Three Hundred and Ninety-Eight Stubborn People

On the ruins of a pile of buildings like a hill, John picked up a broken photo frame, shook off the broken glass on it, and picked out the photos inside the photo frame. In the photo is a very happy family of three, everyone has a happy smile on their faces.

He raised his head with difficulty, looked at the burning building not far away, smiled wryly and threw the photo frame under his feet. The family died in the bombing yesterday, they did not have time to hide in the bomb shelter, they had to hide in the basement of the building.

A dozen elderly people and some children with poor legs and feet also escaped together. Now they are buried under the ruins and roasted by the fire ignited by napalm bombs for 2 hours. John knew they were dead, and very ugly.

John is now in uniform and a member of the British Army. The area he is now in charge of is probably several times the size of the original, managing about 2,000 volunteers and 4 armed soldiers. Of course, he was under the command of the original British military officer, and he belonged to the air defense force at the rear, so he didn't have to go to the beach to prepare to fight the German landing force.

Holding the photo, he staggered on the ruins, bypassed a half-buried iron bed, and walked to the top of the ruins step by step. There were two men with armbands nodding at him. It reminded John of how he had looked before, and he managed to force a smile and nod in return.

The Germans dispatched nearly 200 planes in yesterday's bombing, and hundreds of tons of bombs were dropped in downtown London, a scale John had never seen before. In the past, German bombers also frequently visited London, but they bombed industrial areas and some secret factories in the suburbs more often. They just dropped some remaining bombs in the urban area and then left.

But yesterday's air strike was obviously aimed at downtown London, and this time it was obviously aimed at retaliation for something. The Germans dropped an appalling amount of napalm, and most of the buildings were badly damaged.

Most of the houses in London have become ruins, and the Germans visited London seven times in just ten days, including three days of rest. The Hurricane fighter production line in the suburbs of London can only replenish lost fighter jets for the Royal Air Force at a rate of 1 to 2 per day.

"John, has the number of casualties been counted?" A young messenger rode a motorcycle and stopped under the ruins, took out a statistical record book from the pocket hanging on the side of the motorcycle, and kicked Supporting the motorcycle, he shouted loudly to John on the ruins.

"How could it be possible to count them?" John kicked the rubble on the ruins, and replied helplessly: "There are still 45 buried below. If you count them all, there are 711 people, or more."

"Don't be too sad. Your area is relatively small. In the most serious area in the south of the city, the ventilation system of an air-raid shelter was blocked by German incendiary bombs. I heard that more than 2,900 people died inside." The young signal soldier persuaded.

"When will the relief food be distributed? That's the fatal thing." John stepped down from the ruins, tripped over something, and managed not to fall. He scrambled and stood firm, then raised his head and asked anxiously: "The shop hasn't opened for three days, and many of them have run out of food."

"I don't know. I heard that there was another ship that docked yesterday, but I heard that when did the munitions and food transport ship from the United States dock? I think... about three days ago. .” The young officer thought for a while before speaking.

John also knew that a grain transport ship docked three days ago, and also knew that half of the grain was sent to the southern coastline defense. After all, there are tens of thousands of people waiting to eat there.

John sighed, fumbled out a flat cigarette case from his pocket, poured out the only two cigarettes from it, and handed them to the young messenger: "Friend, you have a lot of connections, help me, Our family has no food, can you find a way to get some?"

"I knew you had to say that." The young messenger said with a smile on his face, "Since everyone is so familiar, I won't ask for more, four hundred!"

Without saying a word, John began to rummage through his pockets, and finally found all the money hidden in his body: "I gave you all the six hundred, give me a little more."

"I really have a big appetite." The young messenger stuffed the money into his pocket, then took out two bags of bread and some margarine written in German from the pocket hanging on the motorcycle, and then He dug out a bag of dried fish, and took out three small packets of American flour the size of a palm: "I only have so much, I'll give it to you."

