Chapter 490 The Poker Face

"Even if we make it to Plymouth, it won't make much of a difference," said Brigadier General Brandon. "If we encounter German armored units, we wouldn't even survive their first charge. The only way to hold them back is with urban combat. We have continuous reinforcements coming, enough to sustain a fight, kill many Germans, and deal them a heavy blow!"

The aide said anxiously, "But what if the Germans decide to destroy Exeter like they did Belfast?"

"!!" Brigadier General Brandon's face instantly turned grim; he had completely forgotten about that!

If they couldn't engage head-on or fight in urban warfare, they were in a bind. After pondering for a while, he instructed, "Send a telegram to London, request instructions from the Prime Minister."

Upon hearing that the Plymouth defense forces had raised white flags, Prime Minister Churchill's eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

Everyone was startled by this sudden event and rushed to help. Some pinched his philtrum, others tried to pull his tongue out to prevent him from swallowing it (a method based on the fear of "tongue swallowing" leading to suffocation).

After all this commotion, Churchill was actually woken up before the doctor arrived.

"Surrender?! They surrendered without even firing a shot? Why?! Why is this happening?!" Churchill was trembling, either from anger or fear, his voice bordering on hysteria.

He knew well how unsteady the public's morale was, which is why he personally chose the frontline commanders for their reliability. But this collective surrender at Plymouth—what could this mean except that the British Empire was doomed?

At that moment, everyone noticed that the corner of Churchill's mouth had drooped slightly to the left, his left eyelid drooping as if it couldn't open, and a trickle of saliva ran down from his crooked mouth, which he seemed unaware of.

"..."

"..."

People exchanged shocked looks. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff softly asked, "Prime Minister, you..."

"What about me?" Churchill seemed oblivious to his own condition and asked in return.

Just as everyone was struggling with how to explain, the doctor finally arrived. Seeing Churchill's state, he was momentarily stunned before quickly starting to take his blood pressure and asking about sensations in various parts of his body. After removing the stethoscope, he said, "The Prime Minister's symptoms appear to be due to extreme fatigue. What he needs now is absolute rest; if he doesn't get enough recovery, I can't guarantee his condition won't worsen."

"Rest?" Churchill shook his head. "Doctor, this is not the time for rest." The fate of the British Empire was on a countdown, and now was the time for him to give his all; how could he rest?

If he rested now, he would likely be resting in peace within days.

Despite everyone's attempts to persuade him, to no avail, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff continued to report the situation. "Brigadier General Brandon of the 12th Armored Division, who recently arrived in Exeter, is asking for the next move. If we have them engage in urban combat to delay the Germans in Exeter, they might suffer the same fate as Belfast. What do you think...?"

After some thought, Churchill decisively ordered, "Have them withdraw to London, recall all reinforcements sent to Plymouth, and bolster London's defenses. How's the air battle over Plymouth going?"

"..." Air Chief Marshal Dowding's face was grim.

Since dawn, he had sent out two waves of fighter squadrons.

The first wave lost at least seventy aircraft.

The second was even worse; Dowding had thrown everything but the kitchen sink, sending all available fighters to Plymouth except those needed to defend London. The result was disastrous, with less than half returning. After all, Spitfires and Hurricanes were no longer a threat to the Germans due to performance leaks and being vastly outnumbered.

Now, he even had to use bomber pilots to fill the gap in fighter pilots, but even if these bomber pilots turned into ace fighter pilots overnight, it was still a drop in the bucket, nowhere near enough to compensate for the losses.

Worse yet, with Plymouth's surrender, the British pilots who had bailed out during the fight were now prisoners. Thus, losing over 200 planes meant losing over 200 pilots. On the other hand, German pilots could parachute safely and return to France by afternoon, ready to fight again.

After a moment of silence, Dowding spoke, "Perhaps the royal family should leave the country." Despite the blockade, there was still a secret port and a hidden passage they could use to escape.

"I agree; at least the King, the royal family, and various government agencies should leave." The Chief of the Imperial General Staff concurred. "Once the Germans pass Exeter, it will be too late."

Everyone fell silent.

With the mysterious surrender of Plymouth, the English Channel was no longer a barrier, and German heavy weapons were pouring onto British soil through the intact port of Plymouth. The Germans could now rampage across Britain as they had on the European continent.

The landing forces at Norwich and Dover didn't have heavy equipment yet, so they weren't rushing towards London. But it was only a matter of time; once reinforced, the Dover forces, less than 100 kilometers from London, could reach the capital in a day or two. London, the capital of the British Empire, was about to become the frontline of battle, something that had only happened twice over a thousand years ago.

The weary Queen Elizabeth sighed and asked, "So, the Germans could attack London at any time?"

"Please rest assured, Your Majesty, the closest Dover landing force is still over 90 kilometers from London. Our troops are setting up new defensive lines; we will definitely intercept the Germans outside London," Churchill said, gritting his teeth, using a handkerchief to cover his mouth and chin so as not to appear undignified in front of the Queen. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff added, "The army has formed two more infantry divisions. They will fight to the death to prevent the enemy from entering London."

"..." Queen Elizabeth suddenly felt pity for these two men. These guarantees, now worthless, seemed more like they were trying to bolster their own courage rather than reassure her. They had promised that the expeditionary forces would defeat Germany and return victorious, promised to rescue those surrounded at Dunkirk, promised not to let a single German bomb fall on London, promised that the Germans would never cross the English Channel. Now they promised that German troops wouldn't enter London?

It was over; it looked like German troops entering London was a foregone conclusion.

With another sigh, just as she was about to say something, the royal butler rushed in. "A German bomber squadron is attacking the Prime Minister's residence!"