Chapter 153
Chapter 153
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Emergence of NATO (1)
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Palmiro Togliatti, General Secretary of the Italian People's Republic, was born in 1893 into a middle-class family in Genoa.
Thanks to his family's comfortable circumstances, Togliatti had no trouble entering the University of Turin to study law.
During that time, he developed a certain sense of unease.
Was this country—Italy—truly heading in the right direction?
The Kingdom was pursuing an endless expansionist path driven by a thirst for war.
The Austro-Prussian War of 1866 and the capture of Rome in 1870 could at least be understood as steps toward the grand cause of Italian unification.
But the Ethiopian War of 1895 and the Italo-Turkish War of 1911 were nothing more than naked expressions of imperialist desires for territorial expansion.
Italy was clearly trying to follow in the footsteps of the imperialist great powers.
This adventurism led straight to Italy's entry into World War I in 1915.
As a result, Italy had transformed into a nation of war, fighting ceaselessly without even a single generation knowing peace.
"A country where no generation has ever enjoyed peace—how utterly miserable is that?"
Togliatti did not want Italy to become the Prussia of the Mediterranean.
Joining the Socialist Party, and later leading the founding of the Italian Communist Party amid the aftermath of the 1917 Russian Revolution, were all efforts to make Italy a better nation, even if just a little.
But Togliatti's efforts went unrewarded.
Just one year after the Communist Party's founding, Mussolini's Fascist regime took power, leaving Togliatti deeply disillusioned.
"This country must shed its imperialist and fascist tendencies."
While dodging the Fascist regime's crackdowns and hiding here and there, Togliatti refined his convictions.
Then, in 1943, as the long yoke of Fascism began to waver, Togliatti rose up with his comrades in northern Italy.
"Italy must be reborn as a nation for its people!"
At his call, the Salò Republic melted away like ice cream exposed to sunlight.
Togliatti commanded 300,000 Communist troops, striving to plant the roots of communism in northern Italy.
He believed such efforts alone could transform postwar Italy from an imperialist state into a communist one.
But reality was harsh.
Northern Italy became the Italian People's Republic, while the south became the Southern Kingdom.
Italy was thus divided in two.
Nominally, the Kingdom of Italy held sovereignty over the entire peninsula, but in reality, two regimes coexisted.
What else could this be but division?
Togliatti had not wanted this outcome.
"A divided homeland? How could anyone accept such a thing?"
But Togliatti accepted reality.
If Italy's division was the reality, then for the sake of tomorrow, he would fortify northern Italy into an even stronger revolutionary stronghold.
Togliatti organized the institutions of the People's Republic and vastly strengthened its military power.
He himself did not desire war, but it was preparation against the fascist south.
"Someday, the imperialist fascists of the southern half will collapse on their own, just as they did in 1943. All we need to do is hold our line and grow until then."
Once the fascists self-destructed, the homeland would rise again as a unified nation.
It was with this belief that Togliatti had led the nation.
Yet today, Soviet Foreign Minister Molotov had delivered shocking news.
"Prepare for war? What on earth is this sudden talk?"
"Comrade General Secretary, the international situation has changed. Britain's and France's impotence at Suez has been confirmed, and the American imperialists have shown themselves to be powerless masters who can't even control their own dogs. Shouldn't we move now, while they're this sloppy, to unify Italy?"
The words themselves were logical.
But if northern Italy started a war, its people would bear the cost.
To Togliatti, who had always despised war, the call to prepare for it was utterly unwelcome.
Of course, he could counter with this:
What about northern Italy's overwhelming military superiority?
In truth, this army wasn't sized just for the Southern Kingdom.
Considering northern Italy's geopolitical position, sandwiched between France and the Southern Kingdom, 250,000 troops were the bare minimum for defense.
Togliatti firmly rejected Molotov's proposal.
"I cannot sin against the people."
"This is the will of the Kremlin, comrade."
Stalin's orders.
But I follow the will of the Italian people.
A resolute light flickered in Togliatti's eyes.
"Just because it's the Kremlin's will doesn't mean the Italian Communist Party must obey. All communist parties are equal, aren't they?"
Molotov was speechless at Togliatti's retort.
In theory, yes—but who would dare defy the Kremlin?
Even that troublemaker dictator Tito respected Stalin's authority. Northern Italy of all places?
