Chapter 237: Chapter 315 Fall of Malta
The first landing craft charged onto the beach.
"Lower the ramp!" The landing craft driver forcefully pushed down the lever, and with a grating metallic friction sound, the heavy steel ramp quickly fell forward, slamming fiercely onto the sandy shore.
The MG3 machine gun mounted on the landing craft wildly swept the British positions across the way. The long belt of ammunition continuously fed bullets to the machine gun, and spent shell casings fell inside the landing craft, producing crisp clattering sounds.
"Quick! Quick! Quick! Staying here is a death sentence! Hurry and find cover!" The platoon leader loudly urged his soldiers to get down quickly. Once the landing craft's ramp was lowered, it became the most dangerous place. With so many people crowded into a confined space, enemy gunfire could cause significant casualties.
Veterans who understood this principle rushed out instantly, while the new recruits stumbled along behind.
Hidden British firepower opened fire. Bullets, not very densely packed, swept over, hitting a few unlucky individuals. However, the majority of the Marines successfully charged onto the beach, taking cover in craters of varying depths, fiercely retaliating with various weapons in hand.
"Boom!" A shell struck the landing craft directly, instantly shattering the wooden structure, and the machine gun that had been firing continuously on the landing craft was blown into pieces.
Attack aircraft circling in the sky immediately dove down, dropping a 250-kilogram bomb toward the concealed firepower point. Accompanied by a deafening roar, the firepower position was blasted into the air.
More and more landing crafts charged onto the beach, all kinds of light and heavy weapons firing relentlessly at the British positions.
A comprehensive suppression of firepower from sea, land, and air kept the British pinned down, making it impossible for them to lift their heads. Seizing the opportunity, the Marine Corps members began to advance.
"Boom!" An amphibious tank rolled onto the beach, its turret rotating. It fired a shell toward a distant target.
Clang! Several bullets hit the armor of the amphibious tank, but apart from sparking a few flames, they had no discernible impact.
"Boom!" Before the turret could rotate, the second amphibious tank that followed fired a shot toward the machine gun emplacement that was firing. It obliterated the position.
With more and more amphibious tanks landing, the pressure on the British positions instantly skyrocketed. In the absence of anti-tank weapons, they found it difficult to resist the tank assault.
Finally, the first line of defense was breached, and the British could only reluctantly retreat to the second line.
But before they could hold their ground at the second line, a barrage of rockets covered the entire defense line. Faced with the oncoming German forces, the British were forced to retreat to the third line.
The battle raged on for more than four hours, and the remaining British forces were compressed into an area of less than ten square kilometers. In other areas, the British troops were either captured or annihilated.
A loudspeaker broadcasted the German surrender announcement. "This is the final surrender notice. Don't resist in vain. Surrender by putting down your weapons within ten minutes!"
"Comrades, we've done our best..." The Maltese Army commander looked at his colleagues beside him and sighed helplessly. "Does anyone think we can continue fighting?"
Silence ensued; no one spoke. How could they continue fighting? They were squeezed into such a narrow area that the next German artillery barrage might wipe them out entirely.
"Well, since no one is willing to persist, I order surrender... Does anyone oppose?" The army commander asked again, and everyone nodded in agreement with dejected expressions.
Soon, the remaining British forces raised white flags.
Malta Island fell completely!
German radio immediately announced the decisive victory in the Battle of the Mediterranean. The Imperial "Amplifier" Goebbels touted the seizure of Gibraltar and Malta as another victory for Germany and its allies, decisively shattering British maritime supremacy in the Mediterranean. This victory would undoubtedly propel the German people further on the road to counteracting British oppression.
Occupying this "unsinkable aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean" is essentially cutting off the British Mediterranean route. The sea route between the European continent and North Africa is now unimpeded, and a secure supply line to North Africa has been established.
Countless freighters began shuttling back and forth in the Mediterranean, transporting various weapons, building materials, personnel, machinery, and other goods from France and Italy to the desert city of Libya.
France and Italy each contributed one hundred anti-aircraft guns and a division of soldiers, although they did not know exactly what they were supposed to protect.
Wilhelm even brought out the latest radar, 50 Fw 190 fighter planes, 100 attack planes, and an armored division.
A freighter slowly docked at the port of Sirte. Rommel, wearing desert camouflage, descended the ship's gangway, looked around, and exclaimed, "What a good weather."
More than 95% of the entire territory of Libya is desert and semi-desert. The northern coastal area has a subtropical Mediterranean climate, warm and rainy in winter, and hot and dry in summer. The average temperature in August is around 26°C.
Two soldiers in desert camouflage walked towards him. Their uniforms were covered in yellow sand and dust, giving them a somewhat disheveled appearance. However, it was apparent that they had just returned from the distant desert and had not suffered defeat. After all, Mussolini had not had a chance to provoke trouble in North Africa yet. The situation in North Africa was still relatively peaceful.
An officer with the rank of colonel saluted him. "Welcome to Africa, General Rommel. Colonel Edman, the person in charge of P City, is ready to receive your instructions."
Rommel returned the salute. "Colonel Edman, shall we go to P City first?" He had never been here before, only hearing a few years ago that His Highness had leased the Sirt Basin from Italy to build a desert city.
"General, please." The few of them got into a desert jeep and drove onto the road leading deep into the desert.
Looking at the vast, flat desert around them, Rommel's face showed an excited expression. "This is a great place, truly a paradise for armored units! With 1000 tanks, I could sweep everything! Haha!" Laughter echoed, and a gust of sand blew over, hitting the car's windshield and making crackling sounds.
"Phew!" Rommel spat out the sand that blew into his mouth, feeling the grittiness and even sensing the sand rubbing against his teeth with a squeaky sound. He took the water bottle handed by his adjutant, rinsed his mouth, feeling a bit better, and couldn't help but complain, "This is like an engine hell."
Colonel Edman explained, "Rest assured, Your Excellency General. Engines in the desert have special air filters to adapt to the climate here, so the engine failure rate is not much higher than in other places."
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