May 5, 1936.
The Fall of Addis Ababa
The morning was quiet, unnaturally quiet.
Captain Arturo Bianchi crouched behind a ruined stone wall, his uniform stained by five months of dust and blood.
The sun was rising over the Ethiopian plateau.
Every few minutes, the noise of an reconnaissance plane broke the silence.
Bianchi turned to his radio operator.
"Any word from forward scouts?"
The man shook his head. "No resistance so far. The capital looks...empty."
Bianchi exhaled. "That doesn't make sense. Even rats bite when cornered."
Behind him, the column waited.
Italian infantry, several tanks with scorched paint, trucks overloaded with supplies, E
Eritrean Askaris standing silently with rifles on their backs.
General Rodolfo Graziani had radioed the order himself from the southern front.
"Advance cautiously. Occupy city perimeter. Await De Bono's signal from the north."
But De Bono had already been replaced in January Mussolini wasn't patient with slow wars.
