Battle of the Third Reich Chapter 506: Retaliation (in)
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The three Messerschmitts drew a gentle arc in the air and turned their noses to fly to the air station again.
The runway of the base was still in panic, but the French finally had a few sharp-eyed ones. When the German plane passed over his head just now, he could clearly see the iron cross mark under the wings.
"Casefire! Major, let them all ceasefire. Those three are Messerschmidt." An Air Force lieutenant spotted Major Bertrand in the chaotic crowd.
"What's Messerschmidt?" Sorrent Bertrand ran towards the air-raid trench holding a young female nurse, and stopped when he heard the calls from his men.
"It's 109, it's a German fighter!" Lieutenant Raoul, the flying captain with a thick beard, pointed to the horizon and shouted.
"Are you sure?" Bertrand also had some doubts. He is an administrative officer and is not very good at aircraft identification.
"I can guarantee that there is an iron cross under the wings of that thing." The team leader wiped the sweat from his face, but forgot that his fingers were stained with oil from the fire pump, which seemed too rough. Now it's even harder to see his face.
"Damn it! It's too late, they fly back." Bertrand was really anxious this time. The base was beaten into such a tragic situation and he could blame the enemy for sneak attack, but then he returned in the panic It's really unreasonable to kill the friendly army. Maybe you might be sent to a military court because of this.
"Shoot the signal flare and disarm!" Raoul reminded.
"Yes! Signal flare!" Bertrand turned around and pointed to the underground shelter a hundred meters away.
"You go to Captain Fred over there and tell him to deliver my order immediately. All gun positions will cease fire immediately, and the friendly forces are in the sky." The major yelled to the female nurse, regardless of whether she understood it or not. , Just pushed on the girl's back.
"You guys come with me." The major beckoned to the pilots, and then stepped toward a convertible parked at the top of the runway.
"It's Lieutenant Colonel Gaston's command car. You can look for it in the back seat, and you can look at the trunk." Bertrand jumped into the cab and looked around the seat.
This is a Renault 1930 four-wheel convertible sedan. The colonial government purchased about a hundred cars from the French mainland and supplied them to the army and government as buses.
After the military obtains this four-wheeled car, it will usually make some necessary modifications to it. Now the car under the major’s **** is the most common modification model. A nine-watt communication radio is installed on the right side of the back seat of the car. In good weather, especially in such plain areas, the communication distance can reach more than six kilometers.
Usually the colony’s mobile units use it as a front-line command and communication vehicle, which has become standard equipment for battalion-level motorized units in the French Indochina colony. In particular, the garrison regiments are stepping up the expansion of the army recently, and this type of modified vehicles has become the object of competition for various newly-built units.
At the Shisuofeng Air Station, this car is used to conduct airborne voice communications with the pilots, and to direct the aircraft to take off and land nearby, which is similar to a temporary tower. Therefore, in the air station, this car has been used by Lieutenant Colonel Gaston, the deputy commander of the air station in charge of flight operations, and no one can borrow it at will without his permission.
"Found it, flare! Sir!" A pilot turned out a paper box.
"Here you are the flare gun." Bertrand unhooked the flare gun from the rearview mirror, and handed it to the opponent with the holster.
"How much do you send?"
"Green, two green ones, look for them quickly."
"Hurry up, these guys are already firing!"
"Be careful, don't worry, don't worry!"
"Didn't you see that I was looking for? Someone hit me on the head." A bunch of rough men quarreled beside this little command car.
"Found it! I found it!" A vicissitudes-looking air force lieutenant who resembled the killer Leon, raised a silver-clad flare, with a cheerful look on his face, like a steal It's the same to the candy child.
"Get it here!" The man with the flare gun snatched the flare without a word, and skillfully stuffed it into the barrel and closed the barrel.
A cloud of smoke rose up, and two green signal flares swayed up into the sky like fireworks. Then there were two more rounds. Worried that it would be difficult to find in the sun, the group simply hit the sky with all the green flare on their hands.
Speaking of it, it seems to have taken a long time, but in fact, all of this happened within half a minute.
At this moment, eight green flare flares are hanging in the air of the airport, and they are slowly falling with white smoke tails. Even a fool should have spotted them.
The green flare is an emergency ceasefire signal agreed by the air station. In fact, the sirens should be used during the day, but the thing has been blown to pieces along with the control tower.
In fact, the signal did work. After several anti-aircraft machine guns fired several bursts, they all stopped firing. At this moment, even if the soldiers in the battle position were dull, they should have noticed something wrong.
"It seems that the French finally reacted." Speru muttered to himself as he watched the string of green flare in the air, the ground fire has stopped shooting, and it was obvious that the French had noticed the Oolong incident they had caused.
