< World War II - Belli dura despicio (1) >
July 4, 1940
Governnt Complex, Berlin, Northern Germany
"What?"
I had to ask again, doubting my own ears, and my father answered with his usual deadpan expression.
"We've lured so of Britain's private companies to Germany."
Wait, so you're saying you siphoned off British companies that were panicking over the unprecedented invasion of their holand? Isn't this just looting a house on fire?
"Thanks to that bastard Hitler, we're overly dependent on the munitions industry, so it's a good opportunity to get so investnt from private companies."
"Uh, is that even okay? In this war, Britain is technically our ally."
My father answered, not even trying to hide the pathetic look he was giving .
"That's why it's possible. They were already plotting to relocate just because their ho country beca a battlefield.
They're the types who would have fled to the safety of Arica if left alone. We just gave them a few perks and secured them for ourselves.
They aren't major arms manufacturers anyway, and Britain is the one who needs our participation in the war, so they won't make an issue of it."
Then again, Britain did take a lot from us in exchange for acknowledging Emperor Wilhelm's coronation and our reclamation of Danzig and Posen.
…He's not wrong, but still.
Truly, truly, truly a textbook example of a ruthless capitalist.
Looting a house on fire. I don't think I could ever co up with such a plan.
"…That's amazing, Chancellor."
My father scoffed and then took it a step further.
"Do you think they'll collapse imdiately if we cut their military supplies in half?"
"What?"
What is he talking about now? Telling
to cut military supplies in half while they're in the middle of fighting the Soviet Union? As I stared in disbelief, my father looked at
with that sa pathetic expression and answered.
"You still don't get it.
You have a long way to go. We're already giving them more weapons than the amount those Poles are paying us each month.
How about we cut it in half, and when the Poles feel the heat, we tell them to hand over their territory in Upper Silesia as paynt for the weapons."
My jaw dropped.
Th-This is…
A monster. A monster born of capitalism is right here.
My father never had a good opinion of Poland, but…
"Uh, um. Chancellor. I will consider the proposal to take Upper Silesia as paynt for the weapons, but if we halve the equipnt support, the risk of Poland collapsing as soon as the offensive begins will be too great. Let's review a more moderate proposal for Poland with the Foreign Ministry."
"Hmph, you weakling."
"Chancellor. I seriously believe that for Germany's future, it's better to improve national sentint with Poland, even if just a little. The thod you suggested might be effective for gaining territory now, but it's far too extre in the long run."
After hearing my words, my father stared at
for a mont before speaking.
"Ha, so you've at least reached the level where you can talk back to
properly?"
"Because I'm the Vice-Chancellor before I'm your son, Chancellor."
My father was silent for a mont at my reply, then said nonchalantly.
"The reason I'm thinking this way is because of all the ammunition the military squandered in Italy. I sent you to restrain and monitor them, but I hear you actively encouraged it."
"Cough, I-I apologize…"
We succeeded in breaking through the defense line Italy had painstakingly constructed almost without bloodshed, but the 24-hour rain of shells and bombs over six long days ca with enormous military expenditure.
My father adjusted his glasses and spoke again.
"Of course, your opinion that expenditure is better than sacrificing citizens who will beco economic agents has rit, so I didn't oppose it in the eting. But we are fighting a war, and it takes ti for the soldiers who survived, instead of being used up like that ammunition, to return to society and produce equivalent economic value. Among them, not a few will fail to adapt to society, like after the last Great War, and beco impossible to convert into economic value."
My father's words were rciless, yet befitting an economist, and utterly realistic.
"…I know. But isn't the nation supposed to exist to protect its people? I don't want to pay with lives for sothing that can be solved with a financial deficit."
I added, looking at my father's displeased face.
"Of course, if I were to do that to the point of bankrupting the nation's finances, it would be an abandonnt of responsibility under the excuse of good intentions. I will be more prudent in the future."
Only then did my father show his characteristic rotten smile.
"Good, you may go."
"Then I will take my leave, Chancellor."
"…Good work."
My father's words of 'good work' felt more heavy than pleasing.
-
July 4, 1940
British Egypt, Alexandria British Egypt, responsible for Britain's lifeline, the Suez Canal.
