Romans, Brits, and Imperial America, Oh My!

OOC: Romans, Brits, and Imperial America, Oh my! Is my 2nd time line, yet its actually going to be in story form. PODS and back story will open themselves up in the next installments...

June 2, 1922 3:14 AM (Eastern Time)
Somewhere over the British Army Base, Mosul, British Persia.

“3…2…1… Go.” Silvio commanded.
Artur flicked the switch on the board, and breathed a sigh of relief. The explosion, only milliseconds later, rocked the Zeppelin and threw Artur from his seat. A plume of fire soared up from the base and the faint sound of a siren was apparent in the ship.
Within seconds a coinciding dozen other similar Zeppelins dropped the same cargo upon the British base. Operation Chucker was a go.

June 2, 1922 3:19 AM (Eastern Time)
2nd Armored Cavalry Division, Near Tabuk, British Arabia.

General Achilles Cristiana peered through his binoculars into the hot endless desert. Just 42 miles from where they stood was the British city of Tabuk, a major oil refinery and outpost. Just five minutes ago Roman Airships had created a divergence to the North. General Cristiana was to plunge his tank division into the Arabian Desert towards Riyadh and secure it for the Roman Empire. The British were probably unbeknownst to the fact that there country was under attack. He had just minutes to get to the city before the whole area was alerted.
The 43rd infantry were to cut off reinforcements coming from Duba, and Achilles hoped they would. He knew that his troops were undersupplied and outnumbered but he had confidence in them, and they had the advantage of surprise, for the time being. Achilles knew he had a fighters heart, and he had been named as such. A flood of nationalism swept through him and ,with a deep breath, he plunged into the heart of the enemy.

June 2, 1922 3:45 AM (Eastern Time)
London, England.

Prime Minister David Lloyd George was awoken with a stir in the midst of the night.
“Sir, we have a situation.” His advisor, Mason Andrews whispered, with a sense of urgency.
“Well…what the hell is it?” George was easily made cranky.
“Sir…I’m afraid the colonies of her Empire have been attacked.”
George spat out his coffee that Andrews handed him. “What?”
“We’re getting reports that both bases in Persia and Arabia have been attacked… We believe it was the Roman’s sir.”
“So…its war?”
“Yes sir, I believe it is.”
 
June 2, 1922 11:30 AM (Eastern Time)
National Governance Office of the United States, Presidential Hall, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

“Mr. President, I suggest you take one of the two options.” General Defense Secretary Terry O’Connor pointed out, “ I wish I could put this in lighter terms… but, to be honest Mr. President the fate of the world may very well hold on this decision.”
President Roosevelt sighed. He looked from the two folders. Folder A, with “Operation Divergence” written on the front , a folder five or so inches thick, held a 103 page hand written memo on the repercussions of entering the Great War on the side of the Unitarian Alliance.
Folder B, twice as thick, was titled “Operation Forty”. Written personally by Defense Secretary O’Connor, it dived into the ramifications of war on the side of the Anglo-Danish Alliance.
“And…you wrote these overnight Terry?” Theodore questioned.
“Yes, Mr. President. I feel immediate action on the subject is of the upmost importance.”
Roosevelt chuckled “Then when do you except me to read them.”
Mr. O’Connor said nothing. As strong as the President was, he had trouble remaining serious at times.
“And we cannot stay neutral?” Roosevelt returned to his Presidential demeanor.
“No sir… I believe that if we were to stay neutral, we would be drawn into the war in the near future. The Panama Canal might soon be the only British sea route to the Pacific. I believe that if it comes to that the SPQR will not hesitate to blockade the Canal. ”
“What was the reason for this attack Terry?
“I’m not siding with the British. It wasn’t but 12 years ago we were fighting them in Canada. This also may be a good chance for us to retake Alaska. Britain is still very dangerous and although relations with Rome are still…touchy at best I do believe there our best option. If war is to be inevitable…”

“Sir, then I suggest you call upon an emergency joint session in Congress to discuss going into the war on the side of the SPQR and declaring war on Britain.”
“I trust you Terry. Can you tell me with a straight face that I, as President of the United States, am making the best decision for my country by declaring war on a foreign nation?”
“Yes sir…I can.”
 
June 3, 1922 9:14 AM (Eastern Time)
2nd Armored Cavalry Division, Tabuk, British Arabia

Julian Allisnov ran from the tank, the fumes filled his lungs as the fire ripped through the armored cavalry. A machine gun fired down on a handful of Romans beside him as he leaped toward a ditch. He grabbed a rifle from a body beside him. An explosion rocked the dirt around him as another tank rolled through the city. He jumped from the ditch and ran forward, looking through his sites at two men in British tan just meters ahead of him.
He fired two rounds, not staying long enough to see if he hit anything before he ran into a building. Julian got down on one knee to see another tank explode just feet before him. He saw another Roman unit in front of him and ran toward it.
“Hey you!” One of the men yelled toward him, “See that building with the Union Jack? That’s the capitol building. You, and this guy,” He pointed toward one of the other men who Julian would later learn is named Mason, “You two need to clear the buildings on this street and get behind that machine gun nest. Me and Luca here are going to sprint across the street and try to link up with the 2nd armored and take the capitol but we need that nest taken down before we can do it. Can you do that soldier?”
“Yes sir!”

