A plate of plain scrambled eggs without any seasoning. A piece of freshly baked wheat bread, accompanied by a cup of fresh milk that had left the udder less than half an hour ago. Such a simple and healthy battlefield breakfast was rare, and even more precious was the absence of the noisy gunfire and fierce fighting, replaced by the fresh scent emanating from the verdant grass, as if even the soul had been purified.
Outside the tent, the drizzling rain continued. Dorin, with her hair neatly combed, lowered her head and mechanically picked at the eggs on her plate with a fork—after the ordeal earlier, she still looked weary, with no appetite in sight.
After the intense bombings by the German Air Force ceased, the surroundings finally quieted down. Logan, with a gentle tone, inquired, "Are you alright? You seem lost in thought."
Dorin shook her head, her demeanor evoking sympathy.
Putting down his utensils, Logan swallowed a sip of the slightly yellowish milk, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, signaling the end of his breakfast. Then, in a slow manner, he spoke in English, "The war will end! Don't worry, we will all survive this!"
Dorin nodded, still reluctant to speak much.
"Are you worried about your family?" Logan asked again.
"Her parents passed away long ago, in a terrible car accident!" Aunt Susan interjected. She and her chubby daughter, along with her nephew, who spoke with a lisp, seemed elegant while dining, but soon cleared their plates in no time.
"Unfortunate circumstances," Logan expressed sympathetically.
"It's nothing!" The English girl didn't even look at Logan, a faint blush coloring her fair cheeks. With the coming of age, the green apple was ripening.
"Do you have any other relatives?" This time, Logan asked Aunt Susan directly. The hostility from the previous night seemed to have dissipated, and her tone now resembled that of a prospective mother-in-law testing her future son-in-law.
"Dorin has an uncle who runs a shipbuilding business in Liverpool, quite well-off; her aunt married a doctor and lives in London; oh, and there's her cousin, the movie star, residing in the United States—her father was originally a government official stationed in India, now retired and living in Mumbai!"
Speaking of Vivien Leigh, although Logan didn't have a photo in hand, he compared her face to his memory: the arched eyebrows and watery eyes resembled a beautiful bird, her delicate and sharp face exuding a classical British charm. There was no doubt about the invincible youthfulness of the English girl before him. However, her demeanor was too shy, lacking the grace and elegance of a movie star. But then again, one's environment shapes one's style. If Dorin were to become a public figure one day, who's to say she wouldn't outshine Vivien Leigh in star quality?
Logan couldn't trace Dorin's original life path, but since that night, her fate had undergone a significant change. As her first man in life, Logan had yet to plan their future clearly—Dorin, Quirley, and the "unmet" Lucy. In ancient times, they could have all been part of a harem, but in present-day Germany, monogamy was strictly enforced, and according to the Fuhrer's racial theories, only Aryans were deemed noble. While the British could be tolerated, the French and Russians were a bit...
Germans might despise rainy days, but the British didn't see it that way. With the cessation of German air raids, military trains loaded with soldiers and supplies were rushing towards roughly the same destinations on England's various railway lines. However, on the trains heading in the opposite direction, either they were empty or filled with civilians with dazed expressions, preparing to evacuate to the north. Yet, on the front lines where fierce battles erupted, there was no sight of a large number of wounded being transported to the rear. This was such an eerie and unsettling phenomenon.
Various rumors quietly spread. The formidable combat strength of the German landing forces was exaggerated, with words like "devastating," "disastrous," and "total annihilation" swirling around. Sensing the sensitivity surrounding these words, officers were at a loss, and some even exchanged their thoughts nervously in private.
At a train station just a stone's throw away from the port of Portsmouth, another military train slowly pulled up to the platform. As the doors of the carriages opened, British soldiers streamed out in orderly fashion, their weapons not as haphazardly put together as some makeshift infantry units. Lee-Enfield Mk IV rifles, classic masterpieces of bolt-action rifles; the Bren light machine gun, an Enfield-made improvement after purchasing the patent from Czechoslovakia, simple, durable, and highly adaptable; then there were Webleys, Vickers guns, and M36 hand grenades, all of which were the standard equipment of the British Army at the beginning of the war (the Sten submachine gun began production slightly later, in 1940).
