Four Hundred and Fourteen Long Night

"This was the longest night in my life. When I saw the dawn, I felt like I was born again." - William Donner, a veteran of the German 1st Airborne Division.

The bullet hit the tree branch, smashing the shriveled tree branch into pieces. The German paratroopers lay calmly under the dead tree, waiting for the British soldiers attacking on the opposite side to get closer. They set up machine gun positions on the left and right flanks, and as long as the British got into this pocket, they would be massacred.

They were battle-hardened veterans, not freshly recruited laymen who fired casually. They long to be alive, because one of their lives is worth ten or even twenty enemy lives.

Boroll lay on his back in the temporarily dug foxhole, squinted his eyes and looked at the densely attacking British on the opposite side, and curled his lips, thinking that these British guys really deserve to die. They don't seem to have learned how to attack, nor do they seem to be able to master real combat skills. Such an attack will only keep their casualties high, and they will be defeated under the massacre of German machine guns.

German paratroopers have experienced countless such conquests. They are good at fighting alone in the enemy's rear. They are good at capturing important military objectives as soon as they land, and then holding their positions until the last moment. For the rest of the german army this night was their first night in england, but definitely not for the german paratroopers, they are used to the cold and wind with their faces in the dirt, they are used to killing and dying on nights like this .

Aren't there so many people yearning for special forces? Aren't there so many people who worship the King of Soldiers? Jumping down from an altitude of 5,000 meters under heavy anti-aircraft artillery fire, and then letting the wind sway in the rain of bullets until it landed on the ground, pick up the gun and start attacking your target. You may be alone, and There might be two or three, but you have to attack, then hold your ground near the target you took from the enemy's guns, and maybe a day, maybe two days, maybe a lifetime without reinforcements coming.

If there are really warrior kings and fearless warriors in this world, then these German paratroopers are the people who are closest to this title. Most of them kill like hemp, and most of them regard death as home in indifference Even cold-blooded.

"Squeak..." The sound of the German G42 machine gun tearing linen roared again. This machine gun is known all over the world as "Acado's Saw". Most new soldiers will be repeatedly emphasized by the instructors that this machine gun is terrible during training. As a light machine gun, it can have the continuous firepower of a heavy machine gun, and as a heavy machine gun, it can also have the sudden mobility of a light machine gun. Countless people complain about this weapon and why it is not a weapon in their own hands.

The firing of this machine gun meant that someone was down, and the sudden and intense firepower paid a heavy price for the attacking British soldiers. The tracer bullets are so bright at night. While indicating the shooting direction for the shooter, it also exposes the location of the machine gun position to the opponent's shooter.

It is a pity that the transfer of German machine gun positions is probably the fastest in the world,

Because their machine guns may be the best in the hands of armies all over the world, and their own experience is also the most experienced among machine gunners in the world.

After a short burst of violent shooting, before the British could react, the positions of the German machine guns had shifted, and at this time, the British bullets began to sweep towards those places in the distance that were still firing violently just now but were now extremely silent.

"This group of boy scouts who have never fought, how did they beat our landing troops so badly on the beach?" Bolor looked at the British soldiers who kept firing in the distance to expose their position and density, with a serious face on their faces. Full of disdain and contempt.

"Maybe it's because our army isn't that good?" Baloo said with a smile, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, "After all, we can't be both airborne and marines."

Borol smiled softly: "You are getting more and more humorous now...ready to shoot, they are coming."

"Thug! Thug!" "Boom! Boom!" MP-44 assault rifles and G43 rifles began to fire violently, and the entire front of the German defense line was suddenly covered in flames. The density of firepower that the German army is proud of turned the attacked area ahead into hell in an instant. The British soldiers who were not familiar with night battles were beaten so dizzy that they collapsed before they could even fight back.

The corpses of hundreds of British soldiers were just thrown in front of the German positions. They failed to capture the small town of Bit alive, and they did not even see the place that once belonged to Britain. They were one of the countless people who died in this long night, not wronged or great. They shed blood for their country, but few people can remember their names.

"Boom! Boom!" The British artillery, which was suppressed by German bombers during the day, played its due level at night. The shells rained down on the heads of the German paratroopers, and the whole position trembled.

