Battle of the Third Reich

Looking up at a height of three thousand meters, the atmosphere looks like a flawless blue crystal. Looking towards the horizon, the sky's color changes constantly with the height. The closer to the horizon, the lighter the color, the blue becomes green, and then it becomes a dazzling white.

"There are some broken clouds at a height of 500 meters, but they are not dense. The machine gunner pays attention to the observation. We are leaving the land." The voice of the leader, Corporal Goss, was slow.

RAF Pvt. Jebson quickly retracted his head from the opening of the machine gun tower and fastened the strap of the canvas oxygen mask.

"The machine gun is ready, request permission to test fire." Through the microphone in the mask, Jebson sent a request to the captain.

"Waiting for orders." Captain Sergeant Gunter tilted his head and looked at the captain in front of the formation, saw the back of the captain's machine gun tower turning to the side, and then saw the muzzle sparks and the tracer traces across the formation . Then the machine gun tower of the wingman on the side also began a test firing.

"Okay, test shot." Sergeant Gunter gave the order.

Jebson sat on the pneumatic linkage seat, holding the joystick of the electric turret with both hands. After the turret turned to the side in the zizi motor sound, Jebson looked at the empty sky in the front sight and pressed the firing button. A 7.7 mm Bedford machine gun blasted a long flame. One five-shot burst, two three-shot short shots, the tracer flew straight away, and finally fell slowly in a parabola.

"After shooting, everything is normal." Jebson reported loudly. He reached out and shook the hose connection of the shell collection bag, and then pulled the joystick to turn the machine gun tower back to the back position.

The Blenheim bomber fleet was flying smoothly over the clouds. The machine gunner pulled the collar of the white turtleneck sweater upwards. The machine gun tower was the coldest post on the Blenheim bomber. In order to get a good line of sight, this The machine gun tower turned out to be semi-open, except for the glass windshields at the top and rear, and the front was completely open. Except for the machine gun, there is a large slap steel plate, which can be said to be unblocked.

The machine gunner's seat has a hydraulic lifting rod, the seat and the gun frame of the machine gun are connected by a linkage structure, and the seat height can be automatically adjusted with the pitch of the machine gun to ensure that the aiming line of the shooter can always be kept level with the machine gun. When the turret is flat, the seat is raised to the highest position. At this time, almost half of the body of the machine gunner is outside the fuselage. As long as the head is easily turned in the turret, you can get the omnidirectional perspective of the upper hemisphere. It can be called the best observation deck of the Royal Air Force.

Gibson looked around in the gun tower. The companions in the formation were staring nervously at the sky. He shrugged his shoulders, lowered his seat, and retracted into the cabin.

"Annalice has a little secret..." Gibson hummed in a minor, leaning against the narrow cabin wall and taking his thermos from the glove box hanging on the wall.

"Give him a kiss..." Gibson unscrewed the inner lid of the thermos and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee.

"Danced together..." Gibson put the thermos in his hands and took a sip with the cup in his hands.

"Jebson must be lazy again." The navigator leaned on the bomb bulkhead. Use a red and blue pencil to mark the time to reach the turning point on the navigation map.

"If it weren't for his lazy temperament, he would have been promoted to a corporal. His marksmanship is good. As long as he starts fighting, he can be trusted. At least I believe him." Gunter stared at the captain. Adjust the throttle gently.

"Gant, this mission will not be as easy as the group of guys said, the Germans will not be silly waiting for us to bomb. I don’t know how many people will be able to go back alive this time. I heard that Redhi last night Did the two Wellington squadrons dispatched by you? Yesterday the airport was full of rows, and it was empty like a ranch this morning. The two squadrons did not return, and the entire airport only had a group of ground crews and Civilian officer." Corporal Goss got up and said, leaning his head out of the cabin and looking at the captain.

"I heard even worse. Not only two squadrons were dispatched last night, but all Wellington in the Eastern and Southern districts were dispatched. There were five Hampton squadrons in the north, which were said to have encountered Germans. The fighter intercepted at night and was hit terribly." Gunter glanced at the pilot and pushed the throttle sticks side by side.

"I don't know what their results are."

"It's very dangling, so today we have to complete the mission. The Germans have gathered a large number of ships. They will land at any time. As long as they destroy their assembly ports and fleets, we can disrupt their plans and delay their landing. Obtaining the time when we established our line of defense, what the UK lacks most now is time."

"It's just our Blenheim and the pile of Hamptons. We don't even have **** fighters."

Goss disagreed with the operation from the beginning. He thought it was all about sending them to commit suicide, but in order not to be sent to military courts, and at the same time he was unwilling to bear the infamy of deserting his companions. The scalp climbed into the plane.

