The Standoff at Carnegie Complex
Introduction
In an event that captivated the American public in the months leading up to the war, a group of anarchist insurgents seized the largest steel foundry on Concord Minor. The conflict proved to be more difficult to resolve than the American Colonial Army anticipated, thanks in part to the anarchists’ tactics and use of mechs. Their experiences in the extermination of this rebellious cell warned of how ill-prepared the American Army was for a modern war.
Setting the Stage
The 1920s were hard on the American economy, with soaring food prices amid the Famine preventing growth in the heartland, and shortages amongst the outer states in the Caribbean and Philippines. The factory jobs many struggling Americans took on had few benefits, with the average worker’s compensation equating to roughly two day’s pay, regardless of the injury in question. The barely existent accommodations often meant that any blue collar worker suffering an injury that took over a week to recover would often be forced into destitution, especially as the sole bread-winner for a family. In response to the growing issues with employment and starvation, hardship clauses for child labor were relaxed by the government, a move that not only doubled child mortality during the famine, but also failed to help feed families amid growing food costs. These young workers were simply wasting away on the factory floor, rather than at home.
Concord Minor was one of the only areas to be spared much of the effects of the famine, as the many environmental stressors killing Earthly harvests were not present on the new world. Concordians still faced massive inflation on goods coming from the homeworld, but local food was readily available so long as exports were moderated. Seeing the growing disparity between Concordians and Terrestrial humans, many large corporations invested heavily in aether industries, including the many branches of U.S. Steel. Director J.P. Morgan Jr. was quoted in 1921 as saying, “If this damnation scouring our beautiful country beneath our feet continues, we must ensure the stability of those above, even if it is only to return and pick up the pieces of our starving nation.” He said this now infamous quote at the announcement of a new industrial mega-complex some 170 miles outside of Merchant, Odyssia. The miles-wide compound, in addition to the company town that would soon sprout around it, were to be named Carnegie, after the late co-founder/titan of the steel industry. Andrew’s own daughter Margaret Carnegie was present at the groundbreaking ceremony the next month. It is said that she personally invested a large part of her late-father’s fortune to the speedy construction, and that she may have been a silent, unofficial partner in U.S. Steel’s Concordian expansion effort.
The first steel foundries at Carnegie opened in early 1922, with great fanfare provided for the many board members in attendance. The Complex started business with a full workforce, consisting of both a local body of floor laborers and an upper echelon of migrant supervisors from the heartland. Cultural differences immediately arose among the employees, with the members of management escaping the struggles of the famine often treating the seemingly “better off” Concordians harshly. Child laborers were not usually exempt from ill-tempers, especially as they often were harder to motivate than the adults. This hostile work environment resulted in many careless mistakes and workplace accidents, as workers being forced to overexert themselves often fell victim to the lack of safety precautions. It is often remarked to this day that the floor of the new factories were mixed of two parts cement, and one part blood.
Growing Tensions in the 1930s
In the mid-thirties, the campus and greater community at Carnegie covered three hundred thousand acres, rivaling many cities in land-area. The Concord Branch of U.S. Steel was responsible for over a third of colonial heavy industry, and additionally invested millions in other sectors. The branch also employed over six million Concordians, with at least 1 million employees working at Carnegie in each of its two shifts. The company itself is often credited with the recovery of the American economy after the devastation following the famine, though this is often done to divert attention from the many social programs passed amid the famine. This perspective also largely ignores the plight of the common Concordian, as the company's distribution of food surplus back to the American heartland hampered the colony’s growth.
What is striking about Carnegie as a location is the minimal changes that happened in the factories over its decade of operation. While it certainly grew in size and workforce, little was done to update safety and production protocols, and no funding was put to shielding locals living in the company town from the hazards of industrial waste. Randel's Pond, a popular lake for workers on break to swim in during the twenties, had turned into a brown cesspit full of garbage and chemical pollutants. Wages for floor workers had not improved since the first factory opened, burying the common laborer under the burdens of annual inflation. This crisis, combined with the already notorious hazardous conditions made Carnegie Complex a symbol of industrial rock-bottom, an occupation that served as an inescapable trap for the economically immobile.
