At two o'clock in the afternoon of the 21st, a motorcade of limousines entered the Imperial Forum along the Via Corso, circled the National Shrine and then stopped at the entrance of the Palazzo Venezia.

Several officers jumped out of the car that opened the road, then rushed to the car behind and respectfully opened the door for the passengers.

Pietro. Marshal Badogglio stepped down from the station and looked up at the tall Venetian Palace, which was originally the official residence of the Pope for himself, and was originally built relatively tall and sturdy for personal safety reasons, and it is said that many of the building materials were removed from the Colosseum, and later generations can easily distinguish those ancient pale yellow stones.

There were two blackshirt sentries standing at the door, and when they saw Badoglio in a gorgeous formal dress and the general who came with him, the two sentries almost forgot to salute, and waited until the retinue officer on the side reminded them that they hurriedly erected their rifles in their hands, raised their chins and saluted the generals and marshals.

As if he hadn't seen the two blackshirts at all, Badoglio strode into the mansion, only to glance at the sentry as he crossed the threshold.

"Good afternoon, Your Excellency, I have not been notified that you are coming, the Prime Minister is now in his office to meet guests, and I need to report it first." The adjutant of the guard, who was on standby in the reception hall downstairs, stepped forward and gave a fascist salute to Badoglio, and then respectfully reported.

"Don't bother, Captain." Badoglio walked directly past the military attache towards the stairs.

"Your Excellency, this is not in accordance with the regulations." The captain tried to stop him, but was pushed aside by the marshal's retinue of adjutants.

"Kavliani, you go up with me, the others are waiting below, if the prime minister wants to see someone, he will send someone to inform him." Badoglio stopped after walking up the two steps, turned to the generals who were following him, and raised his arm to wave at Cavliani.

The navy blue uniform of the Chief of Staff of the Italian Navy stood out in a pile of gray army uniforms, and he squeezed through several army generals and walked in front of Badoglio.

"Are you really going to tell him the truth?" The admiral asked with his hands in his trouser pockets, raising his face and solemnly.

Badogglio didn't answer, he glanced up at the roof, then turned and began to climb the stairs.

The Admiral reached out and grabbed his collar and moved his neck from side to side, then followed the Field Marshal up the stairs.

"What is it called! You're just perfunctory! This is dereliction of duty! ”

As soon as I walked up to the second floor, Mussolini's angry roar echoed in the hallway. The two officers glanced at each other, and both saw a kind of helplessness in each other's eyes.

The floor slabs on the second floor are paved with reddish-brown tiles, still in the style of the 17th century, and the walls along both sides of the corridor are painted in pale teal, in a more modest style without much embellishment. But once you enter the room, you are immediately struck by the ornate furnishings of the interior, where the walls are decorated with paintings by famous Italian historians, or frescoes in the style of Raphael, and the ceiling is covered with plaster sculptures, mostly of ancient Roman war scenes and myths.

There is no furniture in these halls, and if there is, it is purely ornamental, with rooms lined with a circle of chairs against the wall, while others have several glass display cases with jewels from the Roman Empire and icons and albums from the papal period.

Mussolini's office was at the end of the hallway, in a corner of the rectangular building, next to Piazza Venezia, where he would sometimes address fervent Italian fascists.

All the doors were open at this point, and Mussolini's room could be seen from the top of the corridor, through several halls.

"This is impossible, this is absolutely impossible, the Italian people will not give in, let that blonde boy come, come and taste our awesomeness!" The roaring continued, but it sounded a little lacking.

"Your Excellency Marshal, Your Excellency the Admiral!" The Prime Minister's aide-de-camp was waiting at the door of his office.

"It's Minister Ziano, he's just returned from Paris, and things are not going well," the major reported in a whisper.

"I know it all, and that's why I'm here." Badoglio stopped the major and strode into the office.

"Good afternoon, Your Excellency the Prime Minister (some books call him Prime Minister, but in fact Italy was still the Kingdom at the time)." Badoglio stood in the doorway and saluted Mussolini.

"Why are you here, Your Excellency the Chief of the General Staff? I mean, good afternoon, Your Excellency Badoglio, and General Cavliani. The sudden visit of Badoglio and the Chief of the General Staff of the Navy surprised Mussolini a little.

"I'm sorry I didn't inform you, Your Excellency Prime Minister, that I have some not-so-good news." Badoglio took off his military hat and tucked it under his armpit, then took a folded document from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Mussolini.

"Could there be worse news? The Germans are burning and looting in the villages of Italy, the French Army is also on the border, while our troops are still gathering in Florence, and the Fourth Army is ready to wait until the time to cross the Apennines. Are Grosso's troops ready? How much did the Roman high command know about the situation with the Germans, and how many infantry did the Germans use in total ... That's impossible...! Mussolini chattered as he unfolded the document that Badogglio had given him, and before he had finished three lines he exclaimed.

"Is this true? This is written: Why didn't I get any news before? ”

"It has been confirmed that the German Afrika Korps is landing in Sicily, and that the 28th Aosta Infantry Division and the 54th Neapolitan Infantry Division are putting up stubborn resistance on the island, and if they do not receive support, they are expected to be annihilated within twenty-four hours." Badogri replied with his head raised.

Mussolini hurried over to the eight-meter-long table in the center of the room, where the vases and ornaments had been removed from the table that had been used to decorate it, and were now covered with maps of various sizes.

Pulling out a map of Sicily and the surrounding area, Mussolini picked up the magnifying glass and looked at it for a long time, but it was obvious that the leader did not see anything, and he threw the magnifying glass on the table in a bit of anger.

"How many troops can we use now?" Mussolini asked.

"Not one, Your Excellency, Prime Minister. We do not have any effective programme to support Sicily. Badoglio stroked the beard from his lips and replied calmly.

"How is this possible, I clearly remember that we made ten infantry divisions stationed in the south. Ziano, you were there at that meeting, you heard it at the time. The Army Staff deployed a full fifteen divisions in the provinces of Calabria and Basilicata. Mussolini asked aloud about his son-in-law.

The dog that Ziano was scolded just now was bloody and embarrassed, and the arrival of Badoglio obviously would not be a good thing, the foreign minister hurriedly shrank into the corner of the room and pretended to be a potted plant, but he didn't expect that the final topic still reached his hands, Ziano blinked his eyes a few times, but found that his brain was empty, and he couldn't remember that he had this incident in his memory.

Looking at Ziano, who was standing there wiping his sweat and muttering speechlessly, Mussolini felt that he was angry, because he valued this son-in-law so much, and he never thought that his original form would be revealed at a critical moment, and he was completely an embroidered pillow that was useless.

"There are indeed these troops, Your Excellency Prime Minister." Finding out that Mussolini was about to attack again, Badoglio hurriedly stepped forward to save the foreign minister.

"However, all the troops are severely under-represented and scattered over a large area, and it will take us a week to assemble them, as well as a large number of weapons, ammunition and baggage for them to use in battle. The bigger question is...."Badoglio turned his head to look at the Chief of the General Staff of the Navy.

"At the moment we simply have no way to get them to the island, we lack the ships to transport them, and we can't mobilize the necessary escorts." The field marshal reported with an indifferent expression.

PS: The second chapter is presented.

Thanks to Ivan, Han Fatzi, Imperial Infinity, zzzd, sryxnyx for the 500 tips, as well as Ak M4, Maple Leaf Shuangyuan and Ping Mingxun Baiyu for the 100 tips.

Thank you all for your support and encouragement. (To be continued.) )