emperor’s execution, Governor Babineaux immediately started shipping money and materiel southward. Soldiers in smaller garrisons were recalled to Saigon, where he consolidated a proper standing army in case of large-scale attack. He had already been known to butt heads with Blum on politics and feared that the new government would attempt to take action if he was perceived as a threat. He wanted all available resources in one place so that he could attempt an escape if necessary, as the locals would quickly rally around the revolutionary cause if they had the backing of the new French president.
On August 27th, Babineaux’s fears came true. President Charbonnier announced that effective immediately Nguyễn Tất Thành’s criminal record was expunged, and he would be taking over responsibilities as Governor-General on September 1st. It appeared that pressure from the Liberation Party pushed Charbonnier to move faster than anticipated, and now his enemy was nominally in control of Indochina. Babineaux immediately called on his generals, launching a planned coup across all government offices still accessible to him in the south, replacing the regional system with a military junta overnight. That night at a meeting of his subordinate officers, Colonel Saloth Phem spoke out against this obvious effort to undermine his nation and declared his intent to resign from his post. Babineaux without hesitation grabbed his sidearm, shot Saloth in front of his war room, and then ordered his farm and family be burned. The move was shocking to his officers but was effective in keeping the French “loyalists” in line moving forward.
Nguyễn Tất Thành struggled to fit into his new role, largely thanks to the persistence of the new “President” Babineaux, who tried his best to incentivize the local populace to report his movements in exchange for hefty rewards. Given Thành’s almost mythical status, the locals often responded in an opposite way, making false reports to keep his movements a mystery. Even still, Thành was expected to operate in an official capacity without any official resources, so he had to find more clandestine means of wresting control from the junta. His guerilla fighters could easily outgun the colonial reserves after years of fighting the Japanese, and in reality, most of the fighting could be avoided if he could assert his authority. This led to a series of ambushes along supply lines, in which the newly legitimized Liberationists captured as many soldiers alive as possible, turning troops back into the hands of the sitting French government.
By the end of September, all French colonial troops north of Da Nang either supported the new Governor-General or were incarcerated in several garrisons converted to prisons. Remnants in the south were wracked with confusion as to which regime was in charge, with entire regiments breaking out into open brawls over political allegiances. One particularly bloody encounter occurred at a military base in Pleiku on September 19th, where the infighting devolved into a pitched battle with a 90% death toll among its soldiers. A Bonapartist lieutenant, who was in the minority among the troops, decided to crack down on his men by commandeering a tank, turning it against his former comrades. The ensuing massacre made global news, resulting in much blame-shifting on the new French regime that had caused this to happen.
Two Kings and an Emperor
The political situation in Europe following the Revolution was a chaotic scramble to identify friends from foes. Russia had quickly rallied behind the Holy Roman Emperor, declaring war on France on August 14th. Multiple voting members of the Nordic Union called for their entrance into the war, simultaneously supporting their French business partners and garnering vengeance on the nations that slighted them in the past. Their intentions were clear, but it would take time to follow the democratic process of achieving a majority vote in Kalmar. Poland and Italy were quite receptive to the French cause, however, they each had their own conflicts with the League of Five Emperors that prevented them from directly operating outside of their own theaters of war.
The Kingdom of Spain and The British Empire found themselves at odds with the French following the Grande Revolution, as they both fell victim to the wave of paranoia sweeping the new republic. In April, interim Prime Minister Philippe Pétain had fled from France to a private villa near Vigo, Spain. His departure was not via a formal invitation, however after his new residence was made public, many of his former allies fled as well. Spanish King Alfonso XIII made a formal declaration on June 13th, announcing that Spain would accept any French citizens suffering political persecution amid the Revolution, a decree that later became critically important when the Commissariat’s purges began. The reaction in France was one of pure outrage, stating that this was an obvious reach for power by the monarch of the Bourbon dynasty, the oldest enemy of the republic. In spite of the response, Spain continued to accept refugees, feeling their allies kept them safe from reprisal.
On August 1st, the Prince-Imperial Louis-Napoleon slipped out of the country, escorted by his mother Beatrice. Two days later, the young monarch-in-waiting was paraded through the streets of London, where he was formally welcomed by King Edward VIII. What the public had not seen was the nine hour period of detention at a nearby naval facility, where the military waited as the Lord-Protector’s representatives argued over how to handle the situation. It was obvious that welcoming the exiled prince could escalate to war, and they deduced it would be safer to turn him over to the revolutionaries. The duo never got to make their decision, as while they argued Vice-Admiral Kennedy-Purvis, who had been in charge of the base and guarding the foreign entourage, made a call to the Lord-Protector Stanley Baldwin directly.
Having been briefed on the situation, he found himself in disagreement with his subordinates and immediately ordered the dignitaries to be delivered into the protection of the King’s Guard. Baldwin was fully aware of the risk of war and welcomed it. He did not regard this unruly mob as a serious threat and found a potential war with them a fine opportunity to dismantle the French Empire while appearing justified. His only concern was that he could not immediately jump into an open conflict, as a steady escalation would allow more time for the military to prepare for mobilization. For now, he would simply allow for the situation to break down naturally, preparing for The British Empire’s triumphant entrance in secret.
Thanks to the temper of the Spanish King, Baldwin did not have to wait very long. Alfonso XIII, tired of the constant calls for the extradition of “traitors to the revolution”, made an off-the-cuff retort on October 19th:
“If the just and honorable President of France so wishes the return of his people, we would be happy to organize an exchange for the numerous legitimate Spaniards living in Valencia and Aragon.”