He pointed to the margarine produced in Germany, and said proudly: "German products, I heard that even their Acado uses this brand. It was smuggled and cost a lot of money! From the United States The delivery of food is not timely, and the interval is too large. Once it is sunk, it will not be slowed down for more than ten days... Although the risk of smuggling from the Netherlands and Denmark is high, it is fast anyway.”

"There are also traitorous lunatics among the Germans." John looked at the German margarine in his hand, the clumsy packaging on it, and the face of the head of state that had been distorted by multiple printings, and pouted: "It's really for them. Shame on the Führer."

"Isn't it?" The young messenger nodded, "I heard that he is a big shot with a lot of background."

John was silent for a few seconds, and then asked again: "Do you think the Germans will land?"

"The people above speculate that the possibility of landing is as high as 90%, so we are constantly expanding our defensive forces in several suitable places for landing." The reason why the young signal soldier knows so much is thanks to his powerful In his family, his grandfather was said to be a general and knew a lot of military secrets.

"Can you stand it?" John asked again.

The young signal soldier looked around and replied cautiously in a low voice: "I don't know about that. The brochures said that we will definitely be able to beat the Germans back to their hometown, but no one can say what the outcome will be." Ah. My grandfather privately said the chances of victory are less than half."

He sighed and said to John: "My grandfather said that about half of the forts were built during the last war and are currently being refitted. However, due to lack of supplies, most of them can only use the original things."

"Then how can we stop the German attack?" John couldn't help asking because it was the first time he heard that London, where he was, was so dangerous.

"To be honest, those defensive facilities 20 years ago are already very strong, and some major areas are well prepared, so I think there should be no problem?"

After saying this, he said goodbye, then started the motorcycle, and with the roar of the engine, he disappeared at the corner of the next street.

John looked at the things at his feet, as well as a sack given to him by the messenger before he left. In peacetime, these things would not even cost half of the current price. With a wry smile, John put the sack on his shoulders, wanting to take some time to rush back to the air-raid shelter and deliver the food to his wife.

However, he found a few ragged volunteers around him, each with hesitation, as if they wanted to speak.

Of course he knew what these people wanted to do, so he didn't rush to speak, but waited for these people to speak first. In front of these volunteers, he, the head of the military, is the kind of powerful person who is well-informed, hands-on, and eye-catching, just like a signal soldier or a backer-like officer in his eyes.

After a stalemate for a few seconds, a man finally spoke first: "Sir, these foods... yes, can you give us some." The others did not speak, but the expressions on their faces clearly stated that they were waiting with the answer.

"That depends on how much money you have." John replied: "You must have seen it too. I also spent money to save my life. If it is cheaper, I will not do it!"

"I have 300 here!" The man held out his banknotes very wittily, and he had to take out more money, because several mouths at home were waiting for him to take food back.

"I have 300 here too!" The other person hurriedly took out the money, but the last volunteer seemed to be short of money, his face flushed anxiously, but he couldn't come up with the money.

"Butter, flour!" John took out the things, leaving bread, dried fish, and the remaining packet of flour. Skillfully stuffing the money into his pocket, he walked back with the rest of the things. Judging from the value, the sack and food in his hand are almost for nothing.

After walking for a street, he realized that the man with no money was still following him, his face flushed, but he hesitated to speak. John didn't say much, opened his pocket, and threw the dried fish to the man: "Go back and watch for me, come to me if you have any questions!"

The man nodded gratefully: "Thank you! I will repay you." After speaking, he carried the dried fish and ran all the way back to the ruins that John was in charge of.

John came to the entrance of the air-raid shelter on the side of the street, and walked down the seemingly steep stairs. The dead body had long since disappeared, but the bloodstains and rubble were still there to prove the story that had happened.

Every time he passed by, he had to look at that corner, at the pool of blood and the dusty rubble.

"Honey." Seeing that his wife had children, John's mood improved. He trotted over, picked up his children, and then handed the food to his wife: "I got some Food, flour for Mrs. Mary."

Mrs. Mary was their new neighbor, the wife of the officer whom John was backing. Their family moved in the day before yesterday and was squeezed together with John's family. Like all British people, life is getting harder and harder these days.