Chapter 274: The Defiant

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Like the Führer Akado, Galland seemed to be in a good mood recently, because he had received a personal prize awarded to him by his fighter group—a specially modified, high-altitude-specific, liquid-cooled Fw-190D fighter.

Like the standard liquid-cooled Fw-190D, this plane was equipped with one 30mm cannon and two 13mm machine guns, balancing the super-high destructive power of the cannon with the endurance of the machine gun’s firepower.

This plane had a very conspicuous difference, which was a large blank space left under the cockpit, for painting Galland’s dazzling combat record from the past few days. In his frequent combat sorties, he had scored his 41st personal kill. This achievement ranked second in the entire German Air Force.

Of course, since it was a specially modified plane, it was bound to have some different features from other aircraft. The only modification on this plane was on its instrument panel, where there was a dedicated cigar lighter. This was tailor-made for Galland, who was a great lover of cigars.

And with the approval of the relevant air force departments, this plane was allowed to have its tail painted a bright red, which was also an additional reward from the German Air Force for ace pilots with more than 50 kills.

The Red Baron, Manfred von Richthofen, was Galland’s idol. He even deliberately imitated the legendary pilot, who had shot down 80 planes, in his daily speech. So this time, he had painted the tail of his plane bright red without a second thought.

The German Air Force was in a state of invincibility over France, so the jurisdictions of the various fighter units had also become very chaotic. In order to compete for some combat records, the ace pilots were allowed to hunt in adjacent airspace.

And at this very moment, Galland was piloting this extraordinarily satisfactory fighter, patrolling the edge of his assigned airspace. Because so many of their planes had been slaughtered, in the past two days, the French Air Force had rarely taken off to challenge the German planes.

“Wingman, our current altitude is 5,700 meters. Maintain your altitude,” Galland said, looking around and then reminding him over the intercom.

The wingman’s voice came through the headset. “No problem. I am flying behind you, to your upper left.”

“Pay attention to the position of the clouds! If any French planes dare to appear, they must be old hands! We can’t be careless, understand?” Galland lit his cigar and took a leisurely puff.

Recently, the German Air Force had lost four Fw-190D fighters. These planes had all been shot down while on two-plane patrols. The communication content that was sent back was also very strange. These pilots who had been shot down and killed were all shot down after diving to attack or after getting on a target’s tail.

Military reports stated that Britain had put a new type of fighter into service, with a rotating turret on top of the plane. This plane could fire upwards and directly to the rear, and its firepower was very fierce. But this claim had not yet been confirmed.

“Understood,” the wingman replied in the headset. The two planes still maintained their formation, patrolling their airspace one after the other.

Suddenly, Galland saw several planes at an altitude of about 3,000 meters, flying toward them. Galland immediately extinguished the cigar in his hand, looked carefully, and confirmed the number of enemy planes. “Wingman! Wingman! At our nine o’clock, down low! I see four enemy planes! See them? They are in a tight formation and are faster than the previous enemy planes.”

“I see them! I see them! They’re too far. I can’t make out the model of the enemy plane for now,” the wingman replied after a few seconds.

“Maintain flight altitude! I will dive to attack in a moment! You follow me and cover my tail,” Galland said after considering for a moment, giving the attack order. “Begin a slight dive! Increase speed!”

A few more seconds passed, and the distance between the two sides grew closer. Galland clearly saw the insignia painted on the opponent’s wings. These were four British planes, not their old rival, the French fighters. And this type of plane was very strange. There was actually a strange glass bulge behind the cockpit.

“Attack begins!” There was no time for Galland to hesitate. He decisively gave the attack order. The two German fighters began to dive sharply to gain more speed. The roar of the engines and the sound of the fuselages cutting through the air was like a symphony. Galland’s eyelids twitched, and a feeling of unease welled up in his heart.

The distance grew closer and closer. Galland’s good eyesight finally made out the strange appearance of the enemy planes. That transparent, strange “bulge” turned out to be a turret with four machine guns. Galland subconsciously jerked the control stick to the right, and only then did he shout in alarm, “Roll! Wingman! They can hit you!”

At almost the same time, the British Defiant fighters opened fire. The bullets sprayed over like a rainstorm. The full sixteen machine guns on the four Defiant fighters instantly spewed out hundreds of dense bullets.

