"Forward! British carrier formation spotted, I repeat, British carrier formation spotted on the sea ahead, covering bomber attack!"
"Captain, I think there's something northeast... it's a British aircraft group!"
"My word, it seems to be all fighters, over 40 of them!"
"God, look up high, northeast! There are more British planes there!"
"Damn it, those are also British fighters! There's at least 30 of them! Where did they find so many fighters?"
"Guys, are those Hurricanes or Spitfires?"
"Oh my, what I see is two whole squadrons of Spitfires? Weren't they all wiped out by us in southern England? No typos."
"Attention all! Quiet! I am Captain Hawk. Maintain formation, no matter where those British fighters come from, we must do our best to repel them and cover our bombers for the attack! Now, follow me!"
"Damn, really damn! Those are all Spitfires! God help us!"
"God help us! Brothers, fight!"
"Let me give them a taste... (faint sound of machine gun roaring)... missed? Damn it!"
"Ha ha, I hit one! Die, you British bastards... Hey, want to chase me? Watch me..."
"Oh no, I'm targeted, Hank! Hank! Cover me!"
"God, there are too many of them, where did so many Spitfires come from! Oh! I see Hurricanes, those Hurricanes should be easier to handle... Ah! I'm hit, damn it! Prepare to bail out!"
"Kyle! Kyle! Watch your back! Oh God, your tail... it's shot to pieces!"
"Captain, help me, I'm being chased by a Spitfire... Ah, damn it! My left engine... Goodbye, brothers..."
In the airspace south of the Irish Sea, the internal communication frequency of the 1st Squadron, 1st Squadron, 2nd Destroyer Aviation Joint Unit of the German Air Force, was chaotic for less than a moment. But this situation lasted for less than a moment. With the last bf-110c heavy fighter plunging into the sea, this squadron, which had performed reasonably well in the early stages of the Battle of Britain, encountered a total annihilation. Among the 28 pilots, 7 were killed on the spot, 2 failed to parachute, and of the 19 who eventually successfully parachuted, only 10 survived until the British patrol boats arrived...
For the confident German Air Force, for the ambitious Hans Rogan, the unexpected nightmare had just begun!
Facing the sudden onslaught of a large number of British Hurricanes and Spitfire fighters from the direction of Scotland, the 53 bf-110s belonging to the 1st and 2nd Destroyer Aviation Joint Units bravely stood in front of their own bombers. However, in head-on combat, the agility of these twin-engine heavy fighters was too deadly compared to the British fighters. The fearless spirit of the German pilots was crushed by the experienced British pilots. At the cost of only 9 fighters, the British fighter group easily crossed the German aerial blockade. At this moment, more than 60 ju-88 and he-111 bombers of the German Air Force had just begun to attack the three British aircraft carriers sailing at full speed to the north. At this moment, they looked like fat bait fish. With a bite, they would be firmly hooked by the barbed hooks...
After unsuccessful repairs by ground personnel, Lieutenant William von Borning's communicator was sometimes good and sometimes bad, and its communication distance was originally limited. When the flying fleet was already visible in the sky, only intermittent sounds came through the earphones.
"Damn it! My fuel tank was hit, and the fuel gauge is dropping rapidly..."
"Who can help me! Damn it!"
"Retreat, retreat! The fighter force has collapsed!"
Listening to these voices, William and his peasant brother Kamol remained silent. A few minutes ago, no one had expected such a situation—they had originally planned that after their own large fleet passed, they might still leave one or two British carrier aircraft for themselves. However, the fleeing aircraft in their sight were the German Junkers 88s and Heinkel 111s!
"Oh my God!"
Several thousand meters away, William watched helplessly as a Spitfire shot down a Ju-88 with fierce firepower. Although the machine guns on the bomber fought back vigorously, they were ineffective against the agile British fighters. In a moment, the engine on the left wing of the bomber caught fire and burned, and in the blink of an eye, it exploded, wing broken, falling!
William didn't even have time to pay attention to whether the German crew members on the bomber had parachuted in time. He saw a Spitfire coming fiercely, and he gritted his teeth and rushed up.