One of these destitute laborers was Walter Seagrave, a vocal floor boss who started working at Carnegie after his father died in 1925. An anomaly in the hazardous conditions of the factories, Seagrave survived through his childhood working as a duct cleaner, someone who was in charge of scaling each factory’s ventilation system for maintenance. He later got a job managing a mechanized loader team, but was passed up for further promotion on multiple occasions. He resented the company for causing his life-long struggles, going as far as blaming his father’s death on the company’s habit of cutting corners. He participated in many attempts to unionize Carnegie, but the leaders of these organizations were often fired, beaten, and on occasion made to disappear. He wanted to send a message to the company, but feared the ramifications on his family if he directly opposed them.
Unfortunately for Walter Seagrave, further tragedy would befall him and his family anyway. On July 29th, 1936 a newer member of Seagrave’s operator team caused a large-scale work accident, causing a fire in Building 34. While all workers without protective gear were evacuated, the accident caused a substantial amount of company property damage, and pushed output beneath yield quotas for three days. Seagrave took responsibility for the incident, trying to protect the responsible coworker from the company’s ire. The move had the opposite effect, as U.S. Steel was aware Seagrave was on the other side of the complex at the time of the accident. Rather than commend the floor supervisor for protecting his workers, company management made an example of the team, firing them all for the mistake. Seagrave was outraged by the incident, and was forced off company property by private security. He was not even able to fully collect his belongings from his residence, as it was also property of U.S. Steel.
After his expulsion from Carnegie, Seagrave spiraled in increasingly erratic behavior, eventually pushing away his family. He started interacting with many disenfranchised groups on Concord Minor, including the Colonial Worker’s Caucus, and the Assiniboine Enfranchisement League. He additionally created a “support group” of former employees of Carnegie and the many other mega-complexes of the colony world. While the content of their meetings was not recorded, contemporary investigations suspect that it was here that Seagrave plotted the events of 1938. He was aware that the U.S. government would do little to curtail corporate privilege, so he found another path to be heard.
The Standoff
March 21st, 1938 at 9 A.M; several investors in U.S. Steel visited Carnegie Complex, evaluating company progress ahead of a planned expansion. The tour was being led by J.P. Morgan himself, who hoped to garner even more support for his beast of modern industry. When passing by the formerly burnt Building 34, the tour was ambushed by two dozen armed assailants, all disguised as common workers. The party was taken hostage, with onlookers both shocked and excited in equal measure. As the captors escorted the investors inside a nearby communications building, several other teams appeared across the expansive facilities at Carnegie, capturing hostages from management while simultaneously sabotaging company equipment and scaring off private security. Their initial numbers were unknown but over the course of the next thirty minutes thousands of disillusioned workers joined their cause, arming themselves with factory equipment, scavenged security weapons, and loader mechs. The mysterious criminal group had grown into a rebellious militia in under an hour.
The main group holding the investors hostage started a transmission over complex-wide communications at 10:24 A.M., forcing J.P. Morgan Jr. to read their statement aloud over the intercom. The manifesto decried how content the common man was to lick the boots of the corporate “great men”, the same men who would let them all die to not lose even a percentage of their wealth. After the speech was completed, the leader of the armed group revealed himself as Walter Seagrave, who then proceeded to drag his primary hostage down to a nearby foundry. At 11:01, Mr. Morgan was executed by Seagrave, thrown symbolically into a crucible of his own making. It is said that not a single working soul in Carnegie wept.
Seagrave was barely able to descend from the crucible before U.S. Steel’s private security flooded the area. They had taken their time to organize due to the sheer magnitude of the uprising, as the firm only consisted of 5000 personnel, far too few to engage the anarchists without a full mobilization. Efforts to organize were further slowed waiting for off duty officers to report in, with many showing up still wearing long johns. The two forces clashed at 11:08, after Seagrave rallied as many workers behind him as possible. After several minutes of violence, the security team started a retreat, realizing that their resolve for fighting for the corporation had limits, especially against a force battling for a greater cause. At their current numbers they might have been able to squash the workers, but the resulting carnage would result in very few walking away. The clash ended with three hundred total dead between them, with the rioting laborers achieving a narrow victory.
