Five Hundred and Forty Nine Black
If you choose a color to describe the hard German spirit, many people will choose black without even thinking about it, because the black iron cross and black SS uniform will make people remember the cold Germany in an instant.
Iron is black, so Germany uses the Iron Cross as its totem of belief and as its spiritual sustenance. The black that seems to absorb all the light is fascinating and solemn.
Hardman's nose is painted black, in stark contrast to the gray camouflage on the fuselage, and his entire nose is black. The black propeller ends have yellow accents, and the black edge of the nose is outlined in the shape of a tulip, a pattern he personally likes.
But at this moment, in the eyes of the Soviet pilots, the black-nosed German plane was no different from a god of death. He easily shot down the opponent's plane, rampaging in the encirclement and low altitude, without letting go of the Soviet planes that had the superior number. in the eyes.
Now he has shot down seven planes, he is simply the god of war in the air. You must know that these P-40 fighter jets are the elite of the Soviet pilots, and now they are rounded and flattened by the opponent like dough, and they are trampled at will.
The mud bodhisattva is still angry, let alone a group of soldiers who are proud of being brave and ruthless all day long? These Soviet pilots also had red eyes, feeling that if they didn't shoot down the German plane today, it would be an insult to their mission. Everyone came out to fight for the motherland. If you risked so many lives by yourself, why should others fight?
Just when they once again pressed the cross marks on the sight on the fuselage of the Ta-152 fighter Hardman was driving, they even had a desperate thought-this plane would not suddenly Change the trajectory of movement and disappear in their field of vision? How many times is this already? Couldn't this fighter fly honestly in a straight line and be shot down by them?
In fact, the Soviet pilots themselves were not simply flying in a straight line, but their opponents were so powerful that they were unable to get rid of the entanglement of the black Reaper. It is common for the pilot of an aircraft to have the flying skills to suppress the opponent, but if this pilot is flying a fighter jet with the performance to suppress the opponent, wouldn't it be even more desperate?
This German black fighter once again swung its wings and changed its flight state. It circled up like a goshawk, performing an unfathomable flight show. However, it is not doing futile and useless work, but through a series of complex maneuvers, it throws off the opponent's entanglement, widens the distance between the two sides, and there is still a height gap.
Anyone who has fought against German pilots knows that once the opponent is allowed to distance themselves and regain their altitude, the advantages of both sides will return to the German side. Another round of attacks is about to begin.
The four Soviet fighters immediately separated a short distance,
Then continue to circle, waiting for the invasion of German aircraft. They decided to decide the winner at the next pass, and shot down the nasty opponent who had been playing tricks on them for almost half an hour in one fell swoop.
In the narrow cockpit of the aircraft, Hardman gently stroked the joystick with his hands, feeling the feeling from the handle with his fingertips. He didn't hesitate, because although he looked a little crazy at this moment, his heart was peaceful. What he has to do now is very simple, just shoot down those opponents.
In the clouds, he found an opportunity. In fact, the formation of the Soviet fighter jets is very good, but in this state, Hardman's eyes are full of opportunities. Those seemingly impenetrable Soviet fighter formations are now full of loopholes like a sieve, he smiled slightly, and drove the fighter to start the extremely fast dive that the ta-152 fighter is best at.
The piston in the engine was pushed by the deflagrating fuel, and began to twitch more violently, like miniature cannons lined up one after another, burning and roaring under the engine hatch of the nose. They work together to keep the engine running, spinning the propeller in the nose, tearing at the surrounding air.
This is the fastest piston fighter, the strongest fighter in the world, and the most threatening weapon in the hands of the entire Luftwaffe. The target was approaching rapidly, and Hardman had already seen the black barrel of the opponent, but he was not in a hurry to fire, because he had his own thoughts.
Traditionally, the German Air Force's favorite offensive strategy is to use the advantage of weapon caliber from a distance to intimidate the opponent first, and then attack close after the opponent is confused. This set of theories has been proved to be an effective tactic in actual combat, bringing countless achievements and honors to German fighter pilots.
