0800 hours, November 9th,
High-Security Prison, near Ljubljana
“Hostiles sighted in prison. Permission to engage? Over.” Mario sat patiently with his company’s operator, as they sheltered below the hill’s crest. A similarly sized group of Yugoslav soldiers had been sighted taking defensive positions around the prison’s perimeter.
“At your own risk. I want minimum casualties, so just force them to hold position until I get armour in. Permission granted, over.” Mario smiled grimly, then called his platoon commanders over.
“I want to get all our mortars on them, while we make a frontal assault. Victor, take your platoon around the edge and hit them from the side. That should keep them occupied. Understood?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and picked up his gear. Raising his pistol high, Mario fired a single shot. Barely seconds later, the pounding of mortars started. Roughly a hundred troops streamed over the hill’s ridge, before adopting more tactical formations and picking off the defenders.
Taken unaware, a volley of cries came from the Yugoslavs. They panicked and began to fight, what for a moment looked like themselves. However the lack of uniform forced the thought to dawn on Mario. The prisoners were trying to escape. Another thorn in the side of the doomed defenders. He picked up a rifle and moved forward, following the company.
Paolo lined up the Slav in his sights and took the shot. Though in the depth of battle any audio confirmation evaded him, the soldier collapsed. With no time to take pride in his shot, Paolo looked to his commanding officer. Sure enough, the Lieutenant bellowed the expected orders.
“First section, find cover! Halt! Covering fire! Second section, move!” Paolo jumped to his feet and sprinted forwards. His eyes darted, looking for cover. Eventually, he settled in a small ditch and poked his rifle muzzle over the top. As the other section advanced again, he fired as quickly as he could towards the enemy position.
Suddenly, without any warning, a mortar shell took down the wall in front of his platoon. Not waiting for confirmation, Paolo rushed forwards.
“Platoon, into the gap! Go, go, go!” Fumbling, Paolo managed to fit his bayonet as he ran. Among the first exploiting the gap, it was every man for himself. Paolo speared a Yugoslav crawling out of the rubble, before taking another as he moved round a corner.
In the distance, the rumbling of tanks could be heard. Before another life could be taken, the Yugoslavian officer emerged with a large white flag.
Following new orders from his officer, Paolo walked into the prison complex. A single bullet was enough to burst each lock and the majority of prisoners burst outside singing praise of the Italians. They would be sent back to raise trouble in the nationalist cities. Meanwhile, those who resisted were shot.
Late night, 9th September,
Comando Adriatic Sede Centrale, Trieste
Vincenzo nodded slowly as he took in the information. This was it. They had been waiting for this news all day.
“The 131st are within fifty miles of Belgrade!” A round of cheers went up from the room, as others looked to the operator. Pariani, however, barely let his eyes move from the map of the Balkans. His Generals whispered in his ear and he nodded gently, moving a small counter forwards.
“Unfortunately, the Yugoslav Royal Guard seems to have decided to show up, making defences twenty miles outside the city. Our recon planes say that is the last thing stopping them though.” Pariani’s gaze finally moved to look at Vincenzo, his hands moving forward a different coloured counter.
“How far back is their support? What’s the estimate for that?”
“The 19th and 53rd had to clear up behind, but they catch up within a couple of days Gariboldi reckons. The battle should be won easily enough; it’s just a matter of time.” Pariani nodded gently, before turning to his Generals to speak.
“Pursue a full offensive. If the Yugoslavs manage to reform, this war could take another month and ten thousand good men with it. I want to double all ground gained in the north and completely cut off their coast. Understood? Get that message out to your soldiers and the war is ours.”
Since October, the northern front had been going smoothly for the Italians. While Bovec had held out for four days, the rest of the front crumbled. Novo Mesto was the first to go and since that defeat, the Yugoslavian army had been on the retreat. In the south, the Italian troops had advanced with no opposition, taking Cetinje and Skopje. The 3a Armata, landing in Split on the4th, then advanced. By the 10th, the coastline had been seized and the Italians were faced with the option to starve out Yugoslavia. However, the government decided against such a costly action. As troops neared Belgrade, a major offensive began at 0500 hours as Yugoslav troops fell back from a counter on Cetinje. In the north, the enemy was destroyed with ease, a mass retreat to Ljubljana forcing the fight for the city to be the next major battle. As Ljubljana fell, the 19th and 53rd managed to catch up with their armour. A joint assault smashed the Yugoslav Royal Guard and the road to Belgrade was open.
