In winter, the temperature in the Arabian Peninsula remains between 15 and 27 degrees, with a large temperature difference between morning and evening, with noon being the hottest time of the day. This is a lucky season for desert travelers, who do not have to worry about the risk of heat stroke, and the large amount of water saved allows them to spend more time in the desert.

"We're supposed to be in this area, hell the hell, these damn dunes all look exactly the same." Ensign Krieg crouched on his knees in the sand, holding a compass in his hand and looking for the right direction.

"Be careful to conserve fresh water." Horn handed the kettle to the Grey Swords beside him.

"Understood, sir." Sergeant Graeme Rock took the kettle and unscrewed the bakelite lid. In this air crash, the Gray Sword team lost two members, Scott and Corporal Weil, and for this special operations team with only twenty members, the loss of one-tenth of the personnel could not be considered serious.

"There isn't even a landmark here, the sandstorm must have blown us off our intended course, Lieutenant Colonel Randolph was right, and the search would have been carried out along the original route, otherwise they would never have found us." Ensign Krieger tucked the compass into the holster around his waist.

Major Jürgen stood in a naturally formed sand pit, rolled the cuffs of his white shirt up to his elbows, and then the SS Major crouched down, dug a few times into the pit wall, and then grabbed a handful of sand and wiped his hands.

"It's all dry." Holding a handful of dry sand, Jürgen looked up at Horn and said.

"This pit is not deep enough, Major, at least dig four or five meters below." Captain Horn reached out and helped Jürgen out of the bunker.

"Hey!" Not far away, on top of a sand dune, an SS soldier waved his hands vigorously.

"Sir! There are mountains in that direction! The soldier shouted as he pointed behind him.

"There are mountains? Are you sure? Randolph asked aloud.

"You can see it clearly from above, it's a mountain range." The soldier replied loudly.

"You just stand there and don't move!" Krieg grabbed the map on the ground and ran towards the dunes.

"Does the map show that there are mountains nearby?" Jürgen reached out and dusted the sand off his knee.

"There are some very old rocky mountains, and it is said that the treasures of desert robbers are buried in the mountains." Horn replied in a serious way.

"Aladdin's magic lamp? Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves? Jürgen couldn't help but laugh.

"It was a rocky peak that 'outcropped' out of the surface, not a continuous mountain range. The Hejaz Mountains should be in that direction. Krieger pointed to West to Randolph.

"But we can finally figure out where we are, and it should be Mount Omus Nieman, and we can see that we are at least twenty kilometers from it." Krieger pulled out a pencil from his map bag and drew a 'cross' on the map.

"We were lucky not to go in the wrong direction, and if I'm right, five or six kilometres further northeast is the oasis we're looking for." Krieger said happily.

"Then what are you waiting for, everyone, the oasis is in front of us, everyone immediately clean up, we will go out immediately **** Michio was also happy after hearing this, he turned around and shouted loudly to the people who were resting by the sand dunes.

=

"Lehad, what do the Arabs call this?" Crescent scoops out the last spoonful of ground beef 'meat' from a can of corned beef 'meat'.

"Well, it's called canned corned beef 'meat'." Lehard lifted the strap on his shoulder, turned to his partner and said, "Who do you think I am?" Arabic expert? ”

"I'm just asking, don't you know those Arabs very well." Corrison swallowed the beef 'meat' in his mouth and tossed the empty canning box to the side of the road, and the sergeant major wiped the spoon on the cuffs of his uniform, and then tucked the precious spoon back into the glove bag behind his waist.

As luck would have it, the two pilots found an old trade route in the desert, not an artificially built artifact, but a natural road that had been trampled by humans and animals for many years.

Traces of desert caravans can be seen everywhere along the road and around, human and animal footprints and animal droppings, as well as artifacts abandoned on the roadside, such as broken clay pots and ruined camel harnesses. From time to time, you can see the pale bones of badly weathered sand in the sand by the roadside, both camels and unknown animals, and Lehard can be sure that there must be human remains in them.

