Chapter 263: Counterattack
Baiyang Airport, over two hundred kilometers away from Yichang
A sense of despair, like a plague, spread through the base of the Japanese Army’s 90th Flying Squadron.
In the airport, the tense atmosphere was so oppressive that it was almost suffocating.
The pilots no longer gathered as usual to boast about their achievements or play cards to pass the time; they sat in groups of two or three in the stuffy flight tents, silent, staring blankly at the ground.
The air was filled with the sour, rotten smell of machine oil, sweat, and failure mixed together.
Occasionally, the oppressive silence was broken by sudden outbursts of arguments, and even pilots would wrestle like wild beasts over a single remark until they were exhaustedly pulled apart by others.
The shadow of failure loomed over everyone’s heart.
Finally, this oppressive mood erupted.
Several of the most senior pilots and officers, with the longest flight hours, could no longer endure the torment; they rushed with ashen faces to the command tent of the squadron leader, Colonel Yamamoto Kenji.
“Colonel!”
The leading lieutenant didn’t even follow protocol to report first; his voice was hoarse and angry, “We demand an explanation! Why! Why did the battle turn out like this?”
Another young pilot, eyes red, asked in a trembling voice: “In less than a week, our squadron has lost nearly half of its planes and pilots.
Half… our comrades, like summer moths, plunged to their deaths under the Chinese guns! Are their lives worth so little?”
Faced with his subordinates’ near-roaring questions, Yamamoto Kenji was speechless.
His tall frame now appeared somewhat hunched, and the muscles on his face twitched slightly.
How could he not want to know the answer?
These days, he had been pondering this question every day, replaying those brutal air combat scenes in his mind over and over.
But the conclusion he reached sent a chill and shudder from the depths of his soul.
The Zero fighter, the pride of the Imperial Japanese Army Air Service, this newly developed fighter that he once thought could dominate Asia… was already obsolete.
No, not just obsolete.
The enemy, that unit called “Pirate,” seemed to know everything about the Zero.
They never engaged the Zero in dogfights, but instead used a type of fighter he had never seen before, with terrifying speed, diving down from higher and farther skies like eagles and falcons.
One strike, just one strike.
Their cannon fire was astonishingly powerful; the fragile Zero would disintegrate and explode in the air like a paper lantern after just a few hits.
And when his pilots tried to counterattack, the enemy’s planes always managed to climb back into the sky with terrifying power, vanishing without a trace, leaving the Zeros circling futilely below.
Not only that, they had even developed a scissor tactic, where two planes chased each other like swallows biting tails; if a Japanese plane tried to attack one, the other would mercilessly strike it, leaving the Japanese plane unable to cope and eventually shot down.
This wasn’t combat; it was a one-sided massacre.
The enemy seemed to have specially trained a set of tactics targeting the Zero, a deadly method that completely nullified the Zero’s advantages while infinitely amplifying its weaknesses.
At this thought, Yamamoto Kenji’s heart began to tremble uncontrollably. He felt a cold sweat sliding down his back. A terrifying idea formed in his mind.
These Chinese knew the Zero’s performance almost like the back of their hand… no… the enemy knew the Zero’s strengths and weaknesses better than they did, and had even developed tactics against them.
A crazy thought flashed through Yamamoto Kenji’s mind: he had to report to headquarters immediately! Request them to stop Zero production at once!
No, not just stop production; they needed to scrap it and start over, design a new fighter that could match—no, surpass—”Pirate,” or the Empire’s skies would be completely lost!
Unfortunately, this thought was just a fleeting one.
He knew very well that sending such a near-treasonous telegram would bring not reward, but trial by military court.
He would be seen as a coward broken by the enemy, a madman shaking military morale.
He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the churning fear and anxiety in his heart.
Looking at the pilots before him, who were nearly out of control emotionally, he didn’t lose his temper, but instead soothed them in a weary but relatively gentle tone.
“Gentlemen, I understand your feelings.
The Empire’s warriors should not suffer such meaningless sacrifices.”
He tried to make his voice sound even gentler, “I have already reported our predicament in detail to the Air Service Corps headquarters, along with the enemy’s new fighters and tactics.
Please believe me, the Empire’s high command will not ignore our sacrifices; reinforcements and new tactical guidance will arrive soon!”
He painted a big pie even he didn’t believe in, using empty promises to numb these young men on the brink of collapse.
He knew very well that if the pilots caused a mutiny or scandal at this point, his days as squadron leader were numbered.
Just as Yamamoto Kenji had finally soothed the pilots with lies and authority, sending them away, a heart-wrenching, shrill alarm pierced the sky over the airport without warning!
“Woo…”
Everyone instinctively looked up and saw a large formation of dark aircraft appearing on the western horizon at some point.
They were not the familiar Zeros, nor any Imperial aircraft they had seen!
“Pirate”
“It’s Pirate”
And… those with bombs hanging underneath were bombers!