"The spur and hurricane voyages are not enough. The southern frontier airport has been destroyed. The 11th Air Force has been destroyed. The fighter jets from the 12th Air Force Airport have to return after flying to the French coast. This **** is not as good as not. "Gant said, and suddenly covered his headphones nervously.

"Fighter! At nine o'clock! A lot of numbers!" At the same time, Jebson's howl came from the rear cabin.

"Keep formation, keep formation! All planes stay in their positions." The commander in charge shouted on the radio.

"Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, I can't count!" Gibson shouted.

"They rushed over! 109! Six o'clock! On top." Then the cabin was full of gunshots from machine guns.

"Go to hell, bastard! Look here! Germans! Oh shit!" Jebson skillfully pulled the turret's joystick, and two Betford 7.7mm machine gun bullets swept out of the air. Bullet chain shining in white light.

Jebson aimed a crazy burst of long aircraft in the middle of a German four-finger formation approaching from the rear. With his skillful fine-tuning, the arc trajectory of the tracer flew towards the shadow of the enemy aircraft.

At this moment, a harsh banging sound reminded me, and Jebson turned his head in panic, and saw a Blenheim, which followed the formation of the Gunter aircraft 50 meters away, and the engine spewed out. A flame, billowing black smoke instantly covered the body of the bomber. After the tail dragged out a long pillar of smoke.

Jebson could clearly see the flashing light on the poor bomber fuselage and the aluminum flakes and paint coating that were scattered after the fuselage was torn by bullets. The top windshield of the machine gun tower in the back was shattered into pieces. The machine gunner leaned his head against the windshield pillar on one side, his neck was twisted, and he faced up to the sky. The broken windshield beside him was covered with bright red liquid.

Jebson hurriedly looked up, and a bf109 two-plane formation was inserted from the near vertical above the fleet formation like lightning. Before the response of Jebson, the two demon jetting tracer bombs were on the Gunter plane. On the right, less than ten meters from the end of the bomber's wing, pass through the group. Without looking back, he rushed towards the sea.

"Attention! Eleven o'clock, 109!" The pilot screamed from his earphones. There was no machine gun in his first cabin, and he could only stare at the approach of the enemy aircraft.

Jebson fired at the German fighter approaching from the tail, completely helpless to the pilot's instructions. The number of German fighter jets far exceeds the resistance capabilities of the bomber fleet.

"Keep in formation, all planes are in formation!" The air commander in the captain's plane was still shouting.

"This beast who drank blood! Bastard!" the navigator cursed loudly.

A German fighter glanced across the outside of the group in an elegant arc. After two sharp rolls, it tilted its wings and began to climb again. At the same time, the white smoke from a Blenheim engine on the outermost side slowed down. Jebson watched this poor plane struggling to break away from the formation and begin to descend. Four bf109s gathered around like hyenas on the African grasslands who saw injured wildebeests.

"Poor Anderson, they're done!" Jebson turned the turret to a German fighter approaching from the right. The 109 passed the barrage of the bomber on the right without any scrutiny, facing the aircraft straight The rear three-machine formation charge.

"Come on. You little Nazi! Let Uncle Jebson come to love you!" Jebson controlled the twin guns, and the sight in the steel plate sight suppressed the entire body of the fighter. Jebson grinned and pressed the launch button, but one of the machine guns tweeted and stopped abruptly.

"Oh! Shit!" Jebson kicked the leg of the turret hard and continued to shoot with the remaining machine gun.

Messerschmidt walked through the tracer barrage of the machine gun. Like a light Swift swept across the waves. In a blink of an eye, bf109 brushed off Jebson's landline and rushed out of the machine gun's range.

Jebson quickly turned the machine gun tower. But it was too late, and he could only watch the fighter rush into the formation of the three aircraft behind. The muzzle of two 20mm machine guns on the wing of the fighter jet flashed dangerously, and the cannonball shells began to plow from the side of the long aircraft to the cockpit of the wingman. The German fighter plane passed by, the two Blenheim noses sank, and one left and one right fell in two directions.

"Keep in formation! Keep..." The entire fleet has lost more than half, but the commander still stubbornly asked to maintain the formation. The pilots of the formation cursed their commanders while enduring the torture of the German fighters. Then, the **** captain plane was in front of all the formation pilots, and it burst into a fireball as expected.

"Fighter! Directly above!" Gunter looked up through the transparent shutter at the top of the cockpit. He saw that on a blue sky background, a line of black dots lined up neatly against the bomber formation.

"The formation is spreading out! The spreading out! Throw the bomb, let's escape each other." a driver in the headset shouted.

