Chapter 1031: Airfield Battle

The Germans raided a villa outside Rome, sending shockwaves through Italy’s elite. His Majesty the King quickly summoned every minister he could find, including Mussolini, to question whether the Germans would invade Rome and seize control of all of Italy.

After Mussolini insisted that this was just a small-scale German force, the several key Italian figures who supported breaking away from the Axis finally calmed down. But they still demanded that Mussolini arrange for trusted troops to enter Rome and increase the guard force around their residences.

After agreeing to their demands, Mussolini finally left the King’s residence. He already felt that the current situation was extremely bleak, but he was still full of hope for his own future. Even the rout of his border troops had not made him so dejected, but the fall of that villa had made him feel the crisis approaching.

“The roads leading up the mountain to that villa, I had over 300 landmines laid! I deployed an entire reinforced battalion there, that was a full 600-plus men!” Mussolini’s confidant, who had been in charge of that villa, stood with his head bowed, waiting for his superior to erupt in a rage. He knew he had screwed things up, and in an irreversible way.

“I don’t want to know how you screwed it up, I just know that you did screw it up!” Mussolini complained in exasperation. “The American special envoy, on my own turf, was rounded up by German troops… If you were the American government, would you or would you not put this debt on my head?”

In truth, what he feared most was not the Americans’ blame, but that the United States, because of this raid, would abandon its plan to support Italy. This was the truly fatal problem. Once the United States abandoned Italy, then how long could a country with such weak combat effectiveness, like Italy, struggle under the iron fist of the German army?

Thinking of this, Mussolini gritted his teeth. He knew he had no way out, so he could only grit his teeth and continue forward. “You go, notify all ports to seize all German goods, including those bound for Israel! Order the navy to blockade all sea areas… Also, summon all my aides here. Go.”

“Yes! Leader! I’ll do it right away! If there are no other orders, then I’ll be on my way!” Seeing Mussolini wave his hand impatiently, the confidant quickly nodded and retreated from his office.

And Mussolini, in the room, his face changed. He muttered in a low voice, “If it wasn’t because I really have no one else I can use, I would have had you finished long ago, you idiot!”

After cursing his incompetent subordinate, he picked up the phone and dialed the officers’ office of the guard unit downstairs. “Hello, this is Mussolini. Raise the security around my office by another level. Double the manpower! If necessary, set up anti-aircraft guns and Panzerfausts…”

“Yes, Leader! I’ll immediately transfer another battalion from the capital defense force to deploy around your office!” the officer in charge of Mussolini’s security answered loudly on the other end.

Hearing this guarantee, Mussolini relaxed slightly. He looked at the map of Italy on the wall, which had been constantly expanding since he had taken power, and let out a helpless sigh. The oil extraction rights in Libya, and even the transport routes and tax powers, had all been bought by the Germans at a low price. What difference was there between having this vast colony and not having it?

He looked at the Balkan Peninsula, which was in a state of chaos, with people dying every day. That place was a place that he, the leader of Italy, found to be tasteless, yet a pity to abandon. He had indeed been given a part of the Balkan Peninsula, but he had, as a result, been bogged down in the endless harassment of the local partisans, and he simply could not extricate himself.

“I just wanted to make my motherland strong. Is that such a heinous crime?” Mussolini lamented again. In his view, he was just seeking normal means to seek the prosperity of his own country. Not long ago, everyone had been doing this, swaying back and forth between the great powers, constantly grabbing benefits through alliances and betrayals.

But in just a few short decades, two world wars had changed everything. Now, allying with an ally required more strategic vision than before, and it was not so easy to change sides. Everything in the world had changed, had become bloodier, more cruel, and more cold.

While Mussolini was feeling sorry for himself in his office, German paratroopers were cowering under enemy machine gun fire. Not all Italians were submissive slaves. At this important strategic airfield, the local garrison and the German paratroopers who had come to capture it had broken out in a truly fierce battle.

“Battalion commander, 2nd Company on the east side is pinned down by anti-aircraft cannons! Their fire is too heavy, we can’t break through on the east!” a signals soldier with a radio on his back, lying prone beside Borol, reported loudly.

