usatvline Chapter 110 Goring's Rise, and a Comfortable Life Comes Knocking
Chapter 110 Goring's Rise, and a Comfortable Life Comes Knocking
Chapter 110 Goring's Rise, and a Comfortable Life Comes Knocking
Some are happy, some are sad; laughter fills the streets and alleys of Berlin, Germany.
"Have you heard? France has also declared war on Britain. They're actually on our side."
"A war has broken out in the Middle East, and this time we are just spectators. No, we should be considered neutral third parties."
"Yes, this war has nothing to do with us."
"Britain will be weakened, glory belongs to Germany!"
"Yes, we will defeat Britain; they are already in a mess."
All the generals and commanders of all branches of the armed forces in the Supreme Command were smiling.
This is really good news; it makes me feel good just thinking about it.
Even the young painter looked at Göring with kindness.
This man, who took despicable tactics to the extreme, actually triggered a major war, and Germany achieved its goal without losing a single soldier.
"Göring, well done!" The young painter praised his Air Force Marshal without hesitation.
Yes, this is me, a man born to be despicable.
Göring proudly raised his chin toward Röntgen and said, "Didn't you say I was bad at tactical command?"
I did it, can you?
Ronstadt avoided Göring's gaze; he really couldn't do it.
Shameless scoundrel, utterly devoid of any sense of honor as a soldier.
A group of army generals collectively despised Göring, but he did indeed give Germany a huge strategic advantage.
The soldiers felt terribly uncomfortable under Göring's burning gaze; that bastard was smug and overjoyed.
Goring tugged at his own clothes and slowly walked towards the little painter.
Bending slightly over.
"Your Excellency, the Air Force will never fail the Empire's expectations."
"Very good." The little painter left satisfied.
Göring stood again in front of the huge map in the center of the command headquarters, with his hands behind his back and his back to the crowd.
He tilted his head slightly upward to look at the map.
His eyes were on the map, but inside he was laughing hysterically.
This is what it feels like to be a superior person!
Göring, you are the most dazzling presence in the Supreme Command.
"That bastard is here again, he's so annoying."
Bock said irritably.
Ronstadt stared disdainfully at Göring's retreating figure. "Couldn't he just go back to his office? He has maps in his office, doesn't he?"
Envy me, be jealous, tremble! This is me, the king's hunter, the howling devil.
Goring's shoulders trembled with laughter; he too was about to receive the title of Legend.
Look at this guy. Hiram is watching with a sore throat. You owe all your achievements to the Prophet. Do you really think you're so capable?
That's right, William Carraris thought so too.
The German Air Force was unprecedentedly powerful, and that was all thanks to its exploitation of Schoenwein.
Besides, who came up with the idea of special operations?
The two leaders exchanged a glance, and Himm was even more furious. His Fort Orning commando unit had played a crucial role, and this time it wasn't entirely due to the air force.
So you've taken all the credit, and the SS has nothing to do with it, huh?
That shameless scoundrel.
Manstein watched Göring's retreating figure with a wry smile, he really hadn't expected Göring's tactics to be so effective.
However, he is now worried about another issue: Is Italy reliable?
The current situation is favorable to Italy.
What if Italy is unreliable?
Germany will eventually have to step in.
"It seems I have to convince Speer to prioritize equipping Rommel's troops with assault rifles."
Seemingly sensing Manstein's concerns, William Carraris walked to the map. "If you're worried about the war situation, then I can offer you a suggestion."
"Oh?" Manstein gestured for him to enter.
William Carraris pointed to a location on the map.
"Iran?" Manstein frowned.
"If you're worried about not having enough troops, or that the Italians aren't up to the task, then we'll continue to cause trouble for the British and support Iranian independence."
"Haha," Manstein suddenly laughed, "Very strategic."
The two looked at each other and smiled.
Sean remained at the military base, and from breakfast onwards, Matthew Ridgway's gaze towards him became somewhat evasive.
Standing on the playground, I stretched and ran a lap with Marilyn Monroe to loosen up my stiff body.
At 22, he lived like a 42-year-old.
"Hey Sean, you really are a prophet."
Eisenhower walked over, took out a cigarette and offered one to Sean, who gently shook his head in refusal, explaining that he had just finished running and was still panting.
"As you said, with the attacks on Haifa Airport and Amman Airport in Transjordan, Britain has completely lost all its air bases in the Middle East."
Currently, the only way to launch airstrikes against western Iraq is through Egyptian airports.
"But this level of effectiveness is negligible, and the distance is too great."
Looking at the calm smile on Sean's face, Eisenhower really thought this young man was amazing.
"Yes, everything you said has come true. Without the air force, Britain will be bogged down. The Iraq War has begun. My God, how did you know that?"
