Chapter 258: Crossing England
As they were speaking, a messenger jogged up to the captain and reported, "Sir, division headquarters orders us to launch the missiles at the predetermined coordinates immediately."
The captain's expression turned serious at once.
"Notify the technical engineers. Erect all missiles and begin filling them with liquid oxygen and methanol."
His voice rang across the launch site.
"Within two hours, I want to see every missile at Camp V-26 airborne."
At the captain's command, the technical engineers quickly sprang into action under the direction of the senior engineers.
They were not yet fully familiar with these enormous devices transported from Germany.
The fueling process was still clumsy and inefficient.
An hour and a half later, of the three rockets transported to the camp, only two had entered launch-ready status.
The third had developed a dent during the liquid oxygen fueling process. Unsure whether this would affect the launch, the engineers reported the situation and halted the third rocket's launch.
This was not unique to Camp V-26.
Similar problems appeared in other camps as well.
Of the first batch of thirty V-2 rockets scheduled for launch, only twenty-five could be fired as planned. The remaining five encountered various difficulties.
Some suffered engine damage because the rocket slipped during the pre-launch erection process due to unstable binding.
Others had incorrect ratios of liquid oxygen and methanol.
But the most common issue was still dents in the outer shell.
Their unfamiliarity with the equipment forcibly delayed the launch by half an hour.
Even so, the result was acceptable.
At Camp V-26, soldiers and officers looked up at the erected giants, all eager to witness this unprecedented spectacle.
In the eyes of many of them, a several-ton object taking flight was already unimaginable.
For it to cross the English Channel and complete a bombing mission on the other side seemed no different from magic.
When the time arrived, the telephone rang precisely.
After all engineers completed the final nozzle and thrust-vectoring adjustments, they moved away from the enormous machine, put on sunglasses, and gestured backward, indicating that the launch area was clear.
Immediately after, the thrusters erupted in a dazzling burst of flame.
The V-2 rocket broke free from the ground and soared into the sky.
To the soldiers, this was undoubtedly a spectacular show.
To the engineers, it was a scientific feast.
This rocket could fly roughly one hundred kilometers upward.
If the rocket were made slightly larger, and if more fuel could be added, could these giants be launched toward the United States?
Or even into space?
The several-ton projectile quickly became a blurred black dot in the sky.
Once the fuel burned out and it reached its apex, the V-2 rocket continued along its parabolic trajectory toward the target through inertia.
The radar station would use radio guidance to minimize the error.
Even so, the deviation would still be considerable.
But this was already the best solution they could offer.
It represented the world's most advanced missile launch technology.
London, Britain.
Posters reading [Join the Army, Fight for Britain] were plastered everywhere, especially in pubs and restaurants.
Due to public opinion control, major newspapers also began campaigning frantically for conscription.
Headlines about the German threat and secondary columns urging enlistment and service to the country appeared in rapid succession, beginning to bombard everything people could see before the Germans did.
The King personally reviewed the British and French heroes who had retreated from Dunkirk, adding a layer of honor to the war.
The military action notice sent by Germany had been secretly suppressed.
Only war and honor were left for the public.
In places where young people gathered, such as pubs, the British Army had even set up recruitment stations. Bundles of pounds and medals were displayed on tables, all for the sake of attracting young people to join the Army at any cost.
Although the effect was not particularly good, the number of enlistments still reached a new high compared with the period before the prisoner-of-war massacre incident.
Arthur was one of them.
As a small-time hooligan wandering around London, war had an endless allure for people his age.
It was as if once he stepped onto the battlefield, he would become the sole protagonist of the story, returning victorious like a triumphant hero from a fairy tale to receive the King's coronation.
Arthur wore a fisherman's hat and a cheap suit as he squeezed to the front of the line.
Before he could speak, a hooligan around his age behind him recognized him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Arthur! Damn it, why are you here too?"
The young man, who had a cross tattooed on his neck, gave him a big hug.
"Saya."
Arthur laughed.
"You idiot who almost lost a testicle after getting beaten by the neighboring gang. You also have the guts to go to war?"
"Fuck you."
At the mention of his old embarrassment, Saya playfully wrapped an arm around Arthur's neck.
The recruiting officer watched the scene as if looking at his own past.
The corners of his lips, which had been slightly raised, slowly drooped as he seemed to think of something.
Ignoring the two brawling young men, he called out toward the line behind them.
"Next."
Hearing this, Arthur quickly rushed to the table and said repeatedly, "Officer, we have not signed yet."
The recruiting officer's pupils darkened slightly.
"Then sign."
His voice was as routine as ever.
"The pen is over there."
Before he could finish speaking, a blurred black dot suddenly appeared in the sky.
Everyone raised their heads.
Some thought it was merely a plane taking off or landing and did not care.
Others noticed that the black dot was rapidly growing larger.
"What is that?"
The recruiting officer looked up.
His calm face instantly turned astonished.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, he shouted, "Take cover! Everyone take cover!"
But it was already too late.
Bang!
A V-2 rocket struck the intersection.
Two thousand pounds of high explosives unleashed a monstrous heat wave at the crossroads.
The vehicles at the center of the explosion instantly became burning wreckage.
The shock wave that followed shattered glass and sent pedestrians flying.
When the people inside nearby houses cautiously looked out, the intersection had already become hell.
Flames were everywhere.
Wailing casualties were everywhere.
Charred fragments of flesh were scattered across the ground.
The pedestrians at the center of the explosion had already been reduced to dust.
A dazed Arthur had just managed to stand when he felt warmth behind him.
A fragment from who knew where had pierced Saya's eye socket.
The blood and that lifeless face made Arthur collapse to the ground, vomiting again and again.
This young man, who had never been to war, had witnessed one cruel corner of it.
But in fact, this bomb detonating in the city center was not the intention of the German launch center.
It was an error.
As many as fifteen V-2 rockets also deviated from their designated bombing targets.
Some detonated in open fields, astonishing old farmers.
Some struck residential areas, causing panic among the population.
Some fortunately hit military airfields, producing unexpected gains.
The remaining ten roughly achieved their tactical objectives and struck several major ports.
One of them, by fortune, hit a moored cruiser, becoming the first missile in history to strike a ship's hull.
Faced with such an unprecedented weapon, the British military immediately fell into deep self-doubt.
At first, no one even believed this was Germany's new weapon.
The General Staff harshly criticized the Air Force for failing to provide aerial defense.
After a full day of investigation, they realized that the situation was even worse than they had imagined.
Germany had not dispatched bomber formations.
Instead, Germany possessed the ability to conduct cross-Channel bombing without needing to deploy the Air Force at all.
.....
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