Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 340 Success or Death
On the tarmac of Mengxian Airport, the scorching sun made the wings flash with a blinding white light, which shone straight down the metal skin to the edge of the tarmac, and the reflection hurt the eyes.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of gasoline and the metallic tang of the heatwave, as if it were trying to roast your lungs and throat.

Song Shaojie craned his neck, looking at the vast blue sky, the sunlight leaving a white mark on his retina.

All I could hear was the deep rumble of the engine and the shouts of the ground crew, but the sound of my own heartbeat seemed even more piercing to my ears.

Just as he was lost in thought, Lu Guangbiao beside him was already fully dressed, the zipper of his dark flight suit pulled all the way up to his collarbone, his blouse gleaming faintly in the bright sunlight. He casually patted Song Shaojie's flight cap, a hint of teasing on his lips: "What are you thinking about? Scared?"

Song Shaojie was startled for a moment, then snorted and tried to calm himself down: "Sir, you're being too polite."

Fear? I've never known that word since I can remember. We just bombed those Japanese devils yesterday, I haven't had enough yet.

Although that's what he said, he knew very well what was going on.

Yesterday's air raid was his first combat mission. Piloting a P-51 Mustang, he strafed infantry formations at low altitude, dropping bombs into enemy lines. Watching the thick smoke billow like boiling water, hearing the explosions vibrate in his bones, he felt an exhilarating thrill. But this all came with one condition: air superiority was in their hands.
But today is different.

Today's battle is an aerial combat, a situation where the opposing side is also extending its claws and fangs to chase and bite in the air.

It's not a job where you can just dive down, drop your bombs, and pull up to leave. It's a life-or-death chase where the wings cut through the air, and the balance of power shifts in an instant. One wrong move and you're reduced to a fireball crashing to the ground.

Song Shaojie took a deep breath of the hot air, suppressing the glint in his eyes.

What's the use of being afraid? The moment he stepped into his aunt's house and begged Song Mei to use her connections to get him into the "Wild Horse Brigade," his escape route was sealed off.

From now on, he has only two paths: either to shed blood in the sky, or to kill his enemies and rise above others with military merit.

"Commander Lu, don't leave me behind later. I'm your wingman, so you have to look after me."

He forced a half-serious smile, casually checked the M1919 pistol at his waist, pushed the magazine to make sure it was locked, and then carefully put the gun back into its holster.

Upon hearing this, Lu Guangbiao glanced down at his actions, chuckled, and didn't make a sound of mockery.

The smile was like that of an old wolf watching its cubs sharpen their teeth before going into battle.

He picked up the M1 carbine leaning against the wing with his backhand, pushed the slide handle with his finger, and cocked it cleanly and neatly with a "click." Then he skillfully secured the strap to his left thigh, the movements so fluid that it seemed like a habit he had been practicing for many years.

He patted Song Shaojie on the shoulder, his strength steady and reassuring: "Don't worry, as long as you don't fly away and lose me, I'll make sure you come back safe and sound and drink with the brothers."

The first to take off were the SBD-5 Dauntless dive bombers with their long, narrow fuselages and tucked wingtips.

They taxied along the runway, lifting their wheels and tilting their heads back. Their gray-green fuselages, bearing the Black Hawk logo, looked like steel javelins flying into the sky under the blazing sun.

Immediately afterwards, the P-51D fighters of the Mustang Squadron marched in neat double formations across the runway. The propellers on their noses spun so violently that streaks of hot white vapor could be seen. After gliding for a distance, they suddenly lifted off the ground, retracted their landing gear, and transformed into a trail of silver streaks.

The ground crew by the runway waved their arms, which were covered in engine oil and sweat, and shouted until their voices were hoarse: "Take a triumphant return! Let's teach them a lesson!" Some even chased after the plane for a few steps before stopping to catch their breath.

high altitude.

When the formation arrived at the target area, the scene before them shattered the expectations of some.

What they expected was the Japanese 27th Division scattering and being crippled by bombing, but the reality was: in the blue sky, dozens of Zero fighters were already tracing the path of sunlight, loitering like lazy cats at high altitude, with snow-white wings and round red noses, and a hint of condescending provocation... They were not in a hurry to attack, but waited for you to enter the biting zone before diving down to kill.

This was an ambush, not a chance encounter.

Ye Qifeng, as the commander of the Mustang Squadron, was sitting in the cockpit of the P-51. His gaze pierced through the reflective windshield, and his voice came crisply into the headset: "Mustang squadron, engage the enemy! Bomber squadron, drop bombs as planned, crush the Japanese on the road to dust!"

