Chapter 913: As Numerous as Hairs on an Ox

On a German military airfield, two Stuka II bombers, loaded with bombs, were preparing for takeoff. The runway in front of them had been cleared. With one command after another, the two planes, one after the other, slowly lifted off the ground. In mid-air, the two planes retracted their landing gear, making them more streamlined and a little faster.

With the roar of their engines, these two planes, like two birds, soared into the clouds. The earth below them rapidly shrank, eventually becoming like a world from a fairy tale, looking exceptionally small.

They flew over low mountain peaks, over wide plains and fields. From time to time in the sky, they could still see friendly aircraft returning to base, as well as German Air Force fighter units on patrol over the battlefield.

When they met, everyone in the sky would rock their wings, expressing mutual respect with the body language of their aircraft. The more dangerous maneuvers were usually performed by the returning planes, because these planes, having expended their ammunition, were a little lighter.

The closer they got to the front, the gloomier the sky became, and the once-peaceful, vast, and inclusive earth below also took on a different appearance. The ground was littered with smoking craters, and the roads and railways had been basically destroyed. Some small towns had also been paid a visit by the German planes repeatedly.

“Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Rat-tat!” Three tracer rounds grazed the wing of a German Stuka II and flew into the sky. The ground anti-aircraft fire had suddenly let loose a volley of shells. The German plane that had been attacked immediately began to change its flight direction and then used a side-slip to observe the ground target that was attacking it.

“Damn it! There really is a fool who doesn’t want to live, attacking us! Watch out, there’s an anti-aircraft gun position on the ground nearby, and it’s firing at us,” the pilot of the attacked plane shouted, making an emergency maneuver. He rocked his plane left and right, hoping to make it impossible for the enemy to aim at him.

Perhaps because his efforts had paid off, or perhaps for some other reason, in any case, the other side did not attack him again. By the time this pilot had aimed the nose of his plane at the anti-aircraft gun position that had just attacked him, he realized that he had been attacked by his own side.

On that anti-aircraft gun position, a single-barreled Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft gun was smoking lightly, and the surrounding German soldiers were making all sorts of gestures at the sky. A German swastika flag was spread over the engine cover of the truck that was towing this anti-aircraft gun, and a good number of infantry were also standing around, watching the show.

“Those idiots! They almost shot me down,” the pilot of this Stuka II cursed. To be shot down so cluelessly would have been a real disgrace. Perhaps being disgraced would have been lucky; he might have even lost his own life.

His wingman’s voice came through the headset, trying to calm him down. “Sergeant, forget it! We still have an attack mission. When we write the report back at base, we can complain about the ground air defense units firing without properly identifying their targets.”

“What a bad day… to have such bad luck on the first attack mission of the day,” the lead pilot said, adjusting his flight attitude. The two planes, one after the other, continued to fly towards the area where the two sides’ forces were engaged.

“My God! Look down! Boss. The ground is covered with attacking Soviet soldiers! There are so many of them! I can’t even see the end,” the pilot in the wingman’s plane said in a trembling voice in the headset.

Hearing this, the lead pilot did not hesitate. He immediately adjusted his plane’s flight attitude and got a clear look at the situation on the ground. The place was teeming with attacking Soviet soldiers, as dense as ants on the move. There were continuously advancing T-26 tanks on the ground, as well as trucks covered in branches for camouflage. A good number of anti-aircraft guns were firing, and two German planes were circling above this force, in a hail of bullets.

“Dive! Begin the attack! Each to his own target, no need for cover. Be careful not to get shot down, otherwise they really won’t even be able to find your body,” the lead pilot said, looking at the thousands of Soviet troops below him. After he had finished, he began his dive attack.

A piercing dive-siren sound cut through the sky. This Stuka II attack aircraft began to approach the ground in a very steep dive. He then did not rush to drop his bombs, but in the most densely packed area of the crowd, he pressed the rocket launch button.

The rocket launch pods slung under the wings began to spew one after another of white smoke trails. Those powerful rockets, trailing white contrails, rushed towards their targets, and then on the ground, two rows of huge black smoke from the explosions rose up, and severed limbs and torsos were flying everywhere.

“I got a tank!… Great! I got him!… My God, there are so many of them,” the excited shouts of his wingman, accompanied by the static of the radio, sounded continuously in his headset. The lead pilot did not say anything more. He just piloted his plane, again and again, aiming its nose at an important attack target.

