Chapter 218 Battlefield Magician

Under the dark, brooding night sky, the tumultuous waves of the Irish Sea made the ocean surface appear particularly menacing. Any vessel navigating here would be subject to the cold, tumultuous waters, as experienced by the British gunboats that patrolled these waters regularly. Under the flag of St. George, the sailors scanned the surroundings with searchlights, but the sea conditions were so harsh that they could hardly discern whether the distant dark objects were waves or the conning towers of German submarines. After circling for half an hour, the gunboat finally lethargically headed towards Belfast Harbor, over 30 nautical miles away. There, comfortable beds and hearty meals awaited, far from the reach of the German Luftwaffe and ground forces. According to geographical positioning and the speculations of British high command, the Germans would consider crossing the North Sea only after advancing to southern Scotland's Stranraer and Luce Bay. Currently, the most significant threat to Northern Ireland and Belfast was the delicate neutrality of the Irish government!

Just over ten minutes after the departure of the British patrol boat, a submarine with a streamlined hull stealthily surfaced. In the darkness of the night, its black silhouette resembled that of an agile shark. Crew members, clad in waterproof ponchos, cautiously emerged from the hatch and ascended onto the deck. Some operated the deck guns and machine guns at the bow and stern, swiftly preparing for combat due to the proximity to enemy shores, while others hurriedly released and inflated lifeboats secured to the deck. Four figures in black climbed into one of these lifeboats and rowed away from the submarine, gradually disappearing into the rolling waves.

In London, January was cold, damp, and lifeless. Since the German Christmas Offensive, the once-glorious capital of the British Empire, along with its surrounding areas, had been isolated. Over two million British troops and civilians trapped within the defense perimeter of London relied on meager supplies and scarce maritime transportation for sustenance. More critically, they had to remain vigilant against German attacks, anxiously anticipating any signs of enemy action.

The oppressive atmosphere persisted for over a fortnight, with the sea breeze dispersing the overcast clouds. The sky finally cleared, but since the German sweep through Western Europe and the invasion of Britain, the British seemed to detest such sunny weather more and more.

Early in the morning, the tranquility of West London was shattered by the roar from above. Observers stationed atop buildings quickly spotted four German bombers flying at approximately 2000 meters altitude, each featuring a single wing, twin engines, and a transparent cockpit canopy. Just as they passed the outskirts of the British defensive line, the anti-aircraft guns deployed in parks, green spaces, and squares began spewing gray smoke, their constant booming echoing as if to reassure the enemy that London was far from surrendering. The sustained barrage of anti-aircraft fire failed to bring down a single German aircraft, and they leisurely flew over the city, opening their bomb bays to release a flurry of white leaflets. Though the message varied daily, it consistently urged the British to surrender, as they supposedly had no other choice!

British anti-aircraft gunners remained tirelessly vigilant, but the Thames River Guard had a more demanding task. The despicable Germans continued to drop mines upstream, and these old-fashioned, spiky, spherical explosive devices were like hedgehogs in the water, bobbing up and down, visible yet elusive. Though the Thames River no longer saw British warships or transport vessels, these mines posed a significant threat to bridges. Hence, the British had installed iron nets on the river surface and, like fishermen, spent their days fishing out these mines. However, mine clearance was a perilous task, and the occasional thunderous explosion left relatives of the Thames Guard members who were on duty trembling with fear.

Equally oppressive to the nerves of Londoners were the daily long-range artillery bombardments and incessant radio broadcasts. Though the heavy shells consistently fell short of the Thames Estuary, the broadcasts always boasted of German victories on the front lines. More and more British troops and civilians preferred an outright confrontation, but the Germans seemed in no hurry to swallow the spirit of the British Empire whole. Perhaps they feared the ubiquitous presence of anti-tank tripods, over a thousand anti-tank guns, and the British version of the "Molotov cocktail." Or perhaps they were merely enjoying this cat-and-mouse game, waiting for the British forces within the London Defense Circle to venture out of their strongholds and into their crosshairs. Nevertheless, in this cold January, they continued to methodically and slowly sweep through the remaining cities of central England and the entire Wales. On average, the German army captured two towns each day, expanding their occupied area by hundreds of square kilometers, and constructing a new airfield. The force slated for the invasion of Britain was growing by 8,000 to 10,000 troops daily, meaning that by the end of January, Field Marshal von Rundstedt's forces had increased to over 50,000 men, accounting for sixty percent of the Army Group A's strength. In the initial two versions of Operation Sea Lion, one estimated that the British would surrender quickly, requiring only around 200,000 troops to secure victory; the other, more cautious one, anticipated staunch British resistance and thus called for the entire Army Group A to be committed, with even a portion of Army Group B's elite armored units and battle-hardened infantry divisions being allocated to support the operation. However, if the British were determined to defend every inch of their soil, then the eventual outcome might necessitate a significant expenditure of German manpower and resources, potentially turning the entire British Isles into a wasteland!

