There is a special feature of Italian grenades, that is, if the safety plug is not completely pulled out, you just need to insert it back to its original position to recover.

Mussolini and Badolio knew this, so they immediately inserted the safety tether and re-tightened the safety cover. As long as they were not thrown out again, the grenade was in very safe condition.

Mussolini held the grenade and showed it to the people around him, like a beautiful souvenir. At this moment, he tried his best to act like a fearless tough guy, thereby offsetting his previous panic-looking image.

The Italian dictator raised his chin high and glanced at the panicked people around him with contempt. The photographers quickly surrounded him and rushed to take a picture of the scene in front of him. The title of the photo was already thought of, and the Italian Prime Minister despised death, just like the heroes of ancient Rome.

"Only the most cowardly and vulgar people choose to assassinate this method." Mussolini shouted loudly.

"The Italian people, like you see now. They chose the wrong method. They should not use this method to defeat me, nor should they be afraid of it. Let these incompetent clowns tremble in the dark corners. I will pull them out of the holes where they hide, expose them to the sun, and then use leather boots to crush them like worms." Mussolini handed the grenade to the guard standing by the car, and then waved his arms vigorously.

"No one can defeat Mussolini! I am the leader of Italy! My people love me! Only traitors and conspirators want to kill me!" Mussolini shouted, and the black-shirted soldiers around him expressed their responsive agreement.

"Long live Mussolini!" a black-shirted soldier shouted.

"Long live! Our leader! Long live! Mussolini!" An arm suddenly stood up around the Italian Prime Minister.

"Long live! Italy!" Mussolini raised his right arm to return the gift. He was extremely satisfied with his performance on the spot.

But the next second, a blood suddenly burst out from Mussolini's collar, and black shirt debris and bright red blood beads splattered in the air. Then, the Italian Prime Minister fell head-on into the convertible carriage in full view of everyone.

The murderer was a teenage boy. He was wearing a somewhat large Montenegro shirt. He mingled in the Montenegro army and approached Mussolini and shot him at only two meters away from the Prime Minister.

He used a single-shot craft pistol that was the size of a palm. This exquisite weapon was mostly made by hand. It was once very popular among Italian ladies and ladies. They could hide it in small handbags and use it to defend themselves when encountering accidents. However, in order to facilitate women's operation, this weapon is generally very small in diameter and has only one or two rounds of ammunition, so it can only serve as a deterrent effect most of the time.

The boy was holding one of them, with a caliber of only five millimeters, but because the shooting distance was too close, the bullet did not reduce its kinetic energy at all, and accurately opened a hole in Mussolini's throat.

The boy opened his mouth and seemed to want to shout some slogans, but before he could shout the second letter, he was thrown to the ground by a group of soldiers from the Black Mountain Legion beside him, followed by a violent punch and kick.

Mussolini curled up in the back of the car, her head leaning on Bardoglio's knees. The marshal felt a warm liquid that had wet his pants and was flowing down his calves toward the floor.

The Supreme Imperial Marshal of Italy was completely shocked. He looked at Mussolini who was lying on his legs blankly, feeling every struggle and painful breathing of the other party. Bardoglio had no idea what was going on or how he should react.

A companion wearing the Italian Army Lieutenant Colonel's uniform jumped into the carriage. He grabbed Mussolini's shoulder hard, moved him away from the marshal's leg, then straightened Mussolini's body again and carefully examined the Prime Minister's injuries.

"The bullet penetrated Mussolini's trachea and esophagus, and almost hit the back spine." Weirle reported to Xu Jun.

"The person who examined his injuries was ours, so we knew the details of the injuries. Mussolini was unable to hold on to the hospital and swallowed his last breath on the way. In fact, he died of suffocation. How could that be said, drowned in his own blood. Because there were no rescue equipment on the scene, the blood flowed into his trachea and blocked his breathing. It only took thirty seconds." Weirle clapped his palms back and forth.

"I have seen many similar gunshot wounds on the battlefield. If you are lucky enough to meet an experienced military doctor, then you have a 30% chance of surviving, but there are always a very small number of lucky people, and most of them have not survived. This way of death is very miserable." Feng Boke said with his cheek in his hand.

