Chapter 431 Paratroopers

"Is that so?" After reading the telegram, Wilhelm was a bit stunned and somewhat indecisive.

After all, such an event had never occurred in the original timeline of history, and he had no reference to draw from.

Wilhelm asked his secretary to bring a map of Britain to locate a small town called Bumare(?). Scotland's terrain is mostly mountains, lakes, and islands, and it has three major natural regions: the Northern Highlands, the Central Lowlands, and the Southern Uplands. And this Bumare was located in the mountainous area of southern Scotland.

"Surrounded by mountains on three sides, it's easy to defend but hard to attack. The terrain is indeed good," Wilhelm mused for a while before calling Kesselring, Richthofen, and Student. "Gentlemen, what do you think about this? Can we hold it with paratroopers? For example, for two months?"

After reviewing the telegram and carefully studying the terrain around Bumare on the map, Student spoke up. "Your Highness, we believe the success rate should be over 60%."

Kesselring added, "First, we need to send a bomber squadron to paralyze the traffic arteries around Bumare, then lay a large number of mines to hinder the movement of the British army. We should send engineers to Bumare to build an airstrip. Once the airstrip is completed and planes can take off and land, the success rate will greatly increase." The requirements for airfields for propeller aircraft during World War II were not very high; a flat, solid ground was sufficient for planes to take off and land. As long as the equipment is in place, engineers could build a simple runway in less than a day.

"60%?" Wilhelm looked out the window. The heavy snow had stopped after two days, and even a warm sun had come out. "60% is already quite high."

After further discussion, Wilhelm finally decided, "Go ahead and execute the plan!"

"Yes!"

An urgent assembly alarm sounded at a paratrooper training base.

The paratroopers, who were playing cards, chatting, sleeping, and reading in the barracks, were startled. "What the heck! Weren't we supposed to rest today? What's going on now?!"

Despite their grumbling, they quickly assembled on the parade ground, and soon the base commander's stern voice came over the loudspeaker. "Gentlemen, this is not a drill. In one hour, you will take off for the British mainland!"

"Ha!" The parade ground was instantly abuzz. "Weren't we supposed to launch the landing operation at the end of February? Has it been moved up?!" And by a whole two months at that, which was quite sudden.

The loudspeaker continued, "Officers above the rank of squad leader, come to the operations meeting room; the rest of you, disperse and prepare. You have one hour."

Fred, the squad leader, joined the others in the operations meeting room. The usually packed room was two-thirds empty today, as two-thirds had left the base for Christmas leave.

"What on earth is going on that we're suddenly launching an airdrop?"

"Who knows? Maybe the higher-ups want to catch them off guard."

"It's not like we're going to parachute into London and capture Churchill, right?"

"Haha, maybe."

As everyone whispered and speculated, Base Commander Bach walked in. "Sorry to ruin your Christmas, gentlemen. This operation is quite abrupt, and I've just received the orders. You are to parachute into Bumare in Scotland." He turned and circled a spot on the map of Britain behind him. "This is a new army training base. Just this morning, a mutiny occurred at this training base. The recruits killed all the instructors and military police and took over Bumare."

"Oh, really?" The men were surprised but then realized the situation. "So we're going to 'support' them?"

Bach nodded. "Correct, that's the decision from above. This operation won't be easy. Your airdrop into Bumare will attract a large number of British forces. However, with mountains on three sides, it's easy to defend and hard to attack, and with the support of the air force, there's a good chance we can hold out until the end of February when the main forces land. Of course, it's also possible that the British mainland will collapse on its own before then, as this training base is a good example. Any questions?"

Everyone shouted in unison, "No, sir!"

"Dismissed, go prepare! I wish you a triumphant return!!"

Fred returned to the barracks, and everyone gathered around. "Squad leader, what's the situation?"

Fred repeated Bach's words. "That's the situation. Have you all finished writing letters home? These letters might become your last words." Although it sounded ominous, it was the reality. No one can guarantee absolute safety on the battlefield; accidents that cause death can happen even during regular training, let alone parachuting into enemy territory for combat.

The men silently finished writing their letters, put on their combat uniforms and cold-weather coats, and went to the quartermaster to collect their weapons and equipment.

With their weapons in hand, the recruits shook off the "last words" atmosphere and began to joke and laugh.

"Everyone, check your weapons! This is not a drill, and any mistake could cost you your life!" Fred frowned at his subordinates, who were almost dancing with excitement, and couldn't help but interrupt them. "Especially the parachutes. We've only used this new type of parachute twice, so don't be careless! Falling from several thousand meters in the air is not a pleasant experience."

After scolding them, he opened his leg bag, took out the well-maintained FAL semi-automatic rifle with the scent of lubricating oil still on it, pulled the bolt several times, and pressed the trigger to ensure there would be no problems.

In addition to the rifle, the leg bag contained grenades, a multifunctional engineer shovel, binoculars, windproof goggles, a compass, a gas mask, waterproof matches, smoke grenades, a map, a water bottle, a lighter, a ration pack, an ammunition pack, a medical kit, and other equipment.

After checking everything and ensuring nothing was missing, he strapped the paratrooper knife sheath to his leg and hung the "Skorpion" submachine gun on his body.

An hour later, all the paratroopers, with their weapons and equipment, assembled on the grass next to the runway, waiting to take off. Because they were carrying so much, many lay sprawled out on the ground.

Soon, a Ju 52 transport plane entered the runway. The German army had originally planned to use the Ju 52 as a transitional model, but now that the new transport planes had just entered mass production, they had to make do with what they had.

Fred called out loudly to his subordinates, "Get up, start boarding! Confirm the numbers! Line up and move forward!" He reached out to help a soldier struggling to get up, and one by one, all the men stood and slowly walked toward the Ju 52's gangway.

"Hurry up! The takeoff time is almost here!" Officers by the runway repeated the command, urging the paratroopers to quickly board the plane.

Stepping on the plane's simple ladder, Fred's paratroopers climbed one by one into the not-so-spacious cabin of the Junkers "Auntie."