Part XVII: Invasion

June 27, 1940. Vlora, Albania.

"DO YOU SEE HOW THEY FEAR YOU?" Muso Ulqinaku shouted over the thundering bombardment.

Don't let the façade slip…

He was reasonably sure his men didn't need any additional encouragement, they'd been training for this for as long as he had. The poor Gendarmes and the Army men on the other hand definitely did. Well, perhaps not the Gendarmes, Zog's decision to integrate them into the Army after his declaration of war had been odd, but seemed to be paying off. Some of the Army sops though, they definitely needed to see "Captain Ulqinaku." They were scared and rightly so, if he let himself think the massive Italian advantages in firepower, airpower, and numbers he'd be scared too.

After all, the Regia Marina and the Regia Aeronautica had pulled out all the stops to avenge the "despicable perpetrators of Sazan." Weeks of aerial bombardment had left the city a ruin, and if that wasn't enough, the Italians had anchored a battleship and half a dozen cruisers offshore to inflict even more punishment. Behind them, were dozens of vessels packed with enough Italian troops to outnumber the defenders' three battalions by a factor of tenfold at least. All of it meant to demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mussolini's Italy was not to be trifled with. On paper it probably seemed like this battle was going to be over before it even began. (1)

But wars aren't fought on paper.

"HOLD FAST SHQIPTARET!" (2)

The bombardment was nearing its end, Muso was sure of it. There simply wasn't much more to bombard. The docks were the only part of the city that hadn't been touched and that was because the Italians needed those to offload their troops and supplies. They also probably thought that the small force which had repelled their initial attack yesterday had been either cowed or destroyed. After all, the wonderful decoys that had been prepared for this moment had probably all been destroyed by now, along with the trio of vessels that Muso's men had captured only weeks earlier.

So much for steel…

It had been nice to captain something larger than a caique for once, but Muso had always known that it would be a fleeting experience. Albania didn't have the expertise to crew those ships nor maintain them but that hadn't stopped the Navy from using them to ferry everything that wasn't nailed down from Sazan to Vlora before becoming targets for the Regia Aeronautica. How many bombs had been wasted trying to hit those vessels flitting about the harbour in the past few days? (3)

Hopefully enough to buy some time for the civilians. It's not like we were able to do anything else…

There were times when some Italian aircraft swooped in low enough to justify opening fire with the handful of 20mm guns they'd been assigned, but they just didn't have the ammunition to spare. Every round, especially for the heavier guns, was needed to fend off the boats. This fact meant that the civilian population of the city were largely left to their own devices. Fortunately, as most of them were employed by FMSh in some way or another they had the network and the supplies to get out of the immediate combat zone rather quickly. Still there were too many civilians still in the city for his liking.

As what started as a brief pause in the bombardment began to grow longer and longer, Muso grabbed his canteen and took a long pull before using some to wet a handkerchief and wipe the dust off his face. Even if this was just another lull in the bombardment, it felt nice to clear some of the dirt away. With every minute the dust continued to settle and his vision improved. He took solace in the fact that everyone seemed to be in one piece. The large basement they had dug out precisely for this purpose had served them well, only a few men had been wounded, and only lightly at that.

Clearing his throat, Muso spat out the remaining dust that had gathered in his mouth before speaking. "Remember men, they won't fire those blasted big guns with their men on the beaches. By the time they realize we're still here, it's going to be too late. Our job is to make them pay for that mistake. Our job is to make them pay for their bombardment, OUR JOB IS TO MAKE THEM PAY FOR EVEN THINKING THAT THEY CAN COME HERE AND TAKE OUR COUNTRY!"

A low guttural roar erupted from his men as they proceeded to collect themselves.

"You all know your assignments. When we get the signal, you are to man your posts and fight until you run out of ammunition or are given the signal to fall back."

"Captain! The boats!"

Grabbing his binoculars from the Lieutenant, Muso turned his eyes towards the bay. Sure enough, the motley collection of landing craft the Italians had assembled were surging forward towards the docks and towards the beaches nearest to them.

