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The torpedoes dropped by the Barracuda attack aircraft passed through the gap between the two missile destroyers and accidentally and coincidentally detonated the missile vertical launch system at the front of the USS Ezogon.
Instantly, the entire sea surface was ablaze with flames. The iron can that had just been shaken to even out the human flesh inside was now being torn apart by a welding torch as if filled with gunpowder. The ignited missiles began to explode uncontrollably one after another inside the ship. The intense flames and shockwaves instantly ripped this 180-meter-long behemoth to shreds, turning it into a steel mushroom cloud filled with flesh and death over the Baltic Sea.
The terrifying destructive force of the ship's missile explosions created a massive wave that not only launched several still-swimming torpedoes into the air, but also completely capsized the Cassrow, its superstructure plunging into the sea like an anchor. Immediately following, several aerial torpedoes, already launched at the ship, pierced large holes in the submerged steel shells.
The only remaining survivor was Colonel Bessall, who had just climbed onto the lifeboat of the Anna Seiler and taken the captain's binoculars. His clothes were soaked with seawater and blood, and he gazed at the propellers of the Cassrow slowly sinking into the sea—the last traces left by the two missile destroyers in the Baltic Sea.
"Did you see any survivors in the water?"
"...NO...NO..."
……
At that moment, in the distant strait, Admiral Cunningham, sitting on the bridge of the aircraft carrier HMS Formidable, received news of the great victory of the entire carrier air squadron.
"Great, very good, Royal Navy lads." A smug smile crept onto his lips. Now for his next task, he immediately instructed his crew to send new orders to HMS London, which was nearby.
Not long after, the crew of the Sea Otter seaplane, which had taken off from HMS London, raised their noses after receiving orders from the captain and headed toward the bomber formation that was gradually approaching from the North Sea sky.
Chapter 267, Section 348: Fortresses of the Coast and the Sky
When anything appears in a group in a place for the first time, it means something big is about to happen.
This was the first time the European continent had witnessed its true form—slender, elongated wings, a clean, cylindrical fuselage, a smooth nose and cockpit without any sharp edges, and four powerful Wright R3350 four-bladed propeller engines. The B-29 Superfortress, leading a large number of Royal Air Force Lancasters behind it, flew in neat box formation, inhaling the mist and water droplets of Great Britain and tasting the salty, humid air over the North Sea, as it soared over the Jutland Peninsula and into the skies above the Baltic Sea.
Under the nose of the B-29 flying at the front as the leader, there was a picture of an ugly ghost being burned by a small oil lamp—a small mustache on his lip, deep wrinkles on his face and dark yellow skin, a pair of round lenses the size of toad eyes in front of his eyes, and a mournful mouth stretched to his prominent cheekbones. Even without the English written next to it, one could recognize what kind of trash he was.
"Tojo's Stove" refers to Hideki Tojo's fireplace.
The new captain, however, seemed unaware that three months had passed since Private First Class Tojo's suicide attempt when the plane rolled off the production line. It just so happened that he had recovered and been discharged from the hospital, and even received a set of dentures from an American dentist.
Why not? If Tojo doesn't receive porcelain teeth, then the "Hideki Furnace" will naturally send the new Tojo something good to bake, won't it?
"Oh, I suppose I can see the St. George's flag now." Let's call the captain of this B-29 "Furnace" for now, based on the aircraft's code name. "How wonderful. I had a big E company to see me off when I left, and here I still have an aircraft carrier as a beacon. Huh? It's pretty much the same as in the Pacific Ocean."
At this moment, seaplanes flying from beside the heavy cruiser HMS London slowly approached below the bomber group.
"Calling, Superfortress leader, Lancaster leader, calling!" came the seaplane communications officer's voice over the radio. "The clown's gone to feed the fish, repeat! The clown's gone to feed the fish!"
"Clown" refers to the Britannian naval fleet. If the communications officer calls out "The clown has hitched a ride," it means that a surviving warship is returning; if it calls out "The clown has returned from fishing," it means that a surviving warship has already returned to port. Both of these results require the super air fortress and Lancaster to concentrate their attacks on Rostock Harbor to immediately destroy the foundation of the Britannian navy.
Now, they have received news of the complete annihilation of the Britannian fleet. Rostock Port can simply be handed over to the Royal Air Force, as the Superfortress has other tasks to perform.
