"Which one of you is Lieutenant Hans Rogan?"
As this slightly hoarse voice came from behind, Rogan was busy handling a Lee-Enfield Mk IV rifle, which was left behind by the British sergeant earlier. Although a large-caliber revolver could exert greater power in close combat, in trench warfare, a rifle was obviously more effective!
"Oh, that would be me. And you are..." Rogan turned around to see a physically fit, round-faced SS officer in his forties. Based on his own understanding, Rogan regarded this unit as "fanatics," so their commander was naturally the "fanatic leader." Of course, the ultimate leader was the mustachioed Führer himself!
"Joseph Dietrich, Commander of the Führer Bodyguard Regiment!" The "fanatic leader" reached out his right hand, "Lieutenant, you've done us a great favor!"
Rogan modestly replied, "Just a small trick, nothing grand! The British seem to have caught on already!"
"Oh?" The "fanatic leader," looking to be in his forties as well, seemed surprised. "You mean... you tricked them into leaving instead of them retreating voluntarily?"
Rogan chuckled, "Those Brits wouldn't leave for no reason! In fact, we raided the British Expeditionary Force headquarters in Dunkirk last night, killed twelve British and French officers, including Viscount Gort, and used their radio station to play a little game. We even forged a few fake orders! Tobias, bring over the codebook and those officer's IDs!"
The Air Force sergeant quickly brought the "Bible"-sized book along with the IDs of twelve British and French officers to Rogan, who then handed them over to the "fanatic leader."
"I hope this helps!" Rogan said generously.
The other man was ecstatic, "My God, Lieutenant, you're sure to receive the Iron Cross for this! No, even the First Class Iron Cross isn't enough to commend your achievements! I'll report directly to the Führer!"
Rogan just smiled calmly. The combat effectiveness of the Führer Bodyguard Regiment wasn't that important to him, but this man seemed to be quite something. Being the commander of such a unit, Dietrich was evidently not a simple character.
The "fanatic leader" called his adjutant and ordered him to report everything that happened here to the High Command immediately in the name of the Führer Bodyguard Regiment, strongly recommending all units to launch a fierce attack on the Allied lines while their command structure was in disarray.
"It seems victory is within reach!" Dietrich exclaimed happily, clenching his fist.
Whoosh...
"Take cover!" This time, Rogan quickly pushed Dietrich down into the trench. Although the shells fired from the British side ultimately fell on the other side of the canal, the SS commander was still grateful.
"Lieutenant Rogan, you're my lucky star! I owe your paratroopers another one! Thank you so much!"
Rogan brushed the dust off Dietrich's shoulder and said sincerely, "If we're talking about gratitude, we should thank the High Command for approving this risky operation, thank the Air Force Command for their strong support, thank General Kurt Student for his straightforward advice, and finally, thank God for watching over us!"
Dietrich laughed heartily, "My friend, you're quite an interesting person! Ultimately, shouldn't we also thank the Führer for his wise leadership? And speaking of General Student, I still feel guilty to this day!"
"Oh? How so?" Rogan asked.
"Don't you know?" Dietrich said, "My bunch of idiots shot General Student by mistake during the battle in Rotterdam, and for that, I had to dismiss several officers!"
Such a thing happened? Rogan thought, he only knew that General Student was injured, but never thought about how he got injured. Sometimes, gossiping a bit was good for mental health.
Whoosh... Whoosh...
Several more shells came, raising large clouds of dust in front of the positions originally built by the British. In front of the positions, the returning British infantrymen were organizing a new round of attacks, but apart from finding some field guns to assist, it seemed that all they could rely on was the extraordinary courage of their officers and men!
When the British infantrymen advanced to within a few hundred meters of the positions, Dietrich finally ordered to fire. In an instant, dozens of MG34 machine guns roared together, the legendary "sound of tearing linen" intertwined with the crisp sound of rifles, instantly making the British feel the negative magic of "low morale"!
Rogan fired his Lee-Enfield Mk IV rifle repeatedly, but every time he pulled the trigger, the target either fell immediately or already toppled backward. After firing a row of bullets like this, Rogan knew he probably hadn't achieved a single kill. At this moment, it seemed like he had traveled back again, from the World War II advocating rapid maneuver and armored warfare to the trenches dominated by machine guns in World War I: under the dense firepower of the German Maxim machine guns, British and French soldiers were mowed down like ripe wheat!
Amidst the crisp sound of machine guns, the German officers and men who had been stuck on the other side of the canal for a long time could finally breathe a sigh of relief, while those unprotected British infantrymen were in dire straits. The dense rain of bullets wove a fire net on their path, and every step forward came with an extremely painful price. Churchill and Gort tried every means to preserve more living forces for Britain, but these young and healthy soldiers fell in batches in the wilderness covered with weeds. Countless British mothers who lost their sons and British women who lost their husbands would weep by the channel day and night!
A few minutes later, the MG34 machine guns finally stopped their roar, and there were a large number of shell casings lying around the machine gunners. In less than ten minutes before and after, not a single standing figure could be seen in sight. In front of the positions, the number of bodies lying in all directions was so great that it was difficult to count for a short time, and some survivors remained in a prone position. As for the unlucky ones who were wounded but not killed, they could only moan in pain helplessly, hoping to be rescued soon.
"Since machine guns have been extensively deployed in combat, launching a frontal assault on the enemy's positions with just infantry is extremely foolish!" Dietrich said to Rogan with a serious expression. "But just a few hours ago, I had to drive my own men to do such stupid things. Lieutenant Hans Rogan, from today onwards, all the officers and soldiers of the Führer Bodyguard Regiment will be your most reliable friends! If you encounter any trouble, just come to me!"
"I just did what I had to..." Rogan suppressed his inner joy and said sincerely, "As for you and your unit, I've always held you in high esteem! Having such friends, I personally feel honored!"
After suffering heavy casualties in two consecutive charges, the British infantry on the opposite side dared not take another step forward but began to dig trenches from a distance. Dietrich paid no attention to this. He ordered his troops to speed up crossing the river while discussing the deployment of the British and French forces in Dunkirk with Rogan based on the battle map they seized from the British Expeditionary Force. The battle map, as well as the information gathered along the way yesterday night, now became valuable intelligence.
Dietrich and his staff officers huddled together for a long discussion, with Rogan encouraging them from the sidelines. Finally, they reached an important conclusion: considering the ultimate goal of the Allies to conduct a large-scale evacuation from Dunkirk, they neither had the intention nor the strength to maintain the current defensive circle. With the German ground forces pressing forward step by step, they were bound to retreat to Dunkirk and construct smaller and more solid defenses to hold out, buying as much retreat time as possible for other units.
In the end, Dietrich forcefully circled a point on the map with a red pencil and pointed to the center of the circle, saying, "Here, Monk! We need to embed ourselves firmly here, like a nail stuck in the Allies' rear, making them restless! In at most 24 hours, our friendly forces will come pressing in from all directions on the ground, crushing this egg!"
Rogan found this metaphor quite apt. Glancing at his watch, it was already 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Looking across the canal, the engineers of the Reichsführer-SS Guard Battalion had finally erected the first pontoon bridge, and the second one was already taking shape. Amidst the rumbling roar, two German tanks slowly crossed the pontoon bridge, with faint blue smoke wafting around them like the morning mist.