Chapter 543: Flying with Elegance
“Squadron Commander, are you sure you want to fly with that kid? Last time…” a pilot asked, looking with some concern at Hartmann, who was checking the buckle on his parachute in the distance.
“What then? You take him?” the squadron commander asked his subordinate with a smile.
“Forget it. I hear flying with him can really give you a heart attack,” the pilot said, quickly waving his hands. “This kind of high-level pilot, it’s better for you, Squadron Commander, to personally take him up.”
The squadron commander smiled, then, with the help of the ground crew, began to climb onto the latest Ta-152 fighter. A ground crew member was checking the various instrument switches on the plane.
“The radar shows enemy aircraft on patrol here, two of them. This is not normal. The Soviets haven’t sent out two-plane formations for combat patrols in a long time. It could be a bait,” an intelligence officer from the squadron said, standing under the plane and describing the battlefield situation to the squadron commander, who was now settling into the cockpit.
“So you’re saying, all we have to do is drive these two planes out of the airspace, and then we can return to base, right?” the squadron commander asked with a nod. “This mission isn’t too difficult. It’s very suitable for our configuration this time.”
The fighter configurations were all the same, so what the squadron commander was actually talking about this time was the pilot inside the plane. Taking the pilot Hartmann, who had performed poorly on his first mission, on what was originally a boring patrol mission, was indeed a “suitable mission” configuration.
Over on the other side, Hartmann was already in his cockpit. After closing the canopy, he even made a funny face at the squadron commander not far away. Hartmann held up one hand and made an exaggerated gesture, indicating that he would definitely get a kill this time.
“Black 1, do you hear my call? Black 1! This is Red 1,” the squadron commander called his wingman on the intercom. Hartmann’s voice quickly came back: “This is Black 1, Squadron Commander. I can hear you.”
“The wind is from the north, everything is normal. I’m preparing for takeoff. You follow me,” the squadron commander said to Hartmann after checking his instrument panel. He then contacted the tower. “Red 1 and Black 1 request permission to take off.”
A female air traffic controller in the tower replied, her voice somewhat sweet, “Squadron Commander, all normal. The runway is ready. You are cleared for takeoff!”
The two Ta-152 fighters, one after the other, immediately began to taxi on the runway. With the roar of their engines and the constantly increasing speed, the landing gear of the two fighters seemed to become lighter and lighter. The hydraulic struts began to extend, and finally, with a slight sound, the wheels of the two planes left the ground, and the aircraft took to the air.
“Climbing. Let the ground radar get a lock on our position,” the squadron commander said, retracting his landing gear and adjusting the plane’s attitude. He then opened the intercom and said to Hartmann, “We’ll set our altitude at 10,000 meters for now. Maintain your position relative to me.”
“Hartmann understands!” the young Hartmann immediately replied from the wingman’s plane. He carefully controlled his aircraft and found that he was not as nervous as the first time. He even felt a little bit of anticipation for what would happen next.
Soon, the ground radar station responded. They were guided by the control tower towards the unidentified target. The ground guidance was like an extra-long-range eye for the pilots, accurately sending the planes to where they needed to be.
With radar guidance, the previously boring and aimless patrol flights in the sky became planned interceptions and ambushes, which not only saved fuel but also meant that the fighter pilots did not have to spend a long time in the air. Of course, another advantage was obvious: the German fighters could find a better and more concealed position in advance, gaining an important first-strike advantage for their first attack.
The two German planes thus quickly approached the slowly flying Soviet fighters and, from above them, silently locked onto their prey. It turned out that they were two old I-16 fighters. For the German army, this kind of target was incredibly vulnerable.
“Red 1, Red 1! This is ground control! This is ground control! The radar shows that on the rear flank of these two Soviet fighters, there are 10 faster planes at an altitude of about 8,000 meters. Can you see them?” a voice suddenly came from the ground control. It seemed this was a trap dug for the German Air Force by the Soviet troops. The purpose was likely to lure the German planes to a lower altitude and then find an opportunity to fight.
Ever since the Red Air Force had lost air superiority on the Eastern Front, the brave Soviet pilots had begun to use this method to lure the less-experienced German pilots into an engagement. Eight out of ten times, it had ended in failure, but the Soviet Air Force still tirelessly used this clumsy trick.
