It had been close to a year since the Great War Broke out, or at least well over three-fourths of the way there. And in this time the Allies had not gained a single victory, whether on land, at sea, or in the air. They were thoroughly trounced with each and every attempt to fight the Central Powers.
One might say that if they continued any longer, their populations would lose the will to fight and riot at the end of the war. It was perhaps because of this that the Italians who had little to gain from joining this conflict to begin with were in a particularly anxious state.
Over the course of the last year that had pushed into the Alps in an attempt to break through into South Tyrol, lands rightfully ruled by the Habsburg Dynasty as given to them by God. Now, however, the Italians sought to claim these lands, and in doing so were recklessly sending men into the slaughter.
Five times they had fought, and five times they had been repelled. That is, until today. As the winter snow still froze upon the mountain tops of the Alps, both sides sat in the trenches, freezing and starving as they waited for one another to make the move.
It was obvious that the Austro-Hungarian Army, with their elevation advantage and exceptional fortifications, would not be making the move, so then naturally, it fell to the Italians to charge. And charge they did.
But not like they normally had. Rather as if learning something from lessons waged in the Balkans. The Italians made use of their own “stormtroopers” to covertly make their way into a weaker part of the Austro-Hungarian defenses where its guards were currently drinking and smoking around a fire pit.
Mother Europe was cold, west, and filled with frost, enough so to kill a lesser man. It was this hardship that its children had grown in. It surrounded them, molded them, and created a hardy race of men who, at this point in time, more or less had conquered the known world.
And today was especially cold. The darkness of the storm clouds unleashing a blizzard upon the otherwise winter wonderland, as the soldiers huddled in their warmest clothes around fires. Only a fool would dare to venture into no-man’s-land, where they could rely only on the warmth of their thick wool clothing to protect them from the elements on this day.
Or perhaps a man desperate for a victory. The Austro-Hungarian forces had underestimated their Italian opponents, who needed a winnow, or else they would lose the war altogether. And because of this, few men were properly at their post where they should be.
It was perhaps because of this that they were so surprised when they saw men walking in their trenches who were not wearing proper Austro-Hungarian equipment. It was hard to tell at first, what with the blinding frost fall.
They, after all, more or less wore the same color of uniforms. And nobody in their right mind was wearing a helmet right now. Rather, they wore furs and hats designed to protect the wearer from the extreme cold.
Hence why it was only until they had a knife in their chest, that these men realized it was Italians they were passing by. And these Italian stormtroopers did an excellent job making sure the men they killed made no noticeable sounds of their untimely demises.
Swift and deadly, they made their way through the Austro-Hungarian defenses, until finally enough of a gap had been made. And when that happened, the signal was given. A flare was launched in the air over the position they had taken.
And in doing so, signaling the charge to begin as the Italian Army, or those who would be pushing forward, rushed through the winter snow towards the gap in the enemy defenses that their elite trench raiders had created for them.
The call came late in the evening, but nevertheless, Generalfeldmarschall August von Mackensen, and Svetozar Boroevic were stunned when they heard it.
These two senior officers were well beyond the rear lines of the Italian Theater, and were instead enjoying their stay at a proper command center set up to monitor the situation and convey commands, one that was far more reasonably heated than the trenches their soldiers were currently bleeding in.
In a shocking twist of events, the Italians had bet the house on the Austro-Hungarian defenses being lax in the worst whether they could possibly fight in. And they had wisely done so. Allowing their elite trench raiding specialists to pierce the gaps in Austro-Hungary’s defenses, and break through the front lines.
Thousands of men, or perhaps even tens of thousands were fighting in one critical sector of the Alpine defenses, and if it falls, the German and Austro-Hungarian Armies might for the first time in the war be forced further inland from their initial borders with their enemies. Von Mackensen was not happy with this news, and immediately gave the order to send reinforcements via the robust rail system that littered the landscape of the Alps which was all thanks of Bruno’s hefty investments in to the infrastructure of the German Reich and their two neighboring allies.
For the first time since the war began, the test of Central Powers’ logistical network and its ability to reinforce critical areas of defense was truly underway. And because of this, the two aging generals who were about to call it a night and instead head to their respective rooms for some proper rest were now sipping coffee and staying up throughout the night to hear how things went.
Either way, the First Major battle of the Italian Theater, one which pitted hundreds of thousands of men against each other, had just begun. Bruno would hear of the event after the first battle was concluded, and when he did so, he would not have the proper words to say how much he despised the incompetency of his allies, which ultimately led to this result.