Click! With a crisp sound, the entire plane became lighter in the instant the aerial bomb was released from its belly. This bomb was dropped at the Stuka II’s safest flight altitude closest to the ground, and then, due to inertia, it accurately landed by the side of a slowly advancing T-34 tank.

The huge explosion immediately engulfed this Soviet tank. As the smoke and dust gradually dissipated, the tracks of this Soviet T-34 had been destroyed, and its entire engine compartment had also caught fire. A few seconds later, a second explosion sounded, and the tank’s turret was blown dozens of meters into the air by the massive blast wave.

The Soviet soldiers around this tank had long since been thrown to the ground by the shockwave and shrapnel of the aerial bomb’s explosion. The uninjured ones had just gotten up and had not even had time to straighten their clothes when they were blown away again by another explosion. Many were covered in blood, and their screams were incessant.

An anti-aircraft gun at the edge of a forest was firing continuously, trying to drive away the German planes that were attacking the Soviet troops. Tracer rounds flew past the wings of the German planes, weaving a fiery net. The German planes flew back and forth in this net, dodging the deadly shells that were flying at them from all directions.

“My God! There are so many of them! I’m diving, I’m diving! This is the last bomb! Alright! Target hit! I’m pulling up! I’m pulling up! They’re firing at me! The bullets are hitting my plane…” the wingman’s pilot was still shouting in the headset. It seemed that facing so many targets could indeed make a person exceptionally excited.

The lead pilot still said nothing but found a relatively safe direction, began to dive his plane, and, with the cannons on his own plane, began to strafe the crowd of Soviet troops fiercely.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! The 20mm cannon against enemy infantry was simply a massacre. The dense ammunition swept two conspicuous paths through the crowd of attacking Soviet troops—these paths were a deep crimson, looking quite beautiful. It was just that these avenues were stained red with blood, and there were not many who dared to walk on them.

After pulling up his plane again, the lead pilot let out a turbid breath and then ordered over the radio, “Expend all your ammunition, and then rendezvous with my plane at an altitude of 7,000 meters. Understood, wingman?”

“Boss! This is the first time I’ve seen a target that we can’t destroy all at once,” the wingman said, having also expended all his carried ammunition. He began to slowly climb his plane to a relatively safe altitude.

“This is Orchard One, this is Orchard One. I and Orchard Two have carried out a ground attack mission. We have a situation to report,” the lead pilot said, adjusting his channel and speaking in the noisy cockpit. “The enemy ground forces are attacking with at least one division. The ammunition I am carrying is not sufficient to meet the strike requirements. In addition, the enemy is covered by four anti-aircraft guns, all small-caliber. Please confirm the enemy’s unit designation… I am returning to base, over!”

“This is the ground control tower. You are cleared to return to base! Follow the pre-arranged safe flight path. We have you clearly on radar. Over,” the voice from the ground tower sounded in the headset. At this distance, the radios equipped on the German planes were already sufficient for them to communicate with each other.

In the ground air force field airfield command center, an officer handed a few communication records that had been reported from the front to the commander. This air force colonel frowned as he finished reading the relevant content and then muttered, “My God, I hope those Italians and Romanians know what a massive force they are facing.”

“Sir! We have lost seven Stuka II attack planes. If this continues, the unit will lose its combat capability,” an officer said, saluting at attention to this colonel commander. “The scale of the enemy is not something our one attack wing can stop. We should request support.”

The colonel commander nodded and then pointed to the strike range marked in black and white. “The strike range we are responsible for is actually not very large, but the density of the Soviet attack is simply too great. I have asked the attack wing next door, and they are also requesting reinforcements.”

“Report!” a German air force NCO came to the side of the two men, saluted at attention, and then said loudly, “News just came in. Two Italian divisions have already lost their defensive positions. Two Romanian divisions have suffered heavy casualties and could be broken through by the enemy at any moment.”

“Where is the position of G Army Group’s armored forces? If we need to move, they should have notified us as soon as possible,” the colonel said with a frown. If the Soviet army were to get close to the field airfield, it would definitely be a troublesome matter for them.

“The liaison officer of G Army Group says that their troops are assembling and are preparing to counter-attack,” the NCO who had come to report replied in a low voice.

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