Chapter 263: The Bombing

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If Germany’s blitzkrieg was the vanguard of the war, then the German Air Force was this vanguard’s most powerful weapon. The fact that Germany’s tanks could sweep the battlefield and its paratroopers could roam behind enemy lines was all because Germany possessed the most powerful air force in the world.

And within the air force, the units responsible for carrying out ground support missions were all called bomber units. Because they were equipped with the terrifying Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber and the Do-217 medium-range bomber, these units could be said to be the most powerful weapons of war in the German Air Force.

Therefore, these German bomber pilots were very fond of their work. They even liked it when others called them devils, because they destroyed cities and killed lives. To put it fairly, they were capable of every kind of evil.

And now, they had been ordered to take off from their airfields, to fly over high mountains and great rivers, to form up in the blue sky and white clouds, and, accompanied by the roar of their engines, to gather in a dense swarm, blotting out the sun like a plague of locusts, and to fly toward their new target, the Dutch capital of Rotterdam.

The Do-217 bomber already seemed very advanced for this era. Its 17-meter-long fuselage was slender and streamlined, and its wingspan was an astonishing 19 meters wide. The 5-meter-high twin vertical tails looked very domineering, but they also created a blind spot for firing at the rear.

This bomber could invade enemy airspace at a super-high speed of 500 kilometers per hour and could calmly drop its bombs from a flight altitude of 7,000 meters. Some German bomber pilots were even willing to fly this plane to actively engage the enemy fighters that came to intercept them.

However, the Führer was still developing a more advanced long-range bomber, because Akado was not satisfied with the 2,000-kilometer range of the Do-217, which had satisfied both the army and the air force. In the Führer’s mind, the air force should be deploying heavy long-range bombers with a range of over 2,500 kilometers.

In the narrow cockpit of the plane, the pilot was concentrating on controlling the aircraft. Beside him, the co-pilot navigator was checking their map, identifying their flight direction from the crisscrossing roads and rivers on the ground below. Beneath their feet, the gunner operating the nose-mounted defensive cannon was chatting with the gunner in the dorsal position via the intercom. Their casual appearance made it seem as if they were not going on an attack mission at all.

Up to now, bombing missions had been a very pleasant job for the German air force pilots. The German fighters ruled the sky, and they were not at all worried about enemy planes charging out to attack them. The weak ground fire had long been cleared out by the Stukas. By the time it was their turn, the mission was often so simple it was hard to imagine.

“Tell the escort formation to go back! The Netherlands has no fighters left,” the navigator in the co-pilot’s seat said with a smile, looking at the ground below. “I really feel sorry for the Dutch. They’ve already lost, but they’re still trying to save face and don’t want to surrender.”

The engine was still roaring. The unique greenhouse-style cockpit of the German plane gave the pilot a very good forward view, but the premise was that you had to have the guts to fly the plane that high.

“Forget it! This is a combat flight mission. Just because you think it’s safe doesn’t mean it will be. It’s better to let those fighter brothers continue to fly up there. At least it will make us safer.”

“Flight altitude 6,500 meters! The plane is in good condition! Our flight path is completely correct. Everything is very normal, so normal that I wouldn’t even encounter such a normal combat environment in a drill,” the navigator said, tossing the building identification photos and the map aside and letting out a yawn. “I hear the Führer’s nose was injured by a British assassin the night before last?”

“His nose? I heard he injured it himself. The British assassin just fired a shot, and the Führer hit his nose while dodging the attack,” the weapons operator with the cannon at their feet shouted.

“So we’ll have a new mission soon, right?” the pilot interjected. “We’ll be ordered to take off from the Netherlands and bomb British cities. It’s a pity our range isn’t enough to threaten London, otherwise we could destroy that city in a few days. I guarantee I could drop a bomb on the Queen’s head.”

“You’re too pessimistic, Mr. Driver,” the navigator said with a laugh, nudging the pilot beside him with his elbow. “We’ll be taking off from France soon. The distance will be much shorter then! Also, I need to remind you of a very important thing: dropping bombs is my job! Understand?”

“Yes, I know! I understand very well! Because if I were the bombardier, the first thing I would drop would be a chatterbox like you!” the pilot said with a helpless laugh.

“Alright! Joke’s over. We’re seven minutes away from Rotterdam! Turn on the radio! Confirm that the weapon systems are normal!” the navigator began to carefully check his bombsight, no longer chattering on.

“All bombers, attention! All bombers, attention! In five minutes, we will arrive over the target! All crew members, enter a state of alert,” the voice of the bomber formation’s commander came through the headset. “God bless you! For the Führer!”

