Chapter 220: New Fighter Planes
As night fell, the ink-blue velvet sky was studded with cold stars, and the biting November wind howled through the valley like tireless wild beasts, stinging people’s cheeks.
However, on the relatively flat and open ground of Jinsha Ridge Airport, a different scene was unfolding at that moment—it was enveloped in a warm and enthusiastic orange-red glow.
Over a dozen massive bonfires blazed like flowers of flame blooming in the snowy night, illuminating the faces of hundreds of people around them in bright red.
The flames crackled, with sparks occasionally bursting out, tracing brief and brilliant paths in the pitch-black night sky before quickly extinguishing.
The rich aroma of burning pine wood, mixed with the scorched fragrance of roasting meat, permeated the cold air, dispelling the harsh chill and igniting passion in people’s hearts.
To welcome this group of elite airmen from afar, Su Yaoyang specially ordered a grand bonfire party to be held tonight at Jinsha Ridge Airport!
Despite the scarcity of supplies and rudimentary conditions these days, Su Yaoyang did everything possible to make this welcome event perfect.
He sent people to buy over a dozen plump goats and two fat oxen from nearby villagers at high prices, and even several squealing pigs ready for slaughter.
These rare “hard dishes” in normal times were now cleaned and skewered on thick wooden sticks, roasted over the bonfires by dedicated cooks taking turns.
Golden oil sizzled under the flames’ heat, dripping onto the burning charcoal and igniting even more vigorous flames and enticing aromas.
The cooks occasionally sprinkled coarse salt, chili powder, and some unknown spices on the meat; that intense mix of meaty, scorched, and spiced scents drilled straight into people’s noses, stirring up hunger and making mouths water.
Besides the “main dishes” like whole roasted lamb, whole roasted beef, and roast suckling pig, there were also big pots of stewed meat chunks, steaming mixed vegetable stews, and all-you-can-eat steamed buns, Spam luncheon meat, biscuits, chocolate, cola, and sorghum rice.
The drinks were even more varied; Su Yaoyang, who had a matter converter, was never stingy in this regard, offering imported whiskey, brandy, rum, beer, champagne, as well as homemade local brews or Xifeng wine, Fen wine, and soy sauce aroma liquor.
Hundreds of people—including the newly joined thirty-seven pilots, the American instructor group led by Doolittle, the original members of the militia aviation squadron, soldier representatives from the engineer battalion, construction worker representatives from the airport, and officers under Su Yaoyang—were now gathered around the bonfires, sitting on the ground in a warm and harmonious atmosphere.
Su Yaoyang held a large bowl filled with beer, stood up, and his loud voice rang out by the bonfire: “Brothers! Friends! Today is a joyous day for our Shanxi Militia! We welcome Major Cheng Rufeng and his thirty-six brothers!
They are the elites of our Chinese Air Force! They are our warriors against Japan! Their arrival makes our Shanxi Militia even stronger! It bolsters our confidence to defeat the Japanese invaders!”
“To welcome our heroes and celebrate our impending victory! I propose we all raise our glasses! Bottoms up!”
“Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Hundreds of voices shouted in unison, shaking the wilderness! They raised their bowls, cups, and even enamel mugs used for drinking water, downing the liquor inside in one gulp!
The fiery liquor burned like flames from throat to stomach, instantly igniting everyone’s enthusiasm!
Cheng Rufeng also held a bowl of wine, standing up to represent the new pilots, his face glowing red in the bonfire light, eyes bright and resolute: “Commander Su, brothers of the militia, and allies from America.
I, Cheng Rufeng, on behalf of all the new pilot brothers, thank everyone for the warm hospitality! Though we come from all corners, from today on, we share one name—Shanxi Militia pilots! We have one common goal—to drive the Japanese invaders out of China!”
“We bring modest strength, but more importantly, hearts sworn to defend the country to the death! Rest assured, Commander Su, rest assured, brothers! We will not let you down! As long as the skies of our motherland need us, we will pilot war eagles and fight the enemy to the end! No return until Loulan is conquered!”
“Good!”
“Well said!”
Another thunderous round of applause and cheers erupted!
The young pilots, unrestrained, some danced impromptu around the bonfires, others sang loudly, belting out stirring air force war songs that carried far into the quiet snowy night.
