It was late at night, and both humans and animals had long grown weary, with only the crickets and insects in the grass still chirping tirelessly.
Along the sandy roads of the fields, two soldiers dressed in sandy-yellow uniforms and carrying long rifles rode their bicycles leisurely. The light from the flashlight attached to their bikes flickered, serving as the only source of illumination on this starless, moonless summer night.
"Another quiet night!" remarked the older of the two, his dry skin not much better than the mummies in the museum.
The younger soldier, with freckles dotting his face, around twenty years old, chimed in, "Yeah! No matter how arrogant the Germans are, they can't drive tanks across the English Channel! Since there's nothing happening, why don't we find a place to rest for a while?"
The seasoned soldier responded indifferently, "Well, you never know with war! The Germans still have a powerful air force, don't they? Anyway, I think since the French have surrendered, we don't need to stand firm against the Germans. Signing a peace agreement would make everyone happy, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah! Hey, I remember there's a small pavilion up ahead. Let's head there and take a break," said the freckled soldier with a yawn.
"You fool, sleeping by the roadside? What if someone passes by and finds us?" scoffed the seasoned soldier disdainfully.
"What's the big deal if someone finds us? Corporal Cliff isn't going to come out at this hour anyway!" retorted the freckled soldier.
The seasoned soldier chuckled dryly, "There aren't many people in town. If someone sees us sleeping while on duty, you can bet it'll get to Corporal Cliff's ears before dinner tomorrow! With his temper, would he give us an easy time?"
"Then what do you suggest..."
"If you want to sleep, find a place where there's no one around!"
"A place with no one? You mean..."
"What, scared?" the seasoned soldier teased, trying to provoke him.
"I'll go, I'm not afraid of dead people," the young soldier couldn't resist, though his eyes widened like copper bells at the thought of unknown creatures lurking in the corners.
The two rode forward for nearly two kilometers until they reached a hill. The light from the flashlight revealed dilapidated iron fences behind which stood tombstones. At the top of the hill, they could vaguely see an abandoned monastery.
"Hehehe, not many dare to spend the night here!" chuckled the seasoned soldier.
"So what? I've done bolder things!" The freckled soldier bravely claimed, though he subtly closed the distance between himself and the seasoned soldier.
The gate, with only half of its frame remaining, was already rusted. The seasoned soldier pushed his bike calmly inside, the flashlight sweeping the ground. "Huh? Footprints? Could it be that a body has come out of the grave?" he speculated.
The freckled soldier shuddered, "Maybe they were left during the day!"
"It's hard to say! Who would come to such a remote place for no reason?" The seasoned soldier intentionally frightened his junior, taking a few steps forward and suddenly stopping. "Did you hear that?"
"Come on, if we keep this up, we won't get any rest for half an hour! I'm so tired!" The freckled soldier sounded impatient.
"Shh..." The seasoned soldier gestured for silence, listening intently.
"Maybe it's just a cat, a wild dog, or something else!" The freckled soldier tried to bolster his courage, but he saw the seasoned soldier gently lay down his bike and unslung his rifle, tiptoeing forward.
Though puzzled, the freckled soldier followed suit, albeit with an old-fashioned rifle that seemed almost as old as his father.
The flashlight beam swept across, revealing only solitary tombstones with ancient names engraved on them. There might even be one with the same name as theirs.
Click! Click!
Strange sounds echoed in the cemetery. For the seasoned soldier, it was easy to discern that it was the sound of pulling a rifle bolt—apparently, the spirits of the underworld didn't use such weapons!
"Don't move! Hands up!" commanded a cold, Scottish-accented voice.
The glaring beam of the flashlight blinded them, and the seasoned soldier instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes. "Don't shoot, we're from the Sandon patrol!"
"Sandon patrol? Alright, put down your weapons. We need to check your IDs! If you're indeed one of us, there's no need to worry; we're just doing our routine!" The voice spoke coldly.
Routine in a place where friend and foe were indistinguishable?
The seasoned soldier muttered to himself. Although he couldn't gauge the exact number of enemies, the flashlight suggested there were at least ten of them. As the saying goes, a wise man doesn't pick fights he can't win. He sensibly laid down his rifle.
The freckled soldier followed suit, raising his hands high.
The seasoned soldier looked down upon the standard surrendering posture, as he simply let his hands hang naturally. He doubted the enemy's presence here—the word was that Berlin had already conveyed its desire for peace to London through Spain. If Germany were to invade, they would surely bomb Britain first, but so far, the roar of German bombers hadn't been heard!
