China 2015 ISOT by Syipinc Part 13-20

...PLA...September...1915...


Whilst the western powers of 2015 loved to portray the PLA as a bunch of uneducated mindless goose stepping automatons with two functional words in their vocabulary consisting of 'Charge' and 'Kill', the truth of the matter is, the officers of the PLA are every bit as competent as their western counterparts if not more so.


It's in the nature of the American military apparatus to belittle and dehumanise their opponent, because shooting a human shaped object generically labelled 'hajji', is much easier than having to shoot a flesh and blood human being called Fahoud, or Ali...or maybe even George...however, dehumanising your enemy has a pretty deleterious effect in that you begin to totally underestimate your enemy and what they can achieve.


Like, for instance, your enemy has a brain...and is quite possibly more intelligent than you are.


The PLA has, unlike the Americans, never really had to fight a 'real' war.


The simple reason why, is that the 'modern' PLA has trained itself in the years up to 2015 to avoided having to apply violence as a means of resolving dispute. If you know your enemy, then you can win without having to fight.


This wasn't always true.


Prior to Tiananmen Square, the PLA was a much less professional body inspired by the Soviet era doctrines whose ability to resolve issues amounted to a wooden mallet liberally applied to the skulls of dissenters. In the aftermath of 1989, the PLA leadership took a good hard look at themselves, and had one of those life changing epiphany moments upon realising they were training to fight a war fought in 1918 with 'Soviet' doctrines which had been obsolete when Lenin was news.


The PLA officer corps was quietly overhauled, and new doctrines emerged over the decades as a consequence.


While the West observed the military build up of all branches of the PLA with alarm, the true change the Western military should have been worried about, had gone totally unobserved as it was presumed by the western military elite that the goose stepping slogan chanting PLA officer corps were the same as yesteryear.


Now, had the orders from the Politburo been issued to the pre-1989 PLA, they'd have obeyed without question...fortunately, the new generation of PLA officer had grown up in the interim to 2015, and these did question the wisdom of the orders to withdraw from the fortifications safeguarding China from the enemies beyond, and the intent to extermiate the IJA with extreme prejudice.



The PLA had trained its officers to think...so the PLA thought, and ended up rejecting 'The Plan' forwarded by the Politburo as unworkable over the long term.


The issue was, the Imperial Japanese Army were INDOCTRINATED to take unreasonable numbers of casualties which would cripple and destroy any comparable military formation, and literally fight to the last man.


A false retreat luring a large portion of the IJA into an artillery kill zone as proposed by the Politburo, would just piss off the Japanese survivors and make them more fanatical. The loss of life would also cause a hardening of attitudes towards China and cause more aggression down the line...no, while China would ultimately have the moral high ground in being the one assaulted, it was clearly the wrong path to take.


The PLA put their heads together, and came up with a new plan with somewhat less...bloody outcomes.


Redacted #2 was quite proud of the new plan, when presented to his inner circle comrades in the Politburo, and it was agreed that the new plan should go ahead.


It probably says something how demented and nefarious 'The Plan' to resolve the Japanese problem camping out on the Korean Peninsula was, that the Politburo kept bursting out in giggling fits for the next week.

* * *
...Siberia...October...1915...


Being sent to Siberia was an euphemism for being sent into exile in the Imperial Russian court, and it could be construed as the final resting place of those whom had fallen out of favour with the Tsar.


The new Siberia Special Administrative Zone was jointly controlled by Chinese and Russian officers as outlined by the Treaty of Friendship and Co-operation the Tsar had signed with the strange new Chinese.


The arrival of the new Chinese had changed the importance of being assigned a Siberian posting, even if much of the social stigma remained. A large part of the munitions keeping the Imperial Russian Army supplied was being manufactured by the Chinese, and even more valuable new cannon which the Army at the front was in terribly short supply of.


Then there was the Chinese made kit and Mosin Nagant rifle made to standard Russian pattern, which was keeping the Army warm in the trenches whilst holding off the Germans. Siberia was more than vital to the Imperial Russian war effort, Siberia and the Chinese was critical...though, there was a singular lack of volunteers wanting to be posted to Siberia.