“Aviation team, flying generals, eyes blazing, blood boiling, arms raised high, wings beating to rise, wings beating to rise, heroes surging like shooting stars, shaking heaven and earth, ghosts and gods alarmed, how mighty I am, one against ten, why fear, six to zero…
The next morning, before dawn broke, a faint ray of morning light filtered through the window lattice, barely dispelling the darkness in the room. Su Yaoyang slowly awoke amid an indescribable warmth, softness, and ultimate intimacy.
He felt as if he were on the softest cloud or immersed in the warmest spring water. The slight headache from last night’s hangover had long been soothed away by the tender warmth beside him.
He slowly opened his eyes, and the first sight was Song Mei’s stunning sleeping face, still radiant in the morning light. She curled up like a docile kitten on his left, her silk robe slightly open at the collar, revealing a dazzling expanse of white.
Through the thin silk, he could clearly feel the astonishing elasticity and softness, and the enticing curves rising and falling with her steady breathing.
On his right side was another enchanting sight. The young and pretty Xiao Lu clung to him tightly like an octopus.
“Young Master Xi, you’re awake?”
As Su Yaoyang stirred, the two women woke up too. Song Mei yawned lazily and asked languidly.
Xiao Lu also woke slowly, complaining as soon as she opened her eyes: “Young master, you slept so soundly last night. Sister Mei and I had a hard time getting you into the room.”
“Really? My fault, I won’t drink to excess again.” Su Yaoyang quickly apologized to his two wives.
“Hmph… Sister Mei said, if you drink too much again, we’ll make you sleep in the study.” Xiao Lu sat up, rummaging for his clothes while puffing her cheeks threateningly.
“Alright, alright… I’ll be careful next time.” Su Yaoyang raised his hand in promise.
Served by Song Mei and Xiao Lu, Su Yaoyang quickly finished washing up and changed into a crisp military uniform; in the mirror, his eyes remained sharp and spirited.
After a simple breakfast, escorted by guard captain Xu Dapeng and dozens of armed guards, Su Yaoyang got in a car and left his residence, heading straight for Jinsha Ridge Airport.
As the morning light just cleared the thin mist over the ridges, Cheng Rufeng, Feng Mingqian, Ye Qiyuan, and the other thirty-seven pilots had already gathered early on the somewhat empty apron at Jinsha Ridge Airport.
Each one spirited and neatly uniformed, showing no signs of fatigue from last night’s revelry.
At that moment, they had only one thought in mind, itching like cat scratches, making them restless—to see firsthand what kind of “warhorses” Commander Su Yaoyang would assign to these “new recruits”!
For a pilot, the fighter plane is his second life, his only reliance in deadly combat with enemies at ten thousand feet.
A high-performance fighter not only gives them an edge in air combat but greatly boosts survival chances. Thus, before official “assignment” of mounts, these sons of the sky were full of guesses and expectations.
They gathered in small groups, stamping feet against the morning chill while whispering heated discussions.
“Hey, what do you think Commander Su will give us for planes?”
A younger second lieutenant pilot with a boyish face rubbed his hands, unable to contain himself. His eyes sparkled with curiosity about advanced fighters.
“No need to ask? Definitely top stuff!” An experienced captain nearby chimed in confidently. “Didn’t you see those planes the Americans fly? So impressive! I hear they’re called… P-47 ‘Thunderbolt’ fighters! Fierce firepower, fast, good armor! If we get those, fighting Japanese planes would be a breeze!”
His words immediately drew agreeing murmurs from around.
The P-47 “Thunderbolt” fighter was like a legendary “divine weapon” to these pilots who had long served in the poorly equipped Chinese Air Force.
Many had only vague knowledge from pictures or American pilots’ boasts.
“P-47? Dream on!”
A steadier major pilot with higher rank shook his head, dousing their enthusiasm. “Top-tier stuff like that is limited in number, probably prioritized for the American instructors to familiarize and train us. We’d be lucky to get some, don’t expect one per person.”
“Right,” Feng Mingqian nodded in agreement. As a former bomber squadron leader, he had a clearer grasp of logistics limits.
“I’d say if Commander Su equips us with P-26 ‘Peashooters’, that’s already great.
