The door opened with a loud creak and Paul stepped into the room, dozens of officers looking at him curiously. Paul did not mind them because his gaze lingered on the one man who did not look up. This man did not admire him, hate him, or want anything from him. He was simply leaning over the military map spread across the table.
Paul stepped forward and cleared his throat, waking the man who seemed to be in a trance. He raised his head suddenly, looking at Paul.
"Heinrich?" he asked, smiling lightly. He stood tall now, his Luftwaffe uniform gleaming with awards.
"Kurt," Paul answered, shaking hands with the founding father of German paratrooping for the first time in a long while.
"How is it going?" Paul asked.
"With the plan or with me?" Student asked, laughing lightly.
"Let's do the plan first, and later we grab a beer," Paul suggested, patting Student on the shoulder.
Student nodded, his serious demeanor returning. From a drawer, he took out another map. It was a highly detailed view of a city, with a small ink headline saying: City of Dunkirk.
"A gift from that friend of yours," Student said, spreading the map out neatly. Paul nodded before studying the details.
"So, who will be leading this operation?" Paul asked, turning toward Student.
"One of my best. No, the best," Student answered proudly, gesturing to one of the officers in the room.
Moments later, he returned with a man clad in a pristine uniform. He was middle-aged, tall, and of a strong build.
"Let me introduce you to Oberst Eugen Meindl, of the paratrooper troops," Student said.
"Sir!" Meindl, a famous WWI veteran, saluted Paul rigidly.
Paul nodded, putting Meindl at ease.
"Sir, if I may say so, I have been a big admirer of the Battle of Madrid, in particular the battle of the Madrid airport. It was brilliant."
"Thank you. I heard you too have quite the legacy to present. I look forward to working with you," Paul said, shaking his hand.
Meindl studied Paul with his pristine blue eyes, his mind already racing toward the top secret mission he and his soldiers would soon join.
Present
"Sir!" one of the German soldiers saluted an officer. "We have secured the perimeter."
"Good," the man answered, his voice familiar. Slowly, he turned, his pristine blue eyes lingering on a wooden crate at the edge of the room.
Michael's eyes widened as he tried to press himself against the back side of the crate, distancing himself from the crack.
"Major," Meindl began, slowly walking in the direction of the crate. He stood directly before it, and Michael closed his eyes in regret. Then the officer turned around, back to the Major.
"You and Phillip will take over here. Get those radios to work and send the messages. I will go to the front, because I am sure our actions will be noticed sooner or later," Meindl said. He walked away, his leather boots striking the stony floor loudly.
Michael sighed, sweat pouring down his forehead. After a while, only three soldiers remained in the command room, all working on the British radio. A shiver ran down Michael's spine wondering what they were doing.
But there was someone else too, his muffled sounds annoying the German soldiers. The handcuffed and gagged General Brooke was still cursing the Germans.
"Are you sure we have to keep him alive, sir?" one of the Germans asked, turning and picking up his submachine gun. He soon put it back on the table after receiving a stern look from the Major.
"He is like a trophy, Phillip. You have to find space for it, but once you have placed it down, its gleam will sweeten your day, every day," the Major said, smiling at the General.
What nobody noticed was that, in that moment, a small silhouette sneaked over the floor. Michael used the distraction of the Major and the two other soldiers as a chance.
Slowly, he crept along the floor, the flipped wooden table still somewhat shielding him from their view.
He reached out with his hand, a familiar feeling reaching his body. Slowly, he raised the pistol. His body rose too, his breath ragged and quick, the adrenaline rushing through his blood.
His head poked over the table, his eyes meeting General Brooke's. The General looked at him with surprise and shock.
Then, suddenly, Brooke kicked against the table where the Major and the other two were working. A glass bottle flipped over and shattered.
"What the hell!" Phillip cursed, turning toward the General together with the other two. "Major, can we punish this bastard?"
The Major looked at Brooke, meeting his eyes. Yet something felt weird. The General did not have the same defeated look in his eyes as before. Something was wrong. Something...