Eisenhower stared at Sean's face, as if trying to see right through the guy, who seemed to predict the future and never made a mistake.
Can I tell you that I come from the future?
Although the timeline is off, the Iraq War was bound to happen eventually, due to the irreconcilable conflict between Iraq as a colony and Britain as the aggressor.
Besides, now is the best time.
"My God, this battle is getting harder and harder to analyze. Italy is attacking Egypt, Britain wants to suppress Iraq, and there's the French Civil War—all of these things are happening at the same time."
Sean truly hadn't expected the butterfly effect to be so terrifying.
It wasn't just the Iraq War, but also the Egypt War, and even the Lebanon-Syria War.
The three battles were squeezed into one day.
Göring played an indispensable role as the mastermind behind the scenes.
No, Hanni watched excitedly from the sidelines, attesting to the incredible abilities Your Excellency possessed.
If it weren't for you, Germany wouldn't have abandoned Operation Sea Lion; if it weren't for you, Göring wouldn't have been involved in special operations. You are indescribably great.
"So you're saying I'm right?"
Seeing Sean's ambiguous smile, Eisenhower suddenly burst into laughter and patted Sean on the shoulder.
"That's right, you're right again. That's why Matthew Ridgway has been avoiding you all day. He's afraid to meet you because he's wrong, terribly wrong."
"Do you still remember what he said?"
"Haha." Eisenhower laughed loudly.
Sean pursed his lips slightly, turned his head and saw Li Qiwei walking past with his head down, deliberately not looking in their direction.
Sean was inwardly laughing wildly, having once again slain another renowned American general.
"Hi, Ridgway," Sean said, raising his hand in a calm voice.
Ridgway stopped in his tracks, his heart filled with torment; there was no escaping it.
He turned around awkwardly, "Hi, Sean."
Look, their attitude has become so sincere.
Sean was quite satisfied.
Where is your defiance? I prefer the way you argue with me.
"Are you OK?"
"I'm fine, thank you." Ridgway felt a little uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and slowly relaxed. Sean Wayne, a god-like figure, he shouldn't have guessed the outcome of the battle with him. That bastard was cheating.
I was cheating, Sean knew it very well, and no one was better at cheating than him.
Meeting Sean's strange gaze, Ridgway felt extremely uncomfortable. At this moment, Sean had long lost his initial naivety and restraint, and was not intimidated even when facing a famous American general after the war.
"I apologize for my misunderstanding. You're right, special operations do have aspects that exceed our imagination."
"That's right," Sean chuckled softly. "You know, there's nothing in this world that can't be done, only things you haven't thought of."
"I will remember that."
Sean didn't plan to chase after him to fight. Ridgway was different from MacArthur; he wasn't as annoying.
"Okay, military camp isn't for me. I've been playing around for a few days and I'm getting bored. Monroe, let's go home. You're starting school soon."
Hearing Sean's call, the tomboy wiggled his waist and stretched his body.
"Then I'll go pack my clothes."
The convoy departed from San Diego and, after a long journey, finally returned to their familiar apartment.
Two short Asian men, their legs seemingly not touching, were standing at the door, explaining to Foreman.
"I'm sorry, we must see Lord Sean Wayne."
"The word 'sorry' doesn't exist in my dictionary. This is the last time I'll say it: anyone who's not involved, leave immediately."
As the founder of the Green Devil special forces, Major Forman showed no respect for them.
"You bastard, do you even know who I am?"
"Who you are has nothing to do with me. I'm warning you for the last time. If you're looking for trouble, you've chosen the wrong place." Forman's mood worsened; the little dwarf in front of him was actually threatening him.
"Baka!"
Oh dear, what a simple life?
Sean sat curiously in the car, looking at the situation at the door.
What do these guys want from me?
Although he couldn't understand it, Forman knew the other person wasn't saying anything nice.
He stared coldly at the other person. "Are you sick? I think you really are."
"What are you talking about?" The Japanese man who spoke didn't take the group of guards seriously at all.
In Japan, where social status is paramount, everything is determined by one's position.
Unfortunately, he chose the wrong target. In Germany, and even in most of Europe, Foreman was far more arrogant than him. Even the SS had to say "Yes, sir" to them.
As the leader of the Shadow Office's assault team, Forman looked down on even the British, let alone a group of Japanese.
"I told you to get lost."
The tall white man stepped forward; he didn't want anyone unrelated to Lord Sean to come into contact with him.
"Are you threatening me?" Xiao Rizi felt humiliated.
"Yes, you understand correctly. I'm threatening you. I'm giving you thirty seconds. If you don't leave, I'll carry you away." Protecting Lord Sean was Forman's duty; how could he possibly be afraid of a group of Asians?
