Revolution's Heart #5: Carving Up the Corpse Before It Cools
Even before the war had fully ground to a halt, the faces of Europe's great powers—Britain, France, Italy, America(?), and Korea(??)—lit up with excitement just at the sight of one another. They decided to convene first in London.
With America now in the fray and tanks rumbling across the battlefields, clashing head-on, everyone had a rough gauge of each other's strength. From here on, strategy wouldn't decide the war; industrial might would. That industry, channeled through logistics into combat projection and deployed on the front lines, would seal the fate of the conflict. They all sensed it.
If another war came—and in everyone's mind here, it would be total war—our infantry-bound Germany was doomed. Even without tanks, future wars and supply lines would demand trucks over trains. But who was to blame for Germany lacking oil to fuel those trucks? The truck problem came before tanks. And America had trucks and oil in spades. Not to mention a loud voice. Germany? Trucks and oil? Zero. "Run your charcoal carts," they sneered.
But then a minor snag arose.
"Germany... and then what?"
Everyone here agreed on one thing: no second Great War. Right now, united in anti-German fervor, they were of one mind. But even among them, cracks appeared immediately. For starters, their estimates of each other's national strength didn't align. Naturally, opinions diverged.
America wanted to huddle first with the oil-rich nations. They were itching to discuss the post-Anglo-Korean Alliance world. America had grasped that battleships were out; oil was the new core of hegemony. So even without the Alliance, they wanted a hand in the Middle East from Britain and Korea. Naturally, those two turned a blind eye and deaf ear.
The duo saw themselves as stronger than America—much stronger. They'd concede battleships before oil. So while France and Italy yapped alongside America, they just shrugged: Eh, whatever.
'Fucking hell, what pains in the ass.'
The Supreme Leader ran into unwelcome faces in London after a long absence.
"Long time no see, Balfour Foreign Secretary."
"A pleasure."
But it wasn't just America versus Britain. This gathering was precisely to hash out a preliminary consensus on the defeated Germany. In that sense, Britain, America, and the Korean Empire saw eye to eye: no second round. They'd floated appeasement toward Germany.
France and Italy thought differently. France craved revenge for the Franco-Prussian humiliation; Italy figured hardline policies meant more gains for them. Britain had its own hawks pushing hardlines too, so Italy stepped up as Britain's rage interpreter.
'We must partition Germany!'
'Erase unified Germany from the map!'
Above all, they doubted half-baked appeasement wouldn't just lead to the Soviets gobbling Germany if war reignited. They opposed it—vehemently.
The Korean Empire opposed it too. No way they wanted to hand the Soviets a taste for German flesh.
In the end, America backed off, pivoting to hardline. Korea and Britain acquiesced. They heartily endorsed the significance of a naval disarmament treaty post-partition.
Korea alone tossed in a side note: Korea and Japan were separate issues; Japan needed tonnage limits too. They'd even cut their own if necessary.
America was the peacemaker ending the war. If they chased peace through hardlines, what could you do?
But one nation they could handle: the absent Soviets. Right now, Soviet politics were steered by revolutionaries from across the globe. Exiled by the Tsar, they'd become Russia's elder statesmen in his absence. And they had no intention of continuing the Tsar's poison war.
They just wanted to end it. But they held off for one reason: Korea, whose voice in war matched the Red Army's might, begged them not to.
'Ceasefire now, and you make enemies of Britain, France, and America!'
Why turn them hostile when you still had much to gain? Korea shrugged off Soviet nationalization of French-built railways or collectivizing farms. But diplomatic isolation? They recoiled at the thought, hypersensitive to it.
Korea's stance against the pro-German faction's brainless ceasefire push stemmed from that.
Yet the pro-Germans, holding the largest bloc in the Soviet power structure, favored Germany. They dreamed of Soviet-German unity outside war.
Naturally, end the war first. Korea understood their expansionist urges but warned it'd earn them the cold shoulder from Germany, Britain, France, and America.
Beyond that, both Korea and Soviet leadership hesitated on another issue: Poland.
The old Polish-Lithuanian territories' Lithuanian parts had reverted to Russia, but Poland proper remained under German occupation. Soviet Poles demanded its return, war or peace.
That alone might be manageable. The real problem followed.
'Those Polish bastards are gonna go independent, right?'
'Inevitably.'
The current Soviet Union was a proletarian federation empire where anyone could secede. Satellites like Finland, the Baltic Alliance, and Kazakhstan could bolt anytime. A new Poland would too.
So if Germany returned occupied Poland—by any means—would they choose independence or stay in the USSR?
Most leadership, especially pro-Germans, bet on independence. Even pro-Poles figured the same. The Tsar or empire demanded Polish loyalty; oppressed proletarians thought differently.
Poland's geography was key. Without it, no Soviet-German union. Independent Poland? The Soviets couldn't crush it—they weren't oppressors like the Tsar.
So they stayed mum.
Then came the news: German partition. Their second homeland, carved into thirds and tossed away.
Soviet pro-Germans realized their affection for Germany ran deeper than expected. Did it have to go this far?
They'd nearly lost half to Korea, nearly seen Britain and France land in Ukraine. They knew how unfair this was. Something was wrong.
Killing and dying with Germany was tragic, but blame the Tsar and Kaiser—bastards both. Wrong was wrong.
Fallen Eastern Front Russians would rise from twisted hells hearing that. But Soviet pro-Germans, fresh from Germany, believed Soviet-German unity was historical destiny. Russia be damned; the Soviets needed it.
So they approached their closest ally: Korea.
'Sell oil to Germany?'
'Bread too.'
'No ceasefire?'
'No.'
'Good. Let's do it.'
Britain and France be damned; Korea didn't see Soviets isolating without a ceasefire. With Germany growling at Britain and France, Russia was indispensable.
Germany ruined or partitioned? Then isolation.
Soviet isolation wasn't from French railways, Lend-Lease grabs, or rejecting Marshall Plan. That's forced fit. Germany fell—or seemed to—so Soviets were next. Bully logic.
Korea didn't block Soviet oil/bread sales to Germany. Instead, framed as humanitarian aid to Poles in German zones. Britain, France, America twist it? So what? Germany embezzling oil for coal was on them—not Soviets.
To boost Soviet leverage, Korea cut Italian oil routes and Swiss roads. Now Germany revived on Soviet bread and oil. Italy withered.
Kaiser'd need a square mustache not to invade Soviets now.
'America's in too. If the West slaughters another decade, perfect.'
Now Britain and France dragged full armies, colonies bowed. But those armies sacrificed economy. Their colonies? Korea pumped water, power, coal, engines—industrializing fast.
War ends, armies disband: colonies rise. Hate it? Full armies again. Post-war? Vicious cycle. Economies just stretching, shoved back to barracks. No good.
Even kebab countries got fleeced.
So when they begged disarmament, Korea said: comply quietly. Rejecting it risked their Asian military adventures.
Post-war, Soviets spread revolution in Eastern Europe (their colonies). Britain/France pull from Asia, Middle East, Africa—in that order.
No bandwidth for distant Korea amid Soviet windmills whirling in the East. They'd salvage their economies first.
'They lose projection power; Korea sacrifices its own for it.'
The Supreme Leader inked the post-war battleship disarmament treaty, as demanded by America and Britain.