Roosevelt

The heavy, relentless rain poured down in sheets, drumming a morbid rhythm against the windowpane, and the bruised, dark clouds outside made the grand room somewhat dim, casting long, oppressive shadows.

Dutch Van der Linde stood quietly by the window, a solitary figure, looking out at the blurring curtain of water. The dimness outside, reflecting off the glass, mirrored his seemingly calm, almost serene face, but within its depths, a subtle, unsettling glint of madness, always lurking, danced in his eyes. He was a storm himself, contained.

On May 7, 1901, a date that would forever be stained with blood, France and Germany engaged in an extremely brutal, soul-shattering urban battle in the ancient French city of Strasbourg. It was a hellish, grinding conflict.

Both sides, consumed by a ravenous hunger for victory, committed a staggering total of 500,000 soldiers to this battle, throwing them into the meat grinder. In just one agonizing month, over 300,000 souls were killed or wounded, their bodies broken, their lives extinguished, leaving a crimson stain on the cobblestones.

The entire city of Strasbourg was utterly bombed into ruins, its historic buildings crumbling into dust, completely turning into a desolate, unrecognizable rubble, a monument to human folly.

The sheer, unprecedented scale of this war was hailed by newspapers worldwide as the largest ever, a monstrous testament to modern destruction.

This battle, which averaged a horrifying 10,000 casualties per day, a constant, bloody toll, was morbidly dubbed the 'Strasbourg Meat Grinder' by newspapers worldwide, its name whispered in hushed, terrified tones. Even the ancient, detached Empress Dowager Cixi, far across the world, expressed her opinion, a cackle of perverse glee escaping her lips: 'This is a heavenly punishment for the foreigners, by God! They deserve it!' She even happily held a lavish celebration that evening, feasting on the suffering of others.

Unfortunately for her, she was widely mocked by various overseas scholars, those smug, self-important intellectuals, who ridiculed her as exaggerated and ugly, bloated and unbearable, a relic of a dying age!

This was a true meat grinder, a relentless, churning maw of death! The scale of forces committed to the city never fell below 100,000 daily, a constant, suffocating press of humanity. The entire city of Strasbourg became a sprawling, chaotic battlefield, with countless brutal, desperate battles possibly breaking out simultaneously every single day, in every alley, every ruined building.

Even the so-called Battle of Verdun, a name synonymous with horror, did not compare to the sheer, unadulterated brutality of this war. If forced to compare, it was roughly on the terrifying scale of the Battle of Moscow, a struggle for survival.

Aside from military casualties, the civilian casualties were even more horrific, a silent, unspeakable tragedy.

The entire city of Strasbourg has since been unable to recover, a gaping wound on the landscape, and it may take a century, perhaps more, to do so, if ever.

The brutal outcome of the Battle of Strasbourg was a massive earthquake for the entire world, shaking nations to their core.

A battle of this terrifying intensity right at the very start? How much more brutal, how much more devastating, would it get later, as the war dragged on? The thought sent shivers down spines.

Due to this battle, the proud French Republic was forced to re-evaluate Germany's combat intensity, their unwavering ferocity. The French Government, their faces grim, once again increased its troops, completely starting to draw on its national reserves, pulling every able-bodied man into the fray.

There was no choice; if they fought like this and still lost, if they didn't fight desperately, they would be completely overrun, their nation swallowed whole!

For England, that old, cunning lion, this battle also made them re-evaluate the war, its true, horrifying nature. The sudden, terrifying emergence of the Tank, that black technology, filled them with both profound fear and a strange, unsettling relief.

They were relieved that Germany did not attack them first, that the iron beasts weren't at their gates, and that Germany did not possess powerful naval weapons, leaving their island safe for now.

At the same time, they were also filled with lingering fear, a cold dread that clung to them.

How in God's name did this Germany silently develop such a powerful thing?! they wondered, their minds reeling. My goodness, now they had no choice but to sanction him, to try and cripple his war machine!

For the Allies, this war undoubtedly severely dampened their morale, a crushing blow to their spirit, especially the existence of black technologies like the Steel Tank, which sent shivers down their spines, a cold premonition of defeat.

As for Germany, this war, despite their initial gains, also brutally shattered their arrogant determination to conquer France within a single month, a foolish dream.

The sheer tenacity of the French army, their unwavering resolve, exceeded their wildest expectations.

