Chapter 535: Above the White Clouds
Hartmann’s cheers could not carry him out of the danger zone; his surroundings were still fraught with peril. But at this moment, he felt he could embrace the entire sky. Piloting this aircraft, he felt he could go anywhere he wanted.
In his hands, the plane was like a goshawk soaring through the sky, alive, a spirit dancing with elegant grace. The plane banked, avoiding the bullets fired by a Soviet aircraft to its side. Hartmann gently pressed the rudder pedals, and his plane rolled inverted.
The cockpit was now facing the ground. The belly of the German aircraft was painted a grayish-white, making it even more conspicuous when viewed from above. The German lead pilot, having just shaken off the two Soviet planes that were pursuing him, looked down and saw Hartmann’s inverted figure.
“What is he doing? An aerobatic performance?” The lead pilot had the urge to open the intercom and curse him out. But he didn’t. He was afraid that if he were to shout, it would disrupt the pilot’s judgment and cause a tragic accident.
Hartmann was now upside down. He was not just showing off by flying inverted. He continued to control the plane and actually began to climb while inverted. If viewed from a normal angle, he was actually performing an inverted dive. The difference was that after a normal dive, you can pull the plane up, but you cannot do so in an inverted dive.
The Soviet pilots seemed to be very experienced in low-altitude flying. They also knew that it was impossible for Hartmann to climb directly from such a flight attitude. He could only use a roll to return the plane to an upright position and then pull up to climb. So four Soviet planes split off, one to the left and one to the right, to block the German plane’s escape routes.
Although their speed was not as fast as the German plane’s, they could still just about manage to block his path in advance. After all, the pilots were flying improved American P-40 fighters. This batch of planes had just arrived at the front; otherwise, they would not have had the courage to take off and face the German fighter pilots.
However, Hartmann showed these Soviet pilots something new and let them know that there was still a gap between them and the German pilots. Hartmann’s plane suddenly plunged, performing a reverse Immelmann turn. The plane was like an eel, extremely slippery. Unexpectedly, it was about to break free from the encirclement of all the Soviet planes.
Because of its high speed, the Ta-152 looked as if it were about to crash into the ground, and a strange thought flashed through everyone’s mind: Has this plane had a malfunction? Is it about to crash?
Even the German lead was frightened by Hartmann’s flight attitude at this moment. Could Hartmann’s plane really have had a mechanical failure? It can’t be that unlucky, can it? Those ground crew are in for it now. A pilot who has been received by the Führer, to die like this from a mechanical failure, is a bit too pitiful.
Does the Führer just receive anyone? When the Führer was young, he met Guderian, and now he is the commander-in-chief of Army Group G. The Führer personally received that Rein Hardt, and now he is the army’s number two tank killer. The Führer has also met Prien, and this big brother has now sunk more British battleships than all the captains in German history combined…
The altimeter was a bit chaotic. Hartmann looked at his instrument panel as if he were looking at the instrument panel of a plane that was about to crash. The altimeter was constantly jumping, the numbers getting smaller and smaller, and the attitude indicator was shaking violently, showing that he was now performing a very dangerous maneuver.
But at this moment, an even more troublesome problem arose. Directly behind Hartmann, a Soviet plane had just pointed its nose at him. The most experienced of these Soviet pilots had accurately predicted the reverse Immelmann maneuver that Hartmann was about to perform.
Hartmann’s body was already pressed into his seat by the g-force. He looked up and saw the sky reappear above him, a confident smile on his face. As long as the sky was still there, he could fly. But following the appearance of the sky was an enemy plane that was diving and had its nose pointed at him.
Frowning, Hartmann, of course, knew what this meant. If he hesitated for another second, the opponent would pull the trigger and send the bullets from the weapons on his wings into his plane. He would fall headlong and would never be able to soar in the sky again.
Can’t fly? Impossible! In that split second, Hartmann gritted his teeth and once again yanked the control stick to the side, causing the plane to change its flight path again.
And just as Hartmann changed his flight path, the Soviet pilot opposite him also opened fire fiercely. The bullets whizzed past under Hartmann’s fuselage, miraculously not hitting the target! If Hartmann’s reaction had been just a tenth of a second slower, then he would now be crashing to the ground in a plume of smoke.
