Chapter 314: Trajectory Of Death
In the next few hours, the sharp alarm sounds became an inescapable nightmare over Jiuqu River Airport.
The mountainous area to the southwest became a massive labyrinth.
The Japanese North China Area Army’s 3rd Flying Group, personally led by its 3rd Flying Wing Commander Colonel Harada Yuki, was like a pack of cunning wolves constantly teasing the nerves of the Shanxi militia tiger.
Colonel Harada was an extremely experienced veteran pilot. He knew full well that in front of the P-47 “Thunderbolt” high-performance heavy fighter, his eight Zeros and twelve Type 1 “Hayabusa” fighters had no advantage in a head-on high-altitude dogfight.
Therefore, he devised a tactic that could be called rogue: the “cat-teasing” strategy.
His aircraft group always flew in an ultra-low altitude posture, hugging the undulating ridgeline.
They would suddenly climb at times, briefly flashing on the radar screens to lure the P-47 groups into emergency takeoffs.
At other times, he would dispatch one or two aircraft to harass like flies around the edges of Wuta County, firing a few shots before fleeing.
“Alert! Unidentified signals detected to the southwest!”
“Take off… First Squadron, emergency takeoff to intercept!”
Li Xuming and his comrades were exhausted from running around in response to one command after another like this.
They roared into the sky in their fighters, full of rage charging toward the target airspace, but every time it was like punching with all their might into cotton.
By the time they arrived, the Japanese aircraft had long vanished without a trace, hiding again in the mountain folds that radar couldn’t penetrate.
They could only circle futilely in the air, consuming precious fuel and pilots’ energy, finally returning helplessly before the fuel warning lights came on.
Just as they jumped off the planes, gulped down some water, and hadn’t even warmed their seats, the piercing alarm would ring again.
“Damn it… here they come again!” A pilot slammed his enamel cup on the table, eyes bloodshot as he grabbed his helmet and rushed to the tarmac again.
The entire morning, the flying wing was like monkeys being toyed with, led by the nose by the Japanese in endless circles.
Although they took off frequently with great momentum, they hadn’t even gotten a single hair from the enemy aircraft. This frustrating feeling of having strength but nowhere to use it was more exhausting than real aerial combat.
In the command tower, Doolittle frowned tightly.
He stared intently at the huge sand table and maps, marked with the locations where Japanese aircraft had appeared and disappeared each time.
He knew clearly that the enemy’s goal was not a decisive battle, but attrition.
They were consuming the “Thunderbolt Wing’s” fuel, ammunition, aircraft lifespan, and most critically—the pilots’ energy and morale.
By the afternoon, the situation had worsened.
After a morning of high-intensity repeated scrambles, many pilots were showing obvious fatigue.
After several emergency takeoffs, there were even cases where pilots, due to mental exhaustion, made operational errors, nearly causing accidents during takeoff.
Faced with this situation, Doolittle had no choice but to issue orders to reduce scramble frequency, changing from full squadron emergency takeoffs to rotations of two- or four-aircraft formations for airborne alert.
This was tantamount to admitting the enemy’s harassment tactics had worked, but to preserve strength for the possible real battle ahead, he had no choice.
Thus, the takeoff frequency at Jiuqu River Airport dropped sharply.
Alarms still sounded, but fewer and fewer fighters took off. The entire “Pirate Wing” was shrouded in an atmosphere of stifling frustration and anxiety.
When Su Yaoyang strode into the tower command post, a heavy air mixed with fatigue, anxiety, and cigarette smoke hit him in the face.
In the command post, Cheng Rufeng, who was usually calm and composed, had bloodshot eyes and was staring intently at the huge sand table. It was marked with arrows of different colors showing the Japanese aircraft’s harassment routes zigzagging all day—those chaotic tracks mockingly taunting everyone in the tower.
And Doolittle, wearing the same German-made uniform but with a Western face, stood beside him, expression serious.
Seeing Su Yaoyang enter, Doolittle stood at attention and saluted, reporting in a deep voice in slightly stiff Chinese.
“Boss, the Japanese tactics are shameless, but we must admit they succeeded.”
Doolittle wasted no words and got straight to the point. He pointed at the sand table, detailing everything from a few days ago up to now.
From how the Japanese used radar blind spots for ultra-low altitude infiltration, to how they used “hit-and-run” harassment tactics to repeatedly mobilize the “Thunderbolt Wing” and “Pirate Wing,” wearing out the pilots with endless chases yet never even catching a glimpse of the enemy.
