December 6, 1940, it was Friday. At that time, there was no concept of weekends. Workers needed to work six days a week. European companies had already popularized the eight-hour working system, but under the publicity and encouragement of governments to rebuild their European homes, working more than fourteen hours a day has become more and more common in European factory companies. Of course, entrepreneurs need to pay some overtime for this, but with the generous returns on profits, these additional expenses are not worth mentioning at all.

"The output this month will increase by 30%. We have organized workers to work in three shifts to ensure that the orders placed by the Air Force can be completed within the scheduled time." The workshop director had a chubby face and said diligently to the lieutenant of the Luftwaffe in front of him.

"While increasing production, the quality of the product must be ensured, which is directly related to the life safety of the pilot. The product is not allowed to have any flaws. I don't want to see anyone throw their heads away for this." The lieutenant explained with a serious expression.

"Mr. Lieutenant, every product here is processed according to standard processes, and after completion, it will undergo strict quality inspection. I have worked in this factory for twenty-seven years, and never a single unqualified product has flowed out of the factory." The workshop director vowed to make a promise, because of the excitement of emotions, two red waves appeared on his round cheeks.

"Mr. Huber, I believe in your management skills. Unfortunately, I can no longer cooperate with you. Lieutenant Schmidt will take over my job in the future." The lieutenant grinned and reached out to take out his gloves from his pocket.

"Lt. Hoffman, are you no longer in production supervision? Is there something wrong?" Huber asked with some concern. Although the young Air Force lieutenant was a little rigid in dealing with people, no soldier is like this these days. Although the two sides have only cooperated for half a year, the factory director has begun to fall in love with this serious Air Force officer.

"No, no, no, where are you thinking, Mr. Huber, this is just a normal job transfer." The Air Force Lieutenant put on black leather gloves.

"Can I ask, which unit you have been transferred to? Will we still have the chance to meet in the future?" Huber asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you the exact unit, but I believe I will meet again in the future, Mr. Huber." Lieutenant Hoffman raised his hand and saluted the workshop director with a cool look, then turned around and walked out the door with big strides.

"The plane will take off on time at 10 o'clock, and it will be too late if you don't set out, sir." Seeing the lieutenant going out, the non-commissioned officer waiting in the bucket cart shouted.

"Don't worry, I'm just saying goodbye to my old friend," the lieutenant walked to the car, opened the door and sat in the passenger seat.

"Schulz, have you brought all the orders and documents?"

“Bring it all.”

“Have your luggage been checked again?”

"I've checked it, and I've never lost all of your precious books." The sergeant putt up and raised his leg and stepped on the accelerator.

"There are only twenty hours left before the operation begins, gentlemen." Lieutenant Sparu said with a serious expression, his eyes scanning the group of chariots under his command.

"This time our company is still the pioneer of the entire regiment. This is honor and responsibility." Lieutenant Spalu walked slowly past the neatly arranged commander.

"There are all veterans here, so I don't need to teach you how to do it. I will only remind you at the end, Germany hopes that everyone can perform their duties." Sparu walked over to the team with his hands behind his back.

"Tank! Go forward!" The captains raised their chests and shouted loudly.

"Dissolve, everyone must complete the battle preparations of the vehicle before dinner, start the engine every four hours after midnight, and each unit must check the backup fuel tank and battery again. I hope all vehicles can stay in their best condition when they set off." Sparu shouted.

"As for orders! Sir!" The chariots saluted the company commander with their chests and then parted in groups of three or three.

"Sir, the telephone number of the regiment command." Sergeant Rem poked his head out of the tent, holding the telephone receiver in his hand.

"I'll come right away." Sparu dusted the dust off his uniform and reached out to uncover the curtain hanging from the tent.

The German armored regiment headquarters usually has a direct communication platoon, and generally has a medium-sized field line squad composed of three trucks, responsible for laying a wired telephone network between the command center and the position. Under the technical conditions at that time, wired telephones were the most commonly used communication and communication means. In addition to the content of the call being not easily detected by the enemy, the call quality was far greater than that of the radio equipment of the same era. Armored troops were not in mobile combat all day long. When stationed in the rear or transferred to the position defense combat situation, communications between the troops were basically reliant on field telephone lines.

"I am Sparu." The armored company commander picked up the phone and said.

"Yes, General!" The lieutenant suddenly raised his chest and bumped into the heel of his boots.

"The 1st Company of the Second Battalion is on standby at any time. Thank you for your praise, sir!" Spalu changed his hand to hold the receiver and shook his finger at Rem with his other hand.

"Pen!" The company commander shook his hand and patted the cigarette handed over by the radio operator, and he whispered to Rem.

"Yes, I'm listening. There's no problem with the sir, Chief of Staff. I'm recording." Spam took the pencil handed over by Rem, pulled the latest issue of the "Defense Forces" magazine on the table, and recorded it on the cover.

