Chapter 2: The Deputy's Thoughts

Before knocking on the door, Logan adjusted his collar intentionally. It was quite frustrating for a soldier to button up every button even in the scorching summer, perhaps one of the most inconvenient things for them.

The force used to knock on the door couldn't be too harsh or too weak. Logan admitted to himself that he never quite mastered this gesture.

"Come in!" A serious yet somewhat aloof voice came from inside the room.

Logan gently turned the doorknob and saw a middle-aged man with an exceptionally broad forehead seated behind a large desk. Standing beside him was a tall and attractive female secretary, her chestnut hair coiled neatly at the back of her head, her long, fair legs reaching what Logan considered "top-notch" status.

The 48-year-old Deputy Commander of the Air Force swiftly moved his pen, seemingly signing a document, and then elegantly put it down, glancing at the female secretary with a slight smile before turning his gaze to the door.

"Come in, Major Logan, please take a seat! Amy, please pour a cup of coffee for our guest!"

Logan had intended to say he preferred tea, but seeing that Milch didn't rise to greet him, he held back his words, and proceeded to the chair in front of the desk in an orderly manner.

After the female secretary poured a cup of coffee and left, Milch, the Deputy Commander of the Air Force, finally spoke in a calm tone, "How do you find the work here?"

"Very good!" Logan gave a rather standard answer.

Milch leaned slightly to his left, his eyes, rumored to have Jewish heritage, fixed on the renowned young officer before him. "Hmm, your colleagues speak highly of you, considering you a diligent and ambitious young man. However... accustomed to the battlefield where you fight and excel, it may take some time to adjust to working here with me, won't it?"

"It was a bit challenging at first," Logan replied, steady as a clock.

"Some things you'll gradually get used to, others you never will," Milch's words seemed to carry some hidden meaning, but Logan responded with silence.

"Would you care for some Blue Mountain coffee?" Milch suddenly changed the topic, perhaps sensing the tension building.

Logan took a sip of the coffee, which indeed smelled very fragrant. However, ever since he learned that "Hans Logan" hardly touched coffee and only drank tea in the presence of outsiders, he too had adopted the habit.

"Sorry, I prefer tea," he said.

Milch showed no sign of annoyance. Instead, a strange smile appeared on his face. When Logan almost put the coffee cup back untouched, Milch rubbed his hands together and said without much expectation, "Would you be interested in doing something more practical?"

Logan understood the word "practical" but remained clueless about what practical things he could do, being a layman in both logistics and technology.

"What exactly do you mean?" he asked.

"Major Logan, I know you have extensive experience in airborne operations and played a key role in the establishment of the Model Paratrooper Battalion. Actually, this large glider project... should have a lot to do with you!" Milch turned his face to the other side of his desk, where there was a large drafting board. Whether this high-ranking officer had any interest in drawing and painting was unknown to Logan, but there were several sketches of airplanes hanging there, and even to the untrained eye, they looked like enlarged versions of the DFS 230 assault glider!

"I have design drawings from Klemm and Messerschmitt companies here. Both companies have already started making prototypes!" Milch's tone seemed to boast about his precious collection.

"May I have a look?" Logan asked, a reasonable request even though he knew nothing about aviation technology.

Milch casually raised his right hand, "Of course, I hope you can provide valuable insights based on your combat experience."

Logan went over and took a look. The planes in the sketches didn't have engines or propellers. According to the standard dimensions, even a layman's eyes could see that they were just enlarged versions of the DFS 230 assault glider!

In less than a minute, Logan returned to his seat. This outcome seemed to have been anticipated by Milch, who still wore a pleased expression on his face.

Logan truthfully said, "As long as they can carry tanks and fly, I have no objections personally!"

Milch put away his relaxed demeanor and adopted a somewhat serious expression. "In theory, Klemm's glider can carry fully armed Type II tanks, while Messerschmitt's payload is even larger. However, given that we've never manufactured such large gliders before, whether they can succeed or not, nobody is entirely sure!"

Logan thought for a moment. "I firmly believe that the German Air Force has the capability for this!"

Milch smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness. "That statement is both encouragement and pressure for our experts! Considering the limited strength of the Imperial Navy, the Führer urgently hopes that these large-capacity gliders can airlift heavy equipment such as tanks across the English Channel. Even if it's just an armored regiment, it's enough to establish a solid beachhead!"

Logan detected a hint of complaint and perhaps even mockery in his words. He lowered his head and took the coffee cup on the table, slowly saying, "That was actually a suggestion I made to General Student. In my impression, the German Air Force should have this capability!"

"Theoretical and practical are not always equivalent!" Milch said quietly. After a few seconds of pause, he asked Logan as if seeking his opinion, "I'm planning to appoint you as the overall head of this project. What do you think?"

Logan initially wanted to refuse on the grounds of his lack of technical knowledge. However, he vaguely felt that this was another opportunity for him to change history, and he also wanted to know what the Deputy Commander of the Air Force thought of him and Hermann Göring. Enemies' enemies were often friends, and as for the extent of the relationship between Milch and Göring, there were many speculations from the outside world, which Logan found neither entirely believable nor entirely unbelievable.

"Alright."

As this simple word came out of Logan's mouth, Milch's face clearly showed relief rather than joy.

"But..." Logan intentionally dragged out the word, "if this project were to face financial and personnel shortages because I become the overall responsible person, and if the Fuhrer were to blame the General, wouldn't I be held responsible?"

Milch was momentarily stunned, his body leaving the backrest of his chair as he sat up straight, laughing heartily, "Major, you are truly an interesting person! Don't worry, he never interferes in the details of a project, especially one endorsed by the Fuhrer himself. Moreover... the one who truly decides the project's funding and personnel is me. So, Major Logan, feel free to take charge boldly. I can assure you that I will fully support you in this project! As for Speer's side, I'll handle it!"

From Milch's clear eyes, Logan still couldn't discern his true attitude. Nevertheless, since the book in his hand had been almost completely read, why not seize this opportunity to do something "practical"?