While Lehmann was praying, a new round of British shelling began, and the cannons, which had been concentrated from all sides, squandered the ammunition in their hands as if the shells did not need money. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

Lyman had to shrink back into the foxhole once more, clutching his assault rifle and continuing to recuperate with his eyes closed.

After a night's rest, the British seemed to have finally recovered. They frantically counterattacked in the direction where the 1st Parachute Division was located, trying to open a breakthrough from here.

The battle began at dawn, and when Lyman poked his head out of his foxhole again, when the British soldiers were less than two hundred meters away from him.

Armed with his STG-44 assault rifle, he aimed at the British enemy in the distance, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

The British shells did not stop for the night of yesterday. Including super-large caliber shells from the sea, which simply annoyed the German paratroopers to the extreme.

Now that the German soldiers had been holding back all night, it was clear that they needed to vent, they needed to vent their anger without reservation.

The way for the soldiers to vent their anger was very simple, they just kept firing, firing, and directing their ammunition in the direction of the enemy.

Lyman saw through a gap at the edge of the foxhole and saw a dense stream of British soldiers. These British soldiers were obviously new recruits, and none of them would throw the main force into the first attack.

Therefore, although it is tragic, it is far from the time when both sides are hurting. Everyone waits, waiting for the opponent to be exhausted, and then suddenly launches an offensive to break the opponent's will.

"Suddenly! Dodo! "Lyman's assault rifle bolt fluttered back and forth, pushing a row of bullets out of the barrel and bringing no small amount of recoil.

The butt of the gun rested against Lyman's shoulder, and he felt the bullets rushing out of the muzzle. The British soldiers on the opposite side collapsed in response, one by one in pools of blood, groaning and dying.

This is a war, a brutal war. Both sides have the right to kill, and only the defeated have to pay for the sins that arise in the whole process.

When Lyman ran out of magazines, the British attack stalled. The other side was obviously not determined to penetrate the German defense line with a single impact, so it gave up very simply.

In the midst of a hail of bullets from German paratroopers, the British soldiers began to retreat. They left behind the hundreds of corpses of their own people lying on the ground, and retreated to their starting point in embarrassment with their weapons.

Before everyone could return to rest, the second wave of attacks began again. Wave after wave of British troops attacked the German positions, as if trying to test a weak point in the defenses.

At the cost of thousands of lives, the British attacks finally began to become concentrated and intensified.

Under the cover of two British tanks, thousands of British soldiers, armed with their weapons and shouting the slogan "Long live His Majesty the King", launched a fierce assault on the defensive positions near Lyman.

"Tank!" Pressing his steel helmet, a German soldier crouched down and shouted loudly to remind his companion.

The remaining German soldiers were still methodically using their own staggered defensive positions, draining the vital strength of the British army.

To Lyman's left, a hidden machine gun position suddenly roared, and the unique sound of the MG-42 machine gun made Lyman's whole person excited.

The constant noise of machine guns seemed to be the sound of tearing linen. This is the real Hitler's saw, the Führer's ripper.

Sure enough, the bullets formed a rain of bullets and flew into the crowd of British attacking troops from the side. More than a dozen people fell in an instant, and many more had to stop moving forward and lie down in search of the source of the bullets that had attacked them.

Next, Lyman's work increased tenfold. He had to cover his machine-gun position to change positions, and to eliminate as many charging British soldiers as possible.

Hundreds of British soldiers fell in front of his position, and before the British wounded, who were still wailing and screaming, died, a new round of British shelling was covered.

It was as if he was preparing to use artillery shells to wipe out all the German soldiers on the position. The explosion whipped up a breath of blood and rolled all over Lyman's head.

Gunther held his weapon and still had his eyes closed, and Lyman could only huddle in the foxhole, waiting for a shell to end his life, or survive another shell.

Some people are unlucky and some are lucky, the cowardly on the battlefield may not be able to live, and the warrior may die in the next second.

