Battle of the Third Reich

"Several of you go to search the room on the left, and others come with me." A sergeant of the military police hurried down the stairs with a Beretta m38 submachine gun, pointing at the end of the corridor and ordering loudly.

"He can't escape alone. There must be a lot of his compatriots here, and digging out all these people is the order of His Majesty the King."

Colonel Paul drank aloud, then turned his face to his subordinates and said: "You take the rest to the garden, there are many corners where you can hide, you must search carefully, if you know What to do." The colonel gestured with his finger on the side of his neck.

"Understood, we will find him, sir." The major saluted Paul and then led a team of guards to the garden.

"Have you heard the alarm bell there? They finally found you missing." Pitlola closed the curtain and walked to the Italian dictator.

"Who would have thought that there would be a secret passage to the outside of the palace in the dungeon." Mussolini put on a striped suit with a pale blue background. He hadn't worn his daily clothes for a long time.

"There are always things under the pope's crown that need to be avoided by the outside world. For example, passing some important personnel and prohibited items. This passage has been closed for two centuries. No one knows its existence, thanks to the church's preservation of secret files. Habit." Pitro picked up the teapot on the table and poured Mussolini with a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mussolini, you can't leave here for the time being. Now your supporters are wrestling with the people of Badoglio on the street, and now I can't guarantee the safety of your life when I go out. Nor can your duties allow you to leave from here."

"I have to go back to my people, they will be able to guarantee our safety." Mussolini did not move the cup of tea.

"Can you identify who you are? Mr. Mussolini. It seems that you still haven't figured out where you are, and what you want to kill most now is actually those of your comrades. Because of your death They are more beneficial, especially if you have left them such a large and attractive legacy. Everyone wants to be Augustus, and the dead Caesar is the greatest asset, but I don’t know which is Mark Anthony, Which one is Octavian." Pitleau smiled and picked up his teacup, gracefully bowing his head to take a sip of sweet tea.

"So what about you? Baron Pietro, who are you?" Mussolini's face became ugly, and he realized that the other party might be telling the truth.

"Me, I'm just an insignificant little person." Pitlault pulled a cigarette out of the pot on the table.

"Is it okay." the baron asked.

"You are free." Mussolini nodded sullenly.

"Thank you, Mr. Mussolini." Pitló struck the match and lit the cigarette.

"How history develops is not something that a person like me can control. This coup is not as simple as you think, I just happened to be involved in it, but in retrospect, the inexplicable order is indeed a bit suspicious, maybe It really has to do with my boss." Pitleau spit out a smoke ring.

"Don't ask who my boss is, but I believe you should have guessed it."

"The Socialist Party is not no, it can't be them, are they German? Are you working for the Germans!" Mussolini looked at Pitleau in surprise.

"It's smart, but it's strange. My Prime Minister, everyone has a price tag. Although mine is a little higher, if someone is willing to bid," Pitleau shrugged slightly.

"I have a family of people to support. I failed to invest in the business and owe a lot of money to the bank. I personally like to enjoy life, so when the boss's person comes to the door, I have no way to refuse."

"You are not afraid of me revealing your identity."

"It doesn't matter. When this work is over, my family will emigrate to the United States. My boss is much more generous than our majesty our king. Anyway, I saved your life from Badoglio, You won’t shoot your benefactor."

"Of course not, but we are also destined to be friends." Mussolini embraced his arms and lifted his chin high.

"Stay with your friendship, Your Excellency Mussolini, I'm not rare at all, really." Pitrot's tone was still unbearable and he seemed determined to be angry with the former prime minister.

"What are you planning, what are the Germans' plans?" Mussolini's forehead is straight, but he can only grind his teeth for patience. He also wants to understand at the moment, now he doesn't want to see him die, maybe It's really only the German side.

"I know what you are thinking, but it is a pity that you guessed wrong. In fact, there is no plan at all. My task is to report to the superior on time the movement of the coup. The secret road was originally for emergency evacuation. prepare."

"You mean, all this is a temporary decision you made?"

"Otherwise, I am not a prophet."

"You are not afraid of things going wrong and losing your life."

"Of course I thought about this possibility, but compared with the huge gains that followed, a little bit of danger was worth taking. And the jailers were already bought by me with money, and I have full confidence in fleeing the palace. "Pitro smiled and picked up the teacup."

"You mean, there is no one to answer you at all? God, you are the most daring guy I have ever seen. You are betting on your life." Mussolini has seen many of these in his life. Gambler, but the only one who plays so high-end is the one in front.

"I did succeed, didn't it? Now all we have to do is to wait here with peace of mind." Pitleau stood up and walked to the window sill.

"What are you waiting for?" Mussolini asked.

"It seems that you really don't know anything, Mr. Mussolini." Pitló opened the curtains and peered carefully at the street.

"The Germans will attack today, and the goal is this Roman city."

"This is impossible! They are still on the [Mussolini] line of defense this morning."

"I don't know. I'm not a strategist." Pitló closed the curtains and walked back to his sofa.

"How far are we from Rome now?" Lieutenant Sparro armor untied the neck tie. He put the sand-yellow coat next to the control tower and pulled up the sleeve of the shirt high.

"Ask Sergeant Rem, he has read the map for a long time." The driver answered in the in-car communication.

"Look at the way, be careful ahead. There are about twenty kilometers, sir." The named radio operator reported.

The two tank platoons of one battalion and two companies of the 21st Armored Regiment, together with a total of twelve 38t tanks in the company, as German assault forwards, are advancing along the road beside the railway line towards Rome at high speed.

This Czech-made tank has a speed of up to 42 kilometers per hour. It is the fastest tank currently equipped by the Germans. Its firepower and armor can handle conventional-strength battles. The light tanks equipped by the Italian Army are not opponents of this tank. . Because the amount of equipment currently in the German army is very large, the headquarters has not yet replaced the idea of ​​this type of tank.

"Sir, the commander wants to know if the people of the 77th regiment are still following us." Sergeant Rem turned back and reported.

"Let him wait for a while. I should pick up three rows of Lansdorf. Will you see if those infantry are still behind us?" Lieutenant Sparlu asked with his headphones.

"Okay, yes, it is clear that I also hope so. Yes, it is indeed going smoothly today. In this way, keep the channel clear and finished." The company commander leaned over and looked at the radio operator.

"Tell the leader that the 77th regiment is with us."

"Understood, sir." The radioman nodded and agreed.

"Everyone is listening. In front of us is the Italian capital of Rome. One battalion and two companies will be the first German troops to enter the city. Be proud of yourself. The soldiers of the twenty-one armored regiment, we will conquer Rome. ..."

Lieutenant Sparru said loudly, holding a microphone, and he heard a cheer from the cars behind him, and the commander's face showed a satisfied smile. (To be continued.)