Bread, pea soup, and canned beef, these simple yet filling foods opened the appetites of the exhausted paratroopers. At this moment, few of them were still longing for the delicious meals and soft beds in the rear — things they should have been enjoying if they hadn't encountered the British ambush on the way!
"I thought the Brits were just focused on fleeing for their lives, didn't expect them to dare launch such an attack! Quite unexpected!" Mark Allen said as he quickly spooned food into his mouth, holding a can of beef in one hand.
Even Lieutenant Stephan Berg, with bandages wrapped around his head, was grumpily nibbling on bread, despite his command of the artillery crew having destroyed two British tanks. The latter part of the battle, however, fell short of expectations; it seemed they still had a long way to go to meet the standards of being "elite paratroopers".
Corporal Derek, finishing a box of soup in big gulps, burped loudly and asked, "Do you think the Brits will come all the way here?" No hesitation.
"They'll come if they have to, can't drive them away; they won't come if they shouldn't, can't invite them!" replied Logan, almost appearing behind Derek without a sound, nearly startling the relaxed guy.
"Oh, Lieutenant, didn't hear your footsteps!" Derek patted his chest.
"That's because my ancestors evolved from felines!" Logan served himself a box of soup and some bread, sitting down beside Derek, munching away without caring about appearances.
Perhaps it was exhaustion or maybe the physical exertion was just too much, but the nausea from the bloody scenes hours ago had disappeared. Logan even felt that getting a bit banged up wasn't a big deal; filling his stomach was the priority.
After satisfying their most basic physiological needs, Logan visited the wounded subordinates at the field hospital set up in the church. Including Tobias and Grott, there were now five paratroopers forced to lie in bed. For them, the battle was basically over, waiting only for the road between Monk and the rear to reopen to be sent back. As for the time to return to the battlefield, the quickest, judging from their injuries, would still take about a month, while the longest... might take several months!
Exiting the church, he lit a cigarette. The late May night was still chilly, and Logan walked aimlessly, hearing the clear sound of his boots on the gravel road. He thought to himself: Derek, this guy, obviously wasn't paying attention, yet dared to say I walk soundlessly. But this lad's still loyal and brave, a soldier you can rely on!
Late into the night, the German mess trucks had long ceased operations. The paratroopers could enjoy hot soup, thanks to Dietrich's kindness in arranging it for them. However, there were still splashing sounds from the well, and faintly, several busy figures could be seen. Logan walked over to take a look and found a pile of military mess tins on the ground. Oh dear, these Germans aren't afraid the French might poison them? If there were tens of grams of potassium chloride, the Führer's Guard would be in trouble!
Ignoring the French's understanding or not, the SS soldier, leaning against a nearby wall, watched them coldly with his steel helmet on and submachine gun in hand.
With little effort, Logan recognized the frail "Petite Sophie Masse". The French girl was wiping the German military mess tins with a rag, which looked much bigger than her small hands.
"Hey, Lili!"
The girl turned her head in surprise. "Is it you?"
"Yeah, had a bit of trouble on the way... so I turned back!"
This "little trouble" wasn't small at all, considering Logan's departure was still in good military order, but now, not only were there two more circles of gauze on his head, but his clothes were also wrinkled, and his pants below the knees had several big tears. However, despite his casual tone in conversation, his expression had become much more stable than before, and his deep blue eyes seemed even more profound. Upon careful consideration, the whole person exuded a kind of awe-inspiring feeling — and these internal changes had occurred within just a few hours, imagine the experience that only a few could go through!
The French girl didn't care about Logan's "trouble" at all. In a pleading tone, she said, "We're so tired! Really tired! Can we rest for a while?"
"Of course! Why not?" Logan blurted out.
"Great!" "Petite Sophie Masse" immediately relayed the news to others — the old man, old woman, middle-aged woman, and children all let out a relieved "oh" and casually threw their mess tins on the ground, causing a clattering sound that immediately attracted the "fanatics" responsible for guarding them.
"What are you French pigs doing? Trying to die? Keep moving! No rest allowed!"
Regardless of whether the French understood or not, the SS soldier approached, cursing in German rudely.
Logan calmly turned around. "Don't worry, buddy! They're just tired, let them rest! By the way, judging from your accent, you seem to be from Bavaria?"
"No, Swabian!" These were two distant states, so their accents wouldn't be too similar. Logan then pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and the SS soldier didn't refuse, taking one out and handing back the pack.
Logan gestured generously, "You keep it," he said. "British goods, not bad!"
The young and robust "fanatic" quickly stuffed the cigarette pack into his pocket. In the military, cigarettes, especially good ones, were hot commodities.
After just one puff, he nodded and said, "Hmm, pretty good, thank you!"
"Don't mention it!" Logan glanced at his watch; it was already past three in the morning. "These old, weak, sick, and disabled people can't do much work! Even after we knock down both the French and British, are we afraid of lacking labor?" No hesitation.
The "fanatic" wasn't stupid either and agreed, "Hmm, that's right!"
The two chatted about some trivial matters, and the SS soldier said he was going to take a nap and seemingly casually mentioned to Logan: landmines had been laid around the town!
Logan knew exactly what that meant, and he calmly walked back to the well. The French people were sitting on the ground resting, their eyes still showing some fear when they looked at the German officer, but the hostility had clearly diminished.
"It's okay!" he said in French, looking at "Petite Sophie Masse," his top-notch little girl.
"Thank you!" This time, the French girl sincerely thanked him.
Logan sat down gently beside her, trying not to look like a terrifying "creep."
"Grandpa and grandma can't walk, and we don't have a car!" Sophie Marceau said with a gloomy expression.
"What about your parents?"
"My father is a sailor, and my mother passed away just after giving birth to my little brother!" The girl said as she touched the youngest boy, who had fallen asleep surprisingly quickly.
Unfortunate circumstances, thought Logan. With France already defeated and under German occupation, their lives were bound to become even more difficult.
"If it's possible..." Logan's words were cut off by a sudden explosion in the distance.
The SS soldier who had claimed he was going to take a nap suddenly bolted out, looking towards the direction of the sound. He then glanced warily at the French people and said to Logan, "Lieutenant, it sounds like a mine! Maybe someone is trying to escape!"
The explosion was indeed isolated. Logan suddenly realized that if it wasn't a prisoner attempting to escape, it was highly likely to be an enemy attack! Considering the slow pace of the Matilda, it would only take a couple of hours for the enemy to advance from the previous battle site to Monk, and given the possibility that the enemy might not thoroughly clear the battlefield and instead swiftly advance eastward, they could easily be on the outskirts of Monk by now!