Published at 10th of January 2026 10:19 am

Chapter 821: Fall of Dutch Harbor

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While the Russian Black Sea Fleet had sailed west across the Atlantic with their German allies. Their Pacific Fleet anchored in Vladivostok had sailed in a different direction.

The shores of Alaska had not known war for a very long time. As an American territory detached from the mainland, whatever chaos was happening in Washington and the States had little effect on their daily lives.

The people of Alaska were a hardy people, who largely relied on their own ingenuity and endurance to survive its beautiful yet daunting landscape. If the entire American Republic fell tomorrow, life would continue here as it always had.

Or so the people thought.... But while the invasion of Cuba was ongoing, and Havana had fallen into the hands of the Central Powers. Dutch Harbor and the surrounding U.S. Army bases in southern Alaska were on high alert.

The Alaska Territorial Guard and what limited conventional American units that were stationed in the region found themselves looking over an unusual cluster of radar signatures.

At first they thought it was a mistake; perhaps the weather had caused the equipment to malfunction as was all too common on the Alaskan frontier.

But even as hours passed the alerts did not disappear. In fact, the radar began to detect greater signatures, and a rapidly decreasing distance between the two of them.

When the radar operator realized this was not an error, but was the sign of an unknown naval force rapidly approaching, he was quick to get on the radio and alert the Adjutant General J. P. Williams.

J.P. Williams was stationed at the Alaska Territorial Guard’s headquarters located in Juneau. He was piling over papers with a flask of whiskey in his hand, and an ashtray full of empty cigarette butts.

The U.S. Army had not sent him orders in months. And while the Alaskan people weren’t fully aware of it yet, he and the Governor had come to the conclusion that something horrible had happened on the mainland, and that they were effectively alone.

For months he had been organizing the Alaska Territorial Guard and its naval attachment under the guise of "preparations for assistance to the campaign in the Pacific."

But the reality was, he had been preparing them to defend the territory against any and all potential foreign aggressors.

Today, however, his worst fears had finally been realized. He sat there silently, staring at the letters on the telegram that had just arrived on his desk.

"Unknown fleet inbound and closing fast. Dutch Harbor may be under attack.... Requesting immediate reinforcements."

The message was short, simple, and to the point. J.P. Williams did not even bother to think about it; he quickly relayed the orders to mobilize all soldiers of the Alaskan Territorial Guard and send them south to Dutch Harbor.

After doing so, he collapsed back in his leather-bound seat, practically sinking inside the comfort that eluded him as he stared straight at the ceiling of his office.

"I fear this is the end of us all...."

---

In the years since the end of the German-Japanese War, which saw the Empire of Japan stripped of its overseas territories and put beneath the heel of the German Reich.

Georgy Zhukov had risen to the highest ranks of the Russian Empire. His strategic brilliance, combined with his tactical brutality had gained the Tsar’s favor, and the man found himself holding the title of Field Marshal.

He stood on the bow of the Russian guided missile battlecruiser. The flagship of his fleet was surrounded by smaller and lighter guided missile cruiser variants, as well as destroyers and corvettes.

While Germany and Russia shared a large degree of scientific research. Nuclear power was a secret that the Reich kept very close to its chest.

In addition to this, Russia had never been blessed with the greatest coastal shores. And this was why its naval doctrine varied so wildly from Germany’s.

Germany had fully embraced the benefits of Carrier Strike Groups, due to its access to the Baltic, North, and Mediterranean Seas. They had built a navy that could project force and dominate around the globe.

The Russians however were far more restricted and had opted not to invest as heavily in naval developments as they had into land and aerial forces.

Hence why they focused heavily on guided missile cruisers, destroyers, and frigates. As well as submarines and supply ships.

They were unlikely to win a naval war with their allies in Germany. But compared to the United States and its current Navy, which was decades behind in technology, the Russians were a force to be reckoned with.