"He shouldn't die like this. I don't mean he shouldn't die, but just died of such a despicable assassination as a national leader like him." Keitel stroked the hair on the back of his head.

"What should we do now? This is not a small matter. Will his death affect our plan?" Braushich picked up the small pancakes that had nibbled half a piece of fennel in the dish in front of him.

"Don't worry too much. We've been fully prepared." Weirler took off his monocle and stuffed the report back into his pocket.

"Believe me, soon the successor we booked will come to the door to seek our support and protection." Weirle held his knee with one hand and bowed to pick up the teacup from the table.

"Who are you talking about the successor?" Longdsted asked curiously.

"The Supreme Marshal of the Bardoglio Empire." Weirle didn't keep it a secret and said this name calmly.

"This coward?" Feng Boke looked down on the behavior of betraying his companions the most.

"Don't say that, Marshal Bok." Xu Jun laughed, and he placed the cigar on the ashtray.

"We are talking about the future Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Italy, not to mention that his current military rank is higher than any one in this room." Hearing this, everyone present burst into laughter.

"Actually you can promote yourself to the Imperial Marshal, my head of state." Longdested said with a smile.

"Do you think I'm very fat?" Xu Jun deliberately bulged his cheeks, which aroused laughter in the hall again.

All the marshals here know that Gorene once proposed to increase the rank of Imperial Marshal, purely to satisfy his personal vanity. However, based on the merits established by Xu Jun for the country, becoming an Imperial Marshal is completely worthy of his reputation.

"The rank of an imperial marshal has never appeared in German history. I will not set this precedent for myself." Xu Jun said with a smile, and several marshals nodded in praise.

"Order the German troops stationed in Italy to enter the first-level combat readiness and be ready to occupy the vital areas at any time. Strictly block the border, and prohibit any Italian planes from taking off before receiving further orders. At the same time, order all planes flying over Italy to land immediately at the nearest airport." Xu Jun pondered for a moment with black tea, and then issued a series of orders. Several adjutants quickly took out their notebooks and started recording on it.

"Are you preparing for clearance?" Weirle asked.

"Prevent some people from escaping from this country indiscriminately. I hope this order will not be issued too late." Xu Jun said.

"Hannagan, go and get the radio station in and contact the commander's communications office immediately and ask them to issue orders to the Roman headquarters immediately." Braushichi ordered his adjutant loudly.

"As for orders, sir!" Colonel Hannagan hit his heel of his boot, turned around and rushed out of the room quickly.

"Send a telegram to Qusirel, and Rome immediately entered martial law. The troops were ordered to closely monitor the Italian military camps and military police. Without the consent of the German Command, more than one platoon of troops were prohibited from being mobilized. After 8 o'clock in the evening in the city, citizens were prohibited from moving on the streets. Those who dared to violate the situation will be punished depending on the severity of the circumstances." Xu Jun continued to order.

"Curruff, is this necessary? My Head of State." Longdsted asked.

"I think it is very necessary, Marshal. Now is an extraordinary period, which can avoid a lot of trouble. I believe that the news of Mussolini's death has spread in Italian society. I don't know how many people are waiting for such an opportunity. I want these people to understand that without my permission, no one can cause unrest in Italy. The guy who dares to provoke our authority has no value to survive. The National Defense Forces will be happy to take off the heads of such idiots and use them to maintain the dignity of the German Empire." Xu Jun pulled out a cigar from the paper cigar box, and Diesenhofen neatly lit the match.

Xu Jun then issued several orders, all aiming to maintain the stability of Italian society. Germany had already obtained what it needed from Mussolini. Italy was regarded by Xu Jun as an important asset of the empire. How could some unsightly bastards allow for trashing indiscriminately?

When the meeting ended, it was getting late outside and what we should do was done, so Xu Jun did not want to rush back to Berlin.

The commander transferred large communication vehicles and mobile vehicle generators from nearby bases, and arranged a battalion guards around the farm. The military police set up cordons on the road outside the woods to check the driving documents of all passing vehicles, which made them catch several unlucky guys who slipped out of the barracks and wanted to relax in the nearby town.

At this time, the Farm of Von Heinzberg almost became a temporary command center, and the National Defense Forces performed amazing efficiency here.

The grass outside the yard was full of military vehicles, and the most conspicuous one was the head of state. The chrome-plated alloy armor shone under the surrounding headlights.

