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That's right, not on that lush yet infuriating green glass, but on the Skyship's genuine steel hull—a fiery cloud accompanied by billowing black smoke burned on its flight deck, which was right below the bridge.
Chasing after the flying debris, it was obvious without even a close look that it wasn't KMF's arms or legs. Donald's Mustang, painted with a white duck on a sailor suit, was plummeting into the sky, trailing black smoke.
……
"Notify all Sky Fleet personnel! Notify all personnel! An emergency has occurred aboard the Roblus. Halt all further attack operations and maintain stationary defensive formation. Repeat, maintain stationary defensive formation!"
The three Calian-class ships hurriedly shoved their shields all over themselves, and only breathed a sigh of relief after Easy's Mustang swooped down from the sky and swept across the hull, disappearing twice into the northern sky.
The Robles' troubles were neither major nor minor.
The Mustang fighter jet that crashed onto the deck shattered into countless burning fragments, which were carried by the airflow towards the stern of the deck—the location of the Calian-class hangar, which was situated right in a concave vent.
The damage control crew was at a loss. Closing the hatches meant letting the aircraft debris splatter around in the drafty vent, and the damage from a collision could be incalculable if an emergency acceleration was needed.
If the hatch is opened to extinguish the fire, the evaporating aviation gasoline and toxic black smoke will all rush into the hangar at once, and the Skyship can't just be stopped whenever it wants.
Left with no other option, the captain of the USS Robles urgently ordered "damage control avoidance"—the other two Skyships were to move to higher ground to avoid a collision, while his own ship, with all crew members holding on tightly, tilted to allow as much aircraft debris as possible to fall off the deck.
Once the Robles came to a stop in the air, the crew prepared to begin repairs. Good heavens, as soon as they opened the hangar door, the Mustang's propeller got stuck in the gap of the door and fell onto the deck with a thud.
……
"Zulu-9 received. This is Fighter Squadron 52 from the USS Midway. How can we help?"
Easy headed north and found the carrier battle group's hastily taking off aircraft. He decided to guide them in the next attack himself—he had come up with a brilliant idea.
Following his advice, most of the pandas carrying rockets flew away at low altitude, while the remaining naval fighters, guided by Easy, caught up with the sky fleet.
The Roblus had retreated to a lower altitude, forming a ladder-like arrangement with the Glass and Archivk. The Skyships were also busy with their primary task—activating the hangars to provide logistical support for the aviation KMFs that needed resupply and repair.
The escorting aircraft were still on duty, and as soon as they saw the new swarm of dark blue pests in the sky, they immediately got up and went to intercept them.
This time, the pandas weren't as impatient as the Mustang and Thunder had been. They calmly engaged in aerial combat. Easy's Mustang broke away and headed down. Following his instructions, the four pandas followed suit, diving down ten seconds after the former.
Easy was heading straight for the Robles—in the vast sky, it was easy to spot a large, dark fish on the deck. Following the route he had envisioned in his mind, the route Donald's plane had crashed into, he swooped down and strafed the Robles' deck.
The crew reacted quickly; before many bullets from Easy had even hit the deck, the shield control team had deployed the barriers in the appropriate positions. By the time the pandas who followed Easy down and dropped their bombs, the barriers were already strong enough to withstand such a deadly attack.
The naval pilots sounded somewhat reproachful, but Easy was completely satisfied—after the black smoke from the rocket bombardment dissipated, the machine gun bullet holes he left on the deck shone as preciously as gold dust in a river.
……
Easy's sudden inspiration saved many lives—not from the heavens, of course.
The pandas swarmed out a large group, which joined together with the TBF torpedo bombers that later took off from the second Midway-class ship, and headed ahead to the airspace over Hamburg.
The British Army and Royal Marines were engaged in a bloodbath with the enemy on the north bank of the Elbe River.
Even the elderly who have lived and died in Hamburg all their lives cannot recognize where the railway from Hamburg to the north leads—the two armies, totaling hundreds of thousands of men, are still fighting for every inch of this wasteland created by World War II.
As soon as the Imperial Army advanced along the railway, the British Army created explosions to disrupt them; as soon as the Imperial Army suppressed them with artillery fire, the British Army retaliated with a barrage of fire; as soon as the Imperial Army sent helicopters to storm the bridgehead, the Bosideng anti-aircraft guns at both ends of the bridge went crazy to stop them.
