A Man's Resolve

Under a starless, cloud-filled sky, two lumbering, slow, and seemingly harmless Junkers Ju-52 aircraft flew almost parallel to the northeastern coast of France. The engines at the nose and wings droned incessantly, but in an era without environmental protection laws or Greenpeace, these "aunties" could freely skim low over the land. Behind them, two DFS 230 light assault gliders, towed by steel cables, resembled giant black kites. However, in such pitch-black darkness, flying kites didn't seem like much fun.

Inside one of these "Trojan horses from the sky," the stifling air made it hard to breathe. Ten men, clad in yellow life vests, sat crowded together. A closer look revealed they were dressed in full British Army uniforms, complete with rank insignia, sleeve badges, and emblems. Their weapons—Lee-Enfield No. 4 rifles, Bren light machine guns, and Webley & Scott revolvers—were all standard issue.

Sitting in the co-pilot's seat was a young man wearing the insignia of a British Army major. The faint starlight illuminated his handsome, youthful face, his deep blue eyes appearing profound and thoughtful. A white bandage wrapped around his forehead added an air of heroic resilience.

"leutnant Logan, ten minutes until release!"

The pilot, wearing a side cap, turned his head and reminded him in German with a southern accent.

Ahead of the glider, the towing Ju-52 signaled with its rear lights.

After a two-second pause, the young Luftwaffe leutnant snapped back to reality. He nodded at the unfamiliar face, then glanced back at the tough paratroopers in the cabin, still feeling as if he were in a dream. Just a few days ago, he had been lying in a field hospital. Now, he was commanding a small but elite unit: eight officers and 32 soldiers, including the glider pilots, were participating in the operation. Twenty men were divided between two gliders landing near Dunkirk, while the other twenty were headed to Dover.

According to historical records, on May 27, the British evacuated 7,669 men from Dunkirk by sea, while the majority of the nearly 400,000 British and French troops were still waiting for evacuation in the Dunkirk area.

Ten minutes could feel like an eternity or pass in the blink of an eye.

"leutnant, we've reached the designated release zone!"

Tobias Fast, a Luftwaffe sergeant and glider pilot, was agile and sharp-minded. Whenever he spoke, he seemed to subtly observe the other person's reaction.

Logan checked his watch with a small flashlight. It was three minutes to midnight. German efficiency had ensured the operation had proceeded strictly on schedule so far, but from this point on, uncertainties would multiply, making it impossible for even the shrewdest commander to predict what would happen an hour later—unless, of course, the ancestors of Paul the Octopus had prophetic abilities!

"Execute the operation!"

Just as Logan finally made up his mind, Sergeant Tobias interjected, "Wait... leutnant! Look!"

Ahead of the glider, the "auntie's rear" flashed again. But how could Logan, possibly understand such signals?

The diligent German sergeant interpreted: "Headquarters orders... Operation Cyanide... abort! Gliders... return!"

Logan was stunned. A flurry of speculations raced through his mind: Had the German ground forces broken through the Allied lines? Had the Führer changed his mind? Did General Student have a new idea? Or...

Once midnight passed, the calendar would flip to May 28, 1940. Every hour, hundreds or even thousands of Allied soldiers would be evacuated. Was he really going to let this hard-won opportunity slip away?

At that moment, Logan remembered something his ex-girlfriend had once said: "People who do great things should have and stick to their own judgments." In other words, his approach had always been too gentle, lacking the decisiveness of a true man.

When the familiar yet detested face appeared in his mind, his heart twisted in pain. Had she left him to find a "real man"? Was that slender guy with the delicate gestures really better than him in that regard?

Nonsense! Nonsense! Nonsense! That guy just had a Chevrolet sports car! No matter how flashy, he couldn't become a Transformer! If it came down to a race, my BMW K1300S "Road Warrior" could hold its own!

"Release the cable!"

"Huh? leutnant?"

"Release the cable!" Logan repeated the order with unwavering determination.

The DFS 230 light assault glider had a detachable hook at the front. Upon reaching the release zone, both the tow plane and the glider would typically release the cable to avoid fatal complications during landing.

The sergeant hesitated for a moment but ultimately pulled the lever.

To thrive in this chaotic era, one needed trustworthy companions and loyal assistants—this was a hard truth Logan had learned from his painful experiences.

The slight jolt was barely noticeable. From this moment on, the glider was not only free from the "auntie's" tow but also cut off from the possibility of returning directly to German-occupied territory.

Logan glanced back at the paratroopers in the cabin. There was no sign of alarm; clearly, his conversation with the pilot hadn't reached their ears.

"We saw the order only after releasing the cable, understand?" he whispered to the Luftwaffe sergeant beside him.

Tobias, with his curly blond hair, stared at Logan for two seconds, his eyes still slightly confused, but he nodded gently.

"All for victory!" Logan added softly. An ordinary German soldier might have said, "All for the Reich," "All for the Führer," or "All for Germany," but Logan hadn't developed such habits.

"Look, leutnant, they're coming down too!" Moments later, Tobias pointed to the upper right.

Logan looked up. Although visibility in the night sky was poor, at a distance of just a few hundred meters, he could make out the other glider, which had already separated from its tow plane. The steel cable was clearly no longer in play.

"Well done!" Logan thought to himself. Although he wasn't sure whether these paratroopers hadn't received the new orders or were simply following the operation commander, their participation didn't just double the number of troops—it also boosted morale and increased the plan's chances of success. Even if some seasoned staff officers at the Luftwaffe headquarters viewed this operation as suicidal, taking risks was undoubtedly a shortcut to standing out in a hierarchical military.

About ten minutes later, the glider prepared to land on the sea. At this point, all Logan could do was grip the handhold tightly. Fortunately, Tobias was bold yet meticulous. After two "dragonfly touches," he seized the moment to gently lower the nose, followed by a series of more intense jolts. By the time the shaking subsided, the lightly modified DFS 230 light assault glider had come to a steady stop on the water.