WW2(Old Version, Rewritten up!)

Chapter 4: In The Kriegsmarine

Night fell on the second of June as the transport plane flew at maximum altitudes. The Blackburn plane grew cold, but the inhabitants refused to let on. 

"Guys, your landing zone is approaching!" Devil's Ace yelled at the team.

Juels broke it down, "Okay, let's go over this one last time."

"I'm listening," John spoke.

"We jump the plane over some farmland fields, deploying our chutes at the last second to avoid detection. Now they aren't expecting this, so it should be an easy reconnaissance."

"What if we run into Jerrys?" John asked.

"Only shoot if you have to. Your suppressors should mask some sound, but a knife would be best." Juels replied calmly.

Oliver muttered, "Or don't get detected at all."

The pilot called out over the turbulent engine, "We are above target. When you are ready, jump."

"You know we haven't had much training before," Oliver informed Juels.

"Follow my lead!" He yelled out as he jumped.

Oliver followed, jumping into the void of pitch-black nothingness. The sky was only illuminated by the stars peeking through the cloud cover.

John sarcastically spoke to himself, "If I can see a dam thing," as he too jumped into the void.

The rush of the winds, and the fading sound of the once thunderous engine of the plane, all stabbed his gut with fear and dread. John's grip on his parachute lever grew slippery. He cursed profusely, swearing through his teeth as he strained for air. His heart pounded against his ribs which felt like they would crack open like a clump of spaghetti. It felt like days falling into the air, but eventually, he saw the dim surface of a field with a parachute popping up. Then a second, and finally, he pulled his chute.

His neck halted as his spine pulled back against his bones, his muscles. He eventually landed on the soft ground below, yet it felt like his legs were shattered into microscopic bits. He looked at Oliver, who gasped for breath. Juels casually walked over to them.

"We go now," He spoke as he walked off toward the German/Italian Naval base.

The two eventually got up and followed him after they checked their equipment. Their pistols and suppressors seemed unharmed, as did their knives, ropes, first aid kits, water canteens, and morphine.

They trekked throughout the night past fields and isolated houses. The 3 sneaked their way through more densely populated regions. Up and over fences and walls, slowly through alleyways but never the main or side roads. Eventually, they made their way to the Naval base. They rested on a hill close by, observing the movements of soldiers. The base was relatively new, and although operational, the trucks of building equipment resting in neatly organised rows hinted at incompletion.

Juels pulled out his binoculars and watched closely at the movement of soldiers around the base. He was looking for a blind spot. Metal fences and barbed wire offered an illusion of defence. A guard on a watch tower fell asleep in his chair, creating an opening.

"Alright, seems like that guard is fast asleep. I suggest we move now before he wakes up," Juels whispered.

"Then what? The whole base is swarming with Jerrys," John pressured.

"Not really. Most of the soldiers are young, inexperienced; a good portion of them are Italian. I wouldn't say that they are the veterans that invaded Belgium."

John whispered, "Good English."

"Thanks; I've been practising since we got back from Dunkirk."

They made their way down the hill dodging spotlights and the eyes of soldiers. They crouched behind a truck sitting on the side of the road. When they saw a couple of Germans walk past, they bolted to the fence, climbing it with speed, busting through the barbed wire with pain absorbed by adrenaline. Oliver and John cut their arms slightly but ignored the pain. They slowly made their way to the doors of the main building.

Juels tried to open them, but they refused to comply. Pulling out his lockpicking tools, he opened it with ease. He entered with his knife, ready to loge it in an enemy on the other side of the doors. But no one what there.

They quickly made their way through the corridor looking for the base commander's office. Up a case of stairs, past rooms and open lounges sparkled with resting oblivious soldiers. Until Juels spotted a small reception for two rooms on either side of the desk. The three hid behind a wall to avoid being spotted by the receptionist and a single German soldier.

"We need to go another way," Juels silently whispered.

They walked to the next room over; its floor was polished hardwood and fancy stonework built on the fireplace that was burned out. At the backend of the room was a set of windows leading onto the rooftop."

"Alright, we are going to go to the rooftop and sneak into the base commander's office," Juels whispered.

"What if he's there?" John asked.

"I kill him."

They snuck onto the rooftop and crouched their way to the office. After peeking in, Juels gave the all-clear. Opening the window carefully, they climbed in and began searching consciously of disturbing the layout of the room. The desk was so neatly organised and symmetrical, that the slightest movement of a pen would be noticed. They searched the draws silently, their view illuminated by a lightbulb and a lit fire.

"Can't find anything," John whispered.

"Me too, maybe they aren't going to that French base after all." Oliver agreed.

"No, it has to be here somewhere." Juels disagreed.

They heard footsteps approaching. Oliver and John drained their colour out. Their heartbeat dropped. Without a second thought, they climbed back out expecting Juels to be on their tail. But when they looked back, they saw him hiding behind the door. Oliver ushered him over but Juels didn't budge. John closed the window and ducked from the line of sight as the base commander entered.

Juels followed the commander as he walked into the room. Turning behind him as he shut the door, and once again as he walked to his desk. Matching his pace so that he got behind his chair undetected. He had an urging temptation to end the commander right then and there, but he feared that he might compromise the mission. So decided that he should live. The commander put his briefcase onto the table and pulled out papers. Setting the case on the floor, he started to work through them. One paper he left aside hooked Juels attention and anchored his eyes to it. It was in German, his second tongue.

Permission to seize the French ships eh? Juels thought as he read the paper signed by both the base commander and head of the Kriegsmarine, Großadmiral Karl Dönitz.

When the commander got out of his chair to grab some alcohol, Juels picked up the piece of paper and hid by the side of the desk. He awaited the perfect opportunity to get to the window and out of there.

"Eiswürfel würden dazu passen." The commander muttered as he got up to leave the room.

Juels took the event to sneak out of the window.

"Guess they are going to use the French base and ships after all," Juels spoke to Oliver.

"Let's get out of here," John said.

"Right, the way we came in. We have to head to the coast near where we landed. A small boat is there for us. You excited to row a couple of hundred miles?" Juels joking replied.

John replied, "My arms aren't that strong"

"Good thing a ship is going to pick us up once we are a couple of miles out."