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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 12, 2021 15:16:59 GMT
A New Jerusalem Part 9
Amesbury
November 29th 1964
It had been a busy few days for Stanley Barton since his return from his first Prime Ministerial overseas trip to North America. In addition to the conference, state dinner and meeting with President Kennedy in Washington, he had made a flying visit to Halifax to meet with Prime Ministers Sir William Richardson of Canada, Jack Steel of New Avalon, Edmund McDonald of the West Indies and Sir Nathaniel Hudson of Newfoundland. Steel had been his mercurial self, befitting his repute as the Empire’s most individual premier, whilst Hudson and McDonald were extremely keen on expanded military cooperation and Richardson quietly dominated affairs as was his usual want. The old term of British North America had mostly been confined to the history books when he was but a boy back before the war, but it certainly felt like it was alive and well as a power bloc within the Empire. With them inside for his defence plans, persuading the other Dominion leaders would be that much easier.
He’d thought that there would be something of a brief respite after the trip, but that had been put paid by a kerfuffle with the French over tariffs and a near miss on a strike by the London dockworkers; he had called up the union leadership and made sure they knew which side their bread was buttered. If the Port of London was to maintain its position as the world's greatest port with some 124 million tons of cargo, then it would require wage restraint and improved productivity whilst the dredging and modernisation projects made margins tight; the Board of Trade's Industrial Development Subcommittee had forecast some dire portents as the coastal coal trade started to decline, but adapting the docks to the new 'Londonsize' shipping containers could hopefully provide some degree of amelioration. In the long term, as ships became larger, it was inevitable that a certain volume of trade would head out to the deepwater ports on the Channel and North Sea, but the political importance of the dockland trade and workers (and their associated powerful unions and solidly Labour constituencies) made doing something about the issue an important factor for Barton to take into account.
As if that hadn't been enough fuss, then there had been a minor diplomatic incident with the dashed Spanish. A somewhat shady wizard residing in Salamanca had got into a spot of bother over ‘borrowing’ a grimoire from the restricted section of the University library, resulting in his apartment being raided by the Spanish Inquisition; he hadn’t expected them, apparently. They attempted to take the fellow into custody for their non-too delicate interrogation, a step which he disputed, leading to a confused pursuit through the nighttime skies to Gibraltar. Upon his arrival, he claimed protection as a British subject, even as the Spanish were demanding his extradition for trial and execution. It had taken almost an entire day of high level negotiations to stand the Spaniards down, which took an agreement on arms and military fuel exports and the news that the wizard in question had suddenly discovered a long hidden desire to study penguins in Antarctica for the next decade. Madrid had tried to tie in their long-running complaints about Gibraltar to the whole business, as ever, but they had got short shrift on the issue and had settled down once Hood had made a quick dash from Agadir.
After all that, it was somewhat pleasant to get out of London into the countryside and it had been a nice little flight out to RAF Boscombe Down. However, it was only somewhat pleasant, as his visit here was to attend a meeting of what was rather banally termed the Joint Supervisory Coordination and Cooperation Group, a term that was eschewed by most of those in the loop - they preferred to simply call it the Special Committee. It gathered together key representatives all of the disparate quasi-independent ‘specially-powered’ groups of the realm, as Sir Obo had put it. Having a combined body allowed the Government to coordinate actions and policies and essentially to ensure that everyone played along nicely on the same side. In addition to representatives from departments of the Crown such as the Ministry of Magic, the Royal Legion of Frontiersmen, the Rangers of the various kingdoms and the Office of the Witchfinder General, there was the Independent Wizardly Society, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the Ancient Order of Druids, the Templars, the Grand College of Bards, the Royal Guild of Alchemists, the Super League of Great Britain and a dozen other more obscure and obscurantist groups who drew lots to get a yearly seat. Their difficult nature was matched only by their collective power and capability. To be quite honest, Barton thought of the arrangement as rather a dog’s breakfast, although that had the quite admirable features of being healthful, appreciated by the dog and over much more bally quickly than this would be.
Oh, and they had to hold the blasted meetings at Stonehenge.
Naturally.
Less than five minutes drive later, they were there. Barton walked the last fifty yards up to the meeting table alone apart from Sir Obo, who flapped along next to him, whilst his bodyguards shadowed the pair discreetly. Already he could see the lines of others tramping through the grassy field toward the stone circle, following the elaborate protocol for the Special Committee. His security detail and the Wiltshire Constabulary had the general area covered quite comfortably, maintaining their outer protective pickets at a mile. Besides, with the fellows he’d be meeting up there, he would be safe enough.
Three men stood waiting for him just before the table
“Good morning, Prime Minister.”
“Good morning to you, Sir Charles. How was the Congo?”
“ Humid, complicated and extremely dangerous. Tarzan sends his regards, Obo.”
“I’ll have to thank him for his last fruit bowl; he really went out all the way this time.” ooked the Cabinet Secretary, beating his wings furiously as he hovered in place.
Barton turned to the other two men. “Saxon. Maturin. Glad to have you here for this.”
“Naturally, Prime Minister.” replied Dr. Stephen Maturin “The agenda is rather smaller than usual this year, which is a small blessing.”
His tall and stern companion scowled, his displeasure flashing through his ice blue eyes.
“I’d rather we dealt with all of that dross somewhere else and save this for more important matters.”
Barton looked the man in his eyes and nodded. Another reason why he liked Sir Thomas Saxon, Master of the Templars of England and Maleus Maleficarum, was that he had as much tolerance for nonsense and carry on as himself - not very much.
.................................
The opening throes of the meeting were thankfully swift and streamlined thanks to the efficiency of Sir Obo as secretary and the no-nonsense approach adopted by Dr. Maturin as chairman. Even through this short span of time, Barton could see how the various factions coalesced around their natural allies. The rangers and druids were together, as was to be expected, whilst the Templars and paladins were in close agreement on most business and cooperated, albeit at arm’s length, with the Witchfinder General’s man, a dark and brooding fellow named Ezekiel Cade. The bards had thrown their lot in with the alchemists and the Hermeticists, garnering some thunderously filthy looks from both of the Indies and the little old lady from the Union of the Cunning Folk. So far, there had been general of grudging agreement on maintenance of official lines of communication through the agency of the Committee and something called the Salmagundi Protocol, ratification of the exemption of registered independent magic users from prosecution and/or persecution by the Ministry and the WGO and unanimous endorsement of the updated secret addendum to the War Book.
