"Dust returns to dust, soil returns to soil." A rifle that had removed the bolt of the gun was inserted straight into the sand, and a sand-colored helmet was buckled on the top of the buttstock.

"Everyone stands attentively! Salute!" After adjusting the collar of the sandy yellow uniform, Randolph raised his right arm to say goodbye to the deceased. Three SS soldiers stood upright behind the lieutenant colonel. They raised the bayonet rifles in their hands and offered gun salute to the victims.

"Prepare! Shoot!" Captain Horn made a loud call, and the soldiers took out their rifles and shot into the sky. They shot five live ammunitions in the empty bullet bay. This simple battlefield funeral ceremony was officially completed.

"This is the destination of a soldier. Although it is not a battlefield, it is better than dying from old age in the bed." Jurgen bent down and grabbed a handful of sand and soil, then let go of his fingers, and the slippery sand and dust drifted in the wind.

"What should we do next? Should we find a way out or continue to stay where we are waiting for rescue." Ensign Krieger was wrapped in a gray-green military hemostatic bandage on his head, and the blood oozed from the wound on the side of his head had already clotted into brown blood spots.

"It has been a day. We must find a way to save ourselves now. The drinking water carried on the plane will not last long. We must find that oasis before the fresh water is exhausted." Randolph walked to everyone with his waist and announced his opinion loudly. In fact, this is equivalent to an order, after all, he has the highest military rank present.

"Before leaving, we will check this big guy carefully to see what else can be used for." Randolph gave a thumbs up and pointed at the wreckage of the plane behind him.

=

"Their route is very clear. If the plane did not deviate, we would probably have made a forcibly landed in this area." The speaker was a major staff officer of the Royal Air Force, who pointed out the range on a huge aviation map with a coach stick.

"You also saw that it was a large area, and the search force on our hands was somewhat insufficient." The person who spoke was a British Army Lieutenant Colonel.

"What about the results of the air reconnaissance? Haven't the traces of that plane been found yet?" Colonel Daogen wore a blue and gray armed SS colonel uniform, with a red ground black hawk shield from the head of the head of the headquarters on his left arm, and a black armband of the head of the head of the guard flag on his cuff.

This is a person from the core of the Third Reich. At this moment, both British and Germans felt the invisible pressure in the conference room, because behind the colonel was the legendary head of the empire.

"Sorry, there is no result yet. When the accident was discovered, the base in Yanbu Port immediately dispatched a light reconnaissance plane, but the plane disappeared later. In the final contact record, the pilot reported that the plane was attacked by wind and sand, and the entire sky was stained with sand and dust. He wanted to climb above the clouds at that time, but the communication was suddenly interrupted." A major from the Luftwaffe reported.

"They can't disappear without a trace in the world. They will always leave some traces. I can feel that Lieutenant Colonel Randolph is still alive. He is waiting for us to rush to rescue. How much baggage did they carry when they set off?" Daogen turned his head and looked at Lieutenant Colonel of the British Army.

"They were riding a modified "Wellington" bomber. The cabin was very spacious, and there were eleven pilots in total. Because the original plane was originally planned to return to Yanbu Port that day, each person only carried standard individual supplies, plus the first aid food and drinking water on the plane, which was estimated to ensure their survival needs for 48 hours. We are only worried that someone among them would be injured when they fell, because the wounded would speed up their drinking water consumption." The Army Lieutenant Colonel reported.

"The fuselage structure of Wellington is very strong. The pilot Lieutenant Winter is a veteran, with a flight time of more than 9,000 hours, and most of the time is Wellington. We believe that after the plane is unexpected, with Lieutenant Winter's skills, it should be possible to fly the plane to land in the desert." Major of the RAF added.

"It has been more than twenty-four hours since the incident happened, and there is not much time left for us." Daogen said with a stern face.

"Sir, the 21st Armored Regiment reported that they have sent search troops to the target area as per your order." The SS communications officer handed over a telegram translation.

"How is the search team you sent before? I heard they are missing too." Daogen lowered his head and looked at the telegram, then looked up at the British Army Lieutenant Colonel.

