REDUX: Place In The Sun: What If Italy Joined The Central Powers?

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

With all the talk of American intervention being horrible for immigrants, I have an amusing image for you: Propagnda claiming that the Catholic Church is working hand in hand with the Italian government to destroy the American people. It’s utterly rediculous to anyone who knows even slightly about the situation but by god, it will still be made.

If America does join the Entente, we’ll see a lot of that for sure. Doubly funny because the Italian government at this point was barely in speaking terms WITH the Church- most of the men behind the unification of Italy, as I understand it, were Freemasons. I don’t even think the two had worked out an arrangement for Vatican City yet.

Wow. And here we thought it couldn't be done: Our esteemed author made us readers side with Cadorna without needing ASBs.
He's probably going to write a realistic successful Sealion TL next 😏.

Haha- high praise indeed!
I wrote a 1943 Sealion scenario in the eighth or ninth grade, maybe I’ll dust that up and put it in the Test Thread…

 

[Gabingston]

If America does join the Entente, we’ll see a lot of that for sure. Doubly funny because the Italian government at this point was barely in speaking terms WITH the Church- most of the men behind the unification of Italy, as I understand it, were Freemasons. I don’t even think the two had worked out an arrangement for Vatican City yet.

Hey, no one said propaganda had to be based in reality.

 

[Knightmare]

Wow. And here we thought it couldn't be done: Our esteemed author made us readers side with Cadorna without needing ASBs.
He's probably going to write a realistic successful Sealion TL next 😏.

Old saying about broke clocks and all that.

This is stuff that takes a day at least now, let alone back then with telegraphs and everything, to reorientate.

 

[lukedalton]

Would like to seconde @lukedalton here:

Cadorna is far from 'unreasonable' here given the alraeyd mentioned task of stopping aan almost already rumbling attack of this scale.​

If ... Falkenhayn would have acted as describeb actually he would have to be called 'unreasonable' in depriving Cadorna of one - given the seffperceived (ony ?) german 'superiority' - important means to bring his attack home.​

yeah, honestly a lot of the analysis seem a postwar one that push the narrative that if only the moronic allies had done as we say it, the war will have ended much sooner so it's all their fault. That's going with the mentioned 'not great relations' between the former wartime allies and the general perception of the German brass regarding his counterpart is probably the normal one in the german empire at the time.
Same regarding the Alpenkorps, he probably give the commander...a loooot of leeway regarding Cadorna's order

 

[Skulduggery]

-The earliest Austria-Hungary could possibly start to fall apart is 1927, when the Compromise with Hungary comes up for review (by which point both FJ and Karl will be dead). A lot will need to go wrong before then, but it's definitely within the realm of possibility. As for the Ottomans, I can actually see them doing quite well if they have a generation without the rest of Europe breathing down their necks. A lot depends on how much of Arabia and Mesopotamia the British can take before signing a peace with Germany- but it's worth noting that the Empire survived for several years after making peace with the Entente. So "killing off" is unlikely, but "reducing in size and power to a Turkish core" is definitely possible.

With almost two years less war, I think A-H is going to be surprisingly stable. One of the major factors why the empire became so unstable, and the minorities so restless, is because the Austrian generals started to create an iron grip on the wartime goverment, and most of them had a very suspicious opinion of the ethnic minorities. Theyw ere viewed as potential rebels, despite having shown essentially nothing but loyalty to the Empire for ages by now. This meant that they started having minorities arrested for the most minor of things, often on nothing more than made up or imagined crimes. It was this that irreparably damaged the trust between subjects and government, and having 2 years less of that might very well be enough to salvage the situation (although I imagine it would still cause some cracks that need repairing post-war).

 

[lukedalton]

With almost two years less war, I think A-H is going to be surprisingly stable. One of the major factors why the empire became so unstable, and the minorities so restless, is because the Austrian generals started to create an iron grip on the wartime goverment, and most of them had a very suspicious opinion of the ethnic minorities. Theyw ere viewed as potential rebels, despite having shown essentially nothing but loyalty to the Empire for ages by now. This meant that they started having minorities arrested for the most minor of things, often on nothing more than made up or imagined crimes. It was this that irreparably damaged the trust between subjects and government, and having 2 years less of that might very well be enough to salvage the situation (although I imagine it would still cause some cracks that need repairing post-war).

Two years less of war, give A-H a serious chance to survive, not an assurance; they had already internal tension with restless Hungary and the rising nationalism of Croats and Czech and a structure more akin to the 19th than to a modern state. A much shorter war give the possibility to reform seriously the state but it will be neither quiet or easy and frankly with the current leadership a very uphill effort

 

[Kylia]

Austria Hungary's 'doomed' status is grossly overstated though.

 

[lukedalton]

Austria Hungary's 'doomed' status is grossly overstated though.

As her capacity to survive

 

[Skulduggery]

As her capacity to survive

I disagree, I think the majority of people operate under a perspective that is unfairly scewed towards negativity when it comes to A-H. On the eve of war, Austria-Hungary was a stable nation. It was a major power, with an up-and-coming industry on track to seriously rival the other great powers, and a strong army (Seriously, as often as people joke about their failures in Serbia, not many nations could've fought a 3-4 front war for 4 years the way A-H did)

Their collapse after WW1 has led many people to view said collapse as an inevitability, when it was anything but. As I mentioned earlier, one of the biggest contributors to the ethnic tensions that tore the nation apart in the end was the fact that ethnic Austrians dominated the military high command, and had a somewhat outdated viewpoint towards their non-austrian subjects. Thus, they started treating them as seditionists with little to no evidence, and created actual sedition in the process. Faith in the state was only truly lost somewhere along the year 1917, some say even only in 1918 when the fronts actually started to collapse. Before the war, there was very little talk about seccession from the ethnic minorities. Even most nationalist polititians didn't wish for independent states, but mostly for a better status within the Empire. Hardliners pushed for a Slavic kingdom within the Empire to equal Hungary and Austria, and that opinion gained traction pretty easily, but even those hardliners didn't necessarily wish to leave to create their own country. People liked the Habsburg Empire, which was also helped strongly by the man in charge, Franz Joseph. He was a father figure to the empire, and people from all ethnicities looked up to the man. A collapse of A-H after a victorious war that lasted two years shorter than OTL is, in my opinion, highly unlikely.

