237 French Airports
"We've found the airport! They're taking off!" A pilot reported his findings over the intercom. [For more exciting novels, please visit]
"Harland, you protect us from above. We attack." An air force commander assigned tasks in the two-seat command Stuka bomber.
"There is no problem with the fighters, you can start attacking. Four fighters will follow your formation, and the rest will climb up with me to find the target." Harland's voice came from the earphones.
Soon, most of the fw-190 fighters began to climb, while the Stuka dive bombers began to dive. A fw-190 fighter jet with a yellow identification symbol painted on the nose and a cute Mickey Mouse pattern painted on the cockpit is very conspicuous in the sun.
"Keep in formation, divide into four-finger battle formations, cover each other, and guard the entire airspace." As he climbed, Harland assigned tasks. The German pilots who had long been the elites of hundreds of battles quickly completed the adjustments, and soon they flew to the height of the clouds. These planes made the sound of humming engines, and they climbed skillfully and with a biting murderous aura.
Today's weather is very sunny, almost cloudless, which is a tailor-made good day for the Luftwaffe. They like to find their opponents at a long distance, and then calmly dive and attack, using their super high speed and good high-speed fighting ability to instantly disintegrate their opponents.
"No. 07, your formation is in charge of the airspace on the left. No. 09, your formation is on the right." Harland changed the plane to level flight, and then looked into the distance: "Wingmen, follow me, and take charge of the most dangerous front. The place."
"07 understands!" "09 understands!" "The wingman obeys!" There were answers from the earphones.
...
At low altitude, Stuka bombers had already begun to attack the Belgian Air Force airfield. At the height of the clouds, one after another, the Stuka dive bombers circled down as if they had found a vulture of food.
Immediately following the anti-aircraft artillery positions around the airport finally realized their dangerous situation, and started a chaotic counterattack, Stuka swooped down under the artillery fire, making that miserable sound of wings cutting through the airflow special sound. The bombs were dropped one after another, directly hitting the anti-aircraft artillery positions that fired. For a while, the smoke of the explosion was everywhere, and the cries and orders were chaotic.
Amid the deafening roar of the engines, the pilot of the French Air Force checked the instruments one last time. The ground crew was standing right in front of them waving their hands, signaling them to take off quickly, so the pilot tried his best to start the plane, adjusted the radio station to channel 4, and waited for the command post to communicate.
"Fighter 02,
Communication channel 4, command: direction 150, climb angle 25 degrees, please answer. "The anxious confirmation sound from the ground tower came from the earphones. The anti-aircraft artillery positions around had opened fire, but they were then killed by the planes of the Germans around. He appeared flustered by the return fire from the cannon.
On the radio, the commander of the French air force stationed in Belgium is frantically ordering his plane to take off. But looking at the densely packed Luftwaffe planes in the sky, he knew that this dying struggle seemed to have no effect. But always try, otherwise the hundreds of fighter jets and bombers parked here will be destroyed. Thinking of this frustrating result, which might become a victory or defeat that changed the entire local battle situation, the French air force commander felt cold sweat in his hands.
"This is the 02 fighter plane, the communication channel is 4, the direction is 150, and the climb angle is 25." The French pilot replied mechanically.
Holding the radio, the voice of the tower on the ground could even be heard trembling: "Understood! The wind speed is normal, the runway has been cleared, and we can take off at any time. Hurry up!"
"Understood. I'm taking off!" the pilot replied as he accelerated the plane.
"Good luck to you all." The control tower said one last sentence.
The French fighter jets began to taxi slowly on the runway, but at this time a German Stuka swooped down under the rain of bullets. Everyone saw the huge bomb hanging on the belly of the Stuka was thrown by the ejection rod out of the fuselage, and several small bombs under the wings also left the plane at about the same time.
"Boom!" After a loud noise, a huge crater with a diameter of more than ten meters was blown out on the runway of the airport. The French fighter plane that was about to take off was overturned on the ground due to the huge explosion shock wave, and the engine was emitting black smoke. , the wheels under the wings were still spinning weakly.
The French ground crew on the ground rushed over to rescue the pilot, but found that the entire flight cockpit had been crushed by the weight of the plane itself, and the glass was covered with blood. It seemed that the pilot inside was in danger. Before they got close to the plane, the jet's engine was burning with black smoke, and everyone had to back away to avoid secondary damage caused by the fuel explosion inside the plane.
