That night, John slept unsoundly. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info It wasn't all because they were going to Downing Street for dinner the next day, but because the German bombers visited London for the first time that night.

From the feedback from the London Air Defense Command afterwards, it is surmised that the German air raid last night was not a premeditated operation. However, more than 10 German planes, because they did not find the intended bombing target, dropped the remaining bombs in London on the way back, helping the British to test a handful of air defense emergency measures in their capital.

To be honest, the bombing did not cause much damage to London, most of the bombs fell into the Thames, only a small number of residential houses and shops were damaged, and the number of casualties was around 10.

The reason why John didn't sleep well was not because of the explosions, but because the reaction of the Londoners was so radical that the air raid sirens went off for almost half the night.

The bombing also reminded John that London was about to be unsafe. It seems that in history, it was because of this "accidental bombing" that led to the turn of the British air battle. First, the Royal Air Force retaliated with air raids on Berlin and Hamburg, and then Goering, who had lost face, threw down the almost crippled Royal Air Force base and radar station, and instead launched an indiscriminate bombardment of London. As a result, General Dowding's fighter unit was able to escape, gaining a chance to breathe and regain strength.

For Britain, maybe last night's "air raids" weren't entirely bad, but it had nothing to do with John. All he knew was that it was important for him to hurry up and finish the scheduled work and leave London.

It was true that there was a huge Star-Spangled Banner hanging on the roof of Thomas's house, but with the accuracy of the bombing in those years, it was common for the bomb to be a few miles wrong, and it didn't really make much difference whether it was hung or not.

After breakfast, John and Captain Wilson went out. Today, their original plan was to inspect London's air defense measures, but last night's toss helped him so that he could see the real situation after the actual combat test.

Passing through the west gate of St. Paul's Cathedral, John and his wife came across a wagon of the "Royal Engineer Bomb Disposal Detachment", with a line of graffiti written in white paint on the baffle of the carriage - "Suicide Squad".

"Last night a one-ton aerial bomb landed on the road to the south, but fortunately it didn't explode. These sappers were supposed to defuse the bomb fuse. Wilson explained to John as he slowed down and misturned.

John wanted Wilson to turn around and go to the scene to see the excitement. But soon, he dismissed the idea. Who knows how good these sappers are at defusing bombs, if they encounter a hand tide, it won't be cost-effective to hurt themselves.

By the time they arrived at the East London Command of the Air Defense Command, it was already a mess. Compared with the affluent and noble West End, the residents of the East End are mostly poor and immigrants from coolie backgrounds. The streets are narrow, the houses are dense, and the social security is extremely poor. Conan Doyle once described the Eastside as "a place of incomparable violence and depravity" and "an abyss and hell of many strange secrets and desires".

John: When they entered, a stocky, bald uncle was throwing a tantrum at a young ensign.

"I, Cook, have been doing business on Kingsland Street since the year His Majesty George V ascended the throne. You go and ask when our F. Cook pie and mash shop has closed its doors after all these years. I don't care who you want to ask, a bunch of customers are waiting to buy pies, and you will restore the gas supply to me right away......"

Before the major who received him squeezed through the crowd, John roughly figured out what was going on. Last night, two buildings on Kingsland Avenue were bombed. Fearing a fire caused by a leak in a gas pipeline, the air defense command ordered the gas supply to be shut down throughout the street, and a group of residents and restaurateurs were protesting.

"Good morning...... an old major with gray hair struggled to push through the crowd pestering him and came to John. Before he could say "sir," John grabbed him by the arm and stopped him from saluting.

A few residents had already noticed John, but they just didn't know the identity of the man in the strange uniform, so they didn't surround him. He didn't want to be entangled by these uncles and aunts in the Eastern District.

In his office on the second floor of the headquarters, John had a general overview of the deployment of anti-aircraft fire, observation posts, bomb shelters, firefighting, and medical rescue in the East End. Then, accompanied by this major, he went to see the field.

They followed the north bank of the Thames, starting at Tower Bridge, and heading east to the River Leigh; It then turns north again, bypassing parts of the districts of Taulhamletz and Hackney and further south to the Roman walls. Outside the city walls are a large area of small factories of toxic industry, such as tanneries, slaughterhouses, and metal smelters, and the wind blows from the west, just enough to slowly push the stench to the east.

John stood on the city walls overlooking the gray and red masonry complexes and large shacks of the East End, without saying a word. The major who accompanied him also shut up, the facts were there, and it was useless for him to talk about it. With just a dozen anti-aircraft fire points, several large air-raid shelters, and a professional rescue team of less than 600 people, it is simply self-deception to want to protect the eastern district.

"Let's go to Kingsland Street." John also knew that the Air Defense Command had done its best. The special situation in the Eastern Sector determined that this would be the place where the losses in the Battle of Britain would be the heaviest, and it would not be possible to reverse it by manpower. What he wanted to know more was how the locals reacted after the bombing.

By the time John and his party arrived at Kingsland Street, the rescue was almost over. A street-facing shop and a small two-story building were hit by bombs, turning them into two piles of red masonry and gray mud and dust. A group of firefighters and soldiers were resting on the side of the road, and some nearby residents brought them water and bread.

Once again, John saw the pie and mash shop owner named Cook. He was directing two men to distribute bowls of mashed potatoes to the rescuers.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cook." John stepped forward and struck up a conversation with him, "Is your shop still open today?" ”

"Of course." Cook pointed across the street and said proudly, "We at F-Cook are the Buckingham Palace in the pie and mash shop, and there's not a day in 30 years that hasn't been full." ”

John looked in the direction of his finger, and it was a small door, the glass of the window had shattered in the explosion last night, and there was a fist-sized bullet hole in the door. But what caught his eye more was the British flag hanging at the door of the restaurant, and a small, rough handmade wooden sign hanging on the door, on which the words "open for business" were written in bold pen.

At this moment, John had reason to believe that London's air defense network might be shattered, but the optimism and tenacity of the Londoners would be unbreakable. With this clarified, the following investigations are meaningless.

John invited Wilson and the major to Cook Boss's shop for an East End working-class meal — pies and mashed potatoes dipped in bright green parsley sauce and a bowl of gelatinous eel jelly. At the moment, Boss Cook, who was busy outside, did not know that in a few days the name of him and his small restaurant would appear on the desk of the President of the United States in the White House.