From beginning to end, these French soldiers fought tenaciously, with no compromise, no surrender. They did not fear blood, nor did they fear death; even if their rifles ran out of ammunition, they would charge out of buildings with their entrenching tools, their bayonets fixed, a desperate, suicidal fury.

Some even carried satchel charges for suicide attacks, throwing themselves at the enemy, a chilling display of fanaticism.

It was precisely because of this unyielding spirit that they suffered huge losses. It also made them realize that the initial advantage brought by the Tank could not give them the overwhelming superiority they had anticipated, the swift, decisive victory they craved.

If World War II saw no action on the Western Front, with the old French forces collapsing at the first touch, allowing Hitler to transfer all his elite troops to the Soviet, then this era is the exact opposite.

The Tsar's incompetent leadership and the inherent, crippling problems of the Tsarist Russian system made their soldiers vulnerable, easily broken, so Germany's elite troops were all sent to France, to the Western Front.

But looking at it now, it seems this war will still be extremely difficult, a long, bloody, grinding struggle!

If Europe was extensively reporting on the Strasbourg Meat Grinder battle to boost their national morale, twisting the truth for propaganda, the same news in America was completely different, a stark contrast.

The American East Federal Government, their faces grim with desperation, worked overnight to write exaggerated, sensational newspaper articles, their pens scratching furiously.

'The culprit behind this war is Dutch…'

'The true devil, Dutch Van der Linde…'

'Dutch Van der Linde, a demon who started the European War…'

That's right, they used various exaggerated statements, blatant lies, to distort the European war, placing all the blame, every single drop of blood, on Dutch, to manipulate public opinion and protect their own crumbling reputation.

Although they inadvertently got it right, stumbled upon the truth about Dutch's manipulations, they never lost in public opinion, their propaganda machine working tirelessly.

However, they were repeatedly defeated on the battlefield, their armies shattered, and various messages of surrender and submission flew like snowflakes, a blizzard of humiliation, to the American East Federal Government.

At this moment, in the American East Federal Government, a scene of frantic chaos.

"I don't understand!" a furious voice boomed, echoing through the newly constructed United States Congress Assembly Hall in Ohio. "Why have you become so suspicious after the appearance of something like the Tank, as if this Tank was provided by Dutch Van der Linde to Germany?! It's preposterous!"

Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, his face flushed, pounded the podium with a furious fist, his eyes blazing. "I tell you, first of all, it's impossible for this Tank to have been provided by Dutch Van der Linde to Germany, it's a ridiculous notion! And even if he really did provide it to Germany, we can still win! We are America, by God!"

He puffed out his chest, his voice booming with self-righteous indignation. "Fifty years ago, we thought we could never surpass Europe, but in these fifty years, we have reached this level, a global power! Why are we losing confidence now in the face of a small Tank, a mere machine? Fifty years ago, during the American Civil War, our people wholeheartedly welcomed us, truly enjoying the opportune moment, that vibrant and thriving state of affairs is still vivid in our minds! And now, fifty years later, will the American people no longer support us?! Are we going to be chased and beaten like stray dogs by that damned clown, Dutch Van der Linde?! Never!"

"I tell you, impossible!" Roosevelt roared, his voice cracking with passion.

"Why were we able to win the American Civil War? The main reason was that our industrialization and economy far surpassed the South, that was the basis of our victory! That was our strength!"

He sneered, a contemptuous curl of his lip. "And now, although he, Dutch Van der Linde, is known as the Dutch Van Der Linde, his economy is actually not even stronger than the South back then. From the perspective of logistics and sustained combat, he has no ability to resist whatsoever! He's a paper tiger!"

"Therefore, we are bound to achieve ultimate victory! We will crush him!" Roosevelt declared, his face beaming with unshakeable confidence.

"No matter what, in this defense of Florida, 300,000 against 100,000, the advantage is with us! The numbers don't lie!"

He waved a dismissive hand. "And we don't need to pay too much attention to Europe. The German Second Reich Empire has already stirred up trouble in Europe! Their attention will no longer be on America, they'll be too busy with their own bloody war!"

Roosevelt's voice rose to a triumphant crescendo. "Therefore, we must and certainly will completely defeat Dutch Van der Linde, hang him on the gallows, and let all American people judge him, condemn him for his sins!"

Mr. Theodore Roosevelt spoke loudly in the newly constructed United States Congress Assembly Hall in Ohio, his words ringing with a false bravado.

