Chapter 791: Slap in the Face

The bloody battle for Kharkov had turned the city into a pile of ruins, making it unusable for the occupying German forces as a strategic pivot point for a short period of time. This could be considered a strategic victory for the Soviet Union. But to the south of Kharkov, the German army had taken the equally important city of Donetsk with almost no resistance, which was a bitter pill for the Soviets to swallow.

The main purpose of a war is not to capture a city and turn it into ruins, but to utilize that city, including its stockpiled supplies, and its nearby facilities like airfields and train stations. This is the ultimate goal of capturing a city. A pile of rubble is of little use to anyone.

The nearly intact city of Donetsk falling into German hands not only provided the German army with a good strategic pivot point but also offered many other conveniences. For example, a dozen or so field airfields, dense as a forest, had fallen into German hands just like that.

Soon, “Butcher” bombers, taking off from large airfields within Ukraine, flew over these originally Soviet field airfields in a sky-blotting swarm. These huge bombers, after more than a year of accumulation, had exceeded a thousand in number, although it was generally impossible to sortie such a massive number at once.

However, the German army already had experience in commanding super-large formations of about 500 aircraft for bombing raids. So, for the commanders of the German Air Force, taking off with a few hundred planes to bomb the enemy was just another routine mission.

In the sky above, one after another, the “Butcher” bombers blotted out the sun, as dense as a swarm of locusts. Carrying their heavy bomb loads, these planes flew at an altitude of ten thousand meters, clumsy yet awe-inspiring.

Yes, awe-inspiring! Under the bellies of the hundreds of planes, the 30mm and 20mm cannons, as dense as a forest, pointed menacingly towards their designated alert positions. It was estimated that if any enemy dared to approach, they would be met with a rain of dense attacks.

“Take off!” On the ground at the field airfield, at the command of the ground crew, a hundred fighter planes, responsible for escorting these bombers, began to spin the propellers on their noses. The roar of the engines drowned out all other sounds. One after another, the Fw-190D fighters charged down the runway and climbed rapidly into the high sky.

“Take off!” In a more distant field airfield, a squadron of the more advanced Ta-152 fighters was also taking off at top speed. They were to form up in a higher airspace, responsible for covering the top of the entire bomber formation and for annihilating any Soviet fighters that dared to take off and engage.

“Hartmann! This isn’t a combat patrol, nor is it an interception mission. Are you sure you want to participate?” the squadron leader asked, standing by a plane with a black tulip painted on its nose, looking up at the pilot who was checking his aircraft in the cockpit.

Hartmann, with his head of blond hair, looked up from the cockpit and nodded to the squadron leader. “Ever since I last intercepted the American bombers, I no longer have any prejudice against bomber formations. Whether it’s a heavy flight or an agile one, it’s still flying. Right?”

“It seems you’ve figured it out. I have nothing more to worry about then. I’m going to start my plane and take off behind you,” the squadron leader said with a smile. He then put his leather cap on his head, made a gesture of invitation, and then walked quickly to his own plane.

One after another, the Ta-152 fighters began to take off. These advanced fighters, which had been a secret weapon half a year ago and had been issued to some of the ace units on the front as experimental aircraft, were now a common sight in the Third Reich’s air force, a standard configuration.

The Soviet anti-aircraft gun positions in the entire Caucasus region were actually very numerous, but these anti-aircraft guns were scattered over an extremely vast area and were not used in a concentrated manner. And most of these anti-aircraft guns were arranged in the important mineral-producing areas, such as the Baku oil fields, the Stavropol natural gas fields, the Chiatura manganese mines, and the Armenian copper mines. Only a part of them were deployed in the direction of Stalingrad.

Unfortunately, this time the German strategic bombing was precisely aimed at Stalingrad. 573 “Butcher” strategic bombers, escorted by 110 fighters, swept aggressively over the Red Army’s defense line.

“Woooo… woooo…!” The piercing sound of the air-raid siren wailed over the Soviet frontline positions. The Soviet soldiers in their trenches looked up in despair at the darkened sky. There, one after another, the German planes were like a dark cloud, covering the entire sky.

“Hello! Is this the anti-aircraft gun position? Is this the anti-aircraft gun position? Yes, this is the commander of the 194th Infantry Division on the front line. I request that you do not open fire easily. If the other side returns fire, we will be in a lot of trouble over here,” a commander said into the phone, requesting that his friendly forces not open fire rashly in this situation. If these bombers changed their objective and dropped their bombs on the front line, it could be a disaster for anyone there.

