There were so many routes to choose from across the Apennines from the Po Plain, and Italian merchants and mountain dwellers carved out a spider's web of roads through the mountains over the centuries, and feudal lords established numerous mountain villages and a busy network of trade between the city-states.

The Apennines in autumn are delicate and beautiful, and although it is late October, the mountains are still full of greenery. The rushing Sewena Creek flows from the valley floor on the mountain side, and although you can't see the river from the mountain road, you can clearly hear the roar of the river crashing against the rocky embankment.

Tulio. Sergeant Martino sat in the shade of a beech tree on the side of the mountain road, with his Carcano rifle in his arms, staring blankly at a steep rock wall that had collapsed into the texture of the rock, thinking about the troubles of his home.

He served in the Italian Army's 2nd [Tolitantina] Alpine Division, which is currently under siege by French mountain infantry units on the border between Italy and France. Compared to the rest of the division, Martino's Verona battalion was apparently lucky, as they were removed from the front by the high command two weeks before the outbreak of the war and moved to the vicinity of Pisa for reorganization, which prevented them from being surrounded and annihilated with the rest of the army. Although no one could figure out the purpose of the command's brainless order, the officers and men still expressed their happiness and gratitude from the bottom of their hearts.

These Alpine eagles almost broke their wings on the cold and bloody battlefield on the border, and aside from the physical pain, it was more of a mental pressure and fatigue.

They are no longer the fearless hairy boys they were in their twenties, and most of the officers and soldiers had already formed families in their hometowns at this time.

Martino saw too much death and sacrifice on the battlefield, and to his anger and helplessness with his comrades, most of them died worthless, as cheap cannon fodder for the generals after two glasses of wine or on a whim.

The terrain occupied by Italy on the frontier was not conducive to warfare in the first place, and the French built a series of forts and fortresses on the sides and ridges of important mountain passes, and on those narrow mountain roads, the Italian forces could not be deployed at all.

In many dangerous positions, the French could easily hold off an infantry battalion with only one or two well-ammunition machine-gun groups and strong fortifications. At that time, for every French pillbox of this type, Italy had to pay for the lives of dozens or even hundreds of brave soldiers.

Italy's mountain forces were divided into two types, the Alpine Mountain Division and the Mountain Conventional Infantry Division.

The most elite of these were the Alpine divisions known as the Alpini, which were true mountain troops, with strong, well-trained soldiers who could carry heavy weapons and carry heavy loads over steep mountains. They relied entirely on their own legs, and with the help of an ice axe and a bundle of rope, they were able to climb most of the cliffs with their bare hands.

They were the most elite infantry unit in Italy, and the Italians called them the "Eagles of the Alps", and their cockades had the eagle logo on them, and those who did not know the inside would mistake them for the air force of any country.

They wore Alpine-style mountain felt hats with their signature black crow feathers stuck on one side of the wall, special mountain combat boots and woollen leggings on their feet, and the same Carcano rifles as ordinary infantrymen.

But no matter how elite and brave the soldiers, they are all treated equally in the face of modern firearms, and they will not lose one more life than the soldiers of the regular infantry divisions.

When the French army began a counteroffensive on all fronts, the 2nd Mountain Division, which was covering on the flanks of the battle line, had no time to retreat, suffered heavy losses in the battle.

Two companies of the Edor Battalion of the 5th [Tolitentina] Mountain Regiment were annihilated in formation, and the Tirano Battalion surrendered to the French after being encircled, and only the Morbeneo Battalion managed to withdraw. On that occasion, the Verona battalion happened to rotate in the rear to replenish supplies, and they managed to escape.

Many people in the Mountain Division privately rumored that the camp was favored by Lady Luck, but Martino never saw it that way, he always believed that people can't survive by luck, and this kind of luck from heaven will often make you pay it back one day.

Now that it was really said by Martino, this rare elite force was taken by the Roman high command at a glance, and was transferred to the Apennines to build a defensive line against the German attack, thinking that he was about to fight the German army, which was several times stronger than the French, and might even encounter the legendary German mountain troops, Martino did not know whether he should be frustrated or excited now.

"Second Lieutenant Piero has asked, we're going to stay here until three o'clock in the afternoon before we leave." Corporal Emberto, who was in the same platoon as Martino, walked up to Martino's side with a box.

"I've got a ration, would I like to add another meal?" Emberto sat down cross-legged across from Martino and placed the box between the two.

