WesWorld

Quoted

Pah! All this French dithering and indecision! France could have swept these geezers into the sea within a couple of hours.

To the Japanese, the British are nothing but bullies who do not care what happens when they take action. After all, the end justifies the means. The French are at least thoughtful of their neighbour and will do whatever they can to limit damage and casualties.

Quoted

the French don't want to cause too much damage and face some hefty insurance claims when its all over.

Well, the people obviously did not read the small print at the bottom of the insurance papers. The insurances do not cover foreign invasion or intervention.

Quoted

Monaco has to take more steps for its own defence and possibly build a few patrol boats too.

Hmmm... a potential customer. Maybe something bigger that also houses a casino.

October 6 - 0900 Hours
Palais de Prince

Major Nazzari raised his binoculars and looked down from the upper story of the prince's palace. Although he was silhouetted against the sky, he had no fear of snipers - it would take the dithering and indecisive French weeks to figure out what to do with the situation. Of course, Nazzari's hope was that Paris, pressured by their own socialist left, would accept the new order. Nazzari's men, trained by their years in the Italian Army and then the Persian foreign brigade, had managed to take the Principality in a nearly-bloodless coup de main. True, a few Carabiniers had been killed and wounded, but it was well within Bottazzi's calculations for success. Nazzari looked towards the sea. The French Navy had arrived fast, and one of their large contre-torpillieurs, accompanied by a dozen motor torpedo boats, buzzed off the coast warning away yachts with curious sightseers.

"Commandant Comrade!" one of the Avanguardia men called. "We've found something."

Nazzari followed the man deeper into the palace, turning hither and yon until they reached a bedroom. Two of Nazzari's Avanguardia troopers covered a young man who sat in a chair with an unconcerned, almost indolent air. His suit was perfectly tailored; Nazzari knew this well, since his father had been a tailor. "Who is this?" he demanded.

"It's Rainier, Commandant Comrade. The grandson of Prince Louis."

"Is that so?" Nazzari said, looking at the young man. "In that case, I think we may have a use for him..."



Giuseppe Bottazzi finished stuffing cash into the suitcase. The political leader of the Avanguardias, with twelve of his closest accomplices, had split away from the rest of the group in order to clear out the true targets of the raid: the wealth of the Monte Carlo casino. Nazzari won't be happy when he discovers I've tricked him, Bottazzi mused to himself. But the Avanguardia military commander, for all of his many talents, was ideologically impure, and the Avanguardia troops he brought to the mission were just as impure - lacking in the zeal of the Marxist-Trotskyist cause. They would be purged, though unfortunately not by Bottazzi's own.

They took the suitcases of cash to a penthouse Bottazzi had rented months before. It was small for Monaco's excessive bourgeoisie wealth, but Bottazzi knew the place would be safe when the Avanguardias were wiped out. The carpet was carefully peeled back and some of the floorboards removed; the cash was cached inside.

"All right," Bottazzi told his loyalists. "Change your clothes now. We need to get out of here before the French draw the cordon too tight. Remember your orders. We'll meet at the rendezvous point."

<turn sarcasm on>

Oh how the flood of ideological purity wears thin when cash enters the equation!

<turn sarcasm off>

Why am I not surprised?

A cunning plan!

Methinks Nazzari is either going to die from bullets from the front or back... Had he been Japanese he'd cut himself shaving!

If it had been the Naval expert known as 'Ken', who knows what dubious conclusion the investigators would have made regarding the way he died.

October 6 - 1200 Hours
Palais de Prince

Major Nazzari waited in the Palace, receiving the reports from his lieutenants. I hope Giuseppe shows up soon. He should have been back to the palace an hour ago...

One of his lieutenants arrived. "Sir, there was a soldier outside who was waving a white flag. We send a man out to meet with him and he asked to arrange for a meeting. It seems one of the French cabinet ministers is flying down from Paris."

"Approve that request," Nazzari said. "And somebody find Bottazzi for me!"



October 6 - 1230 Hours
Monaco

Colonel Pierre-Noel Raspéguy arrived at the impromptu headquarters with the first of his troops, riding in a dozen Steyr all-terrain cars which looked absolutely stripped to the bone. The 13th Régiment de Dragons Parachutistes was flying into the civil airport at Nice, nearly shutting down the airfield with their big Normandie transports.