"I just lost contact, maybe I encountered a communication failure, and the guides they hired were very experienced and should not get lost in the desert." The Lieutenant Colonel reported.

After Randolph's plane crashed, the news alarmed the British Army troops landing in Yanbu Port. The British Army volunteered to send an elite aircraft landing team. They flew over the Hanzhi Mountains in three gliders. According to the report of the towed plane, all three gliders successfully landed in the desert. However, when the scheduled communication time was reached, the Yanbu Base did not receive the radio signal from the other party for a long time. This search team composed of twenty-two British paratroopers seemed to have evaporated under the scorching sun in the desert, which made the British army feel a little puzzled.

"Tell me about the missing reconnaissance plane." Daogen looked at the major of the Luftwaffe in a blink of an eye.

"It was a white stork reconnaissance aircraft affiliated to the African Legion Command. The pilot was Lieutenant Lehhard and the backseat observer was Sergeant Corrison. Lehhard was an excellent pilot, participated in the battles of Poland and France, and won the Cross of the Sword of Military Merit. As long as the structure of the aircraft was not damaged, he would definitely be able to land the aircraft safely." The Air Force Major's tone was quite affirmed, and he was obviously confident in the pilot's skills.

"Do you know this Lieutenant Lehard?" Daogen asked.

"Yes, sir, he is the best white stork pilot I've ever met." The Air Force Major replied loudly.

=

"Don't worry about the radio station, this thing is over." Lehard cut off a piece of canvas skin from the tail wing with a short knife, which was a shield-shaped logo of the Flying Team of the African Army Command.

"The contact has been interrupted for twenty-six hours. The above must be mobilizing troops to conduct a search. They must let them know that we are all alive." The observer half of his body drilled into the cabin that was leaning into the sand dunes, trying to debug the radio transmitter in the rear cabin.

"If we continue to stay here, we can't survive." Lehard stuffed the canvas into his soft combat hat and added a sunshade to himself.

"Our current location is at least ten kilometers south of the scheduled route." Lehard sat down in the shadow under his fuselage and looked at the aviation map spread on the sand.

"The airborne compass is still working, I also brought an extra compass." Lehard adjusted the orientation of the map.

"If I guess it's right, we'll go in that direction, fifteen kilometers away. If we can find freshwater supplies there, we should be able to stick to the search team to find us." The Air Force lieutenant pointed at a small dot on the map.

"I don't think this is a good idea. We should stay near the plane." The observer gave up his efforts to resume radio contact, and as the pilot said, this thing was completely finished.

"Then let the savage Arabs catch you? They will peel your skin alive." Lehard scared his comrades.

"Are there Arabs nearby?" Sergeant Corrison subconsciously held the gun holster at his waist.

"Who knows, they wandered around the desert, maybe behind the dune, there were a bunch of pointed tents filled with alive Arabs."

"They are still alive and cannibalizing?!" The chief sergeant widened his eyes in horror. He had never heard of such a thing.

"They also like to strip the captured prisoners naked and then pierce on a pointed wooden stake standing on the sand. Let the prisoners wail in pain in the scorching sun. It often takes two or three days to die." The pilot continued to intimidate the sergeant commander while sorting out his debris bag.

"I remember hearing about this kind of thing. In the medieval Transwara, it was a place called a similar name. I didn't expect that there were still people who were using such a savage punishment on prisoners, which seriously violated the Geneva Convention."

"Transylvania." The pilot shook the spare kettle, and he usually put one or two in the cabin to use it in an accident.

"What did you say?" asked the sergeant.

"The name of the place you mentioned is Transylvania. Also, the Arabs have never signed the Geneva Convention at all."

"Did they not sign?"

"No sign." The pilot nodded affirmatively.

"It's really a ghost." The sergeant kicked the sand pile hard.

"Okay, stop complaining, carry your backpack, we are ready to set off. Today we have a long way to go." The pilot checked the Mauser pistol holster on his waist and lifted up the military shoulder bag containing emergency food.

=

"Have you contacted me yet?" Captain Folk squatted in the shadow of the dunes, asking the correspondents who were debugging the radio.

"Everything received was full of noise." The correspondent shook his head and said.

"Sir, I suggest we should return to the landing place." A second lieutenant suggested to Fok.