Gunter couldn't hear whose voice it was, but immediately responded. He pushed the throttle fully and pulled the two throttle levers to the end. "Throw away the bomb! Goss! Open the magazine door, we have to descend to the sea, so we can run away.".

"Got it!" Pilot Lin fell on the bomb bay and flipped the magazine open switch. When the green light was on, he pulled the bomb switch without hesitation. A metal friction sound sounded in the magazine and the plane instantly Lifted up a dozen meters.

"Everyone buckled up! We're about to rush!" Gunter swiftly pushed the Blenheim bomber's butterfly steering wheel, and the bomber's nose immediately sagged and began to dive toward the sea at a rapid speed.

"320 miles, 350 miles... It's almost to the limit." The body trembles violently. Gunter gritted his teeth and pressed the steering wheel. He turned his face and looked out of the cabin, not far from a Bren Heim is doing the same thing with him. Obviously, he is also an experienced veteran and made the same choice as Gunter.

"It's Waynes. They can form a team with them when they get to the surface." Goss pulled the safety belt with both hands and looked out the window with his head.

"The Germans followed! Oh my God, it was too fast!" Jebson's roar suddenly sounded, and then the sound of machine gun fire came.

"Break them up, Jebson, we still have two kilometers." Gunter firmly stabilized the fuselage so that the machine gunner could shoot accurately.

"Oh, God!" Goss shouted, and Gunter looked out the window and found that the Blenheim on the left was struggling with an unimaginable intensive rain of bullets. The fist-sized tracer bomb hit like a rainstorm. Massive sparks exploded on the bomber's wings and fuselage.

The bomber was still diving, but apparently had lost control. Gunter saw a series of fire flashes from the other party’s engine wing root to the cockpit position, the whole wing was torn from the fuselage, and the bomber began Rolling like crazy, it began to fall apart under the watch of Sergeant Gunter.

"God bless them." Gunter didn't look back at the plane's final exit. He confirmed that no one would survive.

"God, look! What a fighter plane this is, I have never seen it!" Jebson shot wildly. Trying to drive away the enemy aircraft that was approaching quickly, he then discovered that the two German fighters that were diving with them were not the Messerschmitt he was familiar with. It seemed that the aircraft was larger and the fuselage was thicker. Obviously has a huge flat head.

Gibson fired hard, and then he was surprised to find that the fighters on the opposite side could flexibly change their attitude when diving, and they easily rolled the fuselage to point the head at Blenheim.

The Air Force infantry forcefully pressed the firing button of the machine gun, but the machine gun suddenly stopped roaring. He hurriedly looked down, the remaining ammunition indicator on the magazine showed four zeros, and he had finished all the ammunition. Jebson raised his head. Desperately watched the German fighter turn its body and approached at high speed.

In the evening, under the crimson glow, a large motorboat painted with gray-green paint slowly traveled on the pink dyed sea. A sergeant of the German Army Gendarmerie, wearing a short shawl, stood at the bow of the boat and looked around with a telescope.

"Sergeant, it's getting dark. When will we return?" The helmsman stood by the wheelhouse, holding the steering wheel with the other hand and a lunch box. A soldier with a red cross armband carried a kettle and poured heat into the lunch box. water.

"Go back in another turn. Doctor, have you fed hot water to those prisoners of war?" the sergeant asked aloud with the telescope.

"Everything has been drunk. I think two of them were seriously injured. They also gave them two shots of morphine." The medical soldier turned to look at the stern.

In the cabin, a few men in the British Air Force's blue woolen uniform sat down on the floor with their heads down, their hands cuffed behind them, with two wounded lying in between, curling up and groaning secretly. On the platform at the stern of the boat, dozens of long white cloth bags were stacked, and some were still wet with water dripping down. A pile of parachutes and various life-saving supplies cluttered the corner of the cabin.

"Wait a minute, turn to the eleven o'clock, there is a situation." Sergeant Gendarmerie shouted loudly, and the helmsman hurried back to the wheelhouse. The motorboat's engine roared and began to accelerate in the direction directed by the sergeant.

"It looks like a bomber, ready for weapons, there are three live." The sergeant shouted and jumped off the bow. Several gendarmes sitting in the first cabin chatting immediately stood up, and the sergeant took an mp40 submachine gun from a subordinate.

The motorboat was advancing at a rapid speed. Not far away, a brown-green camouflage airplane was half-floating and half-sinking on the surface of the water. There was another person sitting on the fuselage, grasping the antenna pillar on the fuselage with one hand, and waving the other hand desperately towards the motorboat.

The motorboat began to slow down, and then slowly stopped on the side of the plane. (To be continued, please search Piaotian Literature, the novel is better and faster!