We rewind the clock thirty minutes ago, and Randolph and his party were fortunate enough to find the ancient spring in the middle of the desert with little difficulty.

The morale of these crash survivors has always been very high, which may have something to do with the proportion of officers in the team, a total of eight survivors, except for three mid-level and high-ranking non-commissioned officers, the remaining five are all officer ranks.

In addition to the two Grey Swordsmen who died on the spot, the British pilot, Lieutenant Winter, also died of his injuries and stopped breathing, and the Germans buried the Royal Air Force lieutenant next to his plane and made a rudimentary cross for him out of the metal from the wreckage. Their survival was all due to Lieutenant Winter's superb flying skills, and the Germans decided to wait until they were rescued, and they would jointly ask their superiors for Lieutenant Winter.

As a result of the death of the British Air Force lieutenant, only the Germans remained in the surviving squad: SS Lieutenant Colonel Randolph, SS Major Jürgen, Army Captain Horn, SS Lieutenant Wenzel, Air Force Second Lieutenant Krieger, SS Sergeant Merkel, SS Sergeant Grammrock, and Sergeant Woodman. It can be seen that in addition to the differences in military branches, the ranks of these people are coincidentally arranged in a ladder.

Randolph has no talent for identifying roads at all, and the henchmen around the Führer seem to have this problem, and I don't know if they have been infected by the Führer.

So the task of leading the way with the guide in the team was given to Krieg and Captain Horn. Captain Horn, in particular, was trained in this area, having recently been in French Indochina, where he had led a commando through the wild jungle with only a map and a compass. If the environment in the rainforest is harsher than the desert, at least you can see the sun when you look up in the desert, and there are no annoying jungle mosquitoes.

Finding their way, they soon discovered a natural animal trail, a path that might have been trodden by wild camels and other desert animals, leading them all the way to Hamill Springs, one of the most important water sources in the ancient Arabian desert trade routes.

During the Ottoman Empire, the Turks built a post station next to this ancient spring, and stationed tax collectors to collect taxes from incoming caravans, and the empire stationed fifty cavalry here to protect the tranquility of this trade route.

At the time of the Arab uprising, it was still an important resting stop, and it was once surrounded by tents of all kinds, and merchants from all walks of life danced and danced all night long, with prostitutes and dancers in their arms.

There was no doubt that everything that happened here was corrupt and depraved in the eyes of the religious militias, so when the Ikhwan movement began, the religious militias banded up to loot the caravanserais, killing every man and woman they met, and finally burning down the ground buildings and tents around the springs.

As a result, this thriving trade route was gradually abandoned, and since that day few caravans have dared to set foot here, and legend has it that it was cursed by the innocent victims whose ghosts roamed around the spring all night long, and who would use witchcraft to kill all Arabs who dared to approach it.

Of course, Randolph had never heard of this legend at all, only that he had found an important source of water from which he could drink the sweet spring water.

Time and the desert have erased the traces of the atrocities of those years, and everything has been buried under a thick layer of sand. The Turkish inn, which was built next to the spring, was now only half exposed to the ground, and the rammed earth wall that protected the courtyard was in tatters. The main structure of the station was not damaged, and perhaps the militia feared that it would contaminate the precious water because it would be a violation of doctrine.

Once you arrive at your destination, the first thing you need to do is find the spring. The Germans did not make much effort, because the target was in the center of the compound, and in order to prevent the well from being buried in yellow sand, the Arabs built a flat-roofed hut with stones above the spring, and also installed wooden doors reinforced with iron bars.

It seems that no one has visited this place for a while, and half of the doors are buried in the sand, because the stone house has no windows, and when the wooden door is opened, there is a black hole inside, and you can vaguely see a well in the middle of the house, and some clay pots and buckets are piled up in the corner.

Corporal Woodman walked to the well with a flashlight, lifted the wooden plank that covered the well's mouth, and shone it into the well with a flashlight, and was delighted to see the light and shadow reflected on the surface of the water, where the water was as clear as a whole crystal.

With a fresh supply of fresh water and a place to stay, the survivors decided to spend the night and move on the next day.

Second Lieutenant Krieg had determined that this was the Hamill Spring on the map, more than fifty kilometers from the nearest village, and that it would take a whole day to walk in the desert.

Randolph knew that the Afrika Korps was advancing into this area, and he was originally flying to the front bases of the Afrika Korps to check the progress of the campaign, and he wanted to provide the Führer with a report on the front line, and Randolph was still very serious about this kind of thing.

