Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: World War II - What Are We Fighting For (5)
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December 31, 1939
South Tyrol (Trentino-Alto Adige), Northern Italy
The Italian Army inwardly rejoiced upon seeing the German defensive line. It was sloppily constructed, forming a salient perfect for an attack and exposing vulnerable weaknesses everywhere.
The Germans must have been preparing a hasty retreat, leaving them no time to establish a proper defensive line.
Thinking this, the Italian high command ordered an offensive, but it didn't take them long to realize their mistake.
The salient, which at first glance seemed easy to attack, concealed a web of fire far denser than the Italians had imagined, literally grinding the approaching soldiers into meat.
Unable to watch any longer, the Italian high command ordered an attack on the more sparsely defended sections of the line, leading with their armored units instead of the salient.
But the news that reached them, as they awaited a triumphant report, was an unbelievable situation update.
"E-Enemy tanks to the front! Aaaah!"
The armored units, which had been joyfully penetrating the weak resistance of the flimsy defensive line, encountered ambushing StuG IIIs and began to take heavy losses. Before they knew it, they were enveloped in the heart of the enemy's kill zone, being hammered from all sides.
[HQ, HQ, reinforcements needed! This isn't a weak defensive line! It's a trap waiting for prey!]
A long silence fell over the command headquarters following the urgent report from General Garibaldi on the front lines.
Weren't their forces superior to ours? Why does it feel like the enemy has more troops?
"...For now, send in the infantry reserves to rescue them."
"Y-Yes, sir. Your Excellency."
When the offensive that was supposed to bring results turned into an encirclement, Marshal Graziani dispatched the nearby infantry corps.
But just one day later, more grim news arrived.
"The reinforcing infantry corps have been encircled along with them? How is that possible?"
"W-Well, sir, they've concentrated their artillery and are tearing up the terrain itself. Supplies can't get through, and the soldiers don't dare enter the roads, which are raining shells."
The generals in the headquarters swallowed dryly.
This was an offensive. A battle to push back the enemy's defensive line, to seize territory in a push-and-pull.
But what was this situation, where a thinly spread defensive line, which looked incapable of holding its ground, writhed as if alive, devouring their troops as soon as they entered?
Didn't this feel more like the enemy was attacking our isolated and encircled forces, while we were the ones defending?
It was impossible for them to imagine, at least by their conventional standards, that the seemingly haphazard defensive line was actually a meticulously planned network, with each front positioned to provide organic fire support, taking into account all terrain features and the weaponry of each unit.
"I-In that case, send the armored reserves."
They decided to dispatch their armored reserves—which included a unit of M11/39 medium tanks saved for the decisive final push—to rescue their beleaguered forces.
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"Aaaah!"
"Pietro!"
Seeing his comrade collapse, spewing blood, the Italian soldier clutched the steel helmet on his head with trembling hands and cowered in the trench.
It was the third day since they had been encircled after underestimating the seemingly weak defensive line. The Italian troops were on the verge of a full-blown panic.
We were told our forces were far superior, so why are we the ones surrounded and under attack?
From the perspective of the front lines, it felt as though the Germans outnumbered the Italians three to one.
Italy's proud tankettes, which had led the charge, had been mostly annihilated in a large-scale ambush. The few that survived were useless, unable to maneuver while trapped and pounded in this encirclement.
The only small comfort was that the poor weather kept the enemy air force grounded.
The Italian Air Force, which had freely bombed Tyrol in the early days of the war, had long since lost air superiority after being practically vaporized by the enemy air force flying in from mainland Germany.
"This is madness. Why, why are we fighting a defensive battle!"
General Italo Garibaldi couldn't believe the reality unfolding before him.
He thought he had broken through the enemy's weak defenses, but now he was trapped inside their well-constructed kill box, being relentlessly pummeled. No matter how he looked at it, the situation was incomprehensible.
"General, the armored division has arrived at our rear! We can escape with their cover!"
"Oh, finally!"
General Garibaldi, belying the proud name he carried, was on the verge of tears with joy. Sadly, their elation was short-lived.
"General, our armored units are being attacked by enemy armor!"
The M11/39 tanks, which looked imposing by Italian standards, were being attacked from the flank by German Panzer IVs that had emerged from the side.
Italian engineers had touted it as a revolutionary tank, capable of destroying enemy tanks with its hull-mounted main gun and mowing down infantry on its flanks with its rotating turret's machine guns. But harsh reality was a far cry from the ideal.
The "new" Italian tanks, most of which lacked proper radios, were blown apart one after another as the Panzer IVs concentrated fire on their flanks before they could even turn their hulls.
"St-Stop them! Stop them somehow! If we lose them, we're finished!"
But no matter how fervently General Garibaldi ordered his divisions, the Italian troops, already paralyzed by fear within the encirclement, were barely able to move.
Realizing that even their reserves, including the new tanks, had been baited, the Italian army continued to throw in more units to rescue them. By the time they understood they were just feeding their forces piecemeal into concentrated artillery fire and an armored division, it was too late.
After several days of fighting, the encircled Italian forces were nearly annihilated, with only a tiny fraction surviving to retreat.
Erwin von Witzleben, an infantry general, had delegated command of the armored units to his chief of staff, Walter Model, throughout the battle, allowing him to deploy them at the right time and place. His choice brought catastrophic losses to the Italian army.