Now came the hard part.
“Very good, ladies, gentlemen and talking beasts, we have two final items of business, both on behest of Her Majesty’s Government. Firstly, procedures for notification of relevant local authorities and police forces of any events, activities and operations of a supernatural or magical character greater than Level Three on the Hartnell-Dunsany Scale, as outlined in Appendix 9 and 3/4, Subsection 12A.”
This lead to immediate murmurs of discontent and flummering flabbergastation. Such a step would put Britain - Britain! - on the road to being on the level of some of the more interventionist and controlling governments overseas, rather than keeping to the traditional liberties that had been enjoyed for centuries.
“This is preposterous! A massive overstepping of traditional authority!” spluttered Professor Richard Naomhssen in gathering outrage.
“Now then, Prof. We’ve got to have rules, don’t we? Where would we be if we didn’t have any rules?” Maturin’s response was as cool as a very cool cucumber in Greenland, or perhaps as collected as a rather self assured marrow , depending on the extent of your views on the side psychology of salad vegetables.
“France.” came the almost sheepish reply from a dozen chastened voices.
“And where would we be if we had too many rules?”
“Germany.”
“Indeed. For those with quite natural misgivings, please note that there is no compulsory requirement for prior notification, so that it can occur up to 3 days afterwards, and that forms can be submitted by post or messenger bird.”
This definitely seemed to ameliorate the Committee, so Maturin moved on.
“Secondly, the Special Register is to be reestablished.”
Rather than spark outrage, there was instead a moment of profound silence as all eyes turned to the Prime Minister. This was the reason he had come and his time was now.
“I am aware that this is rightly viewed as a serious step. I know that it has not been done in peacetime since just before the last war. Then, just as we mustered our armies, turned our industries of peace to factories of death and called upon all of our scientific and technical minds to join together for their King and country, the Government also called on those British subjects whose special talents and blessings set them apart from the ordinary men and women on the street.
I am issuing that call again.
This is not due to any imminent threat of war, although war may come upon us at any moment, nor a grand crisis that wracks our nation and Empire. We need you all now, while we are at peace, so that we can not only prepare for war, but actively work to prevent it. We simply cannot wait for another 1939, another 1950, another 1956 or another 1960 before we do anything. We dare not.
I charge each and every one of you to answer the call, here at the place where the lines of the land come together. We need to use every chance, every group and every man and woman we have, together. The people of Britain, your countrymen need you. We’re not going to wait this time.
What say you?”
The silence hung heavily in the air for a long instant, constraining breath and hope. Then it was broken by a loud and united chorus of cries and pledges.
Good. Now the work could begin.
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Sitting around the table were men from all of the services, for each had their own particular elite specialist forces. There was Lieutenant-General Sir Lorington King, better known as ‘King of the Commandos’, the bluff veteran of more than three dozen raids in World War Two alone, and next to him General “Mad Jack” Churchill, who didn’t let his position as commander of the Special Forces Regiment or his advancing years keep him out of the field and that grand old man of British special operations forces, General Sir Robert Laycock. General Stirling and his deputy Brigadier Mayne were present, as befit the meeting’s location. Admiral Sir Miles Messervy, Director of Royal Naval Intelligence and Special Warfare, was a fearsome fellow with much to be fearsome about, quite the same as Air Vice-Marshal Lord Lissie, Head of Royal Air Force Intelligence and Special Operations, the dashing monocled architect of the ingenious extraction of Von Stalhein from Soviet captivity three years ago.
“I want four principles to be absolutely clear. Firstly, if we are to continue have the best special operations forces in the world, then we will need to pay for it. You do not have what amounts to a blank cheque, gentlemen, but you have a very large cheque nonetheless. I only ask that we get absolute value and absolute efficiency for our money. Secondly, our requirements are increasing and we need larger numbers, but we cannot afford to sacrifice quality in this process. How can this be achieved? I would like details and workable proposals. Thirdly, I won’t say you are the only arm of our Armed Forces and Security services that are not subject to scrutiny by Parliamentary committee, but you are the most significant one. That behoves keeping oversight in place through the most appropriate means.”
Prime Minister Stanley Barton paused. This was another meeting that was not officially taking place, given the natural secrecy attached to the special forces. He had insisted not only that it occur, though, but that he had an opportunity to come up here to Hereford to get a better sense of the situation. Britain’s special operations forces were organised into three tiers. At the base were the Commandos from all four services, dominated obviously by the eight active brigades of the Army. The Army Commandos’ major roles were direct action, raiding, infiltration, sabotage, scouting and global light infantry operations and the Royal Marine Commandos were broadly similar, albeit with a particular amphibious focus, whilst the Royal Naval Commandos focused on combat diving, amphibious reconnaissance, underwater demolitions and maritime warfare and the Royal Air Force Commandos on reconnaissance, aerodrome assault, search and rescue, pathfinding, tactical forward air control and special strike operations.
On the middle tier was the Special Forces Regiment and the three specialist groups of the Army - the Long Range Desert Group, Long Range Jungle Group and Long Range Strike Group and the Royal Marines Assault Force. The latter was a child of the Korean War, where the deployed Royal Marine division would deploy several company strength long range penetration groups operating behind enemy lines; their current role was somewhat nebulous, including but not limited to special reconnaissance, riverine warfare and counter insurgency. The last was the meat and bread of the Special Forces Regiment, the direct descendants of the illustrious Chindits of the Burma, Siam and Indochina campaigns. Their primary mission was unconventional operations, counter insurgency, brushfire operations and guerrilla warfare; their commanders and supporters had been quite adamant that theirs was a very different mission than their American namesakes, driven more by their Empire mission in Africa and Asia.
