Perhaps Dietrich never intended to extract any information from these cowardly French civilians, or perhaps the "enthusiasts" were in good spirits after easily winning a victory, as their attitude towards these French civilians was relatively decent. They simply ordered them to fetch water from the well and carry it over to the mess truck. Meanwhile, the British and French prisoners of war had it rough, not only digging trenches covered in dirt, but also having to watch out for the German guards' rifle butts and sticks!
Half an hour later, the vanguard of the artillery battalion arrived. While Dietrich commanded his soldiers to construct defenses on the spot, he directed the artillerymen to position the cannons to the north of the town. According to the map, the town of Mönke was only about ten kilometers from the port of Dunkirk, theoretically within range of field howitzers.
"Hurry up! Set up the gun positions! Bring the ammunition wagon over here! Corporal, get your men to unload the shells quickly!"
The artillery commander, not particularly tall but obviously impatient, urged his men on. Under his prompting, the Waffen-SS gunners took less than a quarter of an hour to position four howitzers into temporary firing positions.
"These are Rheinmetall-manufactured 18-type howitzers, 105 millimeter caliber, weighing approximately 2 tons in combat. With high-explosive shells, the range can reach up to 11 kilometers!"
Logan turned his head in surprise to find his deputy, Lieutenant Brent Stefenberg, calmly observing the Waffen-SS gunners.
How come this guy seems to know so much about every weapon on the battlefield?
Logan was envious of this. If he could inherit some memories from the real "Hans Logan" when he crossed over, at least he wouldn't be as clueless as he was now!
The artillerymen quickly stacked shells with fuses next to the cannons. After adjustments, the muzzles of these howitzers were already raised high. However, Dietrich, standing nearby, seemed in no hurry to order them to bombard Dunkirk. What was he waiting for?
The overcast sky obscured the setting sun, but judging by the light, it would be dark in at most an hour and a half. A gentle sea breeze blew in, and Logan suddenly had a strange thought: why couldn't people live peacefully with their families, watching the sunrise and sunset together, rather than engaging in brutal wars?
The next moment, Logan dismissed this fantasy. The law of the jungle remained unchanged throughout history, and the temptation of power and wealth was too great for few rulers to resist. Even if he were to ascend to the pinnacle one day, he might still reveal his ambitions to weaker countries!
Lighting a cigarette and elegantly taking a few puffs, he suddenly heard a faint buzzing in his ears. Logan initially thought it might be Stuka or Messerschmitt, but when he turned his head, he found it was a sleek green-gray aircraft, no more than 5 kilometers away. It circled at a height of no more than a few dozen meters from the ground before finally landing on a grassy field to the north of the town.
Lieutenant Stefenberg muttered to himself, "Fi-156, 'Stork,' manufactured by Fieseler Company, specializing in battlefield reconnaissance and liaison. It can adapt to various adverse takeoff environments and has strong short-range takeoff and landing capabilities! Currently widely deployed for army use!"
Logan had never paid attention to this type of aircraft before, but he noticed that the Waffen-SS soldiers had already set up a swastika flag on the grassy field where it landed. Looking at Dietrich's calm expression, he understood what was going on: this should be the aircraft summoned to provide calibration for the artillerymen!
To ensure the accuracy of long-range artillery fire, real-time calibration of the firing points was indeed necessary. In this situation, Logan became even more envious of Dietrich, the commander of the Führer's Guard. Having bombers for bombing, reconnaissance planes for reconnaissance, the efficiency was so high that it was beyond the reach of ordinary armed forces!
"Sir, the aircraft was attacked by enemy ground fire halfway through the mission. Both the pilot and the radio operator were injured, and I'm afraid they won't be able to continue the mission!"
In the armored command vehicle, an officer held a phone and seemed to be in contact with personnel on the grassy field.
"What?" Dietrich's face sank. "Damn it, don't they know how important this mission is? Didn't they know to fly higher when crossing enemy lines? Damn it! They're going to mess things up!"
The officer in the car put the receiver back to his ear. "Oh, sir, they said the aircraft and radio are fine, as long as we can find someone to fly it!"
"Fly it? Where am I going to find a pilot now? Do they think everyone here is Hermann Göring?" Dietrich's first reaction was anger, but he seemed to immediately remember that there were Luftwaffe officers nearby, so he looked at Logan.
Logan heard their conversation and immediately understood what the "leader of the enthusiasts" was thinking. Without hesitation, he asked Stefenberg, "Who among us can fly that kind of aircraft?"
Stefenberg said, "Tobias and Karenberg have received basic flight training, and they might be able to do it! Uh... and me, I'm a licensed amateur pilot!"
"Send a car to take us over!" Logan shouted to Dietrich.
"Leader of the enthusiasts" breathed a sigh of relief. In his eyes, Luftwaffe Lieutenant Hans Logan had become a lucky star sent by God!
