"V-shaped formation? I think I've heard of that, isn't it a bit inflexible?"
With his experience in the Air Force, Logan's stereotypical rookie image had finally changed, and this time he actually gave the correct answer: in the doctrine of the Royal Air Force, the V-shaped formation formed by three aircraft is the most basic tactical formation. In actual combat, a squadron of 6 aircraft or a wing of 12 aircraft often forms a larger V-shaped formation. The biggest characteristic of this tactical mode is that it can leverage the firepower advantage of the team, but its biggest flaw has been proven on the French battlefield, namely, its ornamental nature far outweighs its practicality. Once the formation is broken up by fast-approaching German fighters, or the lead aircraft is shot down, the wingmen and solo aircraft will be mercilessly slaughtered by the enemy's skilled two-plane tactics!
With the lessons from the French campaign, why didn't the Royal Air Force correct this flashy but impractical tactic during the two-month interlude? The reason is simple: first, the long-standing doctrinal thinking, and second, Sir Dowding preserved valuable fighters for the Royal Air Force, but also deprived most pilots of the opportunity for real combat training.
"It's indeed rigid! Looks like... Squadron Leader Garland will have quite a harvest today!"
Carl Schultz, who joined the conversation, seemed to have a hint of sourness in his tone, and it was not surprising. As the commander of the advance paratrooper unit for capturing Newport Airfield, he had drifted to a small town nearly 2 miles away, almost getting beaten up by the local British farmers. By the time some of his paratroopers arrived at Newport Airfield, the earlier landing units had suffered heavy losses in front of the British fortifications. If it weren't for Logan's airborne unit arriving in time, they would have no chance of independently capturing the airfield!
"This is good news for us!" Steinfelberg's tone was calm. Just as he spoke, a plane in the distance trailed thick smoke and plummeted downwards, accompanied by the heavy drone of its engine.
The pilot couldn't bail out.
Logan opened his mouth, and another plane tumbled rapidly downward, one side of its wing obviously broken into two sections. This time, several black dots promptly left the aircraft, and moments later, the sky blossomed with an equal number of white parachutes.
Looking up at the sky kilometers above, a group of toy-sized aircraft was chasing each other, sometimes sharply turning sideways, sometimes tumbling continuously, or suddenly raising their noses and climbing rapidly. The flashes of gunfire from machine guns or cannons were hard to discern without careful observation. As for the ears, they were already filled with the increasingly approaching roar!
In just two minutes, the previously indistinguishable British bombers were now recognizable, and Logan could even see the pilots' skin colors. The rapidly rotating propellers and the slowly opening bomb bay doors on the underside of the aircraft were self-explanatory...
The long-awaited anti-aircraft gunfire finally reverberated through the air, and high-speed shells whizzed overhead. The sun was shining brightly, but the sky was filled with blossoming black clouds.
But what fell wasn't raindrops.
Black bombs screamed as they fell from several hundred meters high, and if Logan had just passed by, he would probably be in a state of panic and helplessness. But now, he knew to quickly run with his colleagues towards the British-built air raid shelters: a reinforced concrete trench was located under the airport tower, and ten meters east or west of it were safe underground shelters. They were connected to some large pillboxes around the runway via narrow underground passages. In the battle for the airfield, the remaining British soldiers tried to resist using these fortifications, but with two grenades thrown down by German paratroopers, they obediently raised their hands!
These aerial bombs were much more powerful than grenades but didn't understand the "trenching tactics." Just as Logan and his companions entered the shelter, the ground trembled under the deafening explosions!
"I hope they'll be okay!"
Logan suddenly remembered the Göring Regiment soldiers manning the anti-aircraft guns outside. Fortunately, there was an observation hole in this shelter. After another paratrooper officer made room for him, he was able to watch this awe-inspiring war drama with his own eyes.
As expected, the last Ju-52 to take off hadn't flown far before being shot down by the warplanes—the speed of these light bombers reached 414 kilometers per hour, one and a half times that of the "Auntie Junkers," and with two machine guns, one front and one rear, mounted on board, the one on the right wing was directly operated by the pilot, barely reaching the level of World War I-era fighters when dealing with general aerial targets!
Just as the two Ju-52s that took off earlier left the airport area, several "Warplanes" directly pursued them after dropping bombs. Perhaps the initial intention of the British pilots was just to vent their anger and enjoy the thrill of beating a fallen opponent, but the exciting scene ended here. The airport seemed to have been engulfed by rising flames and ubiquitous smoke. Even the observation hole in front of Logan was obscured by rolling smoke... In the shelter, the paratroopers had closed the iron door used to block smoke and dust, and the pungent smell seeped in from the front, so Logan had to close the iron plate on the observation window, leaving only a dim, occasionally flickering electric light in his own world.
The communications officer had been shaking the just-established phone line, but it seemed that the line was not connected. No matter how he called, there was no response at all, but his anxious voice was irritating to listen to.
Are you scared? Are you trembling? Are you hiding?
Logan was suddenly startled by his own question. When the enemy's air raids were raging, he was sheltered in this dark and somewhat damp shelter. Was this the privilege of a commander or the cowardice of a superior? When he led the raid on the British Expeditionary Force headquarters and stormed into the British radar station, he always led the charge, fearless of life and death, like an ignorant daredevil who thought he was invincible. But isn't this fearlessness in the face of difficulties and dangers the essence of a soldier's soul?
He wasn't a reckless daredevil, but he couldn't achieve the astonishing victories of "Night of Fortress No. 32" and "Hardship of Calfdanton Cove"!
"Carl, you stay here. If something happens, the troops will be commanded by..."
Logan's words were cut off mercilessly by Schultz, "Where you go, I go! I won't watch my brothers fight alone!"
Normally, Logan would probably tease him as a tag-along, but in this situation, he just gave him a light punch on the chest, "Good brother!"
Good brothers aren't cultivated at the wine table or flattered into existence; the more they face life and death together, the more they can forge a friendship like gold!
Comrades and colleagues, the difference is far more than just in name!
In life, how many true non-blood-related brothers can one have?