Raspéguy approached the gendarme in charge of the post. "What is the situation?" he demanded without preamble.

"Sir," the policeman said, drawing himself to attention. "Please follow me into the tent and I'll brief you. Minister Murail is arriving shortly as well."

"I'll wait for the Minister, then, and you can brief us both at the same time," Raspéguy said.

Quoted

Originally posted by Brockpaine
Colonel Pierre-Noel Raspéguy arrived at the impromptu headquarters with the first of his troops, riding in a dozen Steyr all-terrain cars which looked absolutely stripped to the bone.

[SIZE=3]Raspéguy![/SIZE]

They are doomed! Doomed I tell you!

October 6 - 1430 Hours
Monaco, 13th RDP Headquarters

Colonel Raspéguy looked up from his maps as Minister Murail entered the tent. "Minister," he said, straightening up and saluting.

Murail nodded in reply. "Colonel. I just finished speaking with the leader of these Avanguardias. Their leader, Major Nazzari, was very much on edge - he asked if we had made prisoners of any of his men. I assured him that to the best of my knowledge, we had not. Is that true?"

"It is, Minister," Raspéguy replied. "I have sent small teams into Monaco for reconnaissance, but they are under strict orders not to engage the enemy."

"I'm very worried that they may take drastic actions," Murail said. "Is there any way we can make solid assurances?"

Raspéguy considered for a few moments. "It depends on what they would believe. It sounds like they have lost contact with some of their men, and fear them captured. If that's the case, we could have another group hiding out somewhere that we don't yet know about. Unless they re-connect with their command structure, then there is little we can do besides make unsupportable diplomatic assertions. If they choose to disbelieve, well..."

Murail sighed and nodded. "I scheduled to contact this Major Nazzari again by telephone in a half-hour. I'll try to keep him engaged with diplomacy... but please tell me that you have something before too long."

"We do," Raspéguy said, gesturing to the map table. "My reconnaissance teams are reporting in as we speak, and I'm developing a plan to take the entire area by storm in one swift blow. These Avanguardias have made a nuisance of themselves: most of the population of Monaco has quietly fled across the border. I've gotten General Bousquet of the 3rd Division de Chasseurs Alpin to assist with processing the refugees." He paused. "Perhaps we should inform him of these... 'missing' Avanguardia combatants. They might have gotten cold feet and fled with the civilian populace."

He frowned, then gestured at the map. "The enemy has a very porous defense - several strongpoints surrounded by outposts. This Major Nazzari knows how to select targets at least, and send out appropriate pickets. His men appear to be keyed up and well-positioned - militarily trained at the very least. They appear to have a lot of activity at the Prince's Palace, but not as much as I would have expected. Much of the force seems to be guarding the Carabinier prisoners at the Barracks Moneghetti. There's also a group we've spotted - apparently with civilian hostages - on one of the yachts in the harbor. The Atmah."

"The Atmah? The yacht of Baron Rothschild?" Murail said in surprise. "Is the Baron aboard?"

"I don't know. My chief of staff is looking into that now. But other hostages are aboard. I don't know what the Avaguardias plan to do with them. I'm meeting shortly with several naval officers to discuss it."

"When do you plan to move in?" Murail said.

Raspéguy shook his head. "Yet to be decided. I expect to have my men in position before eighteen hundred hours, but I do not wish to move until later."

October 6 - 1500 Hours
Monaco

After parting company with Bottazzi and the rest of the men, Salvatore Bruscantini made his way across the French-Monaco border, where the French Chasseurs Alpins were processing refugees. Bruscantini did not avoid the French soldiers: he walked straight up to a group of Chasseurs. "Monsieurs," he said in his weak French. "My name is Lieutenant Salvatore Bruscantini of the Servizio Informazioni Militare; I was undercover with the Avanguardias. I have urgent information for your commander. Please take me to him right away."

Ah!

There is no faith among thieves...

Well, to be sure, if we wish to conflate Marxist terrorists and Italian undercover intelligence agents into the category 'thieves', then there seems to be no faith among them.

Quoted

Originally posted by Brockpaine
Well, to be sure, if we wish to conflate Marxist terrorists and Italian undercover intelligence agents into the category 'thieves', then there seems to be no faith among them.

At times it is difficult to determine where one leaves off and the other begins.

