Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 328 The Final Lament

Looking further afield, beyond the continuous Taihang Mountains, we arrive at a vast plain west of Meng County.

The terrain here is flat and open, surrounded by dense primeval forests, forming a natural green barrier.

In the past, this was a place where villagers from the surrounding villages gathered firewood, hunted, and picked wild produce.

However, just six months ago, this peaceful land was requisitioned by the Shanxi militia under the pretext of military use.

A vast area of ​​five square kilometers, centered on the center of the plain, was designated as a military restricted zone.

Rings of barbed wire rose from the ground, completely isolating the area from the outside world. On the towering watchtowers, armed sentries vigilantly watched every movement around them 24 hours a day.

Moreover, Su Yaoyang even stationed a full-strength garrison infantry regiment here, comprising infantry, engineers, and even an air defense company, raising the defense level of this restricted area to an extremely high level. Any non-military personnel who dared to approach would be shot dead on the spot without hesitation.

This is the base of the Third Flight Squadron, the newest and most mysterious unit in the Shanxi militia.

As Su Yaoyang's newest and sharpest aerial weapon, he naturally wouldn't skimp on it. He equipped this squadron with a brand-new type of fighter jet.

This fighter jet was later hailed as the "King of Fighters" in World War II, creating countless legends in the skies of the war.

At this moment, under the cover of camouflage netting, rows of brand-new P-51 fighter jets are quietly parked on the runway. Their sleek and elegant silver fuselages reflect a cold and deadly luster in the afterglow of the setting sun, like a flock of metal falcons poised to take flight.

The first rays of morning sunlight, like molten gold, spilled across the massive airport on the western outskirts of Meng County.

The cold, metallic fuselage reflected a magnificent yet austere light, illuminating the sharply defined faces of the hundreds of pilots and ground crew lined up below.

They were all wearing brand-new German-style orange flight jackets, standing tall and looking at the man standing on the wing of the P-51 Mustang fighter plane at the very front... Ye Qifeng, the squadron leader of the Third Flight Group.

Ye Qifeng wasn't particularly tall, but he stood ramrod straight. He didn't use a megaphone, yet his calm and powerful voice clearly reached everyone's ears.

"brothers!"

Ye Qifeng said loudly.

"We've been hiding here like cowards for almost half a year! We're touching these precious things every day, but we can only go around in circles in the sky. I ask you, aren't you frustrated?!"

"It's so frustrating!" Hundreds of people roared in unison, as if they wanted to unleash all the pent-up frustration they had accumulated over the past six months.

"Very good!" Ye Qifeng nodded in satisfaction. "I'm telling you, from today onwards, we no longer have to feel aggrieved."

Because President Su has already released us, this herd of wild horses that were locked in cages!

He pointed to the gleaming silver P-51 fighter jet beneath him, his voice suddenly rising in pitch.

"Look at your comrades-in-arms beside you, look at the warhorses you are about to mount."

They are not the junk of those Japanese devils, but spears in the sky of this era.

"This was given to us by Commander Su. We have only one mission: to use this latest fighter jet to tear any Japanese aircraft that dares to appear before us to shreds!"

He paused for a moment, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone.

"In just a few tens of minutes, we will be joining the first and second squadrons and the bomber squadron to knock off the Japanese devils' turtle shell in Yangquan."

And we are the sharpest blade paving the way for them.

Our job is to clear the skies for the bomber squadron, ensuring that every single one of their bombs lands safely on the Japanese devils' heads! Do you all understand?

"Understood!" came a deafening roar in response to Ye Qifeng.

"Now, I command!"

Ye Qifeng spread his arms wide, “Young men of the Third Flight Squadron, get in your cockpits, start the engines… let all the Japanese devils in Shanxi, no, let all the Japanese devils in North China hear the neighing of our wild horses!”

"Long live... Long live..."

The roars were like thunderclaps from a clear sky, suddenly exploding out!
At Ye Qifeng's command, the once calm airport instantly came to life.

The pilots dispersed as quickly as possible and rushed to their aircraft.

Ground crew quickly removed the camouflage netting and pulled out the landing gear anchors.

The click of the canopy closing, the coughing sound of the engine starting, and the howling wind generated by the propeller turning on all transformed this peaceful plain into a volcano about to erupt in just a few minutes!

"Mustang One is calling the control tower, requesting takeoff."

Ye Qifeng put on his oxygen mask, skillfully pushed the throttle valve, and the P-51D fighter jet beneath him let out a high-pitched roar.

The pale green light on the cockpit dashboard reflected in his calm, unwavering eyes.

"Tower received. Runway cleared. Wind direction: northwest. Wind force: Level 2. Cleared for takeoff... I wish you many kills." The tower's clear and calm voice came through the radio.

"Wild Horse received."

Ye Qifeng released the brake and pushed the throttle valve all the way down.

"Om..."

The Rolls-Royce Merlin engine behind him, with a power of 1,500 horsepower, instantly unleashed its full potential, and the powerful push pressed Ye Qifeng firmly into the seat.

