The Godfather, Part II
The remaining German battleships and the fleet Shtal had brought along were more than enough to support the landing operations. Even up to World War II, nothing possessed the sheer destructive power of a battleship's bombardment. Only railway guns could even begin to compare to naval artillery.
'This is practically... a strategic weapon, isn't it?' Shtal's estimation of battleships rose significantly.
Every single shell fired carried enough force to reduce reinforced concrete buildings to absolute dust. On land, artillery pieces had to be firmly anchored to the ground; otherwise, they could not withstand the violent recoil of a truly massive cannon. But battleships were different. Floating on the water, they could absorb the immense recoil of their heavy guns without issue.
Of course, Shtal, who was actually aboard one of these ships, felt his seasickness flaring up again from the constant, violent shuddering.
Shuddering at the raw, unprecedented power of naval bombardment, Shtal turned to Admiral Hupper.
"If we had these back in Alsace-Lorraine, we wouldn't have had to suffer nearly as much."
"Indeed. They are truly magnificent weapons—provided you ignore the fact that maintaining just one of these beasts devours a literal percentage of the national budget."
"..."
"And, of course, the slight detail that they can be easily sunk by airplanes or torpedoes that cost less than a hundredth of their price."
There was a reason artillery was called the god of war. And since they had spent so much money building them, they might as well use them. Even bombers couldn't match the terrifying majesty of a battleship's bombardment. Though the rate of fire was slow, each shell gouged out a massive crater upon impact, looking for all the world as if a meteor had struck the earth.
Thus, the fleet under Hupper and Shtal rained relentless fire upon the landing zone until their ammunition reserves were completely depleted.
Of course, reducing the landing zone to rubble did not mean the actual landing would be a walk in the park. If amphibious assaults were that easy, Winston Churchill wouldn't have ended up under house arrest, a punishment practically akin to imprisonment.
Behind the ruins, in areas untouched by the naval bombardment, trenches and defensive lines still held firm. No matter how incompetent the Italian troops stationed in Sicily were, the inherent dangers of a landing operation meant the Hungarian Revolutionary Guard would inevitably suffer significant casualties.
Yet, the landing proceeded far more smoothly and easily than Shtal had anticipated. This was because someone was actively coordinating with their arrival from behind the pathetic Italian defensive lines.
Just as Italy's national revolutionary movement had taken a unique path, the Italian Stahlist movement had also developed in a completely different direction compared to other regions—much like how it had mutated in France and Germany.
"We've had enough of the tyranny of those arrogant northern Sardinians!"
"How much longer must Naples remain a backwater?"
Naples was a city where Stahlism had flourished exceptionally well. This was because Stahlism had become inextricably linked with the southern independence sentiment, serving as a rallying cry against the northern bourgeoisie. Naturally, they had faced brutal suppression from the northern national revolutionaries, eventually forcing them to flee Naples and seek refuge in Sicily. In the process, however, their brand of Stahlism underwent a rather drastic mutation.
"Don Corleone, the time has come to strike the Italian army."
"...Gather the peasants who pay us protection money. Blood for blood. The time has come to fulfill our oath of vendetta."
"Yes, Godfather. I will dispatch our hitmen to throw the bombs first."
"Do it."
The Stahlist organization had essentially been branded a criminal syndicate. Just as the American Mafia had become inextricably linked with labor unions in another world, the Sicilian Mafia had become inseparable from the Agricultural Cooperative in this one.
Initially, the Naples Agricultural Cooperative had arrived in Sicily filled with grand dreams and high hopes.
"Unlike Naples, Sicily is beyond the reach of the Italian central government. Surely we can establish and run our own Agricultural Cooperative here, can't we?"
The hopes of the Naples Agricultural Cooperative were a complete miscalculation. Separatism only thrives when a region is not actually separated. Because Naples was effectively "ruled" by the northern central government, independence movements and separatism had found fertile ground there.
"We have barely any registered cooperative members, and we don't even have the basic funds to keep the organization running!"
"But we need at least some military force if we are to stand against the Kingdom of Italy. At this rate, the government will wipe us out in no time."
"...Sicily, like us, has a long history of being marginalized by the northerners. So why is there so little support?"
