You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

(Important: This book has also been banned, I'm speechless. I'll revise it first, and from now on there will only be 2 updates a day. I'll owe the bonus chapters for gifts for now, but I'll continue to add them if they can be released.)

(I'm really confused right now, sorry.)

Major Hidetsugu Nakajima jogged over, his face ashen.

He had a general understanding of the battle: one squadron was almost completely wiped out, and the other squadron fled without a fight, achieving zero results and almost triggering a diplomatic dispute.

A disgrace, an unprecedented disgrace!

He looked at the dejected and terrified fighter pilots of the Third Squadron by the runway, especially Captain Nakamoto who was leading the squadron, and his anger surged.

"Baka yarou!"

Major Nakajima roared, strode up to Captain Nakamoto, and swung his arm—

"Snapped!"

A crisp, resounding slap landed squarely on the left cheek of Captain Nakamoto, the commander of the fighter squadron.

Nakamoto's head snapped to the side after being hit, and a clear handprint instantly appeared on his face, swelling up at a visible speed.

"Yes, sir!" Nakamoto dared not resist in the slightest, immediately put his legs together, lowered his head, and responded loudly.

"Trash! Coward! Disgrace to the Imperial Air Force!" Major Nakajima roared, slapping the other man's right cheek with his backhand.

"Snapped!"

Nakamoto's right cheek also swelled up quickly, making it symmetrical now.

"Withdrawing without engaging the enemy, causing the Second Company to fight alone and suffer heavy losses. Where is your Bushido spirit? Has it been eaten by dogs?!"

Major Nakajima grew angrier with each curse, and kicked Captain Nakamoto hard in the stomach.

"Ugh!" Nakamoto groaned, staggering back several steps after being kicked, and fell to the ground with a thud. He clutched his stomach, his face pale, but he still dared not utter a sound. He struggled to his feet, stood up straight, and bowed his head, saying, "Yes, Your Majesty, I am incompetent. Please punish me."

"Punishment? You think that's all?" Major Nakajima's eyes were bloodshot as he glanced at the other silent pilots of the Third Squadron.

Then, a scene that left the ground crew and other staff dumbfounded unfolded.

Major Nakajima then used both hands to slap each of the returning fighter pilots as they went along the line.

"Snap! — Hi!"

"Snap! — Hi!"

"Snap! — Hi!"

The crisp sound of slaps and the Japanese pilots' loud responses, despite the pain, rose and fell.

Major Nakajima was clearly enraged and hit extremely hard. Sometimes, after slapping someone, he would not be satisfied and would kick them to the ground.

Soon, a row of Japanese pilots, their faces swollen like pigs' heads and looking utterly disheveled, appeared along the runway.

"A disgrace! A disgrace indeed!" Major Nakajima roared, panting heavily, "An entire air squadron was beaten back like turkeys by ground-based anti-aircraft fire."

They lost five valuable aircraft and excellent pilots.

The other squadron was so terrified that they didn't even dare to fight and fled back with their tails between their legs.

If this news gets out, I, Hidejima Nakajima, and indeed the entire Army Air Force, will become a laughingstock throughout the world.

He knew that this was not something that could be easily dismissed with a few slaps.

The higher-ups will definitely investigate, my colleagues will laugh at me, and those bastards in the navy will make a big deal out of it.

He couldn't let it go like this; he had to save face, even if it meant resorting to the most extreme methods.

Captain Noguchi of the 2nd Company has already died, so...

Major Nakajima's bloodshot eyes were fixed on Captain Nakamoto, who had just struggled to stand up straight again.

He suddenly drew his katana from his waist, and without even taking off the scabbard, threw it on the ground in front of Captain Nakamoto with a loud bang.

The meaning couldn't be clearer.

To commit seppuku in repentance, or to wash away the shame in another way.

Captain Nakamoto stared at the knife on the ground, his body trembling violently, his swollen facial muscles twitching.

Major Nakajima's cold voice rang out: "3rd Squadron, all Type 95s that are still airworthy, immediately inspect and refuel them."

