Battle of the Third Reich

The three Messerschmitts gently drawn an arc in the air, turned their noses and flew back to the air station.

There was still a panic next to the runway at the base, but there were finally some sharp eyes in the French. When the German plane just passed overhead, it saw the iron cross mark under the wing.

"Stop the fire! Major, let them all stop the fire. Those three are Messerschmitt." An air lieutenant found Major Bertrand in the chaotic flow.

"What's Messerschmitt?" Young Bertrand held a young female nurse in the direction of the air defense trench and heard his subordinates call him to stop.

"It's 109, it's a German fighter!" Lieutenant Raoul, a flying squad leader with a bushy beard, pointed to the sky and shouted.

"Are you sure?" Bertrand also had some doubts. He was an executive officer, and he was not very good at aircraft identification.

"I can guarantee that the wings of that thing are painted with iron crosses underneath." The captain wiped the sweat from his face, but he forgot that his fingers were covered with the oil on the fire pump, which was originally too rough. Xia Zi can't read anymore.

"Damn it! It's too late. They flew back." Bertrand was really anxious this time, the base was beaten into this miserable image and he could blame the enemy for the attack, but then he also laid down allies in a panic. This is really justified, and if you fail, you may be sent to a military court.

"Play a signal flare and disarm!" Raoul reminded.

"Yes! Beat the flare!" Bertrand turned around and pointed to the underground shelter 100 meters away.

"You go there and look for Captain Fred, and tell him to immediately convey my orders, all the gun positions cease immediately, and the sky is the friendly army." The major shouted to the female nurse, and then regardless of whether she understood it, just The girl pushed a hand on her back.

"You guys follow me." The major waved to the pilots and then ran towards the convertible parked at the top of the runway.

"It's the command car of Lieutenant Colonel Gaston. You can find it in the back seat. You can check the trunk." Bertrand jumped into the cab and turned around to find it.

This is a Renault 1930 four-wheel convertible car. The colonial government purchased about 100 vehicles from the French mainland for the military and government departments to use as buses.

After the military gets this four-wheeled car, it will generally carry out some necessary modifications. Now the car under the major's **** is one of the most common modified models. On the right side of the rear seat of the car, a nine-watt communication radio station is installed. In good weather, especially in this plain, the communication distance can reach more than six kilometers.

Usually the colonial mobile forces use it as a first-line command communication vehicle, which has become the standard equipment for battalion-level motorized units in the French Indochina colony. Especially in the recent days, various defense groups are stepping up to expand the army. This type of modified car has become the object of competition for various new units.

At Shishufeng Air Station, this car was used for air voice communication with pilots, directing the aircraft to take off and land nearby, playing a role similar to a temporary tower. Therefore, in the air station, this car has been used by Lieutenant Colonel Gaston, the deputy commander of the air station in charge of flight operations. Without his permission, no one can borrow it at will.

"Found it, flare! Sir!" A pilot turned over a carton.

"Give you a signal gun." Bertrand unbuttoned the signal gun from the rearview mirror and handed it to the other party with the holster attached.

"How many rounds?"

"Green, two shots green, look for it."

"Hurry up, this group of guys are already firing!"

"Be careful, don't worry, don't worry!"

"Don't you see what I'm looking for? Who hit my head." Next to this small command car, a bunch of rough guys quarreled.

"I found it! I found it!" An air force lieutenant who looked like the killer Leon, raised a signal shell with a silver shell, and the look on his face was like a stolen candy. Like children.

"Come here!" The man holding the signal gun, without saying anything, grabbed the signal bullet and skillfully put it in the barrel and closed the barrel.

A cloud of smoke rose, and two green flares swayed into the sky like fireworks. Then there were two more shots, fearing that it would be difficult to be found in the sun. The group simply hit all the green flares on their hands.

It seems that it has been going through quite a long time, but in fact it all happened within half a minute.

At the moment, eight green signal flares were hanging in the air at the air station, and they were slowly falling with white smoke tails. Even a fool should have discovered it.

The green signal flare is an emergency ceasefire signal agreed by the air station. In fact, it should use an alarm during the day, but that thing has been blown to pieces with the control tower.

In fact, the signal did work. Several anti-aircraft machine guns stopped firing after firing several rounds. Even if the soldiers on the battle position were dull, they should have noticed something was wrong.

"It seems that the French have finally reacted." Sporru looked at the green signal flare in the air and said that the ground fire had stopped shooting. It was obvious that the French were aware of the oolong incident they had made.