It is an absolutely fair world, where God is responsible for deciding the life and death of everyone, and everything speaks with luck. Those who hide in foxholes and don't even dare to fire a gun may survive, and veterans who have killed the enemy bravely can have their heads shattered by bullets.

When everything is fair, and too fair, living is an unwarranted thing – anything that can be done is subject to death, random and unfounded.

Near the coastline, far from the front line, the atmosphere is relatively peaceful. Everywhere there was a mess left by the shelling of the British fleet last night, and there was still light smoke everywhere.

The buildings in the city of Margate were destroyed by artillery fire, and the native British residents who had not had time to retreat were salvaging their relatives and finances from the rubble.

Everything here smelled of melancholy, no one spoke, and no one refused the help of German soldiers. They took what they had eaten and what they had used, and they did not say thank you, but no one continued to hate these invaders who had come from afar.

These British civilians who survived the catastrophe are now in a dark corner of their hearts, unclear to themselves, questioning themselves an unanswerable question: who is the real enemy of the bombardment of their own homeland and the invaders who attract hatred.

Many people handed over their grenades, and the Germans hung some prepared signs in front of the doors of those who handed over their weapons, and the streets became much more harmonious.

Dover was even more miserable than Margate, as it was also a port city and the focus of British attacks.

Last night, at least 50 or more British bombers, breaking through the interception net of German night fighters, rushed to Dover, dropping all the bombs they carried.

The bombs destroyed most of Dover, which was largely deserted, but still withstood the devastating attack.

The destruction brought by the British Air Force was not over, and the shelling of the British Navy came as expected. The damage caused by large-caliber naval guns is not comparable to aerial bombs.

Dover is now riddled with bomb craters, and the entire seaside city, along with the original docks, has been reduced to complete ruins.

It's definitely going to be a huge project to rebuild this place. The Germans apparently had no intention of taking advantage of this either, and the fact that they had built a large floating dock next to it speaks for itself.

Of course, there are several floating docks on the beach that were destroyed by British shelling last night. The piers were sunk on the seashore, broken and damaged like arms reaching out into the sea. There are also some large craters on the beach full of seawater, which are also masterpieces left behind by cannonballs.

German engineers are trying to restore order on the beach, some are building improvised roads out of transported planks, and some are already building new floating docks.

In order to estimate the British, the Germans prepared dozens of assembled boxes of floating docks. These things have now been pooled and used to build the British coastline.

With these floating docks, the landing materials prepared by the German army are being unloaded onto British soil in a steady stream. Relying on these abundant supplies, the Germans had begun to steadily expand their occupation zone.

The German shipping troops, which had been preparing for the night, began to frantically transport supplies to Britain that had been stalled all night as soon as the sun reached the English Channel.

Tank after tank was brought to the British coastline, along with artillery and other heavy weaponry.

In the beginning, most of the artillery that accompanied the German soldiers landed with light support weapons such as mortars. Mortars with a maximum caliber of 80 mm were designed to be relied on most of the time after the landing in Britain.

Although this kind of artillery has a small caliber and insufficient power, at this stage the German army only has such weapons in their hands, so they can only make do with such weapons.

Wars are never delayed because the weapons in hand are not suitable, nor can they be suspended because the weapons are inferior to the opponents.

The Germans could not use aircraft to support their own front-line operations forever, and near London, the German fighters did not have enough time in the air, so to continue the attack on the British, more ground firepower was needed.

After all, no matter how timely the support of the air force is, it cannot completely replace the support of the attacking forces with ground artillery fire.

Even in the pre-Li era, a superpower as strong as the United States did not completely replace ground support firepower, let alone Germany in 1940.

Treading on the still cold water, the German engineers were busy unloading a 150 mm gun onto the beach.

The waves surged up and crashed against the cold steel wheels of artillery. The smoky chalk cliffs in the distance make for a great backdrop.

There are also huge craters left by the British naval shelling, as well as sections of British fortifications that the Germans have not had time to destroy.

A canvas-covered truck was unloaded from the improvised landing ship, and the soldiers around looked at their baby with a smile on their faces, and a smile that couldn't be explained.