The explosion's flames illuminated the road and the surrounding grassland. The scattered bodies, previously only a uniform gray of German soldiers, now also bore the significant hue of khaki. As one of the killers, Logan had taken out at least four or five British soldiers in just a few minutes. If he had been wielding an MP38 submachine gun, that number would surely have been much higher.
However, Logan was a man of self-awareness. A mere two days of firearms training were insufficient to turn a novice into an expert. The best guns were only as effective as the veterans who wielded them.
Personal achievements aside, seeing three Matilda tanks engulfed in flames filled Logan with pride, even more so than successfully ambushing the British Expeditionary Force headquarters!
But it wasn't time to celebrate yet. A shell landed less than 5 meters away from the anti-tank gun, causing even Logan, who was slightly further away, to be shaken. When he looked up, Stephenberg and several gunners beside him were already lying on the ground.
"Lent! Lent!" Logan rushed over anxiously, but another shell exploded nearby, its blast knocking him down. His right cheek and forehead stung with pain.
Although tired and heavy, Logan heard a voice in his head saying, "Logan, you're a fearless bastard. If you're going to lie down, do it on a woman's belly! Get up! There are plenty of beauties waiting for you ahead. Get up quickly!"
After what felt like seconds, Logan struggled to his feet. When he heard Stephenberg call "Lieutenant," there was an inexplicable joy in his heart. To make a difference in this era of war, one needed not only a reliable and capable unit but also trusted subordinates. With their extensive knowledge of weapons and steady demeanor, along with their humility, it was hard to find better candidates for someone like Logan, a newcomer to the military world.
"How are you, Lent?" Logan hurried over to help the lieutenant up.
Stephenberg shook his head. "I'm okay, just like taking a punch!"
"Similar to me earlier!" Logan quickly helped him towards the direction away from the road. At that moment, another Allied tank slowly approached the road, its machine gun spraying deadly bullets. Just then, a paratrooper wearing a helmet hurled a Molotov cocktail, igniting a bright flame on the tank's side.
Though the tank wasn't immediately disabled, its crew seemed panicked. As they clumsily reversed, trying to turn the turret to fire at the brave German soldier, they only caused chaos among the infantry following them. Some Allied soldiers attempted to put out the fire, but they were soon mowed down by German machine guns. Eventually, the tank's engine overheated due to the blaze, and a crew member attempting to bail out was shot before fully exiting the hatch.
Taking advantage of the intense firefight on the road, Logan escorted Stephenberg to a relatively safe area. Seeing no more chance for ambush, his paratroopers followed suit.
Counting heads, Logan realized there were only eight of them, with two needing assistance.
"Where's Tobias and Grott?" Logan asked hurriedly. "Is anyone left behind?"
Just minutes ago, they were firing boldly at the enemy, but now the paratroopers seemed exhausted, weak, and somewhat numb.
Mark Ellar, formerly a gatekeeper, carrying an MP38, said, "There seem to be a few more behind. I'll go back and check!"
Only Derek, an Air Force Private Second Class, echoed his sentiment.
Feeling a surge of anger, Logan entrusted Stephenberg to a nearby paratrooper and obtained a Mauser rifle from him. "Take care of the lieutenant. I'll go back to check! We can't abandon any comrades!"
Two paratroopers were ready to accompany their commander, but Logan refused stubbornly. "No, you guys stay here and rest! We'll be back soon!"
With that, he took Ella and Derek and jogged back towards the road.
The defensive firepower had been suppressed, but wary of the three tanks wreaking havoc earlier, the Allied tanks on the north side of the road didn't rush past the death trap. Instead, they cautiously advanced with infantry as the vanguard. Some brave German soldiers threw grenades at the road, causing a brief panic among the British, although they posed no real threat to the tanks.
"Tobias! Grott!" Logan called out for his two most familiar and valued paratroopers. Tobias was quick-witted, and Grott was one of the few versatile paratroopers. Their potential might not make them pillars of the unit, but they were undoubtedly reliable partners and subordinates on the battlefield!
As they approached the destroyed anti-tank gun, Logan finally heard a faint voice. "I'm here!"
"Tobias!" Logan jogged, crouched down, and quickly found the Air Force Lance Corporal on the grass. His left shoulder was soaked in blood, but thankfully, the rest of his body seemed unharmed.
With only two hours of battlefield medical training, Logan swiftly applied a bandage from the first aid kit to Tobias's wound.
"I got hit by a bullet. Just my luck!" Tobias murmured as he looked at Logan.
"Bad luck? Oh no, Tobias, you don't know how seductive the nurses in the hospital are! Once you're in, you won't want to come out!" Logan tried to comfort him.
"Oh, really?" Tobias's mood lifted slightly, but when a shell exploded nearby, he became despondent again. "Lieutenant, do you think we'll make it out alive?"
"Of course, we paratroopers are like the wind, unstoppable!" Logan exclaimed as he firmly applied bandages along with a hemostatic agent to Tobias's wound.
"Ah..." Tobias let out a cry of pain.
"Well done, lad, you're a brave one!" Logan praised him while scanning the surroundings. "Let's get out of here, to a safe place! Can you still move your legs?"
"I think so!" Tobias gritted his teeth.
Supporting his comrade from the right, this time it was Logan's turn to grit his teeth: Tobias didn't look heavy, but he was tall with a large frame, and his weight was surely no less than Logan's. However, when it came to the lives of their comrades, a little hardship or fatigue didn't matter at all. Fortunately, Tobias remained relatively clear-headed, and with no major injuries to his legs, the two quickly returned to the paratroopers.
Logan breathed heavily, taking advantage of the moment. While the paratroopers were tending to Stephenberg's injured head, it turned into a comical sight.
"Hey, Lieutenant, you're amazing!" Stephenberg gave him a thumbs up, indicating that the effects of the enemy's dizziness had naturally dissipated.
"Great job!" Logan turned to look, and even Derek had brought back a wounded soldier, but Mark was still missing.
"Mark is a good name, and he's a good soldier who doesn't speak much," Logan thought for a moment. "Lieutenant, you take the men and retreat first, I'll go back and see if there are any stragglers!"
"What?" Stephenberg looked northward, where more British tanks had already appeared near the road in the glow of fire. He strongly objected, "No, it's too dangerous! We might end up not saving anyone but risking our own lives! Moreover... there might not be any survivors left!"
"At least Mark Allen is still out there! I won't abandon any of our comrades!" Logan stood up resolutely. He was usually more rational than emotional, but when he was determined, he would spare no effort to do his best.
"But..."
"Follow orders, Lieutenant!" Logan firmly interrupted Stephenberg's persuasion. "Lead everyone to retreat towards Monck!"
"Monck..." The lieutenant seemed to have anticipated this outcome. Although it seemed like diving into the enemy's encirclement, on one hand, the retreat distance was shorter, and on the other hand, the strength and equipment of the Führer's Guard Regiment were almost equivalent to half of an ordinary armored division. Once surrounded, the High Command would never sit idly by and let this unit, bearing the title of "Führer," be annihilated by the encircled Allied forces!