Chapter 994: Firing Simultaneously

No one can imagine, in the real historical timeline, what it felt like for German pilots, after looking at the dense kill markings on their fuselages, to slowly raise their heads to the sky and watch the hundreds upon hundreds of Allied bombers fly over their heads.

Nor can anyone know, in the real historical timeline, the despair and helplessness of those battle-hardened German ace pilots as they flew their planes, hopelessly outnumbered, charging into an enemy twenty times their size, weaving like moths through the spider’s web of enemy fire.

In real history, a German ace pilot, in an air battle in 1945, desperately rammed his own plane into an Allied bomber. His act was spontaneous, but the ending was tragic—this, from one side, sketched out the desperate situation of the German Air Force at the time: they had exhausted all their means, but unfortunately could not stop those terrible war machines from destroying their homeland.

This pilot’s name was Heinrich Ehrler. He had shot down 208 enemy aircraft in his lifetime. From his combat record alone, he was enough to be called an outstanding fighter master. What kind of desolation and despair would it take to make even a man like this lose faith in himself?

In the real historical timeline, a German Air Force commander had sadly told his men: “The era of acrobatic individual combat is over. There is no more searching and hiding in the sky, no more mutual pursuit, getting on the enemy’s tail, choosing the most appropriate time to shoot at your chosen target, and so on. All of this is in the past. A fighter is no longer facing an enemy pilot, but a vast aerial fleet, a pile of machine gunners strapped into their turrets with leather belts, infantry in the sky. So these fighter pilots can, in the end, only adopt large-formation tactics.”

Now, at this very moment, the British pilots in Iceland were facing this test under extreme conditions. In front of them were not 100 German bombers, not 200, but a full 380! How spectacular was this gathering of aircraft? In the most congested city, find the most congested street, stand on one side and look to the other—all the cars you see, added up, might not be as many as 380!

At this moment, imagine a flyer distributor, trying his best to stuff his flyers into the window of every car—can you feel the despair of these British fighter pilots now?

The infrastructure on Iceland was very incomplete, so the number of aircraft it could accommodate at one time was indeed not large. When the Allies had deployed more than 300 bombers here in one go, they had taken up too many of the Iceland airfield’s resources, to the point that it was impossible to deploy more fighters at the same time.

Originally, this was supposed to be a classic surprise attack to catch the Germans off guard. By the time the Germans had organized a counter-attack, Iceland would have become an expendable pawn. At that time, when the Germans came to bomb Iceland, they would only be facing a pile of worthless concrete facilities. The Americans were bombing Norway’s iron ore factories, the Germans could only bomb the Iceland military base. Everyone would consume ammunition and fuel, and lose precious pilots. This was the rhythm the Americans had most hoped to see.

Unfortunately, no one could have imagined that the Germans would come so quickly, so fast that they had not yet consumed the mountains of military supplies piled up on Iceland. Nearly a hundred B-17 bombers, unable to take off due to mechanical failure and maintenance, tens of thousands of tons of high-quality aviation fuel, and mountains of aerial bombs. It was impossible to take so many things away in a short time, which meant that they had to be left here to be destroyed by the Germans.

More than 100 B-17 bombers had already received the emergency takeoff order. These planes did not have sufficient preparation time, and there was no way to load the precious military supplies. They could only refuel at the fastest possible speed, and then quickly flee west, to escape this land that was about to be destroyed by the Germans.

Flying in the opposite direction of these American bombers were the pitiful 36 fighters of the British and American air forces. These planes were divided into three forces, scattered to be thrown into this completely unequal intercepting air battle. Why were these few pitiful forces scattered? It was just a helpless move made because of the differences in command and performance of these planes.

As a very talented British air force commander, Hugh Dowding certainly did not want to disperse the only air defense forces in his hands. But in the end, he had helplessly discovered that the best way to use these planes was to let them fight their own battles. The American fighters were not subordinate to the British Iceland air defense command in terms of command, so to temporarily group them together would only affect their performance.

