Chapter 544: Top Gun

With the dive, the sight in front of Hartmann’s cockpit locked onto a Soviet plane that was part of the group attacking the squadron commander’s aircraft. The crosshairs of the sight were centered on the plane’s cockpit. Although it swayed left and right with the plane’s adjustments, Hartmann steadily adjusted his own flight angle, keeping the Soviet plane pinned by the markings on his sight.

He did not fire immediately, as if he felt he had no confidence in hitting the Soviet plane, which was still unaware that it had become prey, from such a distance. He closed the distance at high speed, and in an instant, the two planes went from being over two thousand meters apart to only three or four hundred.

Hartmann gently squeezed the trigger, letting the hub-mounted cannon roar. However, because he had only touched the firing mechanism for an instant, the cannon only fired two rounds.

This was a classic burst fire. Two 30mm cannon shells tore through the air. One went into the front engine compartment of the American-made P-40 fighter, and the other hit the part where the side of the plane’s cockpit connected to the wing.

It was the most economical attack in terms of ammunition, and also the most effective. Perhaps Hartmann’s luck was really very good, or perhaps the pilot in that plane had really bad luck. One of the two shells had damaged the P-40’s engine, causing the plane to immediately start spewing black smoke. The other had pierced the wing, damaging the flap control mechanism.

In just a single, short pass, Hartmann, firing for the first time in the air, had shot down an enemy plane. And the process of the shootdown could be described as extremely skilled, not at all like a novice who had just started to fly in combat.

Just when everyone thought that Hartmann’s plane would, like other diving German aircraft, fly past the Soviet plane and then pull up to climb, a jaw-dropping scene occurred. The Soviet pilots at this moment seemed to have forgotten to breathe, just mechanically raising their heads to watch the German plane with the black nose perform in the sky above them.

Hartmann kicked his rudder pedals, controlling the plane’s flaps to adjust its position. The plane he was controlling then began a somewhat clumsy roll. The roll of the Ta-152 was not smooth, which also caused the plane to lose some speed once it entered the maneuver.

Thus, the speed of Hartmann’s dive slowed. What was even more terrifying was that, taking advantage of this momentary slowdown, Hartmann had actually pointed his nose at another Soviet plane—this one was flying behind the one that had just crashed, clearly its wingman.

The pilot in that Soviet wingman’s plane was already stunned by the German plane’s violent maneuvers. He watched in terror as the enemy aircraft closed to a terrifyingly close distance. He even felt that he could see the rivets on the enemy plane, could hear the roar of its engine.

But what terrified him even more was that the enemy’s nose was spitting fire, and the tracer rounds were drawing straight lines towards him. In the next instant, the glass of his cockpit was shattered, and then he knew no more.

Was this a dream? Firing while rolling, and still being able to accurately hit the enemy plane? While everyone’s brain was clearly starting to run out of memory, Hartmann’s plane brushed past the fireball formed by the exploding Soviet plane, its wingtip even cutting through the rising flames, leaving a trail of light smoke.

After flying past the Soviet fighter formation, Hartmann once again adopted an inverted flight posture. Then, as his altitude decreased, he performed another reverse Immelmann turn and, not far away, leveled his plane out.

He did not immediately climb but, while gaining altitude, turned back in a wide circle. At this time, the several Soviet planes had not yet come to their senses. They still wanted to take out the German plane that was trapped in their encirclement and had some unknown malfunction.

The German planes’ attack method had been to rely on a high-speed dive to get close, hit once, and then run. This tactic could be said to be roguish, but because of the speed difference between the two sides’ aircraft, the Soviet pilots had almost no good way to deal with it. But who could have imagined that the German plane that had just shown off its flying skills had not climbed but had come back in level flight?

A dive attack followed by a climb, although a roguish and effective tactic, had the disadvantage of not being sustainable. After one attack, it would take a long time to prepare for a second. That was why these Soviet planes had dared to continue to surround the squadron commander’s malfunctioning aircraft. No one had expected that this German plane would not follow the usual pattern and climb.

At this moment, Hartmann had already latched onto another Soviet plane. If the Soviet planes were a school of fish, then the Ta-152 that Hartmann was flying was a black shark swimming on the outside. Of course, a black shark is meant to eat people, and Hartmann was at this very moment on a killing spree.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Another short burst of fire. Every one of Hartmann’s shells seemed to be priceless. He did not fire easily, and every time he did, it was very brief. But because he was very close to his target, the three cannon shells accurately drilled into the Soviet plane from the tail.