At the pinnacle stood the SAS, the elite of the elite, and the secretive SBS. Selected from the chosen few who made it through the most gruelling selection process in the world, the Special Air Service then trained its men in combat, survival and reconnaissance to a razor sharp readiness and proficiency. For every 100 men that began selection, only 4 made it through to be part of the ultimate force. Their specialities had grown from the wartime beginnings in the Desert War of North Africa and, whilst they were still the premier long range special reconnaissance and behind enemy lines destruction force, they focussed further upon counter-revolutionary warfare, guerrilla warfare, close-quarter battle, special protection, precision raiding and clandestine intelligence gathering. Their counterparts from the Naval Service were just as deadly, but more clandestine and less well known, having carved out their own maritime niche of operations in the shadowy conflicts that had beset the world for the last two decades. Both regiments were the best that Britain could count upon in this epoch of war in peace.
“Finally, chaps, I want to emphasise that you represent what I see as the way forward. We are going to take to Cabinet a proposal to elevate Combined Operations back to its wartime status as a separate unified command responsible directly to the Chiefs of Staff Committee, combining the Army’s Special Forces Command, RAF Special Duties Force and the Naval Special Operations. I would like to see us develop our capabilities from all forces to operate together at maximum efficiency. That will entail a unified command structure. Field Marshal Wingate, I can think of no one more suited to the role than yourself.”
The slight, grizzled figure seated opposite Barton shook his head. “I’m too old, Prime Minister.”
“Not so far gone that you can’t perform this last service, I think. Two years, three tops, to get the new system running properly, and then you can hand over to new blood. We need a steady and experienced hand to get things running shipshape; your men are to be the point of the sword of the British Empire and that sword is going to war. It is your duty and you are needed.”
“You express the matter most vigorously, Prime Minister, as ever.” began Sir Richard Pendragon. “We do have a need for experience to coordinate our programmes for expansion and the needs of the military situation in the Far East, which will draw upon all three services. As outlined in the briefing paper, we will be deploying a Combined Operations headquarters to coordinate the anticipated RN squadron, RAF composite wing and ground forces, in addition to the other major elements - the joint Commonwealth Special Forces Brigade and an expanded new Gurkha field force.”
Barton nodded approvingly. The integration of Commonwealth special forces into a single unified command structure had been a tantalising prospect raised in 1956, but set aside due to the exigencies of national control. Now, with a new major war, the forces of Britain and the Commonwealth Dominions would once again be operating under a single command. If it were to prove successful, then there would be greater scope for more ambitious plans…
“Well, Prime Minister, if you do want some concrete proposals, there are some issues of armament that can be addressed immediately; my apologies to the Navy and Air Force chaps, but this is limited to our land based forces.”
“Put together a report, General Stirling, by all means.”
“I can do better. I’ve got our chief armourer, Captain Quirinus Quatermain, waiting outside.”
“Bring him in then.” Barton brightened at the prospect of discussing weaponry, as ever.
A tall, thin officer entered the conference roomafter Stirling pressed his buzzer and saluted smartly.
“At ease, Captain. How’s your great-grandfather?”
“Enjoying the Serengeti, sir.”
“He’s earned it. Now, let’s hear about what you chaps need.”
“There are a number of requirements for specialist weapons, sir. We are well supplied with our standard assault rifle for most roles, but there is a clear need for a new submachine gun/carbine for close quarter battle and similar operations. The Uzi is a fine enough weapon, but has its limitations in range and accuracy and will be two decades old in a few years.There is a very promising gun under development by Heckler and Koch in Germany that fulfils certain of our requirements.”
“Which of them doesn’t it fulfil?”
“The calibre, sir. Jerry is quite attached to his 9mm Luger, as really is most of the Continent. Our preference is for a round with higher velocity and stopping power. The good old .455 Webley doesn’t quite get the job done, nor does the American .45. The boffins at Enfield and Browning are working on a number of options for rounds with better ballistics than the Webley and more stopping power than the European 9mm options.”
“Interesting. This would also play into our requirement for a modern combat pistol.”
“True enough, Prime Minister, although we have been happy enough with the Browning in that regard.”
“If we go in for a penny, we might as well go in for a pound.”Barton knew that all of the armed service had a requirement for a new pistol and this was shared by several of the Commonwealth militaries and police forces. The potential number of orders would easily run to over one and a half millions, even taking into account the role of the new Uzi as a personal defence gun for tank crew, carrier drivers and the Royal Mining and Tunneling Corps. All well and good.
“What else?”
“Precision firepower, sir. Our sniper rifles are still based on the old SMLE and are in need of a replacement. Our preference is for something that can outshoot the Soviet Dragunov in all major respects, based on our encounters with it on the North West Frontier.”
“That would have a lot of useful crossover to the rest of the forces, so it can definitely be catered for.”
“Very good. Armstrong-Whitworth have a very promising developmental rifle that fits many of our purposes. Apart from that, we would only have general procurement items - more light machine guns, multiple grenade launchers, anti tank rifles and so forth.”
“You’ll get all of that and anything more besides. General, work out what you need and in what amount. We will give you the tools; you’ll do the job.”