Of course it's not perfect, there are cracks, and the war will expose some and create new ones (as I mentioned, 2.5 years is still enough for Austrian high-command to damage relations with the minorities), but those cracks can be mended. Austria-Hungary is not paradise, of course not, but it is a far far cry away from the "Prison of Nations" that Brittish journalists (and slavic nationalists after the collapse) called it.

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

Chapter XVII​

The Dancing Fleets​

The Second Battle of Menton began on February 11 with a barrage meant to last four days. If the First was remembered as a slog, a question of weight and will (mostly the lack thereof on both sides), the Second soon became a complex affair on land and at sea. It was not what the Germans had hoped for- a coordinated strike to distract the French on the first day of Verdun- but beneath all the intrigue and chaos la the seeds of Italian victory, even if there was no triumphal parade through Nice as Luigi Cadorna had hoped.

As at Bardonnechia, the French had weathered the worst of the bombardment in mountain dugouts- the Italians had, in effect, wasted hundreds of thousands of shells. When Italy's First Army went over the top just after dawn, French machine-gunners in concealed forward positions sprayed them with lead while guns atop mountains and ridges blasted them from below. Shrapnel and rock flew everywhere, and the "glorious charge" of which Cadorna had dreamt turned into a crawl before noon. Nor was progress any better to the north- the defenders of Sospel, eight miles inland, held out against two and a half times as many Italians.

Planning for the battle had forced Cadorna to do something quite alien to him: he was going to have to cooperate with the Navy. Cadorna shared the typical officer's disdain for the men whose war seemed to consist of sitting in ports and dropping the occasional depth charge on an unlucky British or French submarine (and they in turn viewed him as a landlubber with no better ideas than bashing his head against the same mountain in the hopes it would crumble). More serious than petty prejudices was that Cadorna didn't understand the psychological scarring which lingered even four months after the Battle of the Ligurian Sea. Admiral di Revel was convinced that the Regia Marina had escaped destruction by the narrowest margin. Any future confrontation had to be in home waters where the Italians knew every mine and escape route. There was also the political factor. Cadorna could throw fifty thousand men against the French and leave ten thousand behind and no one batted an eye back home, but di Revel had to protect his fleet. Losing more prestigious capital ships would tarnish the honour of the Navy and the nation- and di Revel knew exactly who the scapegoat would be, assuming he even survived. Prime Minister Sonnino, forced into a coalition government with people to whom he would never have spoken in better times just to keep the country together, had made clear to di Revel on his appointment that no matter what, the embarrasment of the Ligurian Sea could never happen again.

Di Revel would sooner have sailed up the mouth of the Thames than the waters around Nice- but that was just what Cadorna wanted him to do.

Luigi Cadorna may have been stubborn and uncreative, but he was no idiot. If the French could lay waste to Cagliari unopposed, they could do the same for the coastline on the Franco-Italian border. Blowing up peaceful Sardinian civilians had been bad enough, but what if those guns turned on his men? All of Cadorna's planning could be wasted, all his aspirations crushed, if the French Navy showed up off the coast and pounded his position to bits. Striking further north, out of range of those guns, was of course one option, but the failed push at Bardonnechia had led the enemy to concentrate his defences there. The only other mountain pass with an adequate road was just east of Mont Blanc near the Swiss border, but there was nothing worth attacking there. Italian intelligence also suggested that the French troops in the far south remained in an offensive position after their push last autumn- striking might break their combat power. So it had to be Menton, and Di Revel would have to play his part.

Ultimately, it was Defence Minister Vittorio Zupelli who broke the deadlock between the two in a late-night session in his office in Rome. Zupelli impressed on Cadorna just how much of a political disaster it would be to lose more capital ships. Di Revel was motivated, he explained, not by cowardice or fear that defeat might wreck his career, but that defeat would humiliate the Motherland. To di Revel, Zupelli said three things. The first was that unlike the Battle of the Ligurian Sea, this time the Italians would be choosing the time and place of the offensive. Unlike that engagement, they would go in prepared and catch the French off-guard. Tactical surprise would make up for the disadvantage of operating in the enemy's home waters. Zupelli then reminded the Admiral that his role left him with one leg in the military world, and the other in politics. Di Revel was right to fear the political consequences of another defeat, but what about all he stood to gain? After attacking the French on the coast, the Italian fleet could sail on to Corsica or anywhere on the south coast of France. Bombarding Ajaccio or Marsailles would atone for the humiliation of Cagliari. There was also the question of future funding. The branch performed best in the war- especially as the public and parliamentarians were concerned- would get the best slice of the defence budget. Zupelli did not set those allocations (though as a Senator he had a vote separate from his role as Defence Minister), but worked to ensure the most he could. For all the losses and lack of progress, the Army was fighting hard and receiving public attention- if the Navy did not do likewise, it would become the junior branch.

Nothing motivates sailors like fear of being in the shade of the "landlubbers".

As January turned into February, the Italian Army and Navy staffs developed a plan. The same Italian fleet that had fought at the Ligurian Sea would leave Naples four days before the First Army went over the top- besides having experience fighting the French, these men were all eager to get back at the enemy. "Tripwire" squadrons would patrol the strait between Marsala and Cagliari, while the naval attache to Vienna would ask the Austro-Hungarian Navy to step up patrols south of the Adriatic. If the British sortied from Malta, the fleet would rush to defend the home ports and Cadorna would have to abort the offensive. This wasn't something the general cared for, but di Revel was adamant. The worst possible scenario was for the French Mediterranean fleet to engage the bulk of the Regia Marina while the British smashed Sicily to bits. No one would care that the fleet had been off protecting the Army- the public, foreign and domestic, would see it as yet another Italian failure on the waves.