However, Hardman felt that he did not need to do this, because he was confident that he could use his superb flying skills to capture opportunities, and there was no need to waste limited ammunition. He found that he preferred to attack directly at close range, using short bursts of fire to achieve the most effective attack.
So he charged again, and charged at a fighter, like a knight on an ancient battlefield, rushing fiercely at his opponent, stabbing his most deadly spear at the closest moment, and beheading the opponent on the opposite horse. The life of the enemy to achieve their own immortal glory.
In the terrified eyes of the Soviet Air Force pilot, his plane was like a tiger pounced on its prey, like a black dragon soaring in the sky and swooping down. At this moment, this German plane was like the black dragon on the German national emblem. Like an eagle, with an unruly aura, overlooking all living beings from a bird's eye view.
After a dive, another Soviet fighter jet disintegrated and exploded in the air, and another pilot died without even having the chance to jump out of the cabin to open his parachute. Another miracle was born here.
Hardman drove the plane, went around in a circle and pointed the nose at the Soviet plane again. At this moment, the Soviet pilots had lost their fighting spirit, lost their momentum, and even lost the courage to confront Hardman head-on. . They deliberately avoided the nose of the opposite German plane, and it seemed that being aimed at by the other's nose was a very terrible thing.
As Hardman approached, the opponent finally collapsed in despair. A Soviet plane left the formation and began to fly to the distance. Hardman didn't know where the Soviet plane wanted to fly. Adjusted to point the nose at another Soviet aircraft.
He continued to approach, and continued to feel the subtle pleasure brought by the slight vibration of the fuselage and the mechanical roar. At this time, there were no F1 racing cars, and no men's sports were popular, but there were more exciting things for men to vent themselves. The wildness and cruelty in my heart. This is not a competition, nor is it a simple competition. Everyone is betting their lives to fight here, and the one who survives will be the strongest man—no doubt!
The machine gun roared again, overshadowing the roar of the engine, and Hardman fired at the same time as he made an urgent pull-up action, avoiding the flames of the explosion of the Soviet fighter jet. The violent explosion caused some parts to even hit Harde. Mann's fuselage, he could feel the tiniest dissonance of his plane's fuselage, as if the plane was an extension of his body.
This is the ninth fighter jet he shot down today. In less than 40 minutes of fierce air battles, he shot down nine opponents' planes, almost turning his record from zero to double digits. The captain at high altitude couldn't believe his eyes, he even thought he might be dreaming.
He stretched out his hand and pinched his thigh. Only then did he realize that he was not in a dream. The plane that was chasing down the last Soviet fighter on the battlefield did exist, and it was indeed that Hardman who was driving it. .
Just when the squadron leader confirmed that he was not in a dream, an even more unbelievable thing suddenly appeared in front of his eyes. When the fire was not locked, he made a dumbfounding move.
The pilot of the Soviet fighter jet stretched out his hand and opened his cockpit hatch, and then jumped out of his plane. Not daring to do it, he directly chose the humiliating way of skydiving and left this sky that was destined to be remembered by history.
"..." The squadron leader didn't know what to say at this moment. This was the first time he saw a pilot in a place who was too frightened to escape by parachuting early, and it was also the first time he believed that someone could shoot down the opponent without bullets. airplane.
"Hardman calls the leader! Red 1, I'm black 1, call!" Hardman's childish voice suddenly came from the headset, and the squadron leader's chaotic thoughts finally cleared up: "Hear, I'm Red 1, Hardman... What's the matter with you..."
"Is this plane shot down by me?" Hardman asked a little nervously. If someone heard his voice at this time, they would definitely not think of the fighter jet that was one against ten in the sky just now. At this time Hardman's voice is like a child, a child asking whether others are satisfied with his work.
"Forget it..." The squadron leader replied dumbfounded. He really wants to return to the ground now, and think about the incredible things that happened today. Every moment of Hardman's fighter jet just now lingers in his mind. , so that his heart could not calm down at all.
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Long Ling caught a cold yesterday, thank you for your concern. The update resumed today, and I have the cheek to ask everyone for monthly tickets, subscriptions, and recommendation tickets. Thank you for your support!