"Looks like I'll have to get home first and wait for you all to return, gentlemen." The Lancaster squadron leader greeted Captain Firewood with a greeting, and then the behemoths painted with red and blue concentric circles slowly increased their speed and began to decrease. Seeing this, the B-29s also adjusted their formation under the orders of the British pilot Firewood, maintaining their current altitude and continuing to fly slightly due east.
"I hope these bugs will like your new gifts, Englishmen."
……
At this moment, air raid sirens blared in Rostock harbor. General Windsor ordered his soldiers to drive the KMFs and infantry fighting vehicles to the anti-aircraft positions, preparing as much anti-aircraft firepower as possible while anxiously awaiting air support from their own side.
Of course, they also had to help deal with another matter, such as the armed helicopter trailing thick smoke that had just returned after circling most of Rügen Island and narrowly escaping death—it was originally a carrier-based aircraft from the Ezogon.
"Are you alright, son?" The plane had come to a stop, and Windsor followed a large group of soldiers to carry the injured pilot onto a stretcher. "Can you tell me about the situation at sea?"
"I'm sorry, General... cough cough." The pilot coughed a few times. "I'm sorry, the last thing I saw was Soviet warships and patrol boats approaching the lifeboats of the Anna Seymour and the Ritzia... They may not be coming back..."
“Then…” Windsor exclaimed in surprise, “Where are your crewmates? And the Cassell?”
"Until they sank completely, not a single floating lifebuoy could be found in their splash..."
With a desperate and sorrowful sob, the general helplessly saw the young man off as he was carried to the emergency room, then stood there, head bowed, stunned, in silence for a long time.
“There’s another message, General!” Just then, another officer ran over. “We’ve spotted a squadron of bombers flying further east over the distant sea. I’ve already informed General Trossa there on your behalf.”
……
B-29s had descended over the western sky of Rügen Island, whose land had been turned gray by the ravages of artillery fire. Stralsund continued its attack on the opposite shore like a fruit tree in the process of falling fruit. As for the Baltic Sea further away, it had long since turned into a gloomy rain cloud in the wrecked battlefield of the naval battle, exuding the smell of melting warships.
"Thank goodness, any later and all the cannons they set up on the ground would have been gone." Captain Huo Lu looked intently at the land. "All crews, prepare to drop bombs!"
"Watch out, British aircraft are on fire!" The wingman "Sexy Casey" called out over the radio, "Enemy air interception forces are attacking from the direction of Rügen Island. The number two engine of 'Vulture Pirate' just went out."
"Execute your orders, officer." Captain Firefly temporarily cut off the radio, coldly listening to the bombardier shout "Bombs on the way," before preparing to witness everything on the ground turn into rampant fireballs and thick smoke from the sky.
The coastline of the mainland and the beaches of Rügen Island were littered with supplies being sent to the island; the outskirts and squares of Stralsund and Samtens were lined with firepower ready to continue bombarding Soviet positions. Now that they were thinking of escaping, it was too late.
In an instant, beneath the colorful ripples of the sky as the super air fortress swept across, a small town of ten thousand people, a quiet village, which had not suffered much damage in the world war and the iron cavalry of the Soviet army, was now like a wrecked truck thrown into a furnace.
This is a dance party, which needs someone to lead the dance and more people to join in. The raging wind, a mixture of high-explosive and incendiary bombs, takes the lead, ravaging the roads and squares, infecting the onlookers who are also driven by enthusiasm. KMF and tanks clink glasses with each other with bursts of electric sparks, houses scatter colorful ribbons of bricks and tiles with their upturned eaves, trees turn into lights, streets turn into the River Styx, and the flagpole on the city hall waves goodbye to the Britannian flag in the gradually burning rope after the hammer and sickle have been put away.
Without the cacophony of artillery fire and the eerie murmurs of engines, everything fell silent amidst the thunderous roar of the flames.
"Where is our air cover?" Only then did Captain Huolu reconnect with Captain Casey, picking his nose and looking out the cockpit window at the sky where the KMFs were closing in. "Where are all the P-51s?"
"I don't know!" After Casey looked around, another radio call suddenly came through. "Hey boss! I just got a call from the rear of the formation. Our Guardian Angels are being held up by the enemy, and two more British Lancasters are on their way!"
"British?"
