On the 26th, the wind in the Mediterranean calmed to a force 4. The Italian High Command had initially intended to postpone the attack, considering that stronger winds would lead to more dispersed paratrooper landings. However, pressure from Rome left the frontline soldiers with no choice but to proceed (as Rome's primary target at this stage was Greece, where they launched an attack on October 28th). At 10 a.m., 181 Italian aircraft, bearing the emblem of "three clubs around an axe," took off from the airfields of Sicily and descended upon Malta in a formidable display. Alongside the notorious 79 Squadron, over thirty Fiat BR.20 bombers joined the formation. In the face of these raucous black birds, 27 British fighters bravely ascended to intercept. These were the last remaining aircraft on Malta, consisting of only 9 Hurricanes, with the rest being Sea Gladiators hastily transported by the Royal Navy.
While the overall performance of the Italian forces was lackluster, the pilots of the air force proved to be a diligent group. Maneuvering their aged CR.42s and less capable MC.200s, they engaged in dogfights with British fighters, while the bomber formations seized the opportunity to pass through the weak aerial blockade. Within minutes, black bombs began to rain down on Malta, igniting fires near the airfields close to Valletta, and the British anti-aircraft positions became targets for the enemy strikes. Despite Italian losses with planes falling one after another, British casualties rapidly mounted.
As the clamor of battle echoed from Malta, the airfields on Sicily remained a scene of bustling activity. Three squadrons of Savoia-Marchetti SM.75 transport planes were prepared for departure, with over 1,200 paratroopers boarding with their parachutes. Ironically, due to the shortage of transport aircraft, even these two battalions of paratroopers had to be dropped in two separate waves!
"Major, good luck to you!"
Logan shook hands solemnly with Major Tony, and among the Italian officers he encountered, it was only this paratrooper officer, with a resemblance to the Italian football star Pirlo, who left a favorable impression on Logan. Besides his appearance, what mattered most was his meticulous work attitude and abundant enthusiasm. Of course, his paratroopers, especially the Libyans among them, were also highly motivated and actively trained.
"Farewell, General Logan! Please wait here for the good news of our victory!"
The middle-aged "short-haired Pirlo" held his head high, his confident smile momentarily making Logan forget about the Italian military uniform he was wearing.
One transport plane after another took off, and over a dozen bi-winged CR.42s flew in from the northern airfield to participate in the escort mission. This was the first time the Italian paratroopers had stepped onto the stage of war, and it was also an important attempt at joint operations by the Italian army, navy, and air force. However, Logan's mood remained uneasy: could the Italians win this battle for Malta?
Around 11 a.m., as the transport planes, divided into three echelons, flew over, the pristine white parachutes finally blossomed splendidly over Malta. Drawing from the successful experiences of the Germans in Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Britain, the Italians eagerly took steps to operationalize their paratroopers.
However, what awaited the Italian paratroopers' airborne descent were clusters of black "cotton candy."
Back in August and September, British convoys had transported large numbers of troops and equipment to the island under the direct escort of the formidable British "H Force" fleet. The Italian fleet had attempted interception twice, but due to poor reconnaissance by the Italian air force, the powerful fleet failed to fulfill its intended role. As a result, the British forces on the island were left with less than a battalion of troops and 40 Bofors anti-aircraft guns to resist.
Currently, 1,500 British officers and soldiers focused their defense on the Maltese capital, Valletta. Infantry consolidated their positions and dug trenches, while various sizes of anti-aircraft guns launched shells into the air. As for the three existing airfields in Hal Far, Luqa, and Ta' Qali, except for Ta' Qali being preserved, the other two were voluntarily abandoned by the British. Before withdrawal, the British destroyed most of the airport facilities, including the runways, and laid some landmines!
In this situation, two-thirds of the soldiers from the 1st Italian Paratrooper Regiment encountered little resistance upon landing. They quickly occupied two abandoned airfields, and as green flares rose slowly into the sky, the "good news" from the frontlines quickly ignited excitement at the Italian command headquarters still stationed in Palermo.
Bound by the strange title of "tactical advisor," Logan, accustomed to leading from the front, could only stay at the rear command post and wait for news. As the landing operation began, the frontline command headquarters finally began to resemble a war room, with staff officers and communication personnel looking serious and moving briskly, occasionally colliding with each other as they hurried along.
"General Logan, there's no need to worry. Our paratroopers are brave, and they are fully capable of defeating those British who have lost confidence! We only need our main forces to land, and the outcome of the battle will be beyond doubt!" General Sapienza, a stout man, brought a cup of fragrant tea. Logan had been in Italy for less than half a month, and yet the Italians seemed to have figured out all his preferences. Here they were, serving authentic Tie Guan Yin tea, without milk and sugar.
Logan took the teacup, and the familiar fragrance slightly eased his nerves. Apart from the few old faces in the room, there was also General Ubaldo Soldi, who had flown from Rome early that morning to oversee the battle, the Deputy Minister of the Italian Army, and hawkish military leaders championing the offensive slogan.
"Their courage is beyond doubt. That's why I sincerely hope they can celebrate their first battle victory and that this elite force can thrive in the days to come." Regardless of how many in the room understood, Logan expressed his opinion quickly in German.
"Yes, we have seen the astonishing effectiveness of the German airborne troops. Our wise leader has decided to establish an Italian paratrooper force in 15 months!" General Soldi threw out a massive plan, but when Mussolini made this decision, he probably hadn't considered the manpower, material resources, and technical support required to establish a division-sized paratrooper force.
In support of Mussolini's wise decision, Italian generals who had previously harbored no goodwill towards paratroopers adopted their usual opportunistic stance and expressed their support. Some even proposed some irrelevant suggestions.
