Arkansas drops turkeys. Oregon sees leprechauns. Kansas holds a sex toy auction. And 2020 ruins everything... All in all, it's just a normal day for the 50 States of America.
"America: 50☆Stars" is a Hetalia fanfiction series made up of volumes, ful...
Despite past grievances against the Yankee twat, surprisingly, England thought little of the War of 1812—a "minor" theater in the Napoleonic Wars. Defeating France was his main priority, and he was confident Canada and the native tribes would be able to handle the American threat on their own (with additional resources provided by him). It wasn't until after he put a stop to the Napoleon Tornado did he ever took the War of 1812 seriously. The Englishman had a vengeful scheme to embarrass America and prove himself to be superior.
After hearing concerns of wartime taxes and desperate calls for the resumption of trade, however, England placed his original plans on hold.
"Congratulations," said England with a smug smile as he and America firmly shook hands. "I didn't think you would be sophisticated enough to accept a treaty that wasn't on your terms."
"What are you talking about? I clearly won the war." America maintained an oblivious smile.
He scoffed, "Preposterous. I burned down your capital. No offense."
"Haha. That's alright. The capital needed to be renovated anyway. I still won though."
"Well, you weren't able to invade Canada."
"Who?"
"Canada."
"Who?"
"Now, now, the treaty has been signed. No need to continue arguments about the war." Belgium smiled, sticking her nose between the brothers before their bickering escalated further.
England sighed, "Very well. You make a valid point."
"Say, Belgium!" America suddenly exclaimed. "I'm in the mood for some waffles after all this boring political talk."
"Say no more. I'll be happy to help you with that," she chirped.
As Belgium led the hungry American out of the room, England followed behind them, smiling sinisterly to himself. 'Little does the dimwit know I have plans to justify the continuation of this war. If all goes well, this treaty will mean nothing to me.'
☆☆☆☆☆
January 8, 1815—Chalmette, Louisiana
About five miles south of New Orleans, the British Army went over preparations for a grand assault on Line Jackson—the American defenses led by General Andrew Jackson.
"Alright, gentlemen. Listen up and pay attention. I won't say this twice." Major General Pakenham of the British Army laid a (shitty) map of the landscape out on the table.
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
"This will be a two-prong assault—one on the west side by the Mississippi and one on the center-east side by the swamp. At this very moment, Colonel Thornton is getting ready to cross the Mississippi. Before dawn, he'll be upriver storming the American battery in the hopes of turning the weapons onto the enemy. Upon his signal, General Keane will march along the river and lead a distractionary assault on the American right side. At the same time, Major General Gibbs and I will lead the main army to the center-right side of the earthworks. Based on what we know from Galvez, our large armies should be able to overwhelm the weakest point of the American defenses. If all goes well on time, we'll be able to punish the dirty shirts with a pulverizing crossfire. And just like that, New Orleans will be in British—"
