Campfire Dinner

Finally, after a six-hour forced march, the British forces arrived at the Tobruk defensive line.

Major General Evans of the 15th Armored Division immediately requested air support from the air force.

However, within minutes, he was met with a ruthless refusal: "General, we cannot meet your request because our aircraft are unable to accurately drop bombs on targets in the night!"

Major General Evans, upon receiving this telegram, couldn't help but furiously tear it to shreds.

"These guys!" Major General Evans cursed, "They're there to help the enemy when needed, but full of excuses when we need them!"

However, as much as Evans cursed, he knew the air force was right; it was getting dark, and the air force, lacking night combat capabilities, couldn't provide effective support to the 15th Armored Division. If they were forced to deploy, they might end up "helping the enemy" once again.

"General, perhaps we should rest tonight and attack at dawn!" his staff suggested. "The troops are exhausted from a day's march and are not in a condition to launch an attack, especially without air support."

"Barrett!" Evans shook his head and said, "Do you think I don't know that? But do you think we can wait until tomorrow?"

"Why not?" asked the staff.

"Look here!" Major General Evans pointed at the map of Tobruk, "Tobruk is a port, and ports have an advantage; even if we surround it on land, the enemy can still send reinforcements by sea. Do you think Rommel is a fool to not send reinforcements to Tobruk and just watch us starve the Germans there?"

Hearing this, the staff member felt embarrassingly short-sighted.

"The enemy's reinforcements could likely come from Benghazi..." Evans analyzed while looking at the map. "It's over three hundred miles from Benghazi to the port of Tobruk. Let's assume the Germans start preparing reinforcements the moment Tobruk falls...then the reinforcements could arrive in Tobruk in about seventeen hours, and six hours have already passed!"

Saying this, Major General Evans rolled up the map, his face clouded with worry as he looked toward the barbed-wire-laden defensive line: "That means we can only attack them tonight, otherwise... once their reinforcements arrive, taking it will be even harder!"

"But how are we to attack such a defensive line?" the staff asked, pale-faced, "And in the night at that!"

The staff's concern was valid. The British army was not adept at night combat, especially the armored divisions...

This had to do with the British army's combat morale... The thinner the morale, the greater the fear of night combat, as it often meant hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. Even without direct combat, just being alone in a trench or foxhole in the dark, with the enemy potentially appearing suddenly, was a test of will and courage.

It also had to do with British equipment.

For instance, British tanks lacked night combat capabilities, and the air force was the same... This led the British to always try to avoid night combat with the enemy, as it was akin to fighting with their hands tied.

But now, Major General Evans felt he had no choice.

"Think on the bright side!" Evans said, "We have over ten thousand men and more than a hundred tanks, while the enemy only has a thousand or so. We have a significant advantage in manpower! And..."

Evans didn't finish his sentence, as it was a secret known only to a few senior officers.

(At this time, the British armored division operated with two brigades, meaning one division, two brigades, with about ten thousand men each, making up about twenty thousand men in total, equipped with 300 tanks.)

On the other side, Qin Chuan also realized that the British would launch an attack tonight, for the same reasons Evans considered, especially since time was not on the British side... The longer the delay, the greater the depletion of British supplies, which was very dangerous for the British who had lost Tobruk.

Yet despite this, Qin Chuan fell asleep.

He lay sleeping on the beach near the dock, from which all idle people had been cleared... This was for the safety of the warehouse goods, as Colonel Slyne worried that the British or underground organizations might infiltrate and destroy the warehouse, so he had sealed off the port to prevent anyone from entering.

The sealing of the port was, of course, the responsibility of Qin Chuan's battalion.

This was a good job; the soldiers could even take a comfortable bath in the sea near the port during their rest... Of course, not all soldiers had this privilege, as the warehouse and port defenses still needed guarding.

Those who had this honor were only Qin Chuan's second company... In fact, originally only Qin Chuan had Colonel Slyne's permission.

"Sergeant!" Colonel Slyne said after everything had stabilized, "You performed very well in this battle. If not for your suggestions, I think we would not have successfully taken Tobruk. To commend your merit, I've decided to give you half a day off. You may use anything here, including the warehouse supplies..."

"Sir!" Qin Chuan said, "This isn't just my merit... My subordinates, my squad, and our company..."

"Alright!" Colonel Slyne interrupted Qin Chuan, "It can only extend to the company then. Let's give you all half a day off!"

The soldiers cheered loudly, many warmly embracing Qin Chuan to express their thanks.

The first thing the soldiers did was take a bath... Having been in the desert for so long, nothing was more satisfying than bathing in the blue sea water, then sitting under a sunshade sipping British porter from the warehouse.

Werner didn't know where he had gotten a sheep... It was later revealed that Werner had traded the canned beef in the warehouse with the locals for it, having originally wanted to trade for a pig but settling for a sheep due to the absence of pigs in Libya.

The soldiers clumsily slaughtered the sheep and started a fire, then began roasting the meat on the beach beside.

"Is there a better life than this?" the baker said, sipping his drink in the sea breeze, "If I write home telling them that war can be this enjoyable, they'd think I've gone mad!"

"Don't tell them!" Big Bear mumbled through a mouthful of lamb, "I still can't believe it... God, I'm really enjoying a campfire dinner by the sea!"

"Shouldn't we thank our sergeant for this?" Werner raised his drink, "To the sergeant!"

"To the sergeant!" the soldiers echoed, raising their glasses.