From waking up at 3:30 in the morning, the busy day hardly saw any rest. While the passion after dinner could relax the body and mind, it was also quite draining. Even strong tea couldn't fend off the endless yawns. As midnight approached, the troops heading to Wootton Harbor for the operation were in position, and the counterattack was scheduled to begin at 1 a.m. In this situation, Logan decided to return to his room for a short nap.
As for Joseph Dietrich, at 48, the ideal combination of experience and energy for a commander, but the unfamiliar sea voyage accelerated the exhaustion, leaving the general looking weary despite the continuous effects of coffee and cigarettes. As the staff of the Fuhrer's Guard Regiment arrived one after another from Bromborough Port and reestablished contact with various units, he made the same choice as Logan: a brief rest before the battle began.
Stephenberg had already carefully arranged a bedroom for Dietrich, not far from Logan's room but not too close to be disturbed by any noise.
Returning to his once brightly lit room, the air still carried a faint scent of decadence. Logan tiptoed closer to the large bed where Doreen was sound asleep. Under the dim bedside lamp, her delicate back resembled an exquisite artwork, her snow-white arms akin to autumn lotus emerging from the mud, and those slender and seemingly flawless legs positioned gracefully on the beige sheets, far more enticing than any jade offered in a museum...
What a beautiful creature!
Logan admired the scene of her supine body, though the fashion of the World War II era wasn't too conservative, clothing like long skirts still hindered women from displaying their most beautiful curves. Thinking about the streets of August in the future, bustling with crowds, never lacking in bold bosoms, perky buttocks, and all sorts of legs, even spawning countless "backside killers," Logan himself concluded a classic phrase: "Ugly women also have advantages." There are good and bad aspects, but if Logan had to choose, he preferred the trend where everyone dared to express themselves. However, even if he couldn't return to the original timeline, Logan didn't need to be too disappointed. When the war ended and the atmosphere of peace and development returned, the trend of pursuing fashion and sensibility could easily return in a short time.
Logan climbed onto the bed cautiously, afraid of disturbing the beauty's dreams. Gently touching the elastic skin, he couldn't help but compare it to "Little Sophie Marceau": if French girls were budding roses, then this English girl was a blooming lily; the former was a cute and lovely little loli, while the latter was an elegant and intellectual lady; the former was a bowl of fragrant lean meat congee, while the latter was a bowl of flavorful dan dan noodles... cough, that's a bit far-fetched!
A wave of weariness washed over him, and in the faint fragrance, Logan closed his heavy eyelids.
In his sleep, Logan returned to that modern city of towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, sitting as usual in a street-side café, admiring the various women passing by, occasionally wickedly imagining the voluptuous rabbits jumping crazily above him, or secretly drooling under the temptation of black stockings. Suddenly, he saw "Little Sophie Marceau" dancing happily in a Korean-style dress and a pair of clean white sneakers, followed by Doreen in office attire, walking lightly in high heels. Then there were one elegant foreign girl after another. Just when his eyes were dazzled, a child with a side-parted haircut threw a firecracker into the crowd, and the girls screamed and ran away.
A firecracker?
Logan woke up suddenly, the sound clear in his ears: it wasn't a firecracker, it was gunfire coming from nearby!
Wootton Harbor was ten kilometers away!
Rifles, pistols, submachine guns, and even the distinctive "ripping sound" of the MG34?
Logan didn't turn on the light but subconsciously reached for the gun holster on the chair. Fortunately, the cold Luger 08 was still there, and his movement finally woke up the sleeping beauty.
"What's wrong?"
The woman rubbed her eyes shyly, seeing a shadow sitting on the bed, and screamed.
"It's me!" Logan didn't have time to be annoyed by the piercing scream, quickly got out of bed and put on his boots. Just then, the door was heavily knocked.
"Colonel, we're under attack!" Lieutenant Hartmann shouted anxiously.
Logan was about to ask, when several bullets suddenly pierced through the window glass, the brittle sound of glass shattering made Doreen, covered only by a blanket, scream again.