"Report! There's news from the front!" The appearance of Colonel Morimondo, the chief of staff, finally brought a slight change to the atmosphere in the conference room: an anticipated excitement.
General Sapienza lit a cigar. "Colonel, tell everyone what good news has come from the front!"
Colonel Morimondo opened his brand-new dark green telegram folder. "This one is from the battleship Duilio: our fleet has conducted a fierce one-hour bombardment on the British-held Valletta port. Currently, there is no return fire from the port, and naval infantry are boarding landing craft and heading towards the beach!"
"As expected of the navy!" General Sapienza said cheerfully, clearly addressing Logan and General Soldi.
As an army general, Soldi only picked up his coffee cup and took a small sip.
Sapienza had sharp eyes. He quickly asked his chief of staff, "Hasn't the fleet transporting the army landing force arrived at the designated area yet?" No hesitation.
Colonel Morimondo, tall and with a mustache, replied, "There's still no news for now. It may be that the strong winds at sea have slightly delayed their journey, or they may have already launched an attack on the landing area and haven't had time to report to us!"
Sapienza nodded satisfactorily. "Then let's wait and see!"
Logan had nothing to say about the coordination between the Italian army, navy, and air force. The first wave of paratroopers had landed, while the naval infantry had only just departed from the coastal fleet. As for the four Italian infantry battalions and one light artillery battalion scheduled to land in the first wave, they were still on their way across the sea!
After about twenty minutes, Colonel Morimondo appeared again with his dark green telegram folder. "Report, a telegram from the army landing force!"
"Read it!" General Sapienza elegantly blew a smoke ring.
The colonel read slowly, "The leading infantry battalion has landed on Beach No. 3 north of Valletta and encountered no resistance from the British!"
"Very good, gentlemen. I told you, the British have already lost confidence! Of course, this is also thanks to the splendid battles fought by our German allies! General Logan, may I ask how long your country plans to completely crush Britain?" Sapienza turned to the young German Air Force Major.
Logan didn't have the authority to release official information, so he responded vaguely, "It's hard to say. Perhaps the British government will surrender tomorrow, or maybe they will withdraw to Canada to continue the fight! However, we believe that if the Mediterranean and African theaters can end quickly, the confidence of the British will be greatly shaken!"
Soldi took out an exquisite silver cigarette case from his pocket. Pausing for a moment, he said, "Before Christmas, we will eliminate the British military presence in the Mediterranean and Africa, and perhaps... even in Greece! The war will end before spring 1941, which also aligns with the strategic interests of our two countries!"
The optimistic signal made every Italian present hold their heads high—if they could control the vast Mediterranean and resource-rich Africa, the achievements of the Germans occupying most of Europe and Britain would be insignificant.
Sapienza stood up happily. "Gentlemen, I propose that we enjoy today's delicious lunch together in anticipation of the upcoming victory!"
Compared to the hard food in the trenches, the abundance of food on the banquet table was astonishing. But this was not a working lunch; it was a pre-prepared celebration feast!
During lunch, not a single staff officer or communication officer came to disturb them, which even made Logan doubt his judgment for a moment. However, as the generals finished their desserts and left the room contentedly, Colonel Morimondo stood at the door with his dark green telegram folder, his face not looking too good.
Sapienza walked over, and the two whispered in Italian. Though Logan couldn't understand, from their expressions, he guessed that something bad had happened.
Soon after, Sapienza reported the situation to Soldi and the other generals. When it was finally Logan's turn, he awkwardly said, "General Logan, if you'd like, you can go to your hotel room for a nap. All the Italian paratroopers have been transported to Malta, and you can just wait here... for news of our victory!"
It wasn't uncommon for Italians to save face, so Logan shrugged, "No need for a nap. Since victory is imminent, General, perhaps you'd be willing to assign me a driver and guide. I'd like to take a look around!"
"No problem!" Sapienza quickly agreed.
"Let's go, buddy!" Logan turned to his adjutant, August, and said, "Since our Italian allies don't want us to see their anxiety and frustration, let's go outside for some fresh air!"
"Alright, to be honest, I don't like the atmosphere here either!" August whispered, "Their paratroopers seem to have taken a beating, and the landing forces are in bad shape!"
Logan smiled, a hint of wryness in it.
Despite the constant roar of Italian combat planes flying overhead, the ancient buildings on the island of Sicily still bathed quietly in the sunlight. The beautiful harbor remained unchanged due to the war, and children still played happily on the streets of the town. Among the group of boys chasing after a soccer ball, some might become dazzling Sicilian football stars like Anastasi, Freno, and Skilachi in the future.
To Logan, the Italians were okay at playing football. But when it came to fighting, their performance was quite poor.
As night approached, Logan returned to the chaotic Italian frontline command post. Even before entering the operations command room, he could already hear General Soldi's roar. If it could make this outwardly gentle leader so angry, then the situation was probably very bad.
"It seems they're talking about... Valletta. The Italian attack on Valletta has suffered continuous setbacks, with heavy losses!" August, who spoke some Italian, saved Logan the trouble of having to bring a translator.
"Valletta, Valletta. If I'm not mistaken, that fortress-like city has many stories in history, wasn't there some kind of knightly order?"
"The Order of Saint John. They successfully resisted the Ottoman's great siege. The previous Valletta was destroyed, and the current one was rebuilt in the 16th century, famous for its elaborate defenses!" August explained with his relatively rich historical knowledge.
"It seems this battle is going to take some time!" Logan lit a cigarette for himself. He didn't know the situation of Colonel Tony and his Italian paratroopers, but night battles were full of opportunities and risks.