You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

"Haha, just kidding, don't be so nervous."

Shen Wang smiled and stopped keeping him in suspense.

"Deputy Director, to be honest with you, the bombers I brought this time are proper medium-range strategic bombers, with a maximum range of 6000 kilometers!"

"Operational radius: 3000 kilometers!"

boom!

These words struck the deputy director like a thunderbolt, exploding in his mind!

He felt a surge of hot blood rush from his feet to the top of his head.

"3000 kilometers... 3000 kilometers..."

"Mr. Shen! This... if we take off from Zhicheng, wouldn't that... wouldn't that be enough to cover mainland Japan and reach Tokyo directly?"

What does a combat radius of 3000 kilometers mean?

This means that if the bombs were taken from southeastern Shanxi, they could not only cover the Japanese-occupied areas of North China, Central China, and Northeast China, but also cross the East China Sea directly and drop bombs right in front of the Emperor's palace!

While it's not enough to cover the entire territory of Japan, dropping a few bombs on the Emperor's head is no problem!

This means that they finally have the strength to fight their way to the Japanese headquarters!

Why did the Japanese dare to act so recklessly on Chinese soil? It was because they believed they were invincible.

Even though the Eighth Route Army is advancing rapidly, the Japanese are not truly afraid.

At worst, I'll just go back to my hometown in Japan. Anyway, you guys can't beat me!

Shen Wang smiled and nodded as he watched the deputy director become so excited that he lost his composure.

"Deputy Director, come with me to the airport. They should be almost ready."

Shen Wang has been quite busy these past two days.

The First Flight Group was also busy.

In this era without satellite navigation, crossing the ocean to reach a place 2500 kilometers away was no easy feat.

There's a lot to prepare.

……

Before long, Shen Wang and the deputy director arrived at the airport.

The sentry at the gate saw Shen Wang's convoy and stood at attention and saluted from a distance, the butt of his rifle making a crisp sound as it struck the ground beside his feet.

Shen Wang rolled down the car window and nodded at him. The sentry's face was tense, but his eyes shone with a light—the light of seeing his own people, the light of seeing his leader.

The car stopped beside the runway. The deputy director had just opened the car door when he froze.

He was speechless at what he saw. Ten H-6 bombers were lined up neatly on the runway, their noses facing east, like ten crouching giants. Their gray-green fuselages gleamed under the lights on both sides of the runway, and the bomb bay doors under their bellies were open, revealing the dark cavities inside.

Ground crew scurried around the plane like ants, some pushing fuel trucks, some carrying bombs, some climbing on the wings to check the flaps, and some squatting next to the landing gear to tighten screws.

No one was idle, no one was talking, everyone was busy working, only the clanging of tools and the occasional low growl of the engine as it warmed up echoed in the morning air.

Gao Zilong was the first to see Shen Wang.

He crawled out from under the wing, threw his oil-stained gloves on the ground, and jogged over.

He ran up to Shen Wang, stood at attention, and saluted.

His hand was held upright, fingertips level with his eyebrows, and remained perfectly still.

"Mr. Shen!"

Behind him, Zhao Dahe, Li Tiezhu, and the busy pilots and ground crew all stopped what they were doing, turned around, stood at attention, and saluted.

Shen Wang stopped.

His gaze swept across Gao Zilong's face, then across Zhao Dahe's face, and across those oil-stained, tired, yet bright eyes.

He raised his hand and returned the greeting.

"Keep working."

He said three words, not loudly, but everyone could hear him.

The crowd dispersed as if a switch had been flipped, each returning to their respective posts.

Those pushing oil tankers continued pushing oil tankers, those hanging bombs continued hanging bombs, and those drawing charts kept their heads down and continued calculating. No one gave them a second glance, and no one said a word.

But the deputy director noticed that those people were working faster and more efficiently than before, as if they had been injected with some kind of energy.

Shen Wang walked along the track, with the deputy director following beside him.

The two walked slowly, but with long strides.

Gao Zilong followed behind Shen Wang, clutching a roll of navigation charts in his hand, reporting as he walked.

"The fuel is fully loaded, 53,000 liters per aircraft, with an error margin of no more than 0.3%. Ground crew leader Li Tiezhu and his team checked it three times, and not a single drop was wasted."

Gao Zilong's voice was a little hoarse, but he pronounced each word very clearly.

"The bombs are loaded, ninety tons of incendiary bombs, nine tons per aircraft!"

Shen Wang nodded without saying anything.

The deputy director's attention, however, was drawn to something else.

On the side of the runway, several pilots squatted on the ground, with aeronautical charts spread out in front of them and slide rules in their hands, rapidly calculating something.

A young pilot muttered to himself, scribbling names on a piece of paper with a pencil. He calculated it once, checked it again, and calculated it again. Only when all three calculations were correct did he dare to mark it on the aeronautical chart.

A person next to him handed him a water bottle. He took it, took a sip, but didn't swallow it. He held it in his mouth, his eyes still fixed on the navigation chart, as if waiting for the water to clear his head.

"What are they planning?" the deputy director asked Gao Zilong in a low voice.

"Reporting, sir! They are correcting their course."

Gao Zilong didn't know the deputy director, but he knew that Mr. Shen's personal accompaniment meant he must be a big shot from headquarters.

Gao Zilong continued, "Without a navigation station or radio, we could only rely on maps, compasses, and stopwatches. Wind direction, wind speed, temperature, and air pressure—each of these factors could cause the plane to veer off course."

"A deviation of one degree means that if the plane flies 100 kilometers, it will deviate by nearly two kilometers."

"Flying to the Japanese headquarters is 2,500 kilometers, but deviating by one degree means going more than 40 kilometers off course."

"More than 40 kilometers away, we couldn't find the target, we couldn't drop the bombs accurately, and we didn't have enough fuel to return. So we had to calculate, calculate again and again, until we had a clear idea of ​​what was going on."

The deputy director looked at those young faces, some still bearing traces of childishness, with dark circles under their eyes.

He opened his mouth as if to ask something, but then swallowed his words back.

A bombing journey spanning 2,500 kilometers—this may be the first time in the world!

"Has the navigation problem been resolved?" Shen Wang asked.

Gao Zilong handed over the nautical chart in his hand.

The paper was crumpled and fuzzy, with the edges worn and covered in dense pencil lines and numbers. Some parts were erased and redrawn, and the paper was almost worn through.

"Seven times! We calculated each route seven times, keeping the error within three per thousand!"

"As long as the weather is fine, we can get there before dawn, find the target after dawn, and return after dropping the bombs."

Shen Wang took the nautical chart, glanced at it, and said nothing.

He rolled up the nautical chart and handed it back to Gao Zilong.

Then he turned around and looked at the people still busy at work on the side of the track.

A ground crew member crawled out from under the wing, his face covered in grease, his hands cut in several places, blood smeared on the metal. He wiped it with his sleeve and continued working.

Shen Wang stopped in front of a H-6 bomber.

He looked up at the huge nose of the plane, at the red five-pointed star painted on it, for several seconds.

"Deputy Director, are you... satisfied with the gift I prepared for the Japanese devils?"