"Yes, sir! Their wings and engines are completely broken. They're planning to crash and make an emergency landing in Soviet-occupied territory on Rügen Island, and there are more than ten KMFs chasing after them!"
"Is the bombing complete?" Fire Furnace thought for a moment. "All bomber formation, listen up! Follow my command and turn right as a group. Machine guns ready!"
"Wh-what?" Captain Casey was frantic. "Boss! The right side is much further from the coast. The enemy will come to our aid from Berlin, and we'll be stuck in a fierce battle!"
"The Fortresses live for battle!"
With a resolute command from Captain Huolu, dozens of Superfortresses began to collectively tilt and turn to the right in the sky, forming an arc in the path of the Lancaster, much like the arresting ropes on an aircraft carrier, or a battleship formation vying for the T-head in a naval battle.
The six .50 caliber machine guns in the two turrets on the top of each bomber were all aimed at the puppets that were closely chasing Lancaster. It was like a powerful hurricane of bullets, and the sky was filled with withered branches and leaves that were blown up into the clouds by a wildfire in the storm.
Two heavily damaged Lancasters navigated the eye of the storm amidst a barrage of machine gun fire, bullets whizzing past their wingtips and propeller blades without taking a single bite. Outside the eye of the storm, devastation raged, with no escape routes. One KMF after another vanished like scrap metal thrown into a shredder, the bursts of fire flashing against the red and blue concentric circles of the Lancaster's insignia, like an electrocardiogram in an emergency room, flickering with the faint light of survival.
……
Of course, it wasn't without its price. Several Gloucesters and the flamboyant Vincent managed to turn the tide against the B-29s' daring counterattacks. However, two Lancasters managed to escape. One skidded along the road on Rügen Island and bumped into a ZIS-3 field gun, while the other fell into the sea.
"Oh, this is terrible." The captain, soaked in waist-deep seawater in the cabin, alongside two wounded machine gunners, exclaimed, "We have to get out!"
"Report, sir!" The bombardier tried to pry open the hatch at the rear of the aircraft. "The door is jammed! We can't get out!"
"Damn it! Aren't these 'alien compatriots' incredibly accurate with their guns?!" The captain tried to find a wound in the cockpit with his feet and eyes. "They've all hit the engine and the wings?"
As the blood-red seawater was about to reach his neck, he simply threw off his hat, looked up, and sighed deeply.
"I'm sorry, British Fireplace, I can no longer reciprocate by offering you that bottle of whisky."
However, at that moment he felt a shadow overhead, and the glass of the machine gun turret, along with its steel frame, was shattered by a boat oar.
"How about I get them a bottle of vodka?" The pilots all looked up in surprise and saw a Red Navy officer in a blue and white striped shirt leaning halfway out, answering the captain in Russian-accented English.
After the British pilots were dragged out of the cockpit one by one, the captain finally saw the situation around him: they were only a few miles from the shore of Rügen Island, and they could see the HMS Fierce, whose side had been hit by a missile, lying on the beach with half of its hull showing and listing. Soviet medics were also wading through the sea towards the ship.
The Gorky and four other battered destroyers were sailing back from the west, with the Britannian flag, salvaged from the sinking site of the Riezia, hanging on their decks. Meanwhile, the battleship October Revolution, still billowing smoke but no longer ablaze, was anchored beside the Lancaster on the sea, continuing to lower lifeboats and row towards them.
……
"General Windsor! General Trossa! Please provide a detailed report on the situation near Rostock and Rügen! Respond when you hear me!"
"Rostock has been attacked by British bombers! We are salvaging the buildings and facilities in the harbor. Some people are showing signs of fainting, nausea and vomiting. The chemical defense team has begun to investigate. It seems that there are strange things in the bombs dropped by the British warplanes."
Berlin hadn't been this disheveled in a long time, amidst the incoherent radio reports.
Elizabeth handed over all command and control to her brother, letting her anger and resentment push her toward her aircraft. She coldly uttered a few words, and the Lancelot Judge, carrying the hadron cannon, returned to the sky with its guards.
“Sister…” Kelly shook her head helplessly and irritably. The annihilation of the fleet and the weakening of the Elbe River’s air defenses were already enough to trouble and unsettle her. Now, a large number of bombers were trying to approach the 13th parallel east where Berlin was located. Just now, he and several generals were almost slashed by her sword while trying to dissuade them.