Assuming all was clear, the fleet would travel as close to the shore as possible, as a shortcut through the Ligurian Sea would invite a French response. Hovering off the coast of Nice, they would not attempt to bombard the city but to get between the French port and the frontline. This was not about sinking the enemy, smashing Nice, or winning glory- all that mattered was keeping the troops safe from seaborne bombardment. If- and di Revel stressed this- if neither the French nor British had sortied after several days, then his fleet could bombard enemy positions from a safe distance. That was not, however, something on which Cadorna was to count.

An imperfect plan, but it was the one implemented on February 11, 1916.

Paul Choprecat, meanwhile, was chomping at the bit. He shared his opposite number's humiliation at not having secured victory, as well as his fear of a devastating enemy raid. To that end, the French Mediterranean Fleet had moved its headquarters to Marsailles after the Battle of the Ligurian Sea. It was there that Choprecat got wind that the Italians were pounding Menton. Unlike di Revel, Choprecat needed no coaxing to get after the enemy- after a brief exchange of telegrams with Paris, he raised anchor on the 13th, two days after the Italians set sail. What better way to redeem himself than to blast the foe in their dugouts, before they could even climb over the top, unable even to shoot back?

The French Mediterranean Fleet arrived off the coast at 1750 hours on the 13th- the sun was going down in the west, bathing the Italians in red light and blinding their gunners. All the better. At Choprecat's command, the battleship Verginaud fired two twelve-inch shells from its main armament, followed by thirty lesser guns. When the rest of the fleet opened up, it was nothing short of a massacre. Italian intelligence hadn't seen the enemy fleet leave port and their men were thus unprepared. No one understood why they were taking fire until it was too late. Heavier shells than anything found on the battlefield crashed on the hapless Italians, who lacked even the range to fire back. This gave the French artillery on land a respite, and they began blasting away. At 1813 hours, having gotten wind of the disaster, Cadorna telegraphed First Army staff. All men were to hunker down, and they were to pull everything mobile- artillery, supplies, etc- to the safety of the northeast, out of enemy range. A certain dark humor hung about this order- what did the officers in Turin think the men in the trenches were doing? Cadorna's great fear was that the bombardment would destroy the supply dumps, without which any offensive would be impossible. Where in God's name, he cried, was di Revel when you needed him? What good were those damned sailors anyhow?

None of this meant anything to the men in the trenches, under attack from something so much greater than themselves, with nothing to do but dig in, cling on, and pray.

At 1844 hours, their shell reserves exhausted, the French steamed away under cover of darkness. Choprecat was already pounding out a ship-to-shore telegram explaining to the Navy staff just how he had beaten the foe when another message came through: enemies on the horizon. He dashed to the bridge. Sure enough, a submarine was just audible on sonar, perhaps eight miles away, and it paid no heed to the French challenges. Choprecat had no way of knowing that this was the whole Italian fleet. For all he knew, he had merely stumbled on an Italian or German submarine hoping to sink a merchantman out of Nice- and that skipper was likely terrified at having come across the whole French fleet! Was it worth letting him go? The day's bombardment was no secret, while that fact the French Mediterranean Fleet patrolled between Nice and Marsailles was hardly "intelligence" to keep confidential. But then, if the submarine stayed in place long enough, it might ambush the fleet as it returned to the front, perhaps even drawing the whole Regia Marina with it. Dropping a few ashcans, Choprecat reasoned, was worth the effort.

He paid right into Italian hands. At the first explosion, the Italian skipper sank deep and darted away, scribbling the coordinates down as his sailors cranked the engines. He sent a wire to di Revel aboard the battleship Cavour- he had found the French. Di Revel now had his own choice to make. Pursue the enemy into their own port and catch them with their guns depleted after a day's shelling, or wait and catch them as they re-emerged for the front in a day or so? A more daring commander might have reasoned how few shells the French would have left, or how tired their men were compared to the Italians, who would surely never be foolish enough to strike in their home waters. Di Revel instead thought of Admiral Amedo's funeral where he had delivered the oratory, watched as the late man's wife wept over her husband's body, never to return to terra firma, thought of the headlines doing their best to cover up a catastrophe, of the long months hiding in Naples with the surviving sailors- and vowed that whatever else, he would not share his predecessor's death. His vessels lay in the French path back to the front, and the men needed a night's sleep before fighting. Thus was the stage set for another battle on the waves.

If the men of the Regia Marina slept poorly as the 13th became the 14th, the men of the Army had it worse. In only an hour, their position at the south of the line had fallen apart. Artillery batteries needed to tear up the French defences, supply dumps which would keep the men moving after the inevitable breakthrough, command and communication posts to keep everything coordinated- all were gone. So too were countless dugouts and trench lines, extracted with sweat and grit out of the Alpine rock, good positions blown to bits. So too were all the men who had huddled inside, dreaming of Naples or Turin or Sicily. For all the damage, things could have been far worse. French intelligence had been lacking. Choprecat's gunnery officers had known where the Italians were, but could only guess as to the location of specific places such as the aforementioned positions. Had Choceprat had more than a few days warning, his subordinates could have compiled a comprehensive list of targets. Destroying them all would have wrecked the Italian offensive rather than hampering it.

February 14th, 1916 would prove the "Glorious Day" of the Italian military. What came to be known as the "St. Valentine's Day Push" achieved little in military terms but showed the world that Italy was capable of winning battles against the French- and that gave Sonnino the political wind at his back to get through the last of the Cold Winter and into the spring where victory had to await.

Though he never admitted as much, it also meant that when Erich von Falkenhayn turned on his mincing machine a week later, the French could only feed in so many bodies, condemning Verdun to a slow death, and turning victory in the West from a notion into a possibility.

 

[weasel_airlift]

I like the story, though it's a bit early for sonar, depth charges and probably the radio telephone.