“So far, over twenty pilots have shown severe physical and mental fatigue symptoms, and three aircraft have suffered non-combat damage during takeoff and landing.
To preserve strength, Captain Cheng and I were forced to order a reduction in scramble frequency.
Based on estimates, our ‘Thunderbolt Wing’s’ effective scramble rate has dropped by at least fifty percent compared to normal times.”
Doolittle’s voice was full of frustration. “Worse still, since we can’t ensure air superiority, the frontline ground troops preparing for a general offensive have started complaining.
They’re accusing our air force of taking the most resources yet shrinking like turtles at the critical moment.”
At this point, Cheng Rufeng beside him said to Su Yaoyang:
“Commander-in-Chief, we can’t blame Colonel Doolittle alone. Our Pirate Flying Wing is no better off.
We failed to anticipate the Japanese commander’s cunning and highly targeted tactics, and failed to come up with effective countermeasures in time.
I bear responsibility for this passivity, and I request punishment.”
Facing Cheng Rufeng’s posture of taking the blame, Su Yaoyang just listened calmly, his deep gaze sweeping over the glaring red harassment routes on the map, his face showing no emotion.
He didn’t immediately respond to Doolittle and Cheng Rufeng’s self-criticisms, but lightly waved his hand, signaling them not to do so.
“This is not the time to assign blame, General Doolittle.”
Su Yaoyang’s voice was steady, yet carried an undeniable force. “I just want to know, since the Japanese have made their move, have you and Cheng Rufeng come up with any countermeasures?”
His gaze shifted from Doolittle to Cheng Rufeng, who had been silently standing by with an ashen face.
Called out by name, Cheng Rufeng took a deep breath, stepped forward, his bloodshot eyes flashing with reluctance.
“Commander-in-Chief, we haven’t come up with a specific good plan yet. The little devils are too cunning.” He spoke with difficulty, voice hoarse. “We’ve only temporarily thought of two countermeasures.”
“First: Strengthen air patrol forces. Increase daily patrol aircraft from six to eighteen. Divide into three groups of six aircraft each, rotating takeoffs for continuous combat patrols in key airspace. This way, even if we encounter the main Japanese force, we’ll have enough strength to respond without being powerless.”
“Second: Deploy all available reconnaissance aircraft, especially the light liaison aircraft that can fly low, along possible Japanese infiltration routes for dragnet searches of the mountains to find the devils’ field airstrips.
Since the little devils want low-altitude infiltration, their airstrips must be nearby. Once discovered, immediately send B-25 bombers for saturation destruction. Without airstrips, the devils’ aircraft become birds without feet, unable to threaten us anymore.”
After Cheng Rufeng finished, the atmosphere in the command post eased slightly—these were two seemingly feasible countermeasures, after all.
Hearing Cheng Rufeng’s words, Su Yaoyang first nodded thoughtfully, as if affirming their proactive thinking. But then he slowly shook his head.
“Your method isn’t completely useless.” Su Yaoyang’s tone was objective, not directly negating it. “But it won’t have much effect.”
As soon as Su Yaoyang spoke, the faint hope that had just ignited in the command post was doused with cold water.
Cheng Rufeng’s face clearly showed confusion and urgency, while Doolittle also frowned, waiting for Su Yaoyang’s further explanation.
Seeing their expressions, Su Yaoyang didn’t keep them in suspense. He extended his finger and lightly traced over the area on the map representing Shanxi’s complex mountains.
“You all know that building a simple field airstrip doesn’t require much technical expertise.
Just a few hundred engineers or laborers can level out a flat area large enough for light fighters to take off and land in a week in the mountains.”
His finger tapped the map. “I dare say the Japanese have definitely prepared a considerable number of backup field airstrips in the surrounding mountains in advance for this operation.
Even if we’re lucky and find and destroy two or three, so what? Those airstrips have only minimal fuel and ammo—nothing valuable. The Japanese won’t feel a thing even if they’re bombed.”
“But in return, for us to find these deliberately camouflaged field airstrips in the vast mountains would require massive manpower and resources, sending countless recon aircraft and ground teams on a needle-in-a-haystack search. It’s completely not worth the cost.”
Then he looked at Cheng Rufeng again. “As for your first point, sending eighteen aircraft daily for continuous patrols—that’s too consumptive.
Our fighters are treasures, and pilots are treasures among treasures.
Playing this attrition war with the Japanese is too wasteful. Our foundation is thin; we’re small-scale operators and can’t afford this kind of torment.”