Seagrave’s army was gathering more strength following their victory, driving out the security to the outskirts of Carnegie. They managed to arm even more of their numbers with guns collected from the security team, as keys to the arsenal were found on some of the fallen. While the security forces had been understaffed, they had a prodigious stockpile of military grade weaponry, including thousands of rifles, pistols, and even heavy weapons such as machine guns. Supplemented by industrials tools that had offensive use, such as energy torches and plasma cutters, the Workers Army grew into a formidable force. As they prepared for a longer conflict, the Governor of Odyssia, Henry Thornton, was receiving word on the unfolding situation. The bulk of the colonial army was deployed overseas, participating in the annual joint exercise with The Holy Roman Empire’s own colonial reserve, and as a result could not be called on. Worried about widespread panic, he decided to keep the incident quiet, secretly deploying what colonial guard he had at his disposal to cordon off the perimeter of the factory. His hope was that he could starve out the rioters by blocking off supplies. His move would not only prove ineffective, but potentially made it worse.
Many sympathizers attempted to send food to their loved ones inside the complex, using their knowledge of the area to bypass the poorly manned border. After a week of consistent deliveries, one of their couriers was finally caught by a patrol. Rosalie Hatheway, a wife to one of the many rioters, was delivering food for her husband. When she reached for her basket, the guardsman who apprehended her fired, killing her instantly. The backlash was swift and severe, with many sympathizers rallying behind Seagrave’s cause in retaliation for the unreasonable death. All official negotiations ceased, as the group no longer felt a peaceful resolution would be honored. A few days later, the Worker’s Army retaliated with a hard strike against the surrounding guard patrols, overwhelming them with sheer numbers, which fanned out to flank the defensive line. Thornton’s blockade suffered hundreds of casualties, while the Carnegie occupation lost only 70. The blunder deeply rattled the Governor, but he continued to keep the situation quiet while he searched for another solution.
The occupation of Carnegie continued well into May before the bulk of the Colonial Army returned from the joint exercise. The tone at the event had soured slightly, as growing Franco-Imperial tensions left America in an awkward position. More pressingly the sudden cessation of U.S. Steel shipments raised concerns on earth, where the government was still being kept in the dark. Thornton was not able to fully keep the secret to other states on Concord Minor, whose reactions were a mix of ridicule and concern. Now that he had access to the planet's army, he planned a larger-scale crackdown on the occupation forces. His advisors were concerned this may result in the death of the remaining hostages, however they were unable to even confirm if they still lived at all. On June 1st, the army engaged Operation Convoy, a largely vehicle-focused assault on Carnegie. The plan was to use their armored superiority to cut off sections of the complex, trapping the rebels indoors while they cleared buildings one by one.
Unfortunately for the military, the Colonial Worker’s Caucus, who had aided Seagrave in preparation for the revolt, had a mole inside the governor’s office working as a staffer. The plan was leaked into Carnegie, where some of the more militantly minded members of the Worker’s Army were able to devise a counter strategy. The military was unaware of the maze of maintenance tunnels buried beneath the Complex, tunnels many of the former laborers were familiar with. They would lure the Army into clearing one building, while the bulk of their force would retreat into another. A small contingent would remain to draw their fire in the original building, while the rest maneuvered into a flanking position. This strategy would later be referred to as the Undertow Advance, and was a popular strategy repeated on many occasions in the summer of 1938. The strategy was even effective in application against tanks, as the M30A1’s employed by the Colonial Army were easily disabled or even flipped over by ambushes perpetrated by the loader mechs used in the factories. The governor’s plan had once more failed, highlighting the inadequacies left by a nation that had been at relative peace for 30 years. The Worker’s Army had superior knowledge of the region, morale, and available numbers, as estimates put them anywhere between 80,000 and 130,000 strong within Carnegie, with a million more sympathizers protesting in Odyssia. Meanwhile, Operation Convoy cost the Colonial Army nine thousand casualties, with at least 40 tanks lost or commandeered.
Enraged by the absurdity of the situation, Governor Thornton considered bombing the complex and washing his hands of the issue, but was reprimanded by U.S. Steel and other corporations who operated at Carnegie. One board member additionally leaked the news to the public, letting out not only the existence of the standoff, but also the reality of how dire it had gotten. Finally, after three months in the dark, the news of Carnegie finally reached the desk of President John Rockefeller Jr. on July 9th, who immediately ordered Thornton to report to earth to testify before congress. In the meantime, he commanded the mobilization of the military to Concord Minor, where they would wait on standby until the situation could be evaluated. After meeting before Congress, Henry Thornton was forced to resign for his terrible handling of the situation, and for hiding the truth from the federal government. He has since retired from public life.