As old rivals, the British pilots naturally knew that the bf110 had strong frontal firepower, so they didn't engage in head-on combat with it. Instead, the gray-and-white-painted Spitfire wings swayed, making a big turn, causing William's first short shot to miss completely!
Although there was no convincing reason, William still obeyed his partner's words—this even surprised himself.
As the twin-engine fighter just made a left turn, several bright spots flew past the right edge of its wing.
"Climb, keep climbing!" Kamol shouted.
"Aren't you going to take it down?"
William asked angrily as he pulled the control stick.
Kapoor ignored him for about three or four seconds, then shouted, "Turn left! Left!"
William reflexively shook the control stick, and this time, the clumsy twin-engine fighter narrowly avoided the bullets coming from behind.
"Okay, steady..." Kapoor's voice was unexpectedly calm. After a moment, the rear machine gun suddenly roared—until the drum containing 75 rounds of bullets was completely empty, it quieted down.
Kapoor remained silent, which worried William a lot. He turned his head laboriously. "Hey, buddy, what's wrong? Say something! Buddy!"
"I shot it down!" Kapoor said flatly, then decisively took out a new drum from the cockpit.
"What?" William couldn't believe it. He turned the plane sideways and indeed saw a gray-and-white aircraft plunging towards the sea...
"I hit its cockpit, the pilot is probably dead!" Kapoor's words were cold, like those of an assassin.
"Oh my God!" William shook his head, feeling that it was indeed a crazy day!
Even crazier was that because this bf-110 entered the battlefield more than twenty minutes later than its companions, the ammunition and fuel of the British land-based fighters were almost depleted. So, when the remaining twenty or so German bombers fled in panic, they didn't pursue them. Instead, they returned to the east-northeast in a loose formation.
Driven by two 1100-horsepower Daimler-Benz engines, the bf-110's absolute speed far exceeded that of the British Hurricanes (590 kilometers per hour versus 511 kilometers per hour; the Spitfire was 650 kilometers per hour)! William and his fighter were like a lone knight, fearlessly charging into the enemy formation, just achieving the largest and easiest victory since the outbreak of the Battle of Britain. The spirits of the British pilots also relaxed a bit, only to be repeatedly ambushed by this unknown German young pilot—four machine guns in the nose of the bf110 fired twice and hit twice, sacrificing a Hurricane and a Spitfire to its concentrated firepower!
Seeing their falling comrades, the other British pilots finally came to their senses. Three Spitfires immediately made a big turn in the air. At this moment, they all looked at this daring German fighter with surprise and disdain—even a tiger must be wary when facing a pack of wolves!
"William, dive! Dive quickly!" Kapoor's shout made the young lieutenant, who had just been hot-headed, shudder. It was already difficult to handle one-on-one, let alone deal with three Spitfires by themselves. He quickly pushed the control stick down, and amidst the heavy roar of the engines, the plane plunged towards the sea at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, its speed exceeding the limit when flying level.
"Fly south!" Kapoor reminded.
"I know!" William finally showed his normal dissatisfaction with his partner's "command." As the fighter flew south at full speed, barely 200 meters above sea level, they could see the three British aircraft carriers on the sea—except for the one trailing behind with smoke billowing from its deck, the other two were unharmed.
Seeing that the British fighters did not chase them, the young and arrogant William turned back, while the cautious Kapoor tried to stop him:
"William, no, we should report the situation here to the superiors!"
"The returning bombers will communicate with the rear by radio! We may never have such an opportunity again!" The lieutenant resolutely refused his partner's persuasion.
"But..." Kapoor hesitated for a moment, then said, "You can't swim!"
William laughed, even though no one saw his smile, it was brighter than the sun: "Some knights will never learn to swim because they are destined to be warriors who live on horseback! If we choose to leave in cowardice today, then tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, perhaps until the day we grow old, we will feel ashamed and regretful! Come on, buddy, let's fight together for the honor of Germany! For our honor!"
After a moment of silence, Kapoor finally rallied: "Alright, buddy, let's fight this final battle together! For our honor!"