Chapter 21
30th of April 1942
The government announced a radical overhaul of the fleet.
Two weeks ago, the Empire leaving the London Treaties had caused an international uproar.
Haruji, however, couldn’t explain himself why it should be such an issue. Despite the carrier protection, especially the transport fleets had taken some heavy damage caused by German submarines and the Regia Marina.
The Empire now lured for new transporters and a completely improved fleet in order to protect the transporters more efficiently. The treaties limited Japan, which considered itself to be a member of the Allies that was at least equal to the UK.
So, why shouldn’t it have the same privileges?
A new carrier was currently produced in the Imperial wharfs together with several light cruisers and new transporters. The old destroyers were to be modernized, too, as they almost completely failed in their task of protecting the transporters.
At least the war kept them working, the news that were currently coming from the front were all but raising joy.
Instead, there was a stalemate in Italy, there were no successes to report, only losses.
Yuki went every week to the town hall to view the lists of those who were killed or missed in action and to search of Souta. So far, she hadn’t found his name on the list. And both of them hoped it would remain this way.
In the first days and weeks of the invasion, there had been several news about victories and battles now, the last message about a victory to arrive at home, had been several days ago.
Now all the newspapers could show as a map of the current frontlines and, in contradiction to the Eastern front, the Italian front had barely moved. The Red Army instead was literally ploughing its way through the Wehrmacht.
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20th of May 1942
Takumi breathed heavily.
He tried to remember how many shots he had already fired of his current magazine. It was his last one until new supplies would arrive, but he couldn’t afford to run into the Bulgarians without a single bullet in his magazine.
Under the pressure of battle, his thoughts would often drift home, to Misaki and his daughter. He had missed only a few weeks of her life so far, but he knew he would regret having to miss those precious weeks.
The Axis proved to be worse than any parasite he could imagine. As soon as they got rid of one of them, another would show up to bite into the body of the Japanese army.
Not even three weeks ago, they had beaten back an attack on Tivoli.
And now, since about one week, they were under attack again. There wasn’t a single day on which they weren’t bombed by either Italian bombers or the Luftwaffe and, from what he could tell, the lost interceptors couldn’t be replaced as fast as they were shot down.
His morale was shrinking daily, and there were already reports about deserters in other units.
The eastern front was moving towards the heart of Germany and the British attempted yet another landing on the French coast but this didn’t ease the pressure on them.
High Command noticed the decreasing morale and counteracted by improving the training of their officers so that they were able to increase the morale of their soldiers.
Also, the supply-situation improved because the navy new grew more effective in hunting down enemy submarines, also due to new combat tactics for the night.
Takumi forced his thoughts back on the issue ahead.
He leaned against a farmhouse somewhere at the southern bank of the river Tiber, the sun was standing high in the sky, burning down on their faces. The air was dry and, in the courtyard of the farmhouse, was a squad of 6 Bulgarian soldiers. They were talking to a German squad of mountaineers.
They outnumbered them two to one.
If he hadn’t counted wrong, he had about ten rounds left and a hand grenade, and then there were still his men. The courtyard offered no cover, so the ambush would be perfect. The hostile forces might eventually try to get themselves into a nearby barn, but that was all.
He issued his orders with hand-signs and, after a few seconds, all was over.
Takumi had thrown his grenade towards the barn and then turned round the corner, throwing himself on the ground. The enemies were surprised, but eventually tried to find cover within the barn. His grenade went up, killing three of the Germans. Just as he had emptied his magazine, some of his men emerged on the other side of the farmhouse, taking the Italians under fire.
It was a short, and unglorious massacre, won by the carelessness of the enemy.
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2nd of June 1942
Souta’s look went over the side of his plane. For every Axis plane had shot so far, he had painted a small cross onto the side of his plane. The cross resembled the “Eiserne Kreuz”, which was a award given to great soldiers.
Right now, he had six, because he hadn’t counted the torpedo-bombers he shot on the ground in Palermo.
When he was back, he was hopefully alive. And maybe he could even add some more to the collection.
High Command had ordered an attack on Rome, the Italian capital, to boost the morale of the soldiers as well as to gain the airfield in order to stop the continuous bombing runs on the Japanese soldiers.
For this assault, all the remaining planes of the IJN Kaga as well as several land-based bombers were scheduled to support the Japanese advance.
The Axis had drawn some of the city’s garrison units out, which made this the ideal opportunity for a swift attack.
On the 6th day of the assault, the city had almost been taken and there had only been bombers to provide air-cover, which is why the Japanese air-force suffered only minor casualties.
This changed on this day.
From the north, several German divisions were approaching the city from Terni in the north.
In order to give the ground forces enough time to take the rest of the city, the planes immediately started the attack.
But the Germans brought AA-guns with them as well as a squadron of fighters.
“I repeat: Fourth squadron has been completely destroyed, there is not a single one of them left in the air! Requesting permission for immediate retreat!” the captain’s voice sounded from the speaker.
Souta didn’t really hear it. He was flying low over Rome, a German plane right behind him. He had shot two Germans before, but couldn’t kill or even lose this one.
He didn’t use the speed of his zero for full potential, as he was flying between the numerous church-towers of Rome, hoping to lose the German or letting him crash into one. He had to make a bit slower than usual because he didn’t want to crash into one of the towers himself.
At first, he couldn’t lose him, but, after a while, the German seemed to be fed up with the game and turned towards another, less lucky target.
In the mean time, the retreat-order came, and Souta did as he was told. His interest inplaying cats and mice with another German pilot was minimal.
The battle ended two days after with an Axis victory.