Chapter 190: Italy's Exit
Andorra, located near the border, was lost.
The Italian Army was forced back toward the coast, squeezed tighter and tighter until only Barcelona remained as its last barely surviving foothold.
Military failure caused Benito's support among the Italian public to plummet.
After all, war was a gamble. The weapons, aircraft, ammunition, medicine, transport, and men invested into Spain would become valuable only if the supported faction won. If it lost, everything became debt, pensions, funerals, and political blame.
And without a doubt, Benito had lost almost everything.
The total value of weapons and aircraft aid had already reached hundreds of millions of dollars. The cost of pensions and medicine was even more astronomical. Every casualty list sent back to Italy became another knife pressed against his rule.
Benito understood this better than anyone.
If he could not produce some kind of result, he would soon face a severe crisis, one that might even end with him being overthrown.
Thus, the moment the German Army began besieging Barcelona, Benito immediately contacted the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He hoped to obtain mediation through the League of Nations and repeatedly expressed that Italy wanted only Catalonia.
But Germany's formidable performance on the Spanish battlefield had also shocked France.
The Maginot Line protected the front facing Germany, but that did not mean the French border with Spain possessed sufficient defenses. After careful consideration, French representatives concluded that if Germany used Spain as a springboard for a land invasion, then even if Berlin deployed only its existing forces there, the entire south of France might fall.
The losses would be immeasurable.
France therefore rejected Benito's request outright and turned to Britain.
Britain was also watching the situation closely.
London likewise refused Benito's proposal and demanded that Italy withdraw its troops to the Balearic Islands before any further plan could be discussed.
With no other option, Benito could only carry out a large scale evacuation from Barcelona.
By the end of June, Italy had essentially withdrawn from the Spanish battlefield.
From that moment onward, Spain completely became a gladiatorial arena between the Spanish Forward Army and the Spanish Communist Party.
Or more precisely, a boxing match between Germany and Soviet Russia.
Of course, driving Italy into the Mediterranean had come at a price.
The Spanish Forward Army lost all urban areas it had occupied in Madrid, and Segovia was recaptured by the armored division led by Zhukov.
Several months of bitter contention had returned to its previous state.
Jörg, having obtained the weapon testing data he wanted and confirmed that the Air Force had made sufficient progress, understood that the Spanish War could not be allowed to drag on any longer.
He needed to withdraw and secure maximum profit before Britain and France realized that Spain could become a quagmire capable of endlessly draining both Germany and Soviet Russia.
July 16, 1933.
Berlin, Internal and External Intelligence Department of Germany.
Dressed in his everyday uniform, Jörg walked into Heydrich's office.
"Heydrich, what is the situation in Ukraine?"
Heydrich skillfully pulled a photograph from the file rack.
The scene captured in the photograph could only be described as horrific.
Children were starving until only skin and bone remained. Requisition teams seized even small hidden pockets of grain at gunpoint. Bodies of those who had starved to death lay piled in corners of villages, beside fences, roads, wells, and empty barns.
The fields were barren.
The trees were stripped bare.
Not a single leaf could be seen.
"Führer," Heydrich said, "because Soviet Russia intervened in the Spanish War, almost all Western countries cut off trade with them, including grain trade. Combined with Soviet Russia's policy of prioritizing industry, the food gap has widened even further."
He continued without pause.
"This has caused the famine in Ukraine to escalate into an unprecedented disaster."
Jörg put down the photograph.
"So it is even worse than I anticipated?"
Heydrich nodded.
"Yes, Führer. Much worse."
His expression remained cold and professional.
"And it is not merely famine. Soviet Russia has also launched large scale arrests against Ukrainian intellectuals, elites, workers, and anyone suspected of nationalist tendencies."
He placed another file on the desk.
"Before we acted, they had already carried out multiple operations against Ukrainian nationalist guerrillas."
As he spoke, Heydrich produced a joint letter.
It was filled with accusations against the Soviet Russian government.
Originally, such a letter could never have escaped.