Before they could recover from the shock, the lead dive bomber emitted a death-god-like scream as it nose-dived toward the ground with destructive intent!
Immediately after, the entire Baiyang Airport turned into a sea of fire and hell.
“Boom… boom…”
Bombs fell like hail, exploding into massive fireballs on the runways, beside the hangars, in the fuel depots.
Explosions rang out one after another, deafening. Bullets and shrapnel filled the sky, like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, mercilessly harvesting the panicked crowds on the ground.
The pilots, those sky princes who had just been protesting to him, were now as fragile as ants in the storm of steel.
They ran and fell in the bullet rain, their bodies torn to pieces.
Anti-aircraft machine guns and cannons around the airport roared desperately, spewing futile tongues of fire into the sky, trying to weave a net of interception.
But the planes overhead were exceptionally agile, like raptors toying with prey, weaving effortlessly through the dense bullet rain, pulling up, then diving again to drop another round of death.
Those short ten-odd minutes felt like a century to those on the ground.
When the last “Pirate” waggled its wings contentedly and vanished over the horizon, the vast Baiyang Airport was completely paralyzed.
Runways were pockmarked with craters, all hangars were burning, and planes on the ground that hadn’t taken off—whether intact or under repair—were almost entirely destroyed, reduced to heaps of smoking scrap metal.
As for the pilots, more than half were killed or wounded; the survivors were mostly injured, sitting dazed in the ruins, many sobbing openly.
Yamamoto Kenji, crawling out of the rubble, stared blankly at the fighters reduced to scrap; he knew the 90th Flying Squadron… was finished.
When this devastating news reached the ears of the Japanese 11th Army Commander, Lieutenant General Sonobe Waichiro, via radio, the commander, who had been in office less than two months, flew into a rage, sweeping everything off his desk and roaring like a wild beast, nearly going mad on the spot.
Yichang Bell Tower Command.
When the communications soldier handed Cheng Rufeng’s confirmed final battle results telegram to Su Yaoyang, the entire command post was still enveloped in tense silence.
Everyone held their breath, awaiting the final verdict.
Su Yaoyang’s eyes quickly scanned the numbers on the telegram:
“Confirmed destruction and damage of 56 Japanese aircraft of various types, including 22 Zero fighters… airport runways, control tower, fuel depots, ammunition depots… all completely destroyed… preliminary estimate: Japanese 90th Flying Squadron has lost all combat capability, with over half personnel casualties…”
After reading the telegram, Su Yaoyang’s mouth curved upward uncontrollably; finally, he couldn’t hold back and let out a hearty laugh.
“Hahaha! Good! Well done!”
His laughter was like an exploding bomb, instantly igniting the atmosphere in the entire command post.
“We won! We won! 」
“We’ve finally crippled those damn Japanese army air units!”
“Long live!”
The staff officers, suppressed for so long, erupted in thunderous cheers; some young staff even excitedly tossed their caps into the air.
The head of the operations section pushed up his glasses, his eyes gleaming with excitement behind the lenses, but he maintained the calm of a professional soldier, walked to the large sand table, and said to everyone: “Gentlemen, quiet down! The significance of this victory is far greater than we imagined!”
He picked up a wooden pointer and pointed at Yichang.
“The destruction of the 90th Flying Squadron means that, at least for the next one or two months, Sonobe Waichiro’s 11th Army has completely lost its ability to threaten us from the skies. They’ve become blind and lame!”
One staff officer said worriedly: “They can transfer planes from other places!”
The section head smiled, a hint of disdain in his smile.
“I’ve told you to read more books, but you never listen.
Do you think Japan’s Army Air Service is run by Sonobe Waichiro’s family?
Every unit has its fixed missions and defense zones, one radish one pit.
Pull planes from Wuhan commander to Yichang? Or have Shinozuka Yoshio in North China give him some? Won’t others need to fight? As for transferring from the home islands…”
The operations section head drew out his tone, lightly tapping the map with the pointer.
“Building planes takes time, training new pilots takes time, ferrying from the home islands takes even more time! Round trip, without one or two months, Sonobe Waichiro won’t see a single hair! So…”
He looked at Su Yaoyang, his eyes full of admiration and excitement.
“In other words, starting now, the skies over Yichang are completely ours!”
Su Yaoyang nodded in satisfaction, stood up from his chair, walked to the sand table, picked up the blue flag representing their own forces, and firmly planted it in the core of the Japanese defensive line.
“Section Head Lan is right.
Sonobe Waichiro is now a tiger with its teeth and claws pulled.”
He scanned the crowd, his voice not loud but full of determination, “Now, it’s our turn to take the stage.”
“Orders!”
Cold killing intent flashed in Su Yaoyang’s eyes, “Huang Guantao’s 2nd Regiment, and all artillery units, prepare for the general offensive! I want the opposite 13th and 47th Regiments wiped off the map within three days!”
“Yes!”
The command post once again resounded with unified roars.
