While the city is in chaos, the defense line on the edge of the city is a different story.

"Oh my God, Daddy, these guys are crazy." Clayton dug out his gear from the rubble in the corner of the bunker, spitting at the dust on the heavy's leather vest.

Daddy's experience once again saved the lives of the entire platoon, and just as the crowd was about to rush to the barricade, Gerald decisively ordered everyone to leave the barricade and make way for the crowd.

"Get out of the way, get out of the way, let them pass, get out of their way." He was yelling like this, and his expression and tone had never been so stern.

The soldiers in the first platoon are well-trained, and the kind dad is supported and loved by everyone in the platoon, and listening to the words of the dad has become the unanimous consensus of the soldiers in the platoon. The soldiers of the infantry platoon immediately responded to the sergeant's order, and no one asked why, they quickly left the barricade with rolling and climbing, some of them hid in the buildings on both sides, and the rest stood by the side of the road against the wall.

The terrible crowd flooded over the barricades that had not yet been formed, the sandbag bunkers were knocked down, the brick-stacked firing points were trampled over, and the routs were now completely following their instincts, their senses numbed by the long run, and they only knew how to rush forward, and rush forward with the group. At least 2,000 or so routs trampled past the positions of a platoon, leaving only a mess all over the ground when the flow of people passed.

The soldiers in the platoon were stunned to witness the whole process of this natural disaster, and the terrifying destructive power of the crowd made them turn pale, and they were glad that they had a wise leader who had been able to survive the terrible chaos just now.

A few bloody corpses in the middle of the road were examples, a few loyal police officers who were overwhelmed by the crowd before they could even warn, and I don't know how many spiked soles had stepped on them. These people died worthless and undignified. But in the end, there were still people to bury them, and the murderer's side also paid a similar price, and the soldiers who tripped in the rout were not exempt, their comrades did not care what they stepped on, they only thought about saving their own lives.

A platoon of soldiers regrouped from their shelters to their positions, all staring blankly at the broken barricades, not knowing what to do with the endgame in front of them. Sergeant Gerald was the backbone of all, and this is when he once again demonstrated his unique leadership skills.

"Clean up here and see what else can be used. Particular attention was paid to weapons and ammunition, some of which were buried under bricks. Don't cry all with a sad face. We're at least alive, and a few people are going to carry those bodies to the side of the road. Gerald quickly issued a series of orders, and the British soldiers sprang into action and began to rummage through the rubble to inspect the undamaged materials.

The destructive power of the crowd was not trivial, the entire blockade wall had been trampled in half, and the only two machine guns in the platoon had been overturned along with the bunker, and were now crushed under a pile of sandbags and bricks, which was the first thing to be salvaged now.

"Thank you very much for your assistance, you should leave immediately now. Find a safe place to hide, this war may be over for you. Gerald walked up to the two dozen citizen volunteers, fumbled out of his pockets and pulled out two packs of cigarettes, which he distributed to the pale citizens.

These people were frightened by the scene just now. If it weren't for the swift sights of the nearby soldiers who dragged them to the side of the road, they might have become pitiful victims at the feet of the rout, just like those policemen.

"At times like this, you just have to get out of the way. Or run with them, there is no third solution. Gerald lit a cigarette on a citizen's lighter, and he patted the back of the man's hand in thanks.

"You said earlier that we should leave. But the Germans were coming. A citizen asked, confused.

"This war is over for us, and we can't hold it anymore." Gerald pointed to the barricade behind him with a cigarette.

"We may have been able to hold out for a while, but eventually the Germans will break through, and we may be able to make them shed a lot of blood, and these children could have been sacrificed more valuable. But now ......" the sergeant took a puff of his cigarette and let out a long sigh.

