Luftwaffe Air Station 604 was located six kilometers northwest of the town of Vaïus, and the radio call sign assigned to it by the command happened to be "Reinhardt". Pilots of the Luftwaffe's Second Air Force would jokingly refer to it as "Rose Paradise" or "Pink Bunny" when called internally.

"The white wolf called "Reinhardt", the view here is clear, we will land in five minutes. Captain Ept glanced at the instrument panel, and all gauge indicators were within the normal range.

"White wolf", the runway has been cleared, welcome to "Rose Paradise". The headset came a reply from the airport air traffic control, and the signal was clear and loud.

"The white wolf" understands, I'll see you later, it's over." The captain loosened the letter button and turned his face to look out the side window.

The two BF109s escorting the escort on the left side can be seen shaking their wings and are accelerating to overtake this F200 transport aircraft.

"Final check, it's time to get ready to land." Second Lieutenant Hohenstein, the co-pilot, turned his head to Sergeant Ruhr, who was sitting in the aeronautical engineer's seat.

"Everything works." Ruhr gave the co-pilot a thumbs up while expertly adjusting the dazzling valves and circuit switches on the control panel.

The simple steel runway of the air station is 850 meters long, and a new cement runway is now being built on the right side of the main runway.

This is only the first stage of the expansion of this military air station, which will eventually become a large integrated military base, and in the future, German naval long-range reconnaissance aircraft taking off and landing here can bring the entire North Sea and most of the Baltic Sea into the combat radius.

The six BF109 fighters belonging to the JG53 formed a three-plane formation, first made a gorgeous low-altitude clearance, then climbed back to an altitude of 800 meters, and began to circle around the edge of the airfield.

The F200 transport plane, painted white, lowered its massive flaps and slowly descended in the center of the runway. The landing gear canopy under the engine pod unfolded to both sides, and the hydraulic barrel drove the landing gear out of the cabin and locked, and after a dozen seconds, the heavy rubber tires were crushed against the brown painted steel runway.

With a cacophony of grinding and a puff of cyan smoke rising from the brake pads and tires, the pilot struggled to steer the large eighteen-ton plane and glide precisely along the runway centerline.

There was already a crowd of people waiting on the runway, both the army and the air force, all dressed in crisp uniforms, wearing parade ornaments and ceremonial swords. A large group of Air Force ground crews in blue-gray coveralls stood by the taxiway with their heads held high, and although they could not be compared with the regular honor guards, the overall queue was quite neat.

Four black Mercedes Benzes with shiny shells pulled up on the side of the runway, and a dozen people stood in front of the convoy, seemingly separated from the uniformed soldiers, consciously maintaining a delicate distance.

These people were generally dressed in the same category, dark pants and black leather shoes, black leather trench coats and top hats, some of them had obvious bulges at the waist of their coats, apparently carrying some kind of weapon, and their eyes were sharp and serious, which made people involuntarily daunted.

Once upon a time, this costume was the most feared nightmare for all the inhabitants of the occupied territories, whether it was the secret police or the General Security Service, representing the darkest side of the Nazis' brutality.

"Here they are, sir." A Gestapo said from behind his boss.

"Well, pretty punctual." The leader of the group looked down at the watch on his wrist, and the black hands pointed to eleven forty-five against the background of the mother-of-pearl surface.

The man's name was William. Colwin. Wolfstein, the third-class superintendent of the German secret state police, is the equivalent of a major in the army.

The Gestapo was different from the SS Security Department, they were originally the Prussian political police in Weimar, and they were regular disciplined forces under the Prussian Ministry of the Interior.

After the Gestapo was controlled by the Nazis, it became one of the best and most powerful weapons used by the Nazis to maintain their "National Socialist" ideology and dictatorship. Although the Gestapo was under the command of the General Security Service, the powers of these secret polices were almost unlimited compared to SS agents in the Ministry of Security. For ordinary Germans, these people are "law" in themselves.

The Gestapo inherited the Prussian style of bureaucracy, and carried out its tasks with a hard-touch approach, which was what Hitler and the Nazi top brass most admired, and had to be cruel to the enemies of the state.

Major Wolfstein was such a standard Gestapo that he was a cunning and cruel wolf on his mission, making even his men and allies shudder, and sometimes bringing more psychological pressure to those around him than even those who were ignorant of everything.

But in daily life, he is also a good husband and father who takes care of his family very much, and is a well-known daughter. In the office he was a reliable boss and subordinate, and had good relations with his colleagues, and whether or not he had been on a mission with him, he recognized Major Worfstein as a gentleman of good culture, gentleness and humility, and a Prussian man who still retained a great deal of traditional virtues.

The plane slowly taxied in front of the welcome queue, the crew retracted the throttle of the engine, and a ground crew member pressed the soft hat in one hand and the folding gangway in the other, and ran quickly to the cabin door.

The crew opened the cabin door from the inside, and the ground crew skillfully fixed the gangway to the slot, and then a German lieutenant general wearing a field uniform appeared in front of the cabin door.

The lieutenant general glanced at the welcoming team on the runway, then walked briskly down the gangway, followed by a young army major with a tawny leather briefcase.

"Good afternoon, General Weierle, I am the commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph, and on behalf of all the officers and men of the base, please allow me to extend my most sincere welcome to you." The commander of the base was an Air Force lieutenant colonel in his fifties, with two beautiful mustaches, a belt tightly tied to his somewhat fat belly, and a 1913 edition of the Iron Cross of the First Class hanging under his chest pocket.

"Fortunately, Lt. Col. Ralph." Weierle returned a military salute to the well-spoken lieutenant colonel.

"Welcome, Your Excellency, I am the Deputy Commander..." The rest of the officers of the Army and Air Force stepped forward in turn and saluted the Führer's chief personal staff.

"Wolfstein, I've been waiting for you for a long time, General Werle." When it was the Gestapo's turn, the secret police took off their top hats, bumped their heels and nodded in acknowledgement, then extended their right hand to the lieutenant general.

"Fortunately, I've heard of you in Berlin, Major." Werler shook Wolfstein's hand and shook it.

"Lieutenant Colonel, how long does it take for an airplane to refuel?" Weirle turned his face to ask Ralph.

"With the necessary maintenance, it can be completed in an hour." Air Force Lieutenant Colonel replied.

"General, the chef at the base has prepared a sumptuous lunch for you." The deputy commander added attentively on the side.

"Then we'll have an hour to tell me what you know now, and we can talk while we eat, Major." Wehrle turned back to Wolfstein and smiled.

PS: Thank you for your understanding and support.