Chapter 287: Conspiracy And Countermeasures
On July 3, 1940, at dawn, outside Taiyuan city, Shanxi.
A great battle that shocked North China erupted with the first hints of dawn.
The force launching this first wave of attack was not any ground unit, but the vast airborne fleet of the Shanxi People’s Militia.
High in the sky, a massive fleet of over fifty aircraft, including B-25 Mitchell bombers and SBD-2 Dauntless dive bombers, like steel vultures blotting out the sky, unleashed a carpet-bombing assault on the painstakingly established Japanese perimeter defenses with ear-splitting engine roars.
In an instant, the entire area outside Taiyuan city was engulfed in flames, and the deafening explosions continued incessantly, as if the very earth were groaning.
The ground was as if scoured by countless streams of sulfuric acid; what were once orderly defensive positions, sturdy reinforced concrete bunkers, various hidden pillboxes, tight shelters, and deep trenches were all mercilessly crushed by the relentless hail of bullets, completely submerged in the billowing smoke and dust.
The air was thick with a pungent odor, a mixture of scorched earth, gunpowder, and burnt flesh.
Particularly noteworthy here is the B-25 Mitchell bomber, which shone brightly during this bombing raid.
As a medium bomber highly acclaimed in another time and space, it demonstrated astonishing versatility.
It could not only carry various types of ordnance for ground support missions and perform low-altitude attacks but also conduct precision level bombing and, when necessary, execute complex missions such as anti-ship attacks.
Moreover, its bomb load capacity was quite substantial, with a maximum of 2.27 tons, enough to load all known types of bombs, large or small, into its massive bomb bay and then unleash them without reservation, turning everything on the ground into nothingness.
The sky above Taiyuan city thundered deafeningly. A bombing formation of six B-25 bombers, after completing a round of precise bombing, was methodically circling in mid-air, awaiting the next attack order.
Pan Zhengyu, the commander responsible for this bomber squadron, looked through the cockpit glass at the plumes of smoke and flames rising from the ground, rapidly calculating the optimal positions and routes for the next wave of attack.
Just then, a series of urgent alarm bells suddenly sounded in the cockpit, accompanied by the tense cries of the pilots.
“All units, attention… Northwest direction, altitude three thousand six hundred meters, distance two thousand… Japanese aircraft detected!”
The voice trembled noticeably, clearly startled by the sudden appearance of these uninvited guests.
Immediately after, a steady and powerful voice clearly transmitted over the public channel; it was Doolittle, the overall commander of the bomber fleet.
“This is Aerial Commander Doolittle! All bombers halt bombing, immediately converge on me, immediately re-form, immediately re-form!”
Doolittle’s orders were concise and decisive. Almost reflexively, all bomber pilots pulled back on their control sticks, their massive aircraft tracing arcs in the sky as they rapidly converged on Doolittle’s flagship. The enormous bomber formation began to rearrange itself in the air, forming a tight defensive perimeter.
Beneath the wings, the bombs, originally meant for ground attack, seemed to sense the advent of aerial combat, vibrating slightly within their bays.
Simultaneously, another familiar and confident voice resounded in the ears of all pilots through the public channel: it was Cheng Rufeng, the squadron leader of the Sea Dogs Squadron of the Shanxi People’s Militia.
“All escort aircraft, attention! Immediately engage and drive off the Japanese planes! Do not let them get within one step of the bomber formation!”
While these events might seem lengthy, in reality, the entire process from detecting the enemy aircraft to issuing orders and the fleet commencing action took place in a mere twenty-odd seconds. The aerial battlefield changed in an instant, allowing no room for hesitation.
Soon, a formation of over thirty Japanese aircraft, composed of Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighters and Nakajima Ki-43 Hayabusa fighters, appeared in the sky over Taiyuan like a dark cloud.
Their wings glinted with a cold light under the sun, their propellers spinning at high speed, emitting a sharp whistle as they hurtled directly towards the Shanxi People’s Militia bomber fleet.
The commander of this Japanese formation was none other than Colonel Giei Tetsuhiro, commander of the 60th Air Group stationed in Shanxi.
This Japanese senior air commander in Shanxi, who had repeatedly failed but persisted, immediately issued an attack order via radio. The Japanese formation accelerated instantly, like predatory falcons, and swooped down upon the Shanxi People’s Militia bomber fleet.
In the sky, a brutal aerial dogfight was about to commence.
Above Taiyuan, danger lurked everywhere.
