Keep Bluffing

"Ahem, yes, that's right, General Montgomery. You know, we're here to see him! I just thought… the general might be here with you!" Logan covered up.

"Oh, sir, General Montgomery and his division headquarters should still be in Leuven!" The lieutenant quickly added, "As far as I know, that's the case!"

Logan's first thought was to find a way to eliminate this future star of the British Army. But then he reconsidered. Montgomery was no ordinary man—he wouldn't be easily fooled. Moreover, his headquarters were near the front lines, and security there wouldn't be as lax as in the rear. Besides, they had likely already received news of the attack on the Expeditionary Force headquarters, so heightened vigilance was only natural.

"Sir, do you need me to send someone to guide you to the division headquarters? If you take a vehicle, it'll take no more than 20 minutes!" the British lieutenant offered proactively.

Logan quickly made a decision. "No need. Where's your regimental headquarters?"

"See that tree over there?" The lieutenant pointed to the top of the hill. "The regimental HQ is right next to it. I saw Colonel Smith there just five minutes ago!"

"Oh, good!" Logan walked back to the truck and said to Tobias, "Sergeant, I think we have orders for the East Lancashire Regiment, right? If I'm not mistaken!"

"Yes, that's right!" Tobias, catching on, began typing new content on a blank sheet of paper.

"Lieutenant!" Logan took out a cigarette from his pocket and handed it over, then slowly spelled out, "The… East… Lancashe… Regiment. Right?"

"The… East… Lancashire… Regiment." The British lieutenant corrected him very seriously.

Logan handed him a cigarette. "Yes, yes, that's right. This order is for you! I always get it wrong, haha!"

Once Tobias finished the document, Logan had Grote find and cut the phone lines connecting this British unit's headquarters to the outside world. Meanwhile, he had Leutnant Steffenberg take a few men to help unload the ammunition crates from the truck. Logan himself led the remaining soldiers up the rugged mountain path.

When they were still several dozen meters from the hilltop, they suddenly heard a strange sound.

In a panic, former professional goalkeeper Mark Ella tackled Logan to the ground, shouting in German, "Artillery! Take cover!"

This startled Logan into a cold sweat. The British soldiers ahead weren't desk-bound officers. In a direct fight, his 19 men wouldn't stand a chance!

Boom… Boom…

The artillery shells were clearly aimed at the British positions on the hilltop, striking with precision and ferocity. Lying on the ground, Logan felt the earth shaking violently. At first, it didn't seem too bad, but as the explosions drew closer, the pressure on his eardrums and the trembling of the ground intensified. Gradually, it felt like his internal organs were churning, with waves of blood surging up his abdomen, as if he might vomit blood at any moment!

His curiosity and longing for war finally turned into pain. Logan opened his mouth wide, enduring the rain of mud and the agony in his organs. In a fight, you could run when things went south, but now he could do nothing. In the face of the war machine, every individual was helpless and insignificant!

The short three to four minutes felt like an eternity to Logan. When the artillery fire ceased, his ears were still ringing. Struggling to his feet, he suddenly remembered the earlier incident and gestured to Ella to watch his mouth.

The former goalkeeper, now a private, realized his mistake and nodded apologetically.

The group climbed up the hill in disarray, only to find the British soldiers on the defensive line in even worse shape. Under the German artillery barrage, the defensive positions, roughly parallel to the canal, looked like the surface of the moon. The trenches, nearly a man deep, were littered with mutilated bodies and wounded men struggling in pools of blood. The barbed wire in front of the positions was also in tatters, with large craters still smoking.

The German paratroopers had no need to pity the British. When they asked the British soldiers about Colonel Smith and the headquarters, they were told that the regimental HQ had been directly hit during the artillery strike. Colonel Smith and his staff officers had all gone to meet their maker.

"Bring me your highest-ranking officer!" Logan said, somewhat frustrated. Standing on the British positions, he finally understood why the Germans hadn't broken through: this mile-wide defensive line was built on a hill west of the canal, about 5 to 6 meters above the water. For the German infantry to attack, they first had to cross the nearly 10-meter-wide canal under British fire, climb the long slope, and then engage in close combat with the British soldiers in the trenches. Clearly, they hadn't even reached the third stage. Looking out, the open ground on the other side was crisscrossed with German trenches, and the occasional round helmet could be seen flashing by. At the foot of the slope lay scattered German corpses, and more could be seen on the opposite riverbank.

Soon, a mud-covered British major came running over.

"Major Derek Thomas, commanding officer of the Norfolk Battalion!"

"Hello, I'm Major Corky McKean from headquarters. Here are your orders!" Logan solemnly handed over the forged document. Once the major had read it, Logan continued with a serious tone:

"Major Thomas, under the authorization of the Expeditionary Force headquarters and given the current situation, I appoint you as the temporary commander of this unit. Now, immediately lead your troops out of the position at double time!"

The tall, thin British major stood at attention. "Major McKean, rest assured, I will fulfill my duties! But if we withdraw now… the Germans will break through!"

Logan deliberately used a haughty tone. "No buts! I don't know why headquarters directly ordered Colonel Smith to withdraw his regiment with priority, but I do know that nearly 100,000 men are waiting to board ships in Dunkirk! The colonel is dead, and I don't know if this order will be canceled. All I know is that once you get there, you can look for a Navy Lieutenant Commander named Jamie Green. He'll arrange for your immediate boarding! Major, it's up to you!"

After a moment's hesitation, Major Thomas saluted. "Then, Major, which unit will take over our position?"

Logan started cursing this dutiful British fool in his mind. He glanced at his watch. "No unit will take over your position! The orders were sent out last night. All units are to withdraw to the outer perimeter of Dunkirk to organize defenses. According to the plan, the units on your left flank will withdraw within half an hour, and the right flank will withdraw by 11 a.m. But only your unit and a few other combat units are authorized to proceed directly to the beach! Any other questions?"

Finally, the tall, thin major said, "No, sir! I'll contact division headquarters and then command the regiment to withdraw!"

Logan nearly choked. Bluffing wasn't for everyone. He could only hope Grote had cut their phone lines. As for radio communication, since the regimental HQ had been wiped out, contacting them shouldn't be easy!