A military train could often carry thousands of fully armed soldiers. These helmet-wearing fellows quickly filled the entire waiting room of the train station, with officers' voices shouting numbers and relaying orders ringing in their ears. Shortly after, amidst the deafening whistle, the British soldiers, rifles shouldered, marched out of the train station in double columns, resembling a parade, and circled the port area for almost half a circle before finally arriving at the crowded docks filled with various types of ships.
For this morale-filled force, the onlookers and other British soldiers waiting in line to board the ships, who were previously bewildered, lost, or even pitying, finally regained some vitality in their gazes. One discerning infantryman whispered to his companion, "Look, the Royal Irish Fusiliers, it seems the Joint Command has decided to deploy even the most elite troops into this dreadful meat grinder!"
"Rubbish, they're hardly the most elite! To deal with the German machine guns and tanks, we rely on our 'Battlefield Queens'!" his companion retorted disdainfully, while another infantryman standing nearby added, "Nonsense! The 'Battlefield Queen' of the 11th Armored Division was smashed by the Germans at Caen and Wootten, not a single one was withdrawn!"
"Shh... here comes the lieutenant, everyone quiet down!"
The dignified officer paced with a riding crop in hand, but his deep brown eyes lacked their usual sharpness. Watching the infantrymen line up neatly to board the ships bound for the opposite shore, his gaze was filled with bewilderment.
In the rain, one cargo ship after another, barges, ferries, and yachts, slowly docked at the pier. They took away tens or hundreds of soldiers, stacked a certain amount of ammunition boxes or other supplies on the deck and swiftly started up again, following the ships ahead towards the outer harbor.
The oppressive atmosphere felt suffocating, but just as it seemed unbearable, a different sound finally reached their ears. Suddenly, there was a slight commotion among the infantrymen on the dock and the onlookers who were unaware, and the scent in the air seemed to subtly change.
Amidst the rumbling engines and the clanking of tracks, one tank after another slowly drove through the streets, heading straight for the fixed pier at the southwest end of the harbor, where two empty naval transport ships had been waiting for some time.
At a well-equipped large port, getting the tanks onto the ships was not difficult. Two large cranes took turns, and within half an hour, twelve cumbersome tanks were each loaded onto the specially designed transport ships with spacious decks. However, unloading these tanks on the opposite shore would be a headache. With the construction of these transport ships, it was impossible to directly unload the tanks on the beach. At the very least, a sturdy pontoon bridge would need to be found, and then sufficiently sturdy gangways would need to be erected between the ship's side and the pontoon bridge...
The large hotel just a stone's throw from the pier was also a landmark building in the port area. As the German forces approached aggressively, naturally there were no ordinary guests lingering here. So when the army announced its requisition, everyone cooperated surprisingly well, and some of the staff and cooks volunteered to stay and serve the military.
On the third floor by the window, there were golden scrambled eggs, dark red slices of smoked meat, verdant broccoli, and milky white milk on the dining table. Color, aroma, taste—all were present, but the four British generals sitting opposite each other seemed to have barely any appetite.
The army major general on the left by the window, wearing black-framed glasses, had a pale complexion and looked exhausted. However, age was just a trivial aspect. This man was quite famous in the British Army. Previously, he had boarded the cruiser "Aurora," narrowly avoiding torpedoes fired by German submarines. However, his landing troops were not so lucky: in the fierce battles at Caen and East Cowes Port, the 11th Armored Division suffered a third of its personnel and a large amount of equipment losses. Then, under pressure from the German Luftwaffe and submarines, they withdrew to Portsmouth. Later on, this division, along with the 4th Infantry Division, landed at Wootton Port for amphibious operations, but before the vanguard could occupy the port area, they were met with a German counterattack. After another fierce battle, this newly formed armored division was depleted, and the last of its elite forces were lost in the night battle the previous day.