"asshole."
"Oh dear, you're quite stubborn," Major Foreman suddenly laughed, raising his hand.
Eight muscular white men emerged from the apartment.
Hanni sat in the passenger seat, glaring angrily outside. "These damn pigs, don't they know where they are?"
"Sir, I'll handle it."
Hanni even carefully observed Sean's expression, but surprisingly, Sean wasn't angry. Instead, he rested his chin on his hand, looked out the window, and had a smile on his face.
"I reiterate once again, we are the Los Angeles Consulate of the Great Japanese Empire."
Another person revealed their identity.
I must say, this identity is very useful.
As an official, one can enjoy considerable privileges even in the United States.
But he went to the wrong place.
Forman laughed. The consulate? So what?
The German consul still had to wait outside for a summons; if he wasn't allowed in, he wasn't allowed in, and even the ambassador's arrival was useless.
"We have brought a gift from His Majesty the Emperor this time." The bald Japanese man was slightly more respectful, without any sense of superiority.
A gift from His Majesty?
Forman laughed again. The Führer had given countless gifts here, so what about his?
The major raised his hand, glanced at his watch, and said with a regretful expression, "Time's up."
"What do you mean?"
Forman smiled, took a step back, and said in German, "Throw it in the trash."
The two Japanese envoys suddenly panicked. Four Germans lifted them up and kicked their legs in mid-air.
"Damn it, you're attacking diplomatic personnel."
Foreman remained silent as four Germans, carrying two small notebooks, headed towards the trash can.
"Wait a minute, is there some misunderstanding? We really are here on behalf of His Majesty the Emperor to deliver a gift."
Unfortunately, none of the paratroopers listened to them; as soldiers, they strictly followed orders.
boom!
The two were thrown into a trash can, and then the lid was pressed down hard.
boom!
The lid was put on.
Shouts and curses could be heard from inside.
"You'll regret this."
Sean laughed as he pushed open the car door and walked toward the apartment entrance.
"Sir, this is what happened."
Before Forman could explain, Sean simply smiled.
"Next time, beat them up first before throwing them away."
"I understand." Foreman stood at attention.
Sean had no interest in the Japanese people coming to see him or bringing him any gifts.
I've only taken one step, wait a minute.
Next time we come, would you like to hear what they want to do?
The thought flashed through my mind.
Sean lifted his leg and walked up the stairs. Most of the people living in the apartment now are the families of paratroopers. He himself doesn't lack money, and this building has almost become a staff dormitory.
"Hanni."
"gentlemen."
Sean stopped in his tracks. "Go buy another one. Haven't their families come over yet?"
"Heidett's group has been settled. Heidett's wife and son have been received. Forman's group is a whole battalion, five hundred men."
"Five hundred people?" Sean was slightly taken aback.
"However, some people haven't arrived in the US yet; only two hundred have come. Three hundred are still on standby in Europe. What are your instructions?"
Does he still have a private army in Europe?
"Wait a minute, if each person spends three hundred dollars a month, doesn't that mean I'll be spending 15 dollars a month?"
Hanni didn't expect that Sean was thinking about salary.
"The European part doesn't need to be paid." Hanni didn't say that our Shadow Office's five commando teams, totaling 2,500 people, plus the North American intelligence section, totaling 3,000 people, have independent financial allocations.
This doesn't even include the units of the Western Front Foreign Army, but includes the SS.
Hanni looked at Sean awkwardly, "You have a division-level unit under your command."
Although not an armored division, the Green Devils' actual expenses were no less than those of an SS tank destroyer battalion.
Intelligence work is very expensive.
Sean didn't hear it that way.
With over two hundred people, I have to spend sixty to seventy thousand US dollars a month.
My God, I'm getting poorer and poorer as I get older.
The little money I earn doesn't seem to be enough; this time, I must cut the War Department's losses.
"Buy another apartment building and arrange for Foreman and the others to live there."
Sigh, there's simply not enough money. We'll have to take it slow.
Upon hearing Sean's words, Forman behind him immediately cast a grateful glance his way.
Mr. Sean has always had us in his heart.
They even gave us an extra salary.
As Sean stepped through the door with his right foot, a familiar yet annoying voice rang in his ears.
"Hey Sean, you're finally back."
O'Connor, that wicked businessman, sat on his sofa, drinking his Coke and smoking his cigar, acting as if he belonged there.
Sean didn't say a word.
"You should write a review," O'Connor said, a cigar dangling from his lips, looking on with a pleased expression.
Well, he not only doesn't consider himself an outsider, but he's even a bit overconfident. Do you think I'm some kind of beast of burden?
O'Connor heard something that made him extremely depressed.
"Hanni, buy the Los Angeles Times."
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