He had also ascended to this position through his oratorical skills, his booming voice and confident demeanor. At that time, the old American Government was entirely captured by Dutch and taken to the Western District, forced to disband, a humiliating defeat. At this point, someone who dared to confront Dutch Van der Linde, someone with the courage to speak out, needed to step forward.

And Mr. Theodore, with his cunning and ambition, seized this opportunity, delivering his targeted, venomous speech against Dutch Van der Linde, thereby ascending to this throne, a new king in a shattered land.

And now, his speech was evidently still successful, a powerful tool of manipulation.

As his speech concluded, a thunderous applause erupted in the new United States Congress, and all the newly elected department heads and even congressmen applauded enthusiastically, cheering joyfully, their faces alight with adoration.

"Excellent! Mr. Roosevelt's speech was truly outstanding, a masterpiece of rhetoric! He's right! No matter what, this war is just another American Civil War, a mere family squabble!"

Reporters behind the Capitol Building continuously snapped photos, their cameras flashing, and various words of praise poured out onto paper, praising Mr. Theodore Roosevelt to the heavens, as if golden lotuses bloomed from the ground with every word he uttered.

They were just short of saying that Theodore was the son of God, a divine messenger.

Newspapers were being sold across the American East, their headlines proclaiming the wisdom and sagacity of Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, their new, shining leader.

Unsurprisingly, Eastern capital once again found itself in a terrible state of mind due to its own public opinion, trapped in a web of lies.

They are always like this, always deceiving themselves and feeling smug, thinking they can fool everyone else, unaware that they are the first ones to be fooled, the most easily manipulated.

People usually don't speak up because they can get by, because life is tolerable, but that doesn't mean they don't see through it, don't understand the truth.

When they truly find an opportunity to stand up and speak, to voice their discontent, they won't have a good outcome. They will be crushed.

And now, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde is the one leading the charge, the one giving them that opportunity.

With Mr. Van der Linde's command, Davey and Mike, two grim-faced enforcers, began their brutal campaign.

At this time, in Florida, a state simmering with discontent.

Florida, a major Southern state. Although it's a large state, its population is pitifully small, a mere speck on the map.

During the American Civil War, Florida's population was only a mere 140,000, and half of them were slaves. Although the population has increased somewhat with development in recent years, the total population is still only a little over 500,000.

It's a typical Western state, wild and untamed, but with a crucial difference. Because of its proximity to the ocean and the presence of a port, it possesses a city of some scale, which is also why its population has grown, a magnet for the desperate.

As a famously lively state, Florida this time has not been particularly lively, or rather, its upper class has not been particularly lively, their usual revelry muted by fear.

After experiencing the brutal American Civil War, Florida's rulers have become a little smarter, a little more cautious.

The United States Federal Government's punishment was relatively cruel to these defeated parties, these rebellious states. The policies imposed on them involved severe restrictions, or rather, brutal punishments. This is why even now, Texas remains defiantly hostile to the United States Government, constantly threatening to secede, its spirit unbroken.

So, in this East-West war, the Governor of Florida, a cynical, pragmatic man, believed that this time, they absolutely could not choose the wrong side, not again. The stakes were too high.

As for which side to choose, it was simply too easy, a foregone conclusion.

In 1900, the American East's annual steel output was 29.5 million tons, a colossal industrial might, and its industrial output value was approximately 13 billion US dollars, a staggering sum.

In contrast to the American West during the same period, an estimated industrial output value of 100 million US dollars would be considered good, a mere pittance. Even if Dutch Van der Linde has developed and become impressive, can he now have 500 million US dollars? Can his annual steel output reach one million tons? Impossible.

How can the West possibly compare to that industrial behemoth? It's a laughable notion.

Mr. Miami, the Governor of Florida, who deeply understood that economics determines war, that money was the ultimate weapon, knew the outcome of this war almost without looking, a cold, hard certainty.

So he made a decisive move, a cynical betrayal, and immediately pledged allegiance to the East, his face grim but resolute!

During this time, 300,000 soldiers recruited by the United States from various states had been transported by rail to Florida, a massive influx of hungry men. Even before the war began, Florida briefly fell into famine due to the overwhelming demand for military supplies, its meager resources strained to the breaking point.

"Sh*t!, I can't believe what this damned Miami is thinking!" a gaunt worker in a grimy tavern roared, slamming his fist on the table. "Not only is he turning our Florida into a bloody battlefield, but he's also diverting our food to prioritize these damned soldiers! He's worse than a pig or a dog, a traitor to his own people!"