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Jan 12, 2021 15:22:48 GMT
A New Jerusalem Part 9Amesbury
November 29th 1964It had been a busy few days for Stanley Barton since his return from his first Prime Ministerial overseas trip to North America. In addition to the conference, state dinner and meeting with President Kennedy in Washington, he had made a flying visit to Halifax to meet with Prime Ministers Sir William Richardson of Canada, Jack Steel of New Avalon, Edmund McDonald of the West Indies and Sir Nathaniel Hudson of Newfoundland. Steel had been his mercurial self, befitting his repute as the Empire’s most individual premier, whilst Hudson and McDonald were extremely keen on expanded military cooperation and Richardson quietly dominated affairs as was his usual want. The old term of British North America had mostly been confined to the history books when he was but a boy back before the war, but it certainly felt like it was alive and well as a power bloc within the Empire. With them inside for his defence plans, persuading the other Dominion leaders would be that much easier. He’d thought that there would be something of a brief respite after the trip, but that had been put paid by a kerfuffle with the French over tariffs and a near miss on a strike by the London dockworkers; he had called up the union leadership and made sure they knew which side their bread was buttered. If the Port of London was to maintain its position as the world's greatest port with some 124 million tons of cargo, then it would require wage restraint and improved productivity whilst the dredging and modernisation projects made margins tight; the Board of Trade's Industrial Development Subcommittee had forecast some dire portents as the coastal coal trade started to decline, but adapting the docks to the new 'Londonsize' shipping containers could hopefully provide some degree of amelioration. In the long term, as ships became larger, it was inevitable that a certain volume of trade would head out to the deepwater ports on the Channel and North Sea, but the political importance of the dockland trade and workers (and their associated powerful unions and solidly Labour constituencies) made doing something about the issue an important factor for Barton to take into account. As if that hadn't been enough fuss, then there had been a minor diplomatic incident with the dashed Spanish. A somewhat shady wizard residing in Salamanca had got into a spot of bother over ‘borrowing’ a grimoire from the restricted section of the University library, resulting in his apartment being raided by the Spanish Inquisition; he hadn’t expected them, apparently. They attempted to take the fellow into custody for their non-too delicate interrogation, a step which he disputed, leading to a confused pursuit through the nighttime skies to Gibraltar. Upon his arrival, he claimed protection as a British subject, even as the Spanish were demanding his extradition for trial and execution. It had taken almost an entire day of high level negotiations to stand the Spaniards down, which took an agreement on arms and military fuel exports and the news that the wizard in question had suddenly discovered a long hidden desire to study penguins in Antarctica for the next decade. Madrid had tried to tie in their long-running complaints about Gibraltar to the whole business, as ever, but they had got short shrift on the issue and had settled down once Hood had made a quick dash from Agadir. After all that, it was somewhat pleasant to get out of London into the countryside and it had been a nice little flight out to RAF Boscombe Down. However, it was only somewhat pleasant, as his visit here was to attend a meeting of what was rather banally termed the Joint Supervisory Coordination and Cooperation Group, a term that was eschewed by most of those in the loop - they preferred to simply call it the Special Committee. It gathered together key representatives all of the disparate quasi-independent ‘specially-powered’ groups of the realm, as Sir Obo had put it. Having a combined body allowed the Government to coordinate actions and policies and essentially to ensure that everyone played along nicely on the same side. In addition to representatives from departments of the Crown such as the Ministry of Magic, the Royal Legion of Frontiersmen, the Rangers of the various kingdoms and the Office of the Witchfinder General, there was the Independent Wizardly Society, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the Ancient Order of Druids, the Templars, the Grand College of Bards, the Royal Guild of Alchemists, the Super League of Great Britain and a dozen other more obscure and obscurantist groups who drew lots to get a yearly seat. Their difficult nature was matched only by their collective power and capability. To be quite honest, Barton thought of the arrangement as rather a dog’s breakfast, although that had the quite admirable features of being healthful, appreciated by the dog and over much more bally quickly than this would be. Oh, and they had to hold the blasted meetings at Stonehenge. Naturally. Less than five minutes drive later, they were there. Barton walked the last fifty yards up to the meeting table alone apart from Sir Obo, who flapped along next to him, whilst his bodyguards shadowed the pair discreetly. Already he could see the lines of others tramping through the grassy field toward the stone circle, following the elaborate protocol for the Special Committee. His security detail and the Wiltshire Constabulary had the general area covered quite comfortably, maintaining their outer protective pickets at a mile. Besides, with the fellows he’d be meeting up there, he would be safe enough. Three men stood waiting for him just before the table “Good morning, Prime Minister.” “Good morning to you, Sir Charles. How was the Congo?” “ Humid, complicated and extremely dangerous. Tarzan sends his regards, Obo.” “I’ll have to thank him for his last fruit bowl; he really went out all the way this time.” ooked the Cabinet Secretary, beating his wings furiously as he hovered in place. Barton turned to the other two men. “Saxon. Maturin. Glad to have you here for this.” “Naturally, Prime Minister.” replied Dr. Stephen Maturin “The agenda is rather smaller than usual this year, which is a small blessing.” His tall and stern companion scowled, his displeasure flashing through his ice blue eyes. “I’d rather we dealt with all of that dross somewhere else and save this for more important matters.” Barton looked the man in his eyes and nodded. Another reason why he liked Sir Thomas Saxon, Master of the Templars of England and Maleus Maleficarum, was that he had as much tolerance for nonsense and carry on as himself - not very much. ................................. The opening throes of the meeting were thankfully swift and streamlined thanks to the efficiency of Sir Obo as secretary and the no-nonsense approach adopted by Dr. Maturin as chairman. Even through this short span of time, Barton could see how the various factions coalesced around their natural allies. The rangers and druids were together, as was to be expected, whilst the Templars and paladins were in close agreement on most business and cooperated, albeit at arm’s length, with the Witchfinder General’s man, a dark and brooding fellow named Ezekiel Cade. The bards had thrown their lot in with the alchemists and the Hermeticists, garnering some thunderously filthy looks from both of the Indies and the little old lady from the Union of the Cunning Folk. So far, there had been general of grudging agreement on maintenance of official lines of communication through the agency of the Committee and something called the Salmagundi Protocol, ratification of the exemption of registered independent magic users from prosecution and/or persecution by the Ministry and the WGO and unanimous endorsement of the updated secret addendum to the War Book. Now came the hard part.“Very good, ladies, gentlemen and talking beasts, we have two final items of business, both on behest of Her Majesty’s Government. Firstly, procedures for notification of relevant local authorities and police forces of any events, activities and operations of a supernatural or magical character greater than Level Three on the Hartnell-Dunsany Scale, as outlined in Appendix 9 and 3/4, Subsection 12A.” This lead to immediate murmurs of discontent and flummering flabbergastation. Such a step would put Britain - Britain! - on the road to being on the level of some of the more interventionist and controlling governments overseas, rather than keeping to the traditional liberties that had been enjoyed for centuries. “This is preposterous! A massive overstepping of traditional authority!” spluttered Professor Richard Naomhssen in gathering outrage. “Now then, Prof. We’ve got to have rules, don’t we? Where would we be if we didn’t have any rules?” Maturin’s response was as cool as a very cool cucumber in Greenland, or perhaps as collected as a rather self assured marrow , depending on the extent of your views on the side psychology of salad vegetables. “France.” came the almost sheepish reply from a dozen chastened voices. “And where would we be if we had too many rules?” “Germany.” “Indeed. For those with quite natural misgivings, please note that there is no compulsory requirement for prior notification, so that it can occur up to 3 days afterwards, and that forms can be submitted by post or messenger bird.” This definitely seemed to ameliorate the Committee, so Maturin moved on. “Secondly, the Special Register is to be reestablished.” Rather than spark outrage, there was instead a moment of profound silence as all eyes turned to the Prime Minister. This was the reason he had come and his time was now. “I am aware that this is rightly viewed as a serious step. I know that it has not been done in peacetime since just before the last war. Then, just as we mustered our armies, turned our industries of peace to factories of death and called upon all of our scientific and technical minds to join together for their King and country, the Government also called on those British subjects whose special talents and blessings set them apart from the ordinary men and women on the street. I am issuing that call again. This is not due to any imminent threat of war, although war may come upon us at any moment, nor a grand crisis that wracks our nation and Empire. We need you all now, while we are at peace, so that we can not only prepare for war, but actively work to prevent it. We simply cannot wait for another 1939, another 1950, another 1956 or another 1960 before we do anything. We dare not. I charge each and every one of you to answer the call, here at the place where the lines of the land come together. We need to use every chance, every group and every man and woman we have, together. The people of Britain, your countrymen need you. We’re not going to wait this time. What say you?” The silence hung heavily in the air for a long instant, constraining breath and hope. Then it was broken by a loud and united chorus of cries and pledges. Good. Now the work could begin. Is the meeting at Stonehenge under ground. |
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 12, 2021 15:55:04 GMT
It is above ground, around a temporary table brought in for this purpose.
