text: (This is a fun, if a bit dark, alternate history short story written up off the back of a game of 'Hearts of Iron 4', in which I played as Ireland and really leaned in to how silly it got. I tried things and made an awful mess. It's not intended to be serious, or to reflect the real personalities of people named in the story. It isn't remotely realistic or historically accurate. About a 5 to 10 minute read!) How did we get here? James Larkin could only ponder this as he watched the last of the Irish air corp's enormous strategic jet bombers lumber into the air, heavy with their deadly cargo. If you had told him as a boy that something that heavy could fly, he would have laughed at you. They were setting off for what was once Iceland, now the northern extent of the fascist 'Resurrectionist Ireland'. Before, it had been part of Larkin's Irish People's Union. Better times, Larkin thought bitterly. He absent mindedly brushed a finger across the patch covering his ruined eye. In a few weeks, America's eastern seaboard would awaken to German carriers and fighter planes; the Italian navy would bombard the coast, and Axis troops would land their forces - probably sending what remained of the Irish army in with the Hungarians and Romanians as cannon fodder to establish a beach head. The lads would be cut down on the Jersey shore, in the name of Der Fuhrer. How did we get here? 1936. Tensions rise in Europe, as Germany re-militarises the Rhineland. In Ireland, the annoyance this causes the British leads to mirth, but serious people are concerned. James Larkin and Eoin O'Duffy represent opposing sides in the debate over what we should do - join in the Communist revolution (the Soviets, not being fond of the British, would be sure to protect us, and to fend off the fascists); or throw our lot in with the Reich, following the seemingly growing list of countries going that direction. Of course, there was also De Valera, and his tired brand of conformity and pandering to his Catholic idols. An Irish people yearning for identity, and seeking strong leaders to help liberate her northern province, appealed to the Communist and Fascist factions for promises of freedom for their northern cousins. In the end, in spite of the German Reich's successes in demanding territory across Europe (or perhaps because of it), the Communists won out. O'Duffy would be a thorn in Larkin's side for years to come, the threat of a Nazi sponsored fascist coup always lurking around the corner. The revolution was really a peaceful referendum for Ireland, but De Valera would never been seen again. James Larkin began planning to retake the north from Britain. The years that followed saw rapid development. As the Communist state machinery was erected, from Soviet youth schools to political commissars and ideology training centres, Ireland also rose to the challenge set for it by Stalin's USSR: "grow strong". The introduction of widespread conscription, limiting of export trade, and reduction in luxury goods being manufactured, was coupled with massive increases in military infrastructure. Research was directed towards producing infantry and artillery weapons; submarines and destroyers were designed, and dockyards built; fighters and bombers crept off small production lines, but accumulated nonetheless. Russian research and material support helped, but Ireland's scientists found themselves extremely well funded and given free reign to work on anything that would help us to fight. Scientists fleeing the Nazi party would find refuge in Ireland also, aiding our efforts. In time, the Irish armed forces stood around 300,000 strong - enough to make a contribution. Landing at Molotovsk in 1938, they marched through Russia to volunteer with Communist China in the struggle against Japan and her puppet Chinese statelets. They acquitted themselves well, but ultimately had to retreat and return to Ireland due to the harsh conditions and short supply in the eastern theater. And then, on the eve of the USSR's acceptance of Ireland's membership of ComIntern in 1939, war broke out between the Allied and Axis powers. Poland fell, then Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg...and France. As the Germans turned their sights on Denmark, an increasingly desperate Britain could not tolerate a strong Communist threat to her west. In a move nobody saw coming, they sent a diplomat named MacDonald with an offer. Join the war on their side, he said, and they would return Northern Ireland to our control. Larkin was stunned. It was his mandate for taking power, and it would simply land in his lap. There were only two problems. First, ComIntern would not take rejection lightly (joining the British in the war against the Reich would surely count Ireland out, as Germany had signed the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact with Russia). And the bigger problem: for the past 3 years, Larkin's people had been smuggling weapons in to the British Raj and Turkey, fuelling communist insurrectionist movements in India, and hoping to trouble British north African concerns from Turkey. To join the British war now might be suicide; a Britain without the manpower and resources of the Raj and Africa would be in real trouble. After much debate, Larkin elected to accept Britain's offer - then immediately betray them and complete the joining of ComIntern. The Irish felt no sorrow for this betrayal against the old enemy. Once their troops were removed and ours occupied their forts and coastal