The Wealth of the Nation

The gunfire inside the castle was completely drowned out by the chaotic artillery and explosions outside. Armed with Webley & Scott revolvers and Lee-Enfield rifles, the German paratroopers easily swept through the main hall and side hall. Most of the officers here didn't even carry weapons.

Logan, of course, wasn't in the mood to torment the British secretary who had fainted from fear. He led his men toward the double wooden doors.

Bang!

As soon as Luftwaffe Private First Class Enke Richthofen—who shared a surname with the legendary German ace, the "Red Baron"—kicked open the wooden door, he was immediately shot in the chest!

Seeing his comrade writhing in pain on the ground, Logan was furious. He fired four shots at the door with his revolver, and the paratroopers followed suit, shooting through the door. The gunfire echoed loudly in the hall. Amid the chaos, the paratroopers near the door dragged their wounded comrade to safety.

"Throw a grenade!" Having watched plenty of war movies, Logan knew the key to a quick victory. At his command, Tobias pulled out a British No. 36 Mk I grenade (Mills Bomb), pulled the pin, and tossed it at the door. Everyone wisely found cover.

Boom!

The explosion in the confined space was deafening. Logan was the first to leap up from behind a table. Waving his freshly reloaded revolver, he charged toward the now-blasted door, followed closely by his rifle-wielding comrades. Stimulated by the strong smell of gunpowder, they fired at anything that moved—the goal of Operation Cyanide was to eliminate the Allied headquarters, and prisoners were of no value.

A minute later, the paratroopers had emptied their magazines, and the fight was over. In the conference room littered with documents, Logan counted 12 bodies. What left him speechless was that the lowest-ranking officer here, whether British or French, was a major!

He inspected each body and soon found Lord Gort, the burly British general with the thick mustache. The lord had been shot in the head and likely hadn't suffered much before dying. His golden collar insignia was now stained with blood.

"Whoa, sir, there's a British general here too—looks like a lieutenant general!"

Luftwaffe Private First Class Hunter pointed his rifle at a body near the overturned conference table.

Logan checked the shoulder insignia: crossed swords and a crown. Damn, it really was a lieutenant general! This was a huge score!

Unlike most lottery winners, Logan, though excited, managed to keep a cool head:

"Tobias, take a team and clean up the battlefield outside. You should be able to find the British telegraph codebook! The rest of you, gather these guys' IDs. Let's see how many big fish we've caught!"

In no time, twelve IDs were laid out in front of Logan. The leader was John Vereker, a British Army general—the famous Lord Gort. The British lieutenant general was Henry Pownall, the chief of staff of the British Expeditionary Force, second only to Gort. There was also British Army Major General Douglas Bridge, Colonel Court Wilms, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Ring, Royal Navy Captain Keith Troy, and Major Cedric Castner. The only regret was that the two corps commanders of the British Expeditionary Force, John Dill and Alan Brooke, weren't present. Otherwise, this British force in dire straits would truly be leaderless!

On the French side, Logan painstakingly identified Eugène Giraud, a French Army lieutenant general; Abiram Jabir, a French Army major general; Thomas Jocel, a French Army lieutenant colonel; and Nicolas Laubary, a French Army major. The last one made him nearly jump for joy: another general, a French Army general!

The name on the ID was Blanchard Charles, the new commander of the French First Army Group!

In the limited time he had, Logan hadn't seen much information, but he had come across a report on Allied senior commanders. This Blanchard Charles, though not prominent in French military and political circles, was a solid, hardworking man!

After reviewing these IDs, Logan felt like he was dreaming: with just 19 German paratroopers and less than five minutes of fighting, he had wiped out 2 generals, 2 lieutenant generals, 2 major generals, and a dozen colonels from the British and French forces. Such a haul was likely unprecedented and would have a massive impact on the entire course of World War II!

Logan couldn't continue imagining, even feeling a bit dizzy. Though a surgical strike on the enemy headquarters was the ultimate goal of Operation Cyanide, this had all happened too suddenly and too easily! Especially these French generals, who weren't even part of the plan. If they had stayed in their own territory instead of coming to the British Expeditionary Force headquarters, they might have avoided this fate!

And what about all these messy documents scattered across the floor and tables? How many of them contained critical information about the campaign's future?

Not long after, Tobias ran in excitedly. "Sir! Look what I found!"

Logan turned to see the guy holding a small black book. Was it more valuable than the Bible?

"The codebook?"

Moments later, the excitement on Logan's face was replaced by an evil grin!

Standing on a ladder, Logan enthusiastically displayed his "talent" for military command in front of a large map. Meanwhile, Korpral Karen Molt, a German paratrooper skilled in radio technology, used the captured codebook and intact telegraph machine in the main hall to send these chaotic orders to British units in Dunkirk.

"Oh, right! We should also send a gift to Churchill! Hehehe, send a message to the British Joint Chiefs of Staff: the German forces occupying Calais seem to be under attack from the French rear, and their lines are wavering! Strongly recommend delaying Operation Dynamo. We will organize a powerful assault. If successful, the entire war situation will be reversed! Long live Britain! Long live France!"

As he spoke, Logan on the ladder waved his arms excitedly, as if he could already see Churchill's furious expression upon realizing he'd been fooled.

"Major! Major!"

A German paratrooper carrying a Lee-Enfield No. 4 rifle ran in, panting. "A group is advancing up the hill toward us!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of a Bren light machine gun firing came from outside.

"Alright, game over!" Logan quickly descended the ladder and decisively ordered his men: "Smash the telegraph machines and phones here. Don't leave any documents—burn them all!"

Tobias and the paratroopers sprang into action. Arson and destruction seemed to have become his specialty, second only to piloting gliders.

"What about these women?" A paratrooper pointed to the British secretaries trembling in the corner.

"We're men. Men don't hit women!"

Logan walked out the door with flair. Since he spoke in English, the secretaries clearly heard him, their eyes instantly welling up with tears: they had finally met a good man of the new era!

When Logan, still with bandages on his head, led a few paratroopers to the castle gate, he saw Leutnant Steffenberg and his two machine gun teams retreating while firing. Flames flickered on the slope below, and dark red tracers occasionally flew past.

"How do you use this thing?" Logan pointed to the Vickers Mark I water-cooled heavy machine gun behind the sandbags.

Grote volunteered. He pulled the bolt, gripped the handles, adjusted the muzzle slightly, and the machine gun roared to life.

"Not bad!"

Logan mimicked the actions and took control of the other heavy machine gun. With a slight pull, the Vickers Mark I came to life. The continuous firing and the sound of shell casings clattering on the stone floor were music to the ears of this war rookie! The intense vibration made it hard to aim accurately, but precision wasn't the goal here. A torrent of bullets poured down the slope, instantly suppressing the enemy's fire.

Taking advantage of this, Steffenberg and his men retreated.

"Out the back door!" Logan coolly tilted his head, as if he were about to make a last stand against the British. But as soon as the ammo belt ran out, he and Grote immediately ran back into the castle without looking back. Earlier, the clever Tobias had scouted the rear: the back of the castle was a steep slope, impassable for large forces, but a small team could follow a path into the city in minutes.

When they regrouped, Logan noticed Tobias holding a stack of documents, while two paratroopers beside him struggled to carry an old typewriter. Curious, he asked why.

"The typewriter, the documents, and this!" Tobias pulled a round, metal seal from his pocket.

"You're a devil!" Logan exclaimed with delight upon seeing the text and pattern on the seal. As the saying goes, a weak leader makes for a weak team. These paratroopers, having worked with him for only a short time, seemed to have inherited his cunning!