So it begins…

"SHQIPTARET YOU KNOW YOUR ORDERS! MAKE THEM PAY!"

Another guttural roar was almost drowned out by the cacophony which erupted from hundreds of men moving at once. Banishing all other thoughts from his mind, Muso focused on leading by example. Grabbing his submachine gun, he rose and was the first one out of the door. All around him, the once proud city of Vlora was in ruins. Had he stopped to think about where he was going, he might have gotten lost amidst all the rubble. Instead, his reliance on muscle memory served him well and he reached his trench mere moments later. To the Italian's credit, a few shells had hit it during the bombardment, but not nearly enough to compromise its effectiveness. Within minutes, Muso and his men had their shovels out and were well on their way to making it even more formidable than it had been originally.

The rhythmic sound of digging helped distract him from the agony of waiting those final few minutes for the Italians to get in range. Only the steady thumping of the 20mm guns firing off their 12 round trays at the Italian minesweepers brought him back to reality. As he watched the Italians maneuver their boats through the shallow waters, edging closer and closer to the shore, Muso couldn't quite help but feel like this time was different. He'd faced similar men twice before now, yet both of those men had been likely clueless as to the kind of forces they were coming up against. The garrison at Sazan had surrendered before the full weight of his battalion's firepower had even been deployed, and yesterday's first wave of Italians had retreated when casualties became unsustainable. This next wave on the other hand, probably had orders to press forward no matter what the cost to help cover the minesweepers so that they could clear the way for the merchants to dock and unload. They were also probably more motivated after not only Sazan but the slaughter of their comrades yesterday. This next wave was the beginning of a whole new kind of war than the one they'd been fighting the past few weeks.

Scotti-20mm-1024x544.jpg

An example of the 20mm Scotti cannon fielded by the Albanians in 1940​

The 13mm machine guns they had captured at Sazan were the next weapons to open fire. Given their superior armour piercing capability, those volleys were similarly targeted at the minesweepers leaving the boats on the beaches to the tender mercies of Muso and his men. Peering over the edge of his trench, Muso watched as they inched closer and closer before turning his attention to the rest of his command. Some cursed, some said prayers, others said nothing at all. Their immaculate weapons stood in stark contrast to the dirt and sweat caking all of their uniforms each rifle, machine gun, and grenade launcher ready to unleash hell on the invaders. Turning back to the beaches, Muso silently watched as men began to jump off the simple wooden boats and wade ashore, unknowingly passing the markers delineating the effective range of the weapons facing them.

"PUSHKO!"

Notes

1. According to Owen Pearson the Italians allocated a similar task force in OTL's 1939 invasion due to Vlora's importance as the main port for Italian oil interests. In TTL it's a bit bigger due to the attack on Sazan.

2. Shqiptaret literally translates as "Sons of Eagles."

3. It's worth noting that the Regia Aeronautica's accuracy early on in the war wasn't anything to write home about.

June 28, 1940. Durres, Albania.

Nasibu (4)…you are avenged…

They'd done it. The city of Durres stood in ruins and its beaches had been painted red, but every hour the Italians waited to launch their next wave signaled that they had either run out of landing ships or troops willing to man them. Their seeming reluctance to deliver yet another punishing bombardment also made Mehmet wonder if the Regia Marina hadn't foreseen the need to provide their ships with sufficient high explosive rounds. Perhaps that was one of the advantages of allying with the British. Even though they weren't able to send any tangible aid, the fact that the Royal Navy was even out there forced the Italians to take precautions they otherwise wouldn't have had to.

Even though he knew that this battle was just the opening salvo of what would probably be a long and drawn out conflict, Mehmet felt like shouting at the top of his lungs. It was all he could do to maintain his reputation as the austere General for his men lest they lose focus. The Battle of Ogaden had shattered his confidence. Even though Zog had been beyond generous in providing him with information, he'd been continually burdened by the weight of uncertainty for the entirety of his time in Alexandria. Could he really look at these Albanian soldiers and expect them to follow his orders? Could he live with himself asking them to die based on the plans he'd drawn up under the Egyptian sun? His doubts had been so strong, he almost didn't get on the boat tasked with bringing him back to Albania. Even after he put on yet another new uniform and set his hand to the tasks he'd been planning for so long, he'd agonized over the lack of time he had to prepare.

