WWII military commentator? Even a dog could be one.

72 The absurd experiences of war correspondent Cook

Sean and Henry Ford chatted for a long time, but barely drank a third of the bottle of red wine. They enjoyed the relaxation more than anything else.

"Breaking news! Breaking news! Italy launches a fierce attack on the Alps! Its army is storming the French lines! Winter is coming!"

"Sir, buy a copy of the Washington Post, and Sean Wayne's curse will end."

Listening to the newsboys' desperate hawking downstairs, are the Italians up to something again?

Sean rubbed his eyes, and then he heard Henry Ford shouting from the balcony.

"Hey neighbor, did you hear that? Italy has finally gone to war."

Damn it, can't people just get a good night's sleep?

Sean got out of bed, drew back the curtains, and felt a cool breeze as sunlight streamed in from outside.

Standing on the balcony, Sean felt the breeze blowing in his face.

"Hey Sean, here's today's newspaper."

Henry Ford picked up the newspaper and threw it over from next door.

Sean picked it up and almost died laughing.

[Old Mexican: We launched an attack on France, which was fierce, swift, and unstoppable.]

Sean's curse will be broken, and the world will understand the power of Italy.

There were even pictures accompanying the speech.

Several Italian mountain soldiers, wearing peaked caps, carrying rifles, and cloaks, stand on a mountain peak, waving flags. This is a photo of the Border Wolves.

Wow, Italy really knows how to promote itself.

Germans don't really do that kind of thing.

The Mexicans know how to have fun; they actually staged a photoshoot?

Sean was so angry he laughed.

"Sean, Italy looks fierce. Be careful, the legend might be shattered, haha," Henry laughed at the critic.

It seems that everyone likes to nitpick their own mistakes.

Unfortunately, they couldn't do it themselves. After Paris was occupied, the French refused to give an inch even when facing an Italian army several times their size. In the end, the Italians suffered thousands of casualties and retreated in disgrace.

This battle, which lasted only four days in history, was like a farce, with the French unleashing their pent-up anger.

Paris still exists, France has not been completely defeated, and the morale of the soldiers is not like that of the past. Italy can only win with a miracle.

Sean shrugged at Henry and tossed the newspaper back.

Turning back into the room, I heard a knock on the door.

"Sir, room service."

Sean pulled up his pajamas and opened the door, whereupon a waiter pushed a food cart in.

Sean took out a one-dollar tip.

"Thank you, sir."

Sean opened the lid; it contained roast meat and tortillas.

It looked pretty good, and just as Sean was about to take a bite, he noticed, strangely, that the waiter was still there.

"Is there anything else?"

"Mr. Sean, has your curse worn off?"

The waiter asked cautiously.

Haha, "I swear, my curse hasn't failed."

"Really? Then Italy is definitely going to lose, right?"

"almost."

"Great! Can I have a share of your curse?" the waiter said, extending his hand.

Sean shook hands with the other person.

The waiter laughed happily, "Haha, this is Sean's curse. I'm going to ask for a raise, and if the boss doesn't agree, I'll tell him it's Sean's curse."

Sean's mouth was agape. Are you serious?

"Sir, I was just joking. I'm a loyal reader of yours."

Many people are talking about whether the Shawn Wayne myth can continue.

After all, Italy is the only country that has defied the curse and successfully made Sean look foolish.

The Italian Alpine border.

Airplanes roared through the clouds.

Cook watched excitedly, pointing to the sky, "The plane is here!"

"Yes, they are great. You have to understand that this is the Alps, the surrounding environment is very harsh, there is turbulence, and it is very difficult for ordinary pilots to handle."

Really? "That's fantastic, Italian pilots are amazing."

"Yes." The Italian soldier nodded excitedly.

Cook picked up his binoculars and looked at the Cherneye Fortress in the distance. The French had held out for most of the day and the fighting was still going on. The French seemed to have vented their anger, as the shelling and machine gun fire never stopped.

A dense barrage of aerial bombs rained down from the sky, making the entire mountain seem to tremble.

The plane roared past on the horizon, its sound echoing through the air.

The Italians on the ground waved their hands, shouting and jumping with joy.

Even Cook seems to have been infected.

He looked into the distance, where it was as if hellfire was washing over the ground, and the French positions were surrounded by smoke and flames.

"My God, this is terrible. This is war. I don't believe anyone can survive."

The power of the bombing raids completely overturned Cook's understanding.

"charge!"

As the plane departed, the Italians once again grabbed their weapons and charged toward the Seinee fortress.

Cook clenched his fist. "Sean Wayne's defeat is just around the corner."

Bang bang bang bang!

Gunfire erupted again from the mountainside and peaks, and artillery roared. The French proved with their actions that we were still fucking alive.

Bullets rained down like a tidal wave, and rows of Italians fell to the ground.

Cook was stunned.

"How is that possible?"

Sean was actually quite accurate. Italy lacked dive bombers, and its largest fleet consisted of biplanes from World War I. Because Italian bombers could only bomb horizontally due to airflow, they could hardly damage the French fortified strongholds.

To be more precise, their penetration depth is insufficient, and their accuracy is also poor.

Even the most elite Italian mountain troops couldn't withstand machine guns and artillery.

The French have made a full recovery on the spot.

The Italians, who were charging forward in a daze, were dumbfounded. The enemy's firepower had not only not weakened, but had actually increased. Had they bombarded the area for half an hour without even scratching it?

The blood mist shimmered in the midday sun.

"Help."

"I want to go home."

As the Italians' morale crumbled, a group of French infantrymen charged down the mountain with their weapons in hand.

"Glory to France."

Cook was stunned. "Damn it, we've been countered!"

Cook swallowed hard, took out his notebook, and struggled to write down what he had seen and heard.

I am Cook, an American war correspondent, and I witnessed the Alpine campaigns in Italy and France.

This was a battle that, though seemingly insignificant, was incredibly fierce.

The bravery of the French gave me a new impression.

Of course, there are also Italian pilots, who are able to fly steadily in high-altitude environments and carry out combat missions; their skills are top-notch.

They carried out a terrible bombing raid on the Sheneye fortress.

My God, it's like a scene from hell.

What impressed me most was that they did almost no damage to the French fortresses.

After finishing writing, Cook glanced back at the battlefield. He missed home. The war, the pain, the death made him miss his hometown of Brooklyn even more.

Cook made the resolute decision to leave.

December 1940, 6.

Sean is visiting the Lincoln Memorial.

Suddenly, the cries of newsboys rang out from the street outside the gate.

"It's reversed, it's reversed, Sean's curse continues, this is the personal experience of Alpine war correspondent Cook."

Italy's fighting strength is truly baffling; Sean Wayne was right once again.

Sean Wayne?

"Has the confrontation between Sean and Italy come to a conclusion?"

Many people stopped and bought a newspaper out of curiosity.

What impressed me most was that the Italian bombing did not damage the French fortresses.

Hahahahaha!

Countless people were reading the newspaper and laughing out loud.