The Red White & Blue

by Harry Kellogg III

  Stalin pre-empted Brown’s return by not only subverting the existing labor movements in Europe but by invading as well. He fought a hard fight to get himself appointed once more to the board. He had garnered a reputation among American conservatives of being a commie. At the same time, Brown was being seen as an enemy of the communistic cause. He was a vehement anti-communist as his brief foray into France had demonstrated where he battled the former French Resistance fighters for control of a number of labor unions.

  When the invasion came, Brown was a marked man and a number of attempts on his life by former Resistance members occurred. The threats to his life had been the most convincing argument that swayed President Truman to once again appoint him to the War Production Board as the labor representative. When World War Two ended, the War Production Board had quickly switched to the Civilian Production Administration and most production restrictions were lifted. After the Soviet attack, the WPB was reinstated to make sure resources matched up with the needs of the armed force’s.

  Despite the cowardly sneak attack by the Soviets, the American public was not as outraged compared to the aftermath of Pearl Harbor despite many more lost lives. Part of the apathy may have been racism or war weariness, but the bottom line was that the initial scrap metal drives and donations campaigns garnered a fraction of what was needed to defeat the USSR.

  Luckily, much of what was needed for the spring offensive had already been produced. The materials were now on their way back from the Pacific area where they originally had been sent for the invasion of Japan. Thousands of tons of supplies in the form of K-rations, bullets, bombs, and all the implements of destruction necessary to bring Stalin to his knees were being gathered in various places all over the world. The most valuable being the amphibious invasion craft and transports that would be used to cut the current Soviet Union into digestible parts. To take on the USSR as a whole would have required more than the US people were willing to pay in both blood and money.

  It would be suicide to try and slog our way from the Pyrenees to the factories hidden beyond the Urals. We would bleed to death long before we even got to Moscow. It would take another thousand miles to reach the real goal of Soviets production facilities. Brown knew that nearly ninety percent of the secret factory locations were unknown to NATO.

  It appeared that the US was not going to restart our nuclear bomb program once again. The US nuclear program had been put on hold due to a number of accidents and Soviet sabotage. The accidental explosion of the easier to produce Mark I Thin Man bomb in front of the world’s press had been the last straw for the American public, and more importantly the President. Add in the frequently rumored polonium poisoning of 94% of our nuclear scientists, their families and friends, the US appetite for all things nuclear had all but disappeared.

  For now, this war would be won by soldiers on the ground and not by planes dropping nuclear bombs. Frontal assault on fortress USSR was not an option either, as the Germans and French before them found out. The NATO plan was solid and based on the premise that when a nation loses its army, it surrenders to the opposition. No amount of civilian casualties or destruction of infrastructure seems to matter. If a dictator has an army in the field he will fight on until that army is destroyed.

  Erving Brown saw his job as keeping that goal in mind. He was determined to see that America would not once again bomb innocent men, women and children. Instead, he would concentrate on the elimination of the enemy’s[13] armies and leadership. The destruction of large portions of Germany and Japan along with their civilian population had not brought either dictatorship to its end. The destruction of their field armies was the key and that was the mission of the WPB.

  Brown was determined to see that the kinds of weapons needed to isolate and starve the Soviet armies reached our military leaders. Not more bombers destined too indiscriminately, and in the end uselessly, bomb enemy cities. America was to make the weapons needed to force the enemy’s armies to surrender in the field. He wanted the soldiers to be so devoid of hope that they peacefully lay down their arms.

  Even the most fanatical enemy could be brought to this realization as demonstrated by MacArthur in the Pacific. The Japanese troops who, when confronted with overwhelming odds, committed what can only be called suicide as they charged our machine guns with swords on island after island. These fanatical troops had one thing in common, and that was there was an enemy to directly confront.

  On the islands that MacArthur by-passed even more fanatical troops surrender peacefully when they were left to starve. The great Japanese fortified islands of Rabaul and Truk were never directly invaded. Hundreds of thousands of isolated, fanatical Japanese troops had no way of closing with their enemies. Eventually, they surrendered peacefully.

  This same outcome was the basis of the strategy that MacArthur had proposed and Truman adopted before the general’s death. An almost bloodless victory was a mandate that Irving Brown was determined to see fulfilled through his work on the War Production Board.

  He would fight with all his might to curb the call for more strategic bombers. Bombers that were and would be destroyed for no gain. Bombers that had already proven to have had a marginal effect on the outcome of World War Two.

  Payback is a Bitch

  Marvin peered around the tree trunk and was more than surprised with what he saw coming at him at about 13 knots. Hundreds of invasion craft of all shapes and sizes were headed straight at his campsite. Marvin was out in the middle of nowhere in Maine. Nowhere was Arcadia National Park. The park was located about two-thirds up the Maine Coast on an island that stuck out into the Atlantic forty miles SSE of Bangor. He had barely heard some noises a few hours earlier but had ignored them to get some more sleep. What his sleepy eyes observed probably hadn’t happened since D-Day.

