Chapter 681: The Faith of Flight
Just as Kesselring was vowing to ensure the absolute security of the Romanian oil fields, the American flanking attack force had already flown past the Crimean Peninsula and was about to enter Romanian territory. They were growing more and more confident in this raid, as they were getting closer and closer to their target.
However, no one in this force had noticed that high above them, two German fighter planes had quietly approached this massive American bomber force. These two planes were Germany’s most advanced Ta-152 fighters. The lead plane had a black tulip painted on its nose.
In fact, after escorting the German strategic bomber force on a bombing run over the Crimean Peninsula last time, Hartmann’s squadron had been stationed nearby for rest and refit. This airspace had been temporarily assigned to this squadron for patrol. Although it was not a primary airspace and the Soviet aircraft on the Crimean Peninsula had been almost completely wiped out, their squadron was not equipped with high-powered surveillance radar for support. However, routine patrols over the battlefield were still a daily necessity. And as it happened, the two planes on patrol duty on this day were rather special.
“Hartmann, are you really planning to attack now? The fighter units from the frontline base have already taken off. They’ll be here soon. We can wait for them to arrive and attack together. It would be safer that way,” the pilot of the wingman’s plane, who was actually Hartmann’s squadron leader, said. His piloting skills were top-notch, and he was known for being steady and cautious in his approach to problems.
“I want to try!” Hartmann’s voice came through the headset, with a hint of gravity. The squadron leader, of course, knew why Hartmann wanted to attack the huge enemy formation alone. Ever since that escort mission to bomb the Crimean Peninsula, he had not been very friendly towards large bomber formations.
For Hartmann, who advocated for free flight and used elegant and perfect maneuvers to shoot down his opponents, the dense flight formation of the bombers was utterly devoid of beauty and even had a certain heavy, clunky quality. This, from another extreme, subverted Hartmann’s understanding of the word “flight,” making him restless. He was eager to prove that his way of flying was the most perfect and powerful, and for him, the best proof was to challenge a bomber formation.
“The enemy has a lot of escort fighters. We won’t have much of a chance if we charge in. Let’s try to interfere from the periphery. Engage the fuel booster and afterburner, let them know we’re here,” the squadron leader, who had always been very supportive of Hartmann’s opinions, said. In his official capacity, he was the squadron leader, but once they took off, he always placed himself in the role of the wingman. Hartmann had also gotten used to having a squadron leader as his wingman. The two of them had created a terrifying combat record, shooting down a hundred times their own number.
“Alright! I’m starting my dive!” Without the slightest hesitation, Hartmann gently pushed his control stick. The long nose of the agile Ta-152 fighter began to dip slightly downwards. The flaps on its slender wings were also adjusted to a subtle angle. The incredibly powerful piston engine began to emit a pleasant roar, the plane’s speed gradually increased, and a strong G-force pressed Hartmann firmly against the back of his seat.
The Ta-152 began to dive and accelerate. The plane’s speedometer showed its current speed was approaching 690 kilometers per hour. This speed was still a patent of the German Air Force; very few aircraft in the world could reach this terrifying number. Moreover, this speed was not the limit of this aircraft; it was still accelerating, constantly accelerating.
When the distance was close enough, the fighter escort of the American bomber formation’s outer screen immediately spotted the two German fighters, which were spraying a faint blue gas from behind them. But their reaction was clearly a step too slow. In the minds of the American pilots, no aircraft could fly at the speed of the two German planes in front of them.
“Hey! My God! Those two German planes are too fast!” a pilot of an American P-40 fighter shouted in surprise, looking at the two German fighters gradually approaching in the distance.
“Prepare to engage! Prepare to engage! Don’t let them get close to the bomber formation! Enemy aircraft approaching! Battle stations!” The commander of the American escort fighter formation was clearly in no mood to carefully observe the performance of the German fighters. He was more concerned with how to stop them from getting close to the bomber group he was protecting, and how to use their numerical advantage to take down the enemy.
Soon, a dozen American planes adjusted their flight attitudes, seemingly preparing to break away from the formation to stop the German fighters from approaching. But they had clearly underestimated the performance advantage of the German aircraft. Before they were ready, the enemy fighters had already closed the distance to a sufficient range.
