Chapter 275: The Ace

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The four British planes with their strange attack method were already tricky enough. If more were to come, it would be a bit overwhelming. So Galland commanded his wingman loudly as he climbed, “Keep an eye on those approaching planes. If they are enemy aircraft, tell us at once.”

Galland once again pulled back on his control stick, his internal organs pressing against his back, his back slammed against his seat. The liquid-cooled engine of his Fw-190D roared as it began to exert its powerful thrust, and the entire plane once again tilted its nose up and flew toward the vast, boundless sky.

“My God, Captain! The planes coming are indeed ours. They’re Fw-190s, but… but they’re not from our squadron,” the wingman’s voice came through the headset, which made Galland breathe a sigh of relief and then feel a great loss of face. He couldn’t solve the problems in his own airspace and had to rely on others for help. What kind of situation was this?

There were not many planes that had come, only two, one after the other, flying rapidly below the cloud layer. Although the undersides of their fuselages were painted in camouflage white, the ugly shape of the Fw-190D could still be distinguished.

These two planes quickly joined the battle. Galland had just climbed to regain his altitude and happened to see these two fighters begin their dive. Galland opened the intercom, selected the common frequency, and shouted, “Be careful, their planes have turrets…”

But he suddenly found that these two planes had begun a large circling maneuver while diving, and they had maintained a good formation. This experienced attack method made Galland involuntarily frown. These two German planes were using a dive to approach the target, but they were not using a high-speed straight-line approach. Instead, they were using a circling method to turn a straight line into a curve, and then the curve closed the distance between the two sides.

The turret fire from the British planes began to be dispersed. It was clear that rotating this turret was not an easy matter. And the two German planes were as if they were toying with their opponent. In the process of their spiraling dive, they even performed a simultaneous two-plane barrel roll.

When the distance had closed to a certain range, and the firepower of the British fighters had also been dispersed into a very messy state, the lead German fighter suddenly used a continuous barrel roll to cut into its attack angle. The cannons suddenly opened fire for two seconds, but it did not linger in the fight. Like an assassin, after one strike, it fled a thousand li.

But the British fighter that had been caught by it was not so elegant. It seemed that the terrible 13mm machine guns of the German fighter had hit it. This plane began to fall toward the ground, spewing thick smoke. In the process of falling, its left wing burned and broke off, a sight that made Galland’s heart leap into his throat.

And just as Galland was focusing all his attention on the lead plane, which was like an aerial dancer, the other wingman had also used the same method to cut into the tail of a British fighter. It was also a close-range, fierce, and short attack. After destroying the target, it calmly left.

“Captain, those two planes are really something,” the wingman’s voice came through the headset, pulling Galland back to reality from his shock. “Their flying is too beautiful. Their coordination is really good.”

A feeling of heartache seemed to come from Galland’s heart, and his breathing became heavy. All along, he had been like the famous Red Baron of World War I, Richthofen, a lone wolf who believed he was the king of the air, the master of the blue sky.

But today he suddenly realized that he was wrong, terribly wrong. The era of dominating the sky by relying on individual flying skills seemed to be gone forever. Now was the era of tactical air combat, which combined precise coordination and good technology. In the sky not far away, the coordinated tactics that he had once disdained were so pleasing to the eye.

He began to reflect on his own actions, began to feel that it was his own autocratic style that had gotten his wingman killed. Once this thought began to spread, it made this self-proclaimed absolute ace of air combat begin to feel afraid, to question his own ideas.

If… if I hadn’t been a lone wolf who liked to fight alone from the beginning, but had studied team coordination, then would I still have been able to shoot down so many planes? Would I have been able to protect my shot-down wingman and let him also become this kind of ace who soars through the sky?

At this time, the lead plane continued to circle to the left, once again aiming its nose in the direction of the remaining two British planes, and then, from a long distance, it made a provocative pass over the heads of the British fighters. The turrets on the enemy planes were still returning fire fiercely, but it was clear that their formation had been broken. They were firing blindly in all directions, their planes turning in a panic.

