The Best Duo in History

Perhaps Dietrich had never intended to extract any useful information from these timid French civilians, or perhaps the "fanatics" were in a good mood after an easy victory. Their attitude toward the civilians was relatively decent, only asking them to draw water from the well and carry it to the field kitchen in buckets. As for the British and French prisoners, they weren't so lucky—not only did they have to dig trenches covered in dust, but they also had to watch out for the rifle butts and batons of the German guards!

Half an hour later, the vanguard of the artillery battalion arrived. Dietrich directed his men to set up defenses on the spot while having the artillerymen deploy their guns to the north of the town. According to the map, Wormhout was only about ten kilometers from Dunkirk's port, theoretically within range of field howitzers.

"Quick, quick, secure the gun positions! Get the ammunition trucks over here! Corporal, hurry up and get your men to unload the shells!"

The stocky artillery commander, though not tall, was clearly a man of action. Under his urging, the SS gunners had four howitzers set up in temporary positions in less than fifteen minutes.

"Rheinmetall 18-type howitzers (leFH 18), 105 mm caliber, total combat weight about 2 tons, with a range of up to 11 kilometers when using high-explosive shells!"

Logan turned his head in surprise, only to find his deputy, Leutnant Lenz Steffenberg, calmly observing the SS artillery.

How did this guy seem to know every weapon on the battlefield?

Logan was quite envious. If he had inherited some memories from the real "Hans Logan" when he time-traveled, he wouldn't be such a rookie now!

The artillerymen quickly stacked some fuzed shells next to the guns. After adjustments, the howitzers' barrels were raised high. However, Dietrich, standing not far away, didn't seem in a hurry to bombard Dunkirk. What was he waiting for?

The overcast sky hid the sunset, but judging by the light, it would be dark in no more than an hour and a half. A gentle sea breeze blew by, and Logan suddenly had a strange thought: Why couldn't people live peacefully? Wouldn't watching the sunrise and sunset with family be more meaningful than the cruelty of war?

The next second, Logan realistically dismissed this fantasy. The law of the jungle had been unchanged since ancient times, and the temptation of power and wealth was too great for most leaders to resist. Even if he reached the pinnacle of power one day, he might not be able to resist showing his ambition to weaker nations!

Lighting a cigarette, Logan elegantly smoked half of it before a faint buzzing sound reached his ears. At first, he thought it was a Stuka or a Messerschmitt, but when he turned his head, he saw a small, sleek gray-green plane no more than five kilometers away. It circled at an altitude of no more than a few dozen meters before finally landing on a patch of grass north of the town.

Steffenberg muttered to himself again, "Fi-156, 'Storch,' manufactured by Fieseler, specializes in battlefield reconnaissance and communication. It can adapt to various harsh takeoff environments and has excellent short takeoff and landing capabilities! Currently widely used by the Army!"

Logan had never paid attention to this type of plane before, but he noticed that the SS soldiers had already laid out a swastika flag on the grass where it landed. Seeing Dietrich's calm expression, Logan understood: this must have been summoned to provide artillery spotting!

To ensure the accuracy of long-range artillery fire, real-time spotting adjustments were indeed necessary. Seeing this, Logan grew even more envious of Dietrich, the commander of the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler: bombers when he needed bombers, reconnaissance planes when he needed reconnaissance planes. Such efficiency was something ordinary Wehrmacht units could only dream of!

"Sir, the plane was attacked by enemy ground fire en route. Both the pilot and the observer were injured and may not be able to continue the mission!"

Inside the armored command vehicle, an officer held a telephone, apparently communicating with the personnel at the landing site.

"What?" Dietrich's face darkened. "Damn it, don't they know how important this mission is? Couldn't they fly higher when crossing enemy lines? Damn it! They're going to ruin everything!"

The officer on the vehicle put the receiver back to his ear. "Oh, sir, they say the plane and the radio are fine. As long as we can find someone to fly it, it's still usable!"

"Fly it? Where am I supposed to find a pilot now? Does he think we're all Hermann Göring here?" Dietrich's first reaction was anger, but he seemed to immediately remember that there were Luftwaffe officers nearby, so he turned to look at Logan.

Logan had heard their conversation and instantly understood what the "fanatic leader" was thinking. Without hesitation, he asked Steffenberg, "Is there anyone among us who can fly that plane?"

Steffenberg said, "Tobias and Karenber have received basic flight training. They might be able to do it! Uh… and me, a licensed amateur pilot!"

"Get us a vehicle to take us there!" Logan shouted to Dietrich.

The "fanatic leader" looked relieved. In his eyes, Leutnant Hans Logan might as well have been a lucky star sent by God!