And when Zhukov saw the paltry force approaching them. He could not help but hand the binoculars back to Admiral Nikolai Kuznetsov with a disdainful smirk carved upon his lips.

"Well... why don’t you show me what his Majesty’s Imperial Navy is capable of... Admiral."

Kuznetsov did not respond to Zhukov’s taunting; instead he quickly reached for the phone, and gave his orders to the entire bridge.

"Unleash Salvo six and nine..."

After placing the phone back in its holding place, Kuznetsov pulled up his sleeve and gazed at his watch. Counting down the seconds until the first missile was fired.

The vertical launch cells opened and fired anti-ship missiles straight into the air, spiraling down towards the oncoming American ships.

The Americans did not even have the time to react; they were neither close enough to get their main guns online. Nor were their primitive flak weapons capable of responding to the swiftness with which the missiles cut through the air.

The explosions came in succession. One, then two... Zhukov frankly did not know how many missiles he saw strike their targets. All he knew was that in a matter of two minutes he watched the entirety of the American fleet stationed in defense of Alaska sink off its shoreline.

But before he could properly apologize to Admiral Kuznetsov for his disrespectful joke. The admiral gave another order.

"Fire the remaining cells, obliterate the army bases, but leave Dutch Harbor intact. We will need it to properly stage our forces."

Just like that hundreds of missiles took to the skies, fired not only from the battlecruiser, but the flanking cruisers, destroyers, and frigates.

Scorching through the sky, they tore down upon the American military bases and lit them aflame, leaving them absolutely barren of life.

Zhukov stared at Kuznetsov in silence while the Admiral turned around and smirked at him. The fearsome field marshal felt chills go down his spine upon hearing the admiral’s words.

"You were saying...."

It took a second or two for Zhukov to recover his composure, and when he did, he could not help but praise the Admiral for the power his fleet possessed.

"It truly is remarkable what his Majesty’s Imperial Navy is capable of. I fear you have left those of us in the Army little to work with, as no doubt the nearby military bases have been utterly laid to waste with such a ruthless assault."

Kuznetsov said nothing and instead returned his attention back to the sea in front of him. Finally, after the Fleet arrived at Dutch Harbor, finding its docks empty, and waiting did the Admiral speak again.

"I suppose it is now your turn to show me what his Majesty’s Imperial Army is capable of, no?"

Zhukov only chuckled as he patted Kuznetsov on the shoulder, knowing all too well he would not be able to top such a performance. At least not with the limited degree of resistance they would be facing.

Nevertheless, he made a boast all the same, if not simply to save face with his favorite rival.

"Mark my words, Admiral, the Americans will surrender within the hour...."

Zhukov then departed from the bridge of the Russian flagship and began to muster his forces for the invasion of Alaska.

Unlike Cuba, which was meant to be a temporary occupation by coalition forces. Tsar Alexei had given the order to take Alaska back for the Russian Empire no matter what the cost.

Russia did not seek spectacle. It sought an arithmetic of reconquest: soil returned, imperial pride restored, treaties of sale rewritten by force, not diplomacy.

Zhukov understood this well; conquest was never emotional; it was procedural. The Americans would argue over blame, banners, and identity.

Meanwhile, Russia would advance, disciplined, inevitable, and utterly indifferent to their internal disarray.

Kuznetsov remained behind on the bridge, coordinating with his superiors in Moscow.

"The initial landing has been successful. Fort Randall and Fort Glenn have both been annihilated. Dutch Harbor is under invasion as we speak. And it would appear Marshal Zhukov is eager to prove his worth."

Static emerged from the radio, at least at first. And then came a voice, it was low, quiet, but calculating.

"Proceed as planned, Admiral. By the time the Germans have learned what we have done, it will be too late for them to protest. Alaska will belong to Mother Russia once more...."

The line then went dead, and Admiral Kuznetsov returned his attention to the ongoing battle, and his Fleet’s part in it.

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