“See that airfield below?” the navigator, who was looking at the ground with his bombsight, suddenly asked.

“I see it. You mean the one with a national flag covering its roof?” the pilot replied casually.

“They are already so close to Rotterdam. Why don’t they just attack directly?” the navigator asked.

“Because if we go and bomb it first, it will be easier for them to fight,” the pilot replied after a few seconds, concentrating on his flying.

“That means we are more important, doesn’t it?” the navigator said, having adjusted his bombsight. He looked up. “Every time I drop a bomb, I have a feeling of being God. I am destroying a civilization! I can easily destroy buildings, damage streets—and send countless people to heaven.”

“What you’re talking about is the bomb’s job! You’re just responsible for dropping them,” the pilot said with a laugh. “And if you keep talking nonsense, I’ll drop you.”

“All planes, attention! Ahead is the target of this mission, the Dutch city of Rotterdam. Gentlemen, open your bomb bays and prepare to drop your bombs.”

With a pull of the bomb bay switch, and the sound of mechanical friction, the Do-217’s bomb bay slowly opened, revealing the dark bombs hanging inside the belly of the plane.

“Maintain your heading!” a loud command came through the headset.

“Decrease altitude!” After a while, or perhaps a few long minutes, the commander’s voice came through the headset again.

“They’re firing back! They’re firing back with anti-aircraft guns!” a pilot reported over his intercom. “An anti-aircraft shell exploded on my left side. It didn’t hit.”

“It seems they don’t have many anti-aircraft guns! All bombers, maintain formation! Hold steady! Hold steady! Continue to decrease altitude!” the commander shouted in the headset.

“We have reached the target! Attack begins! Free bomb drop!” Suddenly, the attack order was given.

“Click!” A slight sound was heard in the cockpit. The navigator knew that under his operation, a bomb had been released from its shackle inside the plane’s belly and was falling toward the ground.

“No one can save the Dutch now! They’re doomed!” the navigator, now the bombardier, said with a chuckle. “Go on down, baby.”

As he spoke, another bomb was dropped onto the streets of Rotterdam.

“Number 1, bombs away!” “Number 2, bombs away!”… With one report after another, hundreds of bombs fell from the high altitude, hitting the residential houses of Rotterdam, destroying factories and roads. One after another, the buildings collapsed with great fires.

“Cease bombing! All bombers, cease bombing!” the commander’s voice came in, urgent and hurried. “An order from the Air Force Commander, Kesselring! All bombers are to stop dropping bombs! Close your bomb bays! I repeat, the Air Force Commander, Kesselring, is relaying an order from the Führer. The mission is canceled! All bombers, close your bomb bays! Return to base immediately!”

“What on earth is going on, Commander? I didn’t hear your order clearly just now. We were ordered to bomb Rotterdam. The mission shouldn’t be canceled so easily,” a pilot said in the headset, confirming the accuracy of the order.

“You heard me correctly! I have been ordered to lead all bombers back to base at once! The Führer personally gave the order to cancel the mission. I have confirmed the cancellation code with General Kesselring over the radio,” the commander said into the intercom.

“May I be so bold as to ask why? After all, for such a large operation, to be canceled so easily is very unusual,” the squadron leader of another bomber squadron said in the headset.

“Of course, no problem. We just received news that the Queen of the Netherlands has already ordered the Dutch soldiers to lay down their arms. In a few hours, the frontline Dutch commanders will formally submit the surrender of the Dutch defenders to General Keitel of Army Group B. Therefore, the Führer has ordered a halt to this bombing operation,” the commander explained.

“In that case, that’s how it has to be, Commander,” the squadron leader said helplessly. “I have no further questions.”

“All pilots, attention! Heading due east! All return to base!” the commander commanded loudly.

The roar of the engines became even noisier. In the sky, the German bomber group began to turn. Although they still blotted out the sun, they no longer dropped their deadly bombs.

Queen Wilhelmina, her face pressed against the window, finally breathed a sigh of relief. She turned her head to look at the smiling Merkel and said, “I would like to stay for a few more days to console the people who have suffered from the air raid.”

“No problem,” Merkel said with a nod. “I believe that General Reinhard Heydrich, who is in charge of your security from the SS, will make the proper arrangements for you. You may use the German Wehrmacht’s honor guard. They are very impressive, the most fascinating military band and honor guard in the world.”

In the sky above, the talkative navigator rested his chin in his hand, bored. “It seems there are people who can save the Dutch. At the very least, our Führer can.”

“Heh,” the pilot scoffed, ignoring him.

The navigator sighed and continued, “The things that God cannot do, our Führer has done.”