Logan called over Tobias and Karenber—both had been pilots during the glider landing. However, Tobias said he had never flown anything other than a glider, and Karenber, though he had worked in an aircraft factory, had no experience flying powered planes solo.

Seeing Logan's hesitation, Steffenberg volunteered, "Maybe I should go! At least I've flown an old biplane for a few months!"

Logan had initially wanted his deputy commander to stay and look after the paratroopers, but then he thought, the operation was over, and the paratroopers only needed to wait to go home. As for Steffenberg, his knowledge of various weapons might come in handy during the spotting mission.

"Are you familiar with various ships?"

Steffenberg looked puzzled. "My father was an old navy man. He's obsessed with ships and has collected naval ship catalogs and postcards from various countries, even some of the newer warships launched in recent years! So…"

"Alright, Lenz, I admire you so much!" Logan pulled him onto Dietrich's armored vehicle and said to the SS commander:

"One of us will fly the plane, and the other will handle the spotting!"

"The two of you…?" Dietrich was shocked.

"Yes, we'll be the best duo in history!" Logan said confidently. Even though Steffenberg wasn't an excellent pilot and Logan was a complete novice in radio and spotting, what did it matter? When Adolf Hitler stood before the grand sand table at the High Command, he didn't have a single hour of field command experience either!

The distance from the command post to the landing site was only about two or three kilometers. After getting out of the vehicle, they saw the original pilot and observer being treated by the medics. The pilot's injuries seemed more severe—his head was wrapped in a exaggerated "rice dumpling" bandage similar to Student's. The observer had wounds on his arm and leg, but he could still manage if he had to. As for the plane…

"Holy crap! This is what they call 'fine'? Driving a car without a windshield is painful enough—I can't imagine what flying a plane like this would feel like! After one trip, will my face even look the same? My own mother might not recognize me!"

Logan's complaints weren't unfounded. The Storch's front windshield was more than half gone. At speeds over 200 kilometers per hour, the wind would feel like sharp knives. Facial disfigurement was the least of his worries—if they lost balance and crashed, it would be a real treat!

Even Dietrich thought it was a bit much. He asked his men, "Can we fix this temporarily?"

The answer was no. This wasn't a car, and even repairing a car required specialized tools!

This time, Dietrich didn't lose his temper. "Forget it. I'll request another reconnaissance plane from the army."

Logan's temper came and went quickly. He asked, "How long will that take?"

The "fanatic leader" thought for a moment. "Hard to say. Maybe an hour, maybe not until tomorrow."

Logan shook his head. Time was precious now. Every hour, hundreds or even thousands of Allied soldiers were escaping Dunkirk. Even if the number didn't reach the astonishing 338,000 of history, Logan estimated that as long as the evacuation exceeded 200,000, the results of Operation Cyanide so far would only count as a tactical victory of little strategic significance.

Steffenberg returned from the pilot's side and said, "It's fine. We can keep the speed around 150 kilometers after takeoff. Even without a windshield, it won't be too much trouble."

"150 kilometers?"

Logan thought about it. Even a motorcycle could reach that speed on the highway. He turned to Dietrich and said, "Get us two pairs of goggles!"

"No problem!" Dietrich immediately ordered his adjutant to do so.

Logan quickly walked over to the observer lying under a tree. "Tell me the basics of spotting!"

The blond, thin-faced observer said, "It's simple. If the shell lands too far, you say 'too far' over the radio. If it's too close, say 'too close.' Then estimate the approximate distance—the more accurate, the better! Make sure you know 'left' and 'right.' Follow the direction of the shell—that's your left and right. Otherwise, you'll have to reverse it! Also, the radio is already tuned to the frequency. No need to adjust it!"

Though the explanation was a bit convoluted, Logan felt confident he could handle this temporary role.

A few minutes later, Steffenberg successfully started the plane.

"Hans, take care of yourself!" Dietrich handed over the motorized infantry's goggles and said earnestly.

"Don't worry! I've got a long life ahead of me!" Logan laughed. After all, he had already "died" once. If he died again, who knows? He might time-travel into the body of some ancient emperor!

Under the watchful eyes of the SS soldiers, the Storch, which had landed smoothly, took off with a somewhat worrying bounce. If they could hear the conversation between the two officers in the plane, they might have second thoughts:

"Hey, Lenz, sorry, how do I turn on this radio?"

"Hey, Lenz, this machine gun is my responsibility, right? Where's the spare ammo?"

"Hey, Lenz, is that our fuel gauge? The fuel doesn't seem like much. Is it enough for a round trip…?"