Servizio Informazioni Militare Headquarters, Rome

A dense cloud of smoke wafted out of the door as Gaspare Bartalotti entered the conference room deep in the confines of the building. Supressing a cough, he stepped into the room. One of the men seated at the table, cigar in hand, looked up as he entered. "Ah, Lieutenant Bartalotti do come in. What is the latest from Monaco and Agent Green?"

"We last heard from Agent Green approximently 3 hours ago. Bottazi is after something, most likely money or something quickly liquidated to currency. Agent Green expressed his *ahem*" Bartalotti coughed "Pardon me. Agent Green expressed his consern about what the French plans are. He will approach them as soon as he is able to get away." Bartoltti heard the door open again behind him, but did not turn to see who entered. "He recomended that we be ready to move after Bottazi soon, things are heating up."

The man at the table looked beyond him, "Major, I think that is you domain?" Bartoltti looked over his sholder at the man who had entered behind him.

The tall paratrooper spoke as Bartoltti looked him over. "We are ready to move after Bottazi if needed."

"Very good" the man at the table replied. "You are both dismissed, please return if we request it or if any new information comes up."

Bartoltti turned and got the door for the Major, who left without looking at the short inteligence officer and walked down the hall in the direction of the building's loading dock, combat boots hitting the floor in prefect step. Bartoltti went the other way, opting for the outdoors to clear his head of cigar smoke. Agent Green better still be alive, or I will never get anything this important again. he thought as his far from parade-ground steps took him away from the smokey room.

October 6 - 2000 Hours
Monaco

Major Nazzari was beginning to feel desperation creeping into his mind. The plan, at least the non-combative part of it, had belonged to Bottazi; and Bottazi and ten of his men were missing. Ten of Bottazi's closest men - the relationship was not lost on Nazzari. The French, of course, denied all culpability, and Minister Murail's protestations rang with an air of truthfulness. Which means, quite uncomfortably, that I and all of my men have been sold out, and Bottazi set us up before saving his own skin. It'd be just the sort of thing he'd do, too... the longer I've been in this organization, the more he's distrusted me. Maybe he finally decided to eliminate me. The French are preparing to deal with us - I can hear it in their demeanor. How can I survive this and exact my revenge on that swine?

"Get Albani, de Rossi, and Martelli here," Nazzari ordered his messenger. "Immediately. There's no time to waste."

Major Nazarri forgot one of the most important maxims of coup d'états

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

He was a decent battlefield soldier (Italian Army, then Persian Foreign Brigade). He's a lousy revolutionary.

October 6 - 2300 Hours
Monaco, Offshore

"Time check."

"2300 Hours, sir."

Capitaine Jean-Pierre Esteve nodded, but his demeanor was still very much keyed up. The Surcouf and the flotilla of torpedo boats around her had spent the day warning away the curious. Late in the evening, just before dusk, another boat had arrived with an officer who briefed Esteve on 'the plan'.

Esteve waited on the bridge impatiently before finally nodding to the officer of the watch. "Battle stations."



October 6 - 2327 Hours
Monaco, 13th RDP Headquarters

Colonel Raspéguy checked his watch. "Three minutes." He unslung his Modèle 42 submachine gun and checked the chamber. Satisfied, he raised a hand and gestured in the air; and a dozen muffled Steyr engines coughed to life. Raspéguy took a seat in the first vehicle.

"Go!" he commanded.



October 6 - 2330 Hours
Monaco, Prince's Palace

Major Nazzari fussed with the tap in the washroom, splashing cold water onto his face. I tried, I really did. But Albani wants to stay and fight it out, and he swayed the others into hanging on and seeing this operation through, even if Bottazi has abandoned us and probably set us up to die. Now they just think I'm a coward for wanting to surrender to the French. Pah! After all we've been through together, Albani called me, ME, a coward.

Nazzari suddenly paused, hearing an unfamiliar sound - some sort of regular thumping sound, like a giant slow-firing motorcycle engine. "What is that?" he muttered.



October 6 - 2332 Hours
Monaco, Over the Prince's Palace

Second Lieutenant Marcel "Bruno" Bigeard really would have preferred a parachute insertion, but given the size of his objective - a narrow courtyard in front of the Prince's Palace, he knew that wasn't possible. Three Corps Franc troopers - only half of Bigeard's six-man L’équipe, were crammed into the SH.22 Cigale as the pilot searched for the courtyard.

