Chapter 398: The Stubborn People

On a pile of rubble from a building that was as large as a small hill, John picked up a shattered picture frame, shook off the broken glass

On a pile of rubble from a building that was as large as a small hill, John picked up a shattered picture frame, shook off the broken glass on it, and picked out the photo from inside. In the photo was a very happy family of three. Every person’s face was wearing a happy smile.

He raised his head and, looking at the still-burning building not far away, he gave a bitter smile and threw the picture frame at his feet. This family had died in the bombing yesterday. They had not had time to hide in the air-raid shelter and had had no choice but to hide in the basement of this building.

Hiding with them were a dozen or so old people with inconvenient legs and some children. Now they were buried under the rubble and had been roasted by the great fire ignited by the napalm bomb for two hours. John knew that they were already dead, and had died very ugly deaths.

John was now wearing a military uniform and had become a soldier of the British Army. The area he was now responsible for was about several times larger than before, managing about 2,000 volunteers and four armed soldiers. Of course, he was under the command of the original British officer, belonged to the rear air defense forces, and did not have to go to the beach to prepare to fight the German landing forces.

He held the photo and trudged through the rubble, went around an iron bed that was half-buried, and walked step by step to the very top of the ruins. There, two men with armbands nodded to him. This reminded John of his previous self, so he tried his best to squeeze out a smile and nodded in return.

In yesterday’s bombing, the Germans had dispatched nearly 200 planes. Hundreds of tons of bombs had been dropped on the city of London, a scale that John had never seen before. Previously, the German bombers had also frequently visited London, but they had mostly bombed the industrial areas and some secret factories in the suburbs. In the city, they had just dropped some remaining bombs and would then leave.

But yesterday’s air raid had clearly been aimed at the city of London, and this time, the targeting was clearly in retaliation for a certain incident. The number of napalm bombs dropped by the Germans was so outrageous that most of the buildings had been severely damaged.

Most of the houses in London had already become a field of ruins. The Germans had visited London seven times in just ten days, which also included a three-day break. The Hurricane fighter production line on the outskirts of London could now only supplement the losses of the Royal Air Force at a rate of one to two planes per day.

“John, have the casualty numbers been tallied yet?” a young dispatch rider asked, stopping his motorcycle below the rubble. He took out a statistical record book from a pocket hanging on the side of the motorcycle and shouted loudly to John on the ruins, one foot supporting the motorcycle.

“How can it possibly be tallied,” John kicked a piece of rubble on the ruins and replied loudly and helplessly. “There are still 45 buried below. If you count them all, it’s 711, or more.”

“Don’t be too sad. Your district is considered to have relatively few. The most serious district in the south of the city, the ventilation system of an air-raid shelter was blocked by that kind of German incendiary bomb. I hear more than 2,900 people inside died,” the young dispatch rider said, trying to console him.

“When will the relief grain be distributed? That’s the fatal thing,” John said, walking down the ruins and being tripped by something. It took a lot of effort for him not to fall. He scrambled to his feet and then looked up and asked anxiously, “The shops over there have been closed for three days. Many families have nothing left to eat.”

“I don’t know either. I heard that another ship docked yesterday, but I hear it was military supplies sent from the American side. As for when the grain transport ship docked, let me think… it was about three days ago,” the young officer said after a moment’s thought.

John also knew that a grain transport ship had docked three days ago, and he also knew that half of the grain had been sent to the southern coastal defense zone. After all, there were tens of thousands of people there waiting for something to eat.

John sighed, fumbled in his pocket for a crushed cigarette case, and took out the only two cigarettes from inside. He handed them both to the young dispatch rider. “Friend, you have many connections. Help me out. My family has nothing left to eat. Can you find a way to get some?”

“I knew you were going to say that,” the young dispatch rider said with a full smile. “Since we’re so familiar with each other, I won’t ask for much. Four hundred!”

Without a word, John began to rummage through his pockets. After a great deal of effort, he had pulled out all the money he had hidden on his body. “I’ll give you all six hundred. Give me a little more.”

“You’ve got quite an appetite,” the young dispatch rider said, stuffing the money into his own pocket. He then took out two bags of bread from a pocket hanging on his motorcycle, as well as some German-made margarine, and then pulled out a bag of dried fish and took out three small, palm-sized packages of American flour. “This is all I have. It’s all yours.”