The instant the command was issued, the silver eagles in the sky split into two streams: the fighters pulled up at full speed to meet the Zeros, while the bomber group continued to press down on the ground along the predetermined dive line.

"boom!"

Dozens of "Dauntless" aircraft swooped down from the sky, their rocket pods under their wings spewing white flames, the six rockets roaring as they tore through the air... The moment they hit the ground, the impact felt like being hammered into a steel drum, and black flames rolled up into thick mushroom-shaped columns.

On the highway, a truck full of infantry was the first to be hit. The rocket pierced the truck bed and exploded instantly, turning the entire vehicle into a fireball. It was overturned by the shock wave and slid upside down on the highway for dozens of meters with a screeching sound, like a saw cutting through wood.

Soldiers and wreckage were thrown to the side of the road, accompanied by a nauseating stench from burning rubber and gasoline.

Immediately after, the ammunition truck following behind that truck was even more unlucky. A rocket hit it and exploded instantly without any pause. A flash of arc-shaped light followed, and hundreds of kilograms of ammunition on board detonated at the same time. The truck turned into a jumble of flying metal skeletons on the spot, and the air was even compressed by the shock wave, creating a transparent ripple that looked like shattered glass.

The SBD-5s, repeatedly diving and pulling up, were like a flock of bloodthirsty eagles, cutting into the fleeing Japanese troops time and time again. The machine guns swept bloodstains along the road, and the dust and figures that were kicked up flew up together.

Meanwhile, another deadly scene was unfolding in the air—a group of Zero fighters, like a school of white-winged sharks, swooped down from high altitude. P-51s rolled to meet them, nose to nose, cannons roared, and tracer rounds drew intersecting red streaks in the air, like a pair of steel teeth closing together.

The battle between the sky and the ground raged to its zenith at this moment.

The sunlight high in the sky was as cold and sharp as a knife, icyly cutting through the endless blue sky. The Zero and P-51 engaged in a brutal aerial battle between the clouds at an altitude of three to four thousand meters.

The roar of the engines, the whistling of the wings cutting through the wind, the feedback and vibration of the control sticks, all transformed into a real tremor in the palms and spines of every pilot.

In Song Shaojie's earpiece, Lu Guangbiao's call sounded exceptionally clear amidst the buzzing noise: "One direction, enemy aircraft."

He immediately applied the rudder to adjust the course, and the nose of the P-51 precisely drew an acute angle, his eyes inside the black reflector fixed on the rapidly approaching point of light in the distance.

As the shadowy figure rapidly approached, thirty-two Zero fighters appeared before them, like a swarm of white sharks covered in blades, their red Hino-maru flashing as they swung about.

When the sun shines behind them, once they tilt their wings, they are like throwing knives with steel blades, moving with speed, climbing and descent in one smooth motion.

Because air support was needed everywhere in Shanxi at that time, the Mustang formation escorting the 27th Division only had about twenty aircraft, putting them at a significant disadvantage in both numbers and airspace position. The Zeros held a high position, allowing them to retreat and maneuver at will, forcing the Mustangs to fight for low altitudes to gain maneuverability. Below, a formation of thirty SBD Dauntless bombers had just completed a barrage of attacks over the 27th Division.

Thick smoke rose from the ground, and the ground explosions continued to spread.

Once their mission was completed, they immediately received orders to return to base... The P-51 squadron held off the Japanese Zero squadrons, ensuring that these bombers could withdraw from the battlefield unscathed.

The P-51, descending rapidly to below 3,000 meters, resembled a silver-gray arrow, nimbly making sharp turns, chasing and weaving, its 12.7 mm machine gun barrel turning a dark red from continuous firing.

After a series of violent turns, Song Shaojie's fighter jet was suddenly alerted by a warning from his comrade in his headset: "Mustang 0567, seven o'clock rear, one Zero!"

A quick glance in the rearview mirror... there was no threat from the tail of his own aircraft, but the Zero fighter to his lower right was trying to take the opportunity to flip up and bite the tail of his wingman.

Tactical reactions had become conditioned reflexes in his muscles. Song Shaojie pulled the stick sharply, the engine whistling as it pulled the nose of the aircraft upward. He then forcefully pushed the stick down, and the Silver Wing dove deep below the Zero, before using a roll to climb above the enemy aircraft.

The intense overload pressed down on his chest as if a boulder were pressing down on it, making his breathing short and rapid, but he gritted his teeth and precisely calculated the angle brought out by the spiral.

The next second, the Zero fighter that was chasing his wingman indeed flew into his sights—

"Da da da da..."