Colonel Giei Tetsuhiro, piloting a Zero fighter and flying like an arrow at the very front of the formation, stared intently through his cockpit glass at the dark cloud of silver metal below… the dense, orderly bomber formation.
Sunlight reflected off the smooth fuselage of the B-25 bombers, flashing with a dazzling light. Their massive bodies and neat formation silently proclaimed an absolute sense of power.
Upon seeing this, Giei Tetsuhiro’s heart tightened, and a familiar chill crept up his spine.
Over the past year, he had engaged this flying group, known as the “Shanxi People’s Militia,” numerous times.
Although the Empire’s propaganda machine always extolled the victories of Bushido spirit, he himself knew how dismal the actual record was.
Precisely because of this, his understanding of this mysterious and powerful adversary had become increasingly deep and… fearful.
The aircraft equipped by the Shanxi People’s Militia, whether in terms of firepower, power, or armor thickness, were more than capable of crushing the Empire’s latest and most prized Zero fighters.
He had personally witnessed countless times his comrades’ Zeroes being instantly torn apart like paper under the barrage of eight 12.7mm heavy machine guns from the P-47s.
He had also been easily outmaneuvered by F4U Corsairs using “Immelmann turns,” only to be attacked from above, chased away in disarray by their absolute speed advantage.
From June of last year until now, on the Shanxi battlefield alone, the Imperial Air Force had lost no fewer than a hundred aircraft.
This number was already painful for Japan, and the loss of over a hundred aircraft accounted for thirty percent of the total Japanese aircraft losses on the China front.
As Japan had not yet fully transitioned to a wartime economy, its total national aircraft production last year was a meager 4,768 units.
To the bureaucrats in the Tokyo headquarters, these mere hundred-odd aircraft losses might seem like an insignificant number on a report, but only those on the front lines knew that this had severely weakened the Japanese army’s local air superiority in North China and profoundly affected the Empire’s position on the entire China front, and even its future troop reserves.
It must be known that the Imperial Army and Navy Air Forces had always adhered to the most stringent elite troop policy.
Training a qualified naval aviator took a full three years, selected from teenage aviators aged fourteen to sixteen or from military academy graduates, with a terrifying elimination rate of seventy percent.
While the Army Air Corps training cycle was slightly shorter, requiring eighteen months to two years, it also extremely emphasized flight hours and brutal combat skills training.
Under such rigorous selection and lengthy training, Japan could only produce one to two hundred qualified pilots annually.
Each and every one of them was the Empire’s most precious asset.
And now, in Shanxi province alone, under the hands of this “Shanxi People’s Militia,” seventy to eighty such invaluable elite pilots had been lost.
This was undoubtedly a heavy blow to Japan.
This was no longer a mere tactical defeat, but a continuous bleeding of the Empire’s war potential at a strategic level.
In the fleeting moment that Giei Tetsuhiro was lost in thought, his peripheral vision caught dozens of dark dots diving from higher altitudes—they were P-47s and F4Us! They had arrived!
Harsh reality yanked him back from his reverie. He took a deep breath, gripped the control stick, and his gaze became calm once more.
He understood that no matter the cost, he had to carve a bloody path for the Imperial Army below.
Through the radio, Giei Tetsuhiro’s cold and resolute voice reached the ears of every Japanese pilot:
“Warriors of the Empire, prepare for battle!
Remember what I said earlier: disperse them first, then annihilate. First squadron, lead the charge!”
As soon as his words fell, a formation of eight Ki-43 Hayabusa fighters, emblazoned with the Rising Sun insignia, like blades detached from a main body, abruptly nosed down and plunged first into the silver ocean of bombers below.
The mission of this squadron of Ki-43s was clear and brutal… they were decoys, rabbits to attract the attention of hounds, meant to use their own flesh and blood to lure the powerful escort aircraft into attacking them, creating a precious window for the main formation to attack the bombers.
However, it was clear that the aerial commander of the Shanxi People’s Militia was also a seasoned veteran.
From the cockpit of his P-47, Cheng Rufeng watched the eight Ki-43s, clearly sent to their deaths, with a cold sneer playing on his lips.
He had seen such petty tricks countless times when he was with the Central Air Force.
He did not fall for the bait and calmly issued dispersal orders via radio.
Immediately, twelve F4U Corsair fighters, like sharks smelling blood, broke away from the escort formation, tracing twelve arcs in an elegant and deadly manner as they headed towards the eight Ki-43s.
The remaining large main cluster, composed of P-47 Thunderbolts and more Corsairs, did not even glance at the decoys on the other side. They maintained high speed and formation, heading directly towards the main Japanese formation led by Giei Tetsuhiro!