Also: Boo, cliffhanger.

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

I like the story, though it's a bit early for sonar, depth charges and probably the radio telephone.

Also: Boo, cliffhanger.

I can't claim any great knowledge of naval history, but I was under the impression these technologies existed- at least in rudimentary form- during WWI.
The next chapter is already in the works!

 

[weasel_airlift]

I can't claim any great knowledge of naval history, but I was under the impression these technologies existed- at least in rudimentary form- during WWI.
The next chapter is already in the works!

Hydrophones were first tested (By the French) in April, 1916. Early ones would probably be useless for a fleet, they had issues with background noise. As I recall, users of early hydrophones had to shut down engines and drift to listen well.

Depth Charges were also first tested in 1916, though by the RN. I doubt the French navy would have them. There were plenty of experiments with timed explosives, or with lanyards attached to them, which were much less effective. The French might well have those.

Radio telephony existed I believe, but very much in it's infancy. They would absolutely have wireless, using Morse code.

 

[lukedalton]

I can't claim any great knowledge of naval history, but I was under the impression these technologies existed- at least in rudimentary form- during WWI.
The next chapter is already in the works!

By wiki:

Deep charges were available for the British by January 1916, due to also the Med being a fighting ground and the French being occupied with Regia Marina it's possible that developement is a little quicker (a couple of months) and that some have been shared with Marine National but it's probable that this will have been the first time or second time they used them in combat ITTL.

Regarding sonar, well the french in 1915 researched method to activerly detect submarine using electrostatic transducer, again the more problematic situation can prompt Marine Nationale to get some system operative, at least as testbed for the future. The British instead had put in service the Fessden Oscillator in 1915 and due to the changed situation ITTL can have shared some with the French...again for the time they very novel system

Regarding Hydrophones their first kill was on April 1916 so again some accelerated developement and some system can be available to MN in February but yes they have that limitation

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

Hydrophones were first tested (By the French) in April, 1916. Early ones would probably be useless for a fleet, they had issues with background noise. As I recall, users of early hydrophones had to shut down engines and drift to listen well.

Depth Charges were also first tested in 1916, though by the RN. I doubt the French navy would have them. There were plenty of experiments with timed explosives, or with lanyards attached to them, which were much less effective. The French might well have those.

Radio telephony existed I believe, but very much in it's infancy. They would absolutely have wireless, using Morse code.

By wiki:

Deep charges were available for the British by January 1916, due to also the Med being a fighting ground and the French being occupied with Regia Marina it's possible that developement is a little quicker (a couple of months) and that some have been shared with Marine National but it's probable that this will have been the first time or second time they used them in combat ITTL.

Regarding sonar, well the french in 1915 researched method to activerly detect submarine using electrostatic transducer, again the more problematic situation can prompt Marine Nationale to get some system operative, at least as testbed for the future. The British instead had put in service the Fessden Oscillator in 1915 and due to the changed situation ITTL can have shared some with the French...again for the time they very novel system

Regarding Hydrophones their first kill was on April 1916 so again some accelerated developement and some system can be available to MN in February but yes they have that limitation

Thank you both- I'll have to go back and make a few changes.

 

[pls don't ban me]

BTW, i gotta ask.
is Balbo somewhere to be seen?
he should be in the army currently and in OTL gained two silver and one bronze medals to Valor

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

BTW, i gotta ask.
is Balbo somewhere to be seen?
he should be in the army currently and in OTL gained two silver and one bronze medals to Valor

Balbo is an infantry officer stationed near Bardonnechia, where he gained a Silver Valor medal for dragging his wounded captain away under heavy fire.

 

[MonarchistCanuck]

And here I thought I wouldn't find a CP Victory TL as well thought out and written as To the Victor, Go the Spoils but I stand corrected. Consider me a fan, hope to see more!

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

And here I thought I wouldn't find a CP Victory TL as well thought out and written as To the Victor, Go the Spoils but I stand corrected. Consider me a fan, hope to see more!

Thank you! To the Victor Go the Spoils is one of the best timelines on this site, so it's an honour that people see this in the same bracket.
Update- a larger one- coming soon on the naval showdown between France and Italy.

 

[Kaiser Wilhelm the Tenth]

Chapter XVIII​

The Glorious Day​

February 14, 1916, was not a guaranteed Italian victory. The one thing, di Revel admitted after the war, which ensured victory was not better leadership or training, nor fleet size- the French enjoyed an eleven to four superiority in capital ships- but that the Regia Marina understood what it was getting into. Di Revel had tracked the French Mediterranean Fleet from the shore of Menton, where it had spent the previous day blasting the Italian soldiers going over the top, back to Marseilles. No reinforcements had joined the enemy since the inconclusive Battle of the Ligurian Sea back in December, giving di Revel an excellent idea of the enemy's composition. Though he had not been at that battle, he had studied in detail and formed a tactical picture of his foe, Admiral Paul Choceprat.

That night, di Revel put his fleet into position and waited. Geography was on his side- the French would be approaching from the west, into the rising sun, meaning they would be blind in the early morning while the Italians could see clearly- unless, of course, they held off until dusk. It was an open question just how long di Revel's fleet could stay out here. More than a few days and they would start to run out of coal and rations, forcing them to return to port. Di Revel had discussed this with the Italian Admiralty, who agreed that if the French did not show after two weeks, they would have to return. The battle would have taken on a life of its own by that point, and Choceprat would be able to do far less damage than when he'd struck the day before. Cadorna was only informed of this plan after it was agreed on- his opinion was sincere and unflattering but there was little he could do. The Regia Marina couldn't keep the bulk of its combat power on alert far from the main cities forever- they still had a country to protect.

Di Revel understood that Choceprat had to reach Menton, while his fleet did not have to move at all. Put simply: the French needed to win, while all the Italians had to do was survive. Di Revel thus entered the coming battle with a simple plan- block the foe from advancing- while Choceprat never quite seemed to know exactly what he was supposed to do. The gulf in leadership made up for the gulf in metal.

