pappabearbooks What does Chapter 2 have to do with ocean currents?
What does Chapter 2 have to do with ocean currents?
Montgomery then noticed Thorne, who was dressed in civilian clothes. He raised his chin and looked curiously at this arrogant young man.
Behind Montgomery, a major staff officer with a mustache seemed to recognize Thorne and stepped forward to whisper a few words to him.
Montgomery suddenly realized that he was an oil salesman.
"So," Montgomery took two steps closer, scrutinizing Thorne with interest, a sneer playing on his lips, "you have a way to repel Rommel without using tanks?"
"Yes," Thorne replied.
Laughter came from the soldiers around him, and everyone thought Thorne was just talking to himself.
The female captain didn't laugh; her face showed some embarrassment, as if she regretted bringing Thorne, this troublesome person, into the warehouse.
Montgomery shook his head, his eyes filled with contempt and a hint of helplessness.
"You're wasting my time, sir," Montgomery said. "Go back to where you belong; this isn't for you."
With that, Montgomery turned and left.
But Thorne was in no hurry. He said to Montgomery's retreating figure, "We can tamper with the German fuel, General."
The sound was not loud, but it was steady and powerful.
Montgomery paused: This guy is an oil salesman, and the son of the head of the Red Sea oil field. He might actually have some connections to infiltrate the German supply chain.
"Do you have a solution?" Montgomery asked, turning around.
He was unwilling to give up any possibility, any possibility of defeating Rommel and stabilizing the defense.
"Yes," Thorne replied confidently.
"Alright!" Montgomery, though somewhat skeptical, nodded to Thorne and softened his tone. "Could we talk in my office, sir?"
"Of course," Thorne replied.
As Thorne passed by the female captain, he noticed that she looked utterly dejected, as if Thorne had done something terribly wrong.
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Montgomery's office is simple and orderly, exuding the meticulousness of traditional British people.
The main wall on the side is covered with combat maps indicating the enemy's and our own positions. On the table is a smaller one, along with command tools such as a brass magnifying glass and a pencil. In the corner is a filing cabinet, where several staff officers are busy amidst piles of documents and the sound of telegrams.
Montgomery sat down in the chair behind his desk: "Tell me about your channels, sir."
"Channels?" Thorne didn't understand what Montgomery was talking about.
The staff officer with the mustache moved a chair for Thorne, then stood next to Montgomery, watching Thorne warily, as if ready to kick him out at any moment.
Montgomery looked at Thorne with suspicion: "You said you had a way to tamper with the Germans' fuel."
"Oh, yes," Thorne replied, "I do have a way, but it's not through any special channels."
A flicker of surprise crossed Montgomery's eyes, then he shrugged: "I'm listening."
Thorne sensed Montgomery's impatience, but he didn't care: "Before that, General, you know I'm a businessman."
The meaning is clear: I'll give you the solution, and you give me the quota.
Montgomery understood Thorne's meaning: "Don't worry, if your method works, you'll get what you want."
Then, half-jokingly, he asked, "Do we need to draw up a contract?"
"No, it's not necessary," Thorne replied.
This is unnecessary. The military's quotas will be given to whoever they want, so it's a trivial matter for Montgomery. He has no reason to break the agreement.
Thorne didn't rush to answer. He got up, found a point on the map on the table, and said, "Maltese Island. Because of it, Rommel's fuel supplies have been consistently tight, right?"
Thorne turned his gaze to Montgomery.
Malta is a small island between Italy and North Africa. The British deployed warships and fighter planes there, blocking its supply lines and preventing Rommel from getting enough fuel.
(The image above shows the location of Malta. During World War II, the British deployed their naval and air forces there, essentially driving a thorn in the side of the German supply lines.)
"Hmph," Montgomery replied coldly, "That seems to be none of your business."
“It’s relevant, General,” Thorne continued. “In August, a type of ocean current called the ‘cyclonic circulation’ prevails in the Mediterranean.”
This is knowledge Thorne acquired in modern times; as a student at a geology university, he was intimately familiar with the ocean currents of all the seas.
Montgomery looked blank; he didn't know this.
Thorne picked up a pencil from the side and drew a few curves near Malta, explaining as he drew:
"Simply put, during this period the Mediterranean Sea will form a counter-clockwise rotating circulation."
"The ocean currents near Malta are moving south."
"And along the North African coast, we can get the eastward-moving ocean currents..."
Montgomery finally lost his patience and interrupted Thorne: "Let's get to the point, sir. Tell me the solution, or get out of here!"
Thorne straightened up, his tone still steady: "This means that after our forces sink the German transport ships, their barrels of fuel will be carried by ocean currents to the North African coast, General."
"Oh, that's great." Montgomery chuckled. "You mean to tell me that Rommel will get fuel no matter what...?"
Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly understood Thorne's meaning, abruptly looked up at Thorne, and unconsciously leaned forward from the back of his chair.
"You mean...?"
Thorne nodded slightly:
"Our navy and air force cannot be content with merely destroying enemy transport ships, General."
"We also need to salvage as many of the oil tanks that have floated out to sea as possible."
"Then, add something to the fuel tank and throw it back into the sea, or prepare 'fuel' beforehand."
Montgomery instantly abandoned his contempt. He stared at Thorne blankly for a long time without saying a word, seemingly unable to believe that this plan was conceived by an oil salesman.
The staff officer with the mustache standing to the side understood, and his eyes widened in surprise as he exclaimed:
"God, and then these oil drums will drift with the ocean currents to the North African coast, right?"
"The Germans will find these oil drums."
"Yes, they are extremely short of oil, and they will definitely send people to search the coast for every barrel of oil they can find."
"Then……"
The rest is self-explanatory.
The Germans used problematic fuel, which will render their already limited number of tanks unusable.
It was easy and effortless; all that was required was to retrieve the oil drums.
Why didn't I come up with this idea? Montgomery's expression was a mix of emotions.
Montgomery then asked another question: "So, what should we add to the oil so that we can inflict fatal damage on their tanks without being detected by the Germans?"
"That's simple, General." Thorne smiled.
"As you know, I'm an oil salesman, and I own an oil company."
"As long as you give us enough quota and permissions, I can deliver the 'problematic oil' to you within a few days."
Montgomery stared at Thorne for a while, then finally nodded slowly.
"Go get the quota list, Gray," he ordered the mustache-wearing staff officer.
"Yes, General." The staff officer with the mustache nodded, casting another admiring glance at Thorne as he passed by.
Thorne breathed a sigh of relief; the oil company was saved.
At the same time, he also realized that his knowledge of modern geology, petroleum, and military affairs would be his sharpest weapons in the world.