With Mr. Van der Linde's war directive, a spark to the tinder, the entire state of Florida had descended into chaos, a simmering cauldron of discontent.

People in the taverns were full of bitter complaints; these were the poor who couldn't afford to escape, trapped in the coming storm. The truly wealthy had already fled, abandoning their homes, leaving behind those who couldn't, now facing the torment of war, a cruel fate.

During this time, because food had to be prioritized for the United States Army, food supplies in Florida were scarce and prices were rapidly increasing, making it difficult for these poor people to afford even a single meal.

But they could afford beer, a bitter comfort, as the United States Army at this time did not supply beer. (Historically, the United States Army initially supplied hard liquor, but in 1881, the president issued an order prohibiting the sale of alcohol to soldiers, so army commissaries stopped selling alcohol, and of course, they didn't supply it either.)

Now it's even less supplied, because the new United States East Government has just been established and is in a state of disrepair, with no energy to spend precious money on such luxuries.

But even so, the price of beer still increased with the departure of the upper-class bosses, a final insult.

"Say no more. My greatest wish now is for Mr. Van der Linde to arrive quickly, then I'll surrender immediately and go live my good life in the West, by God!" A worker holding a beer nearby sighed deeply, his eyes distant with longing.

If he truly didn't have money, not even enough for his whole family to take a train to the West, he would have already taken his family to Mr. Van der Linde's territory, to that promised land.

In contrast, his neighbor was very smart, a true survivor.

His neighbor, Larsen, had sold off his meager property a year ago, making his wife and children temporarily live under a bridge and beg for survival, a desperate gamble, all to buy himself a single train ticket to work on Mr. Van der Linde's land, a new beginning.

A month later, he earned enough money to bring his wife and children by train to Mr. Van der Linde's territory, and he's probably living a good life now, a testament to his ruthlessness.

Sh*t!, the worker thought, a bitter envy in his heart, if you're not ruthless, you won't stand firm! You'll be crushed!

Seeing his neighbor's good life, he originally wanted to do the same, to follow that path, but he didn't expect the war to start before he could even set off, trapping him.

"Opportunity knocks but once!嗚嗚嗚..." The worker even lay on the table, burying his face in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, his dreams shattered.

The tavern was filled with lamentation, a chorus of despair, everyone cursing the damned Mr. Miami, the treacherous Governor of Florida. Not only the tavern, but even the United States Army was in lamentation at this time, their morale crumbling, and a full-blown riot was about to break out.

At this time, in the Florida military camp, a powder keg waiting to explode.

The entire military camp was bustling with noise, a chaotic din of angry voices.

Although 350,000 soldiers were dispersed in different military zones and locations, their general reactions were not much different, a universal discontent.

At this time, in the front-line military camp with a population of 30,000, the soldiers' discussions about Mr. Van der Linde could no longer be suppressed, their whispers growing into open complaints.

"Sh*t! I don't understand, why are we becoming enemies with Mr. Van der Linde? The Veteran Club was built by him! He gave us hope! If we go against him now, who will we go to for work after we retire? The United States Government? But even now, the American Civil War veteran subsidies haven't been issued, not a single penny!" a grizzled veteran grumbled, spitting on the ground.

"You're joking, sir. You should be grateful if you're not killed outright, why would you still want subsidies?!" a younger soldier scoffed, his face grim.

"So why are we going against Mr. Van der Linde?! My purpose for joining the United States Army was to earn some money for a train ticket so that after I retire, I can go work for Mr. Van der Linde! But now they're making us attack Mr. Van der Linde, making me fight my own benefactor, my own lifeline! What the sh*t! am I even fighting for?!" a soldier cried out, his voice raw with despair.

"If the United States Government could truly give us a way to live, would we have reached this point?! Would we be here, starving, fighting our own people?!"

"No, these pigs and dogs in the United States Government are simply destroying our livelihoods! Let's rebel with him! Let's burn it all down!"

"REBEL! REBEL WITH HIM!!!"

The military camp was boiling, a cauldron of rage. If nothing unexpected happened, a full-blown camp riot would follow closely, a bloody mutiny.

However, it's not certain, because there is no such saying abroad, no such precedent.

But luckily, just then, a sharp, decisive gunshot rang out, cutting through the din like a knife.

"Bang!"