"It's over, those people just now will rush all the way to the city center, no one can block their way, these people are crazy. You have seen all this, our fortifications have been destroyed, and the Germans will not give us a chance to rebuild. These routs did not come here by chance, the Germans must have been driving them from behind, and if I guessed correctly, they would soon be coming. Gerald patted a citizen's arm and said solemnly, "Dover is finished, it's only a matter of time now, I'll leave here with my people." ”

"Where are you going?" A citizen asked.

"Go and join up with the rest of our troops, if they still exist." This is also a problem that Gerald is very worried about, the other two platoons must have suffered the same thing on the defensive line, I don't know how they responded, you must know that not every platoon commander will think like him.

"Will you surrender like the Germans?" Another citizen asked.

"The army has the rules of the army, and theoretically we will fight until we can no longer fight. I don't control the minds of my subordinates, they can have their own choices. Perhaps, if more people could live, I would choose to surrender. Gerald threw away the cigarette butt in his hand.

"Then, gentlemen, get out of here, find a safe place and stay with your own family, God bless you." The old sergeant nodded to a few of the townspeople, turned and walked towards his men.

These volunteers were just ordinary citizens, middle and lower classes of society, many of whom had nothing to lose except a job and a family, and as a result, they were organized by the community council and the city government, and the participants were given an extra military ration. They thought they were just doing some manual work, but they never thought of going to the battlefield to fight the Germans. Seeing that the army is all in this way, of course these people will not be stupid to stay where they are, they have collected a lot of useful items from the nearby empty gate building, so they carry their satchels full of bits and pieces.

While Sergeant Gerald's infantry platoon is still wrestling with an unknown fate, Lieutenant General Mason is also facing one of the most critical choices in his life. When the rout poured into the city, he even thought that his subordinates were joking with him. Standing on the ruins of the Dover Fortress, you can see the entire city of Dover. Mason was standing there and saw what looked like hell through his binoculars.

The crowd broke down the already impenetrable defences, and the defenders had no idea how to react to the swarming crowd of their compatriots, who either stepped forward to stop them or fled, and the streets were filled with soldiers running around, and the whole city was thrown into chaos.

Then, as written in the novel, the conflict occurred without incident. General Evans died stupidly in the streets, and the sound of gunfire began to ring out in a messy manner all over the city. There are always some people who are unwilling to stand still, whether it is self-defense or warning, and some of the defenders finally can't help but pull the trigger on their own people.

Some of the British soldiers were so nervous that they couldn't tell which was friendly and which was the enemy. The defenders began to shoot indiscriminately at everyone who came close to them, and the tawny British Army uniforms became the first target of the soldiers' shots, and soon the semi-fortified city was a hot pot of porridge.

British soldiers in the same uniform crouched behind the barricades and shot at each other, both sides were equally trained and knew all those tricks, and soon the battle was in full swing.

The defeated side has reached a dead end, their actions can already be called a rebellion, and now they will not end well even if they lay down their arms, these people have long been exhausted. The only thing that sustained them was a strong desire to survive, but now that the last door to survival seems to be closed, these people have fallen into despair.

Some of the soldiers tried to surrender to the defenders, but were met with merciless fire. The soldiers, with their hands raised in the air, were shot dead in the streets, and their former compatriots cheered behind the barricades.

Rumors that the defenders were ready to shoot all the deserters seemed confirmed, so the rout soldiers gritted their teeth and tightened their weapons, ready to fight to the end. Use your own hands to fight your way out. Outside the city were the Germans who were eyeing them, and inside the city were compatriots who were ready to hang themselves on the gallows, and the defeated army had no way out. I can only fight to the death for my life.

"Let's fight, let's go to the port, there is a ship there, you can take us away." A piece of news spread through the rout, leaving these desperate warriors empowered again.

Yes, I had vaguely heard that there were so many passenger ships docked in the port of Dover that they could take them all away, and if they captured them, they could go anywhere in the world. The Germans had landed, the British Empire was finished, and they had all personally experienced the battle with the Germans, the kind of terrible army that the British Army could not fight against, and Britain was bound to lose the war.

