Chapter 15: Dunkirk

Page 1/3

Time flew by until it was May 29th.

During this period, Enni successfully received the remaining $552.20 in royalties from John Campbell.

At the same time, the new project he had started as a challenge between Puzo and Asimov was nearly complete.

That early morning, Enni woke up early, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, and sat at the dining table in the living room to meticulously revise the manuscript he had written.

As for why not in the bedroom... it was because his sister Mishi was far from a lady.

Her snoring was simply too loud!

In the living room, George was also sitting nearby, reading the newspaper. Today was one of his rare days off.

Originally, he wanted to listen to the radio, but upon learning that Enni had earned $600 writing novels, he dared not disturb Enni by turning on the radio at home.

As a father, seeing his son succeed and become capable, he naturally could not be a stumbling block.

However, revising the manuscript did not require intense concentration.

Moreover, Enni wanted to know the latest situation of the war in Europe.

He looked up at George and said, “Dad, turn on the radio. I want to know how the Anglo-French forces are doing right now.”

Just three days ago, on May 26th, approximately 400,000 soldiers from the British Expeditionary Force, the French First Army Group, and the Belgian army were surrounded by German forces on the beach, launching the dramatic Dunkirk evacuation.

It should be known that the port of Dunkirk held the backbone of the Allied forces. If the more than 40 divisions of troops were trapped, bombed, and annihilated by the Germans, this sweeping campaign across Europe would have effectively failed.

Therefore, over the past week, not only the American public but almost the entire world kept a close eye on the situation at Dunkirk.

At the same time, they prayed that the Anglo-French forces could retreat smoothly… Otherwise, if the Germans occupied Western Europe, no one would be able to stop the expansion of totalitarianism.

The radio was turned on. The correspondent from “Europe Today” was reporting on the situation at Dunkirk over the past 24 hours.

Yesterday was arguably the fiercest day since the Anglo-French forces were besieged at Dunkirk.

Clear weather allowed the German air force to deploy en masse. Stuka dive bombers and Junkers-88 horizontal bombers lingered like relentless nightmares in the air, launching concentrated bombings on the Dunkirk port, beaches, and evacuation fleets at sea.

To counter the German bombings and cover the retreat of friendly forces,

the British Royal Air Force dispatched Hurricane and Spitfire fighters from mainland Britain, continuously taking to the sky throughout the day to intercept German bombers. Though outnumbered, they still shot down multiple German aircraft and managed to contain the German air raid firepower.

Page 2/3

On the sea, besides military vessels rushing at full speed to evacuate troops, nearly a thousand civilian boats also joined the evacuation at Churchill’s call. These civilian vessels had shallow drafts and were agile, allowing them to approach the beaches directly, compensating for the shortcomings of military ships and playing a significant role.

Moreover, the heavy fog that enveloped Dunkirk yesterday obstructed the German air force’s visibility, giving the British troops a precious opportunity to accelerate their evacuation.

Thus, in the past 24 hours, more than 17,000 Allied soldiers were evacuated from Dunkirk, marking a peak in the number of evacuees in recent days.

Amid the background noise of artillery bombardment and crashing waves, the correspondent’s deep and solemn voice broadcasted a series of battle reports, allowing listeners to feel the intensity of the great evacuation even through the radio.

“Let’s hope those British and French troops can retreat safely!”

George frowned, full of worry, speaking sincerely.

Although he believed the United States should not send troops to aid Britain and France, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hoping the Anglo-French forces could turn danger into safety was only natural.

Enni nodded, sharing the same concern.

But he knew that after the Führer’s order on May 24th to pause German operations for about 60 hours, the Allies had fully leveraged this opportunity to complete their coordination and transportation systems… Essentially, a moment of hesitation when the enemy could have been shattered, allowing the opposition to regain some strength.

This mistaken decision destined the Dunkirk evacuation to become the turning point and greatest miracle of the war.

“...This is ‘Europe Today.’ May God bless the trapped warriors. James Carlton reporting from London.”

With the closing words, the broadcast ended.

George switched radio channels to continue listening to other battlefield news.

By the time the broadcast ended, Enni had successfully finished revising his manuscript.

After greeting George, he pushed his bicycle downstairs and headed straight toward “Hell’s Kitchen” in Manhattan’s West Side.

…

Manhattan, Clinton District.

True to the nickname “Hell’s Kitchen,” the streets here were more chaotic than hell itself, as if the kitchen of devils.

The entire chaotic street emitted a stench akin to a graveyard of filth. Rows of tenement apartments crowded both sides, their red brick walls covered with dark mold stains. The windows were stained gray-yellow by smoke, and the sheets hanging out to dry fluttered like patches in the wind.

Everywhere echoed with shouting, crying, and coughing. Deliverymen’s bicycles clanged over the potholes, the milk crates on the rear racks rattling glass bottles together. Puddles, cigarette butts, flies, and rotten vegetable leaves swirled in the wake of the deflated tires.

“Ma’am, here’s your bagel and milk.”

“That’ll be 11 cents altogether.”

Page 3/3

Mario Puzo lifted a bag of bread and milk from his bicycle’s rear rack and handed it to the Irish elderly woman before him.

Delivering for a bakery in the Clinton district was his other part-time job.

In this era, deliverymen were not paid per order but received a fixed wage, earning him 30 cents an hour.

Although the pay was less than his usher job at the cinema, it offered more freedom and relatively more free time.

The Irish woman took the paper bag, muttering about rising prices, “How can people live like this,” and “Damn this war.”

Of course, as a deliveryman, Puzo also grumbled about soaring prices but knew there was nothing he could do.

He silently took the coins the woman handed him and pedaled back toward the bakery.

It was now midday, and the bakery delivery work had quieted down.

Mario Puzo leaned on his bicycle, took out a pencil and his novel manuscript from his pocket.

He had completed a novel to submit to “Black Mask” magazine, retaining the previous discarded title “The Gentleman,” though the story itself was entirely different.

Though still focusing on the lives of New York’s lower-class communities, the core had shifted from purely narrating hardship to a crisp, plot-driven style of “urban dark realism.”

Long-winded dialogues had been trimmed to be concise and powerful, and the protagonist’s character had become tough and resolute, no longer twisted like in the earlier discarded draft.

Most importantly, as Enni had suggested, he had added many sensual scenes in the novel.

At this moment,

Puzo held a pencil, now less than a finger’s length, carefully patching up the manuscript as if sewing with needle and thread. He had lost count of how many times he had revised it, yet he still felt there was room for improvement.

Knowing this novel was his earnest submission, anxiety gnawed at him constantly, fearing yet another rejection.

“Puzo!”

Suddenly, a bicycle sped over, the rider holding the handlebars with one hand while waving and calling out to him.

…