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Jan 12, 2021 16:00:23 GMT
It is above ground, around a temporary table brought in for this purpose. In plain few. |
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 12, 2021 16:17:56 GMT
Not really. The road that goes just by it in @ isn’t there and the nearest place is Larkhill Garrison. The area and roads are closed off for the meeting.
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stevep
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Post by stevep on Jan 13, 2021 11:31:52 GMT
Interesting. If it doesn't breach too many security rules  could we have a list of all those people and what group they represent please as quite a collection there.
Personally I would have gone for call rather than charge in that last section. Charge comes across more as a demand which could offend the more independently minded groups while call is an appeal to them to do the 'right' thing, which I suspect might be more effective.
Interesting that Germany is seen as somewhat stricter on rules and France as too loose - as opposed to France having tight rules but often ignoring them. Is Germany strict because its still more conservative with the monarchy surviving or possibly because they are fearful of excessive lose of such abilities by individuals or groups after events in the Nazi period?
Steve
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 13, 2021 20:53:47 GMT
Steve,
1.) Your wish is my command:
Dr Stephen Maturin - Chairman and Director of Special Operations Executive
Sir Obo Macinreish - Secretary, Cabinet Secretary and Chief Flying Monkey of the United Kingdom
Sir Charles Ratcliffe - Sovereign's Champion, Captain of the Royal Guard and Standard Bearer of England
Royal Legion of Frontiersmen - Sir Geoffrey Myngs-Ballingtude
Rangers - Aasmund Brown
Office of the Witchfinder General - Ezekiel Cade
Independent Wizardly Society - Weston Pel Elvallon
Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn - Israel Regardie
Ancient Order of the Druids - Llywelyn Knowland
Templars - Sir Thomas Saxon
Grand College of Bards - Roger Penhaligon
Royal Guild of Alchemists - Professor Richard Naomhssen
Super League of Great Britain - Doctor Incredible
On superheroes:
I've never read any superhero comics after the age of 8 or so, and was quite ignorant of the whole Marvel business beyond having heard of Spiderman and a few others as a boy. The *best* names (Captain Britain, Lionheart and Union Jack) are taken by characters that I really don't like, so they would be very, very different here. There is also Captain Fantastic from Do Not Adjust Your Set.
Others of my own creation: Skyblade, John Bull, Doctor Incredible, Nightstar, Astro Man, Gloriana, The Golden Knight, Mr. Marvellous, Excalibur, Fabulous Fellow, Lord Silver, Arion, Jetboy, Ace Power, Captain Courageous, Helm and The Flashing Blade
In the general 'British circle'/public domain: Tarzan, Allen Quatermain, Solomon Kane, Duke de Richleau, Abraham Van Helsing, Richard Hannay, Bulldog Drummond, Dr. Doolittle
Retired: Sexton Blake, Sherlock Holmes and Carnacki
2.) The use of 'charge' goes to the origins and longevity of some of these groups, with their relationship with various governments going back hundreds of years. As such, the feudal overtones of the language are intentional.
3.) As well as being something of a humourous reference to a British comedic television programme, Germany is seen as strict both for the two reasons you cite and a perceived general social preference for rules, order, bureaucracy and doing things 'by the book'. France, on the other hand, does have some fairly strict rules and laws on the books, but the perception from Britain is that they are often set by the wayside. The ironic thing about the whole situation is that it isn't particularly accurate, even going by uncharitable stereotypes - there is far more humour about the inefficiency of Italian law enforcement, for example.
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stevep
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Post by stevep on Jan 14, 2021 14:36:37 GMT
Thanks for that. What I was partially thinking of was there seemed to be more groups then you had initially mentioned, such as the sentence
The Indies could be the "Independent Wizardly Society" although you only mentioned one person in your list but then there's the Union of the Cunning Folk so wondering if any other small groups included. Is this latter some sort of witches group or some non-human category?
Had to look up a few of those names as never heard of them before but very interesting.
In the list of super-heroes is the Flashing Blade any relation to the French based TV series that was often repeated on TV, at least in Britain, when I was a lad?
Steve
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 14, 2021 18:38:13 GMT
Steve,
I’ll put together a full list of the “unnamed dozen” for your erudition directly. The Union of the Cunning Folk is simply a group representing the “wise women” of rural Britain. They are mostly older and interested in cake recipes and embroidery, but also potions and listening to the wind.
The only “real” name on the list of delegates is Israel Regardie. The public domain superhero list, on the other hand, is full of interesting types.
The Flashing Blade is a swashbuckling superhero quite separate from the show, but, as we will see in the timeline, the decision is made to name the English cut after him in order to ride the cost tails of his momentary high profile and a short lived swashbuckling craze in the summer of 1967.
Simon
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 26, 2021 0:45:29 GMT
A little preview:
“No.”
“No to what, Prime Minister?”
“No to all of them. An honour has got to mean something, Obo. If they are just handed out as pats on the back for long and faithful service, then they are little more than glorified perks.”
“I see you meaning and can quite agree with the general sentiment, but a blanket approach might come across as a tad extreme.”