Six 12.7mm Browning pistols fired simultaneously, unleashing a deadly rain of armor-piercing incendiary shells that struck the Zero's wing roots and nose from hundreds of meters away. The propellant ignited between the aluminum and aviation fuel, turning the Zero into an orange fireball that tumbled and plummeted from the clouds.

The shattered wing left a trail of sparks and debris in the air.

Over the radio, Lu Guangbiao's voice, accompanied by the sound of airflow, entered his ears: "Well done, Wild Horse 0567."

The intense tremor in Song Shaojie's chest and the rapid breathing all coalesced into a shout, which he almost roared with laughter: "I shot down one! Commander Lu, I shot down a Zero!"

His voice was filled with undisguised excitement, and he even completely forgot that the battle was still ongoing... In his peripheral vision, flames, tracer bullets, and friendly aircraft pulling up maneuvers intertwined to create a deadly steel ballet.

But Lu Guangbiao frowned even more in the cockpit. This young master, who had joined the team through Song Mei's connections, had broken military discipline again on the radio... In the midst of air combat, being carried away by celebrating was the easiest way for enemy planes to find an opening.

Just as Song Shaojie was celebrating by shouting that he had shot down a Zero fighter, he did not notice that another Zero fighter was rushing towards him. He only came to his senses when Lu Guangbiao reminded him, but it was too late to dodge. Both of them pressed the firing button at the same time, and their fuselages brushed past each other.

The explosion on the left wing caused the plane to shudder violently and plummet rapidly.

"Damn it!"

Just as Lu Guangbiao was about to remind his careless wingman to be careful, he heard Song Shaojie's voice again over the radio: "I've been hit and am making an emergency landing."

"Wild Horse 0560, 0564, 0569, immediately cover 0567's evacuation."

The other formations launched a full-scale attack on the enemy aircraft.

Cold sweat instantly broke out on Lu Guangbiao's back. Looking at the 0567 with thick smoke billowing from its wing, Lu Guangbiao immediately ordered other aircraft to rush to the rescue.

If possible, we must escort him safely away from this battlefield; perhaps he still has a chance to escape.

Otherwise, he simply couldn't imagine what the consequences would be if Song Shaojie were left behind in the marching column of tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers.

"Sir...Sir...0567 has been hit. Request immediate reinforcements to cover his escape and dispatch ground troops for emergency rescue."

Just as Lu Guangbiao was calling the base, Song Shaojie also felt the shadow of death for those few brief seconds, a moment that felt like a brush with death.

A piece of his wing was knocked off; it's unclear whether it was a fragment or a stray bullet that hit the cooler under the fuselage. The liquid-cooled engine immediately experienced a surge, and the coolant evaporated into steam due to the high heat, leaving a trail of white smoke behind the tail.

"Damn it!" Song Shaojie cursed as he watched the cooler temperature on the indicator rise to 130 degrees Celsius in an instant.

"Mustang 0567, try to fly over this area, and absolutely do not make an emergency landing here."

As Lu Guangbiao watched the plane trailing black smoke from its wings and white smoke from its tail, his heart raced. If he had been more careful or shot down the Zero first, this wouldn't have happened.

"Understood!" At this moment, Song Shaojie's breathing became more and more rapid. He responded to his comrade's call while trying to calm himself down.

The cockpit was now filled with the stench of burning electrical wires. They had to get out of there; otherwise, if they ended up in the Japanese devils' lair, the consequences were obvious.

Just as they were talking, Lu Guangbiao noticed that the black smoke coming out of the wing of the plane piloted by Song Shaojie had begun to decrease. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. It must be that the self-sealing fuel tank had worked. At least for now, there was no need to worry about the wing being completely burned off.

"Wild Horse 0567, climb as high as possible. We are less than 20 kilometers away from our troops in this area. If the engine fails, we can try to glide..."

In the earpiece, Lu Guangbiao's voice began to become intermittent. Song Shaojie knew that the company commander was instructing him on how to escape. It was possible that the communication radio had been burned, and only half of the company commander's words were transmitted.

At this point, the plane with a large hole burned in its left wing was moving slower and slower, and the engine was vibrating more and more frequently after the damage.

Song Shaojie gripped the trembling joystick and gave a helpless, bitter smile. It seemed his experience was still too limited.

They actually made such a basic mistake. They were so overjoyed after shooting down an enemy plane that they started shouting and yelling, forgetting that they were on a dangerous battlefield. As a result, the Japanese took advantage of the chaos and fired at them.

Thinking of this, Song Shaojie felt sorry for his squad leader and his aunt Song Mei.

He couldn't help but touch the M1911 pistol beside his thigh. He never expected that it would come in handy on his first combat mission. It seemed that he was really going to die trying today.

(End of this chapter)