Gunfire erupted from the opposite direction. The Major's eyes widened as he lunged through the room. Behind him, both Phillip and another soldier were killed, their blood flowing onto the ground. The Major returned fire while hiding behind a stone wall.
"Whoever you are, you have no chance! Give up now!" he shouted in English, returning fire once again. His submachine gun riddled the table with holes.
Michael's eyes went wide. Bullet holes penetrated the table all around him, and one of them grazed his shoulder, drawing a little blood. He collected himself quickly and reloaded his gun, his fingers shaking. It was the last ammunition he had. These were the last shots he would fire. One of them had to hit, or else...
The Major had been reloading too. Just as both men finished and slowly revealed themselves from cover, a loud whistle suddenly sounded. Both men looked to the ceiling through the large hole. A burning fireball, what was once a plane, was falling directly toward them.
Both ran. Michael ran toward the back door, tearing it open and lunging through it. The Major ran in the opposite direction through the front door, throwing himself through it.
Then came a massive shock. The whole building shook as the plane crashed violently into the upper floor. Stone fell everywhere and fire engulfed the ceiling of the command room, the tip of the plane leaning through the hole.
Cough. Cough.
Michael managed to stand up again, his mind blank for a moment. He tore the door open again. The room was now half destroyed and the plane was still burning, half sunken into the ceiling. Fuel leaked out of one of the tanks. Michael's eyes searched the room. The place where General Brooke had been was now empty, a large stone lying there instead.
"General?" he whispered. "General, did you survive?"
Then came a muffled cough, coming from under the table where the Germans had been working.
"Here."
Michael ran toward the source, shoving away stones and debris. He found General Brooke, who had survived somehow under the table, his gag hanging loosely around his neck.
"Help me, soldier," the General said.
Michael quickly pulled the man out while explosions sounded virtually everywhere.
"The Germans, they are closing in," the General muttered, standing up while leaning against Michael.
"We have to go, General. To the docks. I believe the ships must be arriving soon," Michael said, walking as quickly as he could with the officer.
"Yes, this hellhole is done for," he answered.
The two made their way through the castle, with the General now carrying their only pistol. Slowly, they turned a corner, a damp light filling the corridor, when the sound of boots could be heard. Quickly, they went back, pressing against the wall. German soldiers ran through the corridor shouting and talking.
"Did you manage to at least send the message?!" Meindl's voice could be heard.
"I think so, sir," the Major from before answered. Their voices grew more distant, but one sound did not diminish. It was the sound of a single soldier walking slowly in their direction.
Michael pressed his lips together.
An arm. A foot. A head.
A gunshot echoed through the empty hallway. The German soldier fell to the ground, bleeding from the head. The General laughed dryly, shaking his head before handing the pistol over to Michael.
"Here. I have no energy left for this."
Michael took it with hesitation before they continued, finally managing to leave the castle through a back door. A large volley of gunshots came from the front.
"Perhaps they finally noticed something," the General muttered before turning back to the front again.
The two stood on the small hill where the castle was built. The pier and the city lay before them, or what remained of them. It was a scene like the apocalypse, with fires and explosions raging everywhere. Chaos was visible from above, with soldiers running in different directions. Some were running away from the harbor, where countless ships were coming in, many still looming on the horizon.
Seeing those ships put a small smile upon the General's lips, but it soon vanished when he saw the disorder.
"What the hell are they doing? Why are they running in different directions? This makes no sense. Why would they run away from the ships?" the General shouted, balling his fist.
"Come! I have to give orders!" he added, small amounts of blood still coming from his wound.
Together, they continued through the chaotic streets of Dunkirk. Soldiers were running everywhere, fear, panic, and anger visible on their faces. They did not even notice the General or his shouts for order.
The two continued toward a small armored car still running in a corner. As their pace slowed because of the General's injuries, they quickly boarded the vehicle. It felt like the only luck they had found all day.
"Quick!" the General shouted as explosions echoed all around them. Another house was hit, bricks and wood splintering onto the street before them.
