“It was so good today!”

"Yes, such a good weather, it would be great if we could lie on the beach and sleep. The abominable war has disturbed our peaceful life, so let it end soon!"

Next to a solid hard flight runway, two young officers in light gray flight suits and leather flight caps seemed to be sincerely praising the sunny weather. Like the busy and tense atmosphere at an airport, their expressions were not relaxed.

Unlike most Irish pilots, their armbands are not mainly made of eagles, but the outline of an aircraft carrier, which is the symbol of the Irish Navy Aviation Force.

"Gentlemen!"

The ground crew officer who had been standing next to the plane was holding a registration book the size of an ordinary book in one hand and a pen in the other. It seemed that he had just finished checking the last few strokes in the registration book.

"Your plane has no problem, good luck!"

"Thanks!"

The blonde and tall pilot smiled and nodded at the officer, climbing onto his landline with agility.

This is a land-based model of me-50, which is favored by Irish pilots for its outstanding maneuverability and a much enhanced firepower configuration for older biplanes.

After entering the cockpit, Ensign Martin Peterson quickly and skillfully inspected all the equipment. The reason why this Ensign, who had served in the Irish Naval Aviation Force for 6 years was largely due to his strong "aggressiveness": his hot temper and excellent flying fighting skills.

Not long after, the originally quiet airport gradually became noisy, and there were constant rumbling engines coming from near and far away. This battlefield airport, about 20 kilometers away from Dublin, hosted three air wings, which are larger in size among the front-line airports in eastern Ireland.

"The 17th HNA Squadron enters runway 4!"

A clear command sound came from the headphones, and Peterson slightly increased the grip of his hand to the joystick. After a while, the two groups of fighters in front slowly slid onto the runway driven by the propeller. When the signalman on the side waved the flag, the ground crew quickly removed the mattress under the wheel. After seeing the ground crew running away from the corner of his eyes, Peterson pressed down the accelerator with just the right force. The aircraft engine made a strong whine sound instantly, and the whole body trembled slightly, and rode forward slowly like a knight before sprinting.

Such a scene is no longer novel to Peterson, and on another runway nearby, the Irish Air Force's twin-engine bomber was also waiting to take off. Although there was no verbal stimulation, Peterson still felt that his blood was flowing faster. A war was always so tempting for soldiers who were eager for honor, or in other words, men were already full of combat factors, which may be why war and football were so popular on this planet.

"Saidfish 5 is all right, please take off!"

"Please take off!"

Peterson increased his horsepower again, and the entire cockpit was suddenly filled with noisy mechanical sounds. However, while the plane was gradually accelerating, he still heard the conversation between the wingman pilot and the podium from his headset:

"Saidfish No. 6 is all right, please take off!"

"Please take off!"

The inertial pressure of the propeller aircraft when it takes off is not great. The slight change is just a reminder for the pilots. After flying off the runway, the pilots usually fly to the airspace west of the airport as arranged in advance. At this time, the fighter jets and bombers that took off in advance should be hovering there.

Peterson looked back habitually and the wingman had followed. Although it was a fighter of the Navy Aviation Force, it sprayed almost the same paint as the Irish Air Force: the fuselage was yellow-green camouflage, so that the enemy could easily confuse them with the ground from high to low. The fuselage side and lower part were painted in light blue that was less conspicuous in the air, and the tactical numbers and clover logos were painted in sequence between the cockpit and the tail.

Five minutes later, Peterson's "Saidfish 5" was already in a V-shaped formation composed of 16 me-50 fighters, with several flight formations of similar or even larger sizes behind them.

Benefiting from the rigorous training and German-style precise calculations, the aerial assembly can be completed in a short time, and the fighter pilots do not need to consume their precious fuel here for nothing.

During the flight, two groups of aircraft that took off from other airports joined in one after another.

At the normal speed of the me-50 fighter, flying over the narrow St. George's Strait was a very relaxing thing, and the breeze seemed to be from God's care. According to the plan, advance air fighters and dive bombers would conduct centralized attacks on British airfields and air defense positions before they saw the British coastline.

Flying across the strait means entering the battlefield. The commanders of each squadron began to remind the pilots to concentrate through the team radio. War was originally a cruel battle for the brave to win when they met on a narrow road. The pilots from the Irish Navy Aviation Force had no doubts. The effect of the first wave of attack by their own air force is unknown, but the mission of escorting the bomber group to the British deep airport for bombing is never easy!

"Discover enemy planes ahead! Discover enemy planes ahead! Maintain defensive formation and maintain defensive formation!"

