Re: Blood and Iron

Berlin, June 22nd, 1931. It had been nearly two years since Bruno first arrived in Berlin, and the barracks where Bruno was staying had all the facilities a soldier needed to maintain an optimal combat physique.

Because of this, Bruno spent the morning running, lifting weights, and training in martial arts against the facility’s bags and dummies.

After which, he would take a cold shower and have breakfast with a cup of coffee. This had been his life since the war with Japan had begun. And he had only seen his family during infrequent brief visits home.

But in the end, he always returned to Berlin. Now that he was in his later years, he was beginning to understand that it was easier when he was young and commonly deploying to foreign battlefields to be away from his family.

Despite the fact that his children were younger than, it had simply been a normal part of his life since the moment he graduated from the Academy.

But over a decade had passed since the Reich found itself embroiled in a conflict ,and though Bruno was not actually in the South Pacific fighting anymore. He was still away from home in a way demanded such a lifestyle.

Twice over the last year, especially since the introduction of his turboprop powered transport, Bruno had petitioned the Kaiser for permission to simply fly to Tyrol and Back every evening and morning.

But the Kaiser wouldn’t have it, sure the travel time may have been reduced to 50-55 minutes, but if an emergency were to occur, that was an hour that they couldn’t afford to wait for.

Because of this, Bruno was kept close in Berlin, living what he considered the “dullest deployment in the entirety of his Military Career.”

Today, like most days, Heinrich passed by Bruno’s desk on his way to his own office just two doors down, and made light of the situation with a mug of coffee in his hands.

“You know I’ve been meaning to ask. It’s been over a year since you came back. How do you enjoy life in Berlin?”

Bruno narrowed his eyes at his old friend. His silence was enough to convey his thoughts. And just when Heinrich was about to conjure a witty retort, Bruno sighed.

“If I was ten years younger, I would have told the Kaiser to suck it, and forced my way into the South Pacific to personally take charge of the war from the field…. I fucking hate this office work. I’m a field commander, not a fucking desk jockey!”

Heinrich chuckled when he heard this before sitting down in front of Bruno’s desk. Evidently he didn’t have much to do either as he looked at one of the folders lying in front of him.

“Bagong Katipunan? What the hell is that?”

Bruno looked over at the folder and groaned. It was clearly a situation he was trying to put off until after he had his coffee.

He leaned back in his chair and instinctively reached towards his coat pocket, searching for a pack of cigarettes. A habit he had kicked over a decade and a half ago.

And when he realized what had done by pure instinct, he sighed once more.

“The collective term being used for the various revolutionary groups popping up across the Philippines….”

He let his words deliberately linger as if to bait Heinrich into interrogation further, perhaps wanting to share his dread with another in a form of petty spitefulness. Whatever his reasons, Heinrich fell straight into the trap head first.

“Various revolutionary groups? There’s multiple now? What happened to Anak ng Silangan?”

Bruno couldn’t help but look at Heinrich, but his gaze was far past the man’s figure, as if he was instead visualizing history replay right before his very eyes.

Of this life, of the past timeline he had come from. All of it blending into one symphony of bloodshed and violence. As mankind was so prone to do.

“The same thing that happens to every revolutionary group if it lasts long enough, fractured, divided, multiple sub groups pop up each with their own ideology and ideas on how to run the world after they have supposedly won the war. All claiming true succession from the original. Or perhaps some older legacy still.”

Heinrich, clearly interested further in the topic opened the file and began reading, while Bruno summarized its contents to him.

“You have the Katipunan ng Bayan, also known as the KB or the Civic Front as we would call them… They operate as a legal political party in the American territory of the Philippines. Their ideology is one of general independence and anti-American sentiment.”

Heinrich looked up at Bruno, seeming to have understood a distinction.

“So they’re moderates then?”

Bruno however took a sip from his coffee, his eyes tracking Heinrich’s exact facial movements as he did so.

“In any insurgency the only difference between a moderate ideologue and an extremist one is the extremist wants to chop off your head, and the moderate wants to watch him do so. On the surface they disavow the violence, but the reality is they provide logistic, material, and moral support for the other cells fighting for a sovereign and independent Philippines.”

