Part 108, Chapter 1767
Chapter One Thousand Seven Hundred Sixty-Seven
22nd November 1966
Taranto, Italy
After weeks of waiting around in Laupheim, they finally had a clue about where Arbusto was. It came at a good time because everyone had been getting pissed about the various things that the Germans had done over the previous years that had been growing increasingly apparent. The AG44 had brought everything to head, not only was the ammunition for the 40mm under-barrel grenade launcher exactly the same as what got used in the M-79 and a similar variant of the M-10, but Simon Kravitz learned that its development had been pushed by General Hans von Mischner. The same General they had surrendered their weapons to at the end of the Sino-Korean War. It had been his own gear that had been reverse engineered and Kravitz had been furious. Then they had learned that there was also a vehicle mounted long-recoil automatic grenade launcher that the German Navy had already fielded and everyone else got pissed. Parker told them to get over it, the Krauts were wizards with it came to mechanical shit and they should have expected that a good idea would get pinched in a hurry.
No sooner than that had concluded than they learned that their KSK counterparts had been issued a light machinegun that used the same 6.5mm rifle cartridge as the G44 and would supplement the MG42/48 machineguns that had already been in use. It had turned out that the Bohemian weapons maker Brno had copied a Belgian prototype and the Belgians were livid, saying that this wasn’t the first time they had been ripped off by the Germans. FN had been developing the “Mini Mitrailleuse” with the hope of selling it on the export market after it had had been fielded by the Belgian Army. The Germans and their Bohemian friends were stepping on that with the MG64. Parker had said that he had already passed that information on to interested parties, meaning the CIA. If the Belgians couldn’t sell their machinegun throughout Europe, then Uncle Sam was more than happy to buy the license at whatever inflated price they wanted and gain a little bit of influence in a part of the world where they might not have had much before. If it could be adapted to use 6mm Springfield, then Ritchie would be perfectly happy to get one. The clunky derivative of the Browning Automatic Rifle which he had been carrying around for years left a lot to be desired. Still, that left the question as to why the Belgian Government and FN didn’t sue Brno the way that Mauser had famously sued Springfield over the 1903 Rifle decades earlier. Parker had told Ritchie to take a closer look at the MG64, he had and recognized that it was an updated, belt-fed version of the old BAR that he was familiar with. If FN sued Brno, there was a good chance they would in turn get sued by Browning. It was a can of worms that no one wanted to open.
Fortunately for everyone they have been ordered to pack up and board an airplane for Taranto before things boiled over, with the Italian Naval Base that was to be the forward staging point for the operation to nab Arbusto. Once again, they were left waiting as the powers that be wrangled over the timing of when to go ahead with the mission. They were going to conduct an operation on the edge of a warzone, everyone wanted all their ducks in a row before they went in to collect him. Where winter had been setting in when they had left Germany, it still felt like summer here in Italy.
For lack of anything better to do, Ritchie wandered off base to the local watering hole where he saw that “Roy” Benavidez had already set up shop at a table in front of tavern. He had it on good authority that that the First Sergeant’s real name was Raul, but no one called him that. Everyone assumed that because they were the only two soldiers with Mexican backgrounds in this outfit, they got along. The truth was that being California Mexican meant something vastly different from being Texas Mexican. That was an even wider gulf than that between a First Sergeant and a Specialist 2nd Class. Where Ritchie was fairly easygoing, Roy was stubborn and tough even by the standards of the Special Forces. Ritchie had caught word that a promotion to Specialist 1st Class was coming as soon as this operation was over, that would do nothing to close the gap.
That was why Ritchie was surprised when Roy waved him over.
“A beer for my friend” Roy called in Spanish to the waitress who smiled and disappeared into the building.
“She understood that?” Ritchie asked.
“There are quite a few differences” Roy said, “But Romance languages, you know.”
Ritchie wouldn’t have thought of that on his own. Roy was more of the talk louder until the foreigners understand sort, something that evidently worked in Italy this time.
“You’re being awfully friendly today” Ritchie said, instantly suspicious.
“I figured that you ought to get a kick out of something I noticed” Roy said, “In this neighborhood, everyone is dirt poor, half the businesses are fronts run by the local Mafiosos and the weather. Starting to feel familiar?”
Roy found the thought amusing. This neighborhood had look and feel similar to many of those found in towns south of the US/Mexico border, right down to the masonry buildings and old churches. That was when the waitress returned with a couple bottles of cold beer, at least refrigeration worked here.
“I understand that Spain is the same way” Ritchie said, Roy just shrugged. Beyond pointing it out, he didn’t care.
They sat there for a few minutes in silence drinking their beer, until Roy spoke again. “You are tight with Whiskey Parker” He said, “Has he mentioned anything about this operation beyond what we have been told?”
“No” Ritchie replied, “Should he have?”
“Probably not, but this is starting to feel like Mexico at the beginning, when the whole thing was slow-walked. Later we found out that there was more going on behind the scenes than we realized at the time.”
That was the impression that many of the veterans of the Mexican had. That the League of Nations had waited until anyone who might have opposed the reforms that they had imposed on Mexico after the war were all dead before the intervention had started. Ritchie thought that was a bit bonkers because if that were true than someone would have said something by now because people were generally bad at keeping secrets. Jonny would have said that was confusing incompetence and bureaucratic inertia with malice.
“The impression I get is that Lieutenant Colonel Bock and Captain von Preussen are trying to play it straight” Ritchie said.
“Perhaps” Roy said, “But Bock is a blunt object and von Preussen, she’s a cheerleader, or at least as close to that as you get in Germany. It’s always wheels within wheels with the Krauts, so who is behind them?”
Ritchie wasn’t inclined to disagree with that, though he doubted that there was really a wider game at play here.