The quite blunt challenge to the revolutionaries was a rallying cry for nationalist movements in Spain, including the Iberian Unification Front. Whether or not his comments were intended to lionize the people, the next seven days saw many interest groups increase activity along the Franco-Spanish Border and inspired some government officials to make formal legislation proposals targeting Communism and similar anti-government beliefs. Eventually, as the Spanish public clamored for clarity on his statements, Alfonso was forced to respond. On October 26th, a special press conference was called in front of the Royal Alcázar of Seville. The king doubled down on his previous statements, declaring that French holdings on the Iberian Peninsula should be returned to Spain before any talks of exchanging hostages could begin. As absurd as a land exchange of this size seemed on the surface, Alfonso XIII was completely serious, hardened by the recent upheaval in the royal family’s approval.
The Fool of Europe
After the speech was made public overseas, Stanley Baldwin was said to have immediately called the Royal Palace in Spain, apparently furious over Alfonso’s declaration. He reportedly spent an hour lecturing the King over his brash move, explaining that plans were already in motion for the Pact’s involvement in the conflict down the line. Alfonso attempted to protest this treatment, as he was a monarch deserving of higher respect than the Lord Protector was granting him. Baldwin reportedly laughed at him for this retort, loud enough that aides in the room could hear it from the phone. The British Head-of-State clearly did not take him seriously, as he had repeatedly referred to him as “The Fool of Europe” on previous occasions. He plainly stated that as the King of Spain, Alfonso had no real say in the situation and that if he moved forward with his plans for France he would receive no help. Following the call, Alfonso entered a violent rage, petulantly trashing the room.
Over the length of his reign, Alfonso XIII developed an inferiority complex over his public standing. He had been mocked many times before for the collapse of his once great nation, and in the grand scheme of European politics, his opinion was often ignored in favor of what his British overlords and constitutional government desired. He saw Spain in a different light, as the last real monarchy in the Western world. Larger kingdoms had either reformed themselves out of existence or currently had empty thrones. As the son of the Bourbon and Hapsburg dynasties, and husband to a British princess, he felt it was his responsibility to preserve the divine right.
Of course, Lord Protector Baldwin knew this was likely going to happen, and allegedly reprimanded him specifically to force him to double down. While he was angry his original plan would no longer work, he needed Alfonso to commit to his crusade against France, as it would put him in a position to supply the Pact’s war efforts while his army prepared for a while longer. Spain could still take the blame for starting the war, and Britain would seem an unwilling participant.
King Alfonso XIII spent the next several days contacting other members of The Anglo-Japanese Pact, garnering support for his cause. He also gathered leaders of more radical organizations in his nation, including one General Francisco Franco. With Franco personally commanding a significant complement of soldiers, in conjunction with insurgencies from irregular nationalists, a serious initial push could be made to invade Aragon without a formal declaration. Franco would receive a formal pardon in the event of a failed maneuver, and he had everything to gain if he successfully routed the French. As the king’s chosen, he could rise higher in authority, especially if the monarchy was given more power in the months to come.
On November 5th, Franco’s army launched an invasion into French controlled territory, aiming for the regional capital of Zaragoza. No formal declaration was made, and initial French defensive efforts were quickly crushed. The government was left stunned by this action, as they scrambled to form a proper response. In the end they would fall in line behind their monarch, as the damage had already been done.
A War of Three Alliances
Two days after the Spanish strike in Aragon, Neo Byzantium and the Sultanate of Egypt declared war on France as well. The Sultan, Farouk I, desired an expansion westward to cut down the French colonies and immediately deployed troops for Tripoli. The Byzantines sent expeditionary forces into Tunisia and deployed a naval task force to block French efforts to supply their colonies. On November 16th, Japan also followed suit with a formal declaration, though they had been fighting France unofficially for some time. This declaration also coincided with the first formal draft on the aether colony of Ebisu. With millions of fresh young men now at service age, the war in Indochina could be expanded without straining the push against Joseon.
As the military operation in Indochina evolved into a full invasion, the Imperial Japanese Navy swarmed the South China Sea. The Southwest Area Fleet formed a heavy blockade around the coastline, attempting to not only cut off French supplies but also regulate all incoming trade in Southeast Asia. This move alarmed the U.S. Government, who were increasingly concerned about the safety of the Philippines. Moreover, as France was their ally, they could not simply sit by without sending supplies. The decision was made on November 29th to increase the U.S. fleet presence in the South China Sea, attempting to threaten the IJN to at least open an aid corridor into Indochina. For eight days war seemed imminent in the Pacific.
The arrival of the British Pacific Fleet, which had been harbored in Australia, relieved the pressure mounting on Japan. The Royal Navy would support the IJN in the event of American aggression, supporting the Japanese blockade. As neither English-speaking superpower was ready to unleash war yet, the two remained in a standoff near the Philippines. Instead, the two nations agreed to only participate in a passive role in the conflict, serving as benefactors in the wider conflict to “avoid” war. Military advisors with small security contingents were deployed across the Commonwealth and its allies, with Baldwin at first withholding this assistance to Spain. America followed suit with its own allies, sending advisors to France, Italy, and Poland, as well as engineers to aid in the deployment of American equipment. These same engineers eventually tutored local experts on how to modify the vehicles for their needs, inspiring potential regional innovations. The British and American militaries did everything they could to assist in the war effort while their native industries geared up for a full conflict. Both powers knew where the other’s preparedness was, and felt that given time they could emerge the victor. For now, they had an informal non-aggression pact, but tomorrow they could plunge the planet into an even fiercer, deadlier war.
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