Chapter 572: The Grand Meal
In the end, the name of the Führer’s son was finally decided. From the dozen or so names selected by August, Akado chose “Caesar.” And so, everyone was overjoyed and very satisfied with this name. And the people who supported Akado’s ascension to the throne of the German Emperor also seemed to hear a certain subtext in the infant’s name.
Caesar. First of all, this was a great man of the past, embodying Akado’s earnest hopes for his child. Secondly, the word itself means “successor,” so everyone had already understood the meaning behind the name Akado had chosen.
Liu Bei had named his sons Liu Feng and Liu Shan. The two names together sound like “fengshan,” the imperial ritual of offering sacrifices to heaven and earth. So in many cases, things that are inconvenient to say out loud can be expressed through the auspicious name given to a child. For example, if you are too embarrassed to usurp the throne, you can name your child “Dengji” (ascend the throne). If you really can’t afford a house, you can name your child “Baiwan” (million)…
And so, our little Caesar, after bearing the earnest hopes of countless people, became the Grand Duke of the Iron Cross at not yet one year old, the tacitly acknowledged successor to the supreme leader of Germany.
While the high command of Germany was preparing for a power struggle around Caesar Rudolph, on the distant battlefields of North Africa, a real struggle had already begun. Dive bombers, one after another, plunged from the clouds, dropping one heavy bomb after another on the British defensive positions with a roar.
Huge columns of smoke rose into the air. The tracer rounds from the anti-aircraft guns, even in the daytime, drew bright straight lines as they flew into the sky. But accompanying the German bombers were also the sky-covering artillery fire of the “Friedrich” rocket launchers and the continuous suppression of the Italian army’s large-caliber howitzers.
The entire British position was a sea of fire. It seemed the German army had no intention of saving any ammunition for a later attack. They were completely venting their anger, as if they were in a mood to fire off all the shells they had in the shortest possible time.
One shell after another was pushed into the breech of the cannons. One gun after another let out its roar at the shouts of the artillerymen. One warhead after another was squeezed out of the barrel by the propellant charge and then tore through the air with a shrill howl until it hit its target.
This was followed by sand and dirt being thrown up by the massive blast wave. The soldiers cowered in the huge explosions, crying and shouting, until the sound of the explosions had moved away from them. But unfortunately, before one round of shelling had truly passed, the second round was already exploding beside them.
While the British soldiers were enduring the endless artillery attack, more of the German Air Force’s dive bombers appeared above them. These planes indiscriminately poured out their ammunition, frantically attacking every moving target they could see on the ground.
Under the cover of their superior artillery and air power, the German army began to eat away at the defensive positions that the British had set up on the outskirts of Tobruk, bit by bit. The majority of the German forces did not adopt the proper tactic of a single-point breakthrough, but instead used small-scale, two-dimensional attacks, coordinating with special forces, the air force, and artillery to clear out the peripheral British strongpoints.
This new type of tactic had already begun to be popularized on the Eastern Front. Many special operations teams had played a decisive role in defending against the attacks of the Soviet forces. Many times, the Red Army had suffered heavy losses without even touching the main German defensive line. And this time, Rommel had applied special warfare tactics to the offensive, and it had also achieved an eye-opening effect.
From time to time, the arm or leg of a British soldier would be torn off by a bomb and then fly with the violent airflow to an open space a dozen meters away. The British soldiers were crying out helplessly, and the wounded were begging the medics for help over and over again. To deepen the suffering of these British defenders, the German army even used napalm bombs. A raging fire broke out, mercilessly roasting this fortress, which was already covered in yellow sand.
The entire Tobruk was now a living hell. Every bunker and trench that had been scouted during the Italian army’s attack was now being given special attention by the artillery. The British defenders inside suffered heavy losses. Even some of the sections that had been reinforced with concrete were destroyed by the shells, and not a single person inside was spared.
Montgomery, of course, was not in Tobruk. When the German offensive began, he was still in Cairo, attending a reception hosted by a local dignitary. Many Britons were sullen about the fall of their homeland. Most of the merchants, having suffered heavy losses, could only stay in Egypt.
If, six months ago, someone had told these merchants that the German Navy would defeat the British Navy, it would have made everyone laugh their heads off. But now, no one could laugh, because the Royal Navy had indeed been beaten soundly by the German High Seas Fleet, and they had even lost their homeland to an opponent who had once been extremely weak.