  What he assumed was the whole United States navy was invading the park. Almost as far as the eye could see north and south invasion craft, were pouring out of larger ships with some carrying what looked like infantry and others that were carrying tanks. He ran back to his tent and got his binoculars and looked to the north and saw guys climbing sheer cliffs and throwing smoke grenades and making a racket with what he assumed were blanks.

  Others were landing on the beach to his south and running forward and the classic style seen in many a movie about World War Two, “Sands of Iwo Jima” and all that. Waves of squared off boats were driving up on the shore from the water and their bows becoming ramps ejecting squads of men running on the sand for all they were worth. More smoke grenades and blanks were shooting at imaginary enemies, that he assumed were Reds who erupted from in front of the charging troops.

  Quite a show for a Saturday morning in what was supposed to be a wilderness. Marvin had snuck in last night after the normal business hours of the ranger station. It was a long drive from Boston where he lived and worked. He knew he was supposed to let the rangers know he was in the park and approximately where he was going to camp. He had figured that he would do it in the morning.

  Marvin was taking a week off after writing a series of articles for the New York Times on how the US armed forces had been caught napping by the commies. It had not won him a Pulitzer, but it had managed to piss off the Pentagon. And now here the US military was, once again in his cross hairs.

  He supposed this was a practice run for the real deal. But where were these idiots going to invade that had a similar terrain to Northern Maine? Norway came to mind but how stupid would that be. Why would you invade Norway on your way to Moscow?

  No need to speculate, he’d get it out of one of these grunts when he finally reached the beach, or should he go for the guys climbing up the cliffs? Soon the choice was made for him as he was coming back out of his tent after putting on his pants. He was grabbed from behind and roughly put on the ground with a knife to his throat and a GI pinning him down.

  No need to go into the conversation between Marvin and his captors, because there wasn’t any. They gagged him and pushed h
im down the trail that led to the beach area. He knew it would do no good to protest, so he just went along with the abuse until he could talk to an officer of some kind.

  Then came the blindfold. Great he thought…what’s next, a firing squad? His press credentials were in his pants. As soon as these goons took his gag off, he would inform them that they were dealing with a member of the Fourth Estate, and a reporter for the New York Times to boot. He was roughly guided to a chair and hand cuffed there. Then, they went through his pockets. Not a word was spoken but, when one of the GIs fished out his wallet, there was a pause. He assumed they were reading his credentials and this would all be over soon. They guy just whistled the equivalent of “oh shit” or a variation of the familiar “cat call” most beautiful women experience and ran off to find someone more senior than he. At least that is what Marvin was thinking.

  Good, he thought, that should get him released in no time. After what he figured was over two hours he was not so sure of himself. What the hell is going on? He fumed. They read my credentials and know I’m a New York Times reporter. What was taking so fucking long? I should have been release with profuse apologies by now and on my way to find a phone to call in the story, the story of a practice invasion on a northern rocky shore far from any cities or towns.

  Finally, there was some commotion and what sounded like his surrounding captors snapping to attention. The gag was finally removed. As he was putting his jaw back into shape for a quick rebuke of whoever was in charge, his blindfold was ripped off and he was staring into the eyes of one General Joseph Taggart McNarney.

  The very general that was the Commander of the European Theater in May 1946. The very general that Melvin Douglas Billings has pilloried in a series of articles. The articles pertained to what Marvin classified as the “The Fall of Western Europe” that was overseen by McNarney. His articles had led to the second Truman commission and a series of hearings on the debacle in Europe in May 1946 that allowed Stalin to conquer most of Western Europe in months.

  He had portrayed McNarney as a detached, pseudo erudite who had no interest in his command. In less than three weeks, the Red Army destroyed all the forces under his command. McNarney just looked at him and smirked. The phrase “This was not going to end well” kept repeating in Marvin’s thoughts, even as he tried to talk his way out of whatever McNarney had in mind for him.

  Besides the menacing grin, McNarney conducted himself very professionally and Marvin had visions of actually getting released. Then, the phrase “national security” kept creeping into the conversation and things like detain, secrets, and similar terms became more and more frequent.

  His heart sank as McNarney leaned over and whispered in his ear…”payback is a bitch.” And then left the room.

  Strange Weather

  As noted elsewhere, the fall of 1946 was unseasonably warm and dry. Suddenly, the weather changed for much of Northern Europe on 21 January. Temperatures plunged to record lows in Britain, Northern France, Germany, and much of Scandinavia. 23 feet of snow was recorded in the Scottish Highlands and all over Great Britain. Life froze to a halt.

  Factories shut down as people were trapped in their homes. There was a shortage of coal caused by many factors that were in place even before the weather set in. People were freezing in the dark. Newspapers were regulated to four small sheets daily. The Royal Navy’s submarine fleet was tapped to run their generators and provide power to select cities. Chickens were killed by the freezing weather by the thousands, and potatoes were rationed for the first time. [14]

  Figure 18 – Near Ashburn

  The end result was that Great Britain became a burden instead of an addition to NATO. She was not making planes to replace those lost in the Second Battle of Britain. She could not feed her troops on the Pyrenees Line. The, just started, NATO counter offensive was delayed by two months due to the sorry state of Her Majesties Empire.