"No, Lieutenant Hull, we must now move forward to reach Hamil Springs on the map, and where to replenish clean water. Even if we return to the landing site, we may not be able to cross the Hanzhi Mountains." Captain Folk stuffed a spoonful of corned beef into his mouth, and then passed the can to a paratrooper on his left hand.

Although there are only half a paratrooper platoon here, each of them is the elite of the Army Paratroopers. They have received special operations training in desert areas in Egypt and know how to survive and fight in this environment. Otherwise, the British Command would not send them to complete this task. This operation involves not only the ally relationship between the British and German armies, but also the intention to rebuild the British Army's honor. However, now it seems that the above plans are likely to be disappointed.

"We have sufficient supplies, and the most important thing now is to find a replenished water source. If the guide did not point the wrong direction, we will reach the ancient spring in three hours. Then from there, 50 kilometers east of Zhubai, a village built around an oasis, where we can get supplies and find ways to contact our superiors." The captain removed the kettle from his waist, unscrewed the lid and took a small sip of fresh water.

"What about the mission of searching for the Germans? Sir." asked the correspondent soldier.

"If the position given above is correct, they should have fallen nearby. We will search on the way to the oasis. Now the first thing I have to consider is the safety of my subordinates. Only after this premise is guaranteed can the established order be executed." Folk tightened the lid and stuffed the kettle back to his waist.

"Now we are almost resting. We are going to reach that water source before noon. Everyone is cheering up and set off!" The captain stood up and carried his Thomson on his back.

"Tank! Go forward!" Lieutenant Sparu waved his arm forward handsomely, and the tank engine let out a deafening roar.

The 38t tank is an armored vehicle with excellent performance, but it is not very suitable for combat in desert areas. During the long-distance marching, the 38t engine cooling system has been severely tested. It was not designed for tropical combat, and the average maximum temperature in the Czech summer did not exceed twenty-five degrees.

The German tank soldiers should be glad that it is a cool winter now, with an average temperature of around 26 or 7 degrees. If it were the hottest summer, they would probably be roasted in these iron cans.

Because the armored company left the desert highway, it means that they will no longer be able to obtain logistics supplies for a short time. In order to save valuable cooling water, the tanks must stop and rest every once in a while.

Two platoons of motorized infantry were also operating with the second company. Each gap was filled with various ammunition and supplies on the half-track personnel carrier they were riding.

The battlefield supply squad of the Second Armored Company is equipped with three off-road trucks. The carriages are now filled with wooden boxes and iron barrels of large and small sizes, namely spare parts, fuel, fresh water and engine lubricating oil.

The tank itself has a strong load capacity. In order to carry more supplies, the German tankers used almost every plane that could stack supplies. Even two ammunition boxes were stacked on the top of the turret, which looked like a long-distance bus.

Don’t think that they carry a lot of supplies. After the two companies of officers and soldiers and vehicles are consumed, this little thing is only enough to support the three-day combat operation of this armored force. This is the true face of modern warfare. The story of mechanized troops abandoning their baggage and fighting independently only exists in the novelist’s imagination.

"From the map, we are now seventy kilometers away from our destination." Sergeant Rem sat on the communication seat, holding a military map in his hand. In order to dissipate heat and ventilate, the Sergeant opened the entrance and exit cover above his head.

"They will airdrop a batch of supplies for us in this place called Hamil Well." Sparu untied the kettle on the tank bulkhead, raised his head and took a big sip of water.

"So we must arrive at the destination on time and clear out an airdrop area as soon as possible. It should be noted that we may encounter nomadic cavalry there, which is an ancient desert water source, which will definitely attract many Arabs to supply fresh water." Sparu twisted the lid and hung the kettle back to the bulkhead.

"Don't worry, sir, we will wipe out them out whether it is a hundred or a thousand Arab cavalry. It's just a matter of time." Driver Heinz inserted into the conversation.

"You're right, Heinz, it's just a matter of time." Spalu flipped down the pedal and poked half of his body out of the turret. He observed the marching team forward and backward, and then waved his arms forward with satisfaction.

"Tank! Keep going!"
Chapter completed!