"Abdullah Ben Fidel's red pennant, seventy kilometers from the third area, needs me to repeat it? Sir." Sparu put down his pencil.

"Okay, thank you very much, and I wish you good luck, Chief of Staff. OK, goodbye to you." Sparu let out a long sigh and hung up the field phone gently.

"Do you know who was talking to me just now?" Sparu turned his face and looked at Rem.

"It's Major General Hasai, Chief of Staff of the Legion." Before Rem could answer, Sparu had already spoken out loudly.

"Our company has entered the sight of the Legion Command, and the Chief of Staff personally called us to assign tasks. Rem, do you know what this means?" Sparu excitedly waved the magazine in his hand.

"It means that the second company is going to become famous. Rem, we have been regarded as ace by our superiors." Lieutenant Sparu threw the magazine on the table.

"This is the latest issue of the magazine. Lieutenant, I haven't even had time to read it." Rem curled his lips and continued to turn the handle of the coffee mill.

"It's just a cover, there's nothing good to look at anyway." Sparu tore off the cover of the magazine recording the task.

"You keep guarding the phone. I'll go and discuss things with Lieutenant Lansdorf now." The armored battalion commander folded the cover and put it in his pocket on his chest. He reached out and pulled the hem of his military uniform, and then tidied up his military appearance in front of the glass mirror hanging on the pillars of the tent.

"Do you still need to cook coffee?" Rem raised his head and asked.

"Cook a pot first, and drink it when I come back." Sparu nodded to Rem, then turned around and crawled out of the tent.

"Lt. Col. Randolph, Captain Rudolph has specially arranged four officer cabins for you." On the dock at the Zibirit base, a naval captain reported to Randolph.

"Please convey my gratitude to Captain Rudolph, Captain." Randolph's face was filled with a gentle smile.

"Do you need to help you put your luggage into the cabin?" the captain asked respectfully.

"No need, Major General Wilkem, the commander here, was very enthusiastic. He arranged a few Indian servants for us, just sending someone to lead the way." Randolph took off the tropical helmet from his head, took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweat.

"No problem, I will arrange it as soon as possible, Mr. Lieutenant Colonel." The Navy Captain saluted Randolph.

"Goodbye, lieutenant." Randolph put on his helmet and returned a military salute.

"This is really a big ship." Jurgen stood beside Randolph, looking up at the large cruise ship docked on the pier.

"The German Navy's [Cyborg] transport ship was once the KD's [William Gustlov]. But we were not on this boat, but on that one there." Randolph raised his thumb and pointed behind him.

"That is the latest German Navy equipment [Azancoer] attack landing ship." The SS Lieutenant Colonel's face was full of pride, and those who didn't know thought he was the captain.

"【erzengel】Angel Michael?" Jurgen tilted his head and looked at the large landing ship painted in blue and gray camouflage.

"This is the name given by the head of state himself. Is the [Arc] very beautiful?" Randolph turned around and faced the attack landing ship, with his hands on his waist.

"Is it the head of state who named himself? It really makes people feel completely different from other ships." Jurgen looked awe-inspiringly and saluted at the warship.

"Tell you a secret. The name of this [Cybertron] was also changed by the Head of State. You know that the Head of State knew William Gustlov and thought it was unlucky to use this name on the cruise ship." Randolph said to Ergen indifferently.

William Gustlov was once the head of the Swiss Nazi Party branch. Because he carried out anti-Semitism in Switzerland and also publicly sold Nazist books, he was assassinated by a Croatian Jewish student David Frankfurt in 1936.

As a result, this became new evidence of Nazi anti-Semitism, leading to another anti-Semitism wave in German society. In order to commemorate this friend who "sacrificed" for the Nazi cause, the Nazi government named a cruise ship purchased by KD (Krat durh reunde) a vacation organization under the German Labor Front as the number [William, Gustlov].

In history, this cruise ship was sunk by torpedo attacks from the Soviet submarine S-13 in the Baltic Sea on January 30, 1945. At that time, the ship carried more than 1,252 German civilians who retreated from East Prussia, and finally rescued only 1,252 people. Because there was no record of boarding, no one knew how many passengers were actually killed. It can only be estimated based on the number of passengers, which was about 9,200. The William Gustlov incident became the largest shipwreck in human history. Fortunately, this creepy record was not broken until Xu Jun traveled.

"According to the arrangement of the African Army Command, the Cybertron will be used to carry the British and French teams." Captain Horn flipped through the documents in his hand.

"The Gray Sword Team has all boarded the ship, Major Jurgen." Captain Dietretz ran over to report with a briefcase.

"Have all the equipment been delivered? Be sure to make sure there are no omissions." Jurgen said with a calm face.

"I understand, Major, I'll check it again immediately." Dietretz quickly raised his hand, turned around and ran towards the landing ship.

"The weather today is pretty good. Major Jurgen, I hope tomorrow will be a good day." Randolph looked at the sky with his hands behind his back, and a group of fighter jets slowly flew past high altitude, and a faint engine buzzing sound came from his ears.