Of course, as it does in every war, luck played its part- more than Italian mythology after the fact cared to admit, less than the French were willing to mention.

The French admiral had let the enemy submarine go the previous night- tracking it in the dark was too dangerous for too little return. For one vessel to attack his whole fleet would be suicide, and there was no reason to suspect it was reporting his position back to the main enemy fleet. After all, the Mediterranean was crawling with Central Powers submarines, most of which picked off merchantmen and their escorts rather than trying to sink combat vessels. Choceprat assumed the 14th would be just like the 13th- leave Marsailles, keep an eye out for the enemy, blast their positions at Menton, home for dinner. The men were on high alert of course, but after the previous day's "shooting chickens in the coop", they had no reason to suspect danger. Having spent the night reloading shells and raising anchor before dawn, they were tired and everyone's reactions were just a little slower. These were French waters, the Italians were nowhere to be seen, and the last time they had traded shots, the enemy had run back to Naples. Only the petty officers angling for promotion could bring themselves to worry here!

Everyone would soon find out that the worriers were on to something.

At 0723 hours, a sailor aboard the destroyer Fronde noticed a strange shadow in the water and called his superior over. The petty officer had spent time on anti-submarine duty guarding troop transports and knew something about how to track the underwater monsters. Sure enough, this was one of the damned things. He sounded a general alarm and had the Fronde's captain contact Admiral Choceprat- the enemy submarine was in the area. It did little good though. No sooner had the word gone out than the Italian skipper, assuming he had been detected, fired a into the Fronde's starboard. The explosion punched through her hull and she began capsizing almost immediately. As her sister destroyers threw life rafts into the cold Mediterranean (even in February, the sea was too warm for hypothermia to kill anyone- in the North Sea, falling in would be a death sentence), the submarine surged forward, two torpedoes left.

No one could ever accuse Captain Ruggerio Kimbaolo of timidity. The only son of a Neapolitan peasant family, he had been expelled from a Catholic Seminary and subsequently disowned by his family. Desperate to rebuild his life, Kimbaolo joined the Regia Marina just before the misadventure in Ethiopia and transferred to the submarine branch as the new vessels came online, taking command of one after his commanding officer retired with a bleeding internal ulcer. All throughout, he had dealt with damned fools from proper Navy families, men who could trace their lineage for hundreds of years before the Risorgimento, to whom he was nothing but a jumped-up farmer. None of them, however noble, had volunteered to chase the damned French fleet down to keep them from pounding his fellow peasant soldiers to death. Kimbaolo was here, they were not, and he was damned if he'd let the French go.

The battleship Bretagne had been ordered two years before the outbreak of war as part of a class of three ships designed to compete with Germany's dreadnought programme. Construction had been accelerated after the fighting began even though there was no immediate prospect of a great naval battle with the High Seas Fleet. Italian entry into the war changed things and the Bretagne was earmarked for service in the Mediterranean. It was never commissioned in a ceremony- once the finishing touches were complete, the battleship sailed to Marseilles and the Admiralty signed the last bits of paperwork. There was a war on and service came first. As the largest vessel in the Mediterranean Fleet, she became its flagship. Choceprat was confident she would put fear into enemy hearts and seems to have genuinely believed she would be too big for the Italians to sink, especially with the Comte di Cavour no more.

Wiser men might have steered clear of the new flagship- but that was not how Captain Kimbaolo had earned his title. If the French had a new dreadnought flagship, he was going to do his damndest to send it to the bottom even with only one torpedo. Descending several hundred feet, he surged underneath the destroyers and cruisers as their officers searched for him, like a shark circling a lifeboat. Kimbaolo was leaving everything to chance. His submarine lacked any armament except a small machine gun (useless against armoured vessels even when not submerged), and if he came under attack, he would have to waste his last torpedo to get away. Nor could Kimbaolo be sure that the small torpedo would even penetrate the dreadnought's armour. It was too late to worry now, though, with the grey hulks swimming above him. Surfacing without having either killed the Bretagne or slipping away would have been suicide. So he dodged all the anti-submarine measures the French could throw at him, aware that one blunder would turn him and his men into fish food.

Kimbaolo took his last shot at 0735 hours at near point-blank range. The torpedo shot out of its tube and smashed into the bottom of the Bretagne. It was a direct hit on the starboard, even if it could have been better centred- but the battleship was just too damned big. Bretagne staggered as her damage control parties scrambled to their stations and well-trained destroyer crews closed wagons around her, like scared lion cubs rushing to defend their mother. Kimbaolo had taken his shot, but could not stick around to fire his last torpedo. Already, the French were deploying their anti-submarine measures and Bretagne was taking evasive action. A third shot would be a waste, so Kimbaolo slipped off to the east as far as his engines could take him. The admiral would revel in this.

Officers aboard the Bretagne informed Choceprat that the ship was going to survive. She was not invincible, and a more modern torpedo, better placed, might have sunk her, but this blow was too small and not properly centred. The propeller, furnace, and steerage were all intact, and damage control had performed with textbook speed. Bretagne would need to spend time in the drydock, but it was going to survive- and, they admitted, could wait until the end of this mission, provided the main Italian fleet did not attack. Choceprat was understandably furious at himself. He had just escaped death by what felt like the narrowest margin, but now had to contend with the consequences of failure. Had he just sunk that damned submarine last night, France's beautiful dreadnought would not have been harmed! The Battle of the Ligurian Sea had done little for his standing in the Admiralty. Almost losing a brand-new dreadnought would surely wreck his career- unless he could pull victory from defeat.

Choceprat made clear that Bretagne "was made for fighting and service, not for cowardice". If she could stay afloat then she would play her due part in punishing the Italians for their perfidy. The destroyers would remain circled around her, and the Mediterranean Fleet would go on to blast the enemy at Menton. Onwards the French fleet sailed- right into a trap. Admiral di Revel was waiting for him twelve nautical miles southeast of Cannes. The Italian admiral had not wanted to come out and fight, but the time was now. Kimbaolo had led the enemy to him- his name would be going in the after action report- and now it was time to show the world that the Regina Marina could stand toe to toe with one of the five greatest fleets in the world. Italy's honour- and di Revel's survival- depended on it.