"The Americans and the British have both been hit by the Strongball Cannon before, so they couldn't possibly have come unprepared this time." Although this blow was indeed quite significant, she was, after all, her own sister, and she couldn't let anger cloud her judgment.
However, at that moment, a report came from the command center that made everyone's hearts tighten.
"Report! The air defense network in the lower Elbe River is being held back by American and British fighter jets. Several squadrons have broken through the defenses and entered the occupied area. The KMFs behind are currently pursuing and driving them away. Only one British two-plane formation has been missed."
"Gone?" Kelly couldn't understand. "What is the commander doing? It's just two planes, and we can even identify their insignia. Can't they find any trace of them?"
"Uh, sorry, Your Highness!" The lieutenant colonel's voice came through at this moment, "After we locked onto the approximate location of the enemy aircraft, we dispatched air force units to intercept them, but they were flying too fast and we couldn't catch up."
"What the hell do you mean by not being able to catch up?!"
Chapter 268, Section 349: My Name is Meteor, Phoenix Never Sets
"You only leave such a small number of personal guards by your side, Your Highness?"
"I'll repeat myself: obey orders and don't make me waste my breath."
Elizabeth's Lancelot Inquisitor, flanked by Vincent's two guards, sped north toward Rügen Island, cutting off the American bombers' way home.
Just like the ambush over Berlin last time, in order not to expose her presence, or rather, not to be so conspicuous in the sky, she had to reduce the number of bodyguards. Of course, she also removed unnecessary badges from her own aircraft, making it indistinguishable from the Imperial Guards. Then, more peripheral security and escort forces were deployed at a distance in the horizontal direction.
"Um, I'm sorry, Your Highness." Iska, also a member of the Imperial Guard, was in the rear escort squad, helping to coordinate the defense personnel. "This is all the personnel I can get to be in place immediately. I've assigned most of them to your right flank airspace, since your position is closer to Soviet airspace."
"In place? What does that mean?"
"What I mean is, if you and our seventh-generation fighters are willing to fly a little slower, the additional Sunderland and Gloucester escorts should still be able to get into position, but you won't be able to catch up with the US bombing squadrons..."
"Get out!" Elizabeth cursed, without lowering the KMF's engine output at all. She looked up at the two young ladies who were escorting her—one of them had a peacock feather painted on the chest of her aircraft, and the other had a flower crown painted on it.
"Your Highness, is something bothering you?" Kong Que Ling asked with concern. "Please tell us, don't try to bear it all alone."
"You two... sigh..." The princess hesitated, unsure where to begin. "You've often served as support and air cover for frontline troops, so you should know how to deal with enemies in District 45, right?"
“Absolutely no problem, Your Highness,” Flower Crown replied. “Not only that, the ordinary pilots who are often in our team are also performing quite well, and many of them have even taken on enemy fighters one-on-one.”
"Then!" Elizabeth suddenly slammed her hand on the cockpit wall and roared angrily, "Can anyone tell me why American and British warplanes have torn such a big hole in the Elbe River these past two days!"
Seeing that the two were silent, probably frightened, Elizabeth had to catch her breath and calm herself down.
"Yes, I admit that hundreds of thousands of soldiers withstood the combined attack of the three nations, and the number of veterans lost was enormous. But almost a month has passed! There are so many new KMFs and pilots, and they haven't missed a single training course, so why can't they be put to good use?!"
"Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness," Kong Que Ling continued, trying to reassure her, "there are really not many objective conditions that satisfy this sky."
“Yes, yes,” Flower Crown quickly added, “Didn’t His Highness Kelly say that there are indeed signs that Britain and the United States have recently deployed more air power in the rear? And we’ve asked the prisoners, and they said that so many British and American pilots were selected from their tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of citizens. According to that ratio, even if every KMF in our nearly two million-strong expeditionary force could have a winged pilot, how many truly outstanding air combat elites could be selected…”
“If we followed the usual Sky Formation, everyone would be fine. Sigh.” Peacock Feather sighed. “The Imperial Guard originally numbered 1,200, accompanying you through the hardships of District 45. The number of survivors has long since plummeted to three digits. I am willing to go through fire and water for Your Highness, but alas, we are not all Valkyries descended from heaven…”
"Perhaps you shouldn't worry about what happened these past two days. There are reports from the front lines that the US and British forces have also suffered significant losses of aircraft. Give our pilots more time to train, and things will get better."