"I hope tomorrow is a good day, Cote." Major Wycombe leaned against the fence on the bridge's side and looked up at the sky.

"Don't worry, the weather forecast shows that it is also a sunny day, which is like a b109, and it is our plane." Captain Cott took off his tropical helmet and put his hand on a pergola to look into the air.

"Tomorrow's air cover work will depend on them. I hope this landing operation will be as smooth as Sicily." Wickom lowered his head and turned his face to look at the loading deck that was trapped in a busy state.

In this landing operation, Wycombe will not only command the Third Motorized Reconnaissance Battalion, but now he becomes the commander of a Motorized Task Force. In addition to the troops of the Third Battalion itself, he also joins a SS Special Operations Team and a mechanized combat engineer company.

The mission of this mechanized engineer company is to repair the Yanbu Port Pier facilities that may have been damaged during combat, and to build a temporary field airport for landing and refueling aircraft that provide air support to the troops.

At present, the range problem of German aircraft still exists. Although the range can be increased by mounting a secondary fuel tank, the maneuverability and bomb loading weight of the aircraft will be reduced accordingly. Currently, there are less than three airports that can meet the take-off and landing of large aircraft in the Arabian Peninsula, one of which is in Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia.

The only thing the German army can use is the Aqaba Air Force Base in Palestine, and the rest is Zibirit from Suez, Egypt. The straight-line distance from Suez to Riyadh is more than 1,500 kilometers. Even if it takes off from Aqaba base, it is more than 1,200 kilometers away from Riyadh, which has exceeded the combat radius of the current German main bomber He111, not to mention the short-legged Stuka and Mercedeschmidt.

Therefore, choosing a favorable location to establish a field airport in the enemy territory has become one of the top priorities of each attack force. The position of a field airport should not only be flat, but also be convenient for ground defense. At the same time, the traffic must be smooth and fuel and ammunition can be supplied by land. Therefore, the location of a field airport cannot be determined by slapping the head. Professional air force technicians must conduct surveys and judgments, and select the most suitable location to build an airport in a bunch of target areas.

"That's Sergeant Snar's car in the third row in the second row." Kot pointed to the SD.kz234/2 heavy eight-wheel armored vehicle that was hung under the huge cantilever of the dock crane and was tied to a bundle of cables like a dumpling.

This heavy-wheeled armored vehicle, which was not produced in history until 43 years, has been manufactured early under the interference of a certain God's apostle. This heavy-wheeled armored vehicle is an improved model on the SD.kz234/1 eight-wheeled heavy-armored vehicle chassis. An armed turret was equipped with an mg40 machine gun and a sixty-fold long-barreled fifty-mm cannon.

The road speed of this armored vehicle is as high as 84 kilometers per hour, and the off-road speed has reached a speed of 30 kilometers per hour. This car can no longer be regarded as a simple armored vehicle. Strictly speaking, it should be regarded as a wheeled combat vehicle. Because it has the firepower that only tanks have, the power of the 50-mm caliber KK39/l60 artillery may not be very strong in 43 years, but in 1940, the depth of one thousand meters to 36 millimeters was enough to threaten some early models of tanks.

This wheeled armored combat vehicle was named "Sabretoothed Tiger" by Xu Jun, and all eight prototypes with experimental properties were given to the African Legion for use. Historically, this vehicle performed quite well in tropical desert areas. Xu Jun believes that after his improvement, this vehicle should perform better.

The Third Reconnaissance Battalion obtained four of these saber-toothed tigers, and the two armored reconnaissance and platoons were assigned to two.

"The third company was arranged to land for the first wave this time, and we can finally see how this guy performs on the battlefield." Wickom held the eaves of the tropical helmet and watched the armored vehicle slowly land on the deck.

"It's in place, unzip the cables." The crew on the deck ran forward and began to unzip the cables hanging from the hook.

"How is the situation? Snar!" Major Wycombe asked loudly.

"No problem, sir." Sergeant Snar, standing next to the armored vehicle, waved hard at the battalion commander.

"Kotter, I always find it strange why Snar chose that sign." Wycombe turned back and said to Kotter.

"Maybe it's a personal hobby, or it's a family heraldry." Cotter replied with a smile.

"Stop talking nonsense, I've never seen anyone choose this as a family heraldry." Wickom said, pointing at the eight-wheeled armored vehicle on the deck.

I saw this saber-toothed tiger wheel battle with yellow paint all over sand. In addition to the red squad vehicle number on the side of the turret, a huge four-legged snake was also painted with black paint.

ps: The two-in-one chapter is presented, and we will continue to request everyone’s monthly pass support. It is only two days before the end of the month.

Thank you for your support from all book friends, the book that comes after is still chasing us, and it still puts a lot of pressure on us.

The update time tomorrow is similar to today, and it is also this time, and it is still a two-in-one chapter.
Chapter completed!