Comrade, your ingredients are too complicated.

December 1942, 12, at an airport deep in the mountains northwest of Guojizhuang.

For the current North China Front Army, especially the temporarily assembled Third Flying Division, every day is like walking on ice and every day is like a year.

The Japanese soldiers could not sleep at night and trembled in fear under the devastating bombing of the Eighth Route Army Air Force. Every ray of morning light seemed like a stolen chance of life to them.

"Baga, at a critical moment like this, you are just sitting here eating and waiting to die! This is no longer just ordinary dereliction of duty, I must strike hard!"

"Take off your boots and socks! I'm going to teach you a lesson today with this cleaning rod."

"I will make you remember with your flesh and blood what it means to be loyal to His Majesty the Heavenly Locust!"

Major Miyabe, the only remaining phoenix of the 3rd Flying Division of the North China Front Army.

This Army Aviation ace-to-be not only had extensive combat experience, but was also famous for having miraculously survived three burning fighter planes.

When the 1st Air Division of the Eighth Route Army was still underdeveloped, his original air combat survival teaching saved dozens of his subordinates and even became a model for major air forces to emulate.

This unique survival wisdom earned him the unanimous respect of everyone from the headquarters to the recruits.

It's a pity that the beloved Major Miyabe has long passed away. Having lived in a high-pressure environment for a long time, he has now become a complete sadist.

"Hi!"

After receiving the order from his superiors, the desperate private tremblingly untied his leggings, revealing his feet that had already been frostbitten.

Under the instruction of Major Miyabe, two sergeants stepped forward, pressed the punished soldier down on the ammunition box, and fastened his ankles with belts.

"Snapped!"

The rod of the Type 38 rifle cut through the air, making a sharp whistling sound. When the first blow of the spirit stick hit the arch of the soldier's foot, the collision between flesh and metal made a dull sound that made people's teeth ache.

As soon as the punished soldier screamed, his mouth was blocked by a ball of dirty cloth.

This is the rule of the airport. You must not disturb other people's rest.

"Snapped!"

The punishment was still going on. Major Miyabe's face was splashed with blood, but he didn't care at all. He just repeated the whipping action with a crazy look on his face.

Unlike the instantaneous pain caused by the Navy's spirit-infusing stick, the Army's spirit stick is a continuous torture.

The unique angles of the rifle cleaning rod left a chessboard-like bloody mark on the soles of the soldier's feet. The fifteenth blow even ripped the soldier's toenail off.

Just as the punished person was about to lose consciousness, a lieutenant suddenly ran out from the combat briefing room and shouted to his colleagues in the open space:
"Enemy attack! The Eighth Route Army Air Force launched air strikes on airports in Hebei Province and Chahar at the same time! The field airport at the border between Shanxi and Hebei has been attacked!"

"We have suffered heavy losses, and our troops are disappearing like cherry blossoms."

After hearing this, Major Miyabe almost laughed out of anger. Disappearing like a fucking cherry blossom, who is this romantic staff officer's subordinate? Why didn't he notice it before?

But the next second, his pupils suddenly contracted, obviously realizing the seriousness of the matter.

Gongbu rushed to the alarm station like an arrow from a bow, and the two sergeants were dragged by him and staggered. The three men divided the work and performed their duties, lifted the waterproof cloth of the alarm and started to operate the crank.

"Creak. Crack."

The rusty hand crank groaned as it turned violently, and the shrill air raid sirens instantly tore through the silence of the entire base.

It is obvious that the Japanese who lost air superiority have already engraved air defense drills into their bones.

The moment the alarm sounded, the entire airport started running like a wound-up spring.

The wooden sliding door of the barracks was violently knocked open from the inside. The pilots ran out grabbing their hats, some jumped on tricycles, and some ran barefoot directly to the apron.

Some of the barefoot Japanese soldiers still had purple and black bruises on the soles of their feet left by the spirit sticks a few days ago, but they seemed to feel no pain and continued to run wildly on the gravel track.

"Everyone, attention! Enemy aircraft are coming! First level combat readiness! 25mm high-angle machine guns, confirm magazines are loaded! Take advantage of the twin-mounted guns and prioritize fire on the pilot aircraft!"

"You two, please return to the anti-aircraft artillery position. Before the flight squadron officially takes off, the air defense of the airport is in your hands!"

"Saeki-kun, let's go! Get airborne! Stop the enemy!"

As it turned out, the Japanese airport was being maintained very quickly.

Even though they were affected by the severe winter weather, only 6 minutes and 17 seconds had passed before two Type Fighting Falcons roared towards the runway.

Their front main wheels had not yet completely left the ground, but the strong winds created by the propellers had already torn apart the snow on the side of the runway.

