Chapter 986: A Long Night

The American bombers en route to the mining area were from the Spade formation of the B-17 bomber unit, also under intense and terrifying German anti-aircraft fire. Their fuselages trembled in the distant turbulence and explosions, and everyone in the air, swaying uncertainly, prayed they wouldn’t be shot down and plunged to the ground.

Suddenly, the German flak fell silent, an unnervingly coordinated lull. As the Americans wondered at this strange turn of events, someone finally spotted the problem.

“Jonathan! Below! I keep seeing these weird shadows down there!” a gunner in a ventral turret called out, swiveling his cannons and alerting his crewmates. In the pitch-black night, they could see nothing, only a profound darkness—a darkness so deep it felt as if unseen demons lurked within, ready to devour their souls.

In the darkness, guided by ground radar, the German Ju-88 night fighters had found their prey. This was their combat debut, the first time in the entire war they had revealed their terrifying forms to their enemies.

The graceful lines of the Ju-88 were hidden in the night. This aircraft had been designed as a new generation of multi-role bomber, but by the time it appeared, the German army had already completed its blitzkrieg of Poland. Combat had proven that the Do-217 bomber was perfectly adequate at the time; there was simply no need for another aircraft of its type.

The Do-217’s performance in Poland and France had won over the German Air Force. It had a larger bomb load than the Ju-88 and stronger defensive armament, making it more economical to use. And so the nimbler, smaller Ju-88 had fallen out of favor.

Therefore, for the sake of thrift, the German designers had repurposed this aircraft into a heavy ground-attack aircraft and a multi-role long-range fighter-reconnaissance plane. Even so, it remained a marginal type within the German military. The one major reason the Ju-88 ultimately became a mainstay of the German air force was the Führer Akado’s emphasis on night fighters.

The newly developed airborne radar systems were too bulky. The propeller on a single-engine fighter’s nose also restricted the installation of radar. So, in the end, this night fighter had to be a twin-engine design with a relatively small airframe. The Ju-88 had immediately stood out, becoming a mature, in-service platform for conversion into a night fighter.

This unique German night fighter had been produced with every detail in mind. For example, the Führer had raised the problem of pilots being blinded by their own muzzle flash at night… and these problems had all been solved one by one by the German engineers. The Ju-88G night fighter that was delivered to the units was a work of art, a perfect killing machine.

This aircraft was armed with a full eight 30mm cannons and one 13mm defensive machine gun, an absolute super aerial gunship armed to the teeth. Moreover, this plane was equipped with an advanced airborne radar with a detection range of over six kilometers, to guide the attacks of its overwhelmingly powerful weapon system.

The upward-firing cannons on its back, nicknamed “Schräge Musik,” could directly attack targets above and behind, without having to adjust the nose of the plane. And these weapons were all located behind the pilot, so the flames from firing would not cause the pilot to be blinded.

Now these planes had approached the American bomber group. The radar operator in the cabin had spotted the American planes flying above them on his screen. And so, he signaled his teammates over the radio that they could begin the attack: “Target has entered attack range! You are cleared to fire!”

These new Ju-88G night fighters suddenly began their slaughter in the night sky. The two 30mm cannons on their backs spewed dazzling tongues of fire. Tracer rounds drew straight lines in the darkness as they flew towards their targets. Then these shells accurately struck the American planes, leaving a row of burning holes in the enemy’s wings or fuselage.

This was not a contest of equals, but a one-sided hunt. The American bombers in the night sky had no idea what was happening before their flight formations were broken up by the German night fighter group.

One after another, the B-17 bombers disintegrated or exploded in the air. Even the sturdiest of airframes could not withstand the ravages of 30mm cannon shells. The hit American planes were instantly torn apart and exploded, turning into dazzling fireballs in the night sky.

“German planes! It’s the German planes!” By the light of a burning B-17 plunging towards the ground, the American B-17 pilot, Jonathan, finally got a clear look at his enemy. He saw the sharp black Iron Cross on the wing of that dark gray camouflaged, twin-engine plane.