Elizabeth was about to get angry again, but this time, these words came from a veteran who had fought on the front lines, not from those officers who were parasites. After thinking about it, she suppressed her anger.
……
"Calling, this is Pritzkerk, calling!" Suddenly, an officer's voice popped up on the communications panel. "Your Highness Elizabeth, a minute ago two British warplanes flew in formation over our northeast direction, and they are very likely heading towards your location."
"What's wrong with you guys? Aren't the nearby air forces going to intercept us?" Elizabeth looked at the distance between the officer's position and herself. If she sped up and flew away now, she could completely avoid an encounter.
"That's why I'm reporting this to you! Those two planes are extremely fast, and they've already decimated a passing KMF squadron. Please leave that area immediately!"
"what?!"
Before the words were even finished, the three in the formation heard a buzzing sound different from that of a propeller, resembling a typhoon howling out of a ventilation duct, swooping down fiercely from the swirling clouds beside them.
"Your Highness, run! Ah!" Peacock Feather stood in front of Elizabeth's plane, shielding her from several deadly machine gun shells. Meanwhile, Flower Crown, who had just aimed and fired, was killed by another uninvited guest.
Elizabeth pushed the control stick to its limit, but she still couldn't escape the eyes of these uninvited guests. Two fighter planes painted with red and blue concentric circles roared past. Unlike the usual British military birds that were all dark blue, gray and green, these two were covered in gray and white. Their elongated fuselages and wingtips brushed against the wisps of snow clouds. Instead of the propellers, there was a sleek jet engine on each wing.
"Oh, Father..." The princess involuntarily tightened her throat, continuing to accelerate her escape, but she couldn't shake off the two unexpected Gloucester Meteors. "It seems that the people of District 45 have accomplished more than just tank tracks, they also have hairdryers?"
……
"Hello? Please respond!" Iska, who was following far behind, couldn't reach Peacock Feather and Flower Crown. Seeing the black smoke flashing ahead, she realized something was wrong. On the electronic map, the dot representing Elizabeth was crowded together with two small purple balls representing the enemies.
They rushed over with the whole team and saw that Princess Lancelot, the Judge, was locked in a fierce battle with two unknown entities in the sky, the air thick with the smell of burnt bird feathers.
"What's this? Silver Dove has upgraded its weaponry?" Iska panicked for a moment and confused the gray-white enemy plane in front of her with Silver Dove's paint scheme. "Your Highness, come this way quickly!"
The team's six KMFs were divided into two groups on either side under Iska's command, firing as they waited for Elizabeth to pass through the middle. But no one expected that the guy chasing after the princess would be so difficult to deal with. He didn't create much distance at all and easily shot down a Vincent as he passed by on one side.
"What exactly are you planning to do with them! Or do you want to join them in murdering me?" The radio could still hear Elizabeth firing her gun repeatedly; her tone was one of utter madness.
“Uh…” Iska was also stunned. She wanted to lead the others to continue the pursuit, but only Vincent, who was left alone, could maintain a certain distance. “I only know that Your Highness is heading in this direction, but we are getting further and further away from the Baltic Sea…”
"Cough." A choice lay before her: continue chasing the American bombers, or turn back to Berlin for safety? Gritting her teeth, she turned and headed north.
……
"All units receiving this communication, respond immediately! This is Lieutenant Iska Akula of the Eighth Princess's Guard. All air units receiving this order, please immediately converge on the airspace 70 kilometers west of Szczecin! Her Highness Elizabeth is in danger. Send troops to support her immediately! Repeat! Her Highness Elizabeth is in danger. This is not a drill!"
The urgent cries, carried by the radio waves, reached a broken windmill, with the already raging city of Stralsund to the north. The silhouette of the Superfortress still loomed faintly in the billowing smoke of the sky, and the Barracuda carrier-based aircraft that had previously sunk the missile destroyer were not idle either. Under the cover of Allied fighters, they staggered back laden with several 250-pound bombs, continuing to drop death upon the city and its inhabitants wherever they could find an opening.
“You’d better listen to this, General Trosa.” An officer ran out of the windmill and called to the general, who was still inspecting the wounded.