Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 334 Fatigue
The autumn sunlight filtered through the sycamore leaves in the courtyard, casting dappled shadows. The Su Mansion, located in the Shanxi militia's headquarters, was bustling with activity.

Under the locust tree in the front yard, several servants were taking in the bedding that had been aired out the night before and grinding newly bought beans to prepare for dinner.

At this moment, Song Mei's bedroom was extremely quiet.

The wooden window was half-closed, and the thin gauze curtains swayed gently in the breeze. Warm yellow morning light filtered through the fine fibers, enveloping the room in a soft glow.

Song Mei lay on her side on the couch, her lower body gently covered by a silk quilt. The curves of her pregnant belly were already quite obvious... round and bulging, like a small river of life being gently nurtured.

Her breathing was even, and her brows showed signs of fatigue. Even in her sleep, her right hand was still instinctively protecting the little life inside her.

Song Mei was in the later stages of her pregnancy, making her movements cumbersome. In addition, she had been on intensive military missions for the past few months, so Su Yaoyang repeatedly told her to rest and not to worry about the affairs of the field hospital.

Therefore, the management of the field hospital is now jointly handled by two vice presidents and several senior nurses.

At the other end of the courtyard, Xiao Lu was wearing a tight-fitting cheongsam with an apron on, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her slender, fair arms. She was instructing two maids to fetch water from the well while supervising the fire in the kitchen.

Her movements were swift and efficient; having once been a personal maid, she was intimately familiar with household chores.

Especially since Su Yaoyang spends most of his time on the front lines, Song Mei hasn't been managing the household much since she became pregnant.

Xiao Lu was in charge of almost the entire operation of the Su family's inner quarters.

She was responsible for arranging meals, taking care of Song Mei's daily life, and supervising the entry and exit of supplies in the mansion. Even so, she still managed to arrange everything in an orderly manner.

Just as she wiped her hands, preparing to go to the backyard to check on the drying herbs, footsteps sounded from the gate. Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, hurried over, his face showing hesitation and slight nervousness. He bowed slightly to her and said in a low voice:

"Second Madam... A young man in his early twenties came in from outside, saying he wanted to see Doctor Song... uh, that is, First Madam."

Xiao Lu's eyebrows twitched, and she raised her eyes to carefully observe the gatekeeper's expression.

Those who come directly to Song Mei's door at this time of year are probably not ordinary people.

"Who is it? Have you found out?" Xiao Lu gently wiped the sweat from her hands with a rag next to the kitchen and asked softly.

“He doesn’t look like a local.” Old Zhang replied hesitantly. “He was dressed neatly and cleanly. He said he had come from a long distance and asked me to bring something so that the Madam would see it and know who he was.”

Upon hearing this, a hint of surprise flashed across Xiao Lu's eyes.

She turned her head and glanced at the pine wood corridor leading to the backyard, which was the direction of Song Mei's sleeping room—sunlight dappled the wooden floor under the thin gauze curtains, exuding a peaceful atmosphere.

"Where's the stuff?"

"it's here."

After Old Zhang finished speaking, he handed Xiao Lu a jade pendant.

After carefully examining the jade pendant, Xiao Lu said to Old Zhang, "You take him to the front hall to serve tea first, and I'll go tell Sister Mei."

"Okay." Old Zhang left the front hall after hearing this.

Xiao Lu took the jade pendant to the backyard, woke up Song Mei, told him what had just happened, and handed him the jade pendant.

More than ten minutes later.

With Xiao Lu's help, Song Mei stepped into the front hall.

Having just woken up, Song Mei's fair face still carried a slight, sleepy glow, with a few strands of hair falling loose at her temples. But upon seeing the person in the hall, her pupils suddenly contracted.

He was a young man in his early twenties, whose features vaguely resembled hers, but his expression was shrouded in sadness.

His knees slammed heavily to the ground the instant Song Mei stepped in, his voice trembling and choked with sobs: "Auntie..."

Song Mei paused, as if caught in a memory, and hesitated before asking, "You... are Xiao Jie?"

Tears welled up in the other person's eyes, and she nodded eagerly, "It's me, Auntie."

Song Mei instinctively asked, "Where are my brother and sister-in-law? Why didn't they come?"

These words seemed to touch the most vulnerable chord in the man's heart. His throat trembled, and then he couldn't help but burst into tears, "Aunt... my parents... they're all gone!"

Mengxian Airport
The air was thick with the smell of jet fuel, engine oil, and burnt rubber in the early morning.