With the unfavorable situation in the battle, changing commanders was only natural. The next offensive would be fully led by the new commander of the 5th Army sitting across from him, General Bernard Law Montgomery.
The energetic lieutenant general had a lean face and eyes that seemed sharp despite their size. In the Dunkirk evacuation more than two months ago, the troops he commanded were one of the rare highlights of the British Expeditionary Force. Thus, after returning to the UK, he continued to serve as the commander of the 3rd Division. With France's surrender and the British government's decision to continue the fight, the German invasion became more urgent. Defending the long coastline became the top concern of the British high command. Montgomery successfully gained the favor of Prime Minister Churchill during an exercise, and from then on, his career flourished. Taking advantage of the opportunity of a reorganization in the senior ranks of the British Army, he quickly assumed the position of the commander of the 5th Army, standing out among many seasoned major generals and receiving promotion.
"Bernard, unfortunately, I've let down the entire country's expectations. I hope you can turn the situation around in time! Good luck!" General Parecsi, full of disappointment, seemed to have aged overnight from 55 to 75, feeling powerless in the face of the obvious situation.
"Thank you for your blessing!" Montgomery, although he had eaten little, was mentally much better than Parecsi. He turned to Admiral Ramsay sitting beside him and said, "After my vanguard consolidates the beachhead, how long will it take to transport fifteen thousand men and ample ammunition supplies to the island?"
Starting with fifteen thousand right away, the lean naval admiral casually toyed with the food on his plate. "The new floating pontoon bridge should be set up before noon. By then, the landing speed will be greatly improved. But this estimate is based on the premise of not facing large-scale air raids by the German Luftwaffe! If we reduce food supplies and increase ammunition, by tomorrow, before noon, fifteen thousand men and enough ammunition for a major battle will be transported to the Isle of Wight!"
The naval commodore sitting across from Ramsay was a sturdy middle-aged man. He spoke in a low voice, "The weather is certainly in our favor. It's unlikely the German Luftwaffe will be able to launch as crazy attacks as they did in the first two days. But I want to kindly remind everyone that the Germans are still airlifting personnel and supplies to the island. With the previous battles, their casualties weren't severe, and there are probably close to eight thousand German troops on the island now! Their tanks. The number is also more than we initially estimated!"
"Fifteen thousand against eight thousand, we still have a great advantage!" Montgomery's seemingly relaxed words carried a hint of contempt for the enemy. It was undeniable that during the French campaign, he commanded the British Expeditionary Force's 3rd Division in two victorious battles. Although he didn't achieve final victory, his actions provided good cover for the withdrawal of British troops from Dunkirk. Some speculated that if not for the 3rd Division's heavy destruction of German ground forces in the counterattacks, coupled with the risky approach of two old Revenge-class battleships to Dunkirk and their fierce shelling of the German forces
occupying Dunkirk, the Germans would have advanced on Dunkirk with even greater speed in the final few days. For every day less, 30,000 to 40,000 fewer British soldiers would have been withdrawn to the British mainland, which would have been an irreparable loss for the British army, which had limited manpower!
"Our warships will fully support the land battles. By tomorrow, HMS Hawkins will be repaired, and HMS Devonshire will also come from the west coast! In addition, according to the Fleet Command's requirements, we have organized more than 800 marines, ready to engage in landing operations at any time!" Although the naval commodore's confidence was not as strong as Montgomery's, it was still much stronger than that of Ramsay and Parecsi, the two old generals.
Parecsi looked out of the window with a lost look. The pier was bustling, but the battlefield several kilometers away seemed like a trap filled with spikes, ready to devour these bewildered and ignorant British infantrymen at any moment. After a moment, he reminded in a weathered and lost voice, "The German troops landing on the Isle of Wight have extraordinary combat power. You must be careful!"
Montgomery calmly finished the last sip of milk, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "Don't worry, we will make the Isle of Wight the Waterloo of the Germans!"
Although separated by more than a century, Hitler and Napoleon, with their talents and ambitions, instilled fear in the minds of British military personnel. But without the catastrophic defeat in Russia, would the German Napoleon encounter a Waterloo of similar significance in Britain?