The newly promoted Captain Uri Pavlovich of the Imperial Russian Guard had been volunteered by his peers to the newly advertised post, after they'd celebrated his promotion by getting him drunk as a skunk on Vodka prior to what Uri had believed to be a posting to a Guard company at the front...by the time Uri's robust Russian constitution was mostly detoxed of alcohol poisoning, he'd already been while semi conscious, unceremonious carried aboard one of the oddly utilitarian Chinese cargo aircraft which made the daily shuttle run to Moscow, and was halfway cross the country back to the new Siberian Special Administrative Zone with freshly drafted orders stuffed into his great coat.


As the newly minted Captain roused from his alcohol induced coma to squint at the illegible words trying to crawl off the paper on his orders through a pounding headache, Uri Pavlovich vowed that when he got back west, his fellow Guard officers whom had put him up to the backwater posting were going to die in a most bloody Russian fashion worthy of the legendary Ivan the Terrible, a most gruesome number of deaths which would make a squad of hardened Cossacks piss their breeches.


“Oh, you're alive ?,” came the accented Russian, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”


“Urgh,” Uri grunted, looking at the nudge to find a...well, an odd clear plastic bottle of what looked to be water held out to him.


“Have some water or that headache you've got will make you feel like dying is a mercy.”


Uri took the bottle of water, squinted at the unfamiliar mechanism and decided it was some kind of screw cap like a standard issue canteen. The plastic cap came off and Uri thirstily slugged down half the bottle.


“Hurrh,” Uri groaned, cupping his head with his free hand and knocking his officer's cap off onto the aircraft floor, “God, oh God, the Merciful...make the pain go away.”


“Here,” the helpful fellow passenger handed Uri's hat back to him.


“Spasiba...who are you ?,” Uri asked, trying to make out the man helping him.


“Colonel Chen Hwuan of the People's Liberation Army, Engineers Corps on special detachment to the Imperial Russian Guard for deployment to the new Siberian Special Administrative Zone...and your commanding officer, apparently,” the Colonel replied.


Uri's eyes flew open and he stiffened in an attempt to stand and salute, his efforts culminated in him clutching his officer's cap and shoving his face into it, “Bleuuurgh.”


It was, Uri decided as he dry heaved, not a good way to meet one's superior officer.

* * *
...Korea...October...1915...


It was a still moonless night and high over the Asian landscape, a massive fleet of PLA transport aircraft of all assorted shapes and sizes droned towards targets in Korea in formation, position lights blackened and reliant on radar to keep separation. The PLA Air Force had practically emptied out the arsenal for what everyone had come to know as...'The Plan'...


Usually spoken in suppressed tones least the speakers break out in spontaneous giggles or outright infections downright evil laughter at what was to befall the unsuspecting Japanese in the camps occupying Korea – there had been at least three cases of hospitalisation from hysterical laughter rupturing something, but the casualty rate amongst the PLA Aerial component of The Plan was expected to be light to non-existent.


Jet fighters were standing by on the tarmac with their pilots wired and waiting for the word, but if all went as planned, then they wouldn't be needed – they were overkill as the Asian sky of 1915 was void of aircraft, not that any of the aircraft in use outside the PLA had a hope of catching even the slowest transport aircraft of the PLA fleet heading into Korea.


It was the lack of air opposition or countermeasures combined with 'perfect' still atmospheric conditions which made 'The Plan' possible at all.


A slightly more technological enemy or a fickle accident of nature would have made the The Plan horribly risky, forcing the PLA to resort to more conventional means to subdue the Imperial Japanese Army camping out around Korea...but that was not the enemy the PLA would face tonight.


Inside the cargo hold of one of the hundreds of propeller driven aircraft which were splitting off to their assigned targets, on a Shaanxi Y8, Flight Engineer Lian Sha sat with five other specialists whom all wore the full PLA issue NBC kit.


While Lian Sha couldn't see their faces underneath the full face masks, he was certain they were as excited as he was...and likely wearing barely suppressed shit eating grins like he was trying to wipe off his lips.


The cargo hold was occupied by a large steel tank, it's contents prominently marked by multiple biochemical hazard symbols which kind of made what was about to happen to the unsuspecting people on the land below, something of a war crime...the PLA had explained 'The Plan' and warned strenuously, that if there were anyone whom possessed objections of conscience who did not wish to participate, then they were free to stand down with no recriminations.