It’s old, but at least a real fighter, better than the ‘Hawker’ or I-15 we flew before.”
The P-26 “Peashooter” was a pre-WWII U.S. Army Air Corps monoplane fighter, decent then, but by 1938, outmatched by Japan’s new Type 96 carrier fighters and upcoming Zeros.
Still, for these Chinese pilots short on guns, clothes, and food, having any plane was a luxury.
“P-26? Major Feng, you’re underestimating Commander Su’s ambition!”
Ye Qiyuan retorted dismissively. “P-26 is no better than a fire poker. Up in the air against Japanese Type 96 carrier fighters, it’d be suicide?
I figure since Commander Su went to such lengths to bring us, he won’t fob us off with junk! At least F4F ‘Wildcat’!”
The F4F “Wildcat” was a U.S. Navy carrier fighter widely used early in WWII; though outclassed by the Zero in performance, its rugged build and solid firepower earned it the nickname “aerial iron barrel” in the Pacific.
For Chinese pilots, flying an F4F would be quite good.
Ye Qiyuan’s words sparked fresh debate.
“F4F ‘Wildcat’? That’s solid! Tough, reliable, decent firepower!”
“Yeah, flying a ‘Wildcat’ against the Japanese wouldn’t be a loss!”
“But ‘Wildcat’ numbers are probably limited too? Navy plane, not easy for Commander Su to get.”
For a moment, the apron buzzed with speculation and anticipation. Some optimistically figured Su Yaoyang’s wealth meant the best gear.
Others more realistic, glad for any plane; some compared known U.S. fighter models, guessing the most likely.
When Su Yaoyang’s convoy arrived at Jinsha Ridge Airport, the sun was already high.
Seeing him, Cheng Rufeng stepped forward and saluted crisply: “Report to Commander Su! Aviation team all present: thirty-seven accounted for! Awaiting orders!”
He cleared his throat, a meaningful smile on his face, and walked to the front, eyes scanning each young or seasoned face, drawling: “Gentlemen, rest well last night? You all look so spirited; must be satisfied with our militia’s food and quarters?”
His words instantly lightened the tense atmosphere. Pilots exchanged glances, sheepish smiles on their faces, catching the teasing tone.
As leader, Cheng Rufeng stepped up respectfully: “Report to Commander Su, thanks to you, brothers all rested well! We are deeply grateful for your and the militia’s hospitality!”
“Good.” Su Yaoyang nodded, smile unwavering. “I hear some brothers were so excited they barely slept, up at dawn on this apron, staring eagerly—who knows what treasure they’re waiting for?”
“Hahaha…” Good-natured laughter erupted. Those who’d discussed models earlier blushed and ducked heads.
Amused by their embarrassment, Su Yaoyang was about to tease more when a timid but clear voice from the crowd said:
“Commander Su… we… we just wanted to see early… what planes we’ll get… even if… not too advanced… even Hawker III… or P-26… we can fly them! We’re not afraid!”
The speaker was the youngest, lowest-ranking second lieutenant pilot, voice trembling with great courage.
His plain, almost humble plea hit Su Yaoyang like a heavy hammer.
Hawker III… P-26…
These near-“scrap metal” planes in Su Yaoyang’s eyes were acceptable “mounts” to these patriotic pilots! Their equipment expectations were that low!
Su Yaoyang’s smile froze. A wave of indescribable bitterness and guilt surged.
He recalled their unfair treatment, flying outdated planes against well-equipped Japanese in bloody sky battles, their unyielding patriotism amid desperation…
His joking mood vanished.
He took a deep breath, suppressing emotion, gaze turning solemn and gentle.
Looking at the speaking second lieutenant, he said gravely: “Good lad, spirited! But since I invited you, I won’t send you up in ‘fire pokers’ against the Japanese!”
He waved sharply, commanding loudly: “Load up! I’ll show you the real ‘treasures’!”
At his order, waiting military jeeps drove up and stopped before the pilots.
Though puzzled, his confident tone and firm promise ignited stronger anticipation! They boarded swiftly and orderly.
Led by Su Yaoyang, the convoy bypassed the main apron, heading to the rear. There, terrain more concealed, security far stricter, sentries every few steps scanning alertly.
Finally, they stopped at an independent apron ringed by high earth walls and barbed wire—like a fortified bunker.
