Chapter 408: Norwich

On the grassy field, Borol once again gave the order to check equipment. This was his third nighttime boarding and parachute jump in recent

On the grassy field, Borol once again gave the order to check equipment. This was his third nighttime boarding and parachute jump in recent days, but unlike the others, this time he knew he was going to Britain.

The battalion commander had just assigned the attack missions, ensuring every soldier had confirmed his objective. The photos brought back by spies were incredibly detailed; every building, significant tree, and even road signs were marked on their combat maps.

Afterward, all the men were instructed to relieve themselves, then began checking their gear, along with the weapons, ammunition, and supplies that had been distributed the day before. Everyone was excited, but apart from the company commanders and above, they still didn’t know which British city they would be dropped into. Once the missions were assigned, everyone was confined to the camp. Any departure required an escort of at least three people. To ensure the operation remained secret until the very last moment, German intelligence had gone to painstaking lengths.

Behind the small port city of Bacton, near the landing zone, was a small town called Bite. This was the crucial strongpoint that the German paratroopers needed to capture to block the British IV Corps’ counter-attack towards the beach. Germany planned to drop three full battalions in this area, and Borol’s company was one of them.

“Board the aircraft!” an officer shouted from a short distance away. With a rustle of gear, all the paratroopers got to their feet. They wore parachute packs on their backs, reserve chutes and various supply pouches on their chests, and had ammunition and tents for their comrades strapped to their legs. The soldiers carrying heavy weapons couldn’t manage as much weight, so their miscellaneous items were distributed among the other soldiers to carry.

Borol helped a tall subordinate, who was struggling to get up, to his feet. He then walked over to Baru and signaled for everyone to board their designated planes. General Student himself would be parachuting into Britain with his men this time. For this airborne operation, which involved 15,000 men, Germany had prepared 750 transport aircraft of various models and 690 gliders of all types. These aircraft would be responsible for delivering the German paratroopers to their specific locations, dropping 40 tons of additional supplies, and then returning simultaneously.

Unlike previous airborne operations, this one would also involve 110 Crusader helicopters for both the paratrooper drop and the beach landing. These aircraft would provide cover for the landing forces and transport some of the paratroopers. This risky move was a joint recommendation from several military leaders; the more varied the joint operation, the more effective it would be during the landing.

Borol watched his men board the familiar Ju-52 transport one by one until he was the only one left. He reached up, took Baru’s outstretched hand, and pulled himself aboard. The roar of engines already filled the entire airfield; the sound of hundreds of transport planes starting up at once could only be described as magnificent.

Once the door was closed, the noise inside the cabin lessened considerably. Baru grinned foolishly, waiting for Borol to announce their destination. Borol smirked, deliberately keeping them in suspense.

“Sir, it’s not Norwich, is it?” Baru blurted out, scratching his head as he asked his company commander.

“Tell me, how did you know?” Borol asked without confirming or denying.

“It’s always the same flight time. You calculate the plane’s speed, draw a circle on the map… they wouldn’t drop us at Oxford behind London, would they? That only leaves the area around Norwich,” Baru said, laughing with a few other veterans beside him.

Borol nodded, acknowledging the destination. “A small town called Bite, near Norwich, less than 10 kilometers from the small port of Bacton. We drop there, then capture it and defend against the British counter-attack.”

As he spoke, he took a map from his pouch, spread it out in the dim light of the aircraft, and pointed to their operational area. “We will arrive at the target zone four hours ahead of the landing force. After clearing obstacles, we must do our best to help the landing force by destroying nearby British artillery positions.”

“That’s quite a list of tasks,” Baru said with a chuckle.

“The bomber units stationed at Dunkirk took off only 25 minutes before us. They will bomb the entire Norwich region, destroying all the marked British troop positions,” Borol said, pointing to several spots on the map. “Here, here, and here and here. If we’re lucky, we’ll only find a pile of warm corpses.”

“And if we’re unlucky, there’s a whole battalion of Brits waiting for us down there, right?” Baru shrugged and joked.