There had been no objections.


In fact, there'd been a kind of giddy savage joy that PLA crew had been begging and trying to bribe their way onto the PLA air fleet, for it was a historic occasion which would address some rather deep seated issues staining the Chinese psyche.


The blare of the warning siren made everyone jump to their feet and clip in safety lines as the aircraft descended and straightened out, the siren changed tone and Lian Sha put his hand on the valve on the steel tank at his position – the expectant Chinese crew stood by.


Then the siren stopped, and burped three times.


“GO ! GO ! GO,” Lian Sha shouted, his voice muffled by the respirator, but the crew knew what they had to do.


Release valves were spun open, and from special nozzles attached under the wings of the the Shaanxi Y8, a fine aerosol began to spray and plume behind the aircraft as it slowly drifted down to the ground...and the Japanese army camp below.


* * *


Captain Hu Xian looked up as the drone of propeller driven aircraft flew overhead in the dark 1915 moonless sky, a drone which could only be attributed to PLA aircraft as the Japanese had no aerial vehicles.


The captain looked to his team of special operatives garbed in PLA NBC gear, whom had penetrated deep into Korean territory like so many other special operation teams to fulfil their part of The Plan. Their task as scouts was critical to the success or failure of the entire operation, because they were there to monitor the cargo which the PLA aircraft had deployed overhead.


“We got positive,” the man on the hand held sensor said in an excited hushed whisper into the microphone, the kneeling Spec Ops team around arrayed around him with assault rifles ready, “Climbing...climbing...threshold, we've got threshold...climbing, it's good, we've got good coverage, density by two...by three....by four...by five...coverage is density five.”


“Five ?,” Hu Xian queried softly.


“Five...more than enough,” the sensor man replied solemnly...then inexplicably, “Hee hee hee hee hee.”


That pretty much set the rest of the Spec Ops team off in a very unprofessional giggling fit, not that it stopped them from reaching their objective, the Japanese army camp which had gone very silent.


* * *


“For what we are about to do, let us be truly grateful,” General Bui Lei looked intently at the radio operator as the clock ticked down, and like everyone else in the massive PLA assault force, was kitted out in full NBC kit.


The general was quite tensed as he stood in the helicopter borrowed from the PLA Navy, which was still outfitted for anti submarine warfare. The entire PLA helicopter force had been stripped for The Plan, but here was so much which could go wrong which could cost the PLA lives.


“We have signal from the scouts...aerosol density is over minimum threshold...density is holding at five times minimum,” the radio operator said after tensed pauses, her slightly muffled voice trembling with suppressed energy, “Scout says coverage is nominal, I repeat, coverage is nominal.”


General Bui Lei closed his eyes, the moment had come...then he stood as heroically as was possible while festooned in NBC coverals and respirator, “In the name of all PRCs, Launch !”


A hundred helicopters took off, leapfrogging over the hundreds of APCs and IFVs of the PLA which were already speeding to the border, yells and screams of excitement muffled by respirators.


The Plan was underway.


* * *
...Korea...October...1915...


Captain Hu Xian slowly approached the Japanese army camp with his team. Even with automatic weapons, they were horribly outnumbered by the Japanese...but given the fact the Japanese guards were slumped over their weapons fast asleep from the fast acting sporific now blanketing the area, it was unlikely there would be much in the way of resistance.


Still, that didn't mean the spec ops team dispensed with caution as they quickly trotted past the obliviously snoring guards to the barracks where they opened all doors and openings, just to make sure the sporific had sufficiently penetrated and circulated.


The fast asleep Japanese were completely at the mercy of the Chinese spec ops team, whom quickly identified the officers whom were staying in better quality individual quarters than packed together like the noncoms and grunts.


Captain Hu Xian drew his knife as he stood over the deeply sleeping Japanese captain, he glanced at his men then nodded, “I can handle things here, you know what to do and we've limited time to accomplish it before our ride out gets here.”


The Spec ops team saluted with suppressed sniggers, then drew their knives and headed to the barracks.


Captain Hu Xian couldn't help himself as his knife descended upon the unconscious Japanese officer, and began laughing in a diabolical fashion as he began slashing...


