Chapter 485: End of the Road
The moment Rundstedt woke from his sleep, the sky was just beginning to turn a dim gray. Before the German general had even washed his face or brushed his teeth, he heard a piece of good news. The British defenders, in an attempt to retake the positions they had lost in the south of the city, had launched a frenzied counter-attack against the German garrison.
This was undoubtedly good news. In urban warfare, the force that holds its ground always suffers fewer casualties. He pushed open the window of his command post, took the documents his staff officer handed him, and began to read them carefully. The details made him even more excited.
In many areas, the British soldiers had launched a fight-to-the-death counter-attack. These soldiers had no bullets in their rifles. The German army had repulsed these attacks with ease. In just one hour, such a counter-attack had allowed the German army to annihilate at least 3,000 British soldiers. However, it was clear that these troops without ammunition were not the main force of the British garrison.
“The surrender of the British 29th Garrison Division did not actually have a major impact on the British defensive strength. It’s just that their sector was a relatively safe area of London… so much so that the British defenders had hidden a lot of their ammunition reserves in this area,” Rundstedt had discovered this key point the previous night while taking inventory of the surrendered British supplies.
This was the main reason for the collapse of the British defenders. Without food, the troops could still hold on for a few more days. But without ammunition, it was clear that the force lacked the most basic combat capability. That was why the British had counter-attacked to the south at all costs, and why they had pushed the troops without ammunition forward to launch the attack.
“Have a few of the special operations teams specializing in urban warfare slowly enter these areas and clean them up. Our troops will attack forward here and here to coordinate with their actions. See if the special operations teams can find Churchill in these few suspected areas,” Rundstedt thought, pointing to several marked locations on the map and speaking to his operations staff officer.
“Yes, sir!” the staff officer immediately nodded, then turned and walked out.
At that moment, Churchill also walked out of his office, passed the secretary’s room, crossed the corridor, and, step by step, climbed the stairs, emerging from his underground air-raid shelter. He didn’t know why he suddenly wanted to go for a walk. Perhaps it was because it seemed he hadn’t breathed the surface air for three days.
He walked out of the deep air-raid shelter. The soldiers on both sides, who had collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and were sound asleep, did not notice their superior officer walking past them. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance of the bunker that Churchill saw two soldiers on sentry duty.
“Prime Minister!” The two soldiers, seeing Churchill emerge, stood at attention and greeted him softly.
“Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done for Britain,” Churchill said, looking at the two young soldiers and suddenly feeling a pang of sadness. “If you don’t mind, would you accompany me for a walk up top?”
The two men quickly woke up a few of the soldiers around them. After leaving men to stand guard, the rest of them accompanied Churchill towards the tube station. Because the generator was working, the lights near the bunker were still on, but by the time they reached the vicinity of the station, their surroundings had become extremely dim.
A few miners’ lamps glowed listlessly, illuminating the desperate faces around them. The civilians were crowded together, looking in terror as their Prime Minister walked past them.
“Mr. Churchill,” a little girl holding a rag doll said, standing timidly by Churchill’s leg and looking up at him. “When will the war end?”
Churchill was taken aback for a moment, then he bent down, stroked the little girl’s head, and forced a smile. He replied to her in a soft voice, “It will end soon. The disaster will soon pass. God will bless you all.”
He straightened up and watched the little girl run back to her mother’s side. Then he continued to walk forward, to the area where the wounded were being kept.
Compared to the refugee area, this place was much more lively. Many of the wounded were groaning even in their sleep. Not far away, two doctors were amputating a wounded man’s limb. Yesterday’s battle had cost the British defenders a heavy price, so their work was now particularly busy.
Amidst one scream after another, a doctor with a surgical mask was sawing back and forth on a wounded man’s arm. And at his feet were piled the shoes, feet, and arms of God knows who. Of course, by the deep railway tracks to the side, there were even more of these severed limbs, and there were also piles of the stinking bodies of the dead.
Churchill watched as a young man whose arm had been sawn off died on the operating table because he could not be saved in time. He watched as the two doctors directed the soldiers who were helping them to throw the still-warm body into the deep pit of the tube tracks.
He said nothing. He walked, with his hands behind his back, towards the staircase next to the tube station that led to the surface. He walked up, step by step. When he had completely emerged from the tube exit, which was covered with a camouflage net, he suddenly felt much more relaxed.