His words left Cheng Rufeng speechless. Both schemes he proposed were fundamentally negated by Su Yaoyang. His clenched fist relaxed, shoulders slumping: “Then… Commander-in-Chief, what do you say we should do?”
All eyes in the command post instantly focused on Su Yaoyang.
“I have a way.”
The corners of Su Yaoyang’s mouth curved up slightly, revealing a confident smile.
“We’ve just ‘imported’ a new piece of equipment: vehicle-mounted mobile radar.” He deliberately emphasized “imported,” and all the key personnel present understood tacitly.
“This radar can be installed on trucks for free maneuver along road networks.
Though limited by size and power, its effective detection range is only about forty kilometers, not as good as the large radars at base.
But its advantage is flexibility, and we have plenty. We can immediately deploy dozens of these radar trucks, secretly positioning them at key traffic routes, mountain pass bottlenecks, and near frontline troop positions to form a mobile, invisible detection net.”
Su Yaoyang drew a huge encirclement on the map with his hand.
“We stop active sorties, stop being led by the nose by the devils.
We use this method to lie in wait! Have the radar trucks lurk; once they detect Japanese aircraft flying nearby, immediately report their precise position, altitude, and heading to command via radio.
Then, the airport centrally dispatches, ordering the ‘Thunderbolt’ groups on standby to scramble at top speed straight to the target! Give these smug devils a taste of being caught in a trap!”
“Good… this method is good!”
As soon as Su Yaoyang finished speaking, the command post erupted!
Cheng Rufeng and Doolittle exchanged a glance, excitement shining in their eyes.
Pi Ruoyu also showed a knowing smile. Everyone present wasn’t stupid; they all knew what mobile anti-air radar trucks meant for cracking the Japanese low-altitude infiltration tactics!
It meant the roles of hunter and prey were about to completely reverse!
In the next three days, Jiuqu River Airport and Jinshaling Airport unusually fell silent.
No matter how the Japanese aircraft provoked, the “Thunderbolt” groups no longer charged out aggressively like before.
Instead, sporadic two-aircraft formations took off, circling perfunctorily over the airport before returning early.
Meanwhile, dozens of vehicle-mounted radars disguised as ordinary transport trucks quietly drove out of the base under cover of night.
Like ghosts, they dispersed to various valleys, passes, and roads around Wuta County, then shut down engines, raised antennas, blended into the surroundings, and quietly waited for prey to appear.
Three days later, Colonel Harada Yuki, convinced he had fully figured out the militia air force’s situation, decided to turn up the heat.
That day, he personally led over ten fighters, splitting into two groups approaching Jiuqu River Airport and Jinshaling Airport simultaneously from southwest and southeast of Wuta County.
Their groups first swaggered in high altitude for four or five minutes, long enough for the militia’s fixed radar stations to pick up signals.
Then, as alarms blared at the militia airports, they nosed down sharply, drilling into the continuous mountains like nimble loaches, vanishing from radar screens.
They had mastered this game of hide-and-seek to perfection.
In Harada’s view, the silence of these few days was the best proof that the Chinese air force had been thrown into chaos and exhausted by them.
Harada smugly calculated: after a few more rounds like this, once those Chinese pilots were numbed and slackened, it would be time for his fatal strike.
Then, he would lead the 3rd Flying Group’s main force in a thunderous surprise attack on Jinshaling and Jiuqu River airports.
As long as he could destroy the Shanxi militia’s air power in one fell swoop, the Chinese ground troops below Taiyuan would be fully exposed under the Imperial Army Air Force’s iron wings.
He could lead his boys in unrestrained bombing and strafing, sending those stubborn Chinese soldiers to hell. The siege of Taiyuan would lift without a fight, and he, Harada Yuki, would become the Empire’s rising new hero for this battle merit, immortalized in history!
Thinking of this, Harada Yuki felt a surge of delight, even humming a tune from his hometown.
He skillfully flew his Zero fighter at extremely low altitude hugging the rugged mountains. Rocks and trees outside the cockpit sped by backward; this nap-of-the-earth flying thrill excited him immensely.
Just as he was fully immersed enjoying this cat-and-mouse game, without warning, a huge black shadow flashed from the mountain pass ahead!
The speed was astonishing, like a black lightning bolt!
Harada Yuki’s pupils contracted instantly, heart pounding! Before he could make out what it was, a blinding orange-yellow fireball streaked right above his cockpit!
That was the death trajectory of tracer rounds tearing through the sky!