* * *


No sooner had the PLA helicopter touched down than it disgorged its cargo of NBC warfare clad PLA troops, whom dispersed into the surrounding barracks and began opening doors to let the sporific laden air in.


More helicopters were landing, disgorging more NBC garbed PLA as General Bui Lei set foot on Korean soil. The general looked around, the night lit up by lights the PLA had brought with them as they proceeded to carry out The Plan.


Japanese rifles were brought out stacked for thermite demolition while everything else of a flammable nature were dumped on top in a pile to be burned in a big bonfire. Quite a few Japanese officer swords were taken as souvenirs by opportunistic troops, but The Plan had required that all weapons be destroyed or made dysfunctional, so General Bui Lei didn't mind.


Well, The Plan required that anything of use to the Imperial Japanese Army be destroyed...including uniforms. The general noted with bubbling mirth that his men – and some women though it was difficult to make out gender under the NBC gear, were stripping down the unconscious guards down.


By the time the PLA finished, it was intended that the IJA in Korea wouldn't have so much as a fundoshi to hide behind. Naked Japanese men were carried out of barracks and unceremoniously dumped at a safe distance as the sweating giggling and laughing PLA troops efficiently began dousing the barracks.


It took a remarkably short amount of time to destroy everything.


However, there was one final aspect of The Plan which would cripple the Japanese chain of command in Korea.


General Bui Lei turned to his aid, a petite young woman, “Is it done ?”


“Yes, it is done,” the aid confirmed, “The officers have been taken care of.”


General Bui Lei smiled as he watched the PLA fire the barracks, “Very well, lets get out of here, our job is done.”


With that, the PLA troops retreated, leaving behind total devastation both material and morale.


In Imperial Japanese army camps across Korea, like scenes were repeated as the Imperial Japanese Army was systematically neutered without even being aware of their enemy running rampant through their ranks.

* * *
...China...October...1915...


The inner circle of the Politburo waited as the clock ticked down, and The Plan was under way. The Politburo nervously exchanged looks with each other as the computer graphics on the wide screen display updated with icons gliding over the Korean Peninsula.


The Aerial units...deployed the package.


Then the massed icons of the PLA went into Korea, some by air but most by ground.


(Redacted) #3, “This is evil of us...we should be ashamed of ourselves.”


(Redacted) #2, “The PLA was right, you know. Killing the Imperial Japanese Army like we originally planned would only have pissed them off and given them the kind of warrior's death their culture wants and respects...this way, we aren't exactly invading and not really killing anyone either, so all they've got going for them is mortified embarrassment.”


(Redacted) #1, “Humiliation is a powerful deterrent where death is martyrdom.”


(Redacted) #4, “Recovering from this kind of 'defeat' is going to be near impossible. Japanese militaristic fanaticism of the kind which happened to us in our timeline, may never get a foothold in Japanese culture after this embarrassment.”


(Redacted) #3, “What if it does and they convince the rest of the sword waving lunatics to come after us ?”


(Redacted) #5, “Well, I doubt it...not after the glue.”


Pause, Politburo bursts out in raucous laughter.

* * *
...Korea – The Morning After...October...1915...


“Miho, you're so tight,” Lieutenant Shiro Ikari moaned softly as he snuggled into the wonderful warmth, his hands feeling for his wife's breasts and encountering...feathers ?


There was a pause as the young IJA Lieutenant tried to make sense of the incongruity, however, his drowsy mind was interrupted by the very familiar voice of Captain Gendo Matsui.


“BA – KA – YA – ROO HENTAI !”


Lieutenant Shiro's Ikari's eyes flew open wide to discover the backside he was doing belonged to his Captain, and said Captain was covered in feathers where shortly after the confused young Lieutenant could only perceive stars from the Captain's feather clad fist impacting on his face.

“AAAAARRGH !,” Gendo Matsui screamed in manful pain as he detached himself from his junior officer's gluey embrace, the tearing pain flaring from his backside brought manful tears to his eyes as he staggered upright, and laid eyes on his command, where upon another scream of manly anguish escaped his lips upon seeing the smouldering ruins, “AAAAAAGH ! AAAAAAGH !”