The answer was simple. The peasants of Sicily were already living in their own self-contained kingdom under a feudal order. Sicily was already "separated" from the central government, operating as a de facto independent state. The Italian central government only managed to conscript soldiers and collect taxes through sheer, painful effort. The Sicilians treated anyone from the mainland like foreign diplomats, making it impossible for the state to establish any real authority.
"What? An Agricultural Cooperative? Why on earth would we need that?"
"If it's a cooperative, we already have something similar—gasp!"
"...Don't go talking to outsiders so easily. I'll pretend I didn't hear that this time."
A quiet, secretive atmosphere hung over the entire island of Sicily, accompanied by an inexplicable hostility toward outsiders from Naples. This grim, insular environment had prevented the Agricultural Cooperative and Stahlism from taking root.
And what was the even bigger problem? The true lords of Sicily were the Mafia. The Mafia functioned as a shadow state—collecting taxes, providing administrative and judicial systems, and protecting the populace from external threats. Of course, they also handled the "underground" affairs of state, such as smuggling, counterfeiting currency and official documents, assassinations, and bribery.
Ultimately, the Stahlist activists who had fled Naples had no choice but to make contact with the Sicilian Mafia.
Don Corleone, the supreme boss of the Sicilian Mafia, initially rejected the Stahlist activists who had rolled in from the outside, just as any other Sicilian would.
"...A bunch of educated fools from Naples, I see. We hold no love for those Sardinian trash either, so we will grant you protection in exchange for a modest fee. Keep your heads down, stay quiet, and leave once things settle down in Italy. Sicilians will never trust an outsider anyway."
But Benedetto Croce, the president of the Naples Agricultural Cooperative, had no intention of backing down so easily.
"Which is precisely why we came to find you, Don Corleone—the boss of bosses."
"Is that so? Are you proposing a deal? We have lived perfectly well without you. If anything, your presence has only brought us headaches."
"You cannot live as a mere mafia don forever, can you?"
"You dare?"
"Right now, Italy's power is too weak to project its influence all the way to Sicily. But how long do you think that will last?"
"..."
"What you need, Godfather, is a legitimate title, honor, and authority. We can give you that."
To put it elegantly, the only difference between the Mafia and a sovereign state is the presence of "sovereignty." To put it bluntly, it is the fact that they are treated as a "criminal organization" by the rest of the world. Even if the Mafia executed stock manipulation, smuggling, and assassinations with far more professionalism than intelligence agencies like the KGB, they were ultimately still just a gang of thugs.
In the end, Don Corleone recruited the brilliant mind of Benedetto Croce. The Don became the Cooperative President. The sotto capo became the Vice President. The consigliere became the Planning Director. The soldato became the Revolutionary Guard. Thus, the Corleone family was reorganized into the Sicily Agricultural Cooperative.
With this, the Corleone family became far more sophisticated. Of course, Benedetto Croce's original plan had been to absorb the Sicilian Mafia into a "legitimate" Agricultural Cooperative. However, the exact opposite happened. The Sicily Agricultural Cooperative was slowly being devoured by the Sicilian Mafia.
It was highly reminiscent of how, in the original history, the grand communist ideal of a global revolution led by the Comintern had been swallowed whole by the state apparatus of the Soviet Union. Furthermore, from the government's perspective, both the Agricultural Cooperative and the Mafia were nothing but criminal organizations. And by the standards of criminal syndicates, the Mafia possessed far deeper traditions and a much more established hierarchy.
"Ah, Executive Director Croce! Heheh, our passport and visa counterfeiting business for those emigrating to America has been incredibly lucrative lately. We're thinking of dipping our toes into counterfeiting currency soon, so we'd love some of your advice!"
"Have you lost your mind? Have you spent so much time with the mob that you've actually become a gangster? Forging passports? Counterfeiting currency?"
"But Director! We have to make money somehow if we're going to line the pockets of the local officials."
The subordinate mobster—no, the cooperative member—made a circle with his thumb and index finger, gesturing the sign for money. Croce let out a deep, heavy sigh.
"And now bribery too?"
