Chapter 1032: Why Are You Here?

“These stupid Germans! Do they think they’re made of iron?” an Italian commander asked, lowering his binoculars. He tapped the 75mm anti-aircraft gun next to him, pointed at the German paratroopers who were attacking over there, and ordered, “Aim in that direction, open fire and suppress them!”

“Yes, sir!” The Italian gunner nodded and aimed his cannon at the attacking German paratroopers. He cranked the handle, aimed the gun, and then the loaders pulled a shell from the concrete ammunition storage bunker and loaded it into the breech.

“Fire!” With a command, the Italian soldiers, who had a clear advantage in heavy weapons, fired their cannon. The facts proved that not all Italian national defense projects had been built by cutting corners. At the very least, this airfield had been meticulously designed and built by the Italians.

The shell landed among the attacking German paratroopers, and in an instant, several of them fell in a pool of blood. The assault was suppressed by the explosion. The Italian fire point, after finding a replacement gunner, began to roar again after a brief pause, making the German paratroopers’ situation even more difficult.

Borol watched as his soldiers were pinned down by the enemy’s bullets and shells, his heart burning with anxiety. But apart from launching an attack as soon as possible and breaking through the Italian positions, he really had no other good options. Retreat was also an option, but that choice had long been erased from the German paratroopers’ dictionary.

“Have we contacted the 2nd Battalion on the west side of the airfield? What’s their situation?” Above Borol’s head, a row of craters from the enemy’s fire was still smoking. Bullets were flying everywhere, and sparks were splashing. Everyone had to keep their bodies as low as possible to avoid the enemy’s fire.

“Sir! They’ve also been pinned down by the Italian firepower. We didn’t anticipate such a tenacious Italian counter-attack,” the company commander of the 1st Company, who was by Borol’s side, said with a bitter smile. “They’ve taken the high ground and have heavy firepower. Don’t we have any backup plan?”

“Of course we have a backup plan!” At the same time, far from where Borol and the others were fighting, General Hoth stood with his hands behind his back in a newly established forward command post and said to his men with a smile, “The main reason we didn’t bring heavy firepower is because our heavy firepower can arrive on the battlefield at any time!”

“Are you saying that our fire support has already arrived on the battlefield?” an officer asked, first looking at his superior with confusion. He then suddenly realized something, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “This is really going to be tough on those Italian bastards.”

Just as the 1st Company commander was asking Borol if he had a backup plan, two Stuka bombers dived down from above. The piercing sound of their airframes, irregular from friction with the air, accompanied by the wail of their sirens, instantly lifted the spirits of all the German paratroopers.

This was simply the most beautiful music in the world, because it was the great hymn that would save their lives. When a bomb, dropped from the belly of a Stuka, accurately hit the concrete permanent emplacement of an anti-aircraft gun position, all the German paratroopers cheered. The wind from the huge explosion was so refreshing, so refreshing that it blew away the sound of all the resisters’ gunfire.

Before the Italian garrison could even re-aim their leveled anti-aircraft guns at the sky, the sudden German bomber force had entered the battle. Those two Stukas were just the vanguard. At this moment, behind them, at least ten Stuka dive bombers were screaming down from the clouds, pointing their terrifying noses at their targets.

“Quick! Quick!” The Italian officer, who had just been so arrogant and full of himself, was now in a state of panic. He wished he could personally get on that 75mm anti-aircraft gun and aim it at the German planes that were running rampant in the sky. He pushed aside his subordinate who was cranking the handle, and frantically turned it himself, pointing the muzzle of the cannon at the German planes that were dropping their bombs.

The entire perimeter of the airfield had already been turned into a sea of fire by these Stuka bombers. The Italian garrison, which had just been firmly in control of the situation, was now in a state of collapse and chaos under this world-destroying attack. Their so-called resistance had become a complete joke. Now, let alone stopping those wolf-like paratroopers, they didn’t even have the ability to run from the bombs.