The urban areas along both sides of the railway have been reduced to ashes, with mechanical legs filled with the sounds of electric motors and heavy-duty wheels reeking of gasoline rolling across this chaotic land.
All around were the steel and fragments beneath the scorched earth and the sounds of artillery fire, making it impossible to tell where they came from—were the armored vehicles of both sides completely destroyed, or the steel plates of railway freight cars disintegrated; were the railway sleepers and coke of yesteryear turned to one color, or were the last traces left by the flesh and blood of the soldiers of both armies in the sea of fire?
The battle continued even in this dark and infernal place. Leaning against the remains of the Comet tank, the 6-pounder anti-tank gun was still firing from its ambush position amidst the rubble. KMF parried the fire while standing on the shattered corpses scattered on the ground. The vast city of Hamburg resembled a crematorium forged from molten iron.
The Seafire fighters of the USS Victory took off from the equally chaotic sky and rushed back to the carrier deck at sea, followed closely by the Pandas and TBFs. Bombs and rockets were dropped rapidly and haphazardly from the sky and fell to the ground one after another. Even if the city streets were left with only a bowl of ashes, they would be burned to their last trace in this hysterical bombardment.
The Union Jack, stained with blood and ash, still flies over the scorching bricks of the Hamburg Art Museum—on the lion and cobra emblem buried underground, amidst the vortex of the deep blue eagle and the flames of the explosion, and on iron conical hats and berets still stained with warm blood, like a pine tree that stands unyielding to the wind and snow on a freezing winter night.
Chapter 321, Section 410: The Key to Hamburg
[022 Friendly Reminder: Recent chapters can be enjoyed while listening to the Call of Duty 8 soundtrack "Hamburg Invasion"]
Being trapped on a complex and intertwined battlefield is more deadly than being trapped on a frigid mountain peak—especially for parachuting pilots.
When the B-17 Flying Fortress first appeared in great force over the Lion and Serpent flag over Berlin, it was undoubtedly an overwhelming gift to the earliest visitors from another world.
But the pilots, who were the ones giving the gifts, didn't see it that way. A long time later—Berlin became a no-fly zone for all of Europe—the bombers had to worry about their safety when launching attacks with the Mustang and Thunderbolts facing limited escort. Sometimes they didn't even have any escort at all, relying entirely on the Flying Fortresses' own defensive firepower.
The enemy has reached the outskirts of Hamburg, using carpet bombing to disrupt the Britannian army's advance and the rear lines supporting the front-line troops.
The pressure and losses this brings to the pilots are undoubtedly enormous, but it is a helpless move in the current siege of Hamburg. Therefore, those who share the same hatred under the North Atlantic Strategic Defense Alliance need to get through this most difficult time.
Their fate after parachuting depends on the guys on the ground.
The British army was on the northern front in Hamburg, while the main force on the southern front was the American army. Ike had already deployed all the troops he could to this side—including the 1st Red Division, which was usually on the front lines.
On the one hand, it was necessary to prevent the enemy from penetrating deep into Hamburg, and on the other hand, it was necessary to protect the highway network from Hamburg to Bremen—the latter being not only Hamburg's last land connection with Western Europe at present, but also containing Wilhelmshaven, Bremerhaven, and Cuxhaven to its northwest, as well as Germany's three major river estuaries and bays adjacent to the North Sea. It was unimaginable what the consequences would be if it were handed over to Britannia.
Every soldier holding a gun, even every tire that can still run, is incredibly important to these American soldiers on the front lines, and their tasks are incredibly demanding.
After running out of heavy weapons, Jonathan's infantry company had to retreat to their positions, and other units took over the defense. However, this did not mean that the exhausted soldiers could get a proper rest.
Everyone gets called upon to lend a hand when needed. Carl and Tommy stayed on the flank of an anti-tank position with most of the surviving soldiers, while he and Pat were in charge of a jeep, delivering ammunition to various positions or evacuating the wounded to the rear.
This is the deadly part, because the wounded are not only evacuated from the artillery-covered positions, but when a mournful cry is heard in the sky and a wrecked aerial fortress falls from the killing sky, the soldiers have to keep an eye out for people wrapped in parachutes in the corner of the sky seeking help.
There wasn't a single grove of trees along the highway that the soldiers hadn't climbed and cut down, simply because if they hadn't, the pilots caught on the parachute lines would have been strangled to death in no time.