Things had not begun well, yet Choceprat still had cause for optimism- namely, he outweighed the Italians. Voltaire had been lost at the Battle of the Ligurian Sea while the semi-dreadnought Diderot was escorting troop transports to and fro North Africa. That left the former flagship Admiral Courbet- still nothing to trifle with- along with four other semi-dreadnoughts and five obsolescent battleships from the turn of the century and the Bretagne. Only twelve destroyers protected the fleet- the remainder were out defending shipping, while the French had no submarines present. Yet capital ships had defined every battle in this war, just as they had since the invention of the ironclad five decades ago. That was all Choceprat needed to know.

The Italian battleships Dante Aligheri, Guillo Cesare, Leonardo da VInci, and Caio Duillo formed the bulk of di Revel's firepower. Surrounded by destroyer and light cruiser escorts, they formed a "V" shape, with the open ends pointing towards the enemy. With Comte di Cavour but a memory, di Revel had designated Dante as the new flagship and placed it on the "hinge" of the V. If Choceprat was foolish enough to strike into the middle of the fleet, he would take fire from two sides and risked encirclement. If he tried to slip around to the north, the southern wing of the V would swing around and pursue him, while the northern half engaged. Any French battleship foolish enough to break from the escorts, or one which was left behind, would be easy prey for the submarines. If all else failed, Italian speed would have to atone for whatever advantages the French held.

Choceprat suddenly wished he had taken Bretaqgne back to Marseilles but it was too late now. Pulling back wasn't an option. He still had a mission to complete, on which the whole Menton offensive hinged. Choceprat would have preferred a defensive battle fought behind the mine-chains and within range of the coast-guns of Marseilles over a straight fight in the open ocean, but even if he was able to break off and make it back home, a victory there would do little for the strategic picture. At best, he would have to wait another day to get out and bombard the enemy. At worst, the Italians would wait outside the port, where the mines would constrain his forces if he chose to sortie, neutralizing his fleet and risking the success of the offensive. Nor would Choceprat's honour allow him to back down. In the name of le bon Dieu, he was no coward!

Thus did the French admiral prepare to give battle: he was going to concentrate all his firepower on the Italian north and force di Revel to break away.

Despite being the flagship, Bretagne wasn't going to lead the charge. All her armaments were intact and she could defend against any surface attack, but the risk of submarine strikes remained- plus, a second strike on the starboard, no matter where, might cause her to take on enough water that her steering was affected. If the battle turned sour, that might prove fatal. Choceprat was not going to repeat Admiral Amedo's fatal mistake, especially not with an already-damaged ship. So the Bretagne would sit in the middle of the French column with its own destroyer escort, able to view events but remain as detached as possible.

It didn't take long for di Revel to recognise the French move and he sent the Leonardo da Vinci and Caio Duillo, with their escorts, chasing their rear. Italian ships were a mite faster than the French, who were of course taking fire from the Dante Aligheri and Guillo Cesare. Choprecat had not realised the enemy had two extra battleships to the south, but he was still not concerned. What chance did four battleships stand against eleven? All of a sudden, moving on to blast the Italian troops seemed like a waste. When would he get as good an opportunity to send so much of the Regia Marina to the bottom? Perhaps a victory of suitable magnitude might even scare Rome into making peace, and he, Admiral Paul Choceprat, would become another Napoleon? This could become a reverse-Trafalgar; French triumph on the waves against the coalition ranged against it! True, it was not what the mission called for, but with the Italian fleet sunk, there would be nothing to stop him blasting the attackers at Menton at will. The whole coast of Italy would be his to devastate.

This was the first French blunder which handed the day, against all the odds, to the Italians. Choceprat lost sight of the mission, and became inconsistent in his decision-making, while di Revel had one objective: not to lose.

At 0910 hours, Choceprat ordered the lead ship, Admiral Courbet, to wheel due south and cross the "T" on the Italians. With his rear ships holding their own against the Dante Aligheri and Guillo Cesare (shielded in part by destroyer escorts), he felt this was a risk worth taking. The Italian captains instantly recognised what the French were trying to do and closed the gap between the two vessels as fast as they could, to within a hundred yards. Side gunners on both battleships pounded away as hard as they could before the Admiral Courbet got too close, while the front gunners tensed, ready to blast for their lives.

Every battleship crew's nightmare was for the enemy to "cross the T"- that is, to run in front of them at a perpendicular angle. Doing so allowed the enemy to blast away with the side guns, while the crossed battleship could only respond with its front armament. Getting crossed by a fleet twice one's size could be a death sentence, but it was something the Italians were going to have to endure. The only saving grace was that, since the French were running between two battleships, they would have to take double fire (but then, they could hit twice as many targets).

Admiral Courbet went through first, trading fire with the two Italian battleships. She was armed with six twin twelve-inch guns and twenty-two five-inchers, along with smaller guns which couldn't pierce a battleship's armour. Barely two hundred yards away from each battleship, they fired at point-blank range. Neither side's gunners missed a shot. Every shot gave the enemy a chance to target the gun which had fired it. Explosions rocked all three ships, sending shards of metal and flesh flying every which way. Sea spray cleaned blood and oil off the deck like a giant mop. Damage-control parties rushed to their stations, closing emergency doors and doing all they could to keep hits from becoming breaches, and floods from capsizing the ship.

It was a good thing the Italians had moved so quickly because there was no room for a second battleship to slide in. Had the French ship behind Admiral Courbet- the semi dreadnought Mirabeau- gotten between her and one of the enemy vessels, it would have spared half the Admiral Courbet from enemy fire. As it was, the Admiral Courbet was taking a pounding while the Mirabeau and all the ships behind her sat impotent. After three minutes of both sides blazing away, the Admiral Courbet's captain, acting on his own initiative, moved forward. He would loop around to the south, behind the Guillo Cesare, and get "back in line". Even if the other three Italian battleships got away, this would doom the Guillo Cesare and win the day for France.

