Chapter 1039: Chaos in the Building

In a circular block of buildings near the city center, the only counter-attack against German forces in the entire city of Rome erupted. A group of Italian soldiers in black shirts frantically opened fire with their weapons on the German infantry who were trying to approach the building.

Bullets struck the walls, the corners of the buildings, and the ground, kicking up clouds of white dust. From the second-floor windows of the building, the Italian defenders had formed a crossfire with their machine guns, sealing off all the German routes of attack. Some had also dragged furniture and other things to block the roads on both sides, setting up simple barricades.

These Blackshirts were a force fanatically loyal to Mussolini, and their combat effectiveness was relatively strong within the context of the entire Italian military. Moreover, these men were not afraid of sacrifice, daring to engage the powerful German army in a direct confrontation even in this desperate moment.

Crack! Crack! Listening to the gunfire outside, Mussolini sat behind his desk, his face expressionless. He knew his time was running out. After all, the Blackshirts who could truly fight numbered only a few thousand. By the time the German tanks and armored cars arrived, these troops, armed only with light weapons, would be annihilated in an instant.

As his thoughts ran wild, the terrifying, linen-tearing sound of the German machine guns finally rang out from a nearby block. The sheer density of the sound made his hand tremble slightly. This was the first time he had heard the sound of this weapon, known as “Akado’s Saw.” It was so unique that he recognized it at once.

“It sounds just like they described. Such a dense hail of gunfire, you can’t even tell how many shots are being fired,” Mussolini murmured, closing his eyes, as if trying to calm himself. But the gunfire outside only grew more intense, making his already chaotic heart beat even faster.

The German army seemed to be extremely displeased that their advance had been obstructed. The gunfire in the area grew denser. A squad of German soldiers tried to take a building occupied by the Italian Blackshirts. A fierce battle broke out between the two sides. The stairs were littered with the bodies of Blackshirts. The Germans fought their way from the first floor to the seventh, paying a heavy price to finally drive these stubborn bastards out of the building.

With the loss of one building, the gap in the Blackshirts’ defense line grew even larger. A part of the block was isolated, unable to retreat or be reinforced. The battle quickly escalated in scale. The Germans brought in several tanks from the armored units outside the city. The defenders’ real ordeal had just begun.

With the firing of a single tank, a huge hole was blown in the wall of a building. Debris flew everywhere. This centuries-old building was destroyed by a single tank shell. The masterfully-carved sculptures on the walls, and the grotesque gargoyles on the roof, all crumbled from the vibration, falling to the ground and turning into worthless rubble.

Some Blackshirts tried to counter-attack the German tanks, but these brave men were quickly turned into sieves by the hull machine guns of the German Panther tanks. These poor men, armed only with rifles and simple grenades, could only flee in disarray under the fire of the MG42s, with no ability to fight back.

“Leader! The Germans have taken the nearby buildings. Our soldiers have suffered heavy casualties…” The Air Force major, clutching a pistol, burst into Mussolini’s office. His uniform was covered in grime, a far cry from the respectable state he had been in when he had left earlier.

That poor naval captain had gone mad. He was sitting stiffly on a chair just outside the door. He had passed this madman on his way in, but the other hadn’t even had the interest to look at him. This poor madman was just muttering to himself, repeating the same phrase: “Why, why did the fleet mutiny?”

Mussolini made no comment on the battle. He just suddenly laughed and then said, “You see, when we actually put up a serious resistance, the Germans also have a hard time, don’t they? Why couldn’t those other armies be like these troops, and stop the Germans at the border?”

If every unit had been willing to return fire, then the Italy he led, Mussolini, could not possibly have fallen into such a tragic state in just two days. Unfortunately, there had been very few such instances of resistance, and most of them had been so weak.

“Leader! You must leave! Pick some men, take some money, you can hide in the countryside… They won’t be able to find you!” The Air Force major was fiercely loyal. Even now, he was still trying to get Mussolini to change his mind. “As long as you leave, there is still hope, Leader!”

Mussolini did not give a direct answer, but instead, he asked a question that was unrelated and somewhat baffling to the major. The question was strange and very sudden, and it made the major freeze for a moment. “Do you know what my biggest regret is?”