The crisis did not disappear with this evasion. On the contrary, the real crisis had only just begun. Although Hartmann had avoided the enemy’s bullets, he was still descending in his now-levelled aircraft. And at this time, the altimeter was already showing the less-than-ideal number of 2,700 meters.
Of course, the number on the altimeter was still changing: 2,600 meters, 2,500 meters. Almost every instant, Hartmann’s plane would lose 100 meters of altitude. And the Soviet planes, which had a smaller turning radius due to their slower speed, had already closed in from the distance, their momentum menacing, as if they would not rest until Hartmann was shot down.
After a side slip, Hartmann did not immediately pull up the plane. If he were to climb at this time, he would be right in the path of the Soviet fighters that were turning back to intercept him. At that point, he would still have them on his tail, and the situation would not be much better than it was now.
So he continued to accelerate his dive towards the ground in front of him, using his remaining altitude to increase his plane’s speed. But the light on the altimeter began to flash, and the altitude dropped from 2,000 meters to 1,900. It had to be said that this was no longer an ideal combat altitude for a Ta-152. To be precise, unless the Soviet planes were intentionally flying at this altitude, a German plane would not easily enter such an altitude for an air battle.
But now it had indeed happened. A German pilot had voluntarily descended to this altitude, an airspace that was mostly frequented by attack aircraft. And it seemed this German pilot was not yet satisfied, because he was still diving at high speed, losing altitude.
1,700 meters, 1,500 meters! 1,000 meters! The numbers on the altimeter reminded Hartmann how dangerous his altitude was now. But the increasingly distant Soviet planes behind him also proved how astonishing the speed of the German plane was. Just a little more! Just a little more! Hartmann chanted in his heart, his eyes glued to the rapidly approaching ground.
He could clearly see the farmland, the burning craters, the abandoned Soviet tanks, and the smoking houses. And at this time, the altimeter had already dropped to 500 meters. He could even hear his lead constantly calling for him to pull up, his voice panicked and somewhat hysterical.
Hartmann smiled. Although a flight altitude of 500 meters was already low enough for a German Air Force pilot, for him, a competitive pilot, it was at least enough for one more aerobatic maneuver. And at this time, the two Soviet planes that the lead had shaken off had just arrived in position and opened fire. Hartmann once again maneuvered his plane into a roll to evade.
“He’s trying to kill himself!” a Soviet pilot who had opened fire and watched the German plane roll to evade screamed in shock. Let alone the American P-40 he was flying, which had a much higher speed, even if he were flying the slower I-16, he would not dare to easily perform a maneuver at an altitude of 500 meters.
With the dive and the roll, Hartmann’s altitude had already dropped to 200 meters. As he rolled, he saw an even more beautiful scenery. He saw the grass and the abandoned trenches, saw the rolling hills approaching his cockpit at an incredible speed. Hartmann’s sky, as long as his feet were not on the ground, was all-inclusive!
He shouted loudly, and after the roll, he pulled up the plane. The Ta-152 responded just as nimbly. Just as it was about to hit the hills, it suddenly pulled its nose up, spewed a puff of light blue smoke, and, with its engine roaring, returned to the sky filled with white clouds.
The Soviet fighters’ pursuit had clearly not been effective. They had chased relentlessly from a distance, only to find their planes getting further and further away from their target. The German plane, after completing a series of complex flight maneuvers, was now slowly regaining its altitude. To get into such a good attack position again was no different from a fool’s dream.
Even if they were to do it again, who could guarantee that they would not be played by this German pilot with his exaggerated flight maneuvers once more? And while the Soviet planes were chasing this German wingman, the German fighter’s lead had already shot down another escorting Soviet plane, completing a beautiful attack.
With two new planes shot down, the Soviet planes no longer wanted to fight. They broke off contact with the German planes and began to scatter in the distance. This was not the first time they had fled in disarray. The Soviet pilots’ hearts had long since been free of any emotional barriers. They skillfully broke formation, so that even if the German pilots were to pursue, they would not be able to achieve a high kill count.
“Lead calling wingman! Lead calling wingman! Can you hear me? Can you hear me?” the lead’s voice came through the headset again, with a hint of fatigue and helplessness.
“I can hear you!” Hartmann knew that he might have gone a bit too far this time. He gave a wry smile and replied through the intercom.
“Return to base! I’ll deal with you when we get back!” the lead said angrily.
Published: 2025-09-03T02:38:52.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-12-15T16:01:47.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c535-above-137999851
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