The British’s own Meteor fighters were too fast, already exceeding the remaining P-40 Rolls-Royce improved fighters, so they could only be formed into a separate squadron for combat. The only ones left were the British’s own P-40 Rolls-Royce improved models, which could also be formed into a squadron.

And so, after a simple discussion, the British and the Americans had reached a consensus: the three forces would, from three directions, shoot down as many of the German bombers as possible, to break up these bomber formations, and to protect the ground facilities to survive this bombing as much as possible.

After countless improvements, the American P-40 Rolls-Royce improved fighter could finally, just barely, fight German planes at an altitude of 10,000 meters. But to barely fly to this altitude was, after all, just barely. The Americans had already begun to focus on developing their P-51 fighter. The German intelligence department had already received this news, and it was said that the prototype had already completed its test flights.

Very unfortunately, at this very moment, the British Royal Air Force did not have this new type of aircraft, the P-51. They could only use outdated or unreliable junk to deal with the terrifying opponent that had already bullied its way to their doorstep.

“My God!…” The first British pilot hidden in the clouds was so scared by the sight of the German bomber group that he could barely speak. He saw a dark, oppressive mass of planes, so many he couldn’t count them. These planes seemed to have no end, stretching all the way to the end of the sky in the distance.

“Target sighted!” the British Royal Air Force commander, an ace pilot from the Battle of Britain with the rank of captain, James, reported to the ground control center, his brow furrowed as he piloted his P-40. “They are everywhere. Unless you’re blind, you can spot them with a single glance.”

“Climb! Climb! Prepare for the first dive attack! All pilots, attention! Full throttle! We don’t have much time to get above them! We must seize this precious opportunity!” James shouted, giving the attack order. He then began to increase the power to his engine, making his P-40 fighter climb rapidly to an altitude above the enemy aircraft.

He was the first to charge out of the clouds, and behind this P-40, one after another, the P-40 fighters, all picked up speed and charged out. A full 19 planes, like proud knights, charged towards the 380 German bombers.

“Long live His Majesty the King!” a pilot sang out mournfully over the radio. Although they were all trying their best to remain calm, in the face of an enemy 20 times their own number, his voice still trembled slightly.

Soon they had reached a sky slightly higher than the German bomber formation. The straining shriek of their engines was proof that they really didn’t have the ability to fly any higher. So these planes leveled off, and then began to accelerate into a dive, rapidly approaching the orderly formations of German bombers.

“Enemy aircraft approaching!” A German pilot had spotted these dauntless British warriors from the time they had begun their climb. He had expected to find more British planes, but by the time he saw the dozen or so British planes desperately climbing and approaching, he knew the enemy was not as strong as they had first estimated.

At takeoff, the German army had estimated that the number of British planes that would take off to intercept would exceed 100. So this time, General Dick had even been prepared to lose 100 bombers. But now it seemed that the German army had indeed overestimated the British defense. The number of enemy planes was at most only half of what had been estimated.

But they still did not let down their guard. After all, in the German intelligence, the British still had a “new type of fighter” that flew very fast and made a lot of noise. The document mentioned that this plane was a new jet fighter, faster and with more ferocious firepower.

With more and more voices preparing for battle on the radio, the machine gun turrets on the German bombers all pointed in the direction from which the British planes were coming. A female gunner worked the action of her cannon, feeding the first shell into the chamber. She stared at the distant black dots through the ring sight, her face expressionless.

“All pilots, attention! Maintain formation! Do not panic! Give our gunners the most stable attack platform, and they will be able to take out those fragile fighters before they can shoot you down!” the frontline commander of the German bomber group said into his transmitter, admonishing all the pilots.

“Heil Akado Rudolph, my Führer!” a gunner shouted in her headset. Her voice was firm and high, as if she had known all along that victory would ultimately belong to Germany.

“Long live Germany! Heil Führer! Wait until the enemy planes are close before opening fire!” the German commander ordered calmly. “Countdown begins! Three, two, one… Fire!”

At the same time, opposite them, in the cockpits of those light and agile P-40 fighters, the British pilots had also pressed their own firing switches.

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