After instructing Sergeant Alton Dag and his paratroopers to fully cooperate with Abe in dismantling important equipment components, Logan took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and headed outside. He wasn't suited for technical work, and the complex odors in the basement were unbearable.
Before finishing a cigarette, Lieutenant Gehardt Scherme and Lieutenant Junior Grade Schkopp came excitedly to report: the British gunners in two anti-aircraft positions had been cleared out, and during the battle, no one from their side had been killed. Only two unlucky fellows had been wounded by the enemy's cooks with cleavers. The spoils included 15 anti-aircraft guns and a large amount of ammunition. Additionally, four British trucks and one armored vehicle parked near the castle had fallen into German hands intact!
"Good, very good!" Logan handed cigarettes to the two officers. "Well done, everyone!"
Lieutenant Scherme, with his straightforward nature, grinned, "Hehe, fights like this are enjoyable. I wouldn't mind doing it again!"
Schkopp also chimed in, "Yeah, it's so exhilarating! Captain, you didn't see it, but when those Brits came out of their tents, I shot them one by one—five shots, five hits. It was a hundred times more enjoyable than shooting targets!"
"Remind the soldiers that it's not time to relax yet. When we return to Germany, I will apply for the Iron Cross for each of them!" Logan's words made both lieutenants ecstatic. In Operation Potassium, every surviving soldier received enviable commendations and promotions, especially Logan and Lieutenant Stefanberg, who reaped both fame and fortune. However, behind these shining accolades was a casualty rate of over sixty percent!
Soon, the paratroopers brought one of the trucks to the front gate of the castle, and Sergeant Alton Dag and his soldiers laboriously carried out the first large crate.
"I wonder how those Brits managed to get these things in here! They're so heavy! Couldn't they have just stored the equipment in the main hall?" Sergeant Alton Dag complained, panting.
Logan chuckled, handing him a cigarette. "Hehe, if they did that, wouldn't everything have been blown to bits by a single bomb?"
"You've got a point!" Sergeant Alton Dag rummaged through his pockets but couldn't find matches.
As Logan extended his lighter, he heard distant gunfire. Listening closely, he could distinguish the distinctive sound of a Browning light machine gun firing.
"Is that Sandon?" Logan peered into the distance to the west, but couldn't see anything.
"It's probably that patrol having trouble!" Lieutenant Scherme speculated from the side.
"Tom, can you get that armored car moving?" Logan asked the young man sitting in the driver's seat of the truck. This man, Tom Potterham, was one of sixteen cadets recruited from the Armor School, capable of driving various combat vehicles, including tanks, and spoke English fluently.
"No problem, sir!" the young man replied earnestly in English.
"Oliver, take two men with Tom in the armored car to Sandon. Be careful not to mistake Rendt's group for enemies!" Logan instructed Schkopp. Although he hadn't been praised in front of Lieutenant Alauron, his record of five hits in five shots was still impressive—especially under such lighting conditions.
After Schkopp left, Logan carefully studied his battle map in the main hall of the castle. Sandon and Bonbridge Harbor were located to the west and north of Cape Calvaton, respectively. Geographically, these three locations formed a right-angled triangle with Cape Calvaton as the vertex.
In the original script of Operation Dagger, after occupying the castle, Logan and his team were supposed to transport the equipment directly to Bonbridge Harbor if they could obtain trucks or other transport vehicles. If they were unlucky and couldn't find a single vehicle, they would have to dismantle the most critical components of the radar equipment and walk to Bonbridge Harbor. In any case, they had to board a German submarine for pick-up at the small port depicted in the aerial photograph—there were no land defenses or British warships moored in sight. Although the specter of war had cast its shadow over the entire English Channel, considering the enormous manpower and resources required to fortify defensive positions, the British couldn't possibly fortify every port, especially given their steadfast belief in their formidable navy's ability to deter enemy incursions. As for the weapons in the warehouse, they would be prioritized for resupplying the expeditionary forces withdrawn from Dunkirk!
Now that they had transportation, Lieutenant Stefanberg and the wounded soldiers stranded in Sandon became a variable that shouldn't have affected the overall situation. Sending a truck to pick them up and bring them to Cape Calvaton wouldn't take much time, but Logan suddenly realized: what if Bonbridge Harbor also had a local patrol and heard the gunfire from this side? It was highly likely they would reinforce their defenses—even if a forced attack succeeded, it would increase casualties and unnecessary trouble before the operation ended!