The start of the flight from the port of Yanbu was smooth, but soon the desert showed the outsiders its terrifying side, Wellington was not flying at a high altitude at the time, because the pilot was flying this route for the first time, so he had to lower his altitude and compare it with the landmarks on the ground.

At that time, the plane was only about 600 meters high, and then it crashed head-on into a large sandstorm that is rare in this season. It all happened in a very short time, and at first nothing was unusual at all, a layer of dust rolled up on the horizon, which is normal in a desert area, and from where Randolph was, the sun was still shining and peaceful outside the window.

But then the wind increased instantly, and before the people on the plane could react, a yellow-colored wall appeared in front of the plane, which was a terrible natural disaster composed of fine sand and dust, and the speed of advance was so fast that Wellington could not dodge at all, but in the blink of an eye, the bomber was swept into a huge sandstorm.

It was dark outside the window, and the plane's engine began to emit an unsettling howl, and although there was an air filter, the layers of filters were no longer of much use in this environment. At this time, the engine speed must not be reduced, and Lieutenant Winter could only watch the temperature of the two engines rise rapidly, and he knew that Wellington would not last long in the sandstorm, so he decided to find a nearby open space to make a forced landing before the engine was completely scrapped. In the face of such a natural disaster, the pilot could only have one chance, and Lieutenant Winter finally succeeded, but paid with his own life for it.

After eating the emergency food they had brought with them, the team of air crash survivors began to divide the work, some of them exploring the surrounding area, and some of them staying in the post station to clear out the houses where they camped for the night.

Sergeant Merkel carried his Mauser sniper rifle on his back and prepared to squirt around to see if he could meet a desert camel or an antelope, which could not satisfy the appetite of the foodies with compressed biscuits and canned food alone.

On the way to Guquan, they encountered some desert animals, but they were in a hurry and didn't have the heart to hunt at all. Merkel is a native of Hesse, and since he was a child, he followed his father to hunt in the mountains, and his good marksmanship was honed at that time.

Merkel found herself lucky, and just after walking a short distance, she spotted the animal's tracks, and the hoof prints were supposed to be herbivores such as antelopes.

Following the footprints, he soon saw the figure of this animal, it was a lone Arabian oryx, judging by the length of its horns, it should have just reached adulthood, it is a social animal, I don't know why it broke away from the antelope herd and came to this place alone.

The Arabian oryx has few natural predators on the peninsula, and its greatest threat comes from humans, who like to hunt the animal with their hounds for its fur and slender antlers.

Ignorant of the danger it was approaching, this beautiful animal was keeping its head down and trying to nibble on a clump of sand willow, the most common vegetation around desert oases, and the Arabs even planted it to stop the spread of quicksand.

Merkel picked up her rifle, adjusted her sights, and gently pulled the bolt to load the bullet. The German hunter adjusted his breathing, and the crosshairs in the scope were firmly pressed against the antelope's head, he did not know the location of the animal's heart, so hitting the head was the best option at the moment.

Merkel exhaled slowly, and the fingers on the trigger began to be full of afterburner, but just as Merkel was about to pull the trigger, a figure suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye.

The SS sergeant major hurriedly released the trigger and quickly turned the muzzle of the gun to the new target. In the scope appeared a Bedouin warrior, dressed in a wide gray Arab robe, with a white turban wrapped around his head, a cowhide belt with a bullet pack around his waist, and a leather bullet belt on his chest, which was filled with golden rifle bullets, and he wore an ornately decorated Arabic scimitar at his waist, and a curved dagger diagonally stuck in the belt, Carrying a World War I Lee Enfield NO.1 rifle on his shoulder, he can be seen through the gaps in his robes with bare legs and a pair of leather sandals on his feet.

Then another warrior dressed in a similar costume spun out from behind the dunes, and Merkel was surprised to find that it was a black man, who had never seen a black man in an Arab robe. Then a third warrior appeared, and the dune was like a magic box, and a steady stream of Arab warriors came out from behind, and Merkel sensed that the situation was not good, and he quickly put away his rifle and began to retreat in the direction of Hamil Springs.

PS: Thank you for your support, a new January has begun, and the author will continue to work hard this month.

In addition, I would like to inform you that the author has something to do in the next two days, and the update may need to be suspended, and I owe you two more chapters, I hope you can understand.