Rockets exploded one after another near the "Big Bertha."
From the outside, it was impossible to tell if they hit their target, but one could see "Big Bertha" engulfed in flames and smoke. Several artillerymen were killed or wounded, some caught fire, flailing their limbs and screaming chaotically in the flames.
In Shire’s telescope eye piece, there was nothing to be seen; "Big Bertha" was just out of his line of sight.
After a long while with no follow-up, Shire sighed inwardly, ultimately, they hadn’t succeeded. The rockets probably couldn’t threaten this thick-skinned behemoth, or only cause it minor malfunctions that a little maintenance could fix and put it back in operation.
Eric, who executed the mission, thought the same. He glanced back at the "Big Bertha," gave the cabin a hard slap, and cursed, "Damn it! We need more rockets, one more time!"
But he knew there wouldn’t be another chance. The Germans were prepared now. Another attempt would not only face the German Army pilots intercepting him, but also the German infantry arching their Maxims up high, whose dense bullets would prevent him from approaching or risk being torn to pieces.
Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded behind, Eric turned back once more, only to see the spot where "Big Bertha" had been transformed into a massive cloud of smoke.
Eric immediately understood what had happened, he burst out laughing:
"It’s the cannon shell, ’Big Bertha’s’ shell! I detonated its shell!"
"Ha ha, little guy! We are so lucky!"
"I really took it out, and I’m still alive!"
Everyone knew what happened, they were too familiar with that explosion sound, vast and muffled, with a thunderous echo.
Antwerp had trembled under this sound for over ten days, no one anticipated that "Big Bertha’s" final fate would be to fall by its own shell!
Bessler turned pale, he had just been relieved thinking there might still be a chance for salvation, only to see "Big Bertha" turned to fragments in an instant.
The smoke and dust hadn’t dissipated yet, but one could already see "Big Bertha’s" formerly proud cannon barrel limp toward the ground, lifeless.
Antwerp roared with cheers once more, people waved excitedly at the aircraft in the sky, faces full of joy and reverence.
Eric deliberately lowered the aircraft to skim over the crowd’s heads, further inciting screams and shouts, even some chasing from behind.
Albert I glanced at General Gis and said, "General, it seems we don’t need to execute your surprise attack plan, don’t you think?"
"Oh, absolutely, Your Majesty!" General Gis responded with a bow.
This should have relaxed General Gis; after all, the target was destroyed, and Antwerp was safe. But he still felt immense pressure as he answered.
General Gis believed Albert I’s true message was: Are you really suitable to be the commander of this fortress, isn’t it time for a replacement?
Albert I said nothing further, packed up his telescope, turned and walked down the lookout tower. He wanted to maintain elegance and composure, the demeanor fitting a king.
However, after descending one flight, Albert I couldn’t help but quicken his steps and soon sprinted down. He couldn’t wait to grasp Shire’s hand and tell him, victory was theirs, once again he had saved the Belgian people!
Behind Albert I, General Winter quietly asked General Gis, "General, it seems we don’t need to hand Shire over to the Germans anymore!"
General Gis responded with an awkward "Hmm, indeed!"
Eric’s plane slowly landed on the runway, and as he stepped off, he was uplifted by cheering crowds, tossed into the air repeatedly.
Another biplane and a "Dove" also landed, Fisher and another pilot walked out, greeted with the same heroic reception.
However, the entire squadron was down to only these few. Eight planes had gone into battle, but only three returned.
Those who sacrificed themselves did so valiantly, but people still tended to overlook them.
Seeing Shire approach with his guards, Eric proudly raised his head and asked, "How did I do, sir?"
"Not bad!" Shire replied, "How about a jug of wine as a reward?"
The people around all burst into laughter.
The sound of hooves approached rapidly; the King’s carriage sped forth, slowing as it entered the airport gate and soon stopped in front of the crowd.
Soldiers hastily formed up to welcome him, Albert I jumped out of the carriage with excitement. Seeing their lined up formation startled him momentarily, he quickly pulled himself together, put on a serious face, and shook hands with the soldiers with authority, praising them as he went:
"You are heroes of Belgium!"
"Well done, I am proud of you!"
"I thank you on behalf of Belgium!"
Reaching Shire, Albert I’s expression softened, "Can we talk, Lieutenant?"
"Of course!" Shire responded.
The two didn’t return to the office but walked to one side of the airport. The area was vast and empty, just by having the guards block people from approaching, no one would know what the King discussed with Shire.
"I know it’s impossible, but..." Albert I hesitated, then opened up, "Could you help me command Belgium’s troops? I believe Parliament and the Belgian people would agree."
"Your Majesty..." Shire was stunned.
"I know, Shire," Albert I smiled slightly, "you are French, and this would be difficult for you! But I will do my best to give you whatever you want."
Albert I thought even a one in ten thousand chance was worth trying.
"Perhaps think of it this way," Albert I continued, "France is winning, but Belgium is still in danger. France can do without you, but Belgium cannot. The Belgian people cannot. Belgium with you is safe!"
"No, Your Majesty, I can’t do that!" Shire refused bluntly.
If Belgium were a country where Albert I could make such decisions, Shire might agree, after all "I will do my best to give you whatever you want" was quite tempting.
But reality wasn’t so. National affairs were truly governed by a parliament controlled by capitalists.
Thus, Shire wouldn’t be safe in Belgium. There was always the danger: hand Shire over to Germany, and Germany wouldn’t attack Belgium.
This wasn’t about morality or ethics, but the interests between nations, an irresolvable conflict.
Capitalists are the same everywhere, if Shire stayed in Belgium, this conflict would escalate eventually!
Wise people know when to quit while ahead; Shire didn’t want to live anxiously, it held no meaning!