After much thought, Logan's gaze fell on the road between Sandon and Bonbridge Harbor on the map. It meandered around a few roads before finally entering the harbor from almost due west. If they took this route, he thought, there would be more room for him to play his acting skills. However, ever since being exposed by the British patrol in the graveyard, he had realized that the battlefield was not a place to show off personal acting skills. A true commander played grand strategies, not these small tricks that were beneath the stage. When he truly had the initiative, he wouldn't seek victory through such mediocre acting again!
"Hey, guys, perk up! The night is almost over, and after dawn, the enemy's planes won't dare come near the British coastline! Just hold on for a few more hours!"
On a slowly sailing vessel, a military officer in a white uniform stood on a platform about a meter above the deck, commanding his sailors. The glaring searchlights swept back and forth over the undulating sea, and on the three-meter mast, the worn-out Royal Navy flag fluttered in the wind.
"Don't worry, sir, we're all wide awake!" A stout petty officer replied confidently, but it was midnight when they received the sailing orders, and none of the officers and sailors on board were prepared in advance. After a few hours of turmoil, everyone showed obvious signs of fatigue on their faces.
"That's good to hear! The German mines they laid might be right under our noses!"
This officer, who looked to be in his early thirties, exuded a cold and stern aura. From the golden emblem on his shoulder— a ring with a bar— he appeared to be a Royal Navy lieutenant officer. He scanned the forward deck, and seeing no immediate threat, turned back to the stern of the ship.
The vessel was not large, measuring about fifty meters from bow to stern. In terms of displacement, it barely qualified as a "ship." There were around twenty personnel visible on the deck. At the bow of the vessel, there was a 3-inch dual-purpose gun, commonly found on British naval vessels, while at the center of the rear section, there was a quad-mounted anti-aircraft machine gun. However, what truly indicated its identity and purpose were the two crane-like mine sweeping gear at the stern.
The stern-faced naval lieutenant walked up to a young officer who was observing the sky with a large telescope and asked softly, "Any developments?"
The young officer did not lower his telescope but replied directly, "Nothing yet! The visibility tonight is poor. If enemy aircraft fly high enough, we won't spot them at all!"
The lieutenant responded coldly, "If they want to lay mines in this area, they'll have to lower their altitude! Don't let your guard down!"
"I'm curious," the officer said, "Why would they come here to lay mines? To block off Portsmouth? They would need thousands of mines to achieve that!"
"I don't know either, but our radar detected them appearing four times in the airspace southeast of the Isle of Wight tonight. It's neither bombing nor reconnaissance! Considering the recent appearance of many new types of mines at the mouth of the Thames in the past few days, I think the possibility of them laying mines here is the highest!" the lieutenant speculated.
"Maybe they're here to drop off spies by parachute?" the officer suddenly suggested.
"That's possible, but...coming four times in one night, with several aircraft each time, how many spies would they drop? If they're concentrated like this, wouldn't we just need to blockade the port to catch them all?" the lieutenant shook his head, easily dismissing his own idea. Looking out at the sea, there were still flickering lights in the distance, indicating other ships belonging to the 4th minesweeping flotilla. If the Germans were really laying mines in this area, such a large-scale search operation should yield results!
The officer nodded, seemingly unable to come up with a better explanation.
The two stood shoulder to shoulder for a while when suddenly, they heard a muffled sound from the distant sea. A few seconds later, a second sound followed.
"Listen, it sounds like the explosion of depth charges!" the officer looked at the dark sea, but there was no light.
"Yeah, I heard it too!" The young lieutenant's expression was somewhat bewildered. "Could they have located a German submarine?"
"It's very likely. But...aircraft one moment, submarines the next. What exactly are the Germans up to?" The officer was full of doubt.
The naval lieutenant shook his head silently. This minesweeper was equipped with a 76mm naval gun and an anti-aircraft machine gun, but what followed would be equipment used for mine-sweeping—nothing suitable for dealing with submarines. As long as the German submarine didn't surface, he and his sailors would be powerless!