"Think about it, Executive Director. Our cooperative could be raided and wiped out by the government at any moment. We have to grease their palms just to keep our heads down and survive."
"But at the very least... we should be running a legitimate business!"
"You mean collecting membership fees from our members and offering them legal protection?"
"Yes!"
"How is that any different from the Mafia's protection racket?"
"..."
"Besides, isn't our cooperative already branded a criminal organization anyway? It's not like we can run a legitimate business without breaking the law in our current position."
Croce found himself utterly unable to refute his subordinate's words. In truth, there was only a paper-thin line separating a revolutionary from a gangster. Hadn't Russian revolutionaries like Joseph Stalin funded their cause by robbing banks and trains?
'Dammit! How on earth did our Agricultural Cooperative end up in this state?'
Benedetto Croce was hard-pressed to find an excuse. At least in terms of their operational methods, it was incredibly difficult to distinguish a revolutionary from a mafioso. Both built organizations outside the boundaries of state power, raised funds through illicit means, and utilized violence. Both secured illegal funding for their cause and maintained strict, secretive internal discipline. If there was any difference at all, was it merely the grand ambition of wanting to change the world?
"Sigh... Fine, I understand. But in return, make sure you prepare a lecture on Stahlism for the local residents."
"These people have lived their entire lives ignoring the law. Do you really think they'll sit down and listen to that?"
"Just do as you're told! I command, and you obey! Isn't that the code of our organization?!"
"M-My apologies, Director!"
The sheer absurdity of their situation made Croce's blood boil. Unable to contain his frustration, Croce kicked his subordinate hard in the shin. The man bowed repeatedly, muttering apologies as he scrambled out of the office.
...Slowly but surely, Croce was transforming into the brain of a criminal syndicate.
Now, returning to the beginning of 1916. For both Executive Director Croce and Don Corleone, Shtal's landing in Sicily was a golden opportunity. For Corleone, it was a chance to shed the label of a criminal syndicate and gain legitimate authority and honor. For Croce, it was finally the moment to introduce "orthodox" Stahlism to Sicily.
"Unleash hell with the smuggled submachine guns!"
"The time has finally come to use the submachine guns we've been hiding!"
The hitmen—no, the Revolutionary Guard partisans—mobilized their hidden criminal tools—no, weapons for the revolution—and struck the Italian army from the rear. The elite, highly trained Italian troops had all been deployed to the northern front, leaving only the most pathetic, incompetent soldiers stationed in backwaters like Sicily.
Frankly speaking, in terms of individual combat capability, there was little difference between the regular soldiers and the mafiosi. If anything, the mobsters, who had spent their lives in constant turf wars and assassinations, might have had the upper hand. Honestly, without machine guns and heavy artillery, a regular army wasn't all that terrifying. And the Italian army had aimed their machine guns toward the sea at the Austrians, not toward their own rear.
"The Stahlists in the rear are supporting our landing!"
"Push forward! Sicily is ours!"
Thanks to the support of the Sicilian Mafia—no, the Agricultural Cooperative—Shtal successfully completed the landing with ease! However, once he actually set foot on the island and witnessed the state of Sicily, he could not help but be utterly appalled.
"Excuse me... but what exactly are the primary achievements of the Sicilian Mafia—ah, I mean, the Sicily Agricultural Cooperative?"
"We, too, are members of the Crusaders fighting against the National Revolutionaries. We have been disrupting Italy's trade economy from the rear."
"You mean smuggling?"
"Furthermore, we have been executing operations to destabilize the enemy nation's monetary policy."
"You mean counterfeiting?"
It wasn't that they weren't being helpful... Massive piles of Italian lire and French francs were stacked high inside the cooperative's warehouses. They had undoubtedly been quietly undermining the enemy's economy behind the scenes.
"Wait, what is that over there?"
Shtal's eyes caught sight of several mafiosi—no, cooperative members—hurriedly moving heavy bags out of the warehouse. He immediately ordered them to open the bags, and the contents left him utterly speechless.
"...These are German marks and Austrian kronen."
"T-These are genuine bills!"
"We'll see about that once we investigate."
Shtal slapped his forehead and let out a long, weary sigh. Just how much have these bastards embezzled?