Bretagne was fourth in the French column, behind Mirabeau and the battleship Paris. Choceprat had no desire to take his wounded flagship into a point-blank battle, and had hoped that Admiral Courbet, with twice the firepower, could finish off the Italian dreadnoughts. Now he would have to rely on the older, weaker Mirabeau. The stronger Paris ought to have been in the lead, he realized, but it was too late now. There was no reason, though, that the two fresh battleships couldn't defeat the foe before Bretagne had to come under fire.

Choceprat had picked a poor time to reassure himself. The time between Admiral Courbet pulling out and Mirabeau entering was perhaps twenty seconds, and the Italians did not waste it. In perfect sync, their battleships performed a 90 degree rotation, such that Mirabeau would pass between them parallel rather than perpendicular. This not only shielded their respective fore and aft from future damage, it doubled their firepower. This meant exposing the Guillo Cesare's damaged aft to the Admiral Courbet's side guns once more as the French battleship looped around, while limiting the force with which the Italian battleship could reply, but her captain judged the price to be worth it. Now the Mirabeau would have to take as much as it dished out- except it was weaker than the Italian dreadnoughts to begin with. Mirabeau's captain began to panic, but it was too late for him to break off. Rather than slug it out as Admiral Courbet had done, he was going to race through and loop around, saving all his firepower for the Guillo Cesare's aft and letting Paris do the hard work.

Admiral di Revel had other plans.

The original idea of trapping the French in a "V" shape was broken beyond repair, as was the idea of chasing them away. Leonardo da Vinci and Caio Duillo had thus played little role in the battle, leaving their sister ships exhausted. That had to change if Italy was to win, or even survive. Both fired their engines, relying on the speed of a modern vessel. Leonardo da Vinci took the easier position- behind Guillo Cesare at a 90 degree angle. No longer could French battleships loop around the Guillo Cesare with double firepower- trying to do so would mean tangling with the dreadnought. It was too late to catch Admiral Courbet, but Mirabeau would have to fight its way out.

Mirabeau barely scratched the two Italian dreadnoughts, even though it took nowhere near the damage Admiral Courbet had. Her captain's heart sank when he saw Leonardo da Vinci pulling up alongside her. There was nowhere to run, so the only way out was to go through. It was every bit as bad as he had feared. Leonardo da Vinci was better armed and armoured than the Mirabeau, which had gained nothing from its move but for the fact that it now had to face only the Guillo Cesare's front armament. Whatever advantage this might have brought was not enough. At 0924 hours, a lucky shot from the Leonardo da Vinci's triple 12-inch gun pierced the armour of Mirabeau's engine room- twenty seconds later, one of the double guns fired two shells straight through the breach. A great ball of fire consumed Mirabeau's engine, slicing her in half and sending metal and bodies flying. Only seven men survived the explosion and enemy-filled waters, to be picked up by Italian destroyers.

Caio Duillo harmed the French even worse. Just as the Mirabeau was beginning to buckle under the pressure, she pulled up perpendicular to the other battleships, blocking Paris' exit. The French battleship was now trapped. Bretagne kept her from pulling out the way she had come, she was sandwiched between two enemy ships of comparable strength, and the Caio Duillo had just crossed the "T" on her with no intention of moving. Paris was a mighty ship but there was only so much she could do.

The only way out was to sink one of the battleships to the side, so she concentrated all her firepower on the Guillo Cesare to the north. Both were dreadnoughts, but Paris was not only newer, she was the product of a more advanced Navy with more budget than Italy could have dreamt of- to say nothing of the fact that she had not taken a scratch while Guillo Cesare had fought her sister ships. Quality and attrition played their part and, despite being surrounded on three sides and taking fearsome damage. Paris put enough firepower into the Guillo Cesare's side. The Guillo Cesare's damage control parties were overwhelmed- many had been killed in the very blasts they sought to protect from- and all her emergency doors couldn't keep her from taking on water. She began capsizing at 0930 and within twelve minutes lay beneath the waves. Given that she tilted towards the combat rather than away from it, the men had no safe place to swim to. Paris or Bretagne behind it would have crushed any destroyers foolish enough to come and pick up survivors.

Sinking the Guillo Cesare was not the end of Paris's problems. She now had to pivot 90 degrees and head due north, where the fleet could decide whether to go on to Menton or back to base, without exposing the damaged Bretagne to further enemy fire, to say nothing of how the battle had damaged her own steering, or the fact that while the battleship was turning, the Italians would get unopposed shots. There was nothing for it, though. As her captain had feared, explosions rocked the ship as she made the turn, which was slower and wider than it ought to have been- damage control officers explained that all the water she had taken was weighing her down. A lesser ship could never have survived the three-against-one battle, and they were beyond lucky to only have problems with steering and speed.

Admiral di Revel had seen the Guillo Cesare capsize. How many good men were now gone, how many millions of lira and years of hard work lay beneath the waves? Worst of all- how could the Italians hope to win, three battleships against ten? He understood just how high the stakes were. Both sides had committed the bulk of their strength to this battle- while France had the bulk of its surface fleet in the Mediterranean, Italy had nothing else. Only three battleships in the world now flew the Italian flag, and they were all in danger of being sunk. Given the disparity in strength, di Revel could claim an "honourable draw" and return to base. Such was the plan- until one of his eager subordinates changed everything.

In his haste to protect the flagship (and himself), Choceprat had surrounded Bretagne with all the destroyers, trusting in numerical superiority to keep the rest of the fleet safe. If anyone spotted a periscope, the destroyers could race to the site and take care of it, while no one expected destroyer escorts to defend against battleships. All this worked until the damaged Paris broke out to the north, with multiple Italian ships between her and the French fleet. Destroyer captains had their eyes trained on the gap between their smaller vessels and the capital ship, but a skilled submarine skipper could still slip in- and Ruggerio Kimbaolo intended to do nothing less.

