Chapter 403: An Ugly Display

Among the refugees, the families of soldiers, who had at least some connections and resources, were the best off. The wealthy aristocratic families had already fled the cities to their ancestral castles in the countryside. The remaining minor nobles, with their limited connections, were not necessarily living any better than some of the commoners.

John’s family was happily eating the last of their bread with Mrs. Mary, the wife of a neighboring officer, and her children. Not far away, several less fortunate families had already run out of food and could only watch the children eating, swallowing their saliva.

The supply lines from America and South America to the British mainland had never been completely severed, though they suffered heavy losses. As a result, essential supplies like food were still available, albeit intermittently. If you went hungry for one meal, you might receive some relief supplies for the next. Although some elderly people had already starved to death due to the food shortages, life had to go on, didn’t it?

The officer was usually busy with many duties, and as the possibility of a German invasion grew, his workload increased. He rarely had time to visit his wife and children in the air-raid shelter, so John took on the responsibility of looking after the officer’s family most of the time.

Watching the children from both families eating bread and laughing happily, John felt that even though life was terrible, it was still filled with hope. He sat next to his wife, leaning against the cold concrete wall of the shelter, feeling the chill seep into his back. This was his life, a life in a forgotten corner of the war.

“Hey! You have so much food, you should share some with us!” Just as John was watching his son’s smiling face as he ate, several men in old suits and carrying canes walked past Mrs. Mary. John recognized them. They were a few down-on-their-luck nobles from the other side of the street who had come to claim territory after the bombing.

“Sirs! This is our space,” Mrs. Mary, clearly not a woman to be trifled with, retorted after a glance at the men who were obviously looking for trouble. She pursed her lips and said, “What we eat and who we share it with is none of your business.”

“It’s because of people like you, hoarding the food that should have been our share, that we’re going hungry!” The men, who had come to snatch food, grew angry and shouted their twisted logic. “You watch us starve; you’re a bunch of heartless people!”

“What are you talking about? You spent your money on wine, and now that you have no money for food, you go around stealing from others. What right do you have to lecture us?” John’s wife frowned, defending her neighbor. “We can’t stop you from robbing others, but now you dare to rob us?”

“So what if we rob you? Hand over the food! Not even the police have any authority here!” the leader of the group shouted furiously, kicking aside an old woman cowering nearby. “We were only going to take half, but now I’ve changed my mind. All of you, get out of this shelter!”

“We were the first ones to take refuge here,” John said, standing up to shield his family and Mrs. Mary from the thugs. He blocked their path and said sternly, “I am a military officer. If you don’t want trouble, get lost now!”

The leader visibly hesitated, and the men behind him were even more cowardly, shrinking back slightly. However, they had been bullying others for food for some time now, and the surrounding elderly had already been squeezed dry. That was why they had mustered the courage to bother John’s family.

Now, caught in a difficult position and genuinely out of food, they decided to take the risk. The leader gritted his teeth, thinking to himself that at worst, they could beat him up and run. In these chaotic times, no one would likely care about such a trivial matter.

With that thought, he roared, “Enough talk! Get them!” He and his men charged forward. John threw a punch that landed squarely on the leader’s face, making him cry out in pain.

John wasn’t a particularly strong man, but due to his circumstances, he had not gone hungry. His opponents, though some were taller than him, were weak from their recent lack of food and were not much stronger than he was.

For a moment, amidst the screams of John’s wife and Mrs. Mary and the cries of the children, John was locked in a brawl with several men. But they had the advantage of numbers, and John was soon overwhelmed and knocked to the ground by a punch.

With John out of the way, the men became even more brazen, their greedy eyes fixed on the half-sack of flour and two bags of bread stored in the corner. Just as the down-on-his-luck noble leader reached for the food, a gunshot rang out from behind him.

John had pulled the revolver he had found from his pocket and fired a shot into the leader’s back. The man was hit, stumbled forward, and collapsed to the ground. His screams echoed through the air-raid shelter, carried far by the sound of the gunshot.