“I don’t mean to nix all of them, not by a long shot. If someone truly merits an OBE or the like, then they shall get it. I’m talking more to the civil servants and MPs who look upon getting a K as their rightful reward for doing their jobs.”
“This does set something of a precedent, Prime Minister.”
“I’ve no worry with that. As I said, I’ve no issue with good and proper honours. These, however,” Barton gestured at a small pile to his left “need to be rethought.”
“Very good, Prime Minister. Does this extend to the Life Peers?”
“Most certainly. Yes to Florey, but find something more appropriate for the other three. If the House of Lords is to mean anything, then it can’t be a sinecure for captains of industry, or for union chiefs for that matter.”
“You’re not a secret unilateralist, are you Prime Minister?”
“No, Obo, I’ve no grudge against the Lords as an institution, nor as a house of review. Our traditions are what make us strong, when they work as intended and not as a political tool. Let the best get Life Peerages, not the rest.”
“An admirable sentiment, I’m sure, Prime Minister. Now, does this change of policy extend to the Imperial Honours?”
“No, in that we follow the Dominions as they see fit. I have to trust the decision of Sir William on the Canadian names, or there is no equality in our Commonwealth fellows.”
“Very good, Prime Minister.”
“That is a good standard and a good tradition. We keep what is right and nip in the bud that which is not. I don’t want to see knighthoods go to actors, sportsmen or coal barons, not out of disdain for their crafts, but to keep it special. Have them earn it.”
“Now, on the confidential list, there are just a few names this year. A CB for Commander Bond and a KCMG for Brigadier Flashman. You can see the explanations here and here.”
The Cabinet Secretary passed a sheet of vellum across the table, indicating the separate sections with his prehensile tail.
“Hmmm...I can see the case for Bond, but this second chap...I’ve heard of him.”
“Yes, Prime Minister, as have we all. Undoubtedly a cad, and dare I say, a bounder to boot, but this is merited in this case. It seems he did stop a war between Tibet and Shangri-La, even if it was despite himself.”
“Even so, we can’t have the other sort of thing happen, not in this England. Give him a CMG and make him Governor of Pitcairn. That should cool his ardour for a bit.”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Jan 26, 2021 4:21:07 GMT
A little preview: It seems he did stop a war between Tibet and Shangri-La, even if it was despite himself.” Now that would be a interesting story to read. |
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stevep
Fleet admiral
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Post by stevep on Jan 26, 2021 10:00:59 GMT
A little preview: “No.” “No to what, Prime Minister?” “No to all of them. An honour has got to mean something, Obo. If they are just handed out as pats on the back for long and faithful service, then they are little more than glorified perks.” “I see you meaning and can quite agree with the general sentiment, but a blanket approach might come across as a tad extreme.” “I don’t mean to nix all of them, not by a long shot. If someone truly merits an OBE or the like, then they shall get it. I’m talking more to the civil servants and MPs who look upon getting a K as their rightful reward for doing their jobs.” “This does set something of a precedent, Prime Minister.” “I’ve no worry with that. As I said, I’ve no issue with good and proper honours. These, however,” Barton gestured at a small pile to his left “need to be rethought.” “Very good, Prime Minister. Does this extend to the Life Peers?” “Most certainly. Yes to Florey, but find something more appropriate for the other three. If the House of Lords is to mean anything, then it can’t be a sinecure for captains of industry, or for union chiefs for that matter.” “You’re not a secret unilateralist, are you Prime Minister?” “No, Obo, I’ve no grudge against the Lords as an institution, nor as a house of review. Our traditions are what make us strong, when they work as intended and not as a political tool. Let the best get Life Peerages, not the rest.” “An admirable sentiment, I’m sure, Prime Minister. Now, does this change of policy extend to the Imperial Honours?” “No, in that we follow the Dominions as they see fit. I have to trust the decision of Sir William on the Canadian names, or there is no equality in our Commonwealth fellows.” “Very good, Prime Minister.” “That is a good standard and a good tradition. We keep what is right and nip in the bud that which is not. I don’t want to see knighthoods go to actors, sportsmen or coal barons, not out of disdain for their crafts, but to keep it special. Have them earn it.” “Now, on the confidential list, there are just a few names this year. A CB for Commander Bond and a KCMG for Brigadier Flashman. You can see the explanations here and here.” The Cabinet Secretary passed a sheet of vellum across the table, indicating the separate sections with his prehensile tail. “Hmmm...I can see the case for Bond, but this second chap...I’ve heard of him.” “Yes, Prime Minister, as have we all. Undoubtedly a cad, and dare I say, a bounder to boot, but this is merited in this case. It seems he did stop a war between Tibet and Shangri-La, even if it was despite himself.” “Even so, we can’t have the other sort of thing happen, not in this England. Give him a CMG and make him Governor of Pitcairn. That should cool his ardour for a bit.” “Yes, Prime Minister.”
Very good and overall I agree. I'm not sure that some figures in sport/cinema and the like might deserve honours for significant service but definitely a lot of 'perks for the boys' honours for civil servants and prominent industrial figures in their own right is unwarranted. [Now if their used their wealth and influence to help good courses a lot over a prolonged period that's a different matter.]
Barton does hold a grudge however. I know some of their ancestors were involved in a notorious mutiny but that is a very harsh and abusive treatment of the poor people of Pitcarn!
Steve
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 26, 2021 23:23:47 GMT
Steve,
It does reflect the different social attitudes at play, as well as being influenced by my own opinion. There is a very small number of sportsmen and actors who have been given knighthoods, but they are the exception to the rule and only merit consideration if there is some other very real and tangible service to society. Limiting civil service and business honours is the other side to that coin. After all, the notion of knighthood isn't entirely an abstract one on Dark Earth.
Flashman has a tendency to be sent off to the back of beyond, but ends up wriggling back.
Lordroel,
I might write it one day, but it is well back in the queue.
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Post by simon darkshade on Jan 28, 2021 13:53:30 GMT
A New Jerusalem Part 10
10 Downing Street
November 30th 1964
“No.”
“No to what, Prime Minister?”
“No to all of them. An honour has got to mean something, Obo. If they are just handed out as pats on the back for long and faithful service, then they are little more than glorified perks.”