22nd November 1966
Taranto, Italy
After weeks of waiting around in Laupheim, they finally had a clue about where Arbusto was. It came at a good time because everyone had been getting pissed about the various things that the Germans had done over the previous years that had been growing increasingly apparent. The AG44 had brought everything to head, not only was the ammunition for the 40mm under-barrel grenade launcher exactly the same as what got used in the M-79 and a similar variant of the M-10, but Simon Kravitz learned that its development had been pushed by General Hans von Mischner. The same General they had surrendered their weapons to at the end of the Sino-Korean War. It had been his own gear that had been reverse engineered and Kravitz had been furious. Then they had learned that there was also a vehicle mounted long-recoil automatic grenade launcher that the German Navy had already fielded and everyone else got pissed. Parker told them to get over it, the Krauts were wizards with it came to mechanical shit and they should have expected that a good idea would get pinched in a hurry.
No sooner than that had concluded than they learned that their KSK counterparts had been issued a light machinegun that used the same 6.5mm rifle cartridge as the G44 and would supplement the MG42/48 machineguns that had already been in use. It had turned out that the Bohemian weapons maker Brno had copied a Belgian prototype and the Belgians were livid, saying that this wasn’t the first time they had been ripped off by the Germans. FN had been developing the “Mini Mitrailleuse” with the hope of selling it on the export market after it had had been fielded by the Belgian Army. The Germans and their Bohemian friends were stepping on that with the MG64. Parker had said that he had already passed that information on to interested parties, meaning the CIA. If the Belgians couldn’t sell their machinegun throughout Europe, then Uncle Sam was more than happy to buy the license at whatever inflated price they wanted and gain a little bit of influence in a part of the world where they might not have had much before. If it could be adapted to use 6mm Springfield, then Ritchie would be perfectly happy to get one. The clunky derivative of the Browning Automatic Rifle which he had been carrying around for years left a lot to be desired. Still, that left the question as to why the Belgian Government and FN didn’t sue Brno the way that Mauser had famously sued Springfield over the 1903 Rifle decades earlier. Parker had told Ritchie to take a closer look at the MG64, he had and recognized that it was an updated, belt-fed version of the old BAR that he was familiar with. If FN sued Brno, there was a good chance they would in turn get sued by Browning. It was a can of worms that no one wanted to open.
Fortunately for everyone they have been ordered to pack up and board an airplane for Taranto before things boiled over, with the Italian Naval Base that was to be the forward staging point for the operation to nab Arbusto. Once again, they were left waiting as the powers that be wrangled over the timing of when to go ahead with the mission. They were going to conduct an operation on the edge of a warzone, everyone wanted all their ducks in a row before they went in to collect him. Where winter had been setting in when they had left Germany, it still felt like summer here in Italy.
For lack of anything better to do, Ritchie wandered off base to the local watering hole where he saw that “Roy” Benavidez had already set up shop at a table in front of tavern. He had it on good authority that that the First Sergeant’s real name was Raul, but no one called him that. Everyone assumed that because they were the only two soldiers with Mexican backgrounds in this outfit, they got along. The truth was that being California Mexican meant something vastly different from being Texas Mexican. That was an even wider gulf than that between a First Sergeant and a Specialist 2nd Class. Where Ritchie was fairly easygoing, Roy was stubborn and tough even by the standards of the Special Forces. Ritchie had caught word that a promotion to Specialist 1st Class was coming as soon as this operation was over, that would do nothing to close the gap.
That was why Ritchie was surprised when Roy waved him over.
“A beer for my friend” Roy called in Spanish to the waitress who smiled and disappeared into the building.
“She understood that?” Ritchie asked.
“There are quite a few differences” Roy said, “But Romance languages, you know.”
Ritchie wouldn’t have thought of that on his own. Roy was more of the talk louder until the foreigners understand sort, something that evidently worked in Italy this time.
“You’re being awfully friendly today” Ritchie said, instantly suspicious.
“I figured that you ought to get a kick out of something I noticed” Roy said, “In this neighborhood, everyone is dirt poor, half the businesses are fronts run by the local Mafiosos and the weather. Starting to feel familiar?”
Roy found the thought amusing. This neighborhood had look and feel similar to many of those found in towns south of the US/Mexico border, right down to the masonry buildings and old churches. That was when the waitress returned with a couple bottles of cold beer, at least refrigeration worked here.
“I understand that Spain is the same way” Ritchie said, Roy just shrugged. Beyond pointing it out, he didn’t care.
They sat there for a few minutes in silence drinking their beer, until Roy spoke again. “You are tight with Whiskey Parker” He said, “Has he mentioned anything about this operation beyond what we have been told?”
“No” Ritchie replied, “Should he have?”
“Probably not, but this is starting to feel like Mexico at the beginning, when the whole thing was slow-walked. Later we found out that there was more going on behind the scenes than we realized at the time.”
That was the impression that many of the veterans of the Mexican had. That the League of Nations had waited until anyone who might have opposed the reforms that they had imposed on Mexico after the war were all dead before the intervention had started. Ritchie thought that was a bit bonkers because if that were true than someone would have said something by now because people were generally bad at keeping secrets. Jonny would have said that was confusing incompetence and bureaucratic inertia with malice.
“The impression I get is that Lieutenant Colonel Bock and Captain von Preussen are trying to play it straight” Ritchie said.
“Perhaps” Roy said, “But Bock is a blunt object and von Preussen, she’s a cheerleader, or at least as close to that as you get in Germany. It’s always wheels within wheels with the Krauts, so who is behind them?”
Ritchie wasn’t inclined to disagree with that, though he doubted that there was really a wider game at play here.
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That's how you make an entry! With 10.5 cm naval rifles and not puny flash bangs.