The trade route looked like it hadn't been used for a few days, the footprints on it had been blurred, and animal droppings had dried into lumps, and Lehard judged that no one had left it for at least a few months.

"This road is not marked on the map, it should be the kind of secret 'smuggling' route they say." Lehard moved the holster in front of him and loosened the leather clasp of the flap. The abandonment of a road is not an accident, there must be a reason behind it, whether it is human or natural, it can pose a threat to two outsiders.

"If you go in this direction, the road should pass the well on the map." Corrison didn't notice anything unusual, and he held a map and said.

"How far do you think it's going?" Lehard asked his navigator.

"Five or six kilometers, maybe further." Crison folded the map and put it back in his map bag.

"We're on the right track." Captain Falk lowered his binoculars and jumped off the rock where he was standing.

"Henry, give me the map." Fakker stretched out his hand, and the adjutant hurriedly unfolded the map and handed it over.

"There's a rocky hill ahead, and the direction is 'consistent' on the map, and our location is here." Pointing to the map, Falk said, "We're still an hour away from Hamill Springs, let's rest a little longer, and we'll set off in twenty minutes." ”

After determining the exact location of the troops, Fokker finally let go of half of his heart, and as long as the troops' drinking water was guaranteed, he had the courage to face all challenges.

The paratroopers took one last rest, and the march in the desert consumed considerable physical strength, and the soldiers needed to replenish the lost water in time, as well as some heat and salt. As paratroopers who need to operate in the rear of enemy troops, they all know how to take care of themselves, and once they jump out of the cabin, the paratroopers can only trust their comrades and weapons in their hands.

The paratrooper was quite well-equipped, with non-commissioned officers and officers issued Thomson submachine guns in addition to the regular Lee Enfield short rifles. These civilian submachine guns purchased from the United States are actually more ferocious than the military version, and because they are made of real materials, they are much more expensive than the latter.

In the British Campaign, the German Army fully demonstrated the role of submachine guns in battle, and the British Army also began to prepare to increase the number of submachine guns in its troops to catch up with the 'tide' of the world's military equipment and technical and tactical development. Although the submachine guns produced in the United States have excellent 'performance', they are too expensive, and their caliber is special, and the ammunition and ammunition required can only be imported from abroad.

The British Army is currently considering purchasing a batch of MP38/40 submachine guns from the German Army, and at the same time introducing production lines to process and produce them in the United Kingdom, maybe in a few months, British paratroopers will be able to carry the MP40 submachine guns produced in Enfield.

"'Smoke' a cigarette, sir." The paratrooper lieutenant handed over the 'fine' cigarette case.

"Thank you, Second Lieutenant Hull." Fokker took a cigarette out of the cigarette case and looked at it to see that the trademark was American.

"Good luck? That's what we need right now. Falk took a lighter out of his pocket and lit a cigarette, and the paratrooper captain cocked his head and took a sharp inhale, then comfortably spat out a ball of smoke.

"It was brought from London by a friend." Second Lieutenant Hull lit his cigarette and put the cigarette case in his chest pocket.

"How's it going over there in London?" Falk asked, smoking a cigarette.

"The market has returned to its pre-war boom, at least on the surface. The shops are more abundant and there is no shortage of food. It's still not easy, but it's much better than it was three months ago. The Army is still conscripting, and the Labour Party says it's a political means of reducing unemployment, which seems to me complete nonsense. Now that the whole of Europe is intensifying its preparations for war, we may well have to fight the Russians. "Ensign Hull is a well-informed man, and he always gets his hands on a lot of gossip.

"If war does break out, the British Empire will definitely go to war. It's funny, if someone had said to me half a year ago, Fokker, one day you would fight alongside the Germans, I would have flattened that guy in the face with one punch. Fakker shook his head and laughed.

ps: I'm not feeling well, I only have one chapter today, thank you for your support.