WWII military commentator? Even a dog could be one.

71 The Battle of the Alps, the Adorably Silly Italians

Ford II turned and went into his room, carrying a bottle of red wine.

"Friend, want a drink? It's nice to meet you. My God, Sean Wayne is right in front of me. Are you a wizard? You're only 21."

"There's still one month left until the 22nd."

Damn, too young.

Henry Ford shook the bottle. "Your room, or mine?"

Please don't extend such an invitation to a single man like me.

"Hahaha, I like you, hahaha."

Sean pointed a finger at Henry, "Wait for me."

"Come on!"

They both laughed at the same time.

As Sean entered Ford's room, he looked around curiously. It was just like his own room, very ordinary. He hadn't expected that such a large family as Ford would be so frugal.

"Hi." Ford extended his hand to Sean in a gesture of invitation, then poured Sean a glass of wine.

Will Italy be defeated by France?

really.

Sean was both amused and exasperated. He had expected the two, as businessmen, to have a long talk about the future and investments, and discuss the prospects of the automotive industry. But instead, Sean could only manage a wry smile.

"Yes, they won't have any victories to boast about."

"My goodness, Italy's military strength is not weak, and it even has a complete military industry." As a conglomerate, Ford was naturally familiar with Italian military enterprises.

"The other side has M1911 field guns and a lot of TL37 tractor-mounted artillery. They have their own aircraft manufacturers, and France currently lacks a large number of aircraft."

Didn't you say that air and ground are integrated?

Could it be that Italy couldn't win? You know, the Italian army is more adept at mountain warfare.

Ford invited Sean to the balcony, where the two moved chairs over and chatted while enjoying the night view.

Sean did not deny what the other party said.

The Italian border guard, the Wolves of Moncenizio, is actually the best mountain special forces unit in the world. They are proficient in ski reconnaissance, infiltration, and small-scale operations. They were also the only bright spot for Italy in the Alpine campaign, successfully penetrating France's strong defenses and occupying several villages.

"Unfortunately, Italian aircraft lacked communication and navigation capabilities, and their aiming accuracy was poor. Without dive bombers, level bombing was unlikely to effectively damage French bunkers, or even penetrate their fortifications."

"Wow, you really are a commentator; I didn't know any of this. So, Italy will lose?"

"The ambition was great, but the results were unsatisfactory."

"Hahaha, that's a loss. It's a pity Italy hasn't made a move. I really want to know if Sean Wayne's curse can continue."

"Haha," Sean laughed, "I have no idea what they're doing."

"I know their media outlets mock you every day. Today Rome is saying again, 'Foolish Sean, your curse will end in Italy.'"

"Hahaha." Sean laughed and cried at the same time, "Are they mocking me every day?"

"Yes," Ford said, then laughed at himself.

"They'll regret it."

The two raised their glasses in greeting.

In the early morning of June 6, 1940, Sean was drinking and bragging with his new friends.

After dragging on for more than half a month, the Italian army finally completed its assembly and stood ready for battle.

Rome was furious; they were subjected to immense international ridicule.

The declaration of war was made on the 17th of last month, but by early June, Italy was still assembling troops.

Even now, they don't even have a proper battle plan.

American journalist Cook stood at the foot of the mountain not far from the Sheneye Fortress.

The French army built a massive fortified defense system around the mountains.

As he watched the Italian soldiers pushing the cannons and preparing, Cook clenched his fists, his heart pounding with increasing excitement. War!

Men's romance is finally about to be unleashed in Italy, and it's also Cook's chance to make a name for himself.

He glanced back at the Italian mountain troops, who had just been roused from their tents by their followers and weren't even patrolling the area much during the night.

These Italians are not enthusiastic about fighting at all; it's like they're just stalling for time and don't want to go to the battlefield.

Cook nearly fainted on the spot; he felt that his attempt to gain fame by targeting Sean seemed to be a mistake.

"Attack!" With a group of energized party members shouting, a barrage of artillery fire erupted around the peaks of the Seineye Fortress.

A deafening explosion shook the heavens and the earth in the distance.

Flames and thick smoke burst forth across the mountains, giving off a devilish smile.

Holding binoculars, Cook, who had never experienced war, was terrified for the first time as mud and rocks were blasted into the air by the explosion.

Flames were rising everywhere on the mountainside.

Cook's hands were trembling; he didn't know what kind of creature could survive in such an environment.

"Capture the mountain peak."

The Italians charged toward the hillside, rifles in hand.

"My God!" Cook exclaimed.

Italian artillery was still very powerful.

France is now beset by internal and external troubles, in its darkest hour, as winter has arrived. How will they withstand it?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang.

Numerous flames appeared on the mountainside and peaks, machine guns spat fire, and cannons roared.

The Italians had just charged forward when they were met with a hail of bullets.

The Italian army, as densely packed as ants, was bombarded by artillery fire.

Boom! A shell landed in the crowd.

Cook felt a churning in his stomach.

Although he couldn't see the brutal scenes, he could imagine them.

Countless Italians were blown apart at the scene, their arms and intestines even landing on their teammates' faces.

The Italian troops, who were high on alcohol, were instantly woken up by the urge to urinate.

"Mom."

"Help me, someone help me!" An Italian mountain soldier, whose left leg had been blown off and whose bone was visible at the break, crawled on the ground.

"Charge! Charge! Take down Sheneye!" No matter how the party members shouted, the first wave of charge instantly retreated.

"The French firepower is too intense; we need artillery fire, no, we need planes!"

Yes, airplanes are needed, and Cook thinks so too.

His mountain unit immediately sought help.

Kuk waited expectantly, hoping to witness the demise of the Sean myth in just a day or two.

After all, the Italian vanguard alone numbered 80,000, with a reserve force exceeding 200,000, which the French could not withstand.

After waiting for half an hour, the plane still hadn't appeared.

Cook asked the team leader beside him with a surprised look.

"Where is your plane?"

"We have already communicated with the division headquarters. They need to request from the headquarters, then the headquarters will contact the Air Force Command, and the Air Force will then issue the order to each combat unit. We'll have to wait a little longer."

"Are you serious? You can't be serious, are you? Calling for air support will take a while?"

Cook was shocked; I had been waiting for half an hour.

My God, he never imagined that applying for an airstrike would be such a complicated process.

"Yes, I'm serious, friend. How about a coffee? You can drink it while you wait."

Cook stared, mouth agape. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm serious, the plane won't be here anytime soon."

God, it seems I've chosen the wrong side; Italy's command structure is rife with chaos.