“Fire! Fire!” he roared, and then pulled the trigger. But the moment his cannons spat fire, his eyes, which had long since grown accustomed to the dark, could see nothing. His vision was filled with flashing lights, and his ears were filled with shouts and curses.

“I can’t see them! My eyes can’t see them at all! God!” Jonathan didn’t know where the enemy planes had gone. He just fired blindly, as if only by doing so could he ensure he wouldn’t be shot down. But this blind firing had no effect at all. The tracer rounds scattered in the sky like raindrops, flying off into the distance in crooked lines.

In his headset, someone was shouting a warning. The tension and chaos made everyone sensitive. “17! 17! It’s coming for you!” Hearing this, who knows how many defensive machine guns and cannons also began to fire blindly.

Jonathan, after a moment of not firing, finally regained some of his vision. To use defensive weapons designed for daytime fighters to barely deal with dedicated night fighters was indeed ineffective. He rubbed his eyes and then was barely able to make out the surrounding scenery.

He saw the side machine gun on a B-17 next to him firing frantically. And this firing gun was sweeping its fire closer and closer to his own direction.

Without having time to think about the other plane’s number, without having time to make his own plane climb, all he could do was to scream into the radio, “Cease fire! You’re hitting a friendly! Damn it! You’re hitting a friendly!” He didn’t say which plane it was. Maybe no one even heard his headless shout.

And so Jonathan could only stare, wide-eyed, as the nervous gunner continued to fire. The tracer rounds drew a straight line and struck the fuselage of his own plane. Then a cannon shell hit the ventral turret where he was, shattered the glass, pierced the steel plate, and struck the poor Jonathan squarely in the chest.

“Damn it!” this ventral turret gunner, Jonathan, cursed in his mind, and then his head drooped. His B-17 began to trail thick smoke, and then its entire tail broke off, turning into two spiraling pieces plunging downwards.

The cannons of the German planes were all located behind the pilot. Although this affected the aiming accuracy somewhat, it did not affect the pilot’s vision at all. And so these twin-engine Ju-88Gs rolled and chased nimbly in the night sky, tearing one American bomber after another into pieces.

The technological advantage that Akado had so painstakingly built for the German army had finally shown its value at this very second. In the pitch-black night sky, these Ju-88G night fighters, with their overwhelming advantage in electronic technology, had created a one-sided air battle.

The Americans fired fiercely, like headless flies, but they could never effectively stop the German planes from getting close. And the German fighters, using the cover of the night sky, could, with their own superior firepower, tear open the defensive line of the American B-17 bombers from any direction.

“The Germans have night fighters! They have dedicated night fighters!” the leading American Army Air Forces officer finally realized the seriousness of the problem. Since the other side had professional night interceptors, then for him to have chosen to come at night, what was it but suicide?

But at a time like this, it was too late for regrets. He could only grit his teeth and continue to carry out his mission, praying that the German planes had not hunted them to extinction before they could fly over the target area and drop their bombs.

Whether it was because his prayers had worked, or because this land operation had been exceptionally smooth, just as the Americans were being driven to despair by the German night fighters, they saw the various fires burning on the ground. Although the shape was not what had been agreed upon, they did not hesitate for a moment and opened their bomb bay doors.

“Begin the drop! Begin the drop! Defensive fire, continue to fire! As long as we destroy the target, we can return to base!” the American commander shouted in his desperation, giving the order to attack. He then felt a shudder in the fuselage of his own plane, and an aerial bomb was released from their bomb bay.

The B-17 bombers, in their bread-and-butter role of dropping bombs, showed an unparalleled professionalism. The bombs were released from the belly bomb bay in an orderly manner, following a parabolic trajectory as they slammed into the distant ground. The series of explosions in the pitch-black darkness could be seen clearly even from a distance of ten thousand meters. No one doubted that after such powerful destruction, Norway’s steel industry would be completely destroyed.

But there were no cheers, no joy of success, because the enemy they had to face was still circling around them. Those German fighters, like phantoms of the night, still showed no sign of leaving. They dived again and again, using their dense 30mm cannon fire to shatter the fragile fuselages of the American bombers.

For the American pilots, this night seemed to be exceptionally long.

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