It was very good camouflage to the naked eye. If the spy who spotted and then reported them would not have been involved they would never have seen them in the woods. The jets on either side had not played a major role as of yet. Both sides’ models had very limited range so they consequently never met in battle. The US Shooting Star had great range but except for a few occurrences, did not appear over British air space. He suspected that was why he was being pulled out of the Channel area and sent to Baku. The American’s were sure to attack from somewhere soon. He had heard a major bombing campaign would be launched in the spring from Iberia or possibly some of the islands in the Mediterranean. He was just a fighter pilot however and had no firm proof of anything.
Ten more minutes and then he would turn for home… or at least the French coast. He would go to sleep dreaming about the good life waiting for him near the Black Sea. It would be a major change from the intense fighting he experienced over Britain. A very welcome change he mused. Maybe he could bring down his family to enjoy the warmer climes in Baku. He felt in his bones that this part of the world was in for a very hard winter. He had felt this before near Moscow in 1943 and he was proven right.
Home Front in WWIII 1946
0930
Emergency Meeting Of the Security Council of the United Nations,
U.N. Temporary Headquarters,
San Francisco, California, U.S.A.
According to the by-laws governing the operations of the United Nations organization, the only Soviet diplomats with portfolio allowed to operate inside the United States were those who were assigned to this body. However, because the on-going hostilities between their nation, and the Western Powers, their movements were scrutinized in a way they had never before experienced here. In a perverse way, it made them feel at home.
As all the diplomats from the permanent members of the Security Council began to file into the chamber, the tension was so thick that it became difficult to concentrate on the issues at hand. After all, the meeting had been called at the behest of the host nation, the United States, which could not bode well for the Soviet delegates. As the ambassadors all took their seats, the delegate designated as today’s meeting chair gaveled the session into order.
All of the old Security Council business was disposed of and the meeting quickly moved onto the emergency matter at hand: the attempt by the Soviet Union to take control of the United Nations by installing ambassadors from the European countries that they have overrun, especially trying to suborn France’s seat on the Security Council with Stalin’s own hand-picked French representative. The other three permanent members and the representative of the exiled government of France all objected strenuously, precipitating today’s emergency session.
The meeting began with the ambassador from the government-in-exile of France railing against the Soviet Union’s motion to replace him as lawful representative of the Fourth French Republic to the United Nations Security Council. Each of the other permanent members of the Security Council had their turn, with the United Kingdom of Great Britain and the Republic of China using their vetoes against the Soviet proposal, with the ambassadors to the Soviet Union and the United States of America yet to speak. The ambassador for the United States makes his impassioned veto and as the representative of the Soviet Union stands up to speak, the other four members of the Security Council stand up and walk out. It was understood that this would be the final snub to the Soviet Union in its quest for legitimacy, and adjournment of the emergency session and the final dissolution of the United Nations as a working body for the adjudication of international disputes. The United Nations, as it existed that day, would never meet again.
Awaiting the Soviet diplomats when they arrived back in their temporary accommodations was a note from the United States Department of State. It gave the last Soviet citizens left legally on U.S. soil 24 hours to vacate their accommodations and leave the United States, or risk arrest as enemy agents. They were gone in less than 12.
0127
In an apartment safe house of the Communist Party-USA,
Near 43rd Street and Cottage Grove Avenue,
The South Side of Chicago
Richard was now a marked and hunted man. Ever since the Soviets had started their War of Liberation back in May, the FBI had been aggressively searching for him, as one of the identified members of the Communist Party-USA (member card number 47644) and the editor of the CP-USA weekly publication, The Chicago Star. He was now subject to arrest and detention, as an enemy agent of the Soviet Union, but his good fortune, and what he believed were his unparalleled skills as a survivor, helped him avoid such a fate. He had been on the run ever since, but every move was now fraught with danger as more and more of his comrades, especially his fellow community organizers in the Negro community, were being rounded up and imprisoned.
Even still, Richard refused to leave Chicago, preferring instead to continue to publish the propaganda paper, when and where the opportunity arose. That was the blessing, and the curse, of the True Believer, was the inabilty to see the pragmatic long view, in favor of short-term gain. Both were useful in their own right, but only one afforded the ability for a complete victory. Richard himself had attempted to agitate some worker riots on the South Side, which were promptly put down by the police department’s flying squads, assisted by Military Police units of the Illinois National Guard (the Posse Comitatus Act had been temporarily suspended by Congress, in its last session), by virtue of the truncheon, and rifle shots fired in the air. Unfortunately, there were a few deaths that resulted, and the ones that did occur were a tragic propaganda blow to CP-USA. As a result, support for the party was beginning to decline now, from their inability to secure moral support or financial backing for strikes, especially from among the Negro community, who wanted nothing more than to work and feed their families, and to be left out of the political fracas. Even the staunchly loyal original members of the CP-USA of Chicago, the “Old Guards”, were distancing themselves from the Richard’s extreme violence, and his attempts to start the revolution in Chicago.
But this time, Richard had gone too far. Last night, close to being captured, he had gotten into a shoot-out with the Feds and two of his comrades were dead, and he saw a couple Feds go down. If that was indeed the case, they would be searching harder for him now, relentless to capture or kill him, for injuring or killing their own. Richard will not yield. In the ratty tenement apartment, he had close at hand a Tommy gun and a Colt .45 automatic. He was not a rat, refused to be tortured, and resolved not to be taken alive. What he did not know was that there was a combined task force, composed of the Chicago FBI’s Special Intelligence Section, and the Chicago Police Department’s newly-established communist-hunting intelligence section, the “Red Squad”, gathering intelligence on Richard and his associates, stalking them back to where they hid.
A fierce, hard, pounding on the door. “RICHARD DAVIS BELZINGER! THIS IS THE FBI! YOU ARE WANTED IN THE MURDER OF TWO FBI AGENTS! YOU ARE SURROUNDED AND CAN NOT RUN, SO SURRENDER PEACEFULLY!” No immediate answer. Two rapid shotgun blasts, and the splintered door is kicked in, and just as quickly, Richard Davis Belzinger calmly stands up, holding up the Tommy gun to his shoulder, and fires it until the 50-round drum magazine is emptied. Sometime between the moment that he calmly puts down the Tommy gun, and the time that he attempted to reach for the Colt .45 pistol, five .45 bullets entered his chest, ripping huge chunks out of him as they exited.