Chapter 686: Broke Through

The battle in the sky was still raging on. The American bomber group, relying on its thick-skinned advantage, was gradually approaching its not-so-distant target—the oil field facilities in Romania.

The unexpected addition of the Soviet bomber group had indeed bought time for the American bombers and had also once again put a strain on the Germans’ ammunition supply. After all, pilots as skilled as Hartmann were not numerous on the entire Eastern Front. Most were at the level of a normal ace pilot, so most German fighters did not deliberately conserve ammunition when attacking.

In fact, under normal circumstances, for a fighter to shoot down a large bomber like a B-17 with half its ammunition would already be considered a very good performance. Of course, the German fighter pilots had already developed the good combat habit of conserving ammunition, so their results were better. But they could still only guarantee shooting down one American plane with 15 to 25 cannon shells. Before a plane ran out of ammunition, it could only shoot down about three aircraft.

This was why, even after fighting for so long, many American planes had still not been shot down. The B-17 bomber was simply too sturdy. In another timeline that Akado knew, it was common for a B-17 to be riddled with holes by German fighters and still be able to limp back to its base in Britain. It could be said that this plane was on the same level as a tank in the sky; it would not easily crash.

If it weren’t for Akado’s foresight, having equipped Germany with large-caliber aerial cannons and pilots accustomed to using them in advance, one only needed to look at the bombed-out Romania of another timeline to know what today’s interception mission would have turned into.

“Stop engaging these bombers! All units, disengage from these bombers! If we continue to get entangled, they will enter the airspace over the chemical plant complex! Disengage! Disengage! Reform! Reform at an altitude of 11,000 meters! Quick!” The latest operational instructions came through the headsets of the German pilots.

“Disengage? Are you kidding me? We fired all our rockets just to break up their formation. Now we’re disengaging and letting them reform? If we have to fight them a second time, they’ll be in the oil field area!” an ace pilot who had just circled around an American bomber grumbled, questioning the order.

But most of the other pilots immediately flew their planes away from the American bomber formation and towards the designated airspace not far away, where they would assemble into a new fighter formation to prepare for a second dive attack on the American bomber group.

With deep reluctance and regret, the German pilots all chose to obey the order. They flew their planes and began to reassemble not far away. At this time, the American bombers also began to adjust their formation and re-establish their defensive system.

Unfortunately, only three of the escorting P-40 fighters were left, flying pitifully among the B-17s. As for who was protecting whom, it was impossible to say.

“Why are we retreating? Who’s in command?” a major, a squadron leader, finally found his men in the high-altitude formation. He had joined the battle with only one wingman earlier. Now he saw that two planes were missing from his unit; they were likely two of the unlucky ones among the dozen or so planes that had just been shot down.

A slightly deep voice came through the headset, a voice that almost all the pilots could recognize: “This is Kesselring. I gave the order to reform! Execute it immediately!”

After this delay, the German ground forces had prepared to welcome these uninvited guests. The mobile anti-aircraft units deployed on the railways and roads had moved into their firing sectors. The 88mm cannons had raised their long barrels high, pointing at the sky, ready to greet the enemies from afar at any moment.

These anti-aircraft guns had become famous in North Africa for their anti-tank capabilities and were called the best weapon in the Germans’ hands by Patton. These cannons often appeared where they were needed and achieved beautiful victories with their outstanding performance.

Less than a minute after the German planes had disengaged from the American bomber formation, the anti-aircraft fire that the Germans had deployed on the ground suddenly opened up. The radar-guided anti-aircraft units showed an unparalleled destructive power, letting these American pilots who had come from afar see what it truly meant to go from the frying pan into the fire.

Although they did not have the super-invention of the radio proximity fuze, because the function of the radar had been very well developed, the altitude and speed of the American planes had been easily calculated. The shells used by these ground-based anti-aircraft guns were all set to a pre-determined detonation altitude before firing. Their accuracy was definitely not much lower than that of proximity-fuzed shells.

Before the American pilots could even let out a sigh of relief and relax their tense emotions, a rain of artillery shells flew towards them. The American planes, which had just formed up, were once again baptized by a storm. Their planes were riddled with holes by the exploding shrapnel. Many gunners were hit by shrapnel and died at their combat posts.

