Chapter 218: The Crisis of Athens
Having lost air superiority, and with five Romanian divisions launching a fierce assault along the border, the Italian Army became unwilling to engage in a brutal siege.
The three infantry divisions remaining in Budapest withdrew toward Croatia, preparing to cooperate with the Yugoslav defenders. Their plan was to first retake Slovenia, then organize a second line of resistance.
Regent Miklós Horthy, who had controlled Hungary for more than a decade through military power, made the most favorable decision available when faced with a war machine far more powerful than himself.
He used the royalists to mediate the war.
On the third day, Jörg had just woken up when a telegram from the Netherlands shone brightly beneath the morning light.
After quickly scanning the verbose ceasefire terms, Jörg's gaze slowly focused on his father-in-law's signature at the end of the telegram.
Europe truly was one large family.
Even in this era, the prestige of the Habsburg monarchy could still exert its final influence. The Hungarian royalists were even able to deliver the armistice agreement to Wilhelm II, who then forwarded it to Jörg's office.
However, Jörg was not interested in those intricate old-world marriage ties.
He picked up the telephone.
"Connect me to the General Staff Headquarters."
After a brief pause, he continued, "Tell Bock that the Hungarians have compromised. For now, there is no need to worry about the Yugoslav side. The Hungarian Army will help us defend their own land."
His voice turned colder.
"Move toward Bulgaria. And be quick."
After giving the order, Jörg took a sip of hot tea.
Germany's progress was swift.
But the progress of the Franco-Italian Allied Army was also remarkably rapid.
Last night, the King of Greece had sent him an urgent plea for help. According to the telegram, the Greek defenders on the front line could only maintain the defense of Athens for three more days.
And when Jörg asked why the Bulgarian Army had not participated in the defense, George II gave him an answer that did not surprise him at all.
The fighting will of the volunteer army dispatched by Bulgaria was terribly low.
Two days later.
Facing the combined offensive of Italy and France, Greece was like a farmer charging at a Cyclops with a pitchfork.
Courageous, but unable to avoid continuous retreat.
After three days of bitter resistance, the Greek defenders in the Pindus Mountains were routed under aerial reconnaissance and dense artillery support. They retreated toward Mount Valsorexia.
Corfu was also invaded.
The Greek Navy, which had achieved some success in night operations against the Italian Navy, failed to accomplish much against the combined Franco-Italian fleet.
They could only retreat into the inner sea.
The next day, Patras, on the other side of Athens, suffered a landing operation.
At the same time, the remaining Greek resistance on Mount Valsorexia was declared broken. They could only flee toward Erythres, the last defensive line before Athens.
With the enemy attacking from two directions, defeat seemed inevitable.
But only King George II of Greece knew that everything had only just begun.
The Bulgarian Army was unreliable.
But the time bought with countless lives had allowed three infantry divisions supported by Romania to cross Istanbul, board cargo ships, and regroup in Athens.
They brought with them a large quantity of German-made weapons.
At the same time, German troops had already arrived in Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria.
All civilian airports were grounded. Civilian airliners were dragged out of their hangars.
Dozens of bombers and fighters became the new residents of Sofia's airfields.
German ground crews, who had arrived aboard transport aircraft, took over the airport and quickly armed it into another military airfield.
Erythres.
Two young men holding cannon-like weapons stared at the devices in confusion.
"Officer? How do I use this thing?"
The Greek officer, who had only just learned from Romanians taught by the Germans, pointed toward a tree in front of them and explained with the simplest logic.
"Aim. Press your shoulder tightly against the tube. Can you see that aiming hole?"
The soldier nodded.
"Now pull the trigger."
Bang!
A large crater exploded into the ground in front of the tree.
Kard rubbed his head in embarrassment.
"Sorry, Officer. I missed."
The Greek officer was about to teach him by hand when the damned alarm suddenly sounded across the city.
Whoosh!
A piercing air raid siren blared over Erythres.
It also marked the beginning of the final resistance.
They had no retreat.
Beyond the mountain behind them lay a vast plain.
And at the edge of that plain stood Athens, their capital.
"Anti-aircraft gunners, shoot them down!"
The Greek officer roared, "Everyone else, take cover in the trenches! Move!"
Whoosh!
Several bombs exploded near the edge of the trench.
Sand and soil sprayed down like a storm, as if trying to bury them alive.
Kard, his mouth full of sand, stared at the iron birds in the sky. He raised his middle finger and cursed under his breath.
"You one-handed French bastards, go eat dog shit!"
No sooner had he spoken than one aircraft seemed to hear him.
It suddenly plunged straight down.
To defeat Greece, Italy had rolled out its newly developed Z.1007 bomber. But when untested aircraft made a sudden grand debut on the battlefield, the outcome was often predictable.
After a round of bombing, a dense artillery barrage followed immediately.
Kard poked his head out.
The shells detonated the mines they had buried in the forest. Amid the exploding flames, several French SOMUA S-35 medium tanks pushed down trees and advanced forward.
Before he could take another look, the Greek officer yanked him back into the trench and shouted, "Are you trying to die?"
But just as the Greek officer leaned out to pull him back, that brief instant decided his fate.
Clang!
A bullet pierced his steel helmet, producing a dull sound of death.
Seeing his comrade and officer die in front of him because of his own actions, Kard felt blood surge into his head. Instinctively, he tried to leap up and fight the invaders to the death.
The next moment, a rapidly advancing SOMUA S-35 medium tank raised its cannon.
Boom!
A firing position temporarily built with sandbags and timber was destroyed. The alternating machine gun fire from that position gradually fell silent.
The soldiers in the trench shouted in panic.
"Behind them! Behind the tanks! The French are swarming in!"
"Watch the tank machine guns!"
"Who has a rocket launcher? Take out the tanks first! They're pushing too fast!"
Tat tat tat!
Continuous bullets poured into the trench.
A ricochet shot, right before Kard's eyes, pierced a comrade's neck. Hot blood splattered across his face.
"I'll do it!"
He grabbed a rocket from a box covered in German text, loaded it, and took two deep breaths.
Then Kard raised his head from the trench.
Whoosh!
The rocket fired, dragging a gray-white trail through the air. The alloy warhead struck the fragile armor of the SOMUA S-35 medium tank and penetrated it, igniting the ammunition inside.
Boom!
The tank turned into a burning pile of scrap metal.
Kard threw the rocket launcher aside and shouted in excitement.
"I hit it! I fucking hit it!"
But in the very next second of celebration, behind another tank, a French soldier holding a MAS-36 rifle locked onto his forehead.
A gunshot mixed into the artillery fire.
It took the life of this brave warrior.
The Greek soldiers in the same squad roared.
"Kard! Kard!"
"Fuck you, French bastards!"
As they shouted, one Greek soldier after another raised their rocket launchers.
Some were targeted by the enemy and torn apart by volleys of bullets the instant they lifted their heads.
Some pulled the trigger only to blast a pile of dirt in front of themselves.
But more of them struck the tanks that had pushed too close and were completely unprepared, turning the unequal battlefield back into an infantry engagement.
At the same time, on the Bulgarian border, Bock also began his offensive.
.....
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