But fortunately, with Galland’s shout of warning, the two German fighters, while diving, performed a difficult barrel roll. The two planes, one after the other, one to the left and one to the right, quickly dived and rolled, avoiding the dense barrage of fire and speeding past the wings of the British fighters.

It was as if in a hunting competition, he had been trying to shoot a rabbit but had accidentally stepped on a grizzly bear’s tail. Galland felt utterly disgraced. The British planes were clearly faster than their French allies’ fighters. Galland and his wingman, having lost their altitude, were actually unable to shake off the entanglement of the British planes for a moment.

“Roll! Keep rolling! And then find a chance to circle and pull up! We must regain our altitude! Did you hear me, wingman? Wingman?” Galland shouted as he weaved his plane from side to side to avoid any possible bullets from behind.

“I hear you! I’m climbing! I’m climbing! But I can see them on my tail! I can’t shake them,” the wingman replied nervously. It was proven that the British pilots were very well-trained. When the gap in fighter performance had narrowed slightly, their combat effectiveness was not weak.

Galland ruled out a loop to get on their tail, because doing so would expose most of his plane to the fire of that damned turret on the enemy’s back. So he felt he should first break contact and then calmly think of a better way.

But something unexpected happened. After getting on his tail, the British fighter did not open fire but followed him steadily. Is the opponent so confident? Do they want to shorten the distance before opening fire? One must know that the Fw-190D of this era had a super-high flight speed of nearly 600 kilometers. Was it possible for the British to have built a better fighter?

Galland didn’t believe it. He had to convince himself not to think wild thoughts. Carefully controlling his plane, Galland weaved left and right and then suddenly pulled up. At this moment, the opposing fighter actually opened fire. But because his turn was particularly sudden, the bullets chased the tail of his plane but did not hit his fighter.

The Fw-190D’s rate of climb was quite fast, so this time Galland had escaped his danger. The fighter once again flew toward the white clouds. He seemed to have found a magic weapon to defeat the enemy.

The strange attack of the British fighter just now had made him think of something, but he had forgotten it in the chaos. Now he needed to think carefully, to come up with a perfect countermeasure to deal with these British fighters with their strange attack methods.

It seemed his wingman’s luck was also good. Although his flying posture was very ugly, he had still managed to use his speed to shake off the pursuit of the British fighter and had begun a rapid climb. After this strange and unsuccessful attack, the two German planes were clearly more cautious. They climbed to an altitude of 6,000 meters before leveling off and began to circle near the British planes, waiting for an opportunity to attack.

At this moment, it felt a bit like a hunting dog circling a hedgehog, not knowing where to bite. The German planes’ most common tactics of diving attacks and tail-chasing had been blocked by the strange turret of this plane. If they still used their old tactics to attack, they would instead be shot down by this plane.

So Galland planned to rely on his experience to test them again. He ordered his newly-rejoined wingman, “Maintain altitude and be ready to cover me at any time. I’m preparing to attack again.”

Once again, he dived. The characteristic frantic dive of a German fighter, diving to the extreme, a speed that broke human limits, with the whistling of the wind, with all his internal organs pressed against his back, feeling that unparalleled sense of being pushed back into his seat. He pushed the speed to over 600 kilometers per hour. With this speed, he charged into the British formation with lightning speed. Galland intended to rely on his invincible firepower to tear his target to shreds.

“Thump-thump, thump-thump-thump.” This time, without getting close to the target, Galland opened fire with the 30mm cannon in his nose. A tongue of flame shot out, and the bullets drew beautiful lines in the sky. But due to the distance, most of the shells did not hit the British planes.

The British gunners, seeing that the situation was not looking good, all opened fire early. But at this distance, it was very difficult for the small-caliber machine guns to hit the weaving, diving Galland. So another round of exchange of fire ended in a draw. No one was able to hit anyone.

“I think I know their weakness! The maneuvering of this aircraft is not as flexible as ours, and their fire is inaccurate when they are maneuvering,” Galland said into the intercom as he continued to weave his plane to shake off the pursuit of the British planes. “And another problem, it seems they can’t fire at a target directly in front.”

“I think I have to tell you some bad news. It seems other planes are approaching,” the wingman’s voice came from the headset. “You need to pull up higher! I can’t yet make out whose planes they are!”