Seeing that the enemy had not taken the bait and had responded so calmly and precisely, Giei Tetsuhiro sighed softly, his last shred of hope vanishing.
He knew that the commander of the opposing air force today must be an experienced officer.
He hesitated no longer and could only roar into the microphone with all his might:
“Warriors, follow me, fight and move towards the bomber formation as we go!”
Giei Tetsuhiro’s idea was simple, even somewhat shameless—you’re trying to stop me from getting close to the bombers?
Fine, then I’ll drag the entire battlefield to those massive, fragile bombers! I’ll see if you still dare to fire indiscriminately under the eyes of your own men!
His idea was correct, and extremely effective.
As the two fighter formations, like two surging torrents of steel, violently collided above and to the sides of the B-25 bomber group, the entire sky instantly became a chaotic abattoir.
Tracer rounds crisscrossed the sky like fiery red chains, the roar of engines, the chatter of cannons, and the sharp sound of tearing metal intermingled.
At this moment, the machine gunners on the B-25 bombers found themselves hesitant to fire.
Gripping their machine gun handles, fine beads of sweat on their brows, they watched a Zero fighter whiz past their firing arcs but dared not open fire lightly.
They were afraid that a burst of fire might miss the Japanese plane and accidentally hit their own comrades, as a P-47 with a shark mouth was tightly on the Zero’s tail.
Conversely, the pilots of the Corsairs and Thunderbolts also became cautious.
They flew their superior aircraft, holding the upper hand in dogfights, but every time they locked a Japanese plane in their sights and were about to squeeze the trigger, the massive silver shape of a friendly bomber would flash in their vision.
If they were to slip for a moment and accidentally hit one of those “precious darlings” loaded with bombs, the sin would be immense!
For a time, the entire battlefield fell into an eerie stalemate.
Giei Tetsuhiro, with a nearly suicidal tactic, had succeeded in restraining the claws of the Shanxi People’s Militia Air Force.
Faced with Giei Tetsuhiro’s “rascally” tactics, Doolittle, the overall commander of the bomber fleet, pondered for a moment before the legendary pilot quickly adjusted his strategy.
“All bombers, execute ‘Dispersal Formation’! Repeat, all bombers, execute ‘Dis-per-sal For-ma-tion’!”
Doolittle’s clear voice reached the cockpit of every B-25 and SBD-2 via radio.
The moment the order was given, the massive bomber formation, which had been as dense as a dark cloud, seemed to be stirred by an invisible hand and began to disperse in an orderly and rapid fashion.
One bomber after another, like pieces on a chessboard, precisely increased their distance from each other. The previously tight formation instantly became sparse.
The interval between wings rapidly expanded from tens of meters to hundreds of meters, or even further.
In this way, Giei Tetsuhiro’s plan to tie the entire battlefield around the bomber group and make the Militia Air Force hesitant to fire instantly fell through!
The Japanese pilots were stunned to discover that the “hostages” they had been using had suddenly scattered, depriving them of their cover. The previously chaotic battlefield instantly became clear.
With the shackles of the “human shield” removed, Cheng Rufeng and his ace pilots unleashed astonishing combat power, like tigers breaking free from their chains.
“Brothers, hit these sons of bitches hard! Shoot them all down!” Cheng Rufeng’s roar echoed over the public channel.
The restraint was lifted, and both sides returned to the most primitive and brutal traditional aerial combat mode—a direct head-to-head confrontation of performance, firepower, and skill.
In an instant, the intensity of the battle above Taiyuan dramatically escalated!
Fiery barrages of cannon and heavy machine gun fire swept across the sky like the scythes of death. Tracer rounds drew long, bright red trails in the sky, tearing the azure heavens to shreds.
Almost every moment, one or several aircraft, trailing thick black smoke from their bodies, like birds with broken wings, spiraled down from high altitudes, leaving long, desperate contrails.
Aircraft disintegrated in the air, debris raining down like a storm, and the pilots’ screams were drowned out by the roar of engines and the thunder of explosions.
In this pure contest of performance and firepower, the Japanese, equipped with Zeroes and Hayabusas, were clearly at a severe disadvantage.
Their aircraft had thin armor and weak firepower. Facing the “flying shotgun” of eight heavy machine guns from the P-47 and the formidable power and sturdy fuselage of the F4U, they were almost shattered upon contact.
Japanese losses began to increase at a visible rate. One Rising Sun fighter after another turned into brilliant but fleeting fireworks in the sky, then disappeared from the heavens forever.
