The 24-year-old Tim Turner is a typical German, serious, rigorous, confident, and brave, which is a very good character in the eyes of many people, but there are two sides to everything, too serious often lacks flexibility, too rigorous can easily become complacent, blind confidence may make wrong decisions, and blindly pursuing the glory of bravery is no different from a reckless man. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

Everyone has shortcomings, and the key is not the size and number of shortcomings, but whether they can correctly view their shortcomings and correct them. In the process of floating under the parachute to the ground, Tim Turner did not close his eyes and pray, but reflected on his mistakes - if he did not pursue the results too much, he would not ignore the threat from the rear, let alone maintain a steady flight attitude for several seconds in a row, such a simple truth was already known in the first tactical class of joining the Luftwaffe, after these four years of experience, he thought that he was mature and had all the qualities to become an ace pilot, but in fact, he was still far away. Colleagues often say that pilots in the cockpit of fighter jets are proud eagles, and once they jump out of the cabin with a parachute on their backs, their fate is completely in God's hands, which Turner originally disagreed. But when he saw four British cavalrymen galloping towards him, and there was not a single Allied soldier in sight within a kilometer radius, he suddenly felt more frustrated than ever.

With just a Luger pistol, can you fight these British cavalry?

Although there was little hope of escaping, Turner was not going to rest on his laurels, he kept taking deep breaths, and his mind was deducing what to do after landing - whether to get rid of the shackles of the parachute as quickly as possible and resist on the spot, or to be wrapped in the parachute to paralyze the opponent and wait for an opportunity to sneak attack?

Turner did not consider whether the British cavalry would have killed themselves because of the casualties of their comrades, which was obviously another mistake made by one-line thinking, and a very fatal mistake, but God favored the German pilot: the Irish scouts crawling in the sea buckthorn bushes made a decisive move, killing two British cavalrymen, forcing the remaining two to retreat in panic.

The danger was temporarily lifted, and Turner breathed a long sigh of relief, but when he landed, he stepped on a pile of loose sand, and there was a sudden heartache in his right ankle. The unlucky guy snorted, endured the pain and untied the parachute bag as fast as he could, pulled out the delicate and small Ruger 08 from the holster, and guarded the surroundings in a kneeling position.

After a while, a whistle came from the sea buckthorn bush. Turner caught a glimpse of a guy lying there waving at him, and hurriedly walked over to the cat. After prostrate down, he glanced at the other party's uniform and armband, and asked in broken Irish Gaelic language, "Irish Army?" ”

The scout looked ahead vigilantly as he replied quickly, "The 373rd Infantry Battalion of the Royal Irish Army, Private First Class Rohr Eduardo, is on a battlefield reconnaissance mission. ”

Although it was not the time to speak, Turner thanked him in a matter-of-fact manner, and was about to shake hands with the other party, but he was coldly pressed by the Irish scout's head to the ground and his mouth gnawed sand. Before he could react, a rapid scream struck through the air, followed by a boom of thunder, and the air was instantly filled with the pungent smell of gunsmoke.

"Retreat, retreat!"

The Irish scout tugged at Turner's sleeve and motioned for him to move back after him. But before they could leave the sea buckthorn bush, the shells fell one after another, not only that, but a cluster of sea buckthorn in front of them instantly rose a series of dust and debris, which was the scene of machine gun strafing!

Turner heard the Irish scout beside him muttering something indistinctly, and he didn't ask much, just followed the other little by little. The terrain here is open and flat, but it is not completely undulating, some sea buckthorn grows on a slightly higher hill than the ground, and some are rooted in low-lying positions, and the sea buckthorn they hid in before is more than a dozen centimeters higher than the surrounding ground, barely providing a little protection for the creeping people, but the damage of the shells is in a divergent form, and the machine shells can penetrate the loose mounds. In the case of being roughly demarcated by the enemy, it is likely that it will be bad luck to continue to stay here.

In the blink of an eye, the artillery fire from the British position became fierce and abnormal. The British used four or five field guns and at least two machine guns to avenge the two cavalrymen, and the fact that the Allied bombardment was not yet over, makes one wonder about their tactical thinking.

Not far behind the sea buckthorn bush was a naturally formed puddle, the size of a crater from a heavy shell, knee-deep rain at the bottom, and loose mud at the edges. Seeing the Irish Scout slip into the puddle without hesitation, Turner followed closely behind, his shoes and trouser legs immediately soaked with water, but this did not make him feel uncomfortable, but rather a sense of relief.

British artillery fire was still sweeping the area repeatedly, and looking for a gap between the explosions, Turner asked the Irish scout beside him, "Will the British send cavalry again?" ”

The answer is simple: "Who knows?" ”

"We've been hiding here?"

"At least wait until the shelling is over."

The Irish scout had just finished speaking, and there was a sudden silence around him. Fighter planes fought in the air, bombs exploded in the distance, and British anti-aircraft fire roared incessantly, and the sounds became clear again. Then, a whistling sound distinct from the passing of shells or bombs came, and a series of tremors were felt on the ground, followed by one violent explosion after another.

