Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 13

The next few months or so went by in a blur of bombs and smoke, with continued air assaults being performed nightly against the enemy island of Britain. America mainly focused on keeping everything well stocked and funded, as her position of having factories on a completely different continent had always made her the obvious choice to supply weapons. The process of keeping everything well-stocked was quite simple, and something the country had taken to doing on her own. Afterall, why take soldiers away from the war to count, when she was perfectly capable of handling it herself. Besides, the mundane process was almost cathartic, and seemed like one of the few constants in her rapidly changing life. Every few days, letters would come in, each containing a report from a different base about their supplies- what was there, what was missing, and what they needed. She would read through all of the reports, circling any numbers that seemed a bit out of the ordinary (in order to report them to Third Reich later). Then she would write her own extensive report, detailing everything that needed to be shipped to each base, and when it would need to be there by, and send it off to her own officials back at home.

It was weird to essentially be in charge of paperwork whilst in the midst of a war, but America could definitely see the appeal of it. She didn't constantly see all of the destruction that came with war. Instead, she sat and did simple arithmetic whilst looking out of her window. It was almost weird, how simple everything had been the past few months. Since she was mainly following Japan and Third Reich's lead, she didn't have to make too many calls in regards to strategy. She just... did as she was told. Which wasn't something she had ever liked previously. She knew from experience that if you weren't calling the shots, oftentimes you would be screwed over. But she trusted Japan, and at this point, she felt that she could trust Third Reich as well. He seemed to know what he was doing, and hadn't given America any reason not to trust him yet.

It was also fun hanging out with Italy. The two of them had always been friendly, but never got together much. Now that they were living in close proximity, they were able to chat almost everyday, which worked out well for both of them. Italy was really good at cooking, and America was really good at eating, which may have contributed to them getting along as well. More than once, America had woken up in the middle of the night from strange dreams she didn't bother trying to decipher, and had walked into the kitchen to find Italy making pasta at 3am. Those were perhaps some of her favorite conversations, when the two of them were too tired to truly filter themselves, and too alone to care. Besides, each of them were all too aware how little they'd remember the next morning, when they would both come stumbling out of the kitchen after falling asleep there.

She also found Germany to be an interesting place, and the people there were certainly charming in their own regard. Granted, she wasn't allowed to go into Berlin without Third Reich, but he had said it was because he didn't want her to get lost. That was fair, as she didn't know a lick of German, and was certain that she would die before she figured out how to navigate the labyrinth that was the red, white, and black covered city of Berlin. But when she was able to go out to the city with him, she couldn't help but be fond of the people. She saw children in what she assumed were school uniforms, walking back from what Third Reich had told her was a youth group of sorts for German children. She had waved to them, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically for someone of her age and stature, but they had raised a single arm in greeting, so she supposed they must have appreciated the gesture. One of her favorite encounters had been when she had been waiting outside of a government building. Third Reich had gone inside to drop off some paperwork, and she had opted to wait outside. While out there, she had felt a small tap on her arm. She had looked down, noticing a young boy, probably around nine years old.

"Oh. Hi there, Sport!" She had said, smiling brightly. He seemed nervous, but spoke up.

"Sind Sie die Vereinigten Staaten??"