“General Montgomery, we have already lost our homeland to the Germans. But Egypt, at least it is still safe here, right?” a merchant in a white suit asked, holding a wine glass, to the pensive Montgomery. Montgomery, in fact, had just been discussing the North African situation with Patton, who was resting his troops nearby.
“Of course, sir. At least it is very safe here. It is impossible for the German fleet to appear in the nearby waters. As long as we are here, they cannot be foolish enough to want to pass through the Suez Canal, right?” Montgomery said, raising his wine glass. He had come here to appease these British merchants. The British Royal Family on Iceland could now only rely on these British merchants scattered around the world. The supplies they had were slowly being gathered in some of the British-controlled areas. This was the capital for a future counter-attack.
After seeing off the local British merchants who had come for reassurance, and having made an agreement with a few of the merchants’ representatives, or rather, their leaders, about the distribution of interests after the situation had stabilized, Montgomery rubbed his temples and walked back to Patton’s side.
Patton did not seem very interested in this reception. He took a drag from his cigar, blew out a cloud of smoke, and sneered, “It seems my situation is a bit better. At least as a general, I don’t have to deal with these merchants whose heads are full of deceit.”
“The battle for Tobruk has already begun. I received the news on my way here. It seems that fellow Rommel has received a large shipment of munitions. His resources are much greater than mine now,” Montgomery said with a sigh. He was not good at discussing the situation with merchants either. He would rather analyze the battlefield situation around Tobruk with Patton.
Patton helplessly toyed with the cigar in his hand, then said with great frustration, “I suggested long ago that we strengthen the garrison on Malta, but you just couldn’t spare ten thousand men to reinforce the defenders there. Now that Malta has fallen, the Mediterranean is almost the Italians’. Of course their supplies will increase.”
Montgomery felt even more aggrieved. He sighed again. “Sigh… you think I didn’t want to strengthen the garrison on Malta? At that time, we couldn’t even spare a single regiment. Even now, I’m still trying to figure out if there’s a chance to retake Malta, but it seems that hope is not great now.”
“Let’s talk about Tobruk… After all, Malta has already been lost, and it’s not realistic to retake it,” Patton said. He also felt that the loss of Malta had little to do with Montgomery. At that time, the British side was in chaos. They had lost their homeland; who would care about a small island?
“The Germans are attacking on three sides, with no intention of holding back. The outer positions have already been reduced to a pile of ruins. Rommel’s tank units have not yet been committed on a large scale, but it is expected that Tobruk will be in a difficult situation in the short term,” Montgomery briefly introduced the situation on the battlefield.
Patton also frowned after hearing this. His Anglo-American Eighth Army had now finished its rest and refit, but even if they were to start for Tobruk now, they would not be able to launch an offensive against the German army before the fortress was reduced to a ruin.
“How long can they hold out?” Finally, clutching his cigar, Patton asked.
“Ten days. Twenty at most,” Montgomery said frankly. “The Indian troops are no match for the Australians.”
“You hold out for twelve days, and I can get to the battlefield and launch a counter-attack in the area east of Tobruk to drive off Rommel’s forces,” Patton said, as if he had made up his mind.
“Twelve days? Good! I will have the garrison fight to the death and try to buy you thirteen days!” Montgomery was overjoyed and quickly gave Patton his own guarantee.
“On June 21st, we will launch the counter-attack for Tobruk and drive Rommel’s forces back to Tunisia!” Patton said fiercely.
An explosion came from the distance. On the front lines of Tobruk, in a deep trench, Rommel’s eyes moved away from the scissor-type periscope. He smiled and pointed to the map, saying to the officers around him, “In the morning, we broke through here and here, cutting a circular breach in the British positions and securing a very good observation post! Now, it’s time for our real trump card to make its appearance. I, for one, am very much looking forward to this attack.”
On the sea not far away, the main guns of four Italian battleships and one Vichy French battleship began to turn at the same time. After their cooperation in the British waters and the South Atlantic, the tacit understanding between the two navies had improved to a certain extent.
At the command, the dozens of large-caliber cannons of the navy let out a deafening roar at sea. The blast wave from the huge muzzles blew circles of ripples on the calm surface of the Mediterranean. And what followed the whistling sound was the heart-stopping, large-caliber naval shells.
Boom! The huge vibration enveloped the entire Tobruk in fear. Only now did the British know that the dense shelling and bombing of today had been just a small appetizer. The real, luxurious artillery feast had only just begun.
Published: 2025-09-07T03:20:16.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-01-02T16:41:50.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c572-grand-138319212
Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com