batteries, Britain would not dare try to retake a strong, unified Ireland; especially while at the same time trying to wrest control of Africa from the Axis. Much less would they try anything once India rose up in defiance. And as an added bonus to getting what Ireland wanted, "Unkle Joe", as Larkin had come to think of Stalin, would surely be pleased to see more Communist countries born from the ashes of the bourgeoisie. Having had so much success in coming to power and building Ireland up, having delivered the north to his people, Larkin supposed that his luck was about used up. This was confirmed in several ways. The insurrection in India was wildly successful, very swiftly removing Lord Linlithgow and his garrisons from power. However, the new India then decided that their best course to continue fighting the British would be to declare for the Axis. In joining Germany's Reich, they effectively closed themselves off from helping ComIntern - indeed, they would end up fighting against it. Turkey, taking their cue from the Indians, did the same. Ireland did join ComIntern in the end, though their apparent mismanagement of the outcomes in India and Turkey did not help. Who could have predicted that the Indian hatred for Britain was stronger than their love of the worker, or that the inheritors of the Ottoman Empire would be so easily swayed? In spite of her weakened state and desperate position, Britain declared war on Ireland in 1941 and began bombing. The effort was small, but enough to do damage and cause many casualties. People questioned Larkin's judgement, but spirits were kept high - and we fought back. Ireland's scientists had made much of the materials provided by Mother Russia, and by 1942 could build and fire simple rockets. From each of the four provinces, their vengeance weapons rained down on the UK, as many as four per day hitting somewhat random locations. Ireland was effectively cut off from Soviet supplies by the British navy, meaning the arms production which had now grown the army to over 400,000 halted in its tracks. Fuel reserves were low, so Ireland's fighters, bombers, submarines and destroyers had to greatly reduce their operation. Motorised troops became foot infantry again as trucks were mothballed. In late 1942, the Axis breached the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, and went to war with ComIntern. Ireland, (together with the USSR, Mongolia, and some place called Tannu Tuva) was now at war with all of the Axis and Allied powers simultaneously. As the Soviets fought Germany on the east front, and the Allies tried to gain a foothold in Africa, Ireland could only sit back and watch. In one piece of good news, shortly after going to war with nearly everyone (but especially the British), a small Irish force had managed to go off shore before the British blockade descended, landing on Iceland. Iceland had declared for the Axis, and as such it was a valid ComIntern target, and lightly defended. Iceland was taken with minimal casualties, and supplies could be moved home by air. Ireland would survive the British blockade, albeit with severely reduced growth. For the next several years, the war raged in Europe. The Americans had joined in 1941, throwing their forces time and again against an impenetrable coastal defence in France and Italy. Without strong UK support, and with the war in Africa all but lost, things looked grim for the Allies by the mid-40's. Casualties stood at over 8 million, though this was dwarfed by Soviet losses. The Reich lost people too, but enormous industrial output and manpower from captured territories fuelled their divisions. African resources were increasingly reaching them instead of the Allies, as the UK and France were squeezed out of Africa. Japan entered the war and worked its way south through the Philippines and Dutch East Indies, eventually taking isolated Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, the front lines moved little, and losses mounted. It was a war of attrition, lives the currency which would buy victory. 12 years in to the war, in 1950, all that remained of the Allies was Canada, the USA, and the UK. Distracted by their western front with Japan, and having bounced off French and Belgian shores for perhaps the 10th time, the USA was powerless to assist when German forces, using Italian naval power, stormed the beaches of Britain. Paratroopers captured towns and villages, while tanks rolled through the cities, a blanket of fighter and bomber cover atop their positions. The UK had endured through so much, but capitulation was inevitable. Ireland had fended off small British and American attempts at landing and capturing our island, but serious questions had to be asked about determined Axis landings from British shores. In the end, the German forces returned to Europe, leaving an occupying force in the UK and concentrating on fighting Russia. Ireland, freed of the UK naval pinion, was now entrapped by Italian boats. At least the bombing stopped. Irish rocketry had matured and come in to its own, and the rocket bombardment was redirected to western Germany. Jet engines were discovered by 1951, and Irish designers created a strategic bomber with enough range to bomb German factories and infrastructure. When the Italian navy relented, moving off to fight elsewhere, the majority of the Irish army set off to join the eastern front in the fight against the Axis, landing once more at Molotovsk. They found the front line much further east than they