Early Morning, November 16th
Belgrade
The cabinet stood in a stunned silence as the doors were kicked open. Two soldiers, clad in olive green fatigues and metal helmets, entered the room.
“Where is his majesty, King Peter?” The king made to run, but was seized. Together, the soldiers dragged him outside. They were soon replaced by roughly twenty more, who knelt in front of the politicians and levelled their rifles.
“Fire!” A single volley ripped into the politicians. Though some survived initially, they were left to bleed out their wounds.
In the streets outside, tanks rolled through. They bore not Italian flags, but Yugoslav banners with the fasces boldly splattered across the tricolour. The procession was lead by a group of politicians, most noticeably Milan Stojadinovic and Ante Pavelic. With them marched the Italian infantry of the 53a and 19a
Divisione Fanteria, while the crowd was held back by a mixture of police and assorted fascist militias, mainly the Green-shirts and Ustaše.
Meanwhile, King Peter was held at gunpoint. His hands shook as he took the pen and, under the watching Italian eyes, signed the agreement. Immediately he was thrown onto a chair and the soldiers relaxed, to look more as guards then kidnappers. A group of Yugoslav cameramen rushed in and set up. Finally, he was given the clear.
“I, King Peter II of Yugoslavia, officially announce my abdication. I ask my former subjects to co-operate with Italian troops and not to resist them in their actions. The once proud kingdom of Yugoslavia will be restored to its full strength, under my successor King Victor Emmanuel.” The message was cut off and the soldiers seized him again. It was enough. That would be broadcast all over Yugoslavia and in many Italian homes.
The war was lost and won. Though King Peter had called for surrender, an official announcement was only made on the 18th. Even that was at its best temporary, allowing Italian soldiers to occupy Yugoslavian territories until a permanent treaty was worked out. The armed forces exploited their permissions as much as possible, crushing nationalist resistance and touring the country as a show of strength. They began to co-operate with fascist partisans, slowly closing down terrorist operations.
Politically, the destruction of Yugoslavia had created a void though. Despite King Victor being crowned on the 18th, there was no government but the Italian army. Mussolini consistently lobbied Hitler to oversee negotiations and, on the 21st of November, the Conference of Ljubljana began. The Italians were insistent on the city being returned to them, while Yugoslav fascists protested. With the exception of the Ustaše, most Yugoslavians favoured an independent state subservient to Italy.
Afternoon, November 24th,
Magistrat, Ljubljana
“And what do you want? A series of blood thirsty, feuding states, which you Croats can exploit? You disgust me! Yugoslavia will only stand as one state or it will fall divided!” Milan slammed his hand onto the table, silencing the protests of Ustaše members. He looked to Ante Pavelic, who rose to the challenge. He shot a look of disgust at Milan, before turning to Alberto Pariani.
“If you allow our friend here to form a united Yugoslavia, it will be too large for Italy to control. Could you sustain another war as costly as the last, while you fight elsewhere? The moment your forces turn their back, Milan here would happily strike.” Pavelic had used his words wisely. However, it was Benito Mussolini who paused, before answering.
“If that was so, then I could, with a flick of my hand, limit your armed forces. This is, as of this present moment, an Italian city. I intend to keep it that way and take Split with it. You know what that would do? Allow me to consider the proposal of a united Yugoslavia. Mr Stojadinovic, would you like to re-consider your words?”
“I would request, in exchange for a border redrawn by the Duce yet approved by me, the permission to form a government to administer the territory of Yugoslavia.” Milan looked towards Benito who nodded.
“We will draw up the details tomorrow, but we have established the facts today. You shall form the government, headed by your party, and hand over the north. Any objections? None?” Benito ignored Pavelic, instead to looking to the German foreign minister, Joachim von Ribbentrop.
“Herr Ribbentrop?”
“None. We shall reconvene tomorrow, at ten in the morning, as usual. Goodbye.” Ribbentrop left, followed by a largely silent Fuhrer. Neither was particularly interested in the agreements, providing they didn’t threaten Germany. Their presence was more ceremonial.
With the Treaty of Ljubljana over, the war with Yugoslavia was finished for good. Peace had come, at least for the moment. However, there were more pressing matters. Peter II of Yugoslavia had a certain godfather: King George VI of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The British public had been outraged by the Italian invasion, but Britain did not believe itself strong enough. Czechoslovakia had announced to France that it would be interested in forming an alliance, shortly after Yugoslavia’s capitulation. The resulting Prague conference resulted in the Czechs joining the allies, alongside New Zealand and, more importantly, the United States of America. That increased tensions further so, that by the end of November, all nations were preparing for war.