“Captain,” a very naked cupping Sergeant Yoshiaki cupping his privates interrupted as he carefully averted his eyes from his superior's feather clad manlinesss with something which looked suspiciously like a desperate need to burst out in hysterical giggles, “Everything's gone...what do we do ?”


The naked IJA soldiery cupping themselves with sheepish expressions behind the sergeant carefully averted the eyes from the Captain and the starfished sprawled Lieutenant Shiro Ikari whom the Captain had evidently just punched out.

If anyone asks, they weren't laughing - it was just respectfully looking away while examining the beauty of the Korean countryside which brought smirks to faces.

Captain Gendo Matsui could only respond in a fashion of an out of context problem well outside his training or experiences, “AAAAAAAAAGH !”

Then kicked the unconscious Lieutenant Shiro Ikari for good measure.

This was not an isolated event, as the IJA officer corps in Korea woke up to a gluey feathery reality they really would have prefered not to have survive, nor did the IJA soldiery of the rank and file come out of the life baring experience with their heads held high either.

The Imperial Japanese Navy were very polite about the IJA's Korean misfortunes...they only laughed in the company of other navy men.


***
...Siberia...October...1915...

There was much jubilation and hilarity from the workers when news of the 'Korean Incident' broke, both Chinese and Russian – even if a large number of the latter were in Siberia involuntarily.


Vodka and other hard alcohol had flowed like water as the celebrating crowds mixed together and sang and danced in one of those spontaneous exchanges of 'culture' which would culminate in much closer relationships which would likely end in not a few of the Chinese men being Natasha'd – a somewhat derogatory euphemism for a woman of Russian birth though not necessarily white, nailing a Chinese husband, which had come into common use.


There were, the newly promoted General Chen Hwuan thought as he looked out the window at the merry celebration, going to be ALOT of young Chinese men Natasha'd in the near future.


“Excellent,” Chen Hwuan said softly as he sat at his desk with his hands steepled in front of his mouth in what should have seemed a sinister pose evocative of a certain character from the Evangelion cartoons...the colourful psychedelic warm wool mittens kind of detracted from the desired effect, though – a gift from Uri Pavlovich's remarkably hot little sister, Viktorya.


As demented as the Politburo's deranged plan had been, Chen could see the sheer genius and thought behind it now, with the subsequent events which had unfolded in Korea.


The 'Korean Incident' had been plausibly denied by the Politburo whose smug shit eating grins practically oozed 'Who us ? Would we do that ?' platitude to the apoplectic Imperial Japanese...whose own diplomatic facades had cracked a few times upon referring to the Imperial Japanese Army's irreparable loss of face.


Soldiers talk – and the Japanese variety were no different, the shame had spread like wildfire offshore on whatever passed for the IJA rumour mill, and into Japanese society.


The wide dewy eyed Koreans had woken up to a new day to find their Japanese overlords running around nude and defenceless, the officers pretty much tarred and feathered and caught in compromising positions with their junior officers...the whole thing wasn't about to die down on its own.


The PLA, which had retreated back to the fortifications on the Chinese Korean border after the infamous night of no moon, hadn't had to do anything more but watch as the Imperial Japanese Army in Korea practically imploded...yes, there were quite a lot of IJA suicides in the officer corps, but the whole 'warrior mystique' and 'honourable suicide' business had lost a massive amount of street cred in Japanese culture.


With the literal collapse of the IJA command structure in Korea, 'suicide' was being increasingly viewed as cowardice rather something admirable, which amounted to abandonment of duty and running away from problems than taking responsibility.


It's one thing to commit suicide looking solemn and dignified in the de facto armour of a uniform...quite another when you look like a chicken who'd just been tossed into a washing machine. Suffering 'war wounds' was a new mortifying topic afflicting the IJA officer corps, especially of the kind which prevented one from being able to sit with stories of rampant bum banditry running unchecked in the higher ranks circulating.


Yes, a lot of the more militant Japanese had...proverbially died of shame.

The Koreans, both in China and in Korea proper, had taken the opportunity to almost walk back into power and regain control of the country in the face of an impotently disarmed IJA which was freezing its ass off, and the Japanese-Korean Treaty was firmly repudiated with the remarkably peaceful overthrow of the authorities.

The news had taken a little while to filter up to Siberia, but it eventally did and circulated amongst the Russians.