After they dropped their weapons, the blinding light from the flashlight dimmed. The seasoned soldier vaguely saw a rather handsome figure approaching. Judging from the voice, he seemed quite young. More importantly, he wore a smart khaki military uniform, not much different from theirs!
Another person in a sandy-yellow khaki uniform walked up and picked up the rifles from the ground. Only then did the handsome figure approach leisurely. "Let me see your IDs!"
The two soldiers quickly took out their notebooks from their pockets.
The man twisted the flashlight in his hand, and under the white light, the seasoned soldier noticed a youthful and handsome face. Moreover, there was a bright red band around the top of his military cap—it was the emblem of the British Army Provost Corps!
The young "provost officer" carefully inspected the two IDs, his tone somewhat softened, "Alright, it seems you really are from the Sandon patrol!"
The seasoned soldier breathed a sigh of relief, "That's for sure. May I ask, are you..."
"We're from the 33rd Provost Corps, just arrived from Newport this afternoon!" The "provost officer" glanced at the two seemingly honest Sandon patrolmen and whispered, "We received intel that several German spies, possibly disguised as British soldiers, are planning a rendezvous nearby. They seem to want to sabotage our equipment at Carf Tang Corner... uh, you know where that is?"
"We know!" The veteran soldier interjected, appearing seasoned and cautious.
"They're likely aiming to sabotage our equipment there... uh... do you know what it is?" He asked without hesitation. The "provost officer" asked again.
"Of course, it's not far east of Sandon..." Before "Freckle Face" could finish, the veteran soldier interrupted.
"Of course, Officer, we're aware there's important equipment there, supposedly some sort of radio apparatus. But you needn't worry, our vigilance is high, and there's no chance German spies will sneak in!" The "provost officer" scrutinized him earnestly, his gaze somewhat peculiar.
"If it's just regular spies, we wouldn't worry much, but the key is they've been infiltrating our ranks for a long time. So when you came in, we... were extremely cautious! If I may be forward, your guns will probably have to wait until Sandon to be returned to you!"
"You're going to Sandon?" The veteran's reaction was calm.
"Yes, we've been waiting here half the night. Since they haven't shown up, we have to consider Plan B. Can't say much about it, but we need to get to Sandon as soon as possible. Are you... riding from Sandon?" Without skipping a beat.
"Indeed, we've ridden for a full two hours, sir. If we'd walked, it would probably be dawn!" The "provost officer" showed a hint of confusion on his face.
"Two hours?" The "provost officer" looked puzzled.
"Yes, at least two hours! Right, Joe?" The veteran nudged his companion with his elbow.
"Yeah yeah, more than two hours!" After a slight hesitation, "Freckle Face" nodded repeatedly.
"Any way to get there faster? If we wait until daylight, the Kraut spies might escape!" The "provost officer" didn't sound as urgent as one might expect.
"No way!" The veteran replied immediately.
The "provost officer" scrutinized the insignia-less veteran once again, then took a step back, his voice rising a few degrees, "I don't think you're patrolmen at all, more like German spies!"
Just then, the veteran pushed "Freckle Face" abruptly, shouting, "Run! These are German bastards!"
Unfortunately, the entire cemetery had become the controlled area of this group of "provosts". The two unlucky British patrolmen had no chance to leave here, nor could they force the other side to shoot. With numerical and technological advantages, these well-trained guys effortlessly used knives to sever their throats.
"Captain, dealt with!" A burly "provost" walked briskly to the side of the "provost officer," "They really don't know any better!"
"Yeah, the one who spoke was cunning. I think he's onto our identity..." The young "provost officer" said somewhat self-critically, "Looks like I need to improve my acting skills!"
At this moment, in the fields behind the cemetery, four gliders lay quietly, painted black with no markings. However, from their characteristics, it was not difficult to judge that they were DFS 230 gliders from the German Air Force!
The "provosts" had just finished dealing with the two bodies. Another similarly dressed figure ran into the cemetery, "Captain, we found Lieutenant Stephenberg and his team. They crashed into a tree upon landing. Three dead, four injured, with the lieutenant suffering a broken left arm. We've buried the dead on-site, and the rest are heading this way! They'll probably be here in five minutes!"
"Sigh... not off to a good start!"
The "provost officer" took off his cap and scratched his head fiercely, muttering to himself, "No choice now. With things at this stage, we'll have to grit our teeth and go!"