In the evening, a gentle breeze from the south dissipates the heat from the concrete runway. Air Force logistics personnel and pilots who have partially completed their day duties set up deck chairs and small tables on the lawn by the runway, and they enjoy a rare moment of tranquility on the battlefield while watching the beautiful scenery of the sunset.

The pilots drank British beer captured from the RAF Officers' Club, munched on German-style pork knuckle cooked in their own field kitchen, and the fat pork leg was stewed until half-cooked and then grilled in the oven.

The ground crew, who were also on duty at night, could only drink some Coke and soda, but their meals were the same as those of the pilots, each with a mouthful full of pork bones. Because on the front line of the field, all kinds of supplies are openly supplied, and the battle is decided, these soldiers who do not hesitate to sacrifice blood and sweat for victory should be rewarded and rewarded.

It was a little regrettable for the Germans that they could not taste the local flavors for the time being, because the British army was short of food, and the food warehouse was only a pile of wheat flour, canned cured meat, and spoiling potatoes.

"Hey? Look, it looks like a big guy is coming. A pilot elbowed his companion next to him. From the direction of the office area on the side of the airport, a convoy of high-end cars, two three-wheeled motorcycles in front, followed by several military trucks, the carport is tightly covered, I don't know what it contains.

"It seems, maybe it's a general at the top of the group army, do you still have beer here?" The companion lazily looked up and felt that there was nothing to make a fuss about.

"It's getting dark, there are a lot of bugs here, you better eat it quickly, and go to the club to drink it later."

The convoy slowly crossed the taxiway, running over the flat lawn between the runways, on which were parked the trucks of the regimental logistics battalion, dozens of three-ton military trucks neatly arranged in a phalanx.

Biggin Hill Air Base is temporarily used by the Army and Air Force. This was agreed upon by the High Command, and the Air Force was unusually cooperative on this issue, and Milch did not chirp and express his displeasure as before, and most people felt that it had something to do with the identity of this army unit, because it was the Cyblas Three-Headed Dog, the Führer's direct legion.

"The time is almost up, General." Mueller's adjutant reminded from the sidelines.

"Are you ready?" Mueller opened the car door and stepped out of his Mercedes car, and the adjutant stepped forward to help him smooth the wrinkles in his military uniform and tidy up his military appearance.

"It's all ready according to your wishes, and the logistics department has already sorted out the headquarters banquet hall. We found several famous British chefs, some of whom had previously served the British royal family. Lieutenant Heinche reported.

"Is it reliable?"

"No problem, these people are happy with the pay, and our people will supervise them from start to finish. These are just cooks who don't risk their lives. Look, General, the plane is already coming. The adjutant pointed to the eastern sky.

I saw that in the gray night sky before nightfall, a large passenger plane was slowly approaching. The altitude of the plane has been reduced to five or six hundred meters, and the dazzling red and green navigation lights on the wingtips of the two wings can be clearly seen on the ground.

The Air Force pilots had finished their dinner by this time. They were not interested in the visiting bigwigs, and they stepped across the lawn with their cutlery in twos and threes, preparing to go back to the barracks to find a place to wash, when they heard the sound of engines in the air. Many people are in the habit of turning their heads and looking for a shadow in the sky.

"It looks like an FW200." Said one of the pilots.

"The engine doesn't sound like it, is it a new model?"

Some people stopped, they were interested in the plane. The side lights of the runway were turned on, illuminating the sky over the airport. The plane circled the airfield, flaunting the logo under the wings.

"It's the base camp eagle emblem! It's the Führer's plane! A sharp-eyed pilot exclaimed.

Regarding the identification of high-level special aircraft of the German army, German fighter pilots also gave special lessons for this. At this time, the identification system was still in its infancy, and it could only display the identity of its own aircraft on the ground radar, and the only way to distinguish friend or foe in the air was still to rely on the pilot's naked eye. As aircraft designers from various countries are learning from each other, there are many designs with similar appearances, and when they encounter a poor visual environment, they often lose their eyes, and the oolong that kills their own friendly troops often happens in war.

After a week around the field, the special plane began to land slowly, and the six ME109 fighter jets serving as escorts continued to hover in the air. The Führer's pilot was very skilled, and he gently controlled the three wheels of the plane to land on the ground at the same time, and after the plane smoothly taxied on the runway for some distance, it came to a steady stop in front of the convoy.

