Taking Fate into His Own Hands

The silver moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the face of a middle-aged man whose head was wrapped like a giant rice dumpling.

"Hey, General, wake up! Hey, wake up!" A shadowy figure crouched by the bed, gently shaking the man's arm while trying not to alert the ever-lurking "bomber nurse."

"Huh... who is it?" the "big rice dumpling" mumbled groggily.

"It's me, Hans Logan! The angel sent by God to save you!" the shadow whispered.

"Angel? Please, can we talk tomorrow? I'm exhausted!"

"I can't wait, General. This has to be said now, or it'll be too late!" the shadow insisted.

The "big rice dumpling" finally sat up, annoyed. "Fine, my angel, my savior. If you're just here to tell me the British will slip away from Dunkirk, then please leave..."

"No, I've come up with a plan—one that can disrupt the Allied evacuation and showcase the capabilities of the Fallschirmjäger (paratroopers)!" the shadow said.

"Oh? Really?" The mention of the paratroopers piqued the general's interest.

The shadow continued, "Remember when I mentioned special operations for the paratroopers? I have an idea: drop a team of paratroopers into Dunkirk and Dover to sabotage the British evacuation, buying more time for the Luftwaffe (Air Force) bombers and the ground forces to push forward. Even if the British manage to evacuate some troops, it won't change the overall situation!"

"You want to drop our paratroopers into the middle of enemy territory? That's suicide!" the "big rice dumpling" reacted strongly.

The shadow whispered, "No, not a direct assault—infiltration and sabotage! General, we must remember that the role of paratroopers isn't just about direct attacks. They're versatile, capable of operating in every corner of the battlefield!"

The "big rice dumpling" finally perked up. "Oh? If that's the case, let's hear your plan!"

"Here's the idea. I've studied Dunkirk's geography... First, we can take full advantage of the paratroopers' stealth... %&#... Second, we can maximize their special operations capabilities... @#&... Third, our paratroopers are undoubtedly the most reliable soldiers... X%*..."

Midway through, the voice of the "Flying Fortress" suddenly came from outside the door: "General, aren't you resting yet?"

The "big rice dumpling" hurriedly replied, "Just getting up for a quick bathroom break. I'll go back to sleep soon!"

"Get some rest!" The voice outside was so gentle that, had one not seen the speaker, they might have imagined a completely different person. But like a legendary "back-view killer," this bomber nurse was a "voice killer."

Does this woman ever sleep? Logan thought miserably.

The "big rice dumpling" obediently turned off the light, but under the moonlight, the two continued their discussion.

"It's too dangerous, far too dangerous! The paratroopers could be wiped out!"

"No risk, no reward. I think this is the perfect opportunity to show the higher-ups just how versatile paratroopers can be!" the shadow argued.

"Versatile paratroopers? Hmm, I like that concept. Alright, what's your concrete plan?"

"Here's the thing. I once watched a mov... uh, read a book about paratrooper operations. Oh, it's nameless, a handwritten manuscript, purely fictional! Anyway, my plan is... %￥#&..."

Even a lunch with a variety of dishes couldn't stir Logan's appetite. Ever since General Student left in his car that morning, Logan had been in a state of nervous anticipation. Even when the elephantine "Amelie" approached with a syringe, he didn't show a hint of fear.

This display of bravery earned him the respect of all the other roommate fellow.

But Logan's mind was elsewhere. Last night, he and the "big rice dumpling" had stayed up until 4 a.m., of course not in the way one might think. People in 1940 were no less intelligent than modern folks, and to truly convince them, Logan had to bring out his best arguments. Besides detailing every aspect of the plan, he also engaged in ten rounds of war games with General Student under the dim moonlight. Logan had to work hard to win seven of those rounds, constantly explaining to the land-power-oriented German general the traditions, characteristics, and strengths of sea-power nations like Britain. He emphasized how the British would spare no effort to rescue their comrades, sending every available ship to Dunkirk despite the Stukas circling above, the mines floating in the water, and the German long-range artillery on the shore.

By evening, General Student's car finally appeared at the entrance of the field hospital. The "big rice dumpling," his head still wrapped in thick bandages, had no idea whether he had been comforted or mocked by his colleagues at the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (High Command of the Armed Forces).

He immediately gave Logan a bear hug.

"Our chance has come! The Führer fully endorsed our analysis. Even the weather reports show a stretch of bad weather ahead, so the Führer has ordered the Heer (Army) to advance on Dunkirk again!" General Student said excitedly, pulling out a document stamped with the eagle emblem from his bag. "And he approved our plan!"

Logan let out a long sigh of relief. He knew he had encountered Lady Luck—after all, General Student was just a Generalmajor (Major General) in the Luftwaffe (Air Force). How many division-level figures in Germany could directly petition the dictator and persuade him to reverse his orders?

In fact, only a handful of people like Erwin Rommel and Erich von Manstein had such opportunities, and their biggest similarity was their close personal relationships with the Führer!

Glancing at the document, Logan froze: in black and white, it clearly stated that the operation, codenamed "Cyanide," would be led by Luftwaffe leutnant Hans Logan. The required personnel would be drawn from the 7th Parachute Division, and the operation would commence on May 27—just two days later.

Jumping out of planes was one thing, but the problem was that Logan had never even held a gun, let alone participated in actual combat! Sending such a rookie to the battlefield was practically asking for him to be cannon fodder.

Logan stared blankly at the beaming "big rice dumpling." Well, he had dug his own grave this time! What could he say now? Fake an injury? The doctors had already said his head was fine, and the minor wounds would heal in a couple of days. Besides, if he gained a reputation for cowardice, how would he survive in the future?

What could he do? Bite the bullet and go through with it! Maybe he'd even become a hero?

After reading the document twice, Logan realized something important was missing.

"General... how many troops is the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht planning to commit to this operation?"

The "big rice dumpling" replied, "The Führer believes the scale should be kept to a company at most. But considering we need paratroopers who can speak English, I estimate we can gather no more than 100 men."

Logan took a deep breath. In his plan, at least 300 paratroopers were needed to effectively disrupt the command center of "Operation Dynamo" and create enough chaos among the Allies. Damn it, it seemed the Führer still didn't have enough confidence in the paratroopers. But to avoid disappointing General Student, he was willing to throw a few unfortunate souls into Dunkirk—if they succeeded, great; if not, the Reich wouldn't lose much.

Despite his disappointment, Logan thought for a moment and said, "Oh, by the way, General, I have one more request: to maintain combat readiness, can I spend the next two days training in parachuting and shooting?"

"Of course! The Führer has ordered all units to fully support this operation!" the "big rice dumpling" declared, waving his "imperial decree" like a sword—though it might not be much more effective than a salted fish.

"Uh... one last question!" Logan asked. "Why was 'Cyanide' chosen as the operation's codename?"

"Oh, that's a poison—a deadly one. It can kill a person in ten seconds!" the "big rice dumpling" explained proudly. "We're going to make the British and French taste the consequences of opposing Germany!"