"Attack!" Meindl shouted as hundreds of Wehrmacht soldiers stormed out of their cover, charging toward the heavily defended gate of Stavanger Airport.
A massive volume of fire was exchanged every second. Many of the rounds came from the Norwegian machine gun positions.
Herrmann was among the foremost fighters. He lunged behind a burning car for cover, his breathing heavy. Soldier after soldier ran past him. Some fell while others continued forward without hesitation.
He gritted his teeth and reached inside his uniform, pulling something out. He looked at the round object in his hand for a brief second before raising his gaze toward the soldiers gathering around him in search of protection.
"Come on, men! Take this gate! Take this airport!" he shouted, not only to the soldiers but even toward a nearby Hauptmann. The officer did not correct him. Instead, he simply balled his fist and joined in.
"Let's go!" the Hauptmann shouted, rising together with Herrmann.
Herrmann hurled the grenade, then raised his rifle and sprinted forward. Inspired by his momentum, more and more men burst from their cover, charging toward the machine gun positions at the gate.
Meindl lifted his head, watching with admiration, before ordering those around him to advance as well.
Explosion after explosion tore through the Norwegian positions. Their return fire was no longer enough to stop the sheer mass of advancing soldiers. They were quickly overrun.
But Herrmann suddenly stopped.
A turret appeared beside the houses.
"Tank!" he shouted, throwing himself to the side. For many others, it was too late. The Norwegian L-120 tank fired a shell that struck a cluster of German soldiers.
The tank continued rolling forward, already reloading, its turret slowly turning toward the wall Herrmann had chosen as cover.
Then, suddenly, another explosion erupted.
Herrmann turned in bafflement. He saw the source now burning a hole into the hull of the L-120.
One of their own. A German tank.
Herrmann raised his hand into the air. Others followed. With that signal, more and more German tanks finally arrived, relieving the harsh pressure on the infantry.
Most of them were Panzer IVs, a special light variant that was easier to transport by sea.
They rumbled past the clustered soldiers while, above them, plane after plane thundered across the sky.
North Sea, somewhere between the waves
"Vice Admiral, how much longer?" a man clad in a majestic Royal Navy uniform asked, tapping his fingers against the armrest.
"We will arrive within two hours, Admiral Tovey," the Vice Admiral replied, looking up at him.
John Tovey, Commander-in-Chief of the British Home Fleet.
"Hopefully they will resist until then..."
Tovey rose from his seat and stepped out onto the bridge wing. He leaned against the cold metal railing, staring into the distance. The horizon was shrouded in fog, yet through the mist he could make out dozens of silhouettes moving in formation alongside the massive vessel he was currently aboard.
HMS Nelson cut through the harsh Northern Sea proudly, her massive hull marking her presence as one of the largest warships in the British Navy and Tovey's flagship.
"Report our current location and..." Tovey paused, his gaze once again fixed on the horizon, now resting on the massive silhouette of a ship even larger than the others.
"And tell the Ark Royal to ready her planes," Tovey ordered, a crease forming on his forehead.
Although Ark Royal had sustained massive damage during the naval battle of Toulon, she had managed to reach safe waters. The damage, however, had been so extensive that she remained out of service until only a few weeks ago, when Churchill ordered her recommissioned. A decision that both Tovey and several engineers had criticized, as the repairs were not fully completed. Now she was even slower than before.
Still, the fleet remained powerful, ready to face the German ships head-on. This would, after all, be a key moment in the naval war between Germany and Britain. Tovey knew that. That was precisely why the seasoned admiral was unusually tense.
The presence of two additional battleships, Rodney and Warspite, five heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, and twenty destroyers spoke for itself. Alongside them sailed Ark Royal and Furious, the two aircraft carriers completing the formidable formation.
"We really went all out this time. But considering the ships the Germans have sent, this is absolutely necessary," Tovey murmured as he stepped back inside.
Tirpitz, five kilometers off the coast of Stavanger
"Status update," Raeder demanded.
"Oberst Meindl has reported that the airport has been secured and that the remaining Norwegian troops have largely retreated from the city."
Raeder nodded.
"Good work. What about the British?"
The adjutant hesitated for a brief moment as a new signal came through.
"The British... our scouts have spotted them only about fifty kilometers away. They have brought a massive fleet." The adjutant's voice trembled slightly, a detail not missed by the officers on the bridge. The atmosphere tightened instantly.
For a moment, there was complete silence.
Then Raeder suddenly spoke, his fist clenching at his side.
"So have we! We have committed nearly our entire fleet to this gambit. Today, we will fight the British on equal terms for the first time in centuries!" he roared.
Yet even he felt a trace of unease. The scale of what was about to unfold weighed heavily on him.
This would become the largest naval battle of the war.
He nodded almost to himself.
"Ready the ships for battle. Take up formation A and..." He paused, a dangerous glint forming in his eyes. "Inform Captain Prien of the situation. Inform the Führer of this development."
While the two fleets closed the distance and while hundreds of the never seen German planes were already fyling toward the coast. Having launched from bases near Berlin, they moved like a dark cloud across the sky. All while Captain Prien remained unseen.
In the midst of this rising chaos, a single man sat alone, silently eating his dinner.
Paul sat at his table in the Reichskanzlei. He was eating a steak. He cut off a piece, watching as a small amount of red liquid pooled onto the white porcelain plate.
"Mein Führer, the Kriegsmarine and the Royal Navy are about to clash," a man said, sitting across from him. "Hundreds will die."
Paul looked toward Heydrich. The man met his gaze with the usual mixture of interest and admiration.
"Thousands," Paul answered. He cut away another piece of meat.
"But I never sacrifice without reason. Every life will have a meaning. Tonight, British supremacy will end. Their ships will drown in the crimson of our sailors."
-------------------------------------
Thank you all for the support! I appreciate every Power Stone, comment, and review.