The rear cabin door opened, and two ground crews rushed forward to help the flight attendants lower the folding gangway next to the cabin. The headlights of the cars and trucks lit up the runway, and in the expectant gaze of everyone, Werler appeared at the door, looked out for a moment, and then carefully stepped up the steps of the gangway.

"Welcome to the United Kingdom, Your Excellency Chief of Staff." Müller strode forward to greet the Führer's chief staff, the former chief of staff of the Legion.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mueller." Werler walked up to Müller and gave the Legion Commander a hug with a smile on his face.

"I saw your report in the High Command, you played very well, the Führer is satisfied, we are all proud of you." Wehrle patted Müller on the back, then shook the other man's hand and said with a smile.

"Thank you very much, and I feel extremely honored to be recognized by His Excellency the Führer." Mueller said loudly with his chest puffed up.

"Okay, don't come with me." Weirle smiled and let go of Müller's hand and turned his face to look at the welcoming motorcade.

"I'm sure you already know what I'm here for. Muller, there are some issues I would like to talk to you about separately, I brought the order of the Führer. Werler whispered to Müller.

"Understood, I have prepared a room for you in the senior officer's apartment at the base, and I have also arranged a welcome banquet, so please don't refuse. After all, Your Excellency represents the Führer and the High Command, and many people want to take this opportunity to get to know you. Mueller held out his left hand and made an inviting gesture.

"Then take me to my lodgings first, I need to wash up." Wehrle nodded, and followed Müller towards the convoy.

"According to reliable sources, the envoy of the German Führer will arrive in London tonight." Sir Harrison carefully lifted the curtains and looked out the window at the street.

The whole block has been blacked out, and it is said that someone has deliberately damaged the cables, and the spearhead is pointed at the criminal gang in the East End, who are trying to rob in the dark, but in Harrison's opinion, this is another alarmist nonsense, and now any London citizen does not have a weapon or two to defend himself, and trying to enter the robbery at this time is definitely risking his life.

At nightfall, much of London was plunged into darkness, which seemed to be a means of control by the Germans, who had purposefully cut off most of the residential circuits in order to keep citizens in their homes as much as possible and not to go out into the streets.

The night in London was not restless, with heavy gunfire heard from time to time throughout the city, and some civic groups and the military and police were still holding the barricades, because the British government had not issued a ceasefire order until now, and no one had come forward to ask the SDF and police to give up resistance. These loyal men were stubborn but also very strong, and like the martyrs of the Middle Ages, they were determined to fight to the last moment to defend the British Empire. They fought to the death against the Germans armed to the teeth with their old weapons, and every barricade breached meant that dozens of brave souls had ascended to heaven.

Harrison looked through the curtains at the city centre, where he lived on the top floor of a six-story apartment on the south side of Hyde Park, diagonally across from the Royal Academy of Music, and from the window of his room the towering spire of the Elizabeth Tower. Now the location of Whitehall Street is brightly lit, and a carnival is unfolding there, Westminster is the heart of the British Empire, carrying the glorious history of the empire, as well as countless documents and secrets, which may be a pile of worthless waste paper in the eyes of ordinary people, but in the eyes of people like them, there are countless riches and benefits.

"I advise you to hurry up and get out of the window, one of my servants was shot in this way and is still unconscious in the hospital." Lord Claude lit a new candle and attached it to the head of the candle that was almost finished.

"Don't look at it, Harrison, just wait for you, who's going to shuffle the cards." Dr. Severe pulled out a stack of bills from the inner pocket of his suit and placed it in his hand.

"How did our contact person respond? Did the Germans agree to our requests, and if they were not satisfied with anything, they could raise it, and everything could be negotiated and resolved. If we can broker an agreement, we can make appropriate concessions. Harrison walked back to the table, shuffling his playing cards and asking Scott as he asked.

"There has been no response yet, you know how difficult it is to reach the top of the German government, we have to be patient, gentlemen."

"The German army occupied the Bank of England in the afternoon, and my men were already in contact with their commander, who was said to be the German Cypriot Legion, a direct force of the German Führer, and could communicate directly with their Führer. I think we should be prepared to do both, and if Mr. Scott doesn't work there, we can have a backup plan. Lord Claude took a pocket watch from his pocket and placed it in front of him.

"I think it's better to be patient and wait and see, now whose turn is played?" Dr. Shalfer asked, holding a poker.

Ask for a monthly pass, ask for a recommendation ticket, any ticket, thank you for your support.

Thank you. (To be continued.) )