As he marched, Corporal Pezzella, who was acting as the vanguard, suddenly raised his right hand and bowed his head at the same time. This gesture caused Lieutenant Festa and the remaining two soldiers to immediately stop their movements, and the group of four suddenly stopped like sculptures in the ruined neighborhood.

After two seconds, Festa picked up his pistol and tiptoed over to the corporal. Following his line of sight, at the mouth of the alley less than thirty meters away, a soldier in blue-gray camouflage was looking around vigilantly.

"It's Irish!" Festa's secret words are not good, based on their personal experience and the summary of friendly and neighboring troops, the new United King's ** team, which is dominated by Irishmen, has a unit combat strength far above the Austro-Hungarian Army.

"This road can't be crossed here, there is a firefight going on in the north, so we can only try to detour from the south." Corporal Pezzella whispered to Festa, gesturing with his hand.

Festa looked around warily, then pulled out a folded military map from his pocket, showing the latest topography of Venice and a pencil note about the garrison's defenses.

It's just that what you see in front of you is very different from the map.

"To the south is the landing ground of the enemy's troops, and there must be more enemies in that direction, and there may also be encounters with enemy tanks." With that, Festa listened closely, and sure enough, he faintly heard the roar of the vehicle's engine.

"Retreat, or," Corporal Pezzella made a gesture of rushing over.

Festa shook his head, just the four of them had three spears, and it would be tantamount to an egg hitting a stone if they had to fight with the Irish combat unit even if they were only half a squad.

Just as he hesitated, there was a sudden explosion of a grenade in front, followed by the roar of a Breda submachine gun. Festa was overjoyed, and when he and Corporal Pezzella looked in, there were no enemy soldiers at the entrance of the alley, but from time to time stray bullets flew by, and a cloud of smoke rose farther north.

"Our people are there!" Pezzella pointed to a half-collapsed building to the north, her words slightly excited.

Festa looked at it and saw at least a dozen gray-green figures crouching or lying on their stomachs, shooting at the opposing coalition forces with their respective weapons. Perhaps because of the gray and watery uniforms, these Italian soldiers looked like a bunch of rats, and within half a minute of the firefight, some of them kept retreating, which was more fitting for this embarrassing image.

Festa waved at the two people behind him: "Quick! Take the opportunity to rush over! ”

Pezzella's weapon is a Breda submachine gun that is close to the German-made MP33 in shape and performance, compared to other standard weapons used by the Italian army, this submachine gun is still more reliable and durable, compared to the huge crater Breda M1930 light machine gun, it is simply impeccable!

The four men left the ruins and tried to reach the first destination of the trip, the stone building standing on the water's edge, as fast as they could, but only a dozen meters away, an Irish soldier armed with an STG45 assault rifle appeared in their sight. He obviously didn't expect four Italians to run from behind him, and he was at a loss for what to do at the first moment, but the military qualities cultivated by strict training were there, and he didn't shoot blindly, but at the moment when the opponent was about to fire at him, he suddenly dodged backwards, relying on the broken wall next to him to avoid the bullets fired by the opponent.

The failure of the blow not only made Pezzella very frustrated, but Festa also complained in his heart. The assault rifle in the enemy's hand was enough to bring the four of them to the ground, so he took the lead and threw himself into the rubble pile on the side, shouting "covert shooting".

Pezzella had just shot a shuttle with a submachine gun, and when he heard Festa's order, he hurriedly rolled to the back of the rubble, but the two soldiers behind them were not as agile as them, and only hesitated in the blink of an eye, one of them was hit by a bullet from the alley, and the other followed with a rolling belt, but abandoned his weapon on the road.

Seeing that his men had been shot, Festa first raised his 9mm Beretta pistol and fired two shots at the entrance of the alley, then took a deep breath and ran to the injured man at a speed of 100 meters, dragging him desperately behind the rubble. During this time, Pezzella fired several short shots in cover until all the bullets in the magazine were gone, and then he dodged to change the magazine.

In times of crisis, people are often able to burst out with unimaginable power. After dragging the wounded soldier in, Festa felt his blood rush and his heart almost jumped out of his throat, but he had no time to breathe, and while picking up the wounded soldier's Karcano rifle, he commanded the soldier who had lost his weapon: "Quickly, bandage his wounds!" ”

Listening to the rhythmic hiss of the STG45, Festa cautiously lay on the edge of the rubble, and when the gunfire stopped, he tried to peek out, but before he could see anything, he heard bullets flying overhead.

Lieutenant Festa's heart was crossed, he glanced out, and quickly shrank his head back completely. In the flash of light, he roughly observed the situation at the entrance of the alley, in addition to the Irish soldier who had a big life before, there are now at least two more people, who are estimated to be assault riflemen, and the fire density, accuracy and persistence are beyond the reach of his side, and if it is better, maybe the enemy's bazooka fighters will come to support.

"We can't be trapped here." Festa said to Pezzella, who had changed the magazine, "Otherwise, it will be a dead end." ”

Pezzella looked at the wounded who were lying on the ground panting heavily: "But Simon can't walk, are we going to leave him to the enemy?" ”

Festa couldn't help but frown.