He pointed to the German-made margarine and said with great satisfaction, “German goods. I hear even their Akado eats this brand. It was smuggled in. It cost a lot of money! Transporting grain from the United States is not very timely. The interval is too great. Once it’s sunk, it takes more than ten days to recover… Smuggling from the Netherlands and Denmark is a high risk, but at least it’s fast.”

“There are also traitors and madmen among the Germans,” John said, looking at the German margarine in his hand. On it was the shoddy packaging and the Führer’s face, which had been distorted by repeated printing. He sneered. “They’re a real disgrace to their Führer.”

“Isn’t that right?” the young dispatch rider nodded in agreement. “I hear he’s a big shot with a lot of background.”

John was silent for a few seconds, and then he asked again, “Do you think the Germans will land?”

“The people at the top speculate that the possibility of a landing is as high as 90%, so on the few suitable landing sites, we are constantly expanding our defensive forces,” the young dispatch rider knew so much thanks to his rather impressive family. His grandfather was said to be a general and knew many military secrets.

“Can we hold them off?” John asked again.

The young dispatch rider looked left and right and replied cautiously in a low voice, “That I don’t know. The propaganda leaflets that were distributed say that we will definitely be able to beat the Germans back to their old homes. But as for what the outcome will really be, no one can say for sure. My grandfather said in private that the possibility of victory is less than half.”

He sighed and said to John, “My grandfather said that about half of the gun emplacements were built during the last war. They are currently being refitted in a hurry, but because of the lack of materials, most of them can only continue to use the original things.”

“Then how can we stop the German attack?” John asked, hearing for the first time that the London he was in was so dangerous, so he couldn’t help but ask.

“To be honest, those defensive facilities from 20 years ago are already very strong, and some of the main sections are considered well-prepared, so I don’t think there should be any problem, right?” the dispatch rider said after a moment’s thought. “Let’s leave it to fate!”

After saying this, he said goodbye, then started his motorcycle, and with the roar of the engine, he disappeared around the corner of the next street.

John looked at the things on the ground at his feet, and at the gunny sack that the dispatch rider had given him before he left. In peacetime, these few things would not even be worth half of their current price. With a bitter smile, John slung the gunny sack over his shoulder, wanting to take a moment to rush back to the air-raid shelter and to send this food to his wife’s side.

But he found that several ragged volunteers were gathered around him, one by one with hesitant faces, as if they wanted to speak.

Of course, he knew what these people wanted to do, so he did not rush to speak but waited for these people to speak first. In front of these volunteers, he, the person in charge from the military, was the kind of knowledgeable and resourceful formidable figure, just like the dispatch rider or the officer who was his backer in his eyes.

After a standoff of a few seconds, a man finally spoke first. “Sir, this food… can… can you share some with us?” The other people did not speak, but the expressions on their faces clearly showed that they were waiting for an answer.

“That depends on how much money you have,” John replied. “As you must have seen, I also paid for this to save my life. I won’t do it for cheap!”

“I have 300 here!” The man very tactfully took out his banknotes. He had to take out more money because several mouths at home were waiting for him to bring back something to eat.

“I also have 300 here!” another person also quickly took out his money. Only the last volunteer seemed to be short of cash. He was so anxious that his face turned red, but he could not produce any money.

“Butter, flour!” John took out the things, keeping the bread and dried fish for himself, as well as the remaining one packet of flour. He skillfully stuffed the money into his own pocket and then walked back with the remaining things. In terms of value, the gunny sack and the food in his hands were pretty much free.

After walking a street, he found that the man with no money was still following him, his face red, but he was hesitant and did not dare to speak. John did not say much, but opened his pocket and threw the dried fish to the man. “Go back and keep an eye on things for me. If there are any problems, come and find me!”

The man nodded gratefully. “Thank you! I will repay you,” he said, and then ran back to the ruins that John was in charge of, holding the dried fish.

John came to the entrance of the air-raid shelter on the side of the street, walked down the somewhat steep stairs. The corpse that had died an unnatural death was long gone, but the bloodstains and the rubble were still there, proving the story that had once happened.

Every time he passed by, he would look at that corner, at that pool of blood and those dust-covered pieces of rubble.

“Darling,” Seeing his wife and children, John’s mood also improved. He trotted over, picked up his child, and then handed the food to his wife. “I got some food. Give the flour to Mrs. Mary.”

Mrs. Mary was their new neighbor, the wife of the officer who was John’s backer. Their family had moved in two days ago and were now squeezed in with John’s family. Like all the British, the days were getting harder and harder now.

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