Chapter 197: Chapter 275 Desperation
The 180 fighter planes urgently launched by the Royal Air Force from the mainland had not reached Dunkirk when they encountered the German fighter planes intercepting them in the airspace above the sea.
A group of inexperienced British pilots were easily outperformed by the superior performance and higher-quality pilots of the German Air Force. Of the 180 fighter planes, 128 were shot down, with only around 40 managing to escape back to the mainland (some crashed on the return journey).
On the German side, they suffered only 68 losses, and 32 pilots who fell into the sea were rescued by dispatched seaplanes. The search and rescue team also captured 43 British pilots.
In other words, the Germans only paid the price of 68 planes and 36 pilots, a significant victory for them.
As the day gradually turned dark, the German ground attack aircrafts that had ravaged the airspace over Dunkirk for the entire day also withdrew from the battlefield.
The last batch of arriving bombers dropped leaflets before departing.
The content of the leaflets was a personal letter (a copy) from Crown Prince Wilhelm.
"To the honorable soldiers of the Great British Empire and France,
I am Crown Prince Yannick Wilhelm von Hohenzollern of the German Empire.
Allow me to express my sincere admiration for the brave soldiers who fought valiantly in this battle. Your actions have fully demonstrated your glory. However, your courageous spirit has been exploited by certain despicable politicians, throwing you into this war that should never have happened, trapping you in this desperate situation.
Now, your retreat has been completely cut off, and the powerful armored forces of Germany have surrounded you. Your war has actually ended, and you have already done your best for your homeland. Continuing the fight will only devolve into a disgusting and meaningless slaughter.
To stop this unnecessary massacre, I earnestly implore you all to lay down your weapons. You will undoubtedly receive the treatment you deserve, and I personally guarantee that you will not face any unfair treatment. After the war, you will be able to return to your families and loved ones in peace.
As for Viscount Gort, Commander Harold Alexander, and General Maxime, what choices do you have? 'In the name of the homeland', send young soldiers to their deaths and then hypocritically escape, leaving behind excuses for 'the greater good of the future'? If there is still a trace of military honor and patriotism in your hearts, you should assess the situation and leave the chance to live for the young children.
Your incompetence has brought shame to their honor; don't let your selfishness cost them their lives.
You have one night to consider. If you do not surrender before 6 a.m. tomorrow, our forces will cover you with firepower ten or a hundred times greater than today. Even if you surrender after that, I cannot guarantee anything."
Viscount Gort stared blankly at the leaflet. The words "Your incompetence has brought shame to their honor" felt like a knife cutting through his heart. If he hadn't used communication issues as an excuse to make his own decision and not headed south for a breakout but instead retreated north to Dunkirk, perhaps he wouldn't have ended up in such a dire situation.
Unfortunately, there is no regret medicine in the world. Even if he sighs, beats his chest, or stamps his feet, it won't change the current desperate situation.
Sighing once again, he called his adjutant and asked, "Has there been any response from Prime Minister?"
The adjutant, equally aware of the current situation, replied with a voice tinged with despair, "The Prime Minister asks us to persist, there will be a solution." What other solution could there be? Can they make so many expeditionary troops return?
Viscount Gort couldn't help but smile bitterly. "What about our food and ammunition situation?"
The adjutant's expression darkened further. "Ammunition and supplies are running out. Although we have started rationing food and ammunition for the soldiers, we can only hold out for another two days at most. After two days, we will truly run out of ammunition and provisions." During their hasty retreat, many ammunition supplies were abandoned on the escape route.
Presumably, even with Prime Minister Churchill's extraordinary abilities, he couldn't transport so many soldiers back within two days. "Notify everyone, there will be a meeting above the regiment level at 9 p.m. tonight." After saying this, Viscount Gort waved his hand wearily, indicating the adjutant to leave him alone for a while.
Sergeant Ashton sat in the trench with his rifle, looking dejectedly at his bandaged arm. His dirty face was filled with exhaustion.
A small piece of skin and flesh was grazed off his arm by shrapnel, not a serious injury, so he couldn't be prioritized for evacuation as a wounded soldier.
However, he had no complaints. Although there was no exact information, he highly doubted whether those transport ships could safely return to the homeland. After all, the German fighter planes, rampant in the sky, were not blind; they wouldn't let them evacuate safely, would they? The country that proudly claimed to have the world's number one navy, England, now couldn't even protect their withdrawal. What an immense irony!
He heard that the losses in the navy since the beginning of the war were continuous. Now, they had lost almost half of their main battleships! As an honorable soldier of the Great British Empire, although he couldn't say how many main battleships Britain had, he was well aware that losing more than half was quite severe!
What he couldn't understand was how the Germans, who had been knocked down just twenty years ago, had risen again in such a short time and become even more powerful than before. Even with the joint forces of Europe's number one power and the world's number one navy, they couldn't match it!
While Ashton was lost in these thoughts, Lieutenant Harrison walked over and sat down heavily beside him, sighing deeply. "It seems that we are destined to lose this battle."
They were not only fellow townsfolk but also neighbors who talked about everything without reservation. So, without any hesitation, Harrison complained openly. He shook the leaflet dropped by the German plane in his hand and continued to grumble, "I think the German crown prince is right. There is no chance of winning this battle, but those politicians seem to be completely oblivious to this fact. They only stay behind in safety and order us, those in the front lines, to fight desperately, spilling the last drop of blood. These damn bastards are clearly sending us to our deaths!"
Seeing him getting more and more agitated, louder and angrier, Ashton quickly touched him, signaling him to calm down. However, he also agreed with Harrison. After all, it was the soldiers like them who would die in the war, and their lives wouldn't be threatened like those of the politicians, so the politicians would keep demanding the war to continue.
"No, Livia is still waiting for me at home. I can't die here! Anyway, I have to survive." Harrison muttered to himself. As he repeated this sentence, his gaze became more determined.
"Harrison, you're not thinking of..." Being childhood friends who knew each other well, Ashton could tell from his eyes what he was thinking.
Harrison nodded firmly. "Ashton, think about Maggie and your children at home. If you die here, how will they live?"
Ashton fell silent. He dared not think about the hardships Maggie would face raising the child alone if he died. Perhaps Maggie would choose to remarry, but another man would be a stepfather to the child, and what kind of grievances would the child endure?
After a moment of silence, Ashton gritted his teeth and nodded vigorously. "So, what should we do?" He had fought and bled for his country, and now he had to consider his family and children.
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