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:

"This time, we've replaced them with specially made 250-kilogram high-explosive bombs, and all the aircraft are fully fueled."

Captain Nakamoto looked up abruptly, his eyes filled with terror; he seemed to understand.

No need to drop bombs... Fully fueled... The biggest bomb ever...

This meant they had to pilot planes loaded with fuel and bombs directly into the enemy.

-----

At 3:20 p.m., twelve Type 95 fighter jets taxied off the runway in succession.

Due to the mismatch of the pylons, the 250 kg bombs mounted underneath were directly and rigidly connected to the fuselage, making it impossible to release them for dropping. The only way to use them was by ramming them.

Compared to biplanes, the excessive weight of the 250-kilogram bomb made these aircraft exceptionally cumbersome, requiring a longer runway to take off and flying very slowly.

Unlike usual, these planes were not in formation, but rather spread out far apart.

After all, if the formation is too dense, and the bombs on one plane are detonated by anti-aircraft fire, then all the surrounding planes will suffer.

In the cockpit of each aircraft, the pilots wore a white cloth band around their heads, with the four characters "Seven Lives to Serve the Country" written in haste in the center with a brush.

Captain Nakamoto sat in the cockpit of the lead plane, his hands gripping the control stick tightly.

His face was still swollen, but he could no longer feel the pain.

All that remained in his eyes was madness.

In order to ensure that these pilots could complete their missions, Major Nakajima not only gave them large amounts of alcohol, but also large amounts of drugs.

Now, they have all evolved into "ice archers", and they are all extremely excited.

-----

"Brigadier General, enemy planes are coming again from the direction of Hongqiao. Twelve of them, single-engine, at very low altitude, and their speed... not fast, and their formation is loose."

Lin Feng grabbed the binoculars and rushed to the window.

Sure enough, a string of black dots appeared on the distant horizon, flying low and slowly, with no tactical formation whatsoever, like a flock of drunken birds.

But it was precisely this abnormality that set off alarm bells in his mind.

"Something's wrong... Notify all air defense units to open fire at full speed, don't conserve ammunition. Open fire as soon as they enter maximum range, quick!"

Lin Feng yelled into the phone.

He had a bad feeling.

The Japanese aren't stupid. They were just beaten so badly, why would they dare to come back?

And in such a chaotic way?

Unless... they have no intention of going back at all.

The anti-aircraft firepower deployed on the rooftop and surrounding buildings roared once again.

"Thump thump thump thump—!"

"Da da da da—!"

The barrage of comments once again filled the sky.

This time, the attacking Japanese planes behaved extremely strangely.

They made almost no effective evasive maneuvers, only slightly adjusting their course, stubbornly and straight toward the buildings.

Shells and bullets kept hitting them.

A large chunk of the left wing of a Type 95 aircraft was torn off by a 20mm shell. The aircraft immediately went out of control and spun around. After crashing, it caused a huge explosion on the Japanese-occupied position.

The explosion looked even more powerful than a 240mm high-explosive shell.

Another Type 95 was hit in the cockpit by an M2HB bullet, killing the pilot instantly. The plane lost control, but its inertia still caused it to crash into the roof of Fengmao Department Store, trailing black smoke.

"They've gone mad! The Japanese have gone mad! It's a suicide bombing!"

Captain Nakamoto's aircraft bore the brunt of the fire.

The wings were riddled with holes, the landing gear was knocked off, and the windshield was shattered.

His head was also lacerated by shrapnel, bleeding profusely, and the flesh on half of his cheek was rolled up.

But under the influence of the medication, he felt no pain, his eyes fixed on the gray rooftop that was getting closer and closer.

"That's it... crash into it..."

He muttered to himself, pressing his body against the control lever, pushing the throttle valve all the way down.

Several 37mm shells hit the middle of his fuselage almost simultaneously.

boom!

A violent explosion occurred in the air, and the plane instantly broke in two.

But the burning front half of the fuselage, along with the 250-kilogram bomb, driven by inertia and residual kinetic energy, still flew in an arc like a stone thrown by a catapult, crashing heavily onto the roof of the building.