The entire plane resembled an enraged bull, charging wildly forward on the runway.

The earth rushed past beneath my feet, and the signal lights on both sides of the runway formed two blurry bands of light.

After gliding for less than two hundred meters, Ye Qifeng gently pulled the control stick back, and the silver fuselage lightly leaped, instantly breaking free from the ground's constraints, like a sharp arrow shot into the sky, whistling as it pierced into the golden sky.

After the fighter jet took off, Ye Qifeng pressed the button, and with a soft "click," the landing gear steadily retracted into the belly of the aircraft.

Immediately afterward, behind him, the second, the third, the fourth... one after another, P-51 fighter jets took off from the runway with extremely high efficiency, like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

Within minutes, hundreds of Mustang fighter jets took off.

They quickly assembled around Ye Qifeng's aircraft, forming a huge, well-spaced attack formation. Their navigation lights flickered against the gradually dimming sky, like a deadly galaxy made up of stars that was migrating.

"Attention all units!"

Ye Qifeng's voice echoed throughout the formation via radio: "Climb to 3,000 meters, maintain 'Ronan' formation, target Yangquan, full speed ahead!"

"receive."

"receive."

A unified response came through the radio.

The massive aircraft formation slightly adjusted its direction, and hundreds of Merlin engines simultaneously powered up, converging into an unstoppable steel torrent in the night sky, hurtling eastward toward Yangquan, the Japanese army's distribution center for supplies.

Twenty kilometers north of Yangquan, on a mountain peak called "Langya Mountain".

This is a forward air defense outpost set up by the Japanese army. Several Japanese soldiers are idly guarding a huge Type 90 listening machine that looks like a collection of morning glories.

The more accurate name for the so-called "listening device" is a sound wave locator or listening device.

Its origins are not from World War II, but its development and application reached a peak during World War II.

Once aircraft began to be used for bombing and reconnaissance, countries urgently needed a method to detect enemy aircraft at night or in bad weather.

Before the invention of radar, hearing was the most practical and feasible means of long-range detection.

Initially, people simply used their ears to listen, but they soon discovered that this was very inaccurate.

Soon, engineers and scientists began to use acoustic principles to enhance hearing and determine direction, thus inventing the hearing machine.

It uses a large horn or parabolic reflector to collect and amplify the faint sound waves generated by distant aircraft engines.

An array of multiple speakers simulates an enlarged "ear".

The operator would wear headphones connected to different speakers and rotate the device until the sound sounded "balanced" in both headphones (i.e., arriving simultaneously and equally loud). At this point, the device would be pointed in the direction from which the enemy aircraft was approaching.

The temperature was very cold in the morning, especially on the mountain peaks hundreds of meters high, where gusts of cold wind made people shiver.

"Damn it, this awful weather!" A corporal named Ono rubbed his hands together, breathing out white breath into his palms. "The Chinese aren't stupid, how could they possibly come to this godforsaken place in this weather?" "Corporal is right, even if you gave the Chinese ten lives, they wouldn't dare..."

A private first class next to him fawned over him, but before he could finish speaking, his ears suddenly twitched.

"Hmm? Sergeant, listen, what's that sound?"

"What sound could it be? Just the wind," Ono said impatiently.

But soon, he also realized that something was wrong.

That wasn't the sound of the wind.

It was a continuous, low-pitched buzzing sound, as if it came from the depths of hell. At first, it was very faint, but after only a few dozen seconds, the sound grew louder and clearer, carrying a heart-pounding sense of oppression, as if countless giant wasps were swarming in from the western horizon.

"Buzz...buzz buzz buzz..."

The ground began to tremble slightly, and the windows of the outpost cabin made a mournful "click-clack" sound.

"Oh no...it's an airplane!" The private first class, who was in charge of operating the earpiece, turned pale, ripped off his earpiece, and screamed in terror.

Ono jolted awake, ignoring the cold, and scrambled to the music player, putting on the spare headphones.

In an instant, his face turned as pale as that of the private, or even more so.

What came through the headphones was a tremendous roar, like a landslide or a tsunami.

That wasn't the sound of just a few or a dozen planes; it was... it was the deathly roar of hundreds of engines combined.

"Quickly... quickly call the Yangquan garrison command, quick!" Ono's voice became shrill with extreme fear as he pointed tremblingly at the hand-cranked telephone and roared at another soldier.

The call was answered quickly.

"What? You said a large fleet of aircraft was discovered in the west? How many?"

A lazy voice, clearly distrustful, came from the other end of the phone.

"Countless...too many to count."

"At least a hundred, no... maybe more! The noise is too loud! They're flying at high speed towards Yangquan! Request that the air raid sirens be sounded immediately! Immediately!" Ono roared into the microphone.

"A hundred? Ono-kun, have you been frozen senseless by the cold wind?"

The officer on the other end of the phone cursed, "Even if the Chinese have that many planes, how could they possibly send them all out?"

Okay, I'll send fighter jets to check it out. Don't make a fuss..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

At that very moment, streaks of silver, like ghosts, silently swept across the sky above the Langya Mountain outpost.