“Aim! Aim for that plane! Shoot it down, and I’ll give everyone a 1,000… no! 3,000 bonus!” this officer shouted, turning the cannon’s adjustment handle, while loudly encouraging his men. And hearing this large sum of money, these soldiers also worked extra hard. Soon, they had aimed the cannon at a German plane in the distance.

Unfortunately for them, they had not seen two other German Stuka bombers, behind them, which had already set their dive path on this permanent anti-aircraft position. They screamed as they began to dive, and then they aimed the 20mm cannons on their wings at these unsuspecting prey.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! The German pilots had not received any orders not to attack the Italians. On the contrary, they were carrying bombs, fully loaded with ammunition, and were under orders to destroy all resistance. So they had pulled their firing triggers without hesitation, sending a dense hail of bullets at the enemy they had in their sights.

Before the Italian garrison on this anti-aircraft position could even react, they were engulfed in a hail of bullets. Sparks were flying everywhere. The dense cannon fire shattered everything that stood in their way, including that high-angle gun and the Italians around it.

In just an instant, this place had become a scene of flying flesh and blood. The shells had torn the fragile human bodies to pieces. Blood and bits of flesh were splattered everywhere. The Italian officer, who had been sitting on the cannon, only felt his body being struck by a huge, hammer-like force. When he opened his eyes again, he saw his own intestines spilling out of his stomach.

He opened his mouth to scream but found that blood was choking his throat. He wanted to move his body from the cannon but found that one of his legs was several meters away. His mind was filled with regret, regret that he had ever come to such an unlucky place, to carry out such an unlucky mission. And then he knew no more, because his vision went black, and then he lost all consciousness.

When the German Air Force appeared, the German paratroopers knew that their helpers for the day had arrived. And these helpers could definitely suppress all opponents, because at least they had never seen the German Air Force being beaten in the sky. In fact, it was true. These bombers quickly destroyed the Italian defense system and drove the stubborn Italians out of their fortifications.

Borol led his troops and began to advance. The process was exceptionally smooth. In the midst of the bombing, the Italians seemed to have realized the importance of their own lives. They surrendered in droves, laying down their weapons in front of the German paratroopers. Although they still had a numerical advantage, their will to resist had been completely destroyed by the screaming Stukas.

Just like the Dutch and Belgian armies almost two years ago, they had simply never seen this kind of three-dimensional attack tactic from Germany. Today, they had finally experienced the original, unadulterated German air-land combined blitzkrieg, and their performance had been no better than that of any other country’s army.

Before, when they were allies with the Germans, they had just thought of the other as a cold and reliable ally. Now that they were enemies, the Italians finally understood just how terrifying their former ally was.

After gunning down an Italian guard who had refused to put down his weapon, Borol led his men and charged into the Italian airfield’s command post. Inside, several Italian officers were dressed very respectably, like a group of gentlemen. They handed the documents in their hands to Borol. “Sir, we surrender on behalf of all the soldiers here. This is a list of the aircraft in stock, and the army personnel roster… We hope you will stop the killing…”

Borol took the documents from the officers’ hands, then nodded and said to these surrendered officers, “This place is now under the control of the Third Reich’s Wehrmacht. I hope you will all cooperate!” He spoke in German, not caring whether these Italians understood what he was saying. Because he knew that all the other side needed to understand was one thing—don’t defy the rifle in his hand.

These Italians were all very cooperative, except for one. This Italian gave a bitter smile, drew his pistol, and, under the watchful eyes of everyone, under countless muzzles, he shot himself in the head. No one knew what he was thinking, because it had all happened too, too fast.

While all of Italy was in a state of chaos, in a small port in southern Italy, across the sea from Sicily, an Italian transport ship was docked at a pier. Waiting here was a group of Italian officers, as well as a few men in German Wehrmacht uniforms. They were all waiting on the pier, their hands behind their backs, waiting for this transport ship to come to a stop.

The gangway was lowered. A military officer in a cape, escorted by guards, walked down from the transport ship. The leading Italian general walked over and finally, under the hood of the cape, he got a clear look at the newcomer’s face. He looked at the other in surprise and, after a long moment, asked in astonishment, “Why are you here?”

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