Logan raised his hand and fired two shots in quick succession. This large-caliber revolver wasn't very effective for long-range shooting, but within 50 yards, it was quite a powerful individual weapon.
Seeing his target stumble and fall, Logan fired two shots towards another soldier nearby, a practice aimed at conserving ammunition. However, if marksmanship couldn't ensure a kill, it could lead to a disadvantageous situation. A British infantryman ahead clearly noticed the German officer with the handgun. He stood firm, raising his Lee-Enfield IV rifle. At such close range, there was no reason to miss!
Swoosh...
Bullets sprayed from the half-track armored vehicle turned the "plotter" into a sieve, saving Logan's grassroots life once again.
"Lieutenant! Get up here!"
Facing Stephenberg's second call, Logan finally left the trench and climbed onto the armored vehicle—this time with a completely different significance!
As soon as he climbed aboard, he shouted loudly, "German warriors, we will fight until the last moment, never retreat!"
The magnesium lamp flashed at an inappropriate time, recording the transformation from a rookie to a hero, but also exposing the position of the armored vehicle to enemy artillery!
Whoosh...
The sharp whistling pierced every nerve. Just standing there like a heroic commander, Logan suddenly found himself with nowhere to hide!
The front armor plate of the half-track armored vehicle was only 12 millimeters thick, barely capable of withstanding machine gun bullets and shell fragments. Against small-caliber anti-tank guns, it was as vulnerable as paper. Subconsciously, the Luftwaffe lieutenant crouched down. The subsequent explosion nearly deafened him. And that wasn't all; the second explosion that followed felt like a heavy hammer striking the nearly 6-ton armored vehicle.
The violent shaking caused Logan to once again intimately encounter the steel panels of the vehicle. His right shoulder joint throbbed with pain as if dislocated!
The battlefield was filled with smoke, ears ringing, head blank. But in just a moment, he remembered Stephenberg, the brave, resilient, and incredibly loyal Luftwaffe lieutenant—even though they had only worked together for less than two days!
"Rent! Rent! Are you okay?"
A cough came from the darkness. "I'm still alive! Don't worry!"
Logan breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed the handrail, and struggled to stand up. He peered out from the edge of the armored vehicle; the battlefield was still chaotic. German soldiers in the trench were still resisting fiercely, but ahead, he could see the distinctive flat steel helmets of British soldiers!
Was it ultimately unsustainable?
Logan's gaze returned to the armored vehicle he was on. The engine hood was nowhere to be seen, the burnt and broken engine still emitting smoke. Even the shield of the front machine gun was missing a corner. The shells had clearly hit the engine position—if they had landed a few inches further back, both he and Stephenberg would have gone straight home!
No time to celebrate. Logan took a step forward, intending to reach for the machine gun handle, but stumbled over something on the ground.
"Ouch!" Stephenberg groaned in pain.
"How are you?" Logan crouched down, using the light from distant explosions to see that the lieutenant's right cheek was covered in blood. He quickly took out the first aid kit from his body.
Stephenberg reached for the first aid kit himself. "Lieutenant, don't worry about me! See if the machine gun is still usable!"
With such a comrade, what more could one ask for?
Logan stood up resolutely. The machine gun still looked intact, with a belt of ammunition hanging from the receiver. The Luftwaffe lieutenant, a rookie from the 21st century, suddenly remembered a classic still from Sylvester Stallone in "First Blood."
But as he tried to pull the bolt, it jammed...
He tried again with more force, but it remained stuck.
Disappointed, he looked up and saw a Waffen-SS soldier throwing a grenade towards the trench. But in the blink of an eye, the soldier was shot down by incoming bullets, and the grenade's explosion, like a small stone thrown into a pond, failed to create much of a ripple, quickly fading amidst the oncoming tide of people!
Was this his first defeat after crossing over? Logan felt a sense of unwillingness. Twenty-four hours ago, he had led a team to eliminate a dozen British and French officers and was about to receive praise from the Führer; twelve hours ago, he had ingeniously opened a breach in the Allied defenses, allowing the Führer's guards to break free from historical constraints. And now, with hundreds of thousands of Allied troops trapped in Dunkirk and the German army about to achieve victory in the West, he was facing such a defeat?