They flew too high and too fast for the searchlights at the outpost to catch a glimpse of them; all they could see was a fleeting, cold metallic reflection in the clouds.

Immediately afterwards, from the direction of Yangquan, the mournful sound of air raid sirens finally pierced the night sky.

"The Mustang is calling for pirates."

Ye Qifeng's voice rang out three thousand meters above the ground: "The Wild Horse Brigade has arrived at the designated airspace. The sky is clear, and the Japanese devils are still sleeping in their dens. Now, you can begin your performance."

After saying that, he pushed the control stick and led the first squadron like a raptor, diving down towards the brightly lit Japanese airfield in Yangquan.

At the airport, several Type 97 fighter jets were frantically starting their engines, attempting to take off urgently.

"Attention all wingmen."

Ye Qifeng smirked and pressed the fire button on the machine gun as he spoke, "Japanese aircraft spotted on the ground, commence attack!"

The next second, six blazing chains of fire, composed of tracer rounds, descended from the sky, instantly engulfing the few unfortunate Japanese planes on the ground.

The lead Type 97 fighter, whose engine had just started and whose propeller had only spun a few times, along with its terrified pilot in the cockpit, was instantly torn into countless burning fragments by six 12.7mm Browning heavy machine guns.

The armor-piercing incendiary bomb, carrying immense kinetic energy, easily tore through the Japanese aircraft's thin aluminum skin, penetrated the fuel tank, and triggered a violent secondary explosion.

A huge, orange-red fireball suddenly shot into the air, staining everything around it with the color of death.

Looking at the Japanese plane that had turned into a fireball on the ground, Ye Qifeng snorted coldly, pulled the control stick sharply, and the P-51 "Mustang" let out a sharp whistle, instantly breaking away from the barrage of ground anti-aircraft fire with an unbelievable vertical climb, and returned to the high altitude.

The Mustang fighters behind him, like a swarm of sharks smelling blood, followed closely behind, using standard "hit-and-run" tactics to launch devastating strafing attacks on the hangars, fuel depots, ammunition depots, and Japanese aircraft that had not yet taken off.

"Da da da da da..."

"Boom... Boom..."

The piercing sound of machine guns and the continuous explosions echoed throughout Yangquan.

One Japanese plane after another was shot down in mid-air on the tarmac, turning into burning scrap metal.

A hangar was attacked by concentrated fire, its entire roof was blown off, and several planes inside were detonated, triggering an even more terrifying chain of explosions. The flames almost illuminated half the sky.

The Japanese troops on the ground were in complete chaos. Anti-aircraft guns and machine guns futilely spewed fire into the sky, but the P-51s were too fast and too maneuverable. The tracer bullets could only chase their shadows in vain, drawing desperate arcs in the night sky.

"Baka... Take off quickly, take off and meet the enemy!"

On the airport runway, a major from the air force was running and roaring at the top of his lungs.

Amidst the chaos, this major, a pilot with extensive combat experience, braved the hail of bullets and rushed into the cockpit of a Zero fighter.

"Cover me! The time has come to serve the Emperor!"

The major roared and forcefully pushed the throttle valve. His Zero fighter lurched on the runway, narrowly escaping a volley of gunfire before finally pulling up.

"Attention...be careful...a Japanese plane has already taken off, quickly eliminate it." Ye Qifeng's voice rang out on the public channel.

"Squad leader, hand him over to me!" came the voice of his wingman through the headset.

“Okay… Be careful, I’ll cover you.” Ye Qifeng said.

"understand!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a Mustang fighter broke away from the formation and silently circled behind the major like a ghost.

Saito had just climbed to 500 meters and hadn't even had time to see what the enemy looked like when a terrifying "clanging" sound suddenly rang out in the cockpit!
He turned around abruptly and saw a huge silver shadow sweep across his head like a ghost. Then, the right wing of his plane was torn off instantly, as if by an invisible giant hand!

The plane immediately lost its balance and began to spin wildly as it plummeted toward the ground.

"No...no way...what kind of plane is this...!"

These were the last words this major uttered in this world.

A few seconds later, his phone plunged into the ground, turning into an indistinguishable mass of burning metal.

"Well done."

Ye Qifeng gave an approving comment, "Alright, let's get to work. We have more important things to do later."

"Roger that!"

The entire Mustang formation went completely wild, roaming freely over Yangquan Airport, turning any Japanese planes that tried to take off into fireballs.

Looking down from the sky, one after another, brilliant "fireworks" were blooming on the ground, which were the final cries of the Japanese pilots.

Under the relentless barrage of attacks from the Mustang squadron, Yangquan Airport was quickly reduced to piles of wreckage. Despite the desperate fire of the air defense forces guarding the airport, most of the bullets could only fall futilely behind the Mustang fighters.

Half an hour later, the airport was gone. More than 30 planes were destroyed, leaving only piles of burning flames and thick smoke.

After doing all this, Ye Qifeng and his group did not leave, but continued flying towards Yangquan County, where more targets awaited them.

(End of this chapter)