In the mountains of Sicily, German Gebirgsjäger and Italian Alpini stood shoulder to shoulder as they held back the American advance.
From enemies during the last war, men who once cut each other's throats with bayonets in the frozen trenches of the Alpine passes; they had become an elite brotherhood of mountain soldiers.
Now they shared the burden of lead and blood together in the Monti Sicani.
It was almost laughable how bitter enemies so easily became brothers when a new foe arrived, forcing old hatreds to be repurposed against a shared nemesis.
The chugging roar of MG-34s and MG-42s bounced through the rocky pass as Panzerfausts slammed into the lumbering American armored column.
The U.S. tanks slogged through the unstable terrain, engines overheating, treads snapping on jagged stone, their formations collapsing under the brutal efficiency of Central Powers mountain infantry.