The sound again from the headphones was extremely calm. After assembly and adjustment during flight, the huge fleet quickly formed a dense ring defense. As soon as the battle began, the squadron's communication channel gradually became busy.

"Go to hell! Damn British!"

After a whole string of bullets was shot, Peterson couldn't help but swear. He clearly saw that his target had already pulled up black smoke. If he could catch up at this time and beat him hard, he believed that he would definitely shoot down the opponent. However, before this attack, they received the order to strictly protect the accompanying bomber. On this premise, all fighter jets were not allowed to leave the formation without authorization to pursue the enemy planes even if the opponent was injured.

Although he was unwilling to do so, Peterson could only speak swear words to express his dissatisfaction. At this time, he looked back at his comrades around him. In order to protect his own bombers, the fighters could not use their own speed and flexibility advantages, and the pilot's personal skills were also limited. In just a few minutes, their squadron seemed to have been shot down by three fighters. Fortunately, after repeated attacks and consumption by the coalition aviation forces, the British Air Force was no longer as fierce as the day before yesterday. There were less than twenty British fighters coming to intercept the Irish bomber group, otherwise they would definitely suffer greater losses.

Soon, a British airport with two flat runways appeared in the sight of Irish pilots. Before the Irish aircraft group could fly over the airport, clusters of black fireworks bloomed in front of their flight routes, and the dense explosions were heard.

Looking down from the sky, the grass-green ground was shining with yellow light and black dots.

"Oops!"

Feeling the landline suddenly slammed, Peterson's heart skipped a beat. This feeling was completely different from the bomber's bomb. It came from a powerful external force and was very likely to bring very terrible consequences. The facts verified Peterson's guess based on experience. After a strange sound of gurgling, the engine stopped. As the speed decreased, the propeller became clearly visible.

The most experienced pilot would not panic because of any accidents. Peterson tried several consecutive times to reactivate the engine, but it seemed that it was seriously damaged after being attacked by British ground fire, and the propeller finally stopped turning.

"This is Sailfish No. 5. I was hit and lost my power. I am ready to try a forced landing!" Peterson contacted his wingman through the radio. Fortunately, the radio equipment on the plane was operating normally, and the voice of the wingman pilot was soon heard from the headphones:

"Saidfish No. 6 has been received, I'll cover you!"

"No, there is no need!" Peterson shouted loudly. At this time, the situation could no longer allow him to deal with the communication. The m-50 aircraft head fell down to the ground. The altimeter's pointer flew counterclockwise like crazy. He held the joystick tightly, but could not change the state of the aircraft at all. An extra second of hesitation could have fatal consequences. After deciding to give up, he pushed the cabin hood hard. The moment he jumped out of the cabin, an unprecedented sense of loss surged from the bottom of his heart, and it was like a glass of bitter wine quickly filling every part of his body.

Lost did not help solve the problem. Peterson pulled out the parachute bag. The instant lift made him feel that his arm was almost dislocated, but soon he had the opportunity to look at the entire battlefield in a brand new environment. The British anti-aircraft gun positions were irregularly distributed around the airport runway, and dense artillery fire was unremittingly firing into the air.

A large formation of more than a hundred Irish aircraft looked like a cloud from a distance, and a little closer looked like a large group of black crows. When they flew over the airport, strings of black bombs fell in sharp screams, and the moment they landed, it burst out with amazing momentum, as if they were about to erase everything on the ground.

Although unfortunately being shot down by British ground artillery fire, Peterson still felt a sense of victory as his crew bombed the British airport. If the war continued like this, he believed that the Allies* team would definitely win. Even if they were captured by the British, he would be able to return to his motherland and stay in Europe soon. Prisoners of war were not shameful, especially the pilots who were shot down on the enemy's homeland. However, when several large-caliber machine gun bullets were from a very close range.

Before passing by, the special sob sound still made Peterson sweat on his back. He would rather be killed in the fire than be shot dead by an unknown enemy without any fighting back. Fortunately, his luck was not over yet. Before he landed on a vegetable field, no bullet favored his body or his parachute. The soft soil almost sprained his feet, but after trying hard to cut the rope on his body, he temporarily gained freedom.

Bang...bang...bang...

The crisp gunshot sounded not far away, and a few rifle bullets passed by dangerously not far above his head. Peterson quickly lay on the ground. He stretched out his right hand to find his imitation Browning pistol from his waist holster. But when he saw the entire British soldiers in khaki uniforms at the end of the field and the empty terrain around him, he decided to give up his fearless resistance.
Chapter completed!