The reason was very simple: this trick at least gave them a chance to shoot down a German plane. If they didn’t use this luring tactic, it was very likely that the kill count of the Red Air Force pilots would be even lower than it was now. And so this method of killing 200 of the enemy at the cost of 1,000 of their own was still being used by the Soviet pilots to this day.
“Should we attack?” Hartmann asked, having heard the conversation between his lead and the ground control. He was searching for the enemy aircraft in the direction indicated by the tower.
“Of course!” the squadron commander replied immediately. “It’s just 12 enemy planes… What about you? Any problems?”
“Sir! I should have no problem,” Hartmann said, glancing at his altimeter. At this moment, the altitude of their two planes had not changed, and in the direction provided by the radar, the ten Soviet fighters could already be seen.
“You guys just don’t learn! Prepare for a dive attack. We’ll disrupt their formation first and then look for an opportunity,” the squadron commander said. As he spoke, he was already putting his own plane into a dive. The engine roared, spewing a puff of light blue mist. The Ta-152 suddenly reached its extreme speed of 700 km/h, and the distance between the two sides closed at an extremely fast rate.
Hartmann also accelerated his engine and followed the squadron commander’s plane. He stuck close behind his lead, feeling the slight vibration of the aircraft at such a high speed.
“Open fire!” the lead gave the order to attack and at the same time spat a brilliant tongue of fire. The cannon shells fired from the Ta-152’s hub-mounted cannon accurately hit a Soviet fighter. To hit a target at this range, the squadron commander was indeed a super ace with 51 kills to his name.
But at this moment, a problem suddenly arose. The lead’s fuselage shook slightly, and then a light puff of smoke came from the engine. Hartmann, of course, knew what was happening. It was a sign that the engine was having problems in mid-air.
“Squadron Commander! I see smoke coming from your plane! Pull up! Pull up! The enemy is evading. Don’t lose any more altitude,” Hartmann shouted a warning to his lead in the communicator. “Pull up! Return to an altitude of over 8,000 meters! Squadron Commander, can you see your instrument panel?”
“I can’t see clearly. The plane is full of smoke. I’m trying to level my plane. My God! You return to base immediately! I’m probably going to be shot down,” the squadron commander’s voice came through the headset, intermittently. It was clear that his vision was very poor now, and the engine failure could not be fixed in a short time.
Hartmann was stunned. If he were to return to base now, he would never be able to shake off the label of being a jinx. He gritted his teeth and said fiercely, “Lead, you do your best to gain altitude. I’ll cover you!”
At this moment, the Soviet planes, which had been busy dodging the German fighter’s fire, saw that the German plane was in trouble. At first, they thought it was some new weapon on the German plane and did not rush up to die. After all, the fearsome reputation of the Ta-152 was already well-known on the Eastern Front, and at this moment, it really had scared these Soviet pilots.
But in the end, the Soviet pilots still discovered that the German plane was indeed in trouble. They rushed up and began to close in on the German fighter. At that moment, for some godforsaken reason, the thick smoke from the squadron commander’s Ta-152 disappeared. The automatic fire extinguisher had begun to work, and the squadron commander once again regained control of his plane.
“You’re surrounded… Squadron Commander! I’ll tear an opening for you from the left side. Maintain your heading and turn right on my command!” Hartmann said, urgently reminding his squadron commander while he accelerated his plane into a dive to catch up.
“…” Misfortune loves company. At this moment, the squadron commander discovered that in his panic, he had fired off all the ammunition for his three cannons. He was now completely a spectator in this air battle. Or rather, he was now a complete burden.
“Hartmann! Pull up and disengage from the battle. I order you to return to base,” the squadron commander said, trying to fly his plane as smoothly as possible as he gave the order to Hartmann. “This is over Soviet-controlled territory. If we are both shot down, we will be completely finished!”
“That’s why I have to get you back, Squadron Commander!” Hartmann said calmly to his superior, piloting his plane. “Just like you brought me out here! We both have to fly back together!”
As he spoke, he gently rocked his control stick, and the plane responded nimbly in the clouds. Hartmann’s youthful face was filled with a solemn expression. This was his first time facing an air battle, the first time facing a flight that was no longer elegant.
At this moment, the sky was no longer azure blue, but filled with blood. The freedom and lightness of flight seemed not to exist here. Hartmann muttered in a low voice, “Let me teach you all how to fly with elegance!”
Published: 2025-09-04T04:06:16.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-12-18T18:18:10.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c543-flying-138089274
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