The Dreaded Giants of the Sea

After the two 88mm gun crews fired their fourth salvo, there wasn't a single intact Somua S35 tank left in sight. However, when Logan turned around, he saw Peter still directing his gunners to load more shells.

What was he doing? Using 88mm guns against FT-17 tanks? That was like using a rifle to shoot ants—a complete waste of ammunition!

Logan's confusion was soon answered: moments later, the two heavy anti-aircraft guns fired again, but the shells didn't head straight for the armored targets. Instead, they exploded in mid-air, dozens of meters away from the French troops.

This...

The paratrooper officer was stunned, not by the beauty of the "fireworks," but by the countless shards of shrapnel that erupted from the explosions. Propelled by inertia and the force of the blast, the high-speed fragments scattered like bullets, blanketing a large area of land and the French infantry beneath it in a deadly rain.

Several seconds later, an equally shocked Steffenberg exclaimed, "Time-delay fuses! They're using anti-aircraft tactics against infantry... My God, that's brutal! Even worse than shrapnel shells!"

As surprise turned to admiration, Logan finally understood why Dietrich had "poached" Peter from the Wehrmacht: the guy was a genuine artillery genius!

However, the attacking French forces seemed determined to fight to the death. Even as their tanks were destroyed one after another and their infantry fell to German artillery fire, the survivors continued to advance toward the German positions—placing their necks on the executioner's block for the sake of honor.

At 1,000 meters, German soldiers pulled back their rifle bolts; at 800 meters, they took careful aim; at 600 meters, the trenches erupted with the sound of gunfire. The MG34 machine guns and Mauser 98K rifles fired in unison, composing a sharp and deadly symphony of war.

Watching this scene, Logan knew the battle had turned into a one-sided slaughter. He even saw Dietrich leave Jankel's command post and head toward the 88mm gun crews. Was he going to commend the outstanding gunners ahead of schedule?

A few minutes later, the gunfire on the battlefield, like the climax of an intense love-making session, peaked and then quickly subsided, leaving behind an eerie silence.

The open field ahead was now devoid of any moving figures, reminding Logan of a movie he had seen years ago about the Battle of Nagashino: the seemingly invincible Takeda cavalry was nearly wiped out by the Oda-Tokugawa alliance's volleys of gunfire. The last horseman, having lost his mount, looked around with eyes filled with confusion, fear, and despair...

Just as everyone thought the noisy night would end with a complete Allied retreat, a strange whistling sound suddenly filled the air. It was somewhat reminiscent of a Stuka dive bomber, yet also like the screech of a boiling kettle, disturbing the peace deep within their souls.

"Damn it!" Steffenberg exclaimed. At the same time, Peter, the artillery commander standing nearby, shouted:

"Artillery fire! Enemy heavy artillery! Everyone, take cover!"

"Heavy artillery?" Logan stood frozen. From the sound, it seemed to be coming from the direction of Dunkirk. But he hadn't seen any Allied heavy artillery there yesterday.

Before the rookie lieutenant could think further, three massive fireballs erupted in the open field to the northwest. The deafening explosions sent tremors through the ground beneath their feet.

"My God!" Logan was stunned. The explosions were at least a kilometer away, yet their impact was far more powerful than the bombs dropped by Stukas. How big were those guns?

As the smoke from the first explosions rose into the sky, the piercing whistle sounded again. To the horror of the German soldiers, equally massive fireballs erupted slightly to the east, their thunderous roars still shaking the earth.

"God, it's a British battleship! Everyone, take cover! The enemy's artillery fire will be here soon! The British troops on the outskirts must be guiding their shots!" Peter shouted in terror.

"A battleship?" Logan asked Steffenberg.

"Afraid so! Damn British battleships!" The lieutenant swallowed hard. "Even if it's an old ship, there's nothing we can do!"

Logan suddenly remembered a popular alternate-history World War II novel he had read years ago, Resurrection: Fighting in the Third Empire. The protagonist had lured British battleships close to Dunkirk, then used fortress guns, railway guns, and long-range howitzers to cripple them, finishing the job with torpedo bombers. Not only did they break the backbone of the British Navy, but they also captured some of the ships. It was, without a doubt, the most thrilling land-sea battle he had ever read about.

Unlike the young deputy Führer "Xu Jun" from the novel, Logan was just a small fry. Even if he were given command of the entire Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, he couldn't replicate such a miracle—he couldn't even see the enemy ships!

"Take cover, everyone! Secure your men and equipment, especially the ammunition and fuel! Move, move, move!"

Under Dietrich's command, everyone sprang into action, leaving Logan and his deputy feeling somewhat redundant. Despite knowing it wasn't the best time to interrupt, Logan couldn't help but ask, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dietrich stared at him for two seconds. "Follow my guard platoon."

Though called a platoon, the forty-six burly, blond young men and their eight brand-new armored vehicles would make many army commanders of the same rank envious. It was easy to imagine this small but elite unit being one of the highlights of every parade.

As the explosions grew closer, like a giant wielding a club marching toward the town, Logan quickly gathered his four remaining paratroopers. They helped move the wounded onto the vehicles before hurrying to the command post set up in the eastern part of the town.

Amid the sharp whistles and roaring explosions, the previously empty streets of the town were now filled with hurried figures. On the way to the command post, Logan accidentally collided with someone running from the side.

"Hey, watch it!" Logan wasn't angry. In the heat of battle, picking a fight with a comrade was foolish, especially since the other guy was lighter and had taken a harder fall.

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" The other man apologized even before getting up.

Logan reached out and helped him to his feet. The tall, thin young man wore an SS uniform and, surprisingly, a pair of round glasses.

The SS recruited people with poor eyesight?

Seeing the camera hanging around his neck, Logan immediately understood: he was a war correspondent!

"Oh, you're an Luftwaffe officer? A Leutnant? So... you're Leutnant Hans Logan?" the bespectacled young man asked in surprise after noticing Logan's uniform and insignia.

"That's me!" Logan replied calmly.

"Oh, it really is you! I thought you'd already returned to the rear! I never expected... Could I interview you? Mainly about the raid on the British command post and disrupting their deployment..."

"Ahem... How do you know about these classified details?" Logan asked warily.

"Well... let me introduce myself. Menz Borges, senior war correspondent dispatched by the Reich Ministry of Propaganda!" The bespectacled man quickly showed Logan his ID card, then added, "The SS headquarters has granted me special battlefield reporting privileges, so..."

Although Logan had no prior experience with media figures, he didn't particularly like them. "Alright, whether you obtained this information legally or not, the situation is critical right now. You'd better find a place to hide. Make it a good one!"

With that, Logan led his paratroopers toward the command post. The bespectacled man didn't argue or make a scene but silently followed them. It seemed he had decided that Logan was his next interview target, and he was willing to become an annoying tag-along to achieve his goal.