They had already tried to establish an encircling perimeter for an attack, but the Italian garrison in the airfield had, unexpectedly, refused to surrender and had returned fire on all attempts to attack. The other side was well-stocked with ammunition and was very well-prepared, so for a time, the German army had no good way to deal with this airfield, which had a circular defensive perimeter.

“Damn it, who was it that said this drop into Italy would be a pleasant trip?” Borol complained, observing the Italian anti-aircraft gun battery in a high tower in the distance, which was constantly firing at the surrounding area, through his binoculars. “If I’d known, I would have brought the paratrooper tankettes, instead of giving up so much heavy equipment to carry more men.”

This time, in order to achieve the maximum, largest-scale drop of paratroopers, to quickly occupy the largest possible area of Italian territory, the German paratroopers had not carried a large amount of heavy weapons. The 75mm multi-purpose infantry guns and the paratrooper tankettes had not been dropped with the troops. They only had individual weapons such as hand grenades and explosive packs.

The German army had indeed achieved its desired tactical objective. The number of paratroopers had thus been increased. So in the first 10 hours after the start of the war, the German paratroopers had taken control of a vast area of northern Italy, preparing to receive the rapid advance of the German ground forces.

“Take a squad of soldiers and advance another 30 meters from that direction! Can you do it? I’ll support you with all the firepower I can find. At that distance, set up a forward machine gun position, and then use it to divide the enemy’s fire. I’ll launch an attack from here!” Borol ordered the one-armed Donner beside him.

Donner immediately nodded, turned, and shouted, “1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, 1st Company, with me! Let’s show these Italians what we’re made of!”

Although he only had one arm, the name “One-Armed Donner” was known throughout the entire paratrooper battalion. He had lost his hand at Damanhur, but he had found an aura there, the aura of a soldier. Now, when he stood there, it made people feel a distinct authority, a quality that did not match his age.

“Machine gun! Fire on the enemy fire point! Suppress the enemy’s weapons! Our men are preparing to attack!” the company commander of the 1st Company shouted to a machine gun team not far away, leaning against the wall of a foxhole.

The gunner, with the stock of his G42 machine gun pressed against his shoulder, nodded to his company commander. His machine gun then began to shake, and the ammunition belt, as if being pulled by some force, was drawn into the gun’s body. Scattered shell casings fell to the ground. The machine gun’s muzzle flash was incessant, and tracer rounds, mixed in with the rain of bullets, flew towards the distant target.

“Attack!” Seeing that the Italian firepower had been suppressed, Donner leaped out from behind his cover. He waved the stump of his arm and shouted to his comrades.

At his shout, a dozen or so German paratroopers leaped up from their hiding places. They kept their bodies low, held their weapons, and, in the face of the dense hail of enemy bullets, charged towards their target. Someone was hit by a bullet and, struggling, rolled to the ground. The rest continued to charge forward, to complete their sacred mission.

“Sniper! Can you take out the gunner at that fire point? That machine gun nest is a serious threat.” Watching as someone from Donner’s side was hit as they launched their attack, Borol was extremely anxious. He turned around and questioned the sniper behind him.

“I’m firing! It’s not a good range!” the sniper replied, without taking his eye from his rifle scope. He was concentrating on his prey, and then he would fire to take its life. His hand was very steady, and there was not the slightest tremor as he held his gun.

Crack! With a single shot, the continuous fire from that very threatening machine gun nest stopped. After firing a dozen or so shots at that machine gun nest, this sniper seemed to have finally, at this moment, completed his combat mission.

The Italian firepower pillar had been briefly silenced, so the German offensive momentum instantly became fierce. These heroic German paratroopers, shouting “Damanhur,” charged frantically, closing in on the Italian positions. In the end, they had gotten close enough, close enough for them to display their courage.

“Damanhur! Attack!” Borol, seeing that the enemy’s fire had been partially suppressed by the machine gun nest that Donner had established on the flank, decisively gave the order to attack. And so, over a hundred German soldiers leaped out of their shelters and began to charge at the Italians opposite them.

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