Aklow, a coastal town located in the southeast of County Wicklow, is one of the closest places to the UK from Ireland. Its straight line voyage with the Cohen Peninsula is less than 100 kilometers. During the great construction period of the Kingdom of Ireland, Aklow did not become a military fortress like Dublin and Wicksford, but was listed as a dedicated trade port for fishing and animal husbandry products. In the "golden decade" of rapid economic development in Europe, Aklow became a rising pearl on the east coast of Ireland. The once barren and quiet town was reborn, with ports widened and docks renovated. The size of the town has doubled. The downtown city is bustling, the nightlife is colorful, and all kinds of foreigners come and go here, like a miniature version of Limerick. However, all positive and positive

The trend came to an abrupt end in late spring and early summer in 1933. The indirect confrontation between the two camps in the Middle East caused the international tension to heat up, and the military preparations of the powerful countries accelerated one after another. Since the first Irish naval patrol ship entered Aklow, daily life here inevitably entered the rhythm of warfare. Wired and wireless communications were strictly controlled. The roads in and out were heavily locked. The army implemented patrol guards day and night. All foreigners stranded here were required to report to the police station every day and must be reviewed before leaving the country. All such people were uncomfortable as if they were handcuffed and chained. However, as the war approached, the Irish put away their complaints and doubts and actively cooperated with the military arrangements.

Early in the morning, naval personnel wearing short-brimmed military caps and blue-clothed white pants appeared on the pier treks in Aklo. There were only two berths at the earliest, and later gradually expanded to six. The largest ship with a draught of six meters was docked. Whenever a storm hit, there were often more than a hundred or even more than two hundred ships sheltered from the wind. The small port of Aklo can withstand the invasion of bad weather, but because there were no artillery and fortresses, it was difficult to withstand the enemy's deliberate attacks. Therefore, when the war broke out, except for a few light ships used for patrol, most of the people stranded here were civilian ships, and trawlers accounted for the majority.

"The trawler fishing boat 'Amble' has a registered tonnage of 42 tons, a length of 21.2 meters, a width of 4.6 meters, a draft of 2 meters, and a load of 30 tons... Completed in 1919, Limerick Second Shipyard was built, using Brown-type water pipe boiler and Nat-type double-cylinder reciprocating steam engine, sail auxiliary power, maximum speed of 11 knots, iron-wood shell..."

On a wooden trestle, a young naval officer was holding a book of bound materials in his hand, and compared with the name of the ship, he read out the main contents of the information. In front of him was a middle-aged man wearing a plaid jacket with rough skin, wrinkles on his face, thick arms, and wide palms. He looked like a man who had been going out to sea for many years. The trawler behind him was like the man, with mottled paint and vicissitudes of time, but the objects on the ship were neatly carved and looked very clean. A strong beard, a tall and thin boy, and a thirteen or fourteen-year-old blonde boy all looked at him.

"Yes, sir, your information is accurate." The middle-aged man grinned, "but it needs to be added that due to the aging and wear of the machinery, it has now not reached the speed of completion. It can run about 10 knots without wind and waves, and it will cause some failures from time to time."

The naval officer made a simple note on the booklet with his pen and said slowly: "The good news is that we will conduct maintenance for you for free, and the bad news is that we need to temporarily requisition it. If there is any loss, the government will compensate at the market price. If there is no objection, please sign here."

"Sign up and hand over the boat to you, that's it?" The middle-aged man was not happy or sad, and seemed to just want to get the answer.

"Don't worry, Mr. Hannasha, next is the second thing... David Hannasha, born in Wicklow on April 20, 1891, is 5 feet 9 inches tall, healthy, once a crew member, now his profession is a fisherman, without the experience of serving in the army; George Valen, born in Dublin in 1886, is 5 inches tall, 4 inches tall, healthy..."

The middle-aged man put his hands on his hips: "Yes, yes, there should be someone named John Hannasha in your registration information. He is my son. Have you seen it?"

"Yes, a handsome guy, but he is less than 16 years old." The non-commissioned officer handed a printed document to the other party. "This is a volunteer application. If you are willing to stay and help us drive this fishing boat, we will pay you 200 marks per person per day. If you are injured, the government will provide free medical treatment and the same disability allowance as the soldiers. If you are unfortunately killed, the government will pay your family a one-time pension of 400,000 marks."

The middle-aged man took the document in the form of an announcement letter and read it while saying, "Are you going to the British front line to requisition these ships?"

The non-commissioned officer shrugged: "If you sign this volunteer, you will know the answer soon, otherwise, there is no need for you to ask more questions."

The middle-aged man frowned and turned to look at his guys.

"Irish marks 200 a day, what reason should I not do?" the strong bearded man shouted in a muffled voice.