“Have a taste of this!” Hartmann showed the enemy fighters no mercy. Relying on the range advantage of his nose-mounted 30mm cannon, he fired a three-round burst at the massive bomber formation from a very long distance.
Under everyone’s astonished gaze, the three cannon shells flew in an almost straight line towards a B-17 in the formation, instantly punching three basketball-sized holes in its fuselage. Before most people could react, the two German planes, with their terrifying speed, had already flown away in a beautiful arc across the sky.
When the American pilots saw the B-17 trailing black smoke and losing altitude, they knew that the enemy’s air combat skills were not on the same level as theirs. The enemy completely understood the performance of the weapons in his hands and had almost reached a state of perfect harmony between man and machine. To be able to complete an attack and disengage in an instant at such an extreme range was definitely not something that could be achieved through training alone.
Of course, at this time, no American pilot had seen the thirteen kill markings, representing tens of kills, under the glass of the German plane’s cockpit. If they had known from the start that they were facing Germany’s number one ace fighter pilot, one wonders if they would have cried with joy, celebrating their heaven-defying shitty luck.
For a full three years, for a full three years, the German pilots had not understood why, when the enemy was using 7.7mm machine guns, the Führer had forced the engineers to stuff a 30mm cannon into their planes. When the enemy had a full 300 or even 500 rounds of ammunition, the German pilots had to be extremely careful with the pitiful 60 cannon shells in their fighters.
But the pilots of the German Air Force had persevered. They had mastered the art of conserving ammunition and, relying on this somewhat overly advanced firepower, had achieved a terrifying combat record. Now, this endurance and bewilderment vanished in a flash from Hartmann’s mind. This large-caliber cannon had finally shown its proper use at this moment, and it also made Hartmann understand Akado’s painstaking efforts.
It turned out that the Führer had been, without their knowing, imperceptibly cultivating the German Air Force’s ability to intercept enemy strategic bombers. It turned out that the formation flight of hundreds of strategic bombers, which blotted out the sun, was not an iron plate, nor was it impregnable.
Just as Hartmann was circling around the American bomber formation and singing the praises of the Führer’s foresight in his heart, the American escort fighter pilots were filled with tears. Their P-40s, with enhanced and improved engines, had been produced to deal with the Japanese Zero. Their overall performance was not bad, but to deal with the nimble and fragile Zero, this P-40 was armed with six 12.7mm machine guns. Its firepower density and sustained fire were excellent, but in terms of range and destructive power, it could not be compared with the Germans’ 30mm and 20mm cannons.
The damn German planes clearly knew they were at a numerical disadvantage and would run into trouble if they charged into the American escort fighter formation. So they cautiously chose the tactic of long-range, harassing fire. This had precisely exposed the American planes’ range disadvantage. The enemy had already made a full circle, and they hadn’t even had a chance to open fire.
At this time, the U.S. Army Air Corps fighter units had not yet invented the tactic of detaching from the escort formation and waiting at a higher altitude to launch a second wave of attacks. They were still using the relatively backward tactic of close escort, and could only launch an effective attack when the enemy fighters were relatively close to their own bomber units.
After all, the more advanced high-altitude standby tactic was an effective tactic based on a numerical advantage in the bomber group, and on the fact that one’s own fighters were faster and could dive more promptly. If the Americans were to forcefully use the “secondary entry” style of a higher-altitude, independent escort formation at this time, the only possible result would be to watch helplessly as the faster German planes attacked the bomber formation and then flew away.
“Everyone else, maintain altitude and speed and continue flying. The 11 planes of the 2nd Squadron will break away from the formation with me and form a protective screen on the periphery. The enemy only has two planes, don’t panic!” the American commander ordered. He then flew his own plane out of the dense bomber formation.
Seeing the enemy fighters increase their speed and form up not far away, a smile appeared on Hartmann’s lips. “They’ve detached from the bomber formation!” It was no wonder he smiled. For him, a dozen fighters, in terms of numbers, were still just a flock of sheep in the eyes of a wolf, just prey.
Published: 2025-09-18T11:03:13.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-02-21T20:05:20.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c681-faith-139175320
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