The agony had gotten even worse when Zog opted to withdraw the remnants of the nascent Royal Albanian Air Corps after the Regia Aeronautica finally wised up to their deception. While it had been better to have had some aerial reconnaissance even for a short while, its absence had only amplified the sense of impending doom. Every day after that, Mehmet had awoken wondering if this was the day when his defenses and his new command would be tested. Days blended into one another as he and his men worked around the clock, pausing only during Italian air-raids. Then, all of a sudden, word came from the waterfront: the Italians had arrived.

Mehmet almost laughed at the memory. It seemed so long ago, yet it hadn't been quite 48 hours since the first Italian attempt.

What a waste…the British they are certainly not…

Part of him still wondered if the Italians expected them to negotiate even now after everything. Why else would they send less than a hundred men on wooden boats to secure the docks? Then again, perhaps Zog had been even more successful at concealing his intentions than he realized. Not that it really mattered, even if the Italians had used tactics similar to the Spanish and French at Alhucemas,(5) they would have run straight into the defensive positions Zog had ordered him to prepare. Either the man was a military genius beyond compare or he had some very good spies in the Kingdom of Italy.

If we had the same kind of intelligence at Gallipoli even the British would have been driven off…

Unfortunately for the Italians, they had only a fraction of the landing craft the British did in 1915, keeping their vaunted numerical superiority in check and preventing them from stretching his limited resources too thin. Instead they landed their troops in a vain attempt to secure the docks, only to find Mehmet's troops ready and waiting for them. Their defensive positions, while crude, had been brutally effective in presenting the first substantial wave of Italian troops with overlapping fields of fire and beach obstacles. To their credit, the Italian soldiers carried out their orders as best they could, almost succeeding in breaking through at a few points, but all the bravery in the world couldn't overcome the sizeable disadvantages they faced. Every time, Mehmet's reserves had arrived in time and managed to shore up the position in danger. Every time the Italians had been driven back to shore until their number had been whittled down to almost nothing.

Rather than immediately send in another wave, the Italians instead turned to their ships' guns and aerial supremacy to try to compensate. Mehmet suspected that the heavy Italian investment in Durres had prevented them from bombing it too heavily in the opening days of the war. They likely hoped to capture its docks and factories mostly intact, but with his artillery wreaking havoc on their minesweepers and especially their limited supply of landing craft they had been presented with no other choice. To their credit, the amount of firepower they'd brought to bear had been blistering but had again proved insufficient to counter their preparations. Mehmet had been particularly impressed with his troop's success in preparing and utilizing multiple camouflaged revetments and decoy positions to dramatically decrease losses from the Italian bombardment.

Of course, the fact that he'd lost far fewer men to the Italian bombardment than he planned was little comfort to the men who were killed. But it did mean that the ones who survived were that much better equipped to repel the next wave of Italian invaders. Having taken advantage of the bombardment to clear the mines in the harbour, this time the Italians augmented their surviving landing craft by sending their troopships to seize the docks directly, casualties be damned. Again, underestimating their numbers and determination, Mehmet's Italian counterparts likely thought that they stood a chance of success if they were able to draw the garrison away from the docks with distractions elsewhere. Unfortunately for them, their plan failed, and their troops paid for it with their lives.