Michael turned the wheel in the opposite direction, dodging the falling debris. Some of it still hit the car, leaving a visible dent in the armor. The vehicle jumped up and down as it drove over various pieces of wreckage.
"Thank God for armored cars," Michael said, his eyes wide and focused on the road before him. Soldiers scrambled to dodge the speeding vehicle.
"There!" the General shouted, pointing toward the pier. "That's Colonel Mayers. I know him!"
Michael nodded, pressing down the brake and coming to a halt right beside a small group of officers. Their eyes widened when they saw the General. They quickly ran toward the car, heaving him out.
"General!" one of them shouted.
"What is going on? Why are we not allowed to board the ships!?" one of the men shouted in frustration.
Another man shoved him away. It was Colonel Mayers.
"Are you injured, General?" he asked, studying the bleeding wound on the General's torso.
"Don't mind that!" Brooke shouted almost angrily. "Mayers," he said, his voice pressing as he pulled the man close to him. "What did he say before? Not to board the ships?"
Brooke clung to Mayers, who looked at him with confusion.
"Did you not order it yourself? You said we should not board the ships until you said so. Some did board them anyway, but many still obeyed. What is..."
"My God," Brooke muttered, stepping back. He almost fell down, but Michael grabbed him at the last moment, stabilizing him. "Oh my God. It was the Germans. Their message. That is what they planned all along," he whispered, absolute horror on his face.
The world was burning around him, but right now, it was burning inside him too. He shook his head, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched.
"Colonel Mayers. This was no order of mine. It was the Germans impersonating me."
"The Germans?" Mayers asked, confused.
"There is no time!" Michael shouted, interrupting their talk.
"Right," Brooke nodded. "Get everyone onto those ships! Every soldier!" Brooke shouted loudly, his voice cracking.
"THIS IS AN ORDER!" he screamed when he noticed the confusion of his men.
"Yes, sir!"
They began running in different directions, shouting and whistling to signal the troops. In the sky, more and more British airplanes appeared, trying to shield the masses of troops boarding the ships. But the Luftwaffe was prepared too. The battle for the sky entered a new round, an even more devastating one.
On the ground, it looked even worse for the Allies. Tank after tank appeared on the city's border. Behind them lay countless positions now filled with corpses, their tracks having left behind only fire and blood. Their turrets opened fire on the distant pier and the ships.
"Quick! Quick!"
Soldiers poured through the doors of the ships while officers waved them inside. Suddenly, a large explosion echoed. One of the ships, which was still trying to dock, was hit. A gaping hole now marred its hull, yet it continued onwards like everyone else that night.
The German paratroopers still entrenched in the castle held out, waiting for their saviors. The British and mostly French soldiers held out as long as they could, though their defense crumbled in the end. The RAF held out, fighting a bloody and costly battle against the Luftwaffe. General Brooke held out too, his face already pale from blood loss when he finally boarded one of the last ships.
Still, of the 150,000 British troops, only around half made it onto the ships in time. Many were still confused, while others fought to the death. It was a devastating result, but not one that would force Britain to its knees just yet. The British would keep standing and keep fighting despite the blow the Germans had dealt them.
Slowly, steps echoed.
A man was walking across the field of corpses built up before a weathered stone building. His uniform was an anomaly across the field of British ones. He stepped over the body of what had been a British Major when a small group of soldiers appeared from the entrance of the building. They were clad in British uniforms, yet the single man raised his hand in a familiar greeting.
"Generalmajor!" Meindl saluted. He tried to stand straight, but the wound in his torso hindered him.
Paul shook hands with Meindl and patted him on the shoulder. Paul's gaze tilted sideways behind Meindl, where only a handful of German soldiers stood. They held their hands behind their backs despite all their wounds.
"These are the only ones left," Meindl whispered, his gaze tired.
"Their sacrifice will be remembered. They will be remembered. History will speak," Paul said. He turned toward the ships on the distant horizon, the growing intensity of the sunrise reflecting in his blue eyes.
History is relative... he thought.
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One of my favourite chapters until now
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