The regimental commander had mentioned during the briefing that there were likely British anti-aircraft positions nearby, but their exact scale and the trouble they might cause for the airborne troops were hard to say. Based on their experience from the large-scale airborne operation in the Netherlands, the anti-aircraft fire would only be denser, not lighter.

In other words, the moment the paratrooper transport formation entered British airspace, the British anti-aircraft units would likely open fire without mercy. How many would survive would be left to fate. Borol was still relatively confident on this point; the several airborne operations he had participated in had gone smoothly, and he himself was still in one piece.

However, compared to the other drops, this one was an innovative and highly challenging operation. The previous missions had been carried out in broad daylight; this one had to be done at night. What made it even more difficult for the paratroopers was that the tasks of capturing the town and destroying the enemy artillery positions also had to be completed before dawn. Thinking about it, the difficulty was not insignificant.

Still, one had to look on the bright side. At least, that’s what Borol and his paratroopers told themselves. At least they wouldn’t have to face British armored forces, so the remaining tasks were relatively straightforward.

After assigning tasks and arranging routes for cover and assault, time passed quickly. Soon, the red warning light inside the aircraft lit up. Outside, beyond the roar of the engines, the sound of dense explosions began to be heard. It seemed the British air defenses in the Norwich area were indeed a considerable force.

Not far away, a Ju-52 towing a glider was hit by a shell. Paratroopers were thrown from the flaming fuselage, and the severed tail of the plane, still attached to the glider, plunged towards the ground. By the time the glider pilot managed to break free from the burning wreckage, they were already too low to reach Norwich.

The massive fireball from the explosion illuminated Borol’s face. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a plane explode, so compared to the fear and panic of his men, he showed more numbness and indifference. He was used to life and death. From the moment he had said goodbye to Big Beard in France, he knew that for a soldier, death was as normal as breathing. He just had to live on silently, until the day God called for him.

“Final check on your equipment!” Borol averted his gaze and shouted inside the cabin. “Load your weapons! You’ll understand how important this is the moment you land! The password is ‘Lightning’—’Thunder’! If the response is not the password, open fire immediately! Understood?”

“Understood!” all the men in the shaking cabin shouted back.

“Take a good look at these photos! If you don’t see these landmarks where you land, it means you’ve drifted from the planned operational area. In that case, you are to form your own combat groups, led by the highest-ranking officer, and make your way back to our original zone as quickly as possible… Out here, you are surrounded by enemies. Do your best to survive!” Borol continued to shout to his men.

He paused, then added, “At dawn, we will have support from a second wave of bombers. At that time, you must mark your positions clearly! Unfurl the German flags issued to each of you. That’s the only way to avoid being attacked by friendly forces!”

“Yes, sir!” Baru led the response, and everyone shouted once more. Outside the plane, more anti-aircraft fire exploded around them. The British defense system seemed stronger than imagined.

Everyone stood up and clipped their parachute hooks to the static line, swaying slightly with the plane’s vibrations. No one spoke, nor did they sing their familiar songs. The trial they were about to face had made them all extremely tense. They didn’t dare to lose focus or relax for a moment.

Suddenly, the green light inside the transport flashed on. Borol nodded. Baru pushed open the cabin door and, as the wind flooded in, his deep voice roared, “The drop begins! Go! Go! Go!”

One by one, the paratroopers leaped out of the cabin. They spread their arms out flat in the sky, falling with the whistling wind. To their front, back, and sides were their comrades, so they did not feel alone. British anti-aircraft machine guns raked the sky, but the white parachutes continued to multiply, like edelweiss blooming on the slopes of the Alps.

Last of all, Borol stood at the cabin door, staring down at the darkness below. A smile touched his lips. He jumped out into the fiery chaos, letting his body drift down to the earth beneath his parachute.

Britain, London, the Prime Minister’s Residence.

An officer ran into Churchill’s office. Meeting the Prime Minister’s expectant gaze, he gasped out, “It’s confirmed! The German landing site has been confirmed!”

“Quickly, man! Where is it?” Churchill asked, standing up.

The officer swallowed hard and uttered the devastating words: “The German landing site… is Norwich!”

The novel has already been fully translated up to the final chapter. You can access it on my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/c/caleredhair