Even so, this was a fate many of the fallen "flying cowboys" could not bear. Parachutes alone could not rescue the erratically plummeting bomber pilots from the cockpit. When they crashed to the ground with their planes, these leather-jacketed angels, once the dashing figures in the eyes of soldiers with guns and helmets, were no different from the debris except that they needed to be carried away separately on stretchers and in body bags.
Unlike two years ago when soldiers would eagerly put down their Coke bottles and rush forward when they saw parachutes, today the soldiers had to dump everything they had sorted out from the plane wreckage onto the trucks that had been responsible for transporting drinks and chocolates.
……
The 32nd Armored Regiment passed by Jonathan and his men on the road next to them, and the sergeant went to greet them—if the Super Pershing hadn't stopped, the soldiers would have at most given this rarely seen strange vehicle a second glance.
“I’m Captain Sheffield.” The train conductor jumped down and asked Jonathan for directions. “We’re going to retake Buchholz train station soon. Could you please put down another sign here, buddy?”
"It's nothing, brother. But I've heard those extraterrestrial visitors there are no pushovers. Good luck."
"Thanks." Sheffield glanced at the corner behind the soldiers, not even seeing an empty glass bottle, and could only turn back and gesture with his eyes to the hungry faces on the turret—Go back inside, Ramirez, no one's going to survive, let alone drink.
“Oh right, there’s one more thing.” The captain was about to enter the hatch but then turned back, remembering the number 1 on Jonathan’s arm. “I heard that a special tank unit might be coming over in a few days to hold off the Handroh direction with your First Red Division.”
"Special? What do you mean, buddy?"
"You need to prepare a foreign language book, or you hope they are fluent in English, so..."
Sheffield shrugged, about to give the order to set off, when he heard a familiar yet ominous jet engine sound from the sky.
"Another damn air raid?!" The soldiers who were cleaning up the planes immediately dropped to the ground with their rifles, and the Pershing fighters on the highway also hurriedly drove off the road.
"I guess you won't be able to get to the train station, Captain!" Jonathan saw this and leaped onto the Super Pershing in three quick steps, leaning against the M2 heavy machine gun on the turret. "I haven't seen these birds dare to bomb the west lately. Doing this probably means they're about to attack again."
"Damn it, now not only our regiment, but our entire 3rd Armored Division has to change its plans." Sheffield looked at the Britannian jet fighters in the sky, the rockets spraying out making him grit his teeth. "We've been waiting for air cover for so long and we still haven't received it... Oh, it looks like it's here?"
As they spoke, a group of figures appeared belatedly in the distance, behind two or three smoking tanks and half-tracks. About thirty P-63 fighter planes swooped down, their wings painted with the blue round eyes representing the French Air Force, looking somewhat dazed as if they had just woken up from a coma.
The sky gradually became lively, seemingly a planned ambush—more KMFs were coming to join the battle, but more elderly yet vigorous figures also arrived from the western sky.
A squadron of P-40s, their wings painted with red, white, and blue triangular circles with gold centers; a squadron of Hurricanes, their tails adorned with a black-eyed, gold-colored eye similar to that of the French Air Force—these sounds, originating from Amsterdam and Brussels respectively, once echoed over the English Channel.
As more and more KMFs were shot down to the ground, Jonathan, Sheffield, and the other ground troops breathed a sigh of relief—who would worry that those pilots who had lost their country would lose the courage to pick up a weapon again?
……
As Hamburg became increasingly unsafe, Eisenhower and Montgomery temporarily moved the command center to Cuxhaven.
“What did General de Gaulle say again?” Doolittle followed the two, pointing on a map of Europe. “Oh right, he’s taken care of other things for us. We just need to make some arrangements to clear out two field airfields near Münster. It would be better to set up the vanguard bases of the French Air Force, the Royal Dutch Air Force, and the Belgian Army Air Force there.”
"The air force is sorted out, but what about the ground?" Montgomery asked, his forehead covered in sweat. "I'd rather the French have so many tanks that they break the bridges over the Rhine. If they send too few, they'll end up like the 7th Panzer Division."
“These things can’t be rushed, can’t be rushed.” Ike stopped him. “We’ll help provide as many M4s as we have. Besides, the French aren’t idle. I’ve calculated that if we gather all the German vehicles owned by these Western European countries and maintain them, it will take at least until early June.”
"I must say, it was incredibly prescient of us to decide to bring in the original German soldiers right from the day the North Union was founded." Doolittle nodded in agreement. "Think about those half-track vehicles that play with each other on the same chassis; if the French were to maintain them, they would probably need several months of training first."