At the end of the runway, the propeller of a P-51 Mustang fighter jet gradually slowed down. The aircraft made too much movement during landing, causing it to crash heavily onto the runway. The aircraft bounced several times on the runway and almost overran the runway.

Accompanied by the screeching sound of tires rubbing against concrete, a plume of blue smoke hissed out from the wheels.

The pilot released his hands from the control stick, his shoulders slumped as if all his strength had been released, and his head tilted slightly on the bulletproof headrest. The fighter jet glided for more than 100 meters on the runway before coming to a complete stop.

The propellers continued to slowly blow air, kicking up a cloud of sand and sending tiny sparks flying under the wings.

The yellow ambulance and truck with the words "Aircraft Maintenance" that had been waiting by the runway rushed over like arrows, and the maintenance soldiers quickly climbed onto the fuselage by stepping on the wing roots.

The cockpit canopy slid open suddenly, and several hands stained black with oil quickly unbuckled the pilot's seatbelt and carefully lifted him out—the man's flight suit was soaked with sweat, he was breathing rapidly, and there were pale lines on the corners of his mouth due to the lack of oxygen during high-intensity flight.

"Quick! Get him to the infirmary!"

"Be careful to support his legs so he doesn't bump them."

"Also, he should continue wearing his oxygen mask!"

The group of people hurriedly lifted him into the ambulance, the door slammed shut, and then the urgent sirens and the roar of the engine blended together as the vehicle sped off towards the hospital, kicking up dust.

The heat wave in the center of the runway gradually dissipated as the Mustang fighter engines shut down, but the pilots and officers who remained on the sidelines felt a chill that lingered for a long time.

A major-ranking officer walked toward Ye Qifeng with a stern face.

"Squadron Leader, we can't go on like this!" the major said urgently. "If we keep sending out these high-intensity combat missions, even if the brothers are made of iron, they will be worn down." Ye Qifeng silently raised his eyes and looked at the distant mountain ridge. It was still dark there, and the morning mist was almost gone. It was the time when enemy planes were most frequently appearing.

For a whole week, the Mustang Squadron maintained frontline escort and bombing missions almost 24 hours a day. Due to prolonged fatigue combat, the pilots of the Mustang Squadron slept an average of less than six hours.

"I am clear."

Ye Qifeng took a deep breath, his eyes filled with anxiety and a resolute determination. "I will report to General Su immediately and request a reduction in the frequency of air support... at least, to give the brothers a breather."

We can't gamble with our brothers' lives; training a pilot isn't easy.

Upon hearing this, the major nodded emphatically: "Yes."

In the hangar not far away, another group of pilots were dragging their heavy steps toward the assembly point, their backs stretched long.

Some were still laughing and chatting with their comrades, but the slight stagger in their steps spoke volumes more than any words.
Since the counterattack against Niangziguan and Xinkou on September 26, this major battle in Shanxi has captivated the attention of high-ranking officials on both sides of the conflict and the general public across the country.

Although this battle was not comparable in scale to the Battle of Shanghai or the Battle of Wuhan, which involved more than a million troops, its significance was no less.

It should be understood that with the recapture of Taiyuan, the eyes of the entire nation were focused on this place. Everyone knew that the Japanese would never stand idly by and watch the Chinese take back this provincial capital, and would inevitably do everything in their power to launch a counterattack.

If Taiyuan is recaptured by the Japanese, it will prove that the previous victory was just a flash in the pan.

However, if Taiyuan had been held, it would have shattered the myth of the Japanese army's invincibility and proven that the Chinese people were capable of defeating the Japanese army in a major battle involving hundreds of thousands of people in Yichang. This would have had a tremendous impact on the confidence of the Chinese military and civilians in the victory of the War of Resistance.

In response, the Shanxi militia, the Eighth Route Army, and the Jin-Sui Army formed an unusual alliance and launched an offensive against the Japanese forces at Niangziguan and Xinkou. Yan Xishan also acted generously, not only paying Su Yaoyang 20 million silver dollars but also bringing out his own militia.

Seeing that even Yan Laoxi was so agreeable, what could Su Yaoyang say?

Originally intending only to send air support, he not only dispatched two armored regiments, two artillery regiments and three infantry regiments, but also ordered the other six infantry regiments and two supplementary regiments that were resting in Wutai County, Meng County and Dingxiang County to enter a state of combat readiness and be ready to support the front line at any time.

