Logan followed behind the broad-shouldered British colonel without glancing around as they entered the castle. The interior was quite exquisite in its furnishings, but for a young man who had no knowledge of European countries beyond the language, accurately distinguishing between British or French styles was unrealistic.
The spacious main hall was almost filled with various machines—telegraphs, printers, telephones, and more. Several officers of varying ages were busy at work, and a female secretary wearing a sailor-style military cap and a khaki skirt approached, holding a black folder in her hands. Her prominent bust and the white thighs beneath her skirt were undeniably enticing, a uniformed temptation!
The main hall and the side hall were connected by a corridor less than five meters long, with a guard standing by the wooden double doors, rifle at his back. Crossing the corridor, the light inside became significantly brighter. Against the opposite wall hung a large operational map, with an officer standing on a ladder drawing various colored symbols on it.
"All right, find Heverlee, yes, in Belgium, and mark it with a red cross. The Germans launched an attack there 20 minutes ago but were repelled!" The officer at the bottom of the ladder said emotionlessly while flipping through documents.
Before a set of wooden double doors, the colonel paused, gently pushing open the right one, saying something to the people inside before turning to gesture for Logan to wait.
At the moment the door opened, Logan heard several people inside engaged in a heated argument, mixing English and French, a sensory assault.
Taking off his cap, Logan straightened his collar. Meeting high-ranking officers always required attention to appearance, and he certainly didn't want his German Luftwaffe uniform peeking out.
After a while, another officer emerged from the room, a burly figure with a thick mustache. In the lamplight, his insignia and epaulettes gleamed with golden light. This man's photo had been studied by Logan many times before he arrived; he was none other than Lord Gort, the commander of the British Expeditionary Force. According to the historical timeline, he would be returning to Britain in a few days, to be replaced by General Alexander, the commander of the 1st Army of the British Expeditionary Force.
"Major, I heard you have vital intelligence concerning the fate of tens of thousands of British soldiers?" He looked calmly at Logan, fatigue evident in his bloodshot eyes.
"Yes, sir. We withdrew from Lille this afternoon. At dusk, we noticed a large-scale movement of German tanks to the east, so we conducted a risky small-scale raid. This information was found in the document pouch of a German signalman!" Logan took out a document paper from his personal briefcase. Needless to say, it was also forged overnight by the German intelligence department—apart from the content, the material must be completely authentic.
Gort carefully read through the contents and then looked at Logan with a peculiar expression. "Major, I suspect you've been deceived by the Germans! Their armored units cannot penetrate our defenses from the east! In fact, we have more troops and favorable terrain on that side for defense!"
"But the German armored column bypassed the seemingly impassable Ardennes Forest to attack us from the east!" As Logan spoke, he noticed the previous colonel looking at him with surprise and quickly added, "Forgive my presumption, sir! But... I believe the Germans no longer need false documents to confuse us! If they use their armored units to separate us from the troops retreating here from Belgium, the situation will be very dangerous for us!"
"Is this what you mean by the fate of tens of thousands of British soldiers?" Gort fell silent for a moment, then handed the paper with the eagle emblem to the officer next to him, and shook hands with Logan. "Regardless, I thank you for bringing this intelligence, Major. Leave the decision-making to us, and you can rest now."
Logan respectfully saluted in British fashion and was led out of the castle by the previous colonel, passing through the side hall, corridor, and main hall, and finally exiting the castle.
Just as the captain was about to return the pistol to Logan, the colonel suddenly said, "Major, please give my regards to Colonel Mirand, on behalf of me!"
Logan turned around very seriously. "Sir, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. Our current regimental commander is Colonel Florence Kellan, Colonel Mirand retired last year!"
"Oh... I'm terribly sorry! It seems my information is too outdated!" The colonel said expressionlessly.
Taking his pistol back, Logan walked past the guard without looking back. Lieutenant Steffenberg approached, whispering in English, "How's it going?"
"The alert is very weak! After the attack began, I personally led 14 men in, while you and two machine gun teams stayed here for suppression fire!" Logan made combat arrangements without hesitation.