Run, since you have already started to run, then keep running, get out of this battlefield, leave this damn war, maybe America is a good choice, or go to Asia, just don't let them see that gray-green uniform again.

Suddenly, the rout had a clear goal, and they began to concentrate and advance towards the port. Some of the exhausted soldiers, foaming at the bloody mouth and rifles with bayonets in hand, staggered towards the barricades that stood in their way, like ghosts crawling out of hell.

Although the defenders of Dover were not much larger than the rout, they had an absolute advantage in weaponry, blocking the entire road with machine guns and ultralight tanks, striking any targets that appeared on the streets, and the tricks and traps that had been prepared to deal with the German army were now all used against their compatriots.

But the rout was not a fuel-efficient lamp, and they immediately used the captured weapons to return the color. The defenders, scattered over a large area of the city, were divided and surrounded by a rout, which had a local numerical advantage, and were eventually broken individually.

Both sides were red-eyed, merciless, and did not leave any prisoners at all. Eventually, both physically and mentally, the defenders were overwhelmed by these demonic compatriots, who abandoned their positions and equipment and fled through the streets and alleys.

Dover had become a living hell, the routs had lost their organization and discipline, and they began to smash through the businesses in the streets, into the bomb shelters where the inhabitants were hiding, they ransacked everything they wanted, and even inflicted unspeakable atrocities on the citizens who had taken refuge and some of the army's female auxiliaries.

Lieutenant General Mason sent his last platoon of command guards, by which time he had completely lost control of the troops. His army is scattered, his defenses have collapsed, and the people he was supposed to protect are being slaughtered and plundered, and there is nothing he can do about it.

Mason personally drafted a brief report to London about what was happening here, and in fact he still has no idea why things had turned out the way they were.

All the original plans and intentions have been frustrated, and at the same time he knows that he can no longer fulfill the orders of London, and he will be responsible for everything in front of him, and he must be a scapegoat who awaits him, he will lose his honor and future, all the dirty water will be poured on his head, and he will never be able to turn over in order to maintain the authority of the wartime cabinet and Churchill.

The Royal Navy hinted that the rescue ship would never come, and Mason understood this very well, perhaps the rescue ship did not exist in the first place. As for the incompetent commander, the future history must say that he must say so, Lieutenant General Mason's future is bleak.

The Germans are about to attack, they will definitely take advantage of this opportunity to attack, all this was planned by them, these genius conspirators. Mason really wanted to meet the guy who made the plan face-to-face and find a chance to punch him in the face.

Lieutenant General Mason sat down by the ruins of the fortress battery, he looked at the city burning everywhere below, he had done everything he could, and everything that was left to God Almighty. He had lost hope for his future, and he was ready to watch the Germans enter the city right here.

How about a shot in the mouth, or a shot in the temple...... No, no, no, such a death does not belong to a sailor, he should die on the battlefield, maybe the Germans can fulfill this wish of his.

Why didn't the Germans come yet, are they all deaf and blind? Don't see this chaotic scene in the city? Could it be that the incompetent staff officers were right? The Germans were already at the end of their crossbows and were powerless to attack. It would be ironic if that were the case, they didn't need to attack at all, Dover was dying on its own.

Now only the Germans can solve the mess in front of them, they definitely don't want a messy city, if they come faster, maybe they can save some civilians from the chaos......

Suddenly, as if in a flash of inspiration, a thought crossed Mason's mind, and the Vice Admiral slammed to his feet from the rubble. He stood still for a moment as he looked at the smoked city, then turned around and walked down the battery and towards the tent of the communications company.

At twelve o'clock on August 22, 1940, the British command of the fortress of Dover sent a clear telegram to the German landing group. Vice Admiral Mason, as the supreme commander of the theater of operations, announced his surrender to the Germans, and his only request was to ask the Germans to enter the city as soon as possible, suppress the riots that were taking place in the city, restore order in the city, and protect the peaceful citizens and the safety of the surrendered British troops. (To be continued......)