It was unthinkable.
Molotov boasted that the Union could deter American intervention, revealing intelligence on the Soviet nuclear program imminent.
But Togliatti remained unmoved.
Molotov reported this unwelcome news back to the Kremlin.
"What a shortsighted fellow. Comrade Togliatti is."
Stalin replied nonchalantly, scribbling on his documents.
And a few days later, Togliatti was shot by a group of assailants during an event.
Even as he bled out, Togliatti earnestly implored the party members around him.
"Comrades. Promise me. No war—no war, absolutely. If we do, we're finished."
Togliatti thought of Spain, devastated by its civil war.
Italy, already ravaged once by war, would be beyond recovery if it faced civil war too.
Wishing the Communist Party would not commit such a sin, Togliatti closed his eyes.
Cold raindrops bid farewell to the end of the red communist.
*
"Togliatti is dead, Your Excellency."
The words shocked me.
No, that guy was still in his prime, wasn't he? And he's gone just like that?
"Cause of death?"
"Assassination."
A foul stench wafted from those words.
"Assassination?"
Intelligence Agency reported every detail of how Togliatti was assassinated.
An attack by gunmen.
This was eerily similar to Sergei Kirov's demise in the 1930s, when he was emerging as Stalin's rival.
Of course, there's no proof Stalin had Kirov killed.
Even Khrushchev couldn't pin it on him in that case.
But there was a feeling.
Kirov might be debatable, but Togliatti was definitely Stalin's doing.
"Who's the successor?"
"Ruggero Grieco, former Propaganda Director of the Italian Communist Party who served as General Secretary once."
"He's not close to the Kremlin or the Soviet Communist Party, by any chance?"
"He was an Executive Committee member of the Comintern and in charge of Radio Moscow."
What the hell.
He's completely under Stalin's influence.
Grieco's inclinations or values didn't matter.
"Got it for now. Keep monitoring the situation."
"Understood."
This was turning dirty.
When I first sketched the outline of the Cold War, I saw tearing Italy apart as a fitting piece of land to heighten tensions.
But suddenly fascists were rampaging, and massive colonial wars erupted out of nowhere, messing up the board.
Britain and France had become even bigger idiots than in the original timeline, and America was out of its mind with McCarthy suddenly taking the stage.
In this situation, if an Italian war broke out, could the West even respond properly?
Honestly, I was skeptical about that.
Realistically, only America could go to war.
"If things look bad for America, they might even drop the bomb.'
If they did, the Soviets would use theirs too.
No intel, but I was certain the Soviets were nearly done with their nuclear program by now.
Two superpowers ignorant of nuclear terror lobbing nukes like a pseudo-Korean War.
The thought alone sent chills down my spine.
Italy was headed straight for hell, at least.
I bit my lip and called for Jeong Gil-i.
"Get the car ready now."
I couldn't bear the anxiety.
I headed straight to the Energy Research Institute for Human Peace.
Upon arrival, I grabbed Heisenberg and asked about progress on nuclear weapons.
"Well, I can't say for sure, but it might take another two or three years."
Right?
We're still far off?
This pace was only possible without the Jewish buff.
This was trouble.
Was there a way to delay the war?
Like taking out Grieco the way we did Togliatti?
I considered it, but such ops could tank diplomacy if exposed.
I brooded all the way back to the residence.
Even at home, my face stayed grim, so my wife cautiously asked.
"Prime Minister, what's wrong? Why do you look so dark?"
"It's nothing."
It was something, but not for consulting with my wife.
"Then, how about some exercise to change your mood?"
"Exercise?"
My wife glanced toward the bed.
She hiked up her nightgown slightly to show off her underwear.
Rolling in bed with my wife wasn't bad, but today wasn't for wrestling.
"No. You go ahead and sleep."
I sent my wife to bed and sat at my desk, lost in thought.
Two hours passed with no good ideas.
As I sighed deeply, a bolt of inspiration struck.
"Do I really need drastic measures? I can just scare Stalin."
In this world, the Western bloc was in chaos from fascist uprisings and such, delaying NATO's creation.
If I forced NATO's creation now, wouldn't the Soviets back off?
At least, it would delay the war—I was sure of it.
I didn't even need to check.
Decision made, I grabbed the phone.
"Foreign Ministry, please."