The admirals of the Royal Navy's diterranean Fleet, led by Commander Admiral Andrew Cunningham, and the generals of the British Africa Corps, led by Archibald Wavell, were sitting with their heads together.
"The front is too wide for the Africa Corps to possibly cover. French Lebanon, Syria, Italian Libya, and even Ethiopia. Since the ho country is in no position to support us, the Army must focus entirely on defense."
Having said that, General Wavell bit his lip for a mont before speaking.
"But now I'm worried about supplies. Even if the ho country sends supplies through the French Navy, the Italian diterranean Fleet won't just stand by and watch if they have to pass through Malta…"
General Wavell glanced at Admiral Andrew Cunningham's expression and looked apologetic.
"Of course, we are well aware that our situation is not favorable and there is nothing the Army can do to help. The fact that the British Army is nothing more than a projectile fired by the Navy is, for now, a bitter pill to swallow."
"Not at all. We are well aware of the Army's circumstances. The Royal Navy exists for tis like these, so we must find a way to break through this situation."
Of course, even as he said that, Admiral Andrew Cunningham, Commander of the diterranean Fleet, was not at ease.
Of the six battleships in the Italian Navy, two are new models commissioned this June, and the other four have recently completed major refits and are significantly enhanced.
Mussolini's boast, 'How could our navy be inferior to the French Navy?' wasn't entirely a bluff; the Italian Navy was the only group in Italy that properly resembled a military force.
On the other hand, the main ships available to the diterranean Fleet were the three Queen Elizabeth-class battleships—Warspite, Barham, and Malaya—and the light carrier Glorious.
All three battleships had received refits, but Warspite was a prototype and had a reputation as a troublemaker prone to frequent breakdowns even before its refit, while Malaya's refit was halted midway due to a lack of budget.
The ratio of main combatants was nearly 2-to-1 against us, but it was even worse when counting auxiliary ships.
The Italian Navy, the Regia Marina, had 120 destroyers, 14 light cruisers, 7 heavy cruisers, and nurous submarines as auxiliary ships.
In contrast, the Royal Navy's diterranean Fleet had only 35 destroyers, 4 light cruisers, and 3 heavy cruisers.
Even if they brought in the Gibraltar Fleet, it would amount to less than half of Italy's strength, and they also had to watch Spain.
anwhile, in the Far East, the Empire of Japan had already captured Hong Kong and was attacking British Malaya and the Far East Fleet.
With the unprecedented situation of the British Isles themselves turning into a battlefield, the British Empire was truly besieged on all sides.
But the pride of the Royal Navy, which had ruled the seas for an era, did not waver even in a mont like this.
"It couldn't possibly be any worse than this, but…"
Even in this desperate situation, Admiral Cunningham's eyes were fiercely alive.
"The Royal Navy must be Britain's bulwark under any circumstances. First, let's buy so ti to face this hardship."
-
July 5, 1940
Taranto, Southern Italy, Italy's core naval port At the summons of Duce Mussolini, who offered the Air Force's oil, Admiral I??igo Campioni's Regia Marina began planning an operation to strike Malta and Alexandria.
There was an existing surprise attack plan, but it was only viable for a joint strike with France, and a new plan was needed as the air force designated for the original operation had been annihilated.
However, before a plan could even be established, the defense line in South Tyrol collapsed in less than a week, and Italy found itself in a dire situation.
Faced with Mussolini's demand to achieve results and secure reinforcents from France, Admiral Campioni's worries mounted.
"Unbelievable. After taking all our oil, now he cos clinging only to us."
Admiral Campioni found it absurd, but it was clear this was not the ti to strike over past frictions.
If the Regia Marina did nothing, Italy would gain the dishonor of being a nation that declared war first only to collapse without a proper fight.
That was why Admiral Campioni could not sleep late into the night.
"Still, I have to do sothing—huh?"
The admiral, lost in thought while staring at a map, shot up from his seat at the sudden roar of an explosion, and imdiately after, the air raid sirens began to wail.
-
Having seen the great success of the French surprise attack, the Italian military had grown vigilant, and Italy's largest naval port, the Port of Taranto, had established formidable defenses against air raids in preparation for British carriers.
