Chapter 34: Man Proposes, Heaven Disposes

From White Island to France, the nearest port is Cherbourg, located at the northern tip of the Cotentin Peninsula. The Germans have long since occupied it, establishing artillery positions and a frontline airfield. However, wary of potential attacks by the British Royal Air Force, they usually only station a small number of reconnaissance and fighter planes there.

Logan took a ruler and measured it. The straight-line distance on the map between Portsmouth Harbor and Cherbourg was 122 kilometers, or 66 nautical miles. Thanks to the efforts of the German submarine crew, led by Falkenberg, the British minesweeper they captured had been accelerated to 15 knots. At this speed, it would take just over four hours to reach the French coast. But this was only theoretical calculation: the outline of White Island had not yet disappeared from view when a gray-white vessel appeared on the far left horizon!

As enemies of the British Empire Navy, the officers and men of the German submarine force were familiar with various types of British ships. Falkenberg quickly judged it to be a V/W-class destroyer built during the previous war. Although over twenty years old, these destroyers, with a displacement of around 1,500 tons, were equipped with a large number of weapons including 120mm caliber guns, 533mm torpedo tubes, and 76mm anti-aircraft guns, and had some armor protection. In a head-on confrontation, the chance of victory for the 700-ton Bango-class minesweeper should not exceed ten percent!

Stephenberg later gave the same assessment.

"They're signaling with light... it's Morse code... They're asking what's happening on White Island!" Sigmund, the liaison officer on German submarine U-2, interpreted the signal content of the British destroyer using a telescope and the rhythm of the signal lamp.

"Can we send them a signal?"

Logan's question was quite amateurish; Morse code was internationally recognized as a means of communication, and most experienced sailors and naval officers were proficient in it. It was also an important method of communication between ships of different countries during peacetime.

"Of course, but what should we send?" Sigmund asked.

Logan racked his brains, while Stephenberg, playing the role of the military strategist once again, suggested, "Just tell them there was a fierce firefight, we sank a German submarine attempting to infiltrate the harbor, and one managed to escape! Tell them to be on the lookout!"

"Alright, that sounds good!" Logan praised.

Sigmund went up to send the signal. At that moment, Logan remembered his previous speculation and asked Falkenberg about the situation with the other submarine in the action plan.

"We set sail with U-5, and Submarine Headquarters also dispatched U-6 as reinforcement. We arrived near White Island as scheduled early this morning. However, while waiting for your signal, we encountered consecutive British warships—they seemed to have intentionally strengthened their patrols in this area! At around 3:10 in the morning, we heard the sound of depth charges exploding, but they were not aimed at us!" Falkenberg appeared calm as he spoke, but the hint of sorrow in his eyes exposed his true thoughts.

This was precisely what Logan was thinking. However, if one were to point out any difference in thinking between him and the submarine's chief engineer next to him, it would be that Logan thought further and deeper.

"Recent aerial reconnaissance showed that British warships in this area mostly hide in ports like Portsmouth during the day. Many anti-aircraft guns have been added around those ports, indicating that they are quite wary of our air force! But today..." Logan gritted his teeth. "Could they have learned about our operation through some channels?"

"Could it be that recent aerial reconnaissance has attracted their attention?" Although the stout, middle-aged chief engineer had a handsome face with a strong attraction to the opposite sex, especially with his thick, blue, deep eyes under his dense eyebrows, he still had a mysterious aura.

"No, that's unlikely! To avoid attracting the attention of the British, the air force sends out dozens of planes for reconnaissance photography to different locations each time. And the pilots have no idea what the reconnaissance is for!" Logan glanced at Stephenberg. "Then... it's really strange! They couldn't have deciphered our Enigma code, could they?"

The chief engineer's words reminded Logan: regardless of whether the recent changes were due to a leak in the code, according to some historical documentaries, the British had been able to accurately decipher German telegraph codes by the end. If this couldn't be changed, even the most ingenious tactics would become a dead end!

A few minutes later, Stephenberg, who had been standing by the porthole observing the British destroyer, said, "It's heading towards White Island!"

"Indeed, a clever trick!" Logan praised, giving a thumbs-up to the "arsenal of knowledge".

Stephenberg didn't show much joy on his face. Before long, another vessel appeared on the sea. Upon identification, it turned out to be an irregularly armed tugboat—usually used for low-intensity tasks such as nearshore patrols and fleet support.

Perhaps due to its lower rank or being tasked with other missions, the armed tugboat, which appeared from the southwest and was slowly heading north, did not send any light signals. Moreover, when the two ships were closest, they were still several kilometers apart. Ultimately, they just passed each other by: for both parties, this peaceful coexistence might have been the best choice!

After half an hour of sailing, White Island finally disappeared from view. In the vast sea, there were no birds or fish to be seen, as if these creatures had sensed the increasingly intense smell of war and wisely chosen to flee.

On the deck, Thomas Miller and his gunners had already cleaned the empty shell casings and brought some ammunition from the magazine to prepare for any imminent combat. Lieutenant Scherme and the other paratroopers were dispersing the radar equipment, which had been piled up in the open, to safer compartments. Everything seemed busy and orderly, but Logan's uneasy mood did not ease. After circling the fore and aft decks, he climbed up to the lookout tower. With a rifle slung over his back, Thomas was on watch with a large pair of binoculars, vigilant in all directions.

"Hey, buddy, nothing unusual, right?" Logan handed him a cigarette. In terms of taste, the exquisitely packaged British cigarette was milder and softer than the German brand, but deep down, Logan longed for a robust Brazilian cigar: he had been fortunate enough to smoke one back home, and the feeling still lingered in his mind.

Unfortunately, cigars were not something ordinary people could afford.

"Not much going on for now!" Thomas accepted the cigarette, smiling. "Captain, it turns out my choice was correct. Being able to participate in such an operation, I can proudly tell my descendants about my story when I get old!"

"Your ideals are indeed unique!" Logan smiled kindly.

"Yeah, others think my ideas are strange, but there's nothing strange about it. There are many kinds of happiness in life: love, money, and hobbies. Doing what you love, I think that's happiness!" Thomas spoke, attempting to strike a match, but the wind on the lookout tower was too strong. Every time the match was lit, it was blown out. He tried five or six times but still couldn't light the cigarette in his mouth, so he shook his head helplessly.

"Happiness sometimes comes down to just a cigarette!" Logan laughed, taking out a lighter from his pocket. As he shielded the wind with one hand, Thomas looked down and happened to see a silver-gray dot emerge from the clouds in the eastern sky. If it hadn't reflected the sunlight, such a flying object would have been difficult to detect with the naked eye alone!

"What's that?" Logan exclaimed in surprise.

Thomas quickly picked up the binoculars and took a look. "Uh-oh, I'm afraid it's a British aircraft!"

Logan squinted. "Is it a fighter or a bomber?"

Thomas shook his head. "With a single engine and biplane wings, it's hard to say... it could be a reconnaissance plane or a light bomber!"

Taking a deep breath, Logan shouted down below, "Attention, enemy aircraft spotted to the north!"

In an instant, the tense and solemn atmosphere once again dominated the warship.