Yes, right as they were talking, in the factories inside and outside Cuxhaven, soldiers who had once worn the uniforms of the German Wehrmacht were busy replacing parts on twenty or thirty rusty StuG III assault guns and half-tracks.
"Alright, now I just hope Field Marshal Cunningham doesn't bring us any bad news." Ike spread his hands. "That's all we can do right now. It would be bad if something happened to the carrier groups covering Hamburg on both sides."
"Indeed, and it would be even worse if only the Royal Navy were involved."
Eisenhower understood the meaning behind Montgomery's words.
“I assure you, Monty, not only Nimitz sitting in the Pentagon, but even the giraffes on the Ethiopian plateau know how urgent Hamburg is right now.”
……
The giraffe obviously doesn't understand English, and naturally wouldn't sneeze after Eisenhower mentioned it from afar.
They would only stretch their necks and gnaw on the leaves, paying no attention to the Gulf of Aden in the distance, let alone the ships that had recently flocked in from the Arabian Sea and were now coming in droves from the Pacific Ocean.
They crossed the Bab el-Mandeb Strait and reached the southern end of the Suez Canal. This vital sea route, which the British army had sworn to defend during the North African campaign, still flows intact between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, with the three-star crescent flag, subject to the British Empire, still flying on both banks.
Just as the sea routes connected before the World Wars, today a large convoy of ships flying the Stars and Stripes is piled up outside the harbor of Suez City. Battleships Nevada, Pennsylvania, and Arkansas, fully loaded with U.S. Marines, are being guided into the Mediterranean by four smaller convoys heading towards Southern Europe.
Similar to the former, warships temporarily used for troop transport and ordinary cargo ships were also awaiting passage orders from canal dispatchers.
Only in the distant Suez City harbor, a warship with its deck flattened and an oil tanker were quietly moored under the hook and next to the oil pump truck.
Allied officers and soldiers had seen this escort carrier in the Atlantic before—the lead ship of the Bogue-class, the USS Bogue. They had only seen it fully loaded with anti-submarine aircraft before. The behemoth being hoisted off her deck today was something they had never even seen in the hangar of a fleet carrier.
Painted entirely in dark blue, with two massive three-bladed propellers embedded in its wings, and at the base of the wings and below the nose, respectively, four 20mm cannons and four 12.7mm heavy machine guns. Beside the USS Bogue, the escort carrier USS Long Island, also responsible for transporting these Sky Tigers, was slowly entering the harbor to unload its cargo.
The fuel from the planes and tankers was transported to a makeshift airfield near Suez—the commander of the transport fleet and the Suez commander had received Nimitz's request a few hours earlier to expedite the delivery of troops to Europe while simultaneously getting the aircraft in the fleet to the front-line airfields as soon as possible.
The meaning was clear, and the execution was simple. As aviation fuel filled the engines, F7F Tigercat fighter jets lined up in formation at the airfield, their propellers, glistening with Pacific rain, began to spin, echoing across the African landscape, preparing for takeoff and heading north.
"The 513th Marine Air Force plans as follows: after resupplying in Crete and Florence, to land at Hanover Field Airfield by 18 PM German time. Now, take off! Save Hamburg!"
Chapter 322, Section 411: The Celebration of the Air Disaster
"Of course I understand that if these two carrier task forces return to the North Sea, the support for Hamburg will certainly be more efficient. But in that case, only the Danish lads' planes and torpedo boats will be left in the Baltic Sea. Judging from the transport ships that the Red Navy submarines have spotted off the German coast, it's not impossible that the young girl is planning a lightning landing in Northern Europe."
"Even the most decisive force on the battlefield must be placed in the most suitable position to maximize its strategic threat." Under Field Admiral Cunningham's repeated insistence, the carrier battle group, including two Midway-class and two Illustrious-class carriers, ultimately remained in the straits between Denmark and Sweden.
In the eyes of Eisenhower and Montgomery, this was undoubtedly bad news for the HMS Victory, which was left out in the open sea west of Hamburg to support the land-based carriers—despite the presence of the HMS Colossus and HMS Perseus on the bench, as well as four destroyers coming to its aid.
The enemy has already discovered the Victory's existence and may even have determined its approximate location. Once they launch a fierce attack and severely damage the Victory, Britannia's last external concern about swallowing up the northern part of Hamburg will be eliminated.