"No problem! When do we start?" It seemed that the lieutenant also eagerly anticipated a battle, especially one targeting the enemy headquarters, which held greater significance.
Logan didn't give a direct answer. "Do you think the Air Force will come to bomb tonight?" Without skipping a beat.
The lieutenant whispered as they walked, "Well, according to the plan, they should come at least four times tonight, at 1 o'clock, 2:30, 4 o'clock, and 5:30. It's almost a quarter to 4 now."
Logan was taken aback. Did Stefenberg really not see the signal to halt the operation?
"As the saying goes, plans always fall behind changes! Let's hope our bombers won't encounter any other troubles!" Saying this, Logan had already reached the spot where the paratroopers were waiting. He waved his hand, signaling everyone to follow him towards the city area—of course, this was just for the benefit of the guards.
After walking along the gravel road for nearly 10 minutes, estimating that they were out of sight of the guards, Logan ushered the paratroopers to a concealed spot by the road. He checked his watch and kept an eye on the situation at the castle. This road seemed to be the only connection between the castle and the outside world.
4 o'clock arrived quickly, but there was not a single sound in the sky. The "Black Elf" that had been burning fiercely on the sea surface was no longer visible, and it was unknown whether the ship was still stuck in the channel or had been taken away by the Allied forces before it sank completely. Lacking knowledge of navigation more than that of land and air forces, Logan couldn't make a more accurate judgment.
At a quarter to 4, the German air force's bomber squadron still hadn't appeared. Logan simply let Stefenberg arrange for the paratroopers to take turns resting. Since the command had decided to cancel Operation "Potassium Chlorate," the original bombing arrangements were likely to be canceled as well. All Logan could hope for now was for "Old Sticky Rice" to hold his ground over there.
If they couldn't wait any longer, Logan thought, they would have to launch a strong attack before dawn!
At 4:20, two cars with French flags drove along the road toward the castle. Five minutes later, a third car appeared, with what seemed to be the same tricolor flag on the front.
Gradually, the originally dark night sky began to show signs of light—the time of dawn was starting to advance in early summer!
At 4:40, the piercing air raid siren finally sounded from the east, a sound everyone detested, but to Logan, it was a call to action. He quickly called the paratroopers to prepare for battle. When the buzzing of aircraft engines could already be heard, he led 14 paratroopers swiftly toward the direction of the castle. Lieutenant Stefenberg led the remaining four paratroopers and two Bren light machine guns to set up a blockade—although the killing power and consistency of these weapons were naturally incomparable to the German MG34, the special nature of this operation required them to use relatively unfamiliar British weapons.
There were still over twenty meters to the gatehouse, where the guards had obviously noticed the approaching "dangerous elements" armed with weapons. At a critical moment, Logan shamelessly shouted in his Scottish-accented English, "Guys, hide quickly! The Krauts' bombers are coming! Stay concealed!"
Luck was on their side. The two Vickers Mark I machine guns didn't open fire. Taking advantage of the guards' hesitation, Logan and his paratroopers rushed forward and quickly took out the unlucky ones here. The French drivers sitting in the cars tried to escape, but they were also directly taken out by the paratroopers who came from behind!
The battle seemed unusually smooth, to the point where Logan almost let his guard down. But he caught a glimpse of a shadow flashing inside the gate, and he raised his hand and fired. The first British lieutenant who came out to receive them fell against the wall, clutching his chest.
Although the gunfire exposed the battle, it was at this moment that the nearby anti-aircraft guns began firing heavily at the German bomber group already flying over the harbor. Logan was overjoyed and waved his hand, "Charge in!"
The paratroopers rushed in. For this group of elite soldiers who had undergone long and strict training, the officers and civilians inside were like lambs in a tiger's mouth!
In the moment before rushing into the hall, Logan suddenly had a wicked thought: I wonder what kind of expression that tempestuous British secretary would have when she was in extreme fear? The epitome of uniform temptation, isn't it just like the legendary **?