“I see you meaning and can quite agree with the general sentiment, but a blanket approach might come across as a tad extreme.”
“I don’t mean to nix all of them, not by a long shot. If someone truly merits an OBE or the like, then they shall get it. I’m talking more to the civil servants and MPs who look upon getting a K as their rightful reward for doing their jobs.”
“This does set something of a precedent, Prime Minister.”
“I’ve no worry with that. As I said, I’ve no issue with good and proper honours. These, however,” Barton gestured at a small pile to his left “need to be rethought.”
“Very good, Prime Minister. Does this extend to the Life Peers?”
“Most certainly. Yes to Florey, but find something more appropriate for the other three. If the House of Lords is to mean anything, then it can’t be a sinecure for captains of industry, or for union chiefs for that matter.”
“You’re not a secret unilateralist, are you Prime Minister?”
“No, Obo, I’ve no grudge against the Lords as an institution, nor as a house of review. Our traditions are what make us strong, when they work as intended and not as a political tool. Let the best get Life Peerages, not the rest.”
“An admirable sentiment, I’m sure, Prime Minister. Now, does this change of policy extend to the Imperial Honours?”
“No, in that we follow the Dominions as they see fit. I have to trust the decision of Sir William on the Canadian names, or there is no equality in our Commonwealth fellows.”
“Very good, Prime Minister.”
“That is a good standard and a good tradition. We keep what is right and nip in the bud that which is not. I don’t want to see knighthoods go to actors, sportsmen or coal barons, not out of disdain for their crafts, but to keep it special. Have them earn it.”
“Now, on the confidential list, there are just a few names this year. A CB for Commander Bond and a KCMG for Brigadier Flashman. You can see the explanations here and here.”
The Cabinet Secretary passed a sheet of vellum across the table, indicating the separate sections with his prehensile tail.
“Hmmm...I can see the case for Bond, but this second chap...I’ve heard of him.”
“Yes, Prime Minister, as have we all. Undoubtedly a cad, and dare I say, a bounder to boot, but this is merited in this case. It seems he did stop a war between Tibet and Shangri-La, even if it was despite himself.”
“Even so, we can’t have the other sort of thing happen, not in this England. Give him a CMG and make him Governor of Pitcairn. That should cool his ardour for a bit.”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
................................
December 1st 1964
British Pathe Newsreel
"The romance of flight is still a rare pleasure for most of us stuck down here on Terra Firma, but for some, it seems to have become second nature. The Prime Minister only returned from his visit to the United States and Canada just the other day, but here he is back again at the special exhibition of Britain's jet airliners of the future at RAF Farnborough. Luckily this time, he's just visiting, so no need to pack a case!
Those genius boffins at the great air firms have sure come out with some whizz-bang jets. See the new behemoth from Vickers, the VC.10. Better cover your ears, Mr. Barton! Few are surprised to learn it can take over five hundred passengers on board. de Havilland's stylish swept-wing ioffering is so new that it doesn't even have a name yet, just a number - DH.150. Next up we see the elegant supersonic Handley Page HP.125 Jetstream, designed for the longest Empire routes, all in the utmost of luxury. Even Rover looks impressed!
Imagery of a madly barking Scottish Terrier and a laughing audience of dignitaries
We've all marveled at Hawker-Siddeley's revolutionary Concord and the sleek Bristol Type 250, but how about this remarkable aeroplane, the brainchild of Sir Barnes Wallis, a name which need no introduction. She's called the Swallow and although she looks like something that Captain Dan Dare should be flying off to Mars, she's actually for closer to home, such as India and the South Pacific. What a bird!
The future is in the skies - that much is plane to see!
...............................
10 Downing Street
2nd December 1964
Some of the process of a new government was tedious, some was ceremonious, some was portentous and some, altogether too rarely, was pleasant. This would be one of the last category and, although the area was not one that truly grabbed at Stanley Barton by the soul, it was an issue close to the party’s heart.
“This may not be the pot at the end of the rainbow, but the purse strings are well and truly untied, gentlemen. Your task is to see it spent as efficiently as possible. This is our opportunity to show the working men and women of this country what a Labour government can do for them.”
Both men opposite nodded in firm agreement. Tom Stephens, Minister of Social Security, was one of Barton’s young protégés and a rising star in the party, so his concurrence and loyalty was something he could thankfully take for granted, but it was eminently gratifying to have Kenneth Robinson, the Minister of Health, similarly backing him. He had a reputation for quiet competence, a fine mind and calm character that would help sell this section of the Grand Design to the key stakeholders in the NHS. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to employ a bit of tactical encouragement.
“Kenneth, you’ve got the most important part to play and I wouldn’t have anyone else doing it. We’re going to commit to spending a flat 5% of GDP on health, which will deliver a sizeable annual increase if we can win in the push for growth. You’ve also go first priority of all the domestic ministries on the sinking fund for additional capital costs.”
“We can make that work, Prime Minister, but it will take some clever manoeuvring. If we want to eliminate all prescription charges, there will be a steadily growing cost.”
“For that, we can find the money. The three big manifesto promises stand. No charge on prescription, no reduction in beds and no arbitrary limits on treatments. I’ve seen the penny pinchers try and come at all types of treatments since we established the NHS and I’ve no truck with it, no truck whatsoever. Dental, spectacles, physical therapy, even circumcision for goodness sake! They didn’t work then and we’re not having it now we’re in charge, by George!”
“What about the construction plan?”
“I’ve told Denis to find the money for our hospital building programme, so you just have to make sure we use them optimally. Your proposal about doctor’s pay and a Charter of General Practice was very sound and you’ve got my backing to start moving on it straight away.”
“Excellent. And the new drugs and machines from America I outlined?”
“Go for them. Beyond the immediate term, we need to be building them here - kidney machines, body scanners, heart starters, bone builders and even that infant monitor that goes ‘Ping!’ they showed us back during the election. I want us to be self sufficient by 1972, at the latest.”
“I’ll leave that part to my other colleagues, Prime Minister. What I can say is that my professional advisors say we’ll need more and increasingly complex machines by the year.”
“I’m no doctor, Kenneth, nor am I a scientist. We’ll make sure you get the tools; I’ll leave it to you and your department to finish the job. Now, Tom, your job is just as important. The broad outline in your memo was quite in line with both what we've committed to do and the extent to which we can do it.”