"White No.3, White No.4, follow me!" Spruce pushed hard and stepped on the rudder. The aircraft made a fierce barrel roll, and immediately the nose pressed, and began to dive rapidly.

"Raoul! You said they were German planes!" Major Bertrand, who was sitting in the command car at the top of the runway, could not continue to see the shadow of a eagle falcon falling fast, and the sharp screams of the engine from the sky. Keep calm, this movement doesn't look very friendly.

"It's bf109. I'll bet you next month's salary." Raoul stood up in the passenger seat and grabbed the windshield frame in front.

"They are about to fire!" A pilot pushed the car door and wanted to jump down.

"Don't worry, it's not like an offensive move, they rush too hard." The comrades on the side grabbed the collar in front.

As they were still arguing, the three 109s were already less than three hundred meters from the runway. Sparrow flattened the fuselage sharply, and the plane fell to fifty meters at this time. Looking on the ground, the huge iron cross on the wing seemed to be within reach.

Like the two subordinates, Sporru also painted his own unique paint, which is a unique ivory white, the engine fairing is all painted pink, and a blood red rose is painted on the side of the cockpit. The Iron Cross machine emblem is painted with her captain's logo on the front, and the white number 1 with red border on the rear, and a total of 31 crash marks on the rudder at the rear.

The three brightly painted fighters aimed at the runway, and once again lowered their altitude, almost screaming past the head of Major Bertrand, and the Germans lined up with a standard three-machine squadron. The distance is like measuring it with a ruler. At a glance, the insider knows that it is definitely not an ordinary pilot sitting in the cockpit.

"It's all German ace pilots, and I bet with my salary next month." Raoul yelled.

"Keep your salary, the blind can see that these Germans are awesome." Major Bertrand started the car, and the pilots standing next to the car quickly jumped onto the footboard.

"Look, what did they throw away." A sharp-eyed pilot shouted at the runway.

In the direction of his fingers, a small gray-green tin can was seen rolling in the middle of the runway, and a small white parachute was dragged behind the buttocks. This is a German standard airdrop communication tank. Generally, German reconnaissance planes and liaison planes use this to communicate with ground troops when radios are not available. The Germans often use this method to deliver items to the troops, such as written by superiors. Commands and the latest tactical maps, or things like medals and medals.

The French major hurried to the tank and drove to the tank. A pilot jumped out of the car and ran over, and then ran back with the can in the size of a gas mask tube.

The three planes have already completed their ultra-low altitude. Normally, they started to climb high from the end of the runway. It seems that they want to do it again.

"Give me the jar, don't squeeze it. I'm the highest-ranking officer here. Give me the jar." Bertrand shouted.

"Colonel Martin is not dead yet."

"Old Martin's lungs opened a mouth. I've seen it. It's miserable. May God bless him."

"Really? Poor old guy, obviously retiring." A few middle-aged men who were out of tune began to talk again.

"It's the radio frequency, the communication frequency, the hell's communication frequency, who will operate this radio station." Beltran lifted a piece of paper in his hand, which appeared to be torn from a notebook. The red pencil is a string of numbers.

"I'm going to play with this." The stubble-faced pilot, who looked like the killer Leon, grabbed the piece of paper.

"Raymond, when did you learn to operate a radio station." A pilot slapped his back hard.

"What did you guys learn in the aviation school? How did you wash the feet of the headmaster's wife?" Lieutenant Raymond sneered, turning on the radio.

"Isn't this your best? You dude." My friend rubbed Raymond's hair.

"Hush! Quiet! Shut up to me, you fools! Take away your dirty hands, this is a newly-made uniform, yes, it looks a little dusty, so what, it is still new." Major Bertrand shot and killed a **** path from the front seat to the back seat.

"It's all quiet. I got in touch." Raymond pressed the headset with one hand and tuned the frequency with the other.

"This is Shishufeng Air Station, Bluebeard? Yes, yes, it is Bluebeard." The pilot called in a heavy German accent.

"Okay, I'll let my chief talk to you immediately." Raymond saw a ghost on his face and handed the headset in his hand to Beltran.

"You won't believe it. It's a woman talking inside?" Raymond whispered to his surrounding companions.

"It must be mentally disturbed. I have heard of this kind of thing. It sounds like a woman when I hear it. I should give this poor guy a holiday."

"The Germans let women fly fighters? The Virgin Mary."

"Don't talk nonsense, maybe the frequency is wrong." A group of bored uncles found a new topic and started a new round of discussion.

ps: catch up, thank you for your consideration.