“Jack! I don’t think we can complete the planned mission anymore. Even if we can start dropping bombs now, the Germans won’t suffer much loss. The remaining number of bombers is not enough to completely paralyze an oil field,” the frontline commander of the U.S. Army Air Corps bomber force, Powell, said with some dejection, looking at the fragmented bomber formation. “You take the damaged planes and start heading back immediately.”

The man called Jack was the frontline commander of the fighter force. Most of his men had already been shot down by German planes. Now only he, his wingman, and one ace pilot born from the North African air battles were left. He sighed and said, “It’s too late! Even if we turn around now, there’s no chance of flying back. You know how fast those German planes are.”

“My rank is higher than yours. I order you to escort the two damaged B-17s out of here! Now, immediately!” Powell, the bomber pilot, said firmly. “Return to base immediately!”

“…” Silence, a suffocating silence once again. Jack knew this was the last chance for escape his old friend Powell was giving him. This was already a battle with no hope of survival, so there was no need to incur some insignificant losses. In the end, Jack glanced at the hail of bullets outside his cockpit, gave a bitter smile, and banked his control stick to the left, giving the combat order he was most reluctant to give: “Return to base!”

The three fighters and the five lightly damaged B-17s broke away from the main formation and fled in another direction. The German fighter groups, busy intercepting the American bombers and preventing them from entering the oil field airspace, had no intention of chasing after deserters. Almost as if by a tacit understanding, they let the few fleeing American planes go.

However, after two rounds of fierce anti-aircraft fire, the American bomber force was also on the verge of collapse. Only a pitiful 49 were left, and most of them had holes in their fuselages and wings. The worst off was one plane whose dorsal turret had been smashed by a shell. The body of the pilot inside was still swinging back and forth in his seat, a terrifying sight.

There were bombers in better condition here, and also some that were so damaged they could no longer fly back. These American bomber pilots were ready to sacrifice themselves in this foreign land, to do their utmost for the future of their country.

In such a situation, in the midst of a fierce battle, even a coward would be inspired to fight with the greatest courage. All the American gunners were on high alert. The bombers had accelerated towards their targets, ignoring the friendly planes that were hit and falling in a trail of smoke.

“God bless America! We can’t get any closer to the target! Open the bomb bay doors! Begin dropping!” Seeing his planes continuously being shot down, and the German fighters overhead already beginning their dive attacks, their losses were getting bigger and bigger. Seeing that they could not hold on until they were over the real target, Powell finally gave the order to attack. His voice was filled with a tragic grandeur, as if he had already made up his mind to fight a battle with these pilots from which there would be no return.

With the sound of grinding machinery, the American bombers finally bared their ferocious fangs. After they were ready, under the shocked eyes of the German pilots, one heavy bomb after another left the bomb bays of the B-17s, pulled down by gravity. This was the first time the Allies had dropped bombs in a heavily defended German air defense zone.

“Just a little bit more! These bombs won’t reach the designated bombing target! We have to keep flying forward!” the bombardier said with some regret, looking at his sight. “If we just fly for a few more minutes, we can hit those factories accurately!”

“Hold steady! I’m losing altitude! Even if I die, I’m going to drop these bombs on the Germans’ heads!” Powell said through clenched teeth. “Bail out approved! Those who want to leave can leave now! Good luck to you!”

In the binoculars of a German ground observation officer, an American plane was charging straight towards a chemical factory that the Germans had set up in Romania, propelled by inertia. No matter how much ammunition the fighters poured into it, the plane still charged towards that factory building.

This was the persistence and dedication of a bomber pilot. This was the faith and courage of an American. Not a single crew member chose to bail out early. They held their combat posts until the very last second! In the end, the American attack was indeed effective. Their plane crashed through the factory’s courtyard wall and destroyed a corner of a warehouse. A huge fire raged. The multi-layered Romanian air defense system of the German Air Force had finally been breached by the Americans, at least in name.

Published: 2025-09-18T11:07:14.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-02-27T18:42:21.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c686-broke-139175537

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