“I endeavoured to reach that blessed medium, Prime Minister. The ceilings of 3.5% are going to be middlingly difficult for the first year or so, but provided that there is no dramatic increase in unemployment, current expenditure on welfare can cover the various requirements of the major areas of National Assistance, Family Allowance and Housing Benefit. The sooner we can augment both the general old age pension and war pensions, the better, though."
"As soon as we can, Tom. If we can push for growth, we'll hit all those markers in due course. First order of business is to make sure everyone fit for work can get a job, then we fix up the pension and fund it properly; that'll free us up for more options."
"I think that is reasonably viable, Prime Minister."
"We need to under-promise and over-deliver and do it all while keeping to the plan. Once we achieve our first order of business, then we can think big. I want to eradicate poverty in this country, not just alleviate its ancillary evils. You fellows will be my key lieutenants in that."
It had gone rather well, Barton thought afterwards. His approach was to get the best men in place that he could find and give them the room to carry out their role. Working in a team was more natural to him than all this blasted grandstanding. It was all about finding the right pieces of the puzzle and letting them be put into shape; the only problem was that he alone knew what the big picture would ultimately be. Even then, it was only a shadow.
This particular part of the shadowy puzzle would be an interesting one. He had plans for a major reshaping of the very ministries of government. If Tom Stephens could handle this task, then he was the man he had in mind to head the new super Ministry, combining Social Security, Pensions, Housing and Local Government. There would be other consolidations as well, joining together Trade, Industry and Labour for one. It would all be part of the push for efficiency, for modernity and readiness.
They needed to be ready, Britain needed to be ready. He lead a nation and empire at war, both fiercely hot and icily cold. At any moment, the day might come and then the day after and the day after that, like threads in a web leading onto darkness and silence. It could be the Russians or the other business...but sufficient unto the day thereof was that particular problem. War was his major concern, but he longed for peace. Real peace, a lasting true peace that would allow them to work for a better, fairer, more compassionate society, to build the new Jerusalem.
..............................................
An address by Prime Minister Stanley Barton at Westminster Hall
November 8th 1964
“Britain today stands on the cusp. On the cusp of incredible change, on the cusp of tremendous challenge and on the cusp of great opportunity. We must take up the test that confronts us.
It is our way, it is our duty, it is our destiny.
Should we not, should we recoil into the soothing refuge of insularity, of lesser things and of comfortable mediocrity, then we betray all of the greatness of our past and of our future for the illusion of solace. We have never recoiled from challenge or glory as a nation and an Empire and we will not now.
Should we take up the challenge of the 1960s and beyond, should we take up the struggle to still be great, to be mightier yet, then we face difficult days and trying times, but beyond that, there is something new. A parting of the clouds to reveal a city of gold, a New Jerusalem for us all.
It is a better Britain.
It is a land where every child receives the best education in the world and can make the most of the finest opportunities in life. This Labour Government will build more schools than any before us and make all of the ones we have even better than they are today. We will invest in our universities to provide the scientists, technicians, engineers, doctors and experts to lead our country and Empire into the future.
It is a land where the welfare of all is provided, from the cradle to the grave. The sick, the bereaved, the orphan and all those in need shall be fully provided for and defended against privation and want. We will ensure that those in need will get all that they require to live lives of freedom, opportunity and potential. We will provide the elderly with increased pensions so that their golden years are exactly that.
It is a country where everyone can have a beautiful house well equipped with all of the modern necessities of life, keeping the ties of community and of goodness in orderly structured neighbourhoods. We are too great a nation to tolerate the existence of slums in our towns and cities and too good a nation to forget and set aside the people of our villages and countryside. We are too proud a people to be content with second best, whether it be in our roads, ports and railways or in the provision of the best quality and most affordable foodstuffs in the world.
It is a people freed from the last terrible vestiges of disease and sickness. We have made great advances since the advent of the National Health Service, but there are many more to go. We can now take the battle to new germs and new plagues and banish them to the past with smallpox and consumption. Our knights will be our doctors and nurses and our castles the hospitals of a better Britain and we must and will have more of both. Our people will live longer and live well.
It is an economy where energy to power our industry, light our streets and warm our homes will do bountiful and so cheap as make the costs of today seem only a dream in comparison. Our coal will power the world and work the steelworks and mills of our industry at home. Our oil will secure our future prosperity and security, enriching all Britons and building our great motor industry. We will harness the power of the atom as we have the waves of the ocean and use it to build a new tomorrow and to power the railways, aeroplanes and ships of today.
It is a society where the labourers, the shopkeepers and the factory workers, men and women alike, join with the owners of businesses, factories and companies to work for a fairer and more prosperous future. One where our labour unions have a seat and a say in our national plan alongside the captains of industry and finance. Our challenge is to grow - grow in wealth, grow in productivity, grow in innovation and grow in determined harmony. There is nothing that this country cannot achieve, cannot build, cannot make. We can win the future battles and wars of economy through science and through cooperation; together, we build the future we deserve.
It is these things and more, much more.
It is an Empire, not if slavery, but of those who set slaves free. It is an Empire not of walls and prisons, of barbed wire and control of minds, but of brotherhood, of freedom, of choice and of stern defence of all that is good and right. The world we live in is divided by more than economics and more than ideology, though those are great among the barriers that keep mankind divided into two worlds. It is divided by the simple idea of freedom. The British Empire has ever been built on that idea and now as we look forward to a new millennium, we must redouble our determination and our aim, strong in peace and ever willing to defend it. The battle for a better tomorrow here at home is just one part of the greater crusade for all under God’s heaven.
It is our destiny. We shall not falter, whatever the trials we face. We shall not turn from hardship or from obstacles, for we know what lies ahead. It is not enough to build a better Britain or even a better world alone. We know what we have done before and what we can do again. The future lies in the stars and we should never shirk our destiny among them.
For on the vast oceans of space, just as on the seven seas of this home, Britannia shall rule the waves.”
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lordroel
Administrator
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Post by lordroel on Jan 28, 2021 17:36:31 GMT
She's called the Swallow and although she looks like something that Captain Dan Dare Please tell me he is real. |
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could we have a list of all those people and what group they represent please as quite a collection there.