“No… I don’t know.” The Air Force major shook his head, wiping the black soot from his face with his hand. He didn’t even realize that this had just made his face even filthier.

“You certainly wouldn’t know. You were still very young at the time… We once had an even stauncher ally in Germany,” Mussolini said, seeming to be reminiscing. He stood up as he spoke, walked to his confidant’s side, and took out a handkerchief to wipe the smudges from his face. “That man’s name was Adolf Hitler.”

He tossed the dirty handkerchief onto the floor and then continued, as if to himself, “This Hitler was the German ally I had my eye on… Unfortunately, he failed. He was defeated by Akado Rudolph, who at the time did not have nearly as much influence! At that time, I felt that I might have lost a true friend.”

Outside the window, German soldiers had already begun to fire on the building they were in. The bullets shattered the first-floor windows. A tank, under the cover of infantry, had already aimed its cannon at this building. The Germans could rush in at any moment, but the Blackshirts downstairs were still, with their flesh and blood, trying their best to buy Mussolini some time.

This was no time for nostalgia. The Air Force major, pistol in hand, pressed himself against the window and glanced down at the battlefield. He happened to see a group of soldiers in the courtyard being cut to pieces by the machine guns on a German tank, collapsing onto the lawn.

He knew this was the last chance. He quickly grabbed Mussolini’s arm with his other hand and, while pulling him, said, “Leader, you must leave this place! We’ll go to the basement, take the air-raid shelter, and we’ll be out of this encirclement in no time! Believe me, as long as I have a breath left in me, I will protect your safety!”

Mussolini was clearly reluctant to cooperate, but he did not struggle violently. He was used to this state of being carried along by events. He had been in this inexplicable state for several days now. And so the two of them reached the door and pulled it open.

Unexpectedly, the mad naval captain was blocking the way, holding his own sidearm. Before the Air Force major could even react, the madman had raised his hand and had fired a shot through the major’s head. The blood splattered all over Mussolini’s face, and he was so startled that he fell backward onto the floor with a dull thud.

“No one can betray! Hahaha! The fleet is still ours! The fleet is still ours! Long live the Leader!” he shrieked, waving his pistol in front of the terrified Mussolini. The guards standing outside the door heard the gunshot in the room and quickly rushed in to see what had happened. Seeing the scene before them, they opened fire without a second word. Before Mussolini could even say anything, the mad naval captain had been turned into a sieve by the bullets.

Blood once again sprayed all over Mussolini’s face. He was then surrounded by a group of Blackshirts. Before he could even recover his senses, a group of people were asking him all sorts of questions. “Leader, what on earth happened?” “Hasn’t he gone mad? Why did he open fire?” “We must leave this place, Leader… Are you going to leave?”

Before Mussolini could answer these questions, the army colonel, his face streaked with blood, came running quickly from the stairs. He clearly didn’t know what had just happened, but he had something more important to report to his Leader. “Leader! This is bad, the Germans have already broken into the 1st-floor corridor!”

“Our men are about to be overrun! There’s another stairwell on the other side that can go down. We can get into the air-raid shelter and leave from there! Leader, follow me!” the army colonel said. As he spoke, he reached out to help Mussolini up. It was only then that he noticed the blood-splattered Mussolini, and the body of the Air Force major, his eyes wide open, beside him.

There was no time to dwell on these messy things. He pulled Mussolini up from the floor and then, pulling him by the arm, he led these guards and rushed down the stairs. This was not a simple two-story building. For these anxious men, the winding staircase was also a kind of endless torment.

“Are the civilian clothes ready?” the colonel asked his confidant, who was following behind him as they descended the stairs. He had been preparing to leave this place all along. A few sets of inconspicuous clothes—these were the necessities that had been prepared in the underground air-raid shelter a long time ago.

After a great deal of effort to escort Mussolini to the first floor, these Blackshirts discovered that this place had already become a bloody battlefield. The men beside them were falling one after another. After a dozen had died, the rest had finally managed to get Mussolini into the staircase that led down to the underground air-raid shelter.

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