CHAPTER 413: REVISED: CHAPTER 413 AMMUNITION DEPOT

This certainly wasn’t Shire’s luck; Shire never relied on luck to win.

He learned from the "Lady in White" that this was a hastily assembled unit with a chaotic structure, and most of its members would be divided into teams to supplement the front line once their training was completed.

This laid the groundwork for fishing in troubled waters.

So, Shire ordered the "Lady in White" to forge IDs and military uniforms.

The IDs detailed family addresses and background information, all of which were real. Except, these "German soldiers" had died in the First Battle of Combray, with their unit numbers reassigned to a unit stationed in Brussels.

This team was led by a guerrilla squad leader named Lukaku. Before becoming a guerrilla, he was a lieutenant in the Belgian Army, commanding a fortress gun at the Liege Fortress.

The fortress gun under Lukaku’s command was ultimately destroyed by the "Big Bertha" brought in by the German Army.

That battle was etched deeply into Lukaku’s mind. When he talked about it with his comrades around the campfire, his eyes revealed deep-seated fear:

"What’s most frightening isn’t death, but waiting for death."

"We stayed in the pitch-black fortress. Our artillery couldn’t reach the enemy, but the enemy’s could."

"We could only watch helplessly as they aimed at us, shot after shot, finally hitting..."

Over thirty of his platoon were buried in the collapsed fortress. A few days later, their bodies were dug out, and Lukaku miraculously survived, becoming the sole survivor of that fortress.

Lukaku scoffed at himself: "The good thing is, from that day forward, nothing scares me, because nothing can be more terrifying than that experience!"

But this time, as he waited with twenty of his men in the janitor’s room of a textile factory, wearing German uniforms, he still felt waves of fear from the depths of his heart.

Lukaku’s palms were sweating from nerves.

He wasn’t worried about his own life, but the heavy responsibility on his shoulders: if they couldn’t destroy the ammunition depot, the German Army would block Shire’s move through Brussels.

What would happen then?

Brussels wouldn’t be liberated, the German Army wouldn’t be encircled, and Shire’s forces could even be counter-encircled here.

The consequences would be unimaginable!

At that moment, a bell hanging on the wall rang. It was a signal from the intelligence personnel, indicating it was time to move out.

Lukaku didn’t hesitate and led his men out of the storeroom single-file. They glanced cautiously from side to side, then walked toward the ammunition depot, rifles on their backs as if nothing was amiss.

A German lieutenant stood in their way. He flipped through Lukaku’s papers and asked a few questions. Finding nothing suspicious, he waved them in.

Just as Lukaku was about to proceed, the lieutenant called him back: "You plan to go in just like that?"

The lieutenant gestured towards the rifles on their shoulders with a tilt of his head.

Lukaku immediately realized they had to disarm.

He glanced around quickly, analyzing the situation at lightning speed:

They were fifty meters from the ammunition depot. There were over thirty German guards and machine guns. The depot was in an underground warehouse; if they attacked now, they’d likely be wiped out before reaching the warehouse door.

Without further thought, Lukaku responded, "Yes, sir." While unstrapping his rifle, he signaled to his men with his eyes. They exchanged perplexed looks but followed suit, placing their rifles on a nearby rack one by one.

The German lieutenant didn’t suspect anything; he just watched their retreating backs, grumbling, "These new recruits know nothing!"

The guerrilla fighters were a bit panicked — what would they do without guns?

But Lukaku calmly led them onward. Reaching the warehouse entrance, he handed over a supply order to the warehouse keeper, saying, "We’ve been ordered to collect ammunition. Colonel Leo wants to conduct grenade training first; you know, we’ve heard the French are coming with tanks!"

The warehouse keeper grunted, glancing at the supply order: "You mean to collect grenades first?"

"Yes," Lukaku replied, "Our vehicle will arrive shortly."

The guerrilla fighters seemed to understand Lukaku’s intention: grenades didn’t need guns, they just required a pull of the pin to fight.

So, they all mentally prepared themselves.

As the crates of grenades were moved out of the warehouse, the guerrilla fighters pretended to inspect the ammunition boxes, then naturally unscrewed the safety covers one by one.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the warehouse keeper exclaimed, "This isn’t your training ground..."

Lukaku didn’t say much more; he pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it towards the German guards.

The warehouse keeper and the porters could only watch; none of them were armed, and a significant number were temporary personnel without formal military training. They were all stunned, watching as the fight broke out right in front of them.

"Boom, boom, boom"

The German guards were blown into a wailing mess by the explosions, but the survivors quickly organized a counterattack. The lieutenant blew his whistle in the smoke, and a squad of reinforcements rushed to support from the other side.

"What now?" a guerrilla fighter asked loudly after tossing a grenade. Without guns, they were still at a disadvantage; attacking the ammunition depot was nearly impossible with the strong German porters blocking the way.

"Cover me!" Lukaku shouted.

His comrades were puzzled — how could they cover him without guns?

But seeing Lukaku tying several grenades together with a rope, they understood his plan.

One by one, they hurled grenades almost without pause, and someone even grabbed a bundle of grenades and charged into the enemy’s hiding spots, forcing their counterattack back with sheer force.

Lukaku didn’t hesitate. Clutching the bundled grenades, he leaned against the warehouse door, pulled the pin on one, and threw it inside. After the explosion, he rushed in.

Instantly, the warehouse erupted in panic and cries, with some people frantically fleeing from inside.

...

Meanwhile, Major General Khalil was discussing defense strategies over a map of Brussels with his staff.

Aifuri suggested building the defense line on the streets: "Especially at traffic hubs, we can pile up sandbags there and construct several lines of defense within half an hour."

But Major General Khalil shook his head: "No, Colonel. The enemy comes with tanks. Such sandbag defenses are useless against tanks."

"Then what should we do?" Aifuri asked.

"Buildings," Major General Khalil pointed to the houses lining the streets: "Every building is our defense line."

Aifuri’s eyes showed some fear: "But General, won’t that draw the battle towards civilians?"

Major General Khalil was dismissive: "That’s not our concern."

At that moment, several grenade explosions suddenly sounded.

The two were startled and instinctively looked in the direction of the noise.

"Training?" Major General Khalil said.

Aifuri heard the gunshots and the whistle blasts, his face turning pale instantly: "No, General, it’s coming from the direction of the ammunition depot!"