However, the dark cloud of death had already covered the sky, and six Storm fighters appeared!
"Is that a new type of aircraft? You must be kidding. With such a bulky fuselage, its dive speed is at least twice that of the Type 2000 attack aircraft!" "Quick! Northwest, enemy bomber groups are approaching at high speed! Altitude !"

"25mm machine gun, range 1800! Focus fire on the one at the front of the formation!"

The moment the enemy plane appeared, the air in the Japanese anti-aircraft artillery position suddenly solidified, and the captain commander's brows were twisted into a deep groove.

There was no other reason, it was just that the dive of the Eighth Route Army's attack aircraft was too amazing and the speed was so fast that the "Aircraft Identification Manual" issued by the front and division became waste paper.

During World War II, professional enemy aircraft identification capabilities could increase air defense efficiency by more than 30%.

But now the Japs can’t even tell the difference between a typhoon and a storm, how can we fight them?
"Attention all gun positions! Altitude 1500, covering fire!" The captain gritted his teeth and gave the order. Since accurate identification was impossible, he could only make up for it with the most primitive firepower coverage.

Just when the Army's Type 96 Divine Cannon had just begun firing, a shrill warning suddenly came from the outermost position.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way! The caliber of those attack planes' machine guns must be 20mm!"

Before he could finish his words, the first wave of Western artillery shells had already torn through the sandbag bunker, and the splashing dirt and gravel hit the barrel of the Type 96 anti-aircraft gun, making a rustling sound.

The Storm roared out from the dark clouds like the god of death, and the red star on its wing shone blood-red in the morning sun.

It dived down at a nearly vertical angle, the scream of the Sabre engine completely drowning out the roar of the ground anti-aircraft guns. The four western guns on both wings spewed out flames, plowing a trail of death on the battlefield.

"Baga! Advance! Advance!"

"All gun positions! Coverage fire from an altitude of 500 meters! Concentrate your fire to shoot down the Republic of China's fighter planes!"

"Damn it! Did you listen to my orders carefully? You can't even fire ahead of time. Are you undercover agents sent by the navy?"

Amid the captain's shouting and cursing, the gunners of the Type 96 Cannon tried in vain to turn the elevation and steering controls, but the dive speed of the Storm was too fast and they could not lock onto it at all.

The explosion points of the 25mm shells were connected behind it, but they were always a beat slower.

"Hide! Hide quickly!" someone shouted at the top of his lungs.

But it was too late.

Although the troops directly under the North China Front Army often conducted anti-aircraft drills, this was their first time facing the Second Air Division of the Eighth Route Army. Except for a few old devils who had participated in Operation No. 1's southward transportation, the others could not react at all.

The barrage of shells from the Western artillery easily overturned several Type 96 cannons, and the broken parts and the gunners' body parts flew into the air.

After completing the attack, the attack plane turned sideways gracefully, its wings drawing a graceful arc in the sun, as if mocking the weakness of the ground's air defense firepower.

When the smoke cleared, all that remained on the battlefield were twisted gun barrels and burning wreckage.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A wave of unrest, a wave of up again.

At the same moment when the anti-aircraft artillery position was attacked, the group of fighter planes on the apron also suffered a devastating disaster.

The Type 97 fighter had just started its engine and its propeller was still turning slowly when a swooping rocket pierced through the cockpit.

The fuel tank of the Type 1 Fighter Falcon was licked by the cannon flames, and instantly turned into a twisted ball of flames. The pilot of the Type 2 Fighter Falcon didn't even have time to unbuckle his seat belt before the entire fighter plane was torn apart by the shock wave of the explosion.

The emergency takeoff procedure had just begun when it failed.

"Quick! Get back to the position!"

"The enemy's attack just now was mainly based on aircraft artillery, and they haven't used up their bombs and rockets yet."

"Gentlemen, point your guns to the northeast. Over there are our oil and ammunition depots. We must defend the last storage point for supplies!"

Seeing six attack planes pulling up their noses and starting to climb and turn one after another, the lieutenant in the air defense observation post grabbed the intercom and shouted orders to the gun position below.

The flying squadron was already gone, and if he couldn't save the oil depot and the ammunition depot, he would have to commit seppuku to apologize even if he survived.

At the moment when all the Japanese gunners completed the firing range calibration and were ready to fire a barrage of bullets at the highest rate of fire, their pupils suddenly shrank and an incredible scene appeared in their gun scopes.

I saw a dragon of fire bursting out from the belly of the enemy plane out of range.

The scream coming from the sky was completely different from the sound of ordinary bombs and rockets. It was a heavier and slower hum of death.

Tiny Tim Yellow River replica, coming! (End of this chapter)