"There!" the pilot said, expertly twisting the helicopter around and brushing the trees and - Bigeard worried - some of the local rooftops. The wheels barely touched down when Bigeard and his two men leapt into motion, jumping out of the helicopter, pulling their gear with them.

The other two men in Bigeard's team immediately unfolded the bipods on their light machine guns, and quickly fed the belts into their weapons. The landing zone was three men wide. While the two machine gunners prepared, Bigeard took out a fistfull of flares and cracked them in half, throwing them as far as he could to denote the landing zone.

Avanguardias came out the front door to the Prince's palace as the second helicopter came in to land. The machine gunners opened fire and killed two of the enemy.

The second helicopter touched down, and three more men fell out, dragging their gear. The helicopter stayed on the ground less than five seconds. Bigeard, finished with the flares, then pulled out his two smoke grenades and tossed them down to provide a thin veil of concealment.

All three of the newcomers had submachine guns, but they had something more urgent for the success of the mission: scaling ropes.

Bigeard went up on one knee. "You three! Go! Covering fire!"

The three Corps Franc men got up and moved into the smoke with their scaling ropes, moving to the western edge of the courtyard, where the rocky outcropping fell precipitously down toward Fontvielle Harbour. There were black-clad Naval Commandos down there, quietly infiltrating the waterfront in black rubber boats; they would need to scale the cliff to help the Dragons Parachutistes who were arriving up top.

The third helicopter dropped off three more men, and then the fourth came in and dropped another trio. The Avanguardias in the Palace elected not to try to get out the doors after the fourth was buzzed down by the machine gunners. Instead, they started shooting through the front windows. Whenever Bigeard's machine gunners saw the flash of a submachine gun or bolt-action rifle in a window, though, they hosed the window down with tracer. In the darkness, the Avanguardias couldn't see their rifle sights, but tracer could be walked to a target like a fire hose.

As the fourth helicopter took off, an Avanguardia trooper on the roof found the range with a machine gun, and fired a full belt into the helicopter. Flames erupted from the engine compartment and the pilot, already in forward motion, angled his machine away to find an emergency landing zone. Bigeard saw the helicopter disappear from view over rooftops and trees, still burning.



October 6 - 2335 Hours

Monaco, SS Atmah

Lieutenant de Rossi, third in command of the Avanguardias, stood on the main deck of the Atmah, turning his binoculars toward the Prince's Palace. "What in the devil is going on up there?" he demanded. "Are the French moving in on us already?"

There was a glurgle from behind de Rossi, and the lieutenant turned to look at his assistant, who fell facedown on the deck with a spear sticking out of his back. On combat instinct alone, de Rossi leaped straight at the black-clad man with the now-empty speargun. He vainly tried to get a wrestling grip on the man, but he was clad in some sort of wet rubber suit that defied an easy grip. De Rossi was immediately reminded of wrestling with a greased pig. Somehow, though, he managed to plant his knee into the man's tender midsection, and the frogman folded up. De Rossi disengaged and fled towards the bow.

"It's La Decima!" de Rossi shouted. He knew the reputation of Decima Flottiglia MAS, and he wanted to get far away.

Two more French frogmen slithered over the side, removing their masks and rebreathers. "Are you okay, sergeant?" one asked.

"I've been better, Lieutenant Cousteau," the sergeant answered. "One of them escaped forward shouting a warning."

Cousteau nodded to the other man, and they unshouldered their spearguns. "We need to stop them before they do something to the hostages or the ship. Let's go."

To be continued...

Dun-den-dun-dun
Dun-den-dun-dun
Dun-den-dun-dun-da!

Good show!

October 6 - 2337 Hours
Monaco, SS Atmah

Lieutenant de Rossi sprinted back towards the bow of the yacht, where he'd posted his ten men with the few hostages they'd decided to hold. Three of the men startled when he came into the main bridge, and they nearly shot him before they saw his uniform. "What's happening?"

"They're coming," de Rossi snarled. "Frogmen aft. You six - take your submachine guns and go kill those frogmen. Manzoni, Sirioni - go burn our papers. Castaldi, go into the hold and scuttle the ship."

"How do I scuttle the ship?" Castaldi asked, clearly panicked at this chain of orders.

"Just go!" de Rossi shouted.