  The British forces were to have taken a major role in the planned offensive. A number of units that were on their way to the front were returned to Britain to assist the civilian government.

  The effects on the Soviet Union proper were hard to determine. There were rampant rumors of widespread starvation due to crop failure, but nothing confirmed by NATO. The anecdotal stories were coming from refugees, who were prone to tales of woe. The intelligence agencies felt that the refugees were trying to garner more food for themselves.

  In contrast, the Southern portion of France was very rainy, yet very warm as was Spain. While Germany was a disaster, the Soviets appeared to bringing in enough food to keep riots from occurring. From all reports, Poland was in a situation similar to Germany, with just enough food provided by Stalin to keep social unrest at bay.

  The Soviet army did not appear to be suffering on any front. The offensive in Turkey and Iraq continued unabated much to the delight of the NATO planners. The middle of March brought warm weather, once again, and flooding to many parts of Britain. Slowly, the offensive in the Pyrenees started to push the Soviets back. If this timeline was any indication of how long it would take to free Western Europe, the American public’s patience would run out in 1948 or 50 at the latest.

  The US had presidential elections coming up in 1948, and if significant progress had not been made by then the government of Truman was sure to fall. In Britain, a no confidence vote was called after the Coal Shortage Fiasco. With the conservatives again in power, Winston Churchill was named Prime Minister for the second time.

  The British change in government brought in a massive influx of cash from the US. The Southern cabal of senators had been starving Britain to punish Atlee for his socialistic tendencies. The Senators finally relented to the will of Truman. This cash came just in time to stave off a deep depression in the whole of free Europe.

  The weather had caused a three-month hiccup, but NATO forces were finally back on track. Unbeknownst to the Kremlin, the American production numbers were on the rise and now stood at 75% of wartime levels at the end of March. There would be enough materials in the form of bullets and machines to do the job. It took nine long months for the American giants of industry to be convinced that yet again they had to forgo profit and assist the world in ridding itself from tyranny in the form of a dictator. Now, the American public had to be convinced that the lives of its young men were worth the price.

  America, the sleeping giant and its industrialists had been re-awakened and was hungry for bear meat.

  Chapter Ten:

  Other Fronts, Other Problems

  Figure 19- Meme left – Antoine right

  Marseilles Finest

  Meme and Antoine were running faster than they had ever run before. Antoine was slightly extending his lead on Meme. The reason for their haste, was their very lives. Ahead of them were three very big Russian Cossacks who had their backs to them. Seeing the back of your enemy is a sure way of staying alive in a war.

  The Cossacks were busy trying to service their machine gun that had just killed a half a dozen of Meme and Antoine’s squad. The death of their squad members didn’t really matter to Meme and Antoine as they were both psychopaths in the truest sense. Both were products of the docks of Marseilles and were educated by the Milieu, the French organized crime.

  As young men they had made a pact and on the same night had killed their guardians in Alicante, Spain. Then, they boarded a ship for Marseilles and fell in with the Milieu, under the tutelage of Paul Carbone. He turned his two protégées into perfect killers and enforcers. Things were going well for Meme and Antoine, when Carbone was replaced and a new mayor took over in Marseilles.

  They were arrested and deported back to Spain to stand trial for a dozen murders. As they were waiting to be hung they were offered a reprieve if they chose to join the army and fight against the Red Army that was assaulting Spain. They readily agreed.

  Somehow they managed to make it through training without killing anyone, including their drill sergeant. They were sent directly to the Pyrenees Line to f
ace the Red Army. Their unit was one of the first to encounter the Soviet style of warfare. They had survived along with 20 others of their 200-man company.

  The war on the Pyrenees Line for the Spanish troops had so far been a series of retreats. Retreats from one mountain top to another. Things changed when the American’s used their atomic bombs on the oil regions of the USSR.

  Now, their unit was leading the first attack by a Spanish division that would actually take ground from the Reds and not give it back. This attack was the start of a long offensive to retake Western Europe. To their South, the British were watching and waiting for their opportunity to close with the Soviets. To their north a polyglot of former western soldiers were poised to bring freedom to their countrymen. These units consisted of Germans, French, Dutch, Danes, Belgium, and even a few Andorrans and Luxembourgers. These units were going to take territory back from the Reds and hold it until relieved. There would be no retreat.

  As Meme and Antoine’s squad had been the first to advance, the hidden machine gun they were racing towards had decimated their unit. The fact that they were enthusiastically racing towards certain death was a testament not only to the oratorical skills of their now dead Captain, as well as a confirmation of the powers of rhetoric on weak minds. May be they finally needed something to believe in after 24 years of only believing in themselves.

  Antoine slit the first Cossack’s throat as he ran past him. Quick as you please, the Commie was dead almost before he hit the ground. Antoine then leaped off a hillock and landed with both feet on the upper back of next Cossack. He propelled the man head first into a rock shaped like a giant ax head. When the enemy’s head met the rock, the rock won, leaving a shower of blood and skull misting in the rarified air north of Huesca, Spain.