“Drown them in Blood and Steel”
Rockefeller was aware of the dangers of a labor revolt of this size, pulling from his own history of corporate protests. He immediately ordered the imposition of martial law on Concord Minor, with the less competent Colonial Army handling policing while his own forces encircled the perimeter of Carnegie. By crushing the protestors supporting the rebels, he aimed to cut the flow of reinforcements. He then put General Douglas MacArthur in charge of the dismantling of Seagrave’s forces, as he had been a long-time proponent of military applications against civil unrest, and was eager to tackle the issue. His first command was a thorough land survey of the region, followed by a series of small, seemingly random incursions into Carnegie by a handful of squads. His hope was to find weak points in the worker’s defensive lines, but his efforts met heavy resistance. Two-thirds of his recon units were wiped out by the rebels, prompting him to respond with a larger incursion deep into the complex. He did this to attempt to force the enemy out in an open conflict, possibly even catching Seagrave. This engagement resulted in thousands dead on both sides, with an additional 600 casualties as his force retreated back out of the complex. The Worker’s Army continued to apply the Undertow Advance against smaller units deployed throughout, but with diminishing returns.
By early September, MacArthur’s occupation had significantly chipped away at the Worker’s Army, but still lacked a definitive victory to rattle their morale. What he did know was that since he arrived, their supplies must have been wearing thin, however as long as they had the terrain advantage he could not beat them without destroying Carnegie. He had devised a strategy to rout the enemy, but knew it would result in an extreme number of casualties for both armies. When presenting the plan to President Rockefeller, he was quoted as telling the general to “Drown them in blood and steel, uproot these upstarts with mighty damnation.” With a heavy storm system approaching, and his land surveys in hand, MacArthur initiated the maneuver. He commanded his engineer corps to divert the flow of the Commerce River, which runs along the perimeter of Carnegie. After two days of rain, the swelling river flooded the grounds of Carnegie with a deluge of water and debris. While the flooding resulted in few deaths, it managed to remove Seagrave’s number one advantage without causing irreparable damage to the complex, as the tunnels the rioting force used to sneak around were now under several feet of water.
On the morning of September 22nd, Douglas MacArthur launched a full-scale push into the concrete marshland, pushing towards the center where he assumed Seagrave was headquartered. The former industrial foreman was waiting for the army in the central plaza, positioned with 40,000 troops ready for open assault. The battle began at 10:57 A.M., and continued well into the night. Every time the U.S. Army gained the upper hand against the central forces, the workers would send in another flanking army from the outer reaches of the complex. Sometime near midnight, it was confirmed by troops on the front line that a man resembling the organizer Walter Seagrave was found dead in a stolen security technical. MacArthur capitalized on this by seizing the factory PA systems, announcing across the field that their leader was dead, hoping to reduce morale. By dawn, the central army had begun a retreat, regrouping with the scattered secondary forces throughout the complex. The rebellious group may not have been completely wiped out, but they would grow continually disorganized as the army pressed the siege. The Battle of Carnegie Plaza came at a heavy cost, with thousands of dead Americans floating among the streets of the complex, and likely just as many wounded. It was only a matter of time before the conflict resolved, the consequences were only just being felt.
The Aftermath
By October 3rd, it was confirmed that the majority of Carnegie had been cleared of potential resistance. U.S. Steel was immediately allowed to start clean-up and repair, hoping to get the beating heart of the war machine back online. Enough of the complex was cleared to resume production in early November, but unfortunately the damage caused both by Seagrave and MacArthur’s flood was extensive. The site would take another year to fully refurbish, and production would not return to pre-conflict numbers until early 1940. The American military stood as the biggest scapegoat in the aftermath of the crisis, as its shortcomings were laid bare to the public. While the cold approach of MacArthur got results, the army under his command consistently underperformed against the untrained mob they were suppressing. They had not faced direct combat in several decades, and while technology had developed rapidly in private sectors, these innovations did not get applied to the federal army. The idea that a private entity or even makeshift military could be at technological parity or greater than their main fighting forces greatly concerned them, and the increased lethality of modern weapons was shocking. It was ultimately decided the United States was not ready for a large-scale war against another great power. President Rockefeller passed an executive order in the wake of the brewing conflicts in Europe, giving a staggering cash injection to each branch of the federal military in order to quickly bring them up to date. Research was also ordered into the militarization of modern hardsuits, as even unarmed suits proved highly effective in the hands of the Worker’s Army. The conflict ultimately taught the nation many important lessons for the upcoming war, even if the cost was over a hundred thousand lives.
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