"It's shelling again, can't these idiots do something else?" Bolor, leaning against the foxhole, shook off the gravel and rubble from his helmet, casually lit a cigarette and put it on the mouth.

There is really no other tricks. In the headquarters of the 4th Division of the British 4th Army not far away, the British commanders are anxiously urging their men to take down the opposite defensive position as soon as possible, so that they can Advance to the vicinity of Bit Town—after all, it is almost 12 o'clock, but they haven't even seen the shadow of Bit Town.

"Bakton must be recaptured before 5 o'clock, otherwise the second batch of German landing troops will enter the UK there! None of us can afford this responsibility!" Powell's voice roared loudly on the phone, making the 4th The division commander on the front line had to stay away from the telephone receiver.

All the British troops near Bute Town wanted to eat the small town in front of them, but the German paratroopers built a criss-cross defense like fish scales within a kilometer deep around the town. The position, they started to attack at 8:10 in the night, and they have not been able to really get close to Bit until now.

The tenacity and tenacity of the German paratroopers are far from what these British recruits can understand. More than half of the troops that the British and German troops have fought are in Montgomery's army. It is no exaggeration to say that those Dutch and Belgian troops who have actually seen or dealt with German paratroopers are either squatting in concentration camps or lying in graves at this time.

At this time, General Student, who had set up his own front-line headquarters in Bakton, spoke out the aspirations of the German paratroopers in unceremonious words before going to bed: "Use infantry to beat my paratroopers? They haven't slept yet." Wake up! When will they move the tanks, when will they wake me up again!"

Although there is some conceit in what he said, it also reflects the combat effectiveness of the German paratroopers from one side-from Poland to Norwich, England, the German paratroopers have never been defeated by enemy infantry.

Just because they have never been defeated does not mean that they will not be defeated this time; because their fighting power is strong, it does not mean that they are truly invincible. All of this can only explain one problem, that is, these German paratroopers who were covered in dust and endured rounds of enemy attacks in the mud paid more and sacrificed more than others.

How can one join the army and become an invincible soldier? They just accumulate and learn in one battle after another: learning from their own wounds, learning from the corpses of their comrades in arms, learning from the muzzles and artillery fire of the enemy, learning how to be indifferent, learning how to endure, learning how to victory.

But there are some things that cannot be learned, such as luck. Boroll hugged his steel helmet and sat next to a corpse, quietly smoking. He had been with his Baru when he airborne from Belgium, and was killed in the shelling just now.

Silently, the shrapnel hit his head, piercing the helmet and skull, and his death was neither tragic nor tortuous at all. He died simply like those British recruits who were beaten to death.

Boroll thought of that bloody battle in the small town of Holland, he remembered that dead vigorous bearded man, he remembered the embarrassment of himself calling Baloo over and over again, and he remembered the proud look of the two standing in front of Akado …Sometimes he really wanted to complain about the unfairness of fate, and he really wanted to ask loudly why an experienced veteran would die in such obscurity like a recruit.

He knew that this was only the first night, and this was just the most inconspicuous of countless injustices in this night. He looked at the corpse beside him, at the dried blood and the Holland Airborne Warrior Medal on his chest representing his achievements, and at the withered edelweiss.

When the curtain of war is slowly raised, who can guarantee their longevity? Are those who die first necessarily unlucky? I have to live, because when I die, no one will remember Beard, Baloo, and those soldiers who used to laugh and live. Boroll suddenly felt that he understood Ren, and understood the true meaning of the sentence of desperately wanting to live.

He stood up slowly, and suddenly murmured: "Damn, you still owe me a bet..." The scenery in front of him was blurred, did the night get darker? The eyelashes were still wet with mist, God knows.

"Kill! Kill a few more Brits, and I'll see you off!" Boroll laughed, and brought the young recruit named William Downer who replaced Baloo, carrying the MP-44 assault rifle, Without turning back, he walked to the position not far away.

The long night is still long, and no one is destined to fall asleep this night. The air is filled with the fishy smell of sea water and the breath of blood, refreshing.