Left with no other choice, she had to retreat to a place 50 kilometers away from the coastline. On the way, a detachment was urgently arranged to take on the tasks of maritime surveillance and air defense. The flagship of the detachment was HMS Vanguard, which had been commissioned just over a week ago and was the only high-speed battleship in the Royal Navy in the North Sea at present.
"Now we can only hope that the little girl named Elizabeth doesn't have a penchant for picking on the weak."
Ike and Doolittle couldn't sleep at all during their stay in Cooks Harbor. They would get up from their desks every now and then to ask about the radar station and communications room, worrying about the arrival of enemy aircraft and even more afraid of hearing news of the enemy launching a spaceship attack.
The two generals, along with Field Marshal Montgomery, spent almost as much time gazing at the sea and worrying as they did looking at the map.
However, the alarms still echoed over the Elbe estuary.
……
"Battleship Vanguard reporting to the entire West German theater! Enemy aircraft are advancing westward from the north of Hamburg! Repeat! Enemy aircraft are heading west towards the area where HMS Victory is located! Number exceeds 150! Requesting air support!"
A radio call with a clear code struck the skies over the North Sea like a bolt from the blue. The Vanguard and its only five destroyers formed an anti-aircraft formation in near desperation, hastily warning the Victory to speed away into the deeper western sea.
Squeezing the weak may truly be a long-suppressed desire of our enemies, and those who do so are unlike fish that take the bait—that's what makes them even more terrifying.
Surrounded by destroyers, the Vanguard sailed towards the southern coast, away from the Victory. Meanwhile, the KMFs in the air showed no interest in the massive battleship hull, except for sending a group to suppress the anti-aircraft fire on both sides of the warship.
Oh no! Britannia is desperate to settle scores with the Victory. What's going on? The entire Northern Command is like a small boat being tossed about by the sudden storm in the North Sea.
The contingency plan, which had only been finalized not long ago, was put to use so quickly. Doolittle immediately contacted the British and American air force bases in Bremen, and considering the extreme urgency of the situation, he also summoned all the pilots from the French Air Force, the Royal Netherlands Air Force, and Belgium, who had just had lunch in Münster that day.
In an instant, the sea area where HMS Victory was located was like a pulsating heartbeat, affecting the entire heart of Western Europe and even the island of Great Britain. The Royal Air Force Fighter Command was shocked by such a strong reaction and was now busy dispatching squadrons from the mainland to carry out an emergency relief route of "take-off from the British Isles - support HMS Victory - land at a German airport".
All of these actions were necessary. Britannia couldn't possibly launch just one attack wave, especially since radar stations near Hamburg seemed to have detected airships approaching to the west...
……
HMS Victory, nestled between the Colossus and Perseus, was struggling to maintain contact with the anti-aircraft fire of the nearby destroyers, swaying like a small boat hastily crossing a river on a stormy night before a swarm of aircraft attacking like a downpour.
KMF machine guns fired at the anti-aircraft gun positions on the sides, while jet rockets slammed into the aircraft carrier elevators. Enemy planes were constantly being shot down, and the decks of the three aircraft carriers were ravaged.
The Seafire and Barracuda, which hadn't even had a chance to take off before, were all blasted into fragments flying all over the deck. The Perseus was about to have to turn back to Scapa Flow, and the Victory was shrouded in black smoke. As an armored aircraft carrier, the Illustrious-class could have remained afloat under such intense attacks, but it couldn't protect every sailor who died in a final burst of energy after being strafed from the air.
……
Far away in the Kattegat Strait, Field Marshal Cunningham was still concerned about the safety of the Royal Navy, and he had long ago issued the order for a full-deck attack. The Formidable, Unyielding, and Unicorn ships had already taken off and gone far away.
He was now on the formidable deck, anxiously watching the US Navy aircraft carrier Franklin Roosevelt's planes take off not far away. All the anxious British and American sailors in this area had their eyes fixed on the chaotic USS Midway.
As if things weren't bad enough, just when the entire fleet should have been on a high alert and ready to launch an attack, the USS Midway suddenly suffered a mechanical failure, with two of its three elevators shutting down at once. This caused great anxiety among the ship's pilots and the Panda fighter jets crammed into the hangar with their rockets already mounted.
Not being on the Midway, no outsider could be sure what the problem was—Cunningham's previous response was that the Midway was dealing with newly delivered Timm rockets to its armory.