Not only that, he also dispatched two motor transport regiments and more than a thousand trucks from the logistics department to transport supplies to the front line day and night. Various weapons, ammunition, food and medicines were delivered to the front line like a flowing river.

As a result, not only are ground troops engaged in fierce fighting, but the Shanxi Militia Flight Squadron, which is currently China's most powerful air force, is also under tremendous pressure.

Today, the Shanxi Militia Air Force has developed into the most elite and complete air superiority force in the country. Among them, the Pirate Squadron and the Thunder Squadron have relatively stable mission execution patterns. They can stay in the air for about two hours on a mission and quickly return to the field to rest after fuel and physical strength are consumed.

But the newly formed Mustang Brigade is completely different.

The P-51 Mustang fighters they were flying were designed for long-range escort missions, and with the addition of external fuel tanks, they could stay in the air for up to eight hours.

To a layperson, this sounds like an advantage.

The long cruising time and wide reaction range are all part of the mission, but any pilot knows that such long-range missions are physically and mentally exhausting.

In the cramped cockpit, pilots must maintain a high level of concentration for extended periods of time.

With eyes fixed on the instrument panel and searching the edges of the field of vision for possible enemy aircraft, the body constantly made minor adjustments to respond to sudden turbulence from the high-altitude airflow.

If intercepted by enemy aircraft during a long-range mission, the aircraft must immediately enter a high-speed dogfight mode, pushing their physical strength and endurance to the limit within just a few minutes.

The intense G-force impact would cause your vision to black out at the edges, your heart to pound, and your arms to feel numb and tingly from the heavy resistance of the joystick.

They continued like this for a whole week, and the pilots of the Mustang Flying Squadron undertook this task almost day after day in this battle for air superiority.

First, they escorted bomber groups to strike Japanese troop concentrations, then patrolled the front lines to prevent enemy aircraft from launching sneak attacks. They gritted their teeth and persevered for the limited time that fuel could support until they returned to base.

This is no longer just a contest of weapons and firepower, but a contest of human will and body against time and death.

The pilots of the Mustang Flying Squadron persevered for a whole week in this high-intensity battle, thanks to their indomitable will.

Even if pilots work their hardest, accidents are inevitable. Just like the P-5 we just saw, the pilot was so exhausted that an accident occurred, resulting in damage to the aircraft and injuries to the pilot.

Inside the command post outside Niangziguan Pass, the autumn wind outside the window carried the smell of gunpowder and dust, rushing into the room with a pungent odor.

Su Yaoyang gently placed the heavy black microphone back on the stand, his hand slightly numb from holding it for so long.

His gaze lingered in the air for a moment before turning to Pi Ruoyu, who was standing to the side.

There was a hint of unease in the other person's eyes, clearly having caught a bad feeling from Su Yaoyang's expression.

"Ye Qifeng reports."

Su Yaoyang spoke slowly, his voice tinged with helplessness, "This morning, another pilot made a mistake during landing due to over-fatigue. Although he wasn't lost in the air combat, it still resulted in non-combat casualties... and even the aircraft's landing gear was damaged."

His brow furrowed slightly. "It seems the pilot's physical and mental state has reached its limit."

Pi Ruoyu shook his head with a wry smile, the lenses of his glasses reflecting a dim yellow light: "Didn't we expect this? It's just... we originally expected the fatigue to reach its turning point in half a month, but we didn't expect it to only last seven days."

"Yes." Su Yaoyang sighed softly, one hand behind his back and the other pointing at the map.

"It seems we underestimated the toll of prolonged combat... and also underestimated the brutality of the pilot profession."

A silence that lasted for several minutes.

After a while, Su Yaoyang suddenly raised his head and said, "Immediately notify Ye Qifeng that the Wild Horse Squadron should stop flying immediately and all personnel should rest for a day."

Under Pi Ruoyu's slightly surprised gaze, he continued, "Starting the day after tomorrow, the number of sorties for the Mustang Squadron pilots shall not exceed twice a day, and each mission shall not exceed two hours... This order shall take effect immediately and there shall be no room for negotiation."

Pi Ruoyu frowned and cautiously reminded him: "Chief... in this way, the Jin-Sui Army and the Eighth Route Army in the Xinkou direction will receive much less air support."

Su Yaoyang said unhappily, "Less is less! Does that mean they can't fight if they don't have some air support?"

He sniffed, making a stuffy sound: "If anyone has a problem with this, let them come and talk to me in person!"

(End of this chapter)