A New Crisis

The nearly half-hour-long artillery barrage had just ended when the French forces outside seized the opportunity to launch another assault on the western defenses of Wormhout. However, the pure infantry formation posed no threat to the heavily fortified SS positions. The battle began and ended quickly, once again proving that the term "limp" could describe not only a man's performance in bed but also the French military's current state.

"Stay here! There are landmines everywhere outside. Don't wander off!"

After settling "Little Sophie Marceau" and her family near the new field hospital and fetching them a pot of water, Logan reminded them in French.

"Will we die?" The French girl's eyes were filled with terror. Her small, pale hand tightly gripped Logan's sleeve, a gesture that reinforced his belief that his earlier recklessness hadn't been entirely in vain.

"Don't worry! The fighting will end soon, and so will the war. As long as I'm here, you'll all survive. I promise!"

"Do you mean it?" The girl looked up at him with utmost seriousness.

The fake paratrooper officer, who had no particular faith, wasn't sure what to swear by in this situation. After a moment's thought, he said, "Yes, I promise! By the name of the dandelion!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a loud explosion echoed nearby. Logan's mind immediately conjured the concept of "divine retribution," but... he had no intention of breaking his promise!

However, the now somewhat battle-hardened Luftwaffe lieutenant quickly regained his composure: this was a battlefield, and the sound was clearly an explosion—likely not from artillery.

"Someone's entered the minefield!"

This announcement reignited the tension among the German soldiers who had just begun to relax. The southern and northern defensive positions had previously been untouched, and compared to the low-lying terrain to the south, the northern side was relatively elevated. Attacking from this direction would require crossing a long, gentle slope, making it the most defensible side. After the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler occupied Wormhout, they had established a temporary airfield, field hospital, and ammunition depot here. During the earlier artillery barrage, this area had indeed suffered the least damage.

It seemed this last refuge was about to become a battlefield.

"Stay here! Don't move!"

With that, Logan led his paratroopers toward the nearby German positions. Although defending this area wasn't his responsibility, if the Allies broke through and ultimately captured Wormhout, he and his men would either die or be captured. For Logan, who was transitioning from aimlessness to ambition, this would be an absolute tragedy.

Along the way, many SS soldiers who had left their positions for various reasons were also rushing back.

Boom!

Another explosion lit up the dark northern wilderness with a brief flash of fire.

"Enemy spotted! Prepare for battle!"

An SS officer no more than five meters from Logan shouted to his men. But a second later, the crisp sound of machine gun fire rang out from the distance. Dark red tracers shot out of the darkness, and the unlucky officer was hit and fell to the ground.

This time, without Steffenberg's "help," Logan executed a perfect dive to the ground, just as bullets whizzed overhead.

"Damn it! The enemy's machine gun is right in front of our positions!"

It was hard to estimate distances accurately in the dark, but bullets couldn't possibly come from beyond the machine gun's range, right?

If the attackers had advanced within machine gun range, the next step would be an infantry charge over the last few hundred meters.

Logan was deeply worried.

Taking advantage of a lull in the enemy's machine gun fire, he quickly got up and led his paratroopers at full speed toward the trenches.

Despite having stayed up all night, his movements were unusually agile.

Once in the trench, Logan saw that although the battle had started suddenly, many SS soldiers were already firing their weapons toward the front. The roar of several MG-34 machine guns was unmistakable, and while the rifle fire sounded thin, it was still quite imposing when combined.

A few meters to his left was a machine gun position. An officer-like figure was directing two gunners to fire forward. Logan was about to approach and ask for details when a sharp whistle pierced the air. Before he could react, a blinding flash erupted nearby, accompanied by a deafening shockwave.

Logan was thrown to the ground by the invisible force. When he got up, he saw that the machine gun team had vanished. Charred bodies lay on the ground, and the famed MG-34, known for its rate of fire and reliability, was reduced to a smoldering fragment.

His head was still spinning, but when he saw another machine gun team further away meet the same fate, his thoughts became crystal clear: the cunning British had set off landmines, used machine guns to draw out the German firepower, and then systematically destroyed the positions with small-caliber artillery. This would significantly reduce resistance when their infantry launched the final charge.

But why hadn't the enemy used this tactic during the earlier battles on the eastern and western side?

Logan forced himself to calm down: right, during the previous battles, the German machine guns had waited until the Allied infantry were within effective range before opening fire. If the Allies had tried to "clear" the positions with small-caliber artillery, they would have had to contend with German artillery, which was pre-positioned and supported by flares. This time, however, the SS soldiers had opened fire in panic, without coordination or artillery support, falling right into the enemy's trap.

Having figured this out, Logan had no time to feel relieved. He approached a nearby SS soldier. "Hey, buddy, where's your field command post?"

"Field command post?" The soldier was clearly confused by Logan's improvised terminology, but he was quick-witted. "If you mean our assault team's command post? It's about 50 meters east!"

"Good! Hold your fire for now and stay hidden!" Leaving the still-baffled soldier with this instruction, Logan quickly ran east along the trench.

The so-called assault team command post wasn't much better than Peters' artillery command post: a two-by-two-meter space jutting out from a bend in the trench, covered with a makeshift roof and some dirt. It could stop bullets and shrapnel, but a direct artillery hit would still be fatal.

Inside the command post were three men: one shouting into a telephone, one peering through an observation slit with binoculars, and one standing cluelessly to the side.

As the saying goes, "When enemies meet, their eyes blaze with hatred." Logan immediately recognized the man on the phone as Marco Rost, Dietrich's adjutant and an SS lieutenant—one rank below him.

"Where's your commander? Why are the soldiers firing randomly?" Logan asked urgently.

The officer with the binoculars turned around. "You are... Oh, Leutnant Logan! Are you referring to our Sturmbannführer Karl? He was ordered to take the reserves to the eastern positions earlier and hasn't returned yet. I heard..."

Logan had no recollection of this SS assault squad leader (equivalent to a staff sergeant). He pressed on, "Heard what?"

"Uh, sir, I heard the troops on the eastern positions suffered heavy casualties in the recent artillery barrage. It's possible that the captain..." Before the squad leader could finish, Marco Rost slammed down the phone and said angrily:

"Bullshit! The command post can't find the Standartenführer or the other Sturmbannführers! No one knows where they are or what to do next! Damn it! Oh... Leutnant Logan, you're here. Ahem! Great! I was just worrying about you and your men..."

Although Logan disliked the man, he had no time to dwell on it. From the snippets of conversation, he deduced the situation: after the intense bombardment by the British warships, the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler's communication and command systems had been disrupted. The lower-ranking officers couldn't locate their superiors, didn't know if they were alive or dead, and were afraid to issue orders to the frontline soldiers without authorization.

"Alright! I'm taking command here now!" After a moment's thought (about one-fortieth of the time it takes to burn an incense stick), Logan solemnly made this decision.

"What?" The most vehement reaction came from Marco Rost, who had perhaps been considering taking command of the unit himself.