A Flash of Forward Thinking

Under the sprawling canopy of an oak tree, two unfortunate souls with their heads wrapped like rice dumplings sat side by side on a bench.

"Hans, are you okay?"

"Yeah, my head still hurts a bit, and... my thoughts are all jumbled. What happened to me? Did I anger the gods or something?"

"Oh? You don't remember? Poor boy!" The "big rice dumpling" turned to look at the "little rice dumpling." "The car you were in got strafed by British planes. It flipped, and everyone else died. Only you survived! It's a miracle!"

"Oh, I think I remember something like that," the little rice dumpling—Logan—thought to himself. So, the guy he'd taken over was also a victim of a car crash. That meant the original owner of this body was likely headed for a vegetative state, and his time-traveling soul had just swooped in to take over.

"The doctors said you don't have any serious injuries, just a blow to the head. Now that you're awake, you'll be fine!"

That sounded familiar.

"How about you?" Logan asked the big rice dumpling. From the side, the man had a weathered face, with scattered stubble adding to his disheveled appearance. Yet, his eagle-like eyes remained sharp and clear.

"I'm alright, but it hurts when I wake up, and the doctors said I can't be exposed to wind for several months," he said slowly.

"Oh, that's fine. It's a good chance to rest," Logan casually reassured him, but the big rice dumpling gave him a strange look and sighed heavily.

Logan thought for a moment. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

It was meant as a polite gesture, but the big rice dumpling took it as an invitation to vent. The quality of the Fallschirmjäger (paratroopers) was beyond reproach, but this new branch of the military was stuck in an awkward position—unloved by both the Luftwaffe (Air Force) and the Heer (Army). The Luftwaffe saw them as little more than infantry transported by planes, while the Heer resented their affiliation with the Luftwaffe. As for the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (High Command of the Armed Forces), they were too busy celebrating the overwhelming success of the Panzertruppen (armored forces) on the Western Front. It was clear that the Luftwaffe's tactical bombers and the Heer's tanks would be the focus of future military development. Although the Fallschirmjäger had performed admirably in the Netherlands and Belgium, the big rice dumpling pessimistically believed that the Führer would only use them as a firefighting force. (After the Battle of Crete, the German Fallschirmjäger indeed fell into this tragic role.)

The frustrations weren't just strategic. The big rice dumpling also mentioned that during the battles in the Netherlands and Belgium, the Fallschirmjäger had made significant contributions, especially in the spectacular capture of Fort Eben-Emael. However, in operations to seize airports, bridges, and cities, their lack of firepower often left them vulnerable to enemy resistance and even trapped. When factoring in the Transportflieger (transport planes) lost during the drops, their casualty rates far exceeded those of other branches during the conquest of the Low Countries.

As Logan listened to the big rice dumpling's grievances, his mind raced. Who was this guy? He sounded like some kind of patriotic philosopher. Did he get his head squeezed on the way out the door?

That said, Logan's first major in university was German, and his second was international finance—neither had anything to do with the military. But he was never one to stick to the script. One summer, while working at his uncle's video store, he binge-watched every documentary in stock—over 200 discs, at least a third of which were about military history, with no fewer than 20 focusing on World War II. Thanks to his good memory, Logan had since fancied himself a history buff, even bragging about it in his social circles. Though, on two occasions, he'd been humiliated by actual history experts.

"Looking at the evolution of modern military history, there are some patterns that no one can change: Panzer (tanks) replacing Artillerie (artillery) as the king of land warfare, Flugzeuge (planes) replacing Luftschiffe (airships) in the skies, Schlachtschiffe (battleships) gradually being supplanted by Flugzeugträger (aircraft carriers) and U-Boote (submarines). The Fallschirmjäger, as a versatile and highly promising branch, will undoubtedly shine brightly on the battlefield!" Logan recited word for word, mimicking the cadence of a documentary narrator he remembered.

The big rice dumpling's gloomy expression finally shifted. While he might not yet understand the decline of Schlachtschiffe, he had a deep appreciation for the rise of Panzer and Flugzeuge.

Logan paused, then continued, drawing from fragments of his memory: "As Flugzeugtechnologie (aircraft technology) advances and the Luftwaffe's long-range delivery capabilities improve, the strategic role of the Fallschirmjäger will expand. Especially when equipped with luftverlastbare Kampffahrzeuge (airborne combat vehicles) and schwere Waffen (heavy weapons), they'll be able to bypass seemingly impenetrable defenses and strike deep into the enemy's weakest points, disrupting their entire defensive setup. In the era of conventional weapons, they represent the perfect fusion of the Luftwaffe and the Heer—a truly versatile branch!"

The big rice dumpling hesitated. "Are you saying... that one day, heavy weapons like Panzer could be airdropped?"

Logan nodded solemnly. "Yes, it won't be long before Panzer can be airlifted or even parachuted into battle. In future conflicts, the Fallschirmjäger will have the potential to become a decisive force. From small-scale Spezialoperationen (special operations) involving dozens of soldiers to large-scale drops of tens of thousands, Tiefenangriffstaktiken (deep-strike tactics) will be executed with precision. They'll be particularly effective in amphibische Angriffe (amphibious assaults) and missions to cripple enemy Führung, Kommunikation, and Transportzentren (command, communication, and transportation hubs)."

The big rice dumpling pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and pondered for a while. "Are these your own ideas?"

Logan couldn't exactly tell him he was a time traveler from decades in the future. He nodded, adopting the air of a prophet. "Actually, during my recovery, a lot of these thoughts came to me. You could say it was a divine revelation."

"These ideas are excellent, truly visionary!" The big rice dumpling took a deep drag from his cigarette. "If only the Führer could understand and accept such thinking!"

The Führer? That little guy with the comb-over?

Logan's mind immediately conjured up an image of the infamous figure. Would he really have a chance to meet such a historical figure up close? Should he butter him up or play the role of a 20th-century assassin?

"Aha, so this is where you two are! No wonder I couldn't find you anywhere!"

When the rough female voice came from behind the tree, both rice dumplings visibly flinched.

"Herr General Student, Herr Leutnant Logan, have you both forgotten the doctor's orders? Ruhe! (Rest!) You need to rest properly to recover quickly!"

Logan turned to see the "Flying Fortress" standing with her hands on her hips, her presence as imposing as a one-woman barricade. But... she had just mentioned a somewhat familiar name. General Student? Kurt Student? The head of the Fallschirmjäger? This big rice dumpling was him?

"Uh... Fräulein Amelie, I just... needed some fresh air! I'll head back soon!" The big rice dumpling casually tossed his cigarette butt to the ground, but this didn't escape the "bomber nurse's" sharp eyes.

"Herr General, the doctor said you must avoid Rauchen (smoking) and Alkohol (drinking) during this period, or it will hinder your recovery! Also, gentlemen, it's time for your Spritzen (injections). Either return to your beds, or... shall I bring the Nadeln (needles) and Medizin (medicine) here? Hmm, the scenery here is quite nice!"

In an instant, the two rice dumplings' faces changed, as if they'd been hit with a "Angriffsbeschleunigung" (Haste) spell from a fantasy game. They vanished down the path with remarkable speed, leaving the nurse—whose name and demeanor were a stark mismatch—to stomp after them in frustration.