would have hoped - a huge German salient extended to Yaroslavl. Worse, they discovered that several years of stagnation in terms of arms production left them with obsolete equipment, particularly the artillery which simply could not compete. Their anti-tank was not up to par either. German panzer divisions pushed them back time and again, and the massive air power of the German Luftwaffe meant they could not hold a position for long. The Irish fought bravely, throwing themselves in wave after wave at German positions; even the Russians thought they were crazy. They briefly retook and held Moscow before a vicious counter assault threw them out of the city. Eventually, the tattered rags of the army returned home, hoping to rebuild and fight once more. At this time, another of Larkin's secret plots came to fruition. Irish scientists, with Russian research and some stolen nuclear material, had been working on nuclear bombs. Nobody knew that the fancy new power plant in Castlebar was spinning off a deadly side product, something which could smite a city like the god of the old testament himself. In early 1952, two bombs were prepared: Fear Saille and Buachaill Beag. They were loaded on to a pair of bombers, and the high command saluted them as they took off on their path to glory. Frankfurt and Hamburg were the targets. The devastation was immeasurable. Rather than weaken the German resolve, it led them to make an even harder push to their east. Larkin's generals reported on Christmas day 1952 (a day that had been renamed "Irish freedom from oppression day") that a Soviet collapse was expected imminently. On the 26th, it was officially confirmed. A communication was received from what was probably the last standing outpost of the Russian military. Their message simply stated "All is lost. The revolution has failed. Europe and the world are Adolf's playground. I can only say that I will go out with a grenade in my mouth, and a Nazi throat in each hand. Good luck comrades." In Dublin, Larkin convened his generals and began to plan for the defence of our shoreline. The room grew unusually quiet, and Larkin sensed spaces opening up around him. Eoin O'Duffy held the pistol. There was a bang, a flash of light, and then darkness. The bullet had destroyed his left eye and maimed his face, but Larkin survived. In the end, the Irish people's gratitude saved him from execution - making him a martyr might have ignited a deadly civil war. O'Duffy's moment had finally come. Resurrectionist Ireland rolled its flags out everywhere, and a people now worried for their survival embraced, on the surface at least, fascist ideology. It struck Larkin how easily the extreme leftist tools of state could be turned to the use of the extreme right. On release from hospital in June 1953, Larkin was given a token post in the military, and never found himself in want of company - fascist thugs became his shadow, everywhere he went. In the end, the Germans were welcomed ashore when they arrived some months after the coup. Much to O'Duffy's annoyance, the officer in charge of their forces declined to meet him, instead asking to have Larkin brought to his ship immediately. Boarding, Larkin felt sure he would not walk off again. The man who had ordered two nuclear detonations in German cities could surely find no forgiveness in the jaws of the wolf. Ushered in to an unexpectedly plush cabin aboard a German warship, Larkin met SS Oberst Gruppenfuhrer Sepp Dietrich. "Herr Larkin. Komm her. Sitzen." Dietrich came close, handing a glass of whiskey to Larkin, and stared intently at him, taking in every detail of his face - showing no awkwardness at pausing to closely examine a wrinkle here, a laughter line there, the protruding scars under the eye patch. Finally, he spoke again. "So good...to finally meet the brave, powerful man responsible for Hamburg. And Frankfurt of course. But for me...mostly Hamburg. Mein schwester...my sister was there, and her children." Larkin swallowed. What might these sick SS have devised, what ways could he be made to suffer? Whispers and stories told of secret camps behind their lines where unspeakable things were done...what if they were true? Dietrich chuckled menacingly. "No need for concern, Herr Larkin. No, it is I who should be sorry. Mein Fuhrer has guided me, and made this clear. He taught me that I should be sorry...that we were not strong enough to stop you." He slammed his drink on the table, causing Larkin to nearly drop his own. "The might of your little nation is unquestionable. And now it will serve us. You will work with O'Duffy to disarm the divisions that were most loyal to you. We will send what remains of Irish forces to fight elsewhere. You will use your subtle expertise to ignite a coup in Canada, and another in Mexico - fascist coups, this time, Herr Larkin. And above all, you will send your verdammt bombs down the throats of the Americans. Finish your drink and get off my ship." Larkin swallowed his whiskey. It was excellent. It is 1953. Irish jet bombers are gathering in Iceland, preparing for their first sortie over the eastern seaboard of the US. They wait only for the signal that the skies have been cleared by the Luftwaffe. James Larkin, with his remaining eye, watches the last bomber dissolve from a dot in to nothingness as it fades from view. In a few days, the USA will be engulfed in flames, and the world's best hope for freedom from the Reich's grip will blink out and slip away. "I brought us here", thinks James Larkin.