Chapter 995: The Bombing Has Only Just Begun

“Rat-tat! Rat-tat!” On the backs of the German bombers, the twin-linked 30mm cannons were powerful, their ballistics excellent. Centering an enemy plane in the sights and letting rip would more often than not yield results. With the cannons’ fierce barrage, the entire turret trembled, and shell casings clattered at their feet, a pleasing sound.

Tracer rounds were still bright in the daytime sky, streaking toward their targets at top speed. With the rotation of the gun turrets and the forward movement of the planes, these warheads, which should have flown straight, instead carved strange arcs through the air.

“Vrooom… Vroooom.” Captain James, piloting his fighter, could feel his engine trembling slightly in the thin air, a vibration coming right through the canopy. His plane was not in optimal condition. Having spent so long with aircraft, he knew from the sound alone that his plane was not suited for fighting an opponent at this altitude.

But the situation left no time for contemplation. The German bullets were not to be trifled with. The hail of fire from the dense bomber formation opposite them was a hundred times denser, a vast net that enveloped him and the fighters behind him.

“Number 4! Number 4! Climb! Climb, quick!” His friend’s voice suddenly crackled in his headset. Number 4 was his friend’s wingman. Before his friend could say anything more, he himself had to roll to the right to evade the stream of enemy fire.

Without even time to warn his own wingman on his flank, he had to slam his control stick to the right, getting his plane to change direction as fast as possible to evade the incoming shells. By the time he had steadied his aircraft, his headset was filled with overlapping shouts and cries for help.

James had shot down a German Do-217 bomber over London. He had been promoted to lieutenant for it and had received a medal. So he knew just how terrifying those auto-cannons firing from all over the German bombers were.

It was just as the Germans had faced in another timeline: a fighter pilot was no longer facing another pilot, but a vast aerial fleet, a horde of machine gunners strapped into their turrets, infantry in the sky. These soldiers no longer relied on superior dogfighting skills, but on a dense and orderly wall of fire.

A vivid metaphor is that the dense defensive armament on a strategic bomber had opened the prelude to trench warfare in the sky. These planes, relying on their sturdier structures and more stable platforms, were engaging in a war of attrition with the enemy’s fighter units. And in this process of mutual attrition, the bomber force, which was also carrying out its bombing mission, clearly had the advantage.

James finally broke through the dense wall of fire, aimed at a German bomber, and opened up. His bullets punched two rows of holes in the enemy plane but failed to bring it down. Unfortunately, the “Butcher” bomber was sturdier than the Do-217 and had a higher tolerance for damage.

“Sir! Number 4 has been shot down!” his number 2 wingman, who had broken through the bomber formation’s wall of fire with him, reported loudly. He had just made it through the flak when he saw the poor P-40, its wing torn off, plunging towards the ground.

It seemed the disaster was just beginning. A single diving attack had not thrown the German bomber formation into disarray. Instead, the RAF fighters had hit them like a ball of mud striking an iron plate—failing to harm the plate but shattering themselves. Of the 19 British fighters that had charged the formation, only a pitiful 11 remained. The other eight had, needless to say, been shot down by the bombers’ defensive fire.

James knew the Luftwaffe was no pushover, but he had still led his men in a brave attack. Yet reality was cruel. He had lost eight planes and had not shot down a single German bomber. Fancy flying and sharp reflexes were no longer what this war demanded. What was needed now were large-caliber cannons. The bigger the caliber, the more damage you could inflict from a distance on these increasingly sturdy aircraft.

The American P-40 was equipped with 12.7mm machine guns. Clearly, these guns could not inflict fatal damage on the German bombers. But the “Butcher” bombers, with their 13mm and 30mm cannons, were more than enough to handle the P-40s.

“Get out of here! Circle around and climb! We have to attack again!”

James felt his heart constrict, but he suppressed his breaking heart and gave the order to continue the attack. “Watch your distance! Don’t get tangled in their cannon fire!”

Those vibrant lives, his familiar comrades, who had been eating with him just a short while ago, had left this world in the span of a single dive. James was no longer a new pilot, but this was the most painful moment he had ever experienced. Even in the brutal air battles over London, the Royal Air Force had never lost so many fighters in such a short time.

He flew his plane in a wide circle, finally catching up to the front of the German bombers’ flank. To intercept a bomber formation, speed and rate of climb were the most crucial performance factors. And, as it happened, the P-40 Rolls-Royce variant was exceptionally ordinary in both.

“John! I’ll avenge you!” James knew the pilot of fighter number 3. His best friend had been torn to pieces in the last dive, falling into the sea with his plane, which was in even more pieces than he was.

He accelerated into the attack, aimed his weapons at the German plane, and then, without dodging, he sped toward the target. At a dangerously close range, he opened fire. His aircraft’s machine guns spat fire, leaving a dense pattern of holes in the enemy plane.

The bullets raked across the dorsal turret of a German bomber, punching a row of holes in the transparent plexiglass. The female gunner inside was struck in the head and slumped in her seat. This German bomber, which had been attacked by two P-40s in a row, finally succumbed, trailing thick smoke as it slowly began to lose altitude.

With a roar, an engine cowling was blown open by the flames inside. The “Butcher” bomber caught fire, its entire wing shrouded in thick smoke. James’s unit, after paying a heavy price, had finally achieved its first kill of the day.

Along with this German bomber’s explosion, another went down. This plane had been hit in its cockpit. The 12.7mm machine gun bullets had pierced the glass, killing everyone inside and shattering the instrument panel.

And so this plane also began to fall, its flight attitude becoming more and more erratic until it spiraled into its final crash. But falling to the sea along with these two German bombers were five of the British P-40 Rolls-Royce improved fighters.

By the time James had circled around and found another attack position, only five planes were following him. To shoot down two German bombers, the RAF fighter unit had paid a price of 13 aircraft. This was a depressing fact. The British were forced to face the tragic reality that their fighters could not defeat the bombers.

But just at this moment, something happened that made James rejoice. From a higher altitude, one after another, new-model British fighters appeared, diving rapidly. These roaring super-fighters were far more powerful than their Allied counterparts.

These planes had a terrifying speed of nearly 700 km/h, and they had large-caliber cannons mounted in their noses. Compared to the P-40s, Hurricanes, or even the P-51s, this was a true super-interceptor.

With a shriek, these planes tore into the German bomber formation. The once-rigid German formation began to loosen, and in just an instant, two German bombers disintegrated and exploded in mid-air. It was an obvious and immediate judgment: these British Meteor jet fighters, cutting into the battlefield at high speed, were perfectly suited for attacking German bombers.

“Maintain formation! Hold formation! Don’t panic! Do not leave your positions!” The sudden attack instantly snapped the German air force commander, who had just begun to relax, to full alert. This new type of aircraft, appearing before everyone with devastating speed and ferocious firepower, had shaken the entire German bomber formation in an instant.

A bomber, flown by a rookie, broke away from the massive formation. As a result, it was quickly surrounded by James and the other P-40s that had closed in. The bomber was quickly shot down, trailing a long plume as it plunged towards the Icelandic coastline.

After this long entanglement, the German planes were already approaching the Icelandic interior. Their bombing target was not far ahead. As long as they could drop their massive bomb load there, Germany’s bombing of Iceland would be a complete success. Although the appearance of the jet fighters had caused some panic among the Germans, the weakness of these jets was also obvious—there were simply too few of them!

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