June 3, 1922 11:45 AM (Eastern Time)
National Congressional Building, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

“…I ask you sirs do you not recognize that the time is now to strike deep within the heart of the beast? We have no option but one, and that is to aid the Roman Empire in there quest to unearth the British beast in his unholy crusade across every continent in this earth…
The first Great War posed great things for the Republic of American States, Australia, Vancouver, Taiwan. It is time to take back what is rightfully American. Quebec, Ontario, Alaska is Americas right as a nation.
President Zachary Taylor created this great ideal of Manifest Destiny on the right that the U.S must spread from sea to shining sea, from Argentina to Northwest Territory. Well I appeal to you that this Destiny has not yet been met. You sirs, this is your chance to help us make history…. Help me meet Taylor’s dream and declare war on the sun that never sets. Declare war on the British Empire.” President Roosevelt concluded his speech and left the podium in the congress, where he was met with a roaring applause.
“Mr. President”, an aid approached him, “We have news… The King is dead.”
“That’s…unfortunate. Give my sister my condolences and hope for a great rule from our new Queen.”
“Your sister sir…Bamie has declined to serve as Queen. And sir, with King Washington dead there are no heirs…Mr. President, you’re the King of the United States.”

June 7, 1922 2:15 PM (Eastern Time)
Kings Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

“THE KING IS DEAD.LONG LIVE THE KING!”
Roosevelt was anointed the crown upon his head. The Monarch of the United States was little more then a figure head, but Roosevelt had made another piece of history. Being on the 2nd U.S President, since George Washington I, to be named King of the United States. This began the house of Roosevelt, and ended the house of Washington (Which, since 1799 was actually the House of Custis-Lee, yet every King, due to the Custis-Lee familys direct relation to Washington, had taken the name Washington). Roosevelt thought that, although the title of King held superiority over that of Mr. President, he preferred the latter and would decline to be called King.

March 15, 2011 2:14 PM (Eastern Time)
American Broadcasting Station, New York, New York
 
“…And today by a vote of 386-49 the Vote was passed in the House and War was declared on the United Kingdom. The vote was garnered support by President Roosevelt’s stirring speech Saturday. The Liberty Party was able to vote in unison, taking all 307 votes from there party. The Democrats proved split on the issue, with 26 of the votes against war coming from there party.”
The commentator concluded the broadcast over the radio to take a swig of his coffee. A page ran into the room and put a piece of paper on his desk.
“VICE PRESIDENT JOHN W. WEEKS SHOT IN WEST JORDAN, DESERET. NEW ZION FRONT, RADICAL MORMON INDEPENDENCE GROUP, THOUGHT TO BE BEHIND ATTACK. SHOOTER YET TO BE IDENTIFIED.”

June 15, 1922 6:33 AM
2nd Armored Cavalry Divison, Duba, British Arabia

General Achilles Christiana stared up at the Roman Flag, a mix of the flag of the old Empire, and the New Holy Roman Flag of the 1800’s resurgence. It flew proud over the oil town of Duba as eastern Arabia continued to fall.
“Further south, we have to go. The British are vulnerable, its time to strike.” Achilles told his men. They were tired, vulnerable themselves. But the British were torn on two fronts…

June 15, 1922 11:11 AM
St. Margarets Bay, Halifax, British Canada

January Teauge was with her daughter, out for a walk on a beautiful Summer day. A Mosquito like sound was followed by an iron ball smashing onto the ground. A yellow gas seeped from the earth and January’s eyes watered. The sirens sounded, too little too late as she and her daughter, along with those around them, succumbed to the mustard gas. Boots hit the ground as American soldiers wearing gas masks fired upon British guards. January threw up upon herself as she covered her face her skirt and reached for her daughter. She crawled through the yellow gas as she reached through what looked like her daughter. Her hand reached out toward it as she screamed as loud as she could. Her head hit the ground as she blacked out and the shrewd sound of American rifles engulfed the town…
 
"What did you do to kill the butterflies?"

Seriously, a world with a Roman Empire (and the sort identified as the SPQR) but having anything like OTL events is...well...

Yeah.

On the other hand, its an interesting read.
 
"What did you do to kill the butterflies?"

Seriously, a world with a Roman Empire (and the sort identified as the SPQR) but having anything like OTL events is...well...

Yeah.

On the other hand, its an interesting read.

The PODS will unveil themselves...
Its not a surviving SPQR Rome but a "I declare myself Roman Emperor" Kind of Rome. The Whom, what, when, where, why, and how's of the TL will soon be revealed.
 
i hope so as this timeline is really confusing me as how you have a monarchist america and imperial rome all in the same timeline, maybe you should show us a map of this world make things easier
 
July ?, 1922
Written some where in Northern Finland

Dearest Alexis,

The winter of Finland rivals that of the Mountains of Siberia.I can barely feel my fingers to write you this letter, let alone handle a weapon. Although I know this might never reach you, I hope some how you know I am alive and thinking of you. I find myself thinking of you every day.
We were in Suolt, Finland until yesterday, when Finnish nationalists routed us. I believe our cause is moot, but we are fighting on other wise. I stand not alone when I say the Bolshevik cause is wavering in my heart. I have seen atrocities no human should see in there life time. I have seen commanders send thousands of troops towards firing lines to be shot down. Desertion , the only way to survive, seems to result in being shot.
They want to use Finland as a jumping off point for a greater Russian Revolution. There is word of revolutions in Helsinki, as the Nationalists and Finnish Communists are tearing the city apart. I see no reason to fight for forests and hills while there is a battle for the heart of Finland going on in the capitol, but I dare not question our commanders and be labeled an enemy of the Revolution. Russian Czarists and Finnish Nationalists are sprinkled across the north, but I wonder what they want as well. The cold is as likely to kill any of us as enemy guns, and I’m likely soon to up and leave back to Moscow. I’d rather die starving under a Czarist regime in Russia rather then by frost bite or being shot in Finland.
I do hope I see you again Alexis. I hope I will be back soon, and If anything, I will do it for you.

Love,
Dmitri
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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