Above the sky, the German plane that had succeeded in the attack turned a somersault in the sky and swung away, leaving a group of French pilots looking up at the sky helplessly.
"Keep bombing! Destroy those hangars." Seeing the entire burning Belgian airport from the cabin, the commander of the German Stuka bomber fleet simply marked it on the map, indicating the location of a destroyed airport, and then He continued to order: "Planes without bombs, use cannons to "shoot" all worthy targets. You are welcome."
"Understood!" In the headset, some pilots answered loudly.
Following this answer, some bombers that pulled up and regained their altitude swooped down again, and began to violently shoot some high-value targets such as anti-aircraft artillery positions and oil depots. The roar of the engine was like the howling of the devil, which frightened the French and Belgian defenders on the ground.
Soon two more French planes were ready to take off. This time they were much smarter. They used the smoke from the hit planes and equipment to try to avoid the sight of the German planes and take off secretly.
But their luck was really bad. When they were taxiing to take off, they ran into the second Bostuka dive bomber that was diving. The three Stukas uttered strange screams and turned down from the sky, and once again precisely dropped the bomb at the exact position they needed to attack. The two planes were directly hit by the bomb and turned into a sea of flames. The fragments formed by the tragic explosion even hit the fuselage of the German Stuka bomber, making a slight bang.
"Don't let the pilots take off again! It's too late! Take them to the bunker!" On the control tower, the judge ordered loudly: "Call the surrounding airports and remind them that we have been violently attacked by the Luftwaffe! "
"Evacuate people! Hurry up..." Another officer was sweating profusely.
Beside him, a non-commissioned officer who was answering the phone had a desperate expression on his face: "Hello? Is this the airport? What? Your airport has also been attacked? Louder! Hello?"
As soon as he dropped the phone, the other rang again, and he had to pick up another receiver. "What? You need air support? Sorry! There's no way there's support! Be on your own."
However, on the invisible roof of the command tower, above the thousand-meter-high sky, three Stuka bombers began to slide one after another, and entered their ideal attack position.
The 20mm cannons on the wings of the two Stukas sprayed flames, and the tracer bullets drew a dazzling light path in broad daylight, flying towards the unlucky targets on the ground. A plane parked next to the control tower was hit by a machine gun, and it broke apart in an instant, paralyzed there.
A fuel tank truck was hit by a machine gun, and it burst into flames instantly. The fuel inside exploded, emitting thick black smoke. A dozen French ground crews turned into flaming Pyromen, twisting and writhing in agony. But around them, the companions who wanted to rescue them were helpless.
The Stuka bomber pilot in charge of the main attack pushed the joystick, and the plane began to lower its head and dive. In front of his plane, the two Stukas responsible for covering had already begun to pull up. He adjusted the joystick slightly, and aimed the nose of the plane at the airport control tower he wanted to attack.
Adjusting again, on the instrument panel in the cabin in front of him, the reticle in the center of an optical sight was aligned with the target. The huge dive made his whole body seem to be pressed on his seat, but he still concentrated, He ignored the shells and bullets flying past his plane.
Suddenly he pressed the switch, dropped the heavy bomb, the plane trembled slightly, the speed seemed to be faster, and the response of the joystick was suddenly more sensitive. He knew the bomb had left the plane and was heading for its target. So he pulled the joystick suddenly, the speed of the whole plane suddenly slowed down, and his whole body was pushed against the seat belt by the huge inertia, and his internal organs squeezed his stomach, but this feeling was to him Said it was very enjoyable.
So he yelled and pulled up the plane, and his plane responded to him with the most sensitive control sense. After suddenly reducing the speed, the plane began to raise its head rapidly, and the oncoming earth began to extend into the distance. Immediately afterwards, the sky that seemed to be invisible for a long time reappeared in front of my eyes.
The bomb accurately hit the command tower, and the explosion instantly destroyed the building. Everyone inside was not spared and was instantly torn into pieces. With the explosion and collapse of the tower, the thick smoke rising from the entire airport became denser. The planes on the ground exploded and burned one after another. This airport, like dozens of other French front-line airports, was completely destroyed by the Luftwaffe.
High in the sky, looking at the smoky airport below, Harland snorted. Then look at the sky ahead, where a dozen small black spots are rapidly approaching.
"Guys! Our job is coming." Harland's plane has already begun to accelerate: "Let the Frenchmen remember that even if they fly, they have to be shot down."
Behind his plane, the wingman accelerated. Then there is the third fw-190, the fourth, the fifth...
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