What if Britain won the War of Indepedance? Mar 12, 2018 16:31:38 GMT -5 The Anarchist and Kyle Shane like this
Post by Tyler Scott on Mar 12, 2018 16:31:38 GMT -5
In 1784, the British held off the rising revolt of the colonies of America. There was no birth of the United States - only an expansion of the greatest empire in the history of civilisation - the British empire.
Six weeks earlier, ships finished their stormy Atlantic journey by landing in the port of Halifax. Commander Scott had marched his legion of British troops from Nova Scotia into Brunswick and through the regions of New England to Saratoga.
The Americans, lead by General Michaels and his trusty lackey Lieutenant Matthews, had gained intelligence that the British were coming and were ready for them. They sat, entrenched on the outskirts of the Saratoga settlement, lying in wait for a surprise attack to topple their colonial masters.
However, there was to be no surprise attack for the British were cunning. The riches of the Empire paid many a spy and informant. The British had a constant stream of scouts on horseback marauding between the townships of New England, paying local villagers for their knowledge and relaying the messages back to their commanding officer. Commander Scott heard of General Michaels’ plan to attack them just north of Saratoga. He learnt of their enemy’s exact position and adjusted his battle plan accordingly. Instead of following his original route along the flat agricultural plains, he would instead take the longer route up and over the valley. The British would descend on the their American foes from the side, flanking them and smashing into their stronghold at its weakest point.
The British, dressed in claret red coats, depicted a sea of blood. As each wave of infantry shuffled forwards - the crimson tide moved in on American positions.
Meanwhile the Americans, a cobbled together army of soldiers, militia, rednecks and hillbillies wore a range of uniforms. These ranged from a blue uniform coats for the horse-back elite to torn hessian vests for frontline hillbilly cannon-fodder.
Wielding muskets tipped with sharpened blades, the British were better equipped than their enemies whose muskets were without bayonets. Whilst the artillery on both sides was equally as loud and powerful, should the battle come down to close-combat warfare, the Americans would not stand a chance. Their best hope was that the British would exhaust all of their ammunition first and allow the Americans to pick them off. But the Americans had no idea of how well stocked their opponents were. How could General Michaels plan and resource his army effectively without knowing the full extent of what Commander Scott had at his disposal?
The Americans hid and waited, ready to spring a surprise attack. General Michaels looked out across the land, expecting the British to appear on the horizon at any time. A deadly quiet fell upon the thousands of his men, as they readied themselves to strike. Suddenly, Lieutenant Matthews saw something in the corner of his eye. A red flash appears from the woodland and charged down the hillside. Matthews screamed to alert his General of the blindside attack. Michaels tried desperately to redeploy his troops, but they were too slow to wheel around in attack positions.
Commander Scott, atop his mighty grey stead, was at the point of the arrow, with his senior staff right behind him. Musketeers followed, firing whilst moving. As they reloaded, the next wave ran to the front, maintaining the siege. Musket balls rained down on the American forces, obliterating enemy forces. The British commanders smashed into the American lines, with swords drawn. Where the American soldiers were not trampled by the horse, their heads and necks were slashed by the British blades.
American blood stained the green grass of Saratoga. The Americans were outsmarted and outfought. On the high ground above the battlefield, the two leaders looking out over the battlefield.
A sea of Mass Destruction lay before them.
General Michaels looked around him - the valley littered with the bodies of fallen men - more comrades than enemies - killed as collateral in a power struggle between two egotistical leaders.
Michaels was surrounded by the British troops, headed by Commander Scott on horseback. Scott looked down at his battle beaten foe, unfastened his boots from his stirrups and slid off his horse.
At his feet, Justin Michaels kneeled in the squelchy bloody mud. He looked up with a snarl, defiant to the last - but he knew that the game was up and the battle lost.
Commander Scott brushed off the musket ash from his medals and stood proudly above his fallen enemy - victorious.
“North America has always been a colony of the United Kingdom and so it shall remain. Go back to your Congress. Tell your people - Commander Tyler Scott rules this land.”
Fast forward to 2018. Over 230 years have past since the British repelled the American uprising.
There are no United States of America. Only a handful of expansive country-sized colonies spann the entire breath of North America. New England remains in the North-East and has became incredibly populous, with Portland becoming the new colony capital. New York stretches south to Virginia. Virginia stretches all the way to the Caribbean Sea. The central dusty rocky wastelands are left largely uninhabited with native tribes left to their own devices. On the west, the colony of Oregon extends the entire coast from British Columbia to Mexico in the south.
Land north of New England was acquired by the British after they displaced the French. Quebec was renamed New Acardia and stretched half way to the the Pacific coast where it met British Columbia. Nova Scotia was later rebranded to New Scottland. The second ‘t’ was added as a gesture of gratitude to Commander Scott for his heroics at the Battle of Saratoga. He returned to Halifax where he ruled with freedom of dominion across the entire region until his retirement.
Mexico remained under Spanish rule until 1810 before claiming independence. The United Kingdom became a welcoming neighbour and strong ally of Mexico. They welcomed Latin Americans over the border. The combined Colonies of North America provide ample job prospects for a Mexican to follow their ‘British Dream’ - usually culminating in mowing lawns and cleaning toilets - not to different to their future if America had won the war.
The capital of the Virginia colony has changed many times over two centuries as populations swelled and strategic locations required fortifying. Washington, Richmond and Norfolk have all shared the honours. But, most recently, Greensboro holds the title due to its fairly central location down the east coast. After the British established a series of major ports, they moved inland and set up a metropolis at the pivot between busy trade routes.
Today, this is the residence of the ruler of the North America Colonies - King Tyler.
By his side, his faithful servant Justin.
All across the land, from Atlantic to Pacific Oceans, Americans sip Earl Gray tea and nibble on cream scones.
“Justin...” King Tyler summons “I wish to take a stroll to view my kingdom”.
“Certainly Sir. Where would you like to go today?” Justin asks, eager to please.
“I think I shall go down to the town square. You can stay here and watch the cat."
“But Sir, I don’t like the cat. He always scratches me" Justin voices his displeasure.
“Justin, don’t be so dramatic. You are creating a Stormm in a teacup. Just do as you are told. Besides, it’s very funny to watch you nearly get your eye scratched out.” Tyler chuckles at Justin’s pain “Now bring me my Crown Jewels."
Justin shuffles across to the plinth where the gleaming jewels of North America - an array of precious gems found and pillaged from the continent, held together by the highest quality carat of gold. He lifts the jewels from the velvety cushion with a covetous stare. He turns to look back at his master. King Tyler dips his head expecting the jewels to be placed upon his head.
Justin knows what he should do but he hesitates. For a moment he imagines what it would be like to wear the jewels on his own head. He briefly thinks how it would feel to be the King of North America. But he is bought back to reality.
“Justin, I am waiting.” King Tyler says with his head still dipped.
The glorious thoughts disappear and Justin is left staring at the regal bald head of his master. With a grimace of realisation, Justin extends his arms out and places the Crown Jewels upon the head of King Tyler, with the snuggest of snug fits.
“Thank you Justin. You are dismissed.”