Abu. Corporal Mustafa sat on a mottled yellow-brown sandstone brick with his back against a thick battlement, and in front of him lay an iron basin with a small bonfire lit inside.

"Allah willing, I heard that Major Albi is going to be transferred, is it true?" Private Hashim carried an aluminum lunch box on a thick twig and roasted it on the fire, and soon the smell of grease wafted through the air.

"That cursed donkey should have gotten out a long time ago, I haven't been given a vacation for two months, and that greedy donkey runs every day to the brothels in Oran, and comes back drunk until midnight, beating and scolding our soldiers at every turn, and if I were the base commander, I would have hanged this bastard on a lamppost in the harbor." Corporal Mustafa fumbled in the glove bag on his belt and pulled out a long clay pipe, which he carefully pinched out of the bag and filled it with.

"Corporal, what do you think will happen when you hear that the Germans are coming?" Private Hassan picked out a small, red-hot twig from the brazier and respectfully lit a cigarette for Mustafa.

"It's all rumors, the Germans and we are separated by the sea. What have you seen the Germans? When I was younger, I saw people in big leather boots and black peaked helmets, walking like ducks and kicking so high. Allah willing, we don't have to go to war with them, I heard from Mr. Bridge in the morning that France and Germany are negotiating and the war is over. The Algerians danced and triumphantly showed off their broad vision and deep experience to the young rookies under their command, and Master Mustafa had gone out to wander.

The port of Mirskbiel is two kilometers northwest of Port Oran, and the two ports are actually close together, separated only by a small mountain beam. The port of Mirskbir is surrounded by this mountain range, the bay is surrounded by mountains on three sides, and the altitude is more than 300 meters, which is simply a natural defense line, because the port of Oran is a civilian port. Merchant ships from various countries are busy, the waterways are crowded, and the personnel are complicated, and it is very inconvenient for naval ships to dock in Oran, so France built a seaport in Mearsbir Bay to berth naval ships alone.

This is a naval anchorage, not a regular naval base, and there are no docks, ship canals, ship repair yards, ordnance processing, and other necessary base facilities. Only an old-fashioned coastal fort stands abruptly on the tip of the promontory at one end of the harbor.

A huge breakwater extends from the side of the fortress, keeping the waves of the Mediterranean Sea out of the harbor, which is unwavering and mirror-like.

The fort is in the standard French style, with a semi-underground bunker at the tip of the cape and a single-pointed bastion with a lighthouse on it. Behind the bunker is the main fortress, consisting of a North African standard two-tiered quadrangular rampart and an obtuse bastion, with deep moats and defensive walls dug along the shore side. Mustafa: They are now sitting on the rampart of the first floor of the huge main fortress.

"It is said that the two big guys will be back to France next week, when all the warships are gone. We'll be a lot easier. Hashim pulled a salt shaker out of his glove bag and handed it to Hassan, who expertly opened the salt shaker, twisted a pinch of salt and sprinkled it into the lunch box.

"Next Monday, the boatswain on the Provence will ask me to find a way to get some good goods for him. Now that France is short of everything, I got him this number, and when he goes back, he will be able to double it. Mustafa shook his hands with four fingers, then smacked his pipe on his boot. Pick up a stick of wood and poke off the carbon in the smoke pot, blow it hard, and carefully wrap it in a cloth bag. Put it back in the glove bag.

"You've made a lot of money this time, corporal." Hassan asked with a smile.

"What do you earn, I still owe a lot of debts to pay." Mustafa pouted at his men.

"Okay, it's hot, it's ready to eat." Hashem shouted happily, and he took a large aluminum spoon from his bosom and wiped it on the placket of his shirt.

"Oh, give me a big one, Hassan, and bring out the rest of the bread." Mustafa hurriedly picked up the iron plate that had been placed on the ground and leaned over. Just as the three Algerian soldiers were happily eating and eating, they didn't know that twenty kilometers away, a group of Grim Reapers were rapidly attacking them against the sea.

What do you say about the Fairray swordfish...... Semi-modern aircraft. It has all the technical features of a modern model, such as a metal fuselage and wings, a high-horsepower engine, a full set of instruments, an on-board radio, an on-board compass, and an air oxygen supply system, while it retains an open cabin, double main wings and fixed landing gear, and a speed that is so slow that you can't say anything, this is an old aircraft built with advanced technology. Incredibly, this aircraft is still the latest model, having just been in the Royal Navy for two years.

As we all know, the British Royal Navy is almost out of the sky when it opens its brains, but in fact, the Royal Navy is invincible once it is conservative and rigid. The Swordfish style is the culmination of the Royal Navy's conservative thinking.

Conservatives in the navy believe that as a naval aircraft, it must be able to carry torpedoes and bombs, and because it needs to take off on a very short aircraft carrier runway, the aircraft must have great lift.