The clearing weather also meant that both air forces were emerging from their previous "hibernation." The Germans eagerly intensified their aerial reconnaissance of northern Britain, with long-range reconnaissance planes equipped with sophisticated optical equipment making three daily visits to the major ports of Northern England. Meanwhile, Bf-109s or Bf-110s equipped with aerial photography equipment utilized their speed advantage to conduct frequent reconnaissance of British deployments in the northern regions of England. In contrast, the activities of the Royal Air Force were much more cautious. A small number of Spitfires were modified into high-speed reconnaissance aircraft, eagerly monitoring the movements and deployments of the German air force and ground forces. Their reconnaissance focus primarily concentrated on the line from Liverpool to Grimsby and the German rear area. In the minds of British commanders, if the Germans were preparing to advance northward, their air force and tank formations would first concentrate in designated operational areas.

But this time, they clearly miscalculated!

Under the bright midday sun, at a large military airfield located in the southern outskirts of Nottingham, rows of German fighters and bombers with blue-green camouflage paint were neatly arranged on the aprons on either side of the runway. Near the warehouses, trailers, fuel trucks, fire engines, and half-tracked armored vehicles could be seen everywhere. The tall, linear antennas, once a common sight along the British coastline, now surrounded the airport, forming an extensive network of anti-aircraft gun emplacements. The sheer number of familiar 88mm anti-aircraft guns, their barrels angled skyward, created a unique "forest" of weaponry.

A wheeled armored vehicle and a Sdkfz251 armored communication vehicle with antennas raced into the airport, located about 50 miles from the frontline positions. In the sunlight, their metallic bodies and the roar of their engines as they moved sharply contrasted with the motionless vehicles around them. After traversing the entire airfield, they finally halted next to a large fortress, more than 2000 meters from the runway, its top covered with camouflage netting and layers of soil. Compared to the massive concrete structure, the entrance looked minuscule, resembling the vent of a giant tortoise. Although the officers who disembarked from the vehicles concealed their ranks beneath gray overcoats, the medals gleaming on their lapels prompted the soldiers standing on either side to raise their rifles in a salute.

"Salute!"

As he walked, Logan returned the salute with solemnity yet a hint of ease. With Hermann Göring consigned to hell, the German Luftwaffe had returned to the earthly realm, and the changes in this elite force were not limited to their combat style. Between the traditional salute and the Nazi salute, neither the Army High Command nor the Air Force Command had made any formal requests. However, considering the matter pragmatically, the focus of soldiers should remain on their duties rather than politics. Though the impact of an individual's actions might be subtle, over time, their influence would gradually become apparent!

Contrary to expectations, the large underground fortress was not as bleak as imagined. Heated by boilers and powered by internal combustion engines, it was warm and brightly lit, with simple yet adequate furnishings. The excellent environment allowed the officers to work with joy, and their performance indirectly affected the execution of Operation Trojan Horse.

"Salute!"

Seeing the arrival of the Imperial Air Force Operations Department Minister, everyone immediately ceased their work. The highest-ranking officer among them was an Air Force Major General in his fifties. Though his rank was one level higher than Logan's, his position made him speak in a report-like tone to introduce the situation here:

"This morning, four British reconnaissance planes flew near the airfield, and the armored target area was also reconnoitered multiple times. According to the predetermined plan, our fighters and anti-aircraft guns cautiously counterattacked, only damaging one of them! If the British planes return in the afternoon, should we launch a genuine counterattack?"

"Counterattack? Yes, counterattack! Starting this afternoon, shoot down several British reconnaissance planes that come our way, without any hesitation!" Logan decisively made the decision. Although the Air Force's specific command on the Western Front was the responsibility of Field Marshal von Schleicher, as part of Operation Trojan Horse, he had the authority to deploy troops as needed. If these overlapping chains of command were not managed properly, operational deficiencies could occur, making timely communication necessary.

"Understood!" The seasoned veteran said joyfully, "If the British realize they've spent a considerable price attacking mere decoys, their mood will surely sour!"

"More than sour, they'll be beating their chests and tearing their hair out!" Logan walked to the observation window and, using a movable periscope, observed the scene. From a distance, who would have guessed that the aircraft and vehicles on the airfield were temporary constructions made of wooden boards and painted? Though the weather had been terrible recently, the German soldiers had not been idle. Whether or not they had carpentry and painting skills was not important; mimicking and copying was not difficult! Now, everything was ready, waiting for the British to cleverly throw their recently recovered airpower into preemptive attacks on the German "frontline airfields" and "armored unit assembly areas." Once ensnared, for every British aircraft lost, one fewer would be available for the Battle of Belfast a week later, naturally tipping the scales of victory!