"Prime Minister, the coastal observation posts report that the Germans have launched a large number of bombers again." In the British wartime headquarters, an officer put down the phone and reported to Churchill.
A few days ago, the British radar stations were completely destroyed by German forces, and now Britain lacked the resources and time to rebuild them. Air defense had to revert to primitive methods, relying on visual and acoustic detection during the day and only acoustic at night. The coastal observation posts had just reported hearing numerous engine sounds in the sky, though visibility was poor, there were at least a hundred aircraft.
"What do you think?" Churchill, looking extremely worn out, glanced at Dowding beside him, his voice hoarse. He no longer had the vigor of when he first took office months ago, nor the bravado of "laughing off the destruction of enemy ships with a wave of his hand." His sparse hair, unwashed for who knows how long, clung greasily to his scalp, his droopy eye bags looked large and dark under the cold light from the ceiling, making him look twenty years older than when he started.
Speaking of weariness, Dowding wasn't faring much better. Since the royal family remained in London, high-ranking officers like him couldn't move either. London was bombed day and night, forcing them to take refuge in basements. Dowding hadn't seen much sunlight recently, his complexion was a sickly pale, and he appeared listless and drained. Of course, everyone else in the headquarters looked similar, or rather, everyone in London did.
"It might not be bombers..." From the intelligence received, the number of aircraft deployed by the Germans tonight far exceeded previous instances, which made Dowding uneasy. Given the intelligence suggesting that the Germans were preparing for an invasion, could it be happening tonight?!
"Could it be paratroopers?" After a moment of thought, Churchill, with his hoarse voice, ordered, "Issue an immediate communique to all forces in my name, 'Wellesley'." As mentioned before, "Wellesley" was a prearranged code meaning "the invasion has begun."
The last time they issued a false alarm, distributing ammunition and supplies to frontline soldiers, only to find out the Germans had no intention of landing, half of the food had already been consumed, wasting a significant amount.
Hoping this time it was real, Churchill couldn't help but feel a bit of relief. If the Germans kept up the siege without attacking, Britain would collapse within a year. But at this moment, the British Empire still had the strength to fight; if they could thwart the German landing, perhaps the U.S. would see hope and join in.
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Jonas's squad finally approached the town's central church, spotting figures moving near it from afar.
Before they could shout the password, a shadow suddenly called out loudly towards them, "High Mountain!"
This code relaxed Jonas, who shouted back, "Strong Pine!"
The church had been set up as the battalion command post, establishing a foothold there. Jonas met his superior, and after a brief report on the combat situation, the commander got straight to the point. "Can you and your team still fight?"
Jonas nodded without hesitation. "No problem, sir."
The commander nodded in satisfaction, leading him to a map on the wall. "This is a captured enemy operational map; you can see the British artillery emplacements. Though they are old relics from the last war, they still pose a threat to the beach. Your mission is to take them out. There are eight positions in the area; I've already sent out seven teams. I can only allocate two squads to you now. Can you complete the task?"
Jonas looked over the British troop deployments; they seemed to be second-line units with fewer numbers. "Shouldn't be a problem, sir. What do we do after clearing them out?"
"You can rest there and await further orders."
"Yes!"
As Jonas and his team prepared to leave, five more paratroopers joined them, bringing the total to roughly a platoon's strength under Jonas's command.
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While Jonas was leading his makeshift squad to converge on the church, the London wartime headquarters received new intelligence.
"Prime Minister, Prime Minister, the Germans have dropped a large number of paratroopers!!"
"Quick, tell me where!" Paratroopers were the vanguard; knowing their drop zones would make it easy to infer the German landing points, allowing for targeted troop movements.
The officer swallowed hard, delivering the despairing news. "Large numbers of paratroopers have appeared in Plymouth, Dover, and Norwich!!"
"What?!" The Germans were not playing by the book, deploying paratroopers across three different areas. This unexpected move left everyone stunned in the midst of troop mobilization. "Plymouth, Dover, Norwich?!"
From the map, it was clear that Plymouth is in the southwest of England in Devon, while Norwich is in the east. The straight-line distance between them is nearly 500 kilometers. Dover, closest to Calais in France, is only 34 kilometers away, seemingly ideal for a German amphibious assault. But the Germans must know that Dover is a heavily fortified "iron fortress" with the natural barrier of the White Cliffs of Dover; attempting a landing there would be suicidal.
But what if Crown Prince Wilhelm was cunning enough to land precisely at Dover? Then again, if they concentrated their forces at Dover, might they be falling right into Wilhelm's trap?
Fine beads of sweat appeared on Churchill's forehead; he knew well that in these critical moments, hesitation was a luxury they couldn't afford. He believed Dover's defenses were strong enough, and Norwich didn't have a large port suitable for German landings, so even if he misjudged, there was room for recovery.
"Send troops to Plymouth to block the German landing forces!!" May God bless England! Norwich's only port was already garrisoned with three divisions, reinforced by an additional regiment a few days ago. With the existing fortifications, even if the Germans managed a costly landing, they'd only gain a damaged port, unusable for a while.
Dover? The Germans hadn't yet cleared all the mines in the English Channel; their fleet wouldn't dare enter rashly, so even if the Germans landed at Dover, they'd lack naval artillery support.
That leaves Plymouth as the most immediate danger.