At the same time, the Navy's aircraft must have a navigator and observer, because the pilot's eyes have to take care of the instrument panel most of the time, so there is no guarantee of reconnaissance and search, and the target on the sea surface from the air is often only a small dot, and once missed, it will be a thousand miles away. In addition, there is no reference for sea flight, and it is necessary to always remember the course speed and time of the aircraft, and calculate the exact route and position of the aircraft in order to ensure the safe arrival of the target area and return.

In addition, if you want to report the results of reconnaissance and search at sea to the carrier ship or base in time, the aircraft must be equipped with a long-range radio, which is not a wireless walkie-talkie, but can only send Morse code, and the pilot is already in a hurry, where can he free up his hands to send the report, then he needs to bring a radio operator, because the operator is idle most of the time during the whole flight, in line with the tradition of the Navy does not raise idlers, and then the tail machine gunner.

As a result, three people were crammed into this ugly biplane torpedo plane, and the cockpit division was in the shape of a ladder. The pilot sat high up in the nose of the plane, and the other two sat in the rounded cabin of the fuselage one step lower, and the operator and observer sat back to back, separated only by a wooden backrest.

The rear seat cabin is completely open, with the front full support of the driver's seat back plate to block the wind, and the observer does not have a dedicated flight seat, but sits on a horizontal wooden board in the cabin, so that he can stand up in the cockpit at any time, lean out and look downward. During reconnaissance and search missions, observers were even standing for most of the entire voyage.

Observers can stand in the open-top cabin and wave their arms. The use of voice calls and Royal Navy gestures to direct pilots to change direction or machine gunners to take aim is unique among World War II torpedo planes, making the Swordfish crew look more like a group of rowing sailors.

Royal Navy Torpedo Bomber 818th Squadron 1st Squadron Squadron 2nd Aircraft Observer, Royal Navy Sergeant Raymond Brown. Hansen was now standing in his cockpit seat, banging the panels of the side compartments.

"Okay, the watch hands are starting to jump, there must be something blocked." Hansen breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the speedometer and altimeter, which had finally begun to function normally under the yellow light of the small light in the cabin.

"Don't be nervous. Sergeant, there's no need to worry at all, we just need to follow the formation. The pilot, Sergeant Carter, said with a smile on the intercom.

"Keep an eye on the long plane, we're on the high side." Hansen angrily knocked on the wall of the pilot's compartment. He turned his head to look behind him. In the bright moonlight, the Mediterranean sea below is covered with a silver veil, and the milky white paint of the Swordfish torpedo machine is clearly visible in this bright moonlight, and even the number on the fuselage is clearly recognizable.

"The moonlight is too bright. The French could easily see us. Hansen said in the intercom.

"Don't worry, it's hard to tell from below, it's good for us to have moonshine like this. We can clearly find the location of the target. The pilot replied loudly.

"Attention, I've seen the harbor, the target is the one on the right, I can't believe it, the French don't have a light control." The pilot's surprise cry came from the headset, and Hansen hurriedly jumped to the side of the cabin and leaned forward to look ahead.

Under the moonlight, the white coastline and gray mountains are clearly discerned. The observer saw at a glance the huge city with its twinkling lights, which was supposed to be the prosperous port of Oran.

"Following the long plane, the French were defenseless, and I saw the port of Mirskbil, and they actually lit the lights."

"They had absolutely no idea we were coming, see? Their lighthouse is navigating for us. There are three thousand meters left, ready for flares. The pilot roared loudly, venting his excitement.

The enemy was defenseless, and if the French approached within a kilometer did not notice, they would never have another chance. The battle will be as easy as target shooting.

Hansen bent down, loosened the strapping belt from the cabin wall, lifted the five-kilogram hand-thrown bomb, and carefully checked the safety latch by the light of the lamp, before picking up the bomb and moving it to the side of the cabin.

Forty-eight Swordfish torpedo planes were pressed against the surface of the sea and advanced towards the target at an ultra-low altitude of 20 meters. Every pilot stared nervously at the brightly lit port, afraid that the next second a sky of tracer bullets would come at him.

The twelve Swordfish in the first row began to change formation according to the plan, and the twelve planes formed four three-plane formations, and then began to slowly climb in altitude and sprint towards the breakwater. 500 meters, 400 meters, 300 meters, 100 meters...... The breakwater was clearly visible, and the pilots were also able to see the huge hulls and towering chimneys of the French battleships docked behind the breakwater.

"Drop the bomb, drop the bomb!"

The Swordfish torpedo planes had reached an altitude of 300 meters, and the formation slammed the nose of the plane and continued to climb up almost steeply, while the observers of the various crews pulled out the safety of the flare and threw the bomb out of the cabin at the moment when the plane skimmed over the breakwater.

Twenty meters after the bomb fell, it exploded with a muffled sound. Twelve flares floated slowly under a silk parachute, and the core of the flares was like twelve tiny suns, illuminating the berth of the port of Mearsbir as if it were day.