"Yes, can we make 400,000 marks in our lifetime?" The tall and thin young man smiled self-deprecatingly.

The blonde boy stepped over the shore pedal lightly and came to his father, and said to the naval officer with a sincere face: "I will be 16 years old in a few months, sir. I must follow my father, and it is impossible for me to leave the ship alone."

The naval officer smiled at him: "Sorry, Mr. Hannasha, the rules are regulations, and we cannot violate them."

The middle-aged man did not say anything, but grabbed a pen from the non-commissioned officer, quickly signed his name at the signature position at the bottom of the document, then raised his hand and signaled the two people on the boat to come down to sign.

"I'm not for money or high pensions, but because I have a heart that loves the country in my chest. If I unfortunately die on the front line, my son can live well... He should have received a good education, rather than being dragged down by me to deal with fish and shrimp all day long." The middle-aged man stroked the boy's head with loving affection, but the boy was not grateful. He cried: "No, I don't want to live with my aunt, don't teach in a birdcage school, I want to be a brave sea eagle."

"Silly boy, I'm talking about it if. Don't worry, we will definitely win this war, and we and the Amber will definitely return safely." The middle-aged man comforted.

Two boatmen signed the letters on their volunteers. The naval officer turned his head and looked at the old but not broken fishing trawler: "If nothing unexpected happens, someone will come to inspect and repair it in the morning. Replace the parts that need to be replaced. You three should not go too far and wait for instructions at any time... Then there will be a special liaison officer to come to you, wish you good luck!"

"Thank you, Mr. Officer." said the middle-aged man, "I have to settle down the little Mr. Hannasha who doesn't like the school first. My sister lives in the town. She is very good, but she has a little irritable temper."

The naval officer looked down at the boy and stretched out his right hand: "Mr. Hannasha, when you are 16 years old, I will be happy to hand over such a volunteer to you personally. If you can formally join the Royal Irish Navy through service selection, or be admitted to the Naval School, I will be very proud of our handshake today."

The boy shook hands with the non-commissioned officer timidly, and his bright eyes were quietly filled with longing for the future.

The naval officer nodded to the other three people and then walked towards the next registered civilian ship.

At the same time, on the edge of a fir forest about five kilometers away from the port of Aklo, ground crews in dark gray work clothes were busy preparing to inspect the instruments, pipelines, and control devices before attacking the fighter planes hidden under the camouflage net, and loading fuses on the already-mounted aviation bombs. On a grass in the forest, dozens of pilots wearing standard jackets were listening attentively to the commander's pre-war deployment.

"Everyone listened. Our primary task for this attack is to support the troops landing in the southern part of the Cohen Peninsula and bomb the British team on the battlefield. According to the latest battle reports, our fighters are still trying to control the battlefield, which means that we are likely to encounter British fighters when performing missions. The situation is not optimistic. But for the army brothers who fought bloody battles, we have taken the opportunity to control the battlefield. Remember, the flight altitude of entering the battlefield is controlled below 50 meters, and decisively drop bombs at the right time and quickly fight. If you are targeted by British fighters, don't panic and try to reduce the altitude and fly on the beach or nearshore waters. In that way, even if you are hit, you still have the chance to land in the area we control."

After the officer finished speaking, someone raised his hand to ask a question.

"In carrying out such ultra-low-altitude bombing, we must be prepared for not only British fighter jets, but also British troops on the ground, which may be knocked down by their guns at any time. This is too risky!"

"That's right, it's really very risky, so when I received the order from my superiors, I also raised objections, but the situation on the front line is very critical and we cannot let go of our care. If an extra bomb falls on the British army, the British army's strength to attack our positions will be weakened by one point, and the landing troops' hope of defending the defense line will be increased by one point. Is there any problem?"

Another pilot asked: "After we drop the bomb, should we use safe evacuation as our first target, or should we use machine guns to kill and injure the British army as much as possible?"

The officer did not answer immediately, but hesitated: "The command headquarters' order is to return immediately after dropping bombs. On this basis, as long as I have the opportunity, I will use a machine gun to shoot the enemy on the ground. This is my personal idea and it does not constitute any suggestions to you, do you understand?"

Seeing that the pilots had no other problems, the officer looked at the time and ordered the disbandment. The pilots walked towards their landlines in groups of three or two, with each two corresponding to an ik-20 light bomber. Don't be confused by its technical numbers. This single-engine and biplane tactical bomber is not a product of the early 1920s. They have been in service since 1927. In just six years, it is younger than most of the day bombers equipped by the British Air Force. Its naval ship-based ik-20t has become famous overseas with outstanding performance and good cost-effectiveness. The total number of exports has reached more than 400. The land-based models are sold very little, mainly used to equip the Irish Air Force.
Chapter completed!