Fallout: Britannia
"Keep Calm, Carry On, Prepare for the Future"
I was born in a small village. Not the American ghost town straight from the Old Western flicks my father kept so many of, nor the tribal living space filled with island savages. But a "proper good" British town. At least it used to be before the War. Growing up, we never really learned much about the War. Just that America had left us to our own, them fighting the Chinese. As that conflict escalated, the European Commonwealth fell apart internally, with us being the last standing with the Germans. They wanted resources and invaded to get them, but after we repelled the bastards, both sides used nukes. Like the yanks' war, nobody actually knows who fired first.
My dear old dad was the ones with the books, and taught us our history. However, in an irradiated hellscape, the difference between a vowel and consonant won't save your ass. I was the only kid who actually learned anything, being the son of our historian and leader. Rupert taught me well, as good a father as one could ask from the Briton Wastes, and I quickly earned a place of respect between my silver tongue and pinpoint aim. Dad always said it should've been me at Sandhurst, not him. To be honest, I'd always wished I could've been an officer of His Majesty and fought Jerry. However, destiny plays a big role in the lives of downtrodden apocalypse victims. And Oliver Murray was destined to be Mayor of Marseham.
Destiny changed the day dad died.