At this time, the French finally reacted, and the shrill sirens immediately echoed over the port area. But it was already too late. The twelve torpedo planes of the second echelon burst into the harbor from the left side of the breakwater, and then swooped directly into the mountains behind the harbor, making a nearly 100-degree turn at a gentle mountain pass, and launched a dive towards the breakwater from the east of the harbor.

Twelve torpedo machines were lined up in two rows and lowered to a height of ten meters. Shooting torpedoes at the French battleship anchored next to the breakwater, and then almost against the battleship's mast, he did not hesitate to climb and retreat to the open sea.

This was followed by the third wave, which followed the same course as the second, and the twelve torpedoes followed almost the track of the front mines. The last wave of torpedo planes burst through the gap in the breakwater and fired a volley of torpedoes at the French destroyer flotilla parked in the depths of the harbor.

The last wave of attacks was launched by the formation that dropped flares, and they circled back from the pass. The last torpedoes were dropped on the flaming French battleship, and then sailed out to sea.

The whole battle was like flowing clouds and water, and it was dripping with joy. From the explosion of the first flare, until the evacuation of the last swordfish torpedo machine, there were only five short minutes. In these five minutes, the British Royal Navy's swordfish torpedo fleet completed the attack with precision and perfection, and the French Navy was unable to fire a single shot from beginning to end.

"Allah is above. It's the planes of the Germans! The Germans are coming to bomb! Mustafa, with his Lebel rifle, stood dumbfounded on the battlements of the fortress wall, staring dumbfounded at the huge battleship that was constantly spewing flames in the harbor. At this moment, a bright white light flashed. Then a huge fireball rose from the side of the breakwater, and with a piercing roar, Mustafa was blown down by a violent storm.

"A group of torpedo planes sent a report that the attack was successful. The results were enormous, and the French fleet was all in the harbor, sinking at least two battleships and two destroyers. Three cruisers and four destroyers were damaged, the French did not return fire, ours were unharmed. The communications officer climbed onto the bridge with a telegram in his hand, and with a happy face he handed it to Somerville, who was sitting in the commander's chair with his eyes closed.

"Really? Very good. Somerville nodded, and took the telegram calmly. Captain Scott noticed that the lieutenant general's knees were shaking violently.

"Now we are one step away from success, and we will only be able to complete our mission when all the planes have returned to land." Somerville shrugged his shoulders and stood up.

"I have seen the performance of all the people, everyone has done their duty, perfectly shouldered their respective duties, the professionalism and discipline shown by the officers and men of the whole fleet impressed me, this is the first time in the history of mankind to use aircraft carriers and carrier-based aircraft to launch a strike on the enemy's fleet in the harbor, this battle will be recorded in the history of imperial wars, and when I return to Britain, I will ask the Prime Minister for all meritorious personnel." Somerville put down the telegram and said with a smile at Captain Scott.

"Your Excellency Commander, just now the destroyer Antelope sent a report that the shadow of the ship has been spotted in the northwest of the fleet, and it is approaching us." A staff officer reported aloud with a telephone receiver on board.

"What? The types of ships were immediately identified, and the escort detachments were ready for battle. Somerville ran off the bridge, leaning on the high-powered binoculars on the lookout and looking northwest.

At this time, Britain had not yet developed a sea search radar, and the exploration of surface ships still relied on visual and reconnaissance aircraft, otherwise the Glory would not have been miserably targeted.

"Let the destroyer go out to reconnoiter and confirm the identity of the other party."

"Are we going to immediately turn to avoidance?" Scott asked.

"Don't panic, there are no fleets of other countries nearby, the Germans can't cross Gibraltar, the French have been paralyzed in the harbor, and the Italians won't go so far, maybe it's the Gibraltar detachment or Cunningham's Mediterranean fleet." Somerville stood calmly on the lookout, leaning on his binoculars and looking at the sea and the sky, and in the bright moonlight, there was indeed a little shadow of the ship looming on the horizon.

As time passed, the shadow of the ship grew larger and larger, and gradually the outline could be discerned. The British had already discovered that the target was not a ship, and several slightly smaller shadows were spotted on either side of the target, which was apparently a fleet.

"If there is no formed fleet in this part of the Mediterranean, it must be Cunningham's people. Haven't been contacted by radio yet? Have the destroyer fire a light identification signal at the opposing side. The destroyers on the periphery began to accelerate towards their targets, and the signal lights on the side of the bridge flashed to send identification signals to the other side.

The other party apparently also discovered the British fleet, and it adjusted its course, but the other party did not reply to the light inquiry, nor did it receive the radio call sign, so it silently slanted towards the course of the British fleet, and Somerville realized that something was wrong.

The signalman, who had been staring at the destroyer's light, exclaimed loudly. "God, the Antelope signaled, it's a battleship! It's the Richelieu! ”

As Somerville turned her head in panic, the distant shadow of the ship flashed brightly, and the French battleship fired its first salvo since she entered service. (To be continued, please search, the novel is better and updated faster!)