The landing operation went smoothly. As the Italian Navy's main base, Taranto's defenses were naturally the Navy's responsibility.
The struggle between army and navy existed in every country, and Italy was no exception—especially since Italy was a nation dominated by its navy. How could the security of the Navy's lair possibly be handed over to army horse manure?
For decades, this place had been Italy's deep rear. Taranto had not seen war in all those years, and aside from the naval garrison units, its defenders consisted of hastily conscripted militia.
Without question, they were all useless trash with combat strength below five. The unlucky Major General Georgev-Mese had once again become the commander.
It couldn't be helped. Who told Georgev-Mese to be on duty just when the Bulgarian Air Force launched its surprise attack?
He had no choice but to take the blame. And afterward, the "experts" would surely find a whole series of pieces of evidence proving that his command errors had caused the Navy's devastating losses.
If he could drive back the enemy, he might still atone for his crimes through merit; otherwise, he would be crowned Italy's new dumbest general!
The previous record-holder was that fellow who had been defeated in Ethiopia. Georgev-Mese was on track to stand shoulder to shoulder with him—one from the Army, one from the Navy, a perfect pair.
But it didn't matter. Records were made to be broken, and the Italian Army had done an excellent job in that regard. He needn't worry about being lonely!
Georgev-Mese had no confidence at all in holding Taranto. The main problem was those bastards in the sky—they could only take a beating and couldn't strike back.
To deal with the Bulgarian aircraft, Georgev-Mese had racked his brains over air defense measures. Unfortunately, lacking anti-aircraft weapons,