Sharing the Trench

Logan led the German paratroopers, still disguised as British soldiers, unhurriedly toward the truck waiting at the foot of the slope. It was clear that the British soldiers waiting there were anxious—the main force had already withdrawn, and staying under the enemy's guns was undoubtedly very dangerous!

About twenty paces away, the British private leaning against the rear wheel of the first truck called out, "Sir, where's Sergeant Philip?"

Taking advantage of the fact that the British soldiers hadn't yet raised their guard, Logan immediately replied in a serious tone, "We found a wounded soldier who didn't make it out in time. The sergeant is trying to get him down now!"

The private, with his broad jaw and high nose, took a step forward. "A wounded soldier? Impossible! The regiment's wounded were evacuated before us!"

Logan shrugged. "I don't know. The sergeant said he knows the guy, but… he seems unwilling to leave! Maybe he's suffered a severe mental shock!"

The private glanced behind Logan. "Do you need us to go up and help?"

Logan shook his head. "If more people could help, why would we come back empty-handed?"

The private still looked suspicious. Just then, the truck driver suddenly shouted, "Look! There are Germans on our position!"

At this point, Logan had no need to look back. He quickly drew his pistol. If these British soldiers had been sensible, they could have survived. But they stubbornly raised their rifles.

The German paratroopers in British uniforms opened fire. At such close range, the prepared side dominated the slaughter. The Lee-Enfield rifle, which the British prided themselves on for its rapid rate of fire, now became a tool for harvesting British lives. The Bren light machine gun also proved its practicality. By the time the gunfire ceased, the truck's cab and cargo bed were riddled with bullet holes, and crimson liquid dripped continuously from the vehicle.

Steffenberg and a few paratroopers circled to the rear of the truck to check, then gave Logan a thumbs-up.

"Alright! Problem solved!"

"Too easy! It almost feels unfair!" Grote, standing beside Logan, put down his rifle and leisurely lit a cigarette.

Witnessing close-range killing again, Logan's mindset underwent a subtle change. Deep down, he wasn't a bloodthirsty person!

"leutnant, look over there! Something's happening!"

Hearing German, Logan's first instinct was to curse, but he suddenly realized the voice was distant. Turning his head, he saw an SS soldier in black uniform running down the hill, pointing to the northwest.

Raising his binoculars, Logan froze for half a second. He saw over a dozen British trucks speeding toward them, with what seemed like a large number of infantry following behind.

"What's going on? Did that fool Thomas realize something was wrong? Or did we just run into British reinforcements?"

There were many questions on the battlefield, but most could only be answered after the fact. Logan quickly led his paratroopers back to the British positions on the hilltop. The side facing away from the canal had a gentler slope, stretching nearly thirty meters—though the slope didn't entirely determine the difficulty, the key was that without the protection of the canal, infantry could more easily charge up in one go!

The yellow trucks stopped just outside machine gun range. With the naked eye, Logan could see two to three hundred British soldiers disembarking and preparing to attack under their officers' commands. In less time than it took to smoke a cigarette, a sharp whistle sounded, and the British infantry advanced rapidly toward the positions in skirmish formation!

"They're fast!"

Seeing how quickly the enemy went from disembarking to launching an attack, Logan couldn't help but admire them. In his mind, organizing an attack seemed like a very serious and complex matter. No wonder—he had been in this era for less than two weeks and hadn't even seen a Wehrmacht exercise. The German army was renowned for its strict discipline and rapid action. The British performance here was nothing compared to modern blitzkrieg!

However, with no ferries available, only about thirty SS soldiers had crossed the canal, and they had no heavy weapons. Holding such a wide defensive line with so few men seemed precarious to Logan!

The SS Untersturmführer (second lieutenant) standing nearby didn't look nervous. He called over a subordinate, gave some instructions, and then had the NCOs disperse the soldiers who had crossed the canal along the entire defensive line.

Since a direct confrontation seemed inevitable, Logan had his paratroopers remove their British uniforms. Northern France in May wasn't particularly hot, but after shedding the "yellow skin," Logan felt much more relaxed. His subordinates also seemed relieved.

Boom… Boom…

Artillery fire suddenly erupted from behind. Logan turned his head and saw white smoke rising from behind the German positions across the canal. The field artillery was speaking! To his delight, dark gray metal beasts appeared at the edge of the woods. Raising his binoculars, he saw—wow! Tanks!

He had seen plenty of pictures, but when the real thing appeared, Logan wasn't sure if they were Panzer IIIs or Panzer IVs. Their sturdy, angular shapes and short-barreled cannons made them formidable by 1940 standards!

There weren't many of these iron beasts with white crosses, but judging by the smoke rising from their cannons, they soon joined the fire support. Shells whistled overhead, and in an instant, the British infantry was engulfed in a terrifying web of fire!

"Did you call for artillery support?" Having just switched back to German, Logan was still a bit unused to it.

The SS Untersturmführer shouted back, "Yes, let's show the British some color! Otherwise, they'll think we're rookies!"

Rookies? That was a pretty modern term. Logan yelled, "If we can get those tanks up here soon, the position will be secure!"

The SS officer looked back. "We have to wait for the engineers to build a pontoon bridge! If we hold the position, it should be ready in about two hours!"

"Wait.. Two Hours?"

"Yes, Two hours!"

In the gaps between artillery fire and explosions, Logan finally heard the answer clearly. He remembered watching a military program where the host proudly explained that a pontoon unit had built a heavy-equipment-capable bridge across a 100-meter-wide river in just twenty minutes using new ribbon bridges. This canal was only about ten meters wide, yet the German engineers needed two hours to build a pontoon bridge. At first glance, the efficiency seemed incredibly low!

Considering the technological level of the time, Logan could only think about how to make better use of his "forward-thinking" in the future. Fortunately, the German artillery was accurate. After a few rounds of shelling, the British infantry in the first wave of the attack had been nearly wiped out!