Chen giggled into the warmth of his mittens, the Politburo were truly Evil Men.


“COMRADE !,” an ecstatic Uri Pavlovich exclaimed as he came in without knocking and a bottle of hard grog in the giant of a man's paw with another under the man's arm, and looking quite obvious blasted already if the colour in his face was any indication, “DRINK WITH ME !”


“Eh - ,” Chen coughed as Uri stalked over to him, put the bottles down and hauled him upright and embraced the wide eyed Asian engineer in a bear hug, “Wat – stop ! “


“NONSENSE, A GREAT VICTORY NEEDS TO BE CELEBRATED ! TODAY, YOU ARE RUSSIAN !,” The fine example of downtime Russian masculinity seized the bottle he'd half emptied and proceeded to jam the bottle in Chen's mouth, which didn't stop the Chinese general from struggling to free himself from the bear of a man's hold on him.


It was a futile exercise, Chen began swallowing if only to prevent himself drowning which Uri laughed approvingly and began hopping up and down while enthusiastically bellowing the popular 'Katyusha' song which the Chinese had inadvertently infected the locals with.


By the time the drunk Russian force fed Chen the second bottle, the general was feeling no pain. It was under this semi-conscious condition that Uri hauled his CO back home over his shoulder to his wife and beloved baby sister, where they proceeded to get wasted in time honoured Russian fashion.


When Chen woke up next morning, he was feeling nice and warm despite the pounding headache and light sensitiveity – that probably had a lot to do with Uri's nude little brunette sister beside him under the sheets whose blue eyes were studying him with amusement.


Yes, Chen realised upon finding himself similarly in the buff in the girl's bed – he'd just gotten himself Natasha'd...or was that become a 'Viktim' of the cultural exchange occurring in Siberia...thinking hurt.

***

...Russia...November...1915...


It was the November of 1915, and the war in Europe was still raging unabated with China's new Imperial Russian friend firmly embroiled in the mess.

The Tsar had been effusively happy about the Japanese being driven out of Korea, and the means by which the Japanese had suffered the ignominious 'defeat' had the beleaguered monarch practically dancing with so much smugness that it appeared he was about to float off at times...it was such a pity that Russia was otherwise occupied, that certain historical insults suffered at the hands of the Japanese could not be redressed at this time.


The Chinese supply pipeline from Siberia had become pretty much critical to the survival of the Russian Empire that the Tsar had cause to revisit the Treaty of Friendship and Co-operation he'd reluctantly signed, and come to the conclusion that it was one of the better decisions he'd managed to make in a pretty lack lustre career...a career, which was slowly turning around with the aid of the 'Federation' Russians whom had negotiated the Treaty with the Chinese.


With a healthy cut of the Siberian profits and resources, the Empire's depleted coffers were filling up nicely that the time would soon come that should Russia disengage from the war, no amount of political pressure or economic threat from the French or English would be sufficient to drag Russia back into the war.


The Tsar now understood just how disastrous the war would be on the Russian Empire from the valuable information passed onto him by the Federation Russians, and the lethal consequences it would have on the Romanov line. While he could round up the agitators responsible for that vile treasonous act of regicide, the Federation Russians had brought up a valid point...all the elements of discontent were still there, how do you stop the next revolution ?

More repression, would just make it even more inevitable.

Seeing the plethora of visual historical documentary evidence from a future which would never be with his own eyes, Tsar Nicholas had become a changed man...well, a less autocratic one – and while he had his suspicions about the Federation's intentions, he was at least certain they didn't plan to put his head on the block like – like the Bolsheviks.


The Tsar had a total disconnect when trying to think of the Bolshevik rabble and the Chinese Communists sharing a common ideological ancestor, a revelation which had initially cause the Tsar much alarm when advised of the relationship by the Federation, but it did give a lot of food for thought which culminated in the Tsar's decision to dig up his grandfather's work on a representative legislature.


Based on Alexander the 2nd's document, and the documents the Federation Russians had brought with them, the details were being hammered out which the Tsar planned to unveil to the Russian People on Christmas...a Duma, and an intention to withdraw from the European conflict.

Then...then Russia would have the peace to make itself truely great, and perhaps even surpass the strange new Chinese whose remarkable lack of subterfuge had bought the Empire a chance.