They had obviously placed considerable hope in a diversionary attack from the north at Bisht-I-Palles, going so far as to allocate three of their five purpose built landing ships to the attempt. But here again Zog's intelligence had been the Italians' undoing. Whereas Mehmet likely would have only allocated minimal forces, Zog's intelligence reports had led him to invest a substantial reserve in the area, including a battery of artillery, Austrian guns from the last war, but still significant considering that the entire army had less than 50 pieces of artillery. The results had been catastrophic for the Italians. Over a thousand men dead, two landing ships severely damaged and the Albanian flank left unthreatened. A similar fate awaited the other Italian attacks, albeit without the same performance from the Artillery. Instead, Mehmet noted with some surprise, the Gendarmerie's vaunted "Grenadiers" performed that role rather well. While their grenade launchers were certainly not the same as proper mortars, Mehmet doubted if the dead Italians cared at this point. Working in teams, they'd been able to use the modified Italian cast offs to send a blistering barrage of small but deadly warheads down on the invading troops and when combined with rifle and machine gun fire, it had been enough to drive them back into the sea.

The poor men onboard the troopships tasked with taking the docks directly had no such luxury. Instead they found themselves trapped as Albanian artillery, grenade launchers, machine guns, and rifles transformed their vessels into charnel houses of destruction. Body after body piled up on the docks while other supporting ships tried to suppress the vicious fusillades of fire coming from the shore. Some more enterprising soldiers attempted to jump overboard and swim ashore, using the vessel itself as cover, but in doing so they usually lost most of their equipment and were easily dealt with once they finally got ashore. The rest either tried again and again and again to secure the docks or cowered below decks while their comrades were shot to pieces. The Regia Marina did their best to alleviate the situation, but without adequate training or communications their subsequent naval gunfire support proved insufficient to prevent the troopships' eventual surrender. (6)

The bombardment which followed had been fearsome to be sure, but no further landings had taken place. Instead, the Albanian Army stood victorious, at least in Durres. While his troops took stock and continued to dig in, Zog's propaganda men kept working tirelessly. During the battle they'd been everywhere, filming and photographing and interviewing and they seemed to be even more omnipresent now that the shooting had subsided. Mehmet was sure that whatever work they were doing would be shown not only throughout Albania but around the world. Rumor had it that "Little Albania" standing up to the Italians had born hundreds of pithy little statements like "Not All Heroes are Albanian, but all Albanians are Heroes." All of that had taken place before the Battle of Durres, how much grander would the next claims be? (7)

Of course, the Italians only needed to take one port to leverage their massive numerical superiority. They knew this, which is why they sent four, one to each major Albanian port, instead of just the one to Durres. The Durres task force was by far the largest by his estimation, hardly surprising given the relative size and development of the port, but the other three taskforces couldn't be underestimated. Unfortunately, he knew full well that his victory here today was only made possible by depriving the other likely invasion sites of desperately needed artillery and men.

9782963_orig.jpg

The Italian invasion of Albania. The Italian strategy is roughly the same in both OTL and TTL only TTL's version has more troops and assets dedicated to it.​

Only time will tell if any of this was worth it… When he'd brought up the fact that once the Italians captured a port they would be very difficult to dislodge, Zog had acknowledged the point but insisted on scoring a decisive victory at Durres. "The Propaganda alone will be worth its weight in gold...not to mention that without our largest port, the Italian attack will slow to a crawl…what better way to make them fight on our terms?"

One can only hope…

"General Pasha!" even with the bandage covering the nasty gash on his forehead, the smile on Enver Hoxha's face lit up the room.

Speaking of hope…

Though he'd initially been skeptical about the usefulness of Zog's lieutenant, the young Hoxha had proven himself over and over again. Without him mobilizing the factory workers to help prepare the defenses and evacuate the civilian population, things would have been so much worse. He'd also helped orient Mehmet to Durres and served capably as his right-hand man, tackling the immense learning curve with seemingly little difficulty. He'd also shown considerable personal bravery, leading reserve forces to shore up weak points and even volunteering to lead a group of firefighters in rescuing civilians trapped in the rubble after the bombardment. Apparently, a propaganda crew got footage of him emerging from the rubble bloodied but unbowed and carrying an injured child nonetheless. If the Albanian people didn't know who Enver Hoxha was yet, Mehmet doubted they'd learn pretty quickly.