"Hide under the bed and don't move!" Logan instructed in English, though Grit didn't have time to say much, judging from the commotion outside, he had guessed the situation— the attackers had used poison like "potassium chloride" on the Allied forces before and had raided the British radar station on White Island. Logan, who considered himself half a special warfare expert, didn't completely underestimate the possibility of an attack by the enemy, but after a day of intense fighting, his mind was filled with cruel and violent scenes of war, so he didn't specifically instruct Stephenberg to strengthen the defense of the command post. In fact, a guard force of nearly sixty men, equipped with wheeled combat vehicles, MP38 submachine guns, MG34 machine guns, and even "Panzerschreck" anti-tank rocket launchers, plus the officers walking around the command post, there were nearly a hundred German soldiers in the entire villa. The defense was much stronger than the superficial "Bunker 32"!
"Colonel, are you okay!" Hartmann, who had clearly heard the sound of glass being shot, asked anxiously through the door.
Logan bent down and ran to open the door, the lights in the corridor were already out, and he could only vaguely see Hartmann's figure, apparently still holding an MP38.
"What's the situation outside?" Logan asked in a low voice.
Although Hartmann didn't have much combat experience, he remained calm at the moment: "Our sentries were attacked by a group of guys wearing German uniforms!"
"Damn it! Plagiarism, this is blatant plagiarism!" Logan cursed angrily, but cursing aside, he couldn't charge the British for copyright fees.
"How many people, have they entered the house?"
"Seven or eight, maybe more than ten, I think we should have them blocked outside!" Hartmann was still calm.
As Logan was about to ask more, several bullets suddenly flew through the window again. If Logan hadn't been quick to react, the guy would have had several holes in him.
The crisp and pleasant sound, unmistakably from an MP38!
"Damn!" Logan snatched the MP38 from Hartmann's hand and replaced it with his Luger 08. With his combat experience far richer than this rookie, close combat weapons like submachine guns were more useful in his hands.
The corridor was carpeted, but Logan still strained to hear footsteps. Taking a deep breath, he held the magazine position with his left hand, gripped the gun handle and trigger with his right hand, stretched out of the door, swept a burst of fire in the direction where the gunfire had just come from, then quickly withdrew his
hand and submachine gun. Vaguely, he seemed to hear the dull sound of bodies falling in the corridor.
Bang bang!
This was the sound of the Luger 08, and the dark red bullets flew quickly past the door— from another direction, were they their own men or enemies who had come to encircle them?
The MG34 downstairs was still roaring, Logan was puzzled, but he quickly gave himself a reasonable explanation: this large villa had several entrances and exits. The one downstairs leading directly to the hall had been blocked by soldiers with machine guns, but the attackers could still enter through side doors or first-floor windows. Most likely, the number of infiltrators wouldn't be too many!
Dadadada!
The clear and pleasant sound of the MP38 rang out again, a burst of bullets swept across the corridor, hitting the wooden wall with a muffled thud. Logan loved these simple and easy-to-use close combat weapons from the bottom of his heart, but when they fell into the hands of the enemy, it wasn't fun at all!
Suddenly, something black flew past the door, and Logan hesitated for half a second before realizing that it was most likely a grenade!
"Get down!" He didn't even have time to close the door— it probably wouldn't help anyway— and grabbed Hartmann's hand, only to find that the pistol he had just given him wasn't there. Anxiously searching the floor, he suddenly felt a black shadow appear at the door.
It's over!
Logan felt infinitely sad in his heart, born here, died here, he made a name for himself with special attack warfare, and now he was going to fall under the same tactics used by the enemy, was this what they called karma?
"Colonel?" A familiar voice came from the door, and Logan, who had fallen into despair, suddenly returned to heaven: it was Lenzin.
"I'm here! Damn it! Are all the enemies killed?" Logan struggled to get up from the ground, patted Hartmann's head in passing, rookies still needed to experience more battles!
"There are only bodies in the corridor!" Lenzin said anxiously, "But I saw General Dietrich lying on the ground, I don't know..."
"What?" Logan inwardly cursed, if something happened to Dietrich, the beloved of the Little Moustache, in his own command post, then his future would be in big trouble!