BSI Chapter 724 Italy's Sincerity
Chapter 724 Italy's Sincerity
Hindenburg sat in the living room on the second floor of the villa, a glass of mulled wine in front of him. He was dressed casually—a dark gray overcoat over a simple suit and tie—looking like a wealthy German businessman vacationing in the Alps. But his eyes didn't lie. Those cloudy yet sharp eyes had been fixed on the winding mountain road outside the window for a full two hours.
Chief of Staff General Hoffman sat opposite him, also dressed in civilian clothes, also looking at the mountain road.
"Marshal," Hoffman said softly, "you should rest for a while. Boseli won't be here for another two hours."
Hindenburg shook his head.
"No need. I'll wait here."
Hoffman was silent for a few seconds.
"Marshal, do you really trust the Italians?"
Hindenburg turned his head and looked at him.
Do you believe it?
Hoffman paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"I don't believe it."
Hindenburg nodded.
"That's right. It's right not to believe it. The Italians betrayed us two years ago, and they betrayed us again a year ago. Now they want to come back—who knows what they're thinking."
He stood up, walked to the fireplace, and looked at the flickering flames inside.
"But I had to come. His Majesty needs hope."
Hoffman did not speak.
Snow began to fall outside the window. Fine snowflakes drifted down from the sky, landing in the pine forest, on the mountain path, and on the distant, faintly visible peaks. The whole world was slowly turning white and quiet, like a traditional Chinese ink painting in the process of completion.
At 3 p.m., a small black dot appeared on the mountain road.
The black dot grew closer and larger, gradually transforming into a black car. The car crawled laboriously along the mountain road, its wheels crunching over the snow. It rounded one bend after another, finally stopping in front of the villa.
The car door opened, and Boselli got out.
He was wearing a thick leather overcoat and a black top hat, his face showing the weariness of a journey. He looked up at the villa, then at the two plainclothes officers at the door, and strode towards the entrance.
In the living room on the second floor, Hindenburg stood by the window, watching the figure gradually approach.
"He's here," he said.
When Boseli entered the living room, Hindenburg was already sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
The two stared at each other for three seconds.
In three seconds, Boseli saw a seventy-year-old marshal, his face etched with deep wrinkles, his cloudy eyes gleaming with an inexplicable sharpness. In three seconds, Hindenburg saw a politician in his fifties, his eyes sunken, his stubble unkempt, but those eyes—those eyes were as sharp as his.
"Field Marshal Hindenburg," Boseli began, bowing slightly, "thank you for coming."
Hindenburg nodded and pointed to the sofa opposite him.
"Please sit down, Mr. Prime Minister."
Boselli took off his coat and handed it to the servant at the door, then sat down on the sofa. Hoffmann poured him a glass of mulled wine, which he took and held in his hands to warm his palms.
The fire in the fireplace crackled and popped loudly. The aroma of burning wood mingled with the rich scent of red wine, creating a drowsy atmosphere. But no one felt sleepy.
Hindenburg spoke first.
"Mr. Prime Minister, let's get straight to the point."
Boseli nodded.
"Okay. Let's get straight to the point."
Hindenburg looked directly into his eyes.
"Two years ago, Italy was our ally. When the war first broke out, you refused to join us in attacking France, citing the excuse that 'the alliance treaty only applies to defensive wars.' Then, you secretly negotiated with Britain and France, took their benefits, and then turned around and declared war on us."
Boseli's expression remained unchanged.
"A year ago, Italy officially became a member of the Allied Powers. You amassed 500,000 men on the Isonzo River front, tying down at least 15 of our divisions. No fewer than 100,000 of our soldiers died at your hands."
Boseli remained silent.
"Now," Hindenburg's voice trailed off, "you want to come back again. Mr. Chancellor, please tell me—why should Germany trust you?"
The living room was quiet for a few seconds.
Only the fire in the fireplace was crackling.
Boseli picked up his glass and took a large gulp of red wine. Then he put the glass down and looked at Hindenburg.
"Marshal, you are right. Italy did indeed betray Germany. Twice."
He paused.
"But do you know why?"
Hindenburg remained silent.
Boseli stood up and walked to the window. Outside, snowflakes were still falling, and the distant mountain peaks were already blurred in the wind and snow.
"Because Italy is too weak. So weak that it has to oscillate between major powers in order to survive."
He turned and looked at Hindenburg.
"Marshal, do you know the difference between Italy and Germany?"
Hindenburg remained silent.
Boseli answered that himself.
"Germany has steel, coal, industry, and a powerful army. What does Italy have? We have sunshine, beaches, the ruins of ancient Rome, and ten million starving farmers. We have nothing." (Does anyone mention Italian women?)
He walked back to the sofa and sat down.
"When the war first broke out, we thought Germany would win. So we stood on Germany's side. But when we saw the British and French navies blockade the Mediterranean, when we saw German submarines unable to rescue our merchant ships, when we saw our cities on the verge of starvation—we were afraid. We were afraid of being dragged down with them, afraid of sinking with Germany."
Hindenburg looked at him.
"So you betrayed us?"
Boseli nodded.
"Yes. We betrayed them. To survive."
He looked directly into Hindenburg's eyes.
"Now, we're going to betray Britain and France again. Again, it's all for survival."
Hindenburg remained silent for a long time.
Then he asked, "This time, can you guarantee you won't betray me?"
Boseli shook his head.
"cannot."
Hoffman's expression changed. He stood up abruptly, his hand on the pistol at his waist.
Boseli waved his hand.
"General Hoffman, calm down. Let me finish."
He looked at Hindenburg.
"Marshal, I cannot guarantee I won't betray you. Because no one can guarantee the future. But I can guarantee one thing—"
He paused.
"This time, Italy's betrayal will be a betrayal of Britain and France, not a betrayal of Germany."
Hindenburg stared at him for a long time.
"How can you prove it?"
Boseli took a thick document out of his briefcase and pushed it in front of Hindenburg.
"Marshal, this is the plan I have drafted. Please take a look."
Hindenburg took the document and turned to the first page. Hoffmann leaned over to look at it together.
The first page contains military plans.
"Italy will withdraw twenty divisions from the Austro-Hungarian front and secretly assemble them on the northern border. The assembly will be completed by December 25th. On January 1st, a full-scale offensive will be launched against southeastern France. Targets: Nice, Savoy, and Corsica."
Hindenburg looked up and glanced at Boseli.
Boseli nodded.
Hindenburg continued to turn the page.
The second page contains naval plans.
"The Italian Navy will deploy its entire fleet to blockade the central Mediterranean. The main fleet will attack British supply lines in the Mediterranean, and the submarine force will enter the Strait of Gibraltar to attack British merchant ships entering and leaving the Mediterranean. At the same time, some ships will sail to Egypt to support the Lanfang Army's attack on the Suez Canal."
The third page contains political commitments.
"The Italian government will publicly announce its withdrawal from the Entente Powers and its rejoining of the Central Powers. Prime Minister Boselli will personally issue a statement condemning the betrayal and oppression of Italy by Britain and France, and calling on the Italian people to unite under the banner of the German-Italian alliance."
Hindenburg turned the last page, closed the document, and looked at Boseli.