Heinrich didn’t comment on Bruno’s words. The man seemed to understand warfare and geo politics at a near superhuman level of comprehension and so he took his word for it.

“So, then, who are the active players?”

Bruno sighed and counted them off the top of his head.

“Currently, there’s two, and they hate each other about as much as the Americans. You’ve got Makabayang Hukbo ng Silangan aka the MHS or the Patriotic Army of the East. They’re the militant wing of the KB. They’re incredibly disciplined and well armed.”

Bruno paused to take a sip of his coffee before continuing.

“They use old weapons provided by the Japanese. Smuggled into the territory covertly by the Kempeitai, they focus exclusively on government targets. Primarily soldiers, police, and politicians who collaborate with the US government. They’re the lesser of two evils, and that’s saying a lot.”

Considering the gruesome photos of their covert activities displayed in the intelligence briefing, Heinrich was shocked to hear Bruno’s assessment of the MHS.

“So, then, who the hell are the greater of two evils?”

Bruno climbed out of his leather bound office chair and received a reel of film, which he then quickly shut his office door and pulled down the shades to allow the projector to perform its job.

The tape reeled, and Heinrich stared stoically at what it contained. A group of heavily armed men, mostly sporting old weapons from the Great war from a variety of nations.

Austro-Hungarian mannlichers, Russian mosins, and a few pre-war era German mauser c96 trench carbines.

These weapons had made their way through the black market for years and clearly had seen better days. But what was most notable was the man in the front, he like the others wore a blood red bandana with a black star painted over its center, and wielded a locally forged bolo machete.

The blade was held to the neck of a bound and gagged foreign man, one that appeared to be crying. The revolutionaries spoke in tagalong, which Heinrich didn’t understand, but the decapitation that quickly followed translated the words for him.

After the film had concluded, Heinrich looked back at Bruno with a stern gaze.

“Who was that?”

Bruno quickly identifying who in particular Heinrich was referring to stashed away his film equipment and sat back down at his seat.

“The victim? An American Tourist by the name of Tom Richards, he probably didn’t even know there was a war going on. As for the men who killed him, they belong to a group known as Katipunan ng Dugo at Laya, and before you ask, it means the Brotherhood of Blood and Freedom.”

A brief pause

” The KDL broke away from the MHS earlier this year when the Civic Front proposed a ceasefire with the Americans. As you can see, their brutality and general disregard for collateral damage, as well as their deliberate targeting of civilians for the sake of spreading fear and panic, has made us consider a new designation for such groups.”

Heinrich stared at Bruno for several moments, trying his best to process all the information he had just heard.

“And that is?”

Bruno did not hesitate. His voice was sifting and stern like the thunder in the midst of a storm.

“The term I proposed to the Kaiser and the General Staff is Terrorist Organization.”

Heinrich took one second to think through the term and nodded in approval as he did so.

“it’s catchy, but what’s the difference between a terrorist organization, and a regular revolutionary group?”

Bruno smiled upon hearing his friend’s question and was quick to enlighten him on the details.

“The lines are pretty blurred. In pragmatic reality, a terrorist organization is any violent non-state actor acting in the name of politics that we disapprove of. But if you want a definitive definition, it would be one such organization that deliberately targets civilians and other parties not involved in the conflict. And we don’t negotiate with terrorists…”

Those final words sat lingering in the room for some time, stirring the silence that would otherwise have slept quietly.

Bruno leaned back in his chair and reflected on the past and the future. He had initially thought that if he changed the timeline, things like this would be prevented from arising.

And he had done a wonderful job so far mitigating certain future risks, but unfortunately, he had not prevented the rise of terrorism in the world. It might wear a different face, wave a different banner, and follow a different ideology.

But when the people had access to arms to challenge their masters, and rage in their hearts over perceived injustices. Violence and terrorism were an inevitability, and the industrial age had made this true no matter how much Bruno tried to change the world for the better.

So… It begins… The Global War on Terror….

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