Instead of just setting up a defensive line and waiting, Walter Model's "offensive defense"—luring the attacking enemy into revealing weaknesses and then striking those weaknesses—shocked both Germany and Italy in its first engagement.
In the two-week battle between 15 German divisions and 40 Italian corps (divisions), German casualties amounted to around 5,000, while Italian casualties reached approximately 40,000.
Witzleben's Army Group South not only bought time for Wilhelm Ritter von Leeb's main force to retreat back to Germany but also succeeded in evacuating all the pro-German locals from South Tyrol to Tyrol.
The Italian army attempted to pursue the withdrawing Army Group South again, but they only suffered more losses in the face of the Luftwaffe's fierce bombing, the rearguard's valiant stand, and booby traps.
Thanks to Walter Model, who had meticulously prepared for the winter, ensuring a smooth supply of winter clothing and equipment from the homeland and even preparing sleds for equipment transport, Army Group South retreated across the Alps into Tyrol with minimal stragglers and equipment loss, unlike the Italian army.
Italy, having at least retaken the territory, propagandized the event as a great Italian victory, but this only earned them international ridicule and humiliation.
The Italian army, now terrified of Army Group South's defensive line, which they dubbed the "Meat Grinder," couldn't even dream of launching another attack on Tyrol.
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January 15, 1940
Budapest, the capital of Hungary
"Being with you like this, Vice-Chancellor, reminds me of the old days."
Hearing Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs Erich Kordt's words, I replied with a smile.
"Haha. It wasn't really that long ago, was it?"
"You're right. It's only been a few years. And yet, it feels like a very long time has passed."
When I first attended the von Kleist gathering, Kordt had put in a good word for me with Weizsäcker, which gave me a small voice in the Black Orchestra.
Thinking back, we've been through quite a lot together since then, from the Munich Agreement to Operation Widerstand. It was an eventful time.
Though, after the new government was formed, I hadn't often worked with him directly.
"So, when are you getting married?"
Erich Kordt had known Claudia before he knew me, so unlike others, he showed interest in her as well, not just me.
"Well, I'd like to. But the times aren't exactly helping."
On August 15th this year—my birthday, and historically, Korean Liberation Day—I'll be thirty. I'm starting to feel the pressure. It doesn't help that my journalist is such a charming woman.
"Haha, that is a bit of a shame."
"Tell me about it."
Claudia had coolly suggested we just register our marriage and skip the ceremony. I appreciated her consideration, but isn't that a bit too much?
Anyway.
With General von Witzleben and General Model brilliantly holding off the Italian army and enabling General Wilhelm Ritter von Leeb's main force to escape, Germany had successfully put out the most immediate fire.
However, in the meantime, the Polish army launched another major offensive into East Prussia, forcing us to lose a significant portion of the region.
Fortunately, we managed to hold onto Königsberg, the most crucial city, after the *Reichsmarine* crushed the Polish navy in Danzig, anchored its main warships, and unleashed a relentless bombardment.
Of course, the price was having to restock those expensive shells and being unable to refuse the beaming Admiral Raeder's request for an increased naval budget, which is breaking my back...
Still, it's better than giving up Königsberg.
Wilhelm III had secretly wanted to change the navy's name back to the *Kaisermarine*, but the idea was rejected for sounding too much like an emperor's personal army for a democratic nation's navy. It was settled as the *Reichsmarine*.
As we were pondering our next problem, Hungary, having relatively successfully weathered the initial crisis of the war, we received an unexpected proposal for a secret meeting from the Hungarians themselves.
And that's why Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs Erich Kordt and I are now in Hungary.
"What do you suppose Regent Horthy has in mind, calling for us?"
"I'm not sure. We'll have to hear him out, but I suspect it has to do with the current state of the war."
They probably joined the fray thinking Poland and Italy would be more than enough to crush us. Seeing how things are turning out, it's highly likely they're having second thoughts and requested this meeting.
Although Hungary proposed the idea of the "Axis Powers," it hasn't actually joined them yet.
They received approval from Poland and France to annul the Treaty of Trianon and declared a massive rearmament, but they still haven't expressed clear hostility towards us.
With only a small retinue, we walked through Budapest, the beautiful riverside capital of Hungary, a nation that was once a great power in Eastern Europe before losing vast territories to the Treaty of Trianon.
We then went to the hotel they had indicated and entered the room they had reserved for us.
Upon entering, we saw a middle-aged man sitting in a chair, dressed in a splendid naval uniform adorned with numerous medals, and a younger man standing as if to assist him.
The middle-aged man rose from his seat and spoke.
"Welcome. You're right on time."
Honestly, I hadn't expected him to be waiting in person.
I was surprised, but thanks to my experience, I was able to speak without too much of a delay.
"It is an honor to meet you. I am Dietrich Schacht, Vice-Chancellor of the Chancellery."
"Erich Kordt, Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs."
The middle-aged man looked at me with a stern expression for a moment, then broke into a grin.
"The pleasure is all mine, to meet such high officials of the Fourth Reich. I am Miklós Horthy, Knight of Nagybánya. Well, I'm also a Vice Admiral of a country with no sea and the Regent of a kingdom with no king."