"White No.3, White No.4, follow me!" Sporu pushed hard and kicked the rudder. The plane made a vicious barrel roll, and then the nose pressed down and it started to dive at high speed.
"Raoul! You said they were German planes!" Bertrand, sitting in the command car at the top of the runway, looked at the shadow of the plane falling like a falcon and the screaming noise from the engine from the sky. The major couldn't keep calm anymore, this action didn't look very friendly.
"It's BF109. I'll bet with you next month's salary." Raoul stood up in the passenger seat and grabbed the front windshield border.
"They are going to shoot!" A pilot pushed the door and tried to jump down.
"Don't worry, it's not like an offensive action. They rushed too hard." The comrade on the side grabbed the collar of the one in front.
While they were still arguing, the three 109s were already less than 300 meters from the runway. Speru violently flattened the fuselage, and the height of the plane dropped to fifty meters. From the ground, the huge iron cross mark on the wing seemed within reach.
Like the two subordinates, Sporu also painted his own unique paint, which is a unique ivory white, the engine fairing is painted pink, and the side of the cockpit is painted a blood red The rose of the iron cross is painted with her captain's logo on the front, and the rear is a white No. 1 logo with a red border. The rudder on the tail is painted with a full thirty-one strike logo.
Three fighters painted with bright paint aimed at the runway, and once again descended, almost whizzing past the top of Major Bertrand. The Germans lined up in a standard three-plane oblique line. The distance between them is like measuring with a ruler, and the insider knows that the person sitting in the cockpit will never be an ordinary pilot.
"All German ace pilots, I bet with next month's salary." Raoul yelled.
"Keep your salary, the blind can see that these Germans fly really well." Major Bertrand started the car, and several pilots standing by the car quickly jumped onto the footboard.
"Look, they dropped something." A sharp-eyed pilot shouted, pointing to the runway.
Following the direction of his fingers, you can see a small gray-green tin can tumbling in the middle of the runway, and a small white parachute is dragged behind the buttocks. This is the German standard airdrop communication tank. Generally, German reconnaissance planes and liaison planes use this to communicate with ground troops when they cannot use radio. German troops often use this method to deliver items to the troops, such as written letters from superiors. Commands and the latest tactical maps, or things like medals and medals.
The French major hurried to the canister. A pilot jumped out of the car and ran over. Then he ran back with the canister the size of a gas mask tube.
The three planes have completed their ultra-low altitude. Normally, starting from the end of the runway with full horsepower, it seems that they want to do it again.
"Give me the jar, don't squeeze it. I am now the highest-ranking officer here. Give me that jar." Bertrand shouted.
"Colonel Martin is not dead yet."
"Old Martin opened a hole in his lungs. I have seen it. It is miserable. May God bless him."
"Really? Poor old guy, he's about to retire soon." A few middle-aged people who didn't care about it started talking again.
"It's the radio frequency, the communication frequency, the **** communication frequency, who will operate this radio station." A piece of paper in Bertrand Yang's hand ~ IndoMTL.com ~ seems to be torn from a notebook Down there, a bunch of numbers were written hastily with a red pencil.
"I will play this." The pilot with a gray face and stubble, who looked like the killer Leon, snatched the paper.
"Raymond, when did you learn to operate the radio." A pilot patted his back hard.
"What have you guys learned in the aviation school? How do you wash your feet for the principal's wife?" Lieutenant Raymond retorted and turned on the radio.
"Isn't this your best? You playboy." The friend messed up Raymond's hair.
"Shhh! Be quiet! Shut up, you fools! Take your dirty hands away. This is a newly customized uniform. Yes, it looks a little dusty, so what? It's still new Yes." Major Bertrand shot and shot a **** path from the front seat to the back seat.
"It's all quiet, I'm connected." Raymond pressed the headset with one hand, and adjusted the frequency with the other.
"This is the Poetry Air Station, Bluebeard? Yes, yes, it is Bluebeard." The pilot called in a heavy German accent.
"Okay, okay, I'll let my officer talk to you right away." Raymond saw the ghost expression on his face, and handed the headset in his hand to Bertrand.
"You won't believe it, it's a woman talking inside?" Raymond whispered to his surrounding companions.
"It must be a mental disorder. I have heard of this kind of thing. I listen to all sounds like a woman. I should give this poor guy a vacation."
"The Germans let women fly fighter jets? The Virgin Mary."
"Don't talk nonsense, maybe it's the wrong frequency." A group of boring uncles found a new topic and started a new round of discussion.
PS: Catch up, thank you for your understanding. (To be continued.)