A large tent was set up in the yard, and officers in straight uniforms lined up in front of the field kitchen chariots.

From time to time, a communication soldier carried a file bag and jumped onto two motorcycles briskly. Then, with a roar of a motor, he rushed out of the farmyard gate.

"Willer." Xu Jun stood on the balcony on the second floor of the small building, watching the lively scene in the yard.

"Yes, my head of state." The Army Lieutenant General replied respectfully.

"I need to know the details of how Mussolini died." Xu Jun turned his face and looked at his chief of staff.

"It was indeed a gunshot death, but" Weirle's mouth showed a strange smile.

"Lieutenant, go and drive us out of here!" The lieutenant colonel hugged Mussolini's body and shouted loudly to a guard who was at a loss by the car.

"As for orders, sir." The lieutenant responded. He quickly saluted the lieutenant colonel in the back seat, then opened the door of the driver's car and dragged the dead driver out of the driver's seat.

"Turn right after going to the street." Lieutenant Colonel ordered.

"Don't you go back to the Prime Minister's residence? Sir!" The lieutenant turned his head in surprise.

"You're crazy, the assassin will likely arrange an ambush on our way back." The lieutenant colonel shouted. "The Prime Minister was seriously injured and needed immediate surgery. Do you know where the nearest hospital is?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then take us there immediately!" Lieutenant Colonel covered the wound on Mussolini's throat and shouted loudly.

The Fiat convertible kept ringing its horns, and with the help of a group of black-shirted soldiers and guards, they rushed out of the crowd and drove to the street next to the palace.

"How is his situation?" Bardoglio seemed to have just woken up from the panic, and he looked at the lieutenant colonel nervously.

"The bullet penetrated the esophagus and may also scratch the trachea. Fortunately, it did not hurt the aorta. If he could continue to be awake and breathe independently, and we could arrive at the hospital in time, he would have a great chance of survival." Lieutenant Colonel pressed Mussolini's wound with his hand.

At this time, the Italian leader was dying. His mouth was covered with blood and was still flowing out of the corners of his mouth. However, he could also breathe through his nasal cavity. The frequency of his breathing was a little rapid, and his mind seemed to remain awake.

The Italian dictator seemed to want to say something at this moment, but only the puppy whimper was making, the bullet holes in his throat were still bleeding a lot, and pink foam emerged from the fingers that pressed the wound.

"Did you do it?" Bardoglio asked in a low voice, using a bit stiff German.

"If I said it wasn't what we did, would you believe it? Your Excellency Marshal." The lieutenant colonel replied in German.

"I know you will definitely get rid of him, but I didn't expect it to be so soon." Bardoglio said.

"It's not ours, Marshal, we won't use such rough and direct means, and there is no beauty at all." The lieutenant colonel let go of his hand that pressed the wound and put Mussolini's own hand on it.

"You can hold on to the wound with force and you can hold on for half an hour." Lieutenant Colonel said in Mussolini's ear.

"So what's going on?" Badorio felt despised and he asked in a low voice with some anger.

"He has too many enemies, and I don't know which side of the attack was taken, but it's not bad now, but it's not a lot of our hands and feet." The lieutenant colonel turned his face and looked at Bardoglio.

"What do you mean?" The marshal's expression became nervous again.

"That's what it means." Lieutenant Colonel stretched out two fingers and pinched Mussolini's nose.

The dictator's eyes widened in horror. Blood loss and lack of oxygen made him lose his resistance. Mussolini tried hard to breathe, but could not breathe in any air at all.

So the sticky blood in his mouth was sucked into the trachea, and Mussolini immediately began to twitch violently. At first, he could swing his arms and struggle for a few times, but soon lost consciousness due to suffocation. Just under the fearful gaze of the Supreme Empire, the Italian dictator finally kicked his right leg hard, and then stopped breathing forever.

"Look, dear Marshal, as I said, there is no beauty at all." Lieutenant Colonel let go of Mussolini's nose and wiped his blood-stained fingers on Bardoglio's sleeve.

ps: Things went smoothly. I finally didn’t have to ask for leave today. I updated the normal time. Please give me monthly tickets, recommend, clicks and subscriptions.
Chapter completed!