“Are you an idiot? We only have 37mm anti-aircraft guns here. We can’t do anything against enemy planes flying at an altitude of over ten thousand meters,” the commander of the artillery position on the other end of the line replied in an unfriendly tone. He was clearly annoyed that he couldn’t open fire.

After speaking, he hung up the phone without waiting for the commander on the infantry position to say anything more. He then turned his head and said to the signals runner beside him, “Quickly send a telegram to the army group’s air defense command. Tell them a large number of German planes have invaded and have them get ready. What are you waiting for? Go! Quick!”

Soon, a telegram arrived at several important Soviet air defense command posts. A staff officer handed the message to his commander, and the air-raid sirens for the entire Baku oil field were sounded. A mournful sound was everywhere. On the concealed anti-aircraft gun positions, the camouflage netting was pulled away by the scrambling soldiers, and one after another, the barrels of the 85mm anti-aircraft guns quickly pointed at the sky.

In the vicinity of the Stavropol natural gas field, the same scene was being replayed. The nearby anti-aircraft gun positions were a hive of activity. And further away, the Soviet field airfields responsible for the defense of this area were also scrambling to get their planes off the ground. Even though most of the pilots knew they were no match for the enemy, they still followed orders and took off into the sky.

On the outskirts of Stalingrad, Rokossovsky, who had just arrived by plane, was walking down the gangway. On another runway not far from this plane, two I-16 fighters were making an emergency takeoff.

An officer rushed towards this transport plane, whose propellers had not yet completely stopped. In front of Rokossovsky, he stopped, saluted, and said, “Comrade General! News just came in. The German army has sortied a large number of bombers and has crossed the border between the two sides…”

“I know. The radio on the plane just announced it, ordering all planes in the entire Caucasus region, except for the fighters, to be immediately dispersed and concealed. I’m not deaf,” Rokossovsky said, glancing at the officers who had come to greet him and waving for them to leave the runway first.

Walking onto the grass by the side of the runway, he spoke again. “I am here to take charge of all the defense matters here, but I am not an air force professional, so I will not say much about air defense operations. It will all be left to the comrades among you who were originally in charge of air defense operations.”

He looked at the several officers with worried faces and said in a light tone, “Our army’s frontline air defense has never been very good. The reason is that our planes are not as good as the German planes in performance. So I understand the difficulties of you comrades, but…”

At this point, he paused and then continued solemnly, “But this is Stalingrad. This is not Minsk, not Kiev, not Donetsk. This is Stalingrad, a city named after the leader. I hope you will join me in defending this city, which has been given high hopes, and in defending the crucial Caucasus!”

“Yes! Comrade General!” everyone saluted.

While they were talking, on the anti-aircraft gun positions near Stalingrad, one after another of the anti-aircraft gun barrels were also being raised. These air defense weapons pointed at the sky, quietly waiting for the arrival of the invaders. If enemy planes were to appear here, then the entire sky would become a sea of flames.

“The observation posts along the way have spotted the target! The German air fleet has been spotted! The target is Stalingrad! The target is… Stalingrad!” a soldier stumbled into the underground command shelter that Rokossovsky had just chosen on the outskirts and reported loudly.

His report was not much faster than the enemy’s arrival. Outside the shelter, near the distant horizon, the Soviet anti-aircraft guns had already begun to let out their roar. The sound of the cannons rang out on the outskirts of this city, and the people here finally realized that the war was not far from them.

At an altitude of ten thousand meters, braving the dense Soviet artillery fire, the German planes were unhurriedly approaching the target they were about to bomb. As these targets grew closer and closer, the commander’s voice came over the radio, “Open the bomb bay doors! Tell these Soviet idiots! We’re here!”

The grinding of metal, the turning of machinery… Accompanied by the explosions of the anti-aircraft shells, the bomb bay doors of the bomber fleet began to open. All the planes began to lose altitude.

“Below us is Stalingrad,” a co-pilot said, opening his mouth to joke with the pilot beside him as he helped him to lower the plane’s altitude on the shaking and vibrating aircraft. “Hey, you tell me, what we’re doing now, does it count as slapping Stalin in the face?”

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