"Let's go!" The wounded man painfully covered the wound that had just been plugged with hemostatic cotton, and said with difficulty and determination: "Leave me alone! ”

Festa knelt on one knee and reached out to grab the wounded's other palm: "I'm sorry, Simon, we can't continue the fight with you, but no matter what the outcome of this battle is, we still have a chance to meet again!" ”

The wounded swallowed with great difficulty: "Yes, lieutenant, we will definitely see you again." ”

"You're good, Simon!" Festa gritted his teeth: "Let's go, go back the way we came!" ”

Meanwhile, at the opposite alleyway, Maguire, a veteran sergeant major of the New United Kingdom Marine Corps, holds an STG45 assault rifle diagonally in both hands and rests shoulders against the edge of a broken wall less than a man high, cautiously observing the rubble where the Italians are hiding.

"There were four people in all, one of whom was wounded, at least a pistol and a submachine gun, and possibly other weapons." The marine, who had nearly lost his life while meeting the Italians, reported to Maguire 1510.

"I thought the Italians were a flock of ducks, but that doesn't seem to be the case." Maguire muttered, "There are still some Italians who are as heroic as geese." ”

"What now?" "There are Italians on both sides, and it's just separating us from our allies." ”

Maguire said disapprehantly: "I think, they just don't want to be caught, they don't really want to fight with us, what we have to do is to find a way to contain them." When the reinforcements came up, these Italians had no way out, and naturally they would lay down their arms and surrender. ”

As soon as he finished speaking, he saw a black thing flying out from behind the pile of rubble on the opposite side, and Maguire and the two marines under his command hurriedly hid backwards. In an instant, a loud bang came from ahead. Despite being accustomed to the explosions on the battlefield, the Marines' ears were buzzing.

Judging by the intensity of the explosion, the opponent should be using a defensive fragmentation grenade.

"Want to escape?"

Maguire snorted coldly, and before the smoke cleared, he took the lead in jumping out of the shelter, bent down, and rushed through the open area seven or eight meters wide, leaning sideways against the slope of a pile of rubble.

When I looked around, three Italians retreated under the cover of a grenade explosion.

Two Marines followed.

Estimating the rhythm of the other party's actions, Maguire whispered in his mouth: "Listen to my command to fire, one, two, three!" ”

Stepping on the "three" point, the three of them leaned forward in tacit understanding and fired in the direction they were aiming at. The three STG45 assault rifles burst out with a loud click, and a series of bullets burst out, forming two dashed fire whips.

In continuous burst mode, the bullets in the magazine do not deplete quickly. Maguire, however, was not infatuated with the pleasure of shooting, and estimated that he had fired half a magazine, wounding at least one of his enemies, forcing them to halt their retreat halfway, and rolling into the rubble in great embarrassment, and then shouted, "Ceasefire!" Take cover! Standby! ”

On Festa's side, Pezzella's injury made their situation extremely difficult. The only thing to be thankful for is that although Pezzella was shot, she did not lose her weapon. With the last kit used, Festa had to dispose of Pezzella with the simplest method of halting the bleeding, then threw the rifle to another soldier, picked up the submachine gun himself, and leaned against the ruins for a final struggle.

At the moment of probe, Festa saw two Irish marines bending over this direction, crossing the distance at their speed in a matter of seconds, and then the muzzle of the gun was on the head, and no matter how great their ability was, it was difficult for them to do anything.

Without any hesitation, without any concerns, Festa rose with his gun. In close-quarters combat, the biggest advantage of the Breda submachine gun was its rapid-fire maneuverability, so Festa gave up aiming and fired horizontally from left to right directly by feeling, with six or seven rounds as an intermittent point. After this first shuttle, I felt that I had hit a target, or at least caused the opponent to be bruised. Next, the muzzle of the gun is slightly translated, both hands use force to counteract the rebound caused by the recoil as much as possible, and the fingers rhythmically pull the trigger, a shuttle, a shuttle, a shuttle, and the last shuttle directly discharges all the bullets.

Behind the flash rubble, Festa gasped for breath, he dropped the completely empty magazine, took the last one from Pezzella, skillfully loaded it, and then looked at his companion who was bleeding from the wound, and said with a wry smile: "We still can't get rid of the shackles of fate after all, but whether we are killed in battle or captured, we have done our best, and we can have a clear conscience." ”

"Let's have a cigarette!" Pezzella suddenly said to him, "In fact, there are some things that we little people can't change at all, we know it, but we don't want to admit it, it's our stubbornness that has brought us to this point." ”

As if he had been drained of strength, Festa sat down on the ground, dropped his submachine gun, and silently took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook it, but only the last one.

He lit the cigarette, took a puff, and brought it to Pezzella's mouth.

Pezzella took a deep breath, a little sad, a little relieved, and then his expression became a little strange, and in those slightly cloudy eyes, it was just the scene of the Irish Marine standing behind Festa

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