Having fired the opening shot in this battle, Kimbaolo was determined to end it on his terms. Only one torpedo remained in his ship, but he would make it count. Kimbaolo had watched the battleships slug it out from a safe distance, knowing that to close in would mean getting chewed up by the French destroyers. With Paris wounded and out of the way, he had a chance to ambush her. If Kimbaolo failed- if the torpedo missed or didn't sink the Paris, or if the destroyers blocked his path or caught him after firing- if any of these things went wrong, he and his crew were dead. A lesser man might have taken that as a sign, but to Kimbaolo it was a challenge. He fired up the engines and charged like a knight rushing towards a hundred enemies.

Call it God, fate, fool luck, or just skill- and Kimbaolo hadn't believed in the first three for a very long time- something guided his torpedo where it needed to go as the destroyers circled overhead. Another explosion rocked Paris, disabling her already broken steering. The explosion itself did enough damage, but the force of the impact was just as bad. Emergency doors were torn to shreds, support beams fell from ceilings and catwalks and into the ocean, and water poured into corridors and storage rooms. Paris went from listing to capsizing, and it was not long before her captain ordered the crew to abandon ship. No lifeboats had been damaged and, unlike the Mirabeau or Guillo Cesare, many of her crew were able to get off. Others were killed in the explosion or by falling objects as the ship turned on its side, or were trapped and drowned after she went under.

One of the few advantages men in the trenches enjoyed- perhaps the only one- was immunity from drowning. Doubtless, many spent their last moments wishing they had been conscripted into the Army instead. His work done, Kimbaolo slipped away. Furious destroyer captains did everything they could to find the damned submarine, but they were preoccupied with picking up survivors. This was standard procedure, but in this case it proved to be the worst choice they could have made.

Now terrified, Choceprat ordered the fleet to turn around and head back to Marseilles. He had sunk an enemy battleship and lost two, while taking damage to his flagship. His fleet still outnumbered the Italians better than two to one (at least in the realm of capital ships), but today was not the day. Di Revel would need time to lick his wounds back in Naples, and after he had sailed home, the French could sortie once more and complete the mission. Choceprat understood he would have to answer some tough questions back home, such as why he had been so foolish as to try and defeat the enemy rather than passing them by, and that turning the battle around might save his reputation, but it was too late to care. His men were demoralized and confused while the Italians were at the top of their game. Choceprat needed to go home and retrain his fleet so that he- or, le bon Dieu forbid, his successor- could crush them later on. The defenders of Menton would have to look out for themselves. At 0941, the line of French battleships ground to a halt and began turning around, now with Bretagne at the back. This proved Choceprat's undoing and ensured he would never have to worry about what some committee back home thought.

The forward battleships stoked their engines, determined to leave before anything else could go wrong. Approximately seven hundred metres of water lay between each ship, each of which were between 145 and 165 metres in length. Bretagne was thus around four miles away from the lead vessel... and its battle wound made it hard for it to keep up. Once di Revel realized the French were leaving, his first reaction had been to let thank God. He had fought them to a draw, kept them from executing their mission, and losses could have been far worse. If the enemy wanted to leave, it was a sign the Italians ought to do likewise. Nothing would be worse than to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Yet, di Revel saw how, like the Paris, the Bretagne was isolated from the main fleet, while the destroyer escort which had shielded it thus far was coming in from the Paris' watery gravesite- that is, from the opposite angle to the Italians.

Di Revel had a few minutes to pull off a gamble every bit as daring as Kimbaolo.

Dante Aligheri, Caio Duilo, and Leonardo da Vinci, along with the destroyers and submarines, bore down on the Bretagne. Choceprat, already at the end of his tether, saw the enemy fleet bearing down on him and made the worst decision possible. Calling the rest of the battleships to engage once more would have restarted the battle, only with his ship in the centre and in the most risk. He thus decided to squeeze the engines just a little bit harder and run. If the Italians wanted to pursue him, they would have to come within range of eight other battleships... except, the math was not on his side. The Italian ships were faster to begin with, while Bretagne was moving slower because of the torpedo damage Kimbaolo had inflicted. Thirty-six twelve inch guns opened up on the stricken French flagship, while the Italian destroyers circled around to keep their French counterparts at bay. Despite their seeming advantage, the Italians were in just as much danger. If the other French ships wheeled around, they would have to break off and run. Sure enough, the captain of the next ship heard the noise and turned around, as did all the sister ships behind him.

The race was now on to kill Bretagne before it was too late. Both sides gave it everything they had, knowing that to fail was to die. Neither side could run or manoeuvre their fleet in a clever way. Weight of metal and rate of fire would decide the victor, and in a few moments one side would gain an unbreakable advantage- an advantage which had been theirs from the beginning, but which Admiral Choceprat had whittled away. He paid the ultimate price for his mistake. At 0957, a lucky Italian shot exploded onto the base of Bretagne's forward mast, which fell backwards, killing over a dozen sailors and cracking a hole on her deck. The Italian gunners- by now taking heavy fire from the other French ships- concentrated all their fire on the stricken deck, and it was not long before Bretagne began taking on water. Di Revel decided enough was enough and ordered the Italian ships to turn tail and flee back to Naples. If Bretagne survived, so be it, and if not, he had won an unexpected victory. Sticking around in the hopes of finding out might have cost him and his men everything.

It was the sinking of the Paris all over again. Most of the men aboard Bretagne survived, but Admiral Choceprat and the men on the bridge were never found. Bretagne, meant to be the pride and joy of the French Navy, in whom so many hopes had been placed during the long months of war, a symbol of French naval superiority over the hated Germans and perfidious Italians, was gone on day two of her first mission.

It was a sign of things to come for the French, and against all the odds, a glorious day for the Regia Marina.