Soon, the two German planes had circled back again. They calmly squeezed their triggers. The 13mm machine guns on their wings spat out bullets, which flew toward the British fighters with their tracer rounds. Soon, a struggling British Defiant was hit in the wing. The plane, trailing thick smoke, struggled to maintain its flying posture, but it could no longer make complex evasive maneuvers.

“Thump! Thump-thump!” The German planes’ cannons roared again, directly destroying the already riddled, fragile wing. The smoking wing broke off, and then the entire plane exploded in mid-air, like a magnificent firework.

The remaining British fighter fled in a stumbling manner, but its disadvantage in speed gave it no chance to escape. The two German fighters chased after it, one after the other, and tore this last enemy plane to pieces in one go.

“It seems there’s nothing for us to do here,” Galland said, letting out a long breath. “Let’s return to the ground first, and then ask the fighter unit next door who those two masters were.”

He sullenly wiggled the plane’s control stick, then left this airspace without looking back. His wingman followed behind him without a word. On the way back, there was none of the usual relaxed laughter, only an irritating silence.

“Ground tower! This is Galland! I am now requesting permission to land!” Galland said, not even smoking his favorite cigar all the way. He didn’t even dare to look at the cigar lighter that had made him so proud. Like his first flight, he carefully performed every control action to perfection, his voice filled with a solemnity like that of a pilgrim.

“This is the ground tower! Welcome back, Captain!” the voice from the ground control tower came through the headset. His plane landed meticulously on the airfield runway. He then brought his plane to a steady stop and opened his cockpit canopy.

Several ground crew members came up, took his oxygen mask, and then helped him jump off the plane. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Galland began to ask, “Which is the flying unit stationed at airfield No. 7?”

“Captain, you’re asking about those two ace pilots from airfield No. 7, right? I know them. One is named Heinz Bär. He’s shot down only one less plane than you. The other is named Erich Rudorffer. I hear his combat record has already surpassed yours,” a ground crewman said with a smile. “I hear they both originally had wingmen. Because of the recent strange losses of many new pilots, the two of them have teamed up, hoping to achieve some results again.”

“We were all making bets, betting on whether they could shoot down that legendary British Defiant fighter,” another ground crewman interjected.

“There’s no need to bet. They just shot down four fighters I’ve never seen before. Judging by their appearance, they should be that strange Defiant,” Galland said with a sigh. “Call all the pilots to the conference room for a meeting to deploy the next stage of flight training, and to explain some of the enemy plane performance analysis I got today.”

Soon, all the pilots were gathered, filling the room. They gathered around Galland’s blackboard and listened carefully as he analyzed the attack characteristics of the British fighter.

“This plane with a turret cannot attack targets directly in front of it, and the rotation speed of the turret cannot keep up with our fighters. So, try to circle and frequently switch your attack direction to lure them into making a mistake,” Galland said, pointing to the flight path he had drawn on the blackboard to his men. “In addition, the roll capability of the Fw-190D is also very good and can be used for local maneuvering.”

“There is one more thing!” Galland said, staring at his men, and then added solemnly, “I used to look down on the role of a wingman’s cover, thinking that solo dogfighting was the only thing filled with beauty…”

He paused, scratched his head with his hand, and continued with some dejection, “I was wrong! I should be responsible for the incident where my wingman was shot down. Gentlemen, I now order you to maintain excellent communication with your wingmen, to train together, and to get used to cooperating with each other! This is the only magic weapon that will save your lives in the future.”

“I will write a detailed combat report and submit it to General Kesselring, and then make a profound self-criticism to express my deep apologies to my wingman,” Galland said, tears welling up in his eyes, but in the end, he did not let them fall. “That is all I have to say. Dismissed.”

“Clap! Clap-clap!” First, Galland’s current wingman began to applaud, and then all the pilots in the room followed suit. They all applauded and cheered for Galland. They were completely different from when they had just walked into the room, filled with even more respect and support for their captain, Galland.

And as the initiator of this ad-hoc meeting, Galland did not yet know that because of his change, he would create the legend of the most legendary all-ace fighter group in the German Air Force. In the future days of combat, this squadron would produce 95 ace pilots. 27 of them would shoot down more than 10 enemy planes, four would have a record of over 50, and Galland himself would become a household name in the air force.