"News from Vlora: they've survived the bombardment and succeeded in pinning the Italians on the beach!" Hoxha burst out before snapping a tired salute.

So there are limits to the boundless energy of youth… The adrenalin that had been pumping through all of their veins was beginning to run out, and at 64 he felt it more than most of his men. Still one couldn't help but be inspired by the fervor which Zog had inculcated in his men…

"Excellent news!" Mehmet replied, allowing small grin. Truth be told it wasn't that much of a surprise. Next to Durres, both he and Zog had pegged Vlora as the Italian's secondary target. As a result, it had gotten the lions share of whatever forces weren't committed to Durres. The Navy had also been able to bolster their defenses with weapons captured from the Italian base at Sazan not to mention redeploy their crack battalion of naval infantry. If the Italians were going to have difficulties anywhere other than Durres it was going to be at Vlora.

"Any news from Saranda or Shengjin?"

That question seemed to deflate Hoxha somewhat and understandably so. He nodded his head solemnly. "No word sir."

Mehmet merely shook his head. What more could he say? He knew that the focus on Durres and Vlora had left the northernmost and southernmost ports with less than 1500 men apiece, he'd written the plan himself. Not only were these men of questionable quality, but they also lacked both sufficient artillery and anti-boat guns in Mehmet's estimation. Perhaps they might have been able to cobble together another two battalions of quality men and equipment from the rest of Zog's forces, but doing that would mean abandoning any hope of seriously contesting the Italian invasion if they breached the perimeter. Given their success at Durres that might have been the right decision in hindsight, but it had been a risk neither of them were willing to make a few months ago when finalizing the plans.

All they could do at this point was hope that Spiro Moisiu and Prenk Pervisi, the only two Army officers to be promoted after the merger of the Army and Gendarmerie didn't render the sacrifices at Durres and Vlora moot. While Moisiu showed every indication of being the "future of the Albanian Army" Zog claimed he was, Pervisi had been a profound disappointment and nothing could convince him otherwise. While he didn't relish the political pressures Zog faced trying to maintain his ramshackle coalition, he simply couldn't see the usefulness in keeping Pervisi around, never mind promoting him and giving him a coastal garrison.

Perhaps it's a small mercy he's a long ways away in Saranda. A small port incapable of fully supporting the Italian invasion and a long ways away from Tirana…better there than Shengjin…

Notes

4. Referring to Ras Nasibu, Vehib Pasha's former comrade during the Battle of Ogaden during the Italian invasion of Abyssinia. Nasibu died in Swiss exile in 1937 from the lingering effects of the Italian gas attack.

5. A joint Franco-Spanish amphibious attack during the Rif War. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhucemas_landing In OTL Eisenhower studied it in preparation for D-day.

6. Basically, the Italian strategy in TTL is just a beefed up version of their attack in OTL. Only instead of facing Abas Kupi and 500 poorly armed men, they're facing roughly 5000 men with plenty of ammunition and artillery. If anyone thinks this should have gone differently feel free to let me know.

7. Too bad for the Greeks…they'll get their chance though in TTL

June 28, 1940. Shengjin, Albania.

What I wouldn't give for some real mortars…

Colonel Spiro Moisiu (8) would have given everything he had for a whole litany of things, but he didn't have that option. Instead he and his garrison were forced to make do with whatever they were given. A battery of 60mm mountain guns, a handful of 20mm autocannon, a few dozen grenade launchers, and about the same number of machine guns were all Zog could spare to protect Albania's northernmost port. No matter how much he protested, Zog continued to order him to make do with what he had and had refused to send him any additional heavy weaponry or even reinforcements. The latter had really been the sticking point, Moisiu had been tasked with making a silk purse out of a sow's ear with the best troops stationed in either Durres or Vlora, but at least he wasn't in Prenk Pervisi's shoes down in Saranda. The least strategically important Albanian port had been given even less priority than Shengjin.

