Cut the Gordian Knot

Logan followed the broad-shouldered British lieutenant colonel into the castle without glancing around. The interior was quite elegant, though for a young man who had no knowledge of European countries beyond language, distinguishing between British and French styles was unrealistic.

The large main hall was almost entirely occupied by various machines—telegraphs, typewriters, telephones, and more. Over a dozen officers of varying ages were busy at work. A female secretary in a side cap and khaki skirt walked past, holding a black folder. Her ample chest and the pale thighs beneath her skirt were a testament to the allure of uniforms!

The main hall was connected to a side hall by a corridor less than five meters long, guarded by a soldier with a rifle. As they passed through the corridor, the lighting became much brighter. A large operational map hung on the wall opposite, and an officer on a ladder was marking it with various colored symbols.

"Alright, now find Leuven, yes, in Belgium. Mark it with a red cross. The Germans attacked there 20 minutes ago but were repelled!" The officer below the ladder said emotionlessly, looking down at a document.

At a pair of wooden double doors, the lieutenant colonel stopped. He gently pushed open the right door, said something to the people inside, then turned and gestured for Logan to wait.

The moment the door opened, Logan heard several voices engaged in heated debate, a mix of English and French that was quite an auditory assault.

Removing his cap, Logan straightened his collar. Meeting high-ranking officers always required attention to appearance, and of course, he didn't want the German Luftwaffe lieutenant uniform hidden underneath to peek out.

After a while, the door opened again, and this time a burly officer with a thick mustache stepped out. Under the light, his collar and shoulder insignia gleamed gold. Logan had studied this man's photo many times before coming here—he was Lord Gort, commander of the British Expeditionary Force. According to historical events, he would be returning to Britain in a few days, replaced by General Alexander, commander of the British Expeditionary Force's 1st Corps.

"Major, I hear you have vital intelligence concerning the lives of tens of thousands of British soldiers?" He looked at Logan calmly, his eyes bloodshot and deep exhaustion etched on his face.

"Yes, General. We withdrew from the Lille direction this afternoon. At dusk, we noticed German tanks moving east in large numbers, so we launched a risky small-scale assault. This is what we found in a German courier's bag!"

Logan pulled a document from his file bag. Needless to say, it was also forged overnight by German intelligence—though the content was fabricated, the material was undoubtedly authentic.

Lord Gort read the contents carefully, then gave Logan a strange look. "Major, I think you've been deceived by the Germans! Their armored units couldn't possibly break through our defenses from the east! In fact, we have more troops on that side, and the terrain favors defense."

"But the German armored column came through the Ardennes Forest, which was thought impassable!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Logan noticed the lieutenant colonel looking at him in surprise. He quickly added, "Please forgive my presumption, General! But... I don't think the Germans need to deceive us with fake documents anymore! If they use their armored forces to separate us from the troops retreating from Belgium and defeat us piecemeal, the situation will be very dangerous for us!"

"Is this what you meant by the lives of tens of thousands of British soldiers?" Lord Gort fell silent for a moment, then handed the document with the eagle emblem to the officer beside him. He shook Logan's hand. "Regardless, thank you for the intelligence, Major. Leave the decision-making to us. You may go and rest now."

Logan gave a proper British salute and was led back through the side hall, corridor, and main hall by the lieutenant colonel, exiting the castle the same way he came.

Just as the captain was about to return Logan's pistol, the lieutenant colonel suddenly said, "Major, give my regards to Colonel Milrand!"

Logan turned and replied very seriously, "Sir, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Our current regimental commander is Colonel Follen Kelyan. Colonel Milrand retired last year."

"Oh... my apologies! It seems my information is outdated." The lieutenant colonel said expressionlessly.

With his pistol back, Logan walked past the guard post without looking back. Leutnant Steffenberg approached and asked in a low voice in English, "How did it go?"

"The security is very lax! After the attack begins, I'll lead 14 men in. You take two machine gun teams and hold the rear!" Logan made the combat deployment without hesitation.

"No problem! When do we start?" It seemed the lieutenant was also eager for a fight, especially one targeting the enemy's headquarters, which held extraordinary significance.

Logan didn't answer directly. "Do you think the air force will come to bomb tonight?"

The lieutenant whispered as they walked, "Well, according to the plan, they should come at least four times tonight: at 1 a.m., 2:30 a.m., 4 a.m., and 5:30 a.m. It's now a quarter to 4."

Logan was stunned. Was Steffenberg saying they hadn't seen the abort signal?

"As the saying goes, plans never keep up with changes! Let's hope our bombers don't run into any trouble." With that, Logan rejoined the waiting paratroopers. He waved, signaling them to follow him toward the city—this was, of course, just for show to the guards.

After walking along the gravel road for nearly ten minutes, estimating they were out of the guards' sight, Logan led the paratroopers to a hidden spot by the roadside. He checked his watch and kept an eye on the castle. The road seemed to be the only connection between the castle and the outside world.

4 a.m. came, but there was no sign of activity in the sky. The Black Sprite, which had been burning fiercely on the sea, was no longer visible. It was unclear whether the ship was still blocking the channel or if the Allies had managed to salvage it before it completely sank. Lacking naval knowledge, Logan couldn't make a more accurate judgment.

At 4:15 a.m., the German bombers still hadn't appeared. Logan decided to have Steffenberg arrange for the paratroopers to take turns resting: since the high command had decided to cancel Operation Cyanide, the original bombing plan was likely scrapped. All Logan could hope for now was that the General Student was arguing his case on their behalf.

If nothing happened, Logan thought, they'd have to launch a strong attack before dawn!

At 4:20 a.m., two small cars flying French flags drove down the road toward the castle. Five minutes later, a third car appeared, also flying the tricolor flag.

Gradually, the pitch-black night began to show faint signs of light—in early summer, dawn came earlier!

At 4:40 a.m., the shrill air raid siren finally sounded from the east. To most, it was an annoying noise, but to Logan, it was the call to charge. He quickly rallied the paratroopers to prepare for battle. Once the buzzing of aircraft engines could be heard, he led 14 paratroopers swiftly toward the castle, while Leutnant Steffenberg took the remaining four paratroopers and two Bren light machine guns to hold the rear—though these weapons couldn't match the lethality and rate of fire of the German MG34, the nature of the mission forced them to use unfamiliar British equipment.

About twenty meters from the guard post, the guards clearly noticed the group of armed "dangerous individuals" rapidly approaching. At the critical moment, Logan shamelessly shouted in his Scottish-accented English, "Lads, take cover! The German bombers are coming! Take cover!"

Luck was on their side. The two Vickers Mark I machine guns didn't fire. Taking advantage of the guards' hesitation, Logan and his paratroopers charged forward, dispatching the unfortunate souls with bayonets. The French drivers in the cars tried to flee but were quickly dealt with by the paratroopers coming up from behind.

The battle seemed surprisingly smooth, so much so that Logan almost let his guard down. But out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadow moving inside the door. He raised his pistol and fired. The British captain who had first greeted him clutched his chest and slumped against the wall.

The gunshot undoubtedly exposed the fight, but at that moment, the nearby anti-aircraft guns began firing at the German bombers now over the port. Logan was thrilled. He waved his hand and shouted, "Charge in!"

The paratroopers swarmed in. For these elite soldiers who had undergone long, rigorous training, the officers and clerks inside were like lambs to the slaughter!

Just as he was about to rush into the main hall, a wicked thought flashed through Logan's mind: I wonder what expression the buxom British secretary would have when gripped by extreme fear? Is the ultimate uniform allure the legendary military secretary?