Jonas and his group cautiously approached the drop point of the weapons crate and soon spotted the glowing glow sticks in the distance. During night jumps, glow sticks were attached to the weapons crates; during the day, smoke grenades were used to help paratroopers locate them.
"Found it!" one soldier exclaimed excitedly, about to rush over but was pulled back by Jonas, landing on his rear.
Jonas shook his head, observing the surroundings through his binoculars. "The drop point of that crate is too convenient. If British soldiers are hiding in the grass behind it, we'd be shot the moment we approach."
The crate had landed in an open area, but less than fifty meters behind it was a patch of waist-high weeds.
Jonas sensed danger.
One soldier, skeptical, said, "That's too much of a coincidence, isn't it, sir? We're outside the town; there shouldn't be any British here at this time, right?"
Jonas shot him a stern look, reprimanding, "Sometimes, it is just that coincidental. Remember, being cautious a hundred times might keep you safe, but one careless moment can cost you your life." After observing for a while longer, he ordered, "Get the submachine guns; we'll circle around behind that grass. If no one's there, all the better; if there are, we take them all out!"
They split into two groups, carefully making their way around from both sides to the back of the grass.
As expected, Jonas spotted British soldiers lying in ambush in the grass, patiently waiting like hunters for their prey to walk into a trap. Unfortunately for them, they never imagined six gun barrels were already aimed at their backs.
"Open fire!" Jonas roared, pulling the trigger on his Scorpion submachine gun, unleashing a barrage. With a rate of fire exceeding 800 rounds per minute, the 30 rounds in the magazine were emptied in less than three seconds.
In just three seconds, the six submachine guns fired 180 rounds at the eleven unsuspecting British soldiers. Some were hit by dozens of bullets, instantly killed, while the luckier ones were severely wounded, struggling to see who had attacked from behind.
They had come out to search for German paratroopers and found the German weapons crate. The squad leader decided the Germans would come for it and set up an ambush in the grass.
They didn't expect to meet death instead of their prey.
Jonas reloaded his submachine gun, muttering, "These guys were somewhat clever, but clearly inexperienced. They didn't even cover their backs." With more soldiers, had they had an experienced commander who positioned some to watch their rear, Jonas and his men might have been the ones at a disadvantage.
Their oversight allowed Jonas and his men to sneak up silently.
One of the soldiers, still shaken, said, "Sir, thanks for being cautious; otherwise, we'd be the unlucky ones."
Jonas gave a nonchalant smile. "You'll become as cautious as me after surviving a few life-or-death situations. Alright, no more dawdling, let's get the weapons." They quickly pried open the crate, taking out an MG3 machine gun, a mortar, and two Panzerfausts. With six of them, one carried the machine gun, another the mortar, two carried ammunition, and the last two took the Panzerfausts, providing cover.
"Let's go, to the church!"
While Jonas and his men dealt with the ambushing British squad, fierce battles were taking place elsewhere. German paratroopers aren't superhuman; they suffered casualties, but compared to British losses, these were minor.
Since the Germans didn't land in one spot but were spread out, many defense points couldn't withstand even a single wave of attack from German paratroopers, either falling quickly or leading to British soldiers fleeing or being killed on the spot.
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The air was thick with the nauseating smell of blood. Isaac, ignoring this, pulled a grenade from his chest, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the window above him, which was spewing continuous machine gun fire. He then rolled away to avoid the blast.
"Boom!" The explosion shattered all the windows, silencing the machine gun, replaced by the anguished cries of the British soldiers inside.
"Not dead yet?" Isaac frowned, concerned that the soldiers still had some fight left, and threw another grenade, this time with a fragmentation sleeve on it.
Hand grenades can broadly be classified into defensive and offensive types. Simply put, soldiers on defense can throw grenades and retreat to cover, so "defensive grenades" rely on shrapnel, with greater explosive power. Offensive soldiers, lacking cover, use grenades that primarily damage through shock waves, with a smaller effective radius; these are "offensive grenades."
The M24 stick grenade was almost synonymous with the German army in WWII, but Wilhelm had long discarded these complex stick grenades in favor of thin-skinned, pressed-metal oval grenades.
Because of their thin casing and large explosive content, these grenades had far greater power than the M24. Wilhelm also ordered the development of a fragmentation sleeve that could be attached to the grenades. The sleeve had two layers of steel balls of different sizes and was elastic, making it easy to put on or take off. Not only could German oval grenades use it, but so could round or cylindrical grenades from other countries.
Thus, German standard grenades could easily switch between defensive and offensive roles.
"Boom!" After another explosion, the room went completely silent.
After waiting to ensure there was no movement, Isaac cautiously stood up to peek inside. He saw six British corpses strewn about, two of which were gruesomely mutilated, the others also in a pitiful state, riddled with shrapnel.
Confirming they were indeed dead, Isaac waved to the men at a distant corner. Soon, a squad of German soldiers ran over. The captain leading them looked inside, then patted Isaac on the shoulder. "Well done, Isaac, you'll get a medal for this."
This British defensive position was cleverly located, and without heavy weapons to destroy it, they were pinned down. Isaac's timely action in taking out this machine gun nest was crucial; otherwise, if the British had brought in a mortar, this entire group could have been wiped out.
With this critical point breached, the German soldiers cut through the British line's flank, causing the already shaky defense to collapse. "Retreat! Retreat!" the British commander realized too late and hastily ordered a retreat. Perhaps his shout revealed his position, or maybe he was just unlucky, but a grenade rolled to his feet, silencing his commands forever.
The result was a one-sided massacre where nearly a platoon of British soldiers fell to the German paratroopers' guns. It seemed neither side considered the option of surrender.