Last night, the British defenders and German soldiers had fought fiercely over a building 50 meters away. The result was that after sacrificing more than 70 soldiers, the British had held their position.
Churchill glanced at the building in the distance. When he had looked at it on the map last night, it had seemed very close. Now, looking at it with his own eyes, it seemed very far away.
Accompanied by a few soldiers, he walked to a 140mm howitzer that was emplaced next to the tube entrance. He looked at the empty ammunition boxes scattered on the ground, and at the artillerymen and infantrymen who were sleeping on the ground, their heads resting on the boxes. They were so exhausted that the arrival of several men did not even make them open their eyes.
In the distance, down the visible street, was parked an American M3 Lee tank. This tank was one of the few heavy weapons the British had left. It had repulsed some German infantry attacks yesterday, and today, fearing it would be destroyed, it had been pulled back to the intersection to defend. The tank’s turret was covered with a canvas, camouflaged as a pile of rubble to avoid being spotted and destroyed by German aircraft.
“The war should have ended long ago,” Churchill said, looking at the crimson bloodstains on a destroyed anti-aircraft gun. He reached out and touched it, found that the blood had already dried and did not stain his fingers, and sighed. “This damned war really should have ended long ago!”
“Prime Minister!” a sergeant who was following behind him came forward and said in a low voice, “We should go back to the basement. The Germans could start shelling here at any time. The soldiers here are your loyal followers. They are willing to die here for the British Empire. So you can rest assured, we will fight to the last moment.”
“Chamberlain was right. We must leave some of the lifeblood for Britain. There is a famous saying, ‘Only those who are prepared to die are qualified to live.’ I now feel that this saying is right. We should let the people who are willing to die for the British Empire live,” Churchill murmured. He patted the sergeant’s shoulder and said another sentence that instantly stunned the man. “You must live too!”
By the time the sergeant reacted, Churchill was already walking back. He carefully stepped around the soldiers sleeping on the ground and walked back to the entrance of the tube station. There, a sign for the air-raid shelter hung, swaying slightly back and forth in the gentle breeze.
A storm-tossed empire, Churchill thought, looking at the swaying sign. The British King was in Iceland, reorganizing his cabinet, declaring that he recognized neither the Chamberlain government nor the Churchill government, and claiming that he would lead the army to fight his way back to England. Whether he would really fight his way back, Churchill couldn’t say. But the fact that he had set up his own separate camp was already a foregone conclusion.
Chamberlain had established a British government in the northern mountains. This government was similar to the Vichy regime in France, both having been established with German support. Although it had the taint of treason, it did indeed have the support of a portion of the British public who longed for an end to the war. After all, as long as the British flag still flew, a truce was a very attractive option.
I am tired. You can continue to fight amongst yourselves, Churchill thought, shaking his head helplessly. He lifted his foot and walked down the steps, one by one, towards the slightly dim entrance of the tube. Just as he was about to enter the darkness, he suddenly stopped, and with difficulty, he raised his head and looked at London’s gray sky. In the depths of his mind, he had a premonition that he might never see the London sky again.
After this one last look, he did not linger. He walked straight down the stairs, past the field hospital, past the refugees. Churchill no longer dared to look at these sights, because he was afraid of forgetting the once vast and incomparable, powerful and unparalleled empire. He was afraid of remembering the fact that this empire had collapsed in his own hands.
When he stood at the entrance to the deep air-raid shelter, the soldiers who had been sleeping there were all awake. They were leaning against the walls, sitting on the stairs in groups of three or five. When they saw Churchill return, some of the soldiers stood up and came to attention. Some did not even move. When a man can face death calmly, the title of “former Prime Minister” is not enough to make him tremble with fear.
“It is now 7:00 AM, gentlemen. You only need to hold out until 5:00 PM. Then you will have completed your mission,” Churchill said, looking at his men. “At 5:00 PM this afternoon, I will give the order to cease resistance. All areas under my command will surrender to the Germans.”
No one could believe their ears. They stood there quietly, looking at this former Prime Minister who had once been so unyielding, who had declared he would never surrender. Suddenly, someone began to weep, their sobs echoing in the silent environment.
“Gentlemen! Think of our compatriots on Iceland, think of our compatriots in the mountains of northern Britain! Our efforts have not been in vain, and will never be in vain!” Churchill said with a smile. “I have a premonition that the Germans will not win this war!”
Published: 2025-08-29T02:36:11.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-26T11:32:31.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c485-end-of-137600845
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