Logan called Tobias and Karenberg over. When they parachuted in, both of them were pilots. However, Tobias said he had never flown anything other than gliders, and although Karenberg had worked in an aircraft factory, he had never flown a powered aircraft solo.
Seeing Logan hesitating, Steinfelberg volunteered, "Why don't I go? At least I've flown old biplanes for a few months!"
Initially, Logan wanted the deputy commander to stay behind and take care of the paratroopers. But then he thought, the operation was already over, and the paratroopers just needed to wait to go home. As for Steinfelberg, his knowledge of various weapons might unexpectedly come in handy during artillery calibration.
"Do you know anything about ships?" Logan asked abruptly.
Steinfelberg responded somewhat puzzled, "My father was a navy man. He was obsessed with ships, collected naval ship catalogs and postcards with their images, even some of the newest warships launched in recent years! So..."
"Alright, Lunt, I admire you too much!" Logan pulled him onto Dietrich's armored vehicle and said to the SS commander, "One of us will fly the plane, and the other will handle the calibration!"
"You two..." Dietrich was surprised.
"Yes, we'll be the best duo in history!" Logan said confidently. Despite Steinfelberg not being an outstanding pilot and Logan being inexperienced in radio communication and observation for calibration, what did it matter? When Adolf Hitler strategized at the high command's sand table, he didn't have even an hour of commanding experience!
The distance from headquarters to the field was only two or three kilometers. After they got off the vehicle, they saw the original pilot and observer liaison both being treated by the military doctor. It seemed the pilot's injury was more severe; his head was wrapped like a giant dumpling, similar to Stutgent's. The observer had injuries on his arms and legs but could still go if needed. As for the plane...
"Darn! And they say it's not a big deal? Driving a car without a windshield is painful enough. I can't imagine what it would feel like to fly this thing! After one trip, will my face still be recognizable? Maybe even my mom won't recognize me!" Logan's complaint was not unfounded. The front glass of the "Stork" was only half left. Flying at over 200 kilometers per hour, the wind blowing in would feel like sharp knives. Whether his face would deform was a minor issue; if he accidentally lost balance, falling off the plane would be disastrous!
Dietrich also found it exaggerated. He asked his subordinates, "Can it be temporarily repaired?"
The answer was no. This wasn't a car, and repairing a car required specialized tools, right?
This time, Dietrich didn't get angry. "Forget it, I'll ask the military for another reconnaissance plane."
Logan's temper was always quick to come and quick to go. He asked, "How long will that take?"
"It's hard to say," the "fanatic leader" thought, "Maybe an hour, maybe until tomorrow!"
Logan shook his head. Time was precious now. Every hour, hundreds or even thousands of Allied soldiers would flee Dunkirk. Even if the number didn't reach the astonishing 338,000 as in history, according to Logan's initial estimate, as long as the number of evacuees exceeded 200,000, the results of the Potassium Chloride Operation so far could only be considered a tactical victory unrelated to the overall situation.
Steinfelberg returned from the pilot and said, "It's okay. After takeoff, we can maintain a speed of about 150 kilometers per hour. Even without a windshield, it won't cause too much trouble!"
"150 kilometers?" Logan thought for a moment. Motorcycles could reach that speed on the road. So, he said to Dietrich, "Get us two pairs of windproof goggles!"
"No problem!" Dietrich immediately instructed his aide to do so.
Logan walked quickly to the observer lying under the tree. "Tell me the essentials of calibration!"
The observer, with blonde hair and a slightly thin face, said, "It's simple. If the shell falls far, you say 'far' via radio. If it's close, you say 'close.' Then estimate the approximate distance. Of course, the more accurate, the better! You need to distinguish between 'left' and 'right.' Follow the direction of the shell; that's your left and right hand, otherwise, you'll need to reverse it! Also, the radio frequency has already been set; there's no need to adjust it anymore!"
Although the explanation was a bit convoluted, Logan felt fully capable of handling this temporary role.
A few minutes later, Steinfelberg also successfully started the aircraft.
"Hans, take care of yourself!" Dietrich handed over goggles typically used by motorcycle infantry, speaking with emphasis.
"Don't worry! I've got plenty of life left in me!" Logan chuckled, figuring he'd already "died" once; if he bit the dust again, who knows, he might end up as some ancient emperor?
Under the watchful eyes of the Waffen-SS soldiers, the "White Stork," which had originally landed smoothly, awkwardly ascended in a manner that caused some concern. If those soldiers could hear the conversation between the two officers on the aircraft, one wonders what they would have thought:
"Hey, Rentz, sorry, how do you turn on this radio?"
"Hey, Rentz, I'm in charge of operating this machine gun, right? Where's the spare ammunition?"
"Hey, Rentz, is that our fuel gauge? There doesn't seem to be much fuel in there. Will it be enough for a round trip?"