Should he retreat, surrender, or die in battle? Logan hesitated for a moment.
Finally, the first British infantryman reached the trench, holding a rifle with a bayonet already fixed. He stumbled a bit, trying to steady himself, but in the swift and cheerful sound of swooshing bullets, blood spurted from his chest, and he fell backward...
Suddenly, the sound of swooshing grew louder. Logan turned his head in surprise to see several Waffen-SS soldiers with helmets and MP38 submachine guns firing as they charged towards the trench.
Looking further, hundreds of Waffen-SS soldiers were running, and several armored vehicles were driving towards them.
Dietrich's reinforcements had finally arrived!
Although the entire Monk was still surrounded by the enemy, and these reinforcements were only drawn from other positions, Logan was ecstatic to the point of madness: as long as they held the position and prevented the Allies from entering the town, the flying Stukas would shred these Allied troops to pieces at dawn!
However, the British and German soldiers who had already reached the position were not going to let an apparent victory slip away easily. They charged forward, engaging in face-to-face bayonet combat and even more direct hand-to-hand combat with the Waffen-SS soldiers in the trench. As a result, the Waffen-SS soldiers rushing from the town couldn't take advantage of the continuous fire of their submachine guns!
Seeing the situation deadlock, Logan roughly estimated that there were probably over a thousand British infantrymen attacking. Most of them would soon reach the trench. Considering the one-to-one consumption of close combat, the German side should have no fewer than a thousand men, and with the arrival of these reinforcements, there might still be a shortfall. With this thought in mind, the flame that had just ignited in his heart suddenly dimmed: it wasn't easy to turn the tide!
He slammed the position of the machine gun, hoping to fix it accidentally. However, the cold metal object remained unyielding, unaffected by his efforts.
"Lieutenant, there's still a box of grenades on the vehicle!" Although he couldn't stand up, Stephenberg seemed to have seen through Logan's thoughts and knew where his annoyance lay.
Logan bent down to search, but before he could find it, he noticed a shadow creeping into the carriage.
"Brits?" Logan quickly reached for his revolver.
"Hey, Lieutenant, it's me!" The voice wasn't particularly familiar, but Logan seemed to dislike it... it was Marco Ross, that selfish guy!
Immediately after, another shadow tumbled in, clumsily.
"Ouch! That hurts!"
Logan recognized him, the annoying war journalist, who seemed to have no strength at all – the bespectacled guy (even the heavens wear glasses, crying out loud)!
"Seriously, now? You guys... throwing grenades?" Logan held an M24 long-handled grenade in his hand.
"Of course!" Marco Ross replied, grabbing a grenade from the ammo box and tossing it out forcefully (wouldn't it be great if you could just pick these things up casually?).
"Not that hard!" The bespectacled man mimicked, throwing one as well. Though compared to the powerful bombardment of the British warship earlier, the explosions from these grenades were rather "gentle."
"Throw forward, the farther, the better!" Logan estimated that there were still plenty of British infantry running towards the trench about thirty to forty meters away. Using grenades to kill them not only avoided friendly fire but also reduced pressure on subsequent troops.
"Got it!" The bespectacled man said decisively, not hesitating at all. Although his movements weren't exactly precise, he managed not to drop the grenade at his feet.
The selfish guy and the bespectacled man threw their arms with force, joined by Logan, as if engaged in a fun competition.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The consecutive explosions gradually drowned out the sounds of the soldiers' battle. Although they were just like pebbles thrown into a pond, with enough of them, even small ripples could disturb the entire pond. The two young men joyfully continued to throw German-style long-handled grenades, joking that if all these explosive weapons could be exchanged for the same amount of gold, they might have knocked out several trucks of beauties by now!
Whoosh... Boom!
In the last moment before losing consciousness, Logan felt as if he were riding a roller coaster, with a Buddhist saying popping into his head: "What sorrow in life, what sorrow in death."