“Anyone who takes another step, I’ll kill them!” John spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. He pushed himself up with one hand, the other holding the still-smoking revolver. “This space is ours! This food is ours! Any questions?”

“No! None at all!” the other men quickly shook their heads. Seeing the ruthlessness with which John had fired the gun and the fallen noble on the ground, whose fate was unknown, they lost all desire to steal food. Their only thought now was how to escape.

“Don’t let me see you again! Understand?” John pointed the gun at the groaning man on the floor and shouted, “Take this bastard with you! And get out!”

Hearing John’s words, the men felt as if they had been granted amnesty. They bowed and scraped, hastily picked up the now-unconscious thug from the ground, and fled from John’s section of the shelter, not daring to look back.

As he watched them leave, John felt as if all his strength had drained away. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Mrs. Mary covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably, while John’s wife squatted on the floor, staring blankly at the pool of blood in front of them.

This was the cruelty of war, the depravity of human nature. What had just happened in this cramped air-raid shelter seemed to represent everything wrong with this miserable world. People turned on each other, for one reason or another, forcing their sins upon others.

That evening, the officer returned to the shelter. After his wife recounted the day’s events, he said nothing. He simply walked over to John’s family and gestured for John to take a walk with him.

The two men left the shelter one after the other, stepping out onto the street, which was littered with rubble and broken bricks.

“Thank you,” the officer said with genuine sincerity. “I am very grateful that you looked after my family today. The next time you go out, give my wife the gun, just in case. I’ll find a way to get you another one.”

“I understand,” John replied with a nod.

“I have a second lieutenant’s commission available. I’ll recommend you for it tomorrow,” the officer said after a moment’s thought. “I know that in these chaotic times, a promotion might not seem like a good thing, but it will make things easier in some respects.”

John knew this was the officer’s way of repaying him. He nodded his thanks. “Thank you. I will continue to do my best.”

They fell silent after that, walking slowly along the pitch-black street. A German bomber had destroyed a power station that afternoon, and parts of London were without electricity, plunging the area into darkness. Many civilians were complaining, wondering why the British government wouldn’t just negotiate with the Germans to end this seemingly endless war.

But it seemed the high levels of the British government never heard these complaints. In the current climate, anyone who called for negotiations was branded a traitor, and anyone who advocated for compromise was labeled a coward and a German collaborator. Amidst this near-frenzied atmosphere, the government never even considered the possibility of peace talks with Germany.

As they walked back to the shelter, they saw two army officers and several soldiers carrying a crate inside. They exchanged a look, and a deep sense of unease seemed to pass between them.

“Excuse me, what’s going on? Has something happened?” the two men asked, quickening their pace and approaching the soldiers.

“Sir!” the two army officers snapped to attention and saluted. “We are here under orders to distribute combat supplies.”

“Could there be a mistake?” John asked, his face a mask of confusion. “These are all civilians. What combat supplies are you distributing? This isn’t a military facility, just a civilian air-raid shelter. Are you saying it’s being requisitioned?”

“No, sir!” the army officer said, glancing at the anti-aircraft officer before patiently explaining, “According to the Prime Minister’s ‘Order for the Defense of the British Homeland,’ every British family is to be issued one hand grenade. If the Germans land and invade British cities, every British citizen must rise up and resist!”

John looked to his protector. The anti-aircraft officer frowned. “These civilians have no training. It’s incredibly unsafe for them to use hand grenades. Has the military considered this?”

The army officer shook his head and explained, “We don’t know about that, sir. We are just following orders to distribute these weapons to civilians. Whether they will be trained later or are expected to use them as they see fit, I have no idea.”

“Those bastards! They’re sending our wives and children to their deaths!” John hissed through gritted teeth.

“We have many more places to distribute grenades,” the army officer said, pointing to a truck parked nearby. “If you don’t mind, we’ll proceed with the distribution now.”