The men quickly dispersed to their tasks, leaving de Rossi and one of the Avanguardia men alone with the seven hostages.

"What do we do with this lot?" Sergeant Bresadola asked.

"What we should have done from the start," de Rossi said. He reached for the pistol on his holster, only to discover it empty. "What... Sergeant, give me your submachine gun."

"Sir, you're not going to shoot them, are you?" Bresadola asked. "They're unarmed men!"

"Just give me your submachine gun," de Rossi commanded, stepping closer. Bresadola recoiled. "Just like you to go soft on the enemies of the proletariat, Bresadola. Give me your submachine gun."

One of the hostages spoke up: de Rossi recognized him as Rainier, the heir to Prince Louis II. "Don't do it, sergeant. You know what he's going to do with it. I know you're an honorable soldier, and I'll vouch for you."

De Rossi snatched at the submachine gun, but Bresadola pulled back again and tried to hang on. Then Rainier and one of the other hostages - the captain of the Carabiniers du Prince - jumped into the fight. The Carabiniers captain seized de Rossi by the collar and the back of the belt, and with all his strength swung him around into a head-on collision with the wall. Dazed, de Rossi tried to fight back, but the Carabiniers captain had the advantage of leverage, and kept slamming his skull into the wall until he passed out. He would never wake up.

The Carabinier officer then cocked his head at Sergeant Bresadola, who was struggling half-heartedly with Rainier and one of the other hostages. "How about you be a good boy and give me your gun?" he said.

Bresadola nodded, his eyes on the crumpled form of Lieutenant de Rossi. "I'd be happy to surrender, signore," he squeaked.



October 6 - 2340 Hours
Monaco, Prince's Palace

"Hum, helicopters. I didn't foresee that," Nazzari said. He almost felt detached from what was happening around him. A dozen of his Avanguardia men were taking positions inside the front windows, shooting at the horde of French soldiers that were appearing on the front courtyard. His single machine-gunner had fallen silent, while the French had at least three of their MG37s in play.

The smoke grenades and the red-orange flares cast the scene in a sort of weird hellish light. Through the smoke came a dozen men with automatic rifles and submachine guns, bayonets fixed and honed; Nazzari's men fired at them, only to be overwhelmed. Unconsciously, Nazzari nodded at the French tactics: they carried forward their assault with teamwork and elan. They would have done so well in the Persian War. Discipline and training...

Nazzari withdrew into an inner room, and placed his Beretta and submachine gun on the floor by his feet while he lit a cigarette. The French paratroopers arrived twenty seconds later, pointing their guns at him with clear intention to shoot. Nazzari raised his hands and kicked his submachine gun away with his foot; he repeated the gesture a moment later with his pistol. "Je me rends, messieurs," he said reluctantly.



October 6 - 2340 Hours
Monaco, French destroyer Surcouf

Capitaine Esteve's destroyer moved into Monaco's main harbor at a stately pace, illuminating her searchlights and sweeping the waterfront with them. Although Esteve had the main battery manned, the 40mm and 12.7mm machine guns might see use.

A burst of rifle fire from the yacht proved this point. The powerful searchlights swung about and fixed on two brown-uniformed men trading fire with the black-suited frogmen who had infiltrated aboard. One of the riflemen tried to fire at the destroyer's searchlight. A burst from a machine gun sliced through the knot of Avanguardia men, cutting them down. More frogmen armed with spearguns and sheath knives moved in to finish cleaning up the mess.

"Sir! The yacht is on fire!"

Esteve looked more closely. Sure enough, in the pilot house, a red glow had started - and two men, one of them on fire, emerged with a howl.

"Break out the fire hoses," Esteve ordered. "Stand by to render assistance."



October 6 - 2345 Hours
Monaco, Moneghetti Barracks

Most of the Avanguardias had been gathered at Moneghetti Barracks, the home of the Carabiniers du Prince. Fifty men strong, they were led by the diehard Lieutenant Albani. When Colonel Raspéguy arrived and surrounded the barracks with a battalion of Dragons Parachutistes, Albani vowed to fight to the last cartridge and the last man. After he returned into the barracks, there was a single gunshot, and two Avanguardia troopers tossed Albani's body out the door. "Can we surrender now?" they shouted.

So much for stalwart revolutionaries...

There is the small matter of the bag man; I wonder what became of him?