While he knew that Zog expected neither of their forces to hold their positions in the face of an overwhelming Italian onslaught, the fact that even his depleted garrison had come tantalizingly close to driving the Italians back into the sea still irked him. An additional battalion would have given him enough men to sufficiently extend his defenses to guard against an Italian flanking attack. (9) Even with the Italians' having the advantage of surprise during their flanking attack, his men had inflicted grievous casualties on them and prevented whatever was left of their artillery from being captured. How many more would they have been able to kill, how many more of his men would still be alive if they had been able to meet the invaders on the beaches?

Another explosion, this time a bit too close for comfort, brought Spiro back to the moment. There was a time for after-action reports, and that time was not now. His command was perilously close to being completely surrounded and the last bombardment had destroyed their last 20mm autocannon rendering him without artillery. Moreover, holding their position now would be not only suicidal but pointless. The scuttled vessels in the harbour effectively denied the port to the Italians in the short-term and they had killed more than enough of the initial waves to show the Kingdom of Albania's resolve. The only thing that they'd be contributing to by standing their ground to the bitter end was the monument that would hopefully be built here after the war. No, their only option right now was to break out and link up with the troops marshaling inland.

…and if we can get a little vengeance while we're at it, all the better!

As it turned out, the Italians weren't the only ones who could execute a flanking attack. They'd been able to utilize their superior numbers and mobility to get the drop on them once, but in doing so had failed to account for the fact that Spiro's men knew these hills far better than they did. Or at least one of them did. "Man" was probably being generous, Xhemil was 12 at best. A member of the scouts (10) who'd gotten separated during the evacuation, he'd volunteered his services hours before the Italian attack and gotten swept up in all of this. Spiro had fully intended to keep him out of harm's way and return him to his parents or his troop, but he hadn't gotten the chance. Instead, despite not knowing how to shoot, Xhemil had kept busy during the actual fighting and found an unguarded goat trail leading to the flank of the Italian flanking force. So, instead of trying to link up with Vehib Pasha's forces to the south and falling into the Italian's trap south of their position they had taken advantage of the darkness to slip away to the north. With any luck, they'd be able to make it to Shkodra and join Musa Juka's forces there for a counterattack.

Shengjin early attack.jpg

Action Around Shengjin. Green= Italian, Black = Albanian​

As another volley of Italian mortar fire slammed into his command's former position, Spiro thanked whatever god was looking down on them that the Italian Army hadn't decided to invest in illumination rounds. The Italians had gotten close enough to absolutely wiping out his force without them and only the cover of darkness had allowed his men's limited camouflage training to mask their escape. Were their positions switched, Spiro knew he'd be cursing his inability to finish off his opponent.

Especially now…

Taking a deep breath, Spiro nodded to his adjutant who in turn signaled his men to affix bayonets. Now was not the time to remain in the rear, there was no alternative to this attack failing. Surrender was not an option. Not for him. For its entire history, the Albanian Army had been a laughingstock. He'd worked for almost a decade to change that and he wasn't about to stop now. He and his men had sacrificed too much to get to this point to surrender. They might not have been the cream of the Albanian army, but 48 hours of fighting had transformed the survivors into a force worth reckoning with. He would fight and, if necessary, he would die with these men.

Pointing his flare gun to the night sky, Spiro pulled the hammer back and squeezed the trigger, sending a bright red spear into the sky. "SULMO!" He bellowed as his grenadiers followed his example. Bursts of flickering white light from their illumination rounds followed, but Spiro hardly noticed as he raced across the remaining open ground at the head of his troops. For a few brief moments he heard nothing but the pounding of his heart and the steady impact of his feet hitting the ground one after another. The noise only built from there. First came the methodical cracks from his sharpshooters, then the bursts from his machine gunners and grenadiers. Then came the sudden rush and crash as the rest of his men, filthy, bloody, but unbowed, slammed into the rear of the Italian formation.