Seeing the enemy’s tail begin to spew black smoke, Hartmann knew that the 30mm shells had already inflicted fatal damage on the enemy plane. So he did not pause but immediately pulled up, pointing the nose of his plane towards the azure sky. The blue sky and white clouds seemed to be embracing him. This was his domain, his world.

In a short period of less than two minutes, Hartmann had already shot down three Soviet planes. The shock this brought to his heart was no less than that of his opponents. He could feel his whole body trembling slightly; he could feel his own excitement.

The competitive spirit that was deeply buried in his bones was ignited once again. At this moment, he felt that shooting down an opponent in the sky was even more exciting than rushing towards the finish line. Hartmann’s heart was singing. He could almost feel his pores dilating, the adrenaline sharpening all his senses. He loved the feeling of this moment. He now knew that a real battlefield was even more exciting, even more satisfying than a competition.

“Yooo… hooo! Oh!” Hartmann let out a long cry that reflected his mood. He pulled his plane into a steep climb, but he did not climb high to escape his opponents. Instead, he did a loop and came back at top speed. He was unwilling to waste a single second he had in the sky. He wanted to save time to experience this flight that was driving him wild.

Closing the distance again, the Soviet pilots also finally knew that if they continued to get entangled with that malfunctioning German plane, they would all be shot down here before long. So two Soviet planes broke off from the formation and flew towards the distant Hartmann.

“Hold on, Squadron Commander! I’m coming!” Hartmann shouted into the communicator. Then he saw two Soviet planes, firing as they charged towards him. A confident smile appeared on his lips, because he believed in his own flying skills, believed that under this sky, no one could challenge his authority. He was the god of this domain, an undefeated god.

He gently pulled on the control stick, making the plane climb slightly, avoiding the cannon shells from the oncoming Soviet planes. Then, without leveling out, he immediately put the plane into a dive and came back down to the altitude of the two Soviet planes. His plane was faster, and its dive and climb were more agile. The two Soviet planes, one after the other, had not even had time to adjust their angle before they discovered that their opponent had already returned to the same plane.

Hartmann was here to save people. His main purpose was to help the squadron commander escape the encirclement of the Soviet planes, so he was in no hurry to eliminate the two Soviet planes that were interfering with him. Instead, he used his speed and altitude difference to shake off his opponents and charged head-on towards the more distant Soviet formation.

“Careful! Careful! He’s broken through us! He’s heading your way!” a Soviet pilot shouted a warning to his comrades, because he saw that the black-nosed German plane had already roared past under his own plane, and without looking back, was charging towards the Soviet formation behind him.

However, his warning clearly had no effect. Just a few dozen seconds later, a Soviet plane was trailing a long plume of black smoke as it fell from the sky. And at that moment, the German plane that had been trapped in the encirclement was completely out of danger. Because beside it, a German plane, like a black god of death, was glinting strangely in the sun, making the surrounding Soviet planes shudder.

The two German planes began to regain altitude. Before long, they had reached 8,000 meters, which was relatively safe. The squadron commander also took the opportunity to get his cockpit in order. But then he heard Hartmann’s voice in his headset, a voice that filled his face with irrepressible joy.

“Squadron Commander! I’m going down to take out all these Soviets, and then I’ll escort you back!” Hartmann said, then gently pushed his control stick, putting the plane into a very gentle dive.

Of the twelve Soviet fighters in total, four had already been shot down by Hartmann. Of the remaining planes, apart from the two I-16s circling at low altitude, which had no ability to intervene in the battle, there were only six Soviet fighters left that could engage Hartmann. It seemed they were unwilling to give up the opportunity of a lone German fighter and wanted to try to shoot down this plane with their six aircraft.

Turning on the engine’s afterburner, the Ta-152’s engine roared even more cheerfully, and its speed increased again. Hartmann charged, without a second thought, towards the oncoming Soviet planes.

Looking at the departing wingman, a phrase used to describe pilots suddenly came to the squadron commander’s mind: Top Gun!

Published: 2025-09-04T04:06:59.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-12-20T08:50:44.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c544-top-gun-138089456

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