Turner looked at it: "Ha, it's our Junker bomber!" Those Brits must have been blown up! ”

The Irish scout did not answer, but leaned on the edge of the puddle, took the telescope from the telescope box on his chest, and silently observed the direction of the British position. The German dive bombers had flown away, and several plumes of smoke had appeared behind the British positions, and this time it was probably the British field artillery who did not know whether they were alive or dead, but it was impossible to judge their losses.

Turner rolled over and reclined on his back, trying to move his ankles: "Well, dear Mr. Eduardo, there's something I ought to tell you...... I sprained my right foot while skydiving, and I could barely walk. Do you understand? My foot hurts. ”

Turner's words are German mixed with Irish, the two languages belong to different languages, and the differences in pronunciation and grammar are still relatively large, but thanks to close military and economic cooperation, many Irish people know some German, and the German officers and soldiers stationed in Ireland are arranged to learn Irish to ensure that they can communicate with friendly forces on the battlefield at the most basic level.

The Irish scout, who must have understood, replied in half-intelligible German: "We are waiting here." ”

Turner took out the cigarette case from his pocket, shook out two cigarettes, and when he handed one of them to the Irish scout, he was given a hard look by the other party, suddenly remembered his situation, smiled awkwardly, put away the cigarette and cigarette case, took out a piece of chocolate wrapped in tin foil, broke it and divided it in half to the other party.

"You're out scouting alone?"

Seeing that there was no unusual movement on the side of the British position, the Irish scout also relaxed a little, he unceremoniously stuffed the chocolate into his mouth, and said as he chewed: "No, we are in a group of four, two of us will go back to report the situation, and one of them will go to pick up the pilot who has parachuted like you." ”

Turner nodded: "Our troops who have landed on the north shore of the Cohen Peninsula should be attacking soon!" ”

"I heard that the British army has invested hundreds of thousands of troops here, and that our troops landing in Abersoch almost lost their last defensive positions last night, and although our landing force is increasing, the British must have increased their troops faster than us, and I always feel that the situation here is not good." The Irish scout turned to look at the slightly embarrassed but unfazed German pilot beside him, "If nothing else, you'll be sent back to the rear soon, so be careful the next time you come back." ”

The two of them in the puddle said one by one, and more than an hour passed unconsciously. During this period, coalition fighters came in wave after wave, with a large number of bombers and an even greater number of fighters covering the bombers. On the whole, the British fighters had a slight advantage in battle loss rates, but such a war of attrition was not something they would like to see. The further back on, the weaker the British fighters took to the air, which also meant that the coalition aviation forces were gradually gaining air supremacy in the northern part of the Coen Peninsula.

Hearing the long-lost roar of motorcycles, Irish scout Eduardo's unfazed face finally showed a hint of joy. He looked back and blew his whistle at the sight of a familiar figure, and then he saw a sturdy young man with windproof glasses slipping over like a wild cat, and a sideways slide into the puddle. When the guy saw a German pilot in a puddle, he jokingly asked his partner:

"Hey, this is your guest?"

"Yes, Luftaf Second Lieutenant Tim Turner, uh...... I just forgot to ask, are you a fighter pilot or a bomber pilot? ”

"Fighter pilot." Turner replied, then shook hands with the visitor kindly, "It's an honor to be Mr. Eduardo's guest." ”

The later scout introduced himself in standard German: "I am Private Hank Purcell, 373rd Infantry Battalion, Royal Ireland Army. My aunt was married to a Hanoverian merchant, and I went to live at her house for some days almost every summer, and I was very familiar with the Germans there, and I was most impressed by the fact that they always did things in a straightforward manner, and there was no room for negligence. ”

Turner laughed: "What a coincidence, I am a native of Hanover, and I am also a person who is one-eyed and cannot tolerate negligence, but today I committed a fatal negligence, and I was beaten down by the British." ”

Of course, this was not the place to talk, and the private said to his partner: "When I went to pick up the parachutist pilot just now, I met Second Lieutenant Seist, and he said that the troops would attack at 11 o'clock sharp, and the fleet would launch an artillery bombardment of the British line at 10:40, and the battalion headquarters had sent 'sentinels' equipped with radios to take over the forward reconnaissance, and our reconnaissance mission could be ended early." ”

The handsome face of the Irish First Class was stained with a lot of mud, and he looked at the German pilot: "Mr. Ensign, you don't mind squeezing a motorcycle with us, do you?" ”

"Of course not." Turner said with a smile, "As long as you can get back to the rear as soon as possible, smoke a cigarette and have a hot cup of coffee, it doesn't matter how crowded the car is." ”

It was not difficult to make a decision at this time, and the first class soldier said quickly: "Then let's hurry away, while this place has not yet been burned into a desert by artillery fire." ”

(End of chapter)