Chaos was everywhere. Spiro had fired his Browning Hi-Power on the range plenty of times, but seeing it used against actual flesh and blood enemies was an entirely different experience. The weapon functioned masterfully as he emptied the magazine into the ranks of his foes, taking down an entire mortar crew by himself. Yet in trying to save the empty clip, he paused for a moment too long, allowing one of the Italians to come at him with a shovel. Dropping the replacement clip, Spiro caught the blow on his forearm and felt the sharp kiss of the tools edge before he brought his pistol around into contact with his opponent's face. Bewildered, the Italian failed to block Spiro's subsequent kick to the chest which sent him sprawling and gave Spiro enough time to insert a new clip and put two 9mm bullets in him.

The screams of dying men echoed in Spiro's ears as he emptied his weapon's magazine yet again this time with a bit more discrimination. His men were seemingly everywhere, stabbing, shooting, and bludgeoning every Italian they came across in a brutal act of collective retribution for the bombardment and flanking attack of the previous day. All around them fire from his sharpshooters, machine gunners and grenadiers slammed into would-be Italian counterattacks, breaking them up for Spiro's riflemen to finish off. By the time he'd loaded his third and final clip, the Italians were on the run.

Normally he'd celebrate such a victory, but they simply didn't have time. "Lieutenant Cakuli, take C Company and set up down the road in case the Italians get any ideas. Everyone else, you have 15 minutes to grab whatever you can. Mortars and Machine Guns take precedence. We'll camp at Balldreni. With any luck the trucks from the evacuation effort would still be there and save us the march to Shkodra. We will be back!"

Spiro's heart pulsed with pride in his chest as he watched his men cheer before promptly following orders. He barely noticed the blood seeping through his uniform, but his battalion's medic Walter Bauer did. "Colonel, let me tend to that wound lest it get infected." To his credit, the man had come a long way learning Albanian in only 2 years, but the German accent still sounded odd. While normally Spiro would have been hesitant to let a former veterinary student tend to his wounds, the past 48 hours had proven the Austrian Jew was worth his weight in gold. (11)

Spiro nodded and stopped to let the man work. "Casualties?" he said in German, hoping to bypass the halting Albanian that Walter tried to use every chance he got.

"Light, I counted 14 dead, perhaps twice that wounded but most of them are ambulatory." Walter said his voice tinged with relief before it darkened "But sir, the scout Xhemil…"

Damn.

"Zog had a saying…some American… 'It is a good thing that war is so terrible, lest we become too fond of it…'"

"He will not be forgotten."

"No, but he will also not be the last boy to die in this damned war…" Spiro responded sharply as Walter finished bandaging his wound "…we will mourn him later. Right now, we need to march. This battle isn't over."

Notes

8. Moisiu was in charge of the Army at Shengjin in OTL and wanted to make a stand but had insufficient support from Zog in April 1939. In TTL he has way more than he did in OTL, but still not enough for his liking.

9. While I don't have access for the Italian plans to invade Shengjin in 1939 as no fighting took place there and the Italian archives on Albania are mostly closed, it's worth noting that their assault on Durres in OTL featured a similar flanking attack. Again, the outcome of this battle in particular highlights the limits of Jack's foreknowledge. Due to the fact that the only real fighting during OTL's Italian invasion occurred around Durres, he only can predict so much. He managed to get lucky at Vlora, but without adequate resources he just isn't able to win everywhere.

10. For the establishment of the scouts, see Part X.

11. Worth noting once again that Jewish refugees played a key role in OTL's Albanian partisan movement as medics. Also worth noting that Spiro, despite being on the more progressive side of Albanian society, still has some prejudice to overcome.[/I]

June 28, 1940. Saranda, Albania.

Prenk Previsi's heart sank as he watched even more troops pour out of the Italian troopship onto the docks.

"It's over…"

Things had been going so well up until that damned bombardment. All of his initial complaining about his force's insufficiencies and the foolishness of contesting the landings had melted away as his men easily batted aside the paltry Italian landing attempt. He'd even thought for a moment that Zog's claims about the low numbers of Italian landing craft had been understated if anything. Little did he know that the bulk of the Italian landing craft were either being held back or being used to land troops to the south.