An enormous number of anti-aircraft guns and machine guns, over 100 of each, were prepared, and additionally, barrage balloons and nets to stop torpedoes were being installed.
The problem was that the air raid occurred before that work was finished, and on a dark, heavily clouded day of all things.
Flares dropped by British aircraft lit up the dark night sky, signaling the start, and soon, Italy's already precious oil storage tanks were hit by dive bombers.
The dark sky brightened for a mont as the oil storage tanks exploded and burned, and only then did the Italian forces, who had been completely unaware of the offensive, witness the sight of British-made Fairey Swordfish torpedo bombers flying over the harbor.
"Fire, fire at them!"
The anti-aircraft gunners, belatedly woken up by the ergency, rushed out frantically and began to spray a barrage of flak.
"Admiral!"
"Tell all ships to engage in anti-aircraft combat! Set sail! Imdiately! If we stay put, we're nothing but targets—"
Before Admiral Campioni, who had rushed onto the bridge of the flagship Littorio, could finish his sentence, a report that was almost a scream ca in.
"Port lookout reporting! Enemy aircraft dropped a torpedo, approaching our vessel!"
"Starboard, ah-"
The captain, who had been about to unconsciously order an evasive maneuver, shut his mouth with a pale face. A massive battleship moored in a harbor had no ability to accelerate suddenly.
"All hands, brace for impact!"
As Admiral Campioni abruptly grabbed onto whatever was nearby and shouted, everyone else did the sa.
A brief mont passed as everyone held onto whatever they could to steady themselves, waiting tensely, and then, with a roar, the massive hull of the Littorio shuddered violently.
"Ughhh!"
Even though they had anticipated the hit, the impact was by no ans small, and the crew stumbled. Once the chaos of assessing the situation passed, damage reports flew in.
"Compartnts 2 and 3 are flooding! Sealing them off!"
"Take action and tell all ships to set sail imdiately and create distance! We're like rats in a trap here!"
"Yes, sir!"
anwhile, the anti-aircraft guns of the Port of Taranto and on each ship spewed fire madly, blanketing the sky.
The Swordfish, biplanes made of wood, were sluggish, but surprisingly, even when hit multiple tis in the fuselage instead of the wings, they were just punctured and not easily shot down.
The Swordfish flew frantically through the barrage of anti-aircraft fire that seed to cover the sky, dropping their bombs and torpedoes.
"I-It looks like the second attack wave is here too! It's hard to shoot them down in the dark!"
Shooting down an aircraft even with dayti anti-aircraft fire relied half on luck and half on skill; shooting down barely visible aircraft at night was next to impossible.
"Damn it, turn on the searchlights!"
"B-But Admiral! That will reveal our position!"
Finally, unable to watch any longer, Admiral Campioni shouted. The captain tried to stop him, but Admiral Campioni did not back down.
"We're all clustered together in the harbor anyway, getting hit by every torpedo they launch! What position are you talking about! Turn them on!"
"Yes, sir!"
On Admiral Campioni's order, relayed by radio, each battleship of the Regia Marina switched on its searchlights, and one of the Swordfish, caught squarely in a sudden beam of light, absurdly lost its balance and crashed into the sea.
As the beams of light chased the Swordfish frantically and the anti-aircraft fire began to rain down, even the sluggish Swordfish began to be shot down one by one.
Nevertheless, the Swordfish succeeded in dropping their bombs or torpedoes, hitting several destroyers and cruisers, and amidst it all, a pillar of water erupted from beneath the heavy cruiser Zara.
"You sons of bitches!"
Admiral Campioni could only watch the scene powerlessly from aboard the Littorio, which was already flooding and beginning to sink.
The Swordfish were almost all shot down or had returned, but the Italian Navy was preoccupied with assessing the damage to each ship hit in the surprise attack.
The Taranto raid, which involved a total of 20 Swordfish, ended with less damage than in the original history, with 7 Swordfish shot down—more than historically—thanks to Admiral Campioni being present and the lessons learned from France's surprise attack on Britain.
Nevertheless, the destruction of the oil tanks was a bitter blow to the already fuel-starved Italian Navy, and the Littorio, the newest of the six most important battleships, was moderately damaged and would have to spend several months in dock.
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