"Still thinking about your family? Hearing that the Germans did not destroy the town this time, Elena and the child should be fine, and old Paul is taking care of them. When this battle is over, you will be able to meet them. Emberto opened the carton and took out a can from it.

"Your knife is still there, lend me it." The corporal held out his hand to Martino.

"I've been praying to God that they will be safe and sound. I also knew that worrying would not help, but when I thought that Nina was only three years old, my mother's health was not good, and there was not much money left in the family, I knew that I should send back some more paychecks. Martino took a folding knife from the pocket of his military uniform and handed it to his comrades.

"Prepare a lunch box, there is a lot of oil in it, just enough to fry sausages. I don't think this battle will be fought for long, and you'll see your Elena soon, Tulio. Emberto opened the can opener on the folding knife and pressed it hard into the tin lid.

"Don't talk nonsense, how do you know this battle will end soon, be careful not to let Piero hear." Martino leaned his rifle against the trunk of a tree and dug his cutlery out of his backpack. This is the lunch box he bought during his trip to Rome, and it is much better than the material distributed by the army.

"Tell me what's going on? Could it be that Piero could still take me to court-martial? Even I, a corporal, could see the problem, and I don't believe that these officers could not see clearly. Yes, Piero was a hardcore fascist, but he had a smarter brain than all of us combined. Emberto pried open the can of sardines and carefully poured the olive oil, which smelled of fish fat, into the lid of the lunch box that Martino handed out.

"I'm going to make a fire, I've got a potato and half an onion here, chop it and fry it with the sausages, that taste... Gee. Embeto put his fingers in front of his mouth and made a delicious gesture.

The food of the Italian troops was actually quite rich, basically bread, all kinds of vegetables, cured meats and fresh fish, as well as jam and honey as seasoning, soldiers could get some beer and wine, and officers could drink some strong wine, and in general, the food standard was in the middle of the European countries.

As for pasta, it can only be served during a break at the station, as it requires professional cooking utensils and plenty of fresh water for cooking.

Of course, these are only limited to the troops guarding the homeland, and the troops fighting overseas have a much harder time, and when they encounter fierce fighting and supply difficulties, the soldiers can only nibble on compressed biscuits and eat canned cured meat, because canned food spoils quickly in the tropics, the Italian soldiers call those stinky canned meat "Mussolini's butts".

Martino, of course, did not need to eat that kind of food, and when they marched through some villages, they also specially purchased some vegetables as some daily nutritional supplements.

They were an Alpine infantry battalion, equipped with only a few mules and horses for mountain use, and most of the baggage was transported by wagons. The wagons were now full of ammunition and weapons for the battle to come, and the soldiers had to carry most of their personal rations.

Fortunately, the mountain soldiers had long been accustomed to this, and in addition to basic weapons, ammunition, emergency rations, and personal belongings, each person carried more than fifteen kilograms of extra supplies. This obviously slowed down the march of the troops, but judging by the performance of the battalion commander along the way, it seemed that he did not want to hurry at all.

Martino dug a shallow pit in the dirt, cut off some dead bark with the end of an ice axe for fuel, cut a small piece of wool felt from an old legging to use as a fire trigger, and the sergeant lit a fire with a kerosene lighter.

"I've long seen that there is something wrong with the battle plan this time." Emberto peels potatoes with a folding knife.

"We only met two infantry regiments along the way, one of which was still the Black Shirts. I heard that there were also two infantry battalions of the Blackshirts in front of us. I didn't see tanks, artillery, not even trucks, and I didn't come across a few. You and I both participated in the pre-war preparations, think about what it was like back then. Emberto put the chopped potatoes in the lid of the lunch box.

"I also feel that something is wrong, it doesn't look like we're preparing for a big battle, but maybe the big army will follow us, didn't I hear what the battalion commander said, we are the first line of defense."

"And what about the heavy weapons that are assigned to us, and what do we use to stop the German tanks, relying on your old rifle?" Emberto wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his military uniform, and quickly slipped the onion in his hand.

"So, this time you listen to me, I don't want to put my life in the hands of those unreliable generals. I'm going to live no matter what, and I've got a lot more things to do, and so are you, Tulio. You must live and then go home and see your Elena. Emberto put the onion and two sausages in the lid, then took the handle and lifted the lid and placed it on the fire.

"Of course I'll go back, I promised them." Martino nodded vigorously to cheer himself up.

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