Too much beach, not enough men… He thought bitterly. One would think that over a decade of loyal service to Zog would have gotten him a better assignment, or at least access to more reinforcements. Instead, he was passed over again and again by not only younger officers, but even Vehib Pasha fresh from some Alexandrian dive bar. Zog still paid well enough and what he'd done for Albania was undeniable, but the lack of loyalty masked as "meritocracy" was still galling for him. (12)

Still, the early hours of the invasion had erased all that feeling. For a moment it seemed like Zog had been right and that only a small force was needed to drive the Italians away from Saranda. Zog may have denied request after request, but he'd granted the most important one: an opportunity to prove himself on the battlefield. Had the battle ended there…

But it didn't end there. Hundreds of Italian shells slammed into his positions and made him instantly regret underestimating Zog's investments in strategic deception and camouflage units. Perhaps had he asked for more reinforcements in that respect instead of for just additional men and guns he would have received a more positive response. Then again, Zog might have refused and continued to focus on Durres and Vlora. Regardless of what might have happened, the reality was that Prenk was forced to watch as the Italian bombardment smashed his carefully prepared defenses in preparation for what he thought would be another assault from the sea. Indeed, as the Italian minesweepers took advantage of the havoc the bombardment had played with his artillery that seemed to be the most likely course of action and gave Prenk a renewed sense of hope. Even without most of their artillery, his troops still had a good chance of driving the Italians off the beaches. The only problem was that the initial attack didn't come from the beaches. Instead a column of Italian infantry attacked from the south and nearly succeeded in overrunning his headquarters in Lekursi castle. (13)

A small mercy… he'd been on his way out to personally oversee preparations to repel yet another landing when the attack occurred. Had the Italians been half an hour later they would have been able to take the castle completely. Instead they placed Prenk in an unwinnable situation. If he retreated to join up with the rest of his forces, the Italians would take the castle and cut off their only reasonable road out of the city. On the other hand, if Prenk withdrew his troops from their positions, the subsequent Italian attack on the docks would be almost impossible to beat back. Knowing that his orders were not to hold at all costs, Prenk chose the second option and hoped against all hope that the troops he left behind would be enough.

They weren't, but the reinforcements arrived just in time to beat back the Italian flanking force albeit with heavy casualties. Even in the thick of the fighting, Prenk still harboured hope that somehow, he'd be able to lead his men back down to the beach to push back the invaders, but there were just too many of them now. Besides, this kind of fighting was always going to favour the Italian's superiority at sea and in the air.

The return of the telltale thunder and whistling that had accompanied the Italian bombardment for its entire duration had Prenk running for cover well before he heard his men cry out "INCOMING!"

Speak of the devil…

He didn't quite make it to cover in time.

Notes

12. Pervisi was stationed in Korca of all places during the invasion in OTL. Though he later became a key figure in the nationalist resistance movement and claimed that he wanted to resist the Italian invasion, shortly after Zog fled the country he joined up with the new Italian puppet government which he served until the invasion of Greece in 1940. Though he was one of Zog's more effective officers in OTL, that isn't saying too much and he really didn't perform well in any of his subsequent activities during the war. In TTL his reformist sympathies keep him in Zog's camp but his tribal sensibilities are pulling him the other way, especially as he falls on the wrong side of Zog's Army reform.

13. Here again the SI's limited foreknowledge results in some mistakes which are compounded by the intangibles going in the Italian's favour. Unlike Durres, no fighting took place at Saranda, so Jack doesn't know where the Italians are going to land. Furthermore, the Italians get a bit lucky and the Albanians are less prepared for their bombardment so they're able to knock out most of Pervisi's artillery.

----

Thanks for all the comments! Sorry for the delay, RL has been a bit difficult lately. Feel free to critique how the invasion battles turned out. To recap, the Albanians are able to completely drive the Italians back at Durres, deny them the harbours at Vlora and Shengjin to varying degrees and only really lose at Saranda. IMO that's fairly realistic given Italian advantages and the limits of Jack's foreknowledge.