But the division commander of the border troops was a Ukrainian who had once studied at the Roman Military Academy. Through him, Pyotr Ayer, codenamed "the Russian," who had infiltrated Ukraine and maintained close ties with many non Russian military officers, obtained the letter.
Not only that, but Pyotr Ayer had also relied on this dissatisfied division commander to establish close contact with other Ukrainian officers on the Ukrainian side.
The hidden pieces planted years earlier had now become a sharp blade for division.
Jörg put down the letter.
"Can we contact these people? What is the army's attitude?"
"We can contact them, Führer," Heydrich replied. "The army's situation is complicated. Aside from this division commander, who firmly stands with us, there is also a purely Ukrainian infantry brigade that has clearly stated it is willing to fight for its nation if it receives our support."
He turned another page.
"Two senior Ukrainian officers in Kyiv have shown ambiguous attitudes. If the operation begins, we cannot guarantee the occupation of Kyiv itself. We can only control a small area in western Ukraine near Slovakia."
Heydrich paused.
"The total number of disposable soldiers is fewer than ten thousand."
Then he looked up.
"Führer, should we begin the plan?"
His voice was slightly agitated.
His excited pupils resembled those of a bloodthirsty shark, eager to bite flesh from drowning prey.
Jörg did not answer immediately.
He fell into brief thought.
A moment later, he nodded.
"Begin it."
Heydrich's eyes sharpened.
"A rebellious force of fewer than ten thousand is enough," Jörg said. "Lighting the fire is more important than anything else. Give guns to those starving disaster victims, and they will become the most fearless soldiers."
After issuing the order, Jörg sat at the head of the table and picked up the microphone.
"Tell Ethan to come in."
Because of the strict confidentiality measures of the Internal and External Intelligence Department, even Jörg's own adjutant needed to undergo a series of lengthy checks before entering this office.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door.
"Führer."
Ethan pushed the door open and handed a carefully preserved photograph to Jörg.
Understanding the sensitivity of the place, he did not linger. He immediately closed the door again and went to the waiting room under the supervision of two security guards.
Jörg looked at the photograph for a moment, then handed it to Heydrich.
"Besides this, I am giving you another task."
Heydrich took the photograph carefully.
"Ensure this photograph appears on Stalin's desk."
Jörg's voice was low.
"More importantly, ensure that he connects this photograph with the impending Ukrainian rebellion."
Heydrich instantly understood the weight behind the order.
Jörg's gaze grew colder.
"What I want is not merely for Soviet Russia to limp."
His voice became almost inaudible.
"I want him to cut off his own feet."
Heydrich bowed his head.
"Yes, Führer."
One week later, in a small border town in Slovakia, two special Cheka members who had rushed from Moscow had already been lying in wait for a long time.
Their comrades in Berlin had sent a highly valuable clue through telegram.
German intelligence personnel intended to use this border town to pass certain secret letters to high ranking military and political officials inside Soviet Russia.
For a long time, they had suspected that Germany maintained significant connections with certain officers within the country.
However, without concrete evidence, that suspicion could only remain conjecture.
Now, the evidence was right before their eyes.
From the shadows, the two Cheka men watched their target.
He wore a fur coat and had disguised himself as a hunter. After glancing around the quiet street, he approached the wooden cabin at the corner and knocked lightly on the door.
The taller Cheka member could no longer restrain himself.
His fingers found the pistol beneath his coat, and he whispered, "Can we act now? I suspect the traitor he is supposed to meet will not appear today."
He stared at the target.
"With the Germans' vigilance, he may return to Slovakia today. If we do not arrest him now, we may never see him again in our lives."
The shorter Cheka member glanced at his wristwatch.
Then he nodded slowly.
"Wait two more minutes."
The cold wind moved through the street.
Two minutes later, the target stopped knocking and seemed ready to leave.
The shorter Cheka member cocked his pistol and whispered, "Arrest him."
His eyes were cold.
"Keep him alive."
.....
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