Pilots dismounted, eyeing the mysterious site curiously and tensely.
They noted dozens of planes neatly parked, tightly covered in heavy canvas. The bulges suggested far larger and more imposing than any fighters they’d seen!
Su Yaoyang stepped to the front, a mysterious smile on his face: “Brothers, I know what’s on your minds. Now, see the ‘new warhorses’ I prepared for you!”
He waved sharply: “Uncover the canvas!”
Waiting soldiers sprang into action, grabbing canvas edges and yanking them aside!
“Whoosh—rip—”
Heavy canvas scraped the ground, mingling with rope-untying sounds. Sunlight like a golden dragon freed after millennia roared in, flooding the area!
Row upon row! Neatly arrayed, at least two squadrons, nearing three, of brand-new fighters stood like steel behemoths in the morning light, exuding suffocating menace and cold metallic sheen!
In that instant, time froze.
The apron fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.
All pilots, veterans and rookies alike, stood petrified as if struck by thunder! Pupils dilated max, mouths agape, jaws nearly unhinged, voiceless.
What did they see?
That iconic inverted gull-wing like a gull poised to fly! That massively robust fuselage brimming with explosive power!
Below the nose, the enormous Pratt & Whitney R-2800 “Double Wasp” eighteen-cylinder radial engine, pregnant with thunderous might! And four massive, thick propeller blades to rend the heavens!
On the wings, six yawning muzzles of 12.7mm Browning M2 heavy machine guns, like hellish fangs gleaming deadly chill!
Deep blue paint gleamed in the sun, with prominent Blue Sky White Sun emblems on wings and tail, and clear “NAVY” lettering proclaiming their prestigious power!
This model’s none other than the famed F4U Corsair fighter from another timeline.
Facing these early arrivals, all were dumbfounded.
Though Cheng Rufeng and others saw it first time, pilots’ instincts told them its extraordinariness.
Su Yaoyang’s voice rang out: “Brothers, this is the latest fighter, F4U Corsair.
In other words, these new fighters are all yours. Like them?”
“Urgh…”
Someone groaned hoarsely, like a drowning man.
Then, like ice cracking or a volcano erupting!
“My god…” A young pilot clutched his head, shrieking in ecstatic disbelief, legs buckling to kneel, tears flooding like a burst dam!
“New fighters… real new fighters… aaaaaah…”
Fearless Ye Qiyuan lost it completely! Childlike, he roared incoherently, charging the nearest “Corsair.”
Hands shaking, he caressed the cold hard metal skin like a priceless treasure, feeling unmatched power and security.
His eyes bloodshot, huge teardrops rolled uncontrollably, splashing on the wing and absorbed by the chill metal.
“Impossible… this can’t be…”
Steady Major Feng Mingqian muttered like enchanted, body trembling with agitation, steps floating as if on clouds.
He reached for the near steel eagle but yanked back at the last second, fearing to shatter a beautiful dream.
Cheng Rufeng stood rooted.
His gaze locked on the majestic “Corsairs,” chest heaving with hot breaths.
His battle-worn eyes bloodshot, tears welled but held back. He recalled years flying faulty “patchwork” planes against teeth-armed Japanese, comrades’ dying gazes of regret and hope who covered him…
If… if back then they had these fighters…
Bittersweet grief and joy churned like fierce liquor in his chest!
“Com… Commander Su…”
Cheng Rufeng’s voice hoarse beyond words, he turned laboriously to the mildly smiling Su Yaoyang, lips moving wordlessly. A thousand words reduced to one choked, trembling: “You…”
Su Yaoyang watched the pilots undone by shock—some sobbing on knees, howling, crazily caressing planes, dancing incoherently… His smile beamed brighter with satisfaction.
He knew these “Corsairs” were more than cold war machines: longed-for swords, hopes for vengeance, wings to defend national honor!
“Brothers!”
Su Yaoyang’s voice cut in timely, not loud but clear to all, steadying hearts: “These are your ‘new partners’! Yours from today! Familiarize fast, master them, turn them into ‘Corsairs’ soaring over North China, give the Japanese a taste of getting ‘shaved’!”
“Awooo…”
His words unleashed even fiercer, wilder cheers and wolf howls on the apron!
