Chapter 224: Despair, Can't Catch Up!

"... The speed is too fast, number 8374, the target is accelerating, I've already pushed to maximum thrust but still can't keep up!"

The pilot's hurried voice was filled with panic.

"They don't have conventional wings, but their maneuverability is extremely high, they seem to be able to... wait, they're climbing! Damn it, where did they go?"

A burst of static came over the radio, followed by the voice of another pilot:

"I see them! Heading north, altitude about 5000 meters, speed... my god, the Radar shows nearly 700 kilometers per hour! This is impossible!"

Johnson's hands were trembling slightly.

The maximum speed of the F-86 Fighter is about 1100 kilometers per hour, but that is under ideal conditions at high altitude.

At low altitude, affected by air resistance, the actual speed is greatly reduced.

But even so, for a type of aircraft never seen before to reach a speed of 700 kilometers at low altitude, this was a scene that only existed in science fiction novels.

"What are they?" Johnson muttered to himself, "Where the hell did the Long Country people get this kind of technology?"

Just then, another round of explosions shook the earth.

A Drone circled back and dropped the final Cluster Bomb aimed at the command area.

Countless Submunition scattered in the air, like seeds sown by the Grim Reaper, blooming into terrifying sparks on the ground in the blink of an eye.

"Retreat! Retreat immediately!" Johnson grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted until his voice was hoarse, but just as he finished speaking, a Submunition exploded right beside him, the deafening sound of the explosion drowning out everything.

Machine gunner Jackson had just rushed out of the tent when he was stunned by the scene before him.

The entire base seemed to have been thrown into a meat grinder, with explosions occurring one after another, merging into a single continuous roar.

Some of his comrades were running, some were screaming, and more were already lying motionless in pools of blood.

"What the hell is that?"

He stared at those eerie aircraft in the sky, the M2 Browning Machine Gun in his hands instinctively beginning to fire, but all the Bullet missed, not even grazing the edge of an aircraft.

"They're too fast!" the assistant gunner shouted in despair, "We can't hit them at all!"

Jackson was about to answer when he suddenly saw an aircraft flying toward their position.

"Get down!" he yelled, dragging the assistant gunner as he dove to the ground.

A few seconds later, a cylindrical device detached from beneath the aircraft and exploded at about 100 meters above the ground.

At that moment, Jackson witnessed one of the most terrifying scenes in the history of warfare—about three hundred fist-sized small bombs sprayed out from the main device, forming a perfect umbrella shape that covered an area of several hundred meters in radius.

These Submunition did not land at the same time, but exploded sequentially with a subtle time difference, ensuring that not a single inch of land could be spared.

"My god..." Jackson felt a wave of dizziness, watching with his own eyes as dozens of comrades were torn to pieces in this "rain of steel."

An engineering vehicle was hit by several Submunition at once, instantly turning into a burning metal coffin;

An ammunition depot was detonated, and the entire building along with the personnel inside was lifted into mid-air;

Even a reinforced concrete bunker was pierced through, and not a single person hiding inside survived.

This was not ordinary bombing; this was a targeted massacre.

Jackson had seen the bombing by Hans during the Alamein Campaign and had experienced the suicide attacks of Sakura, but he had never seen such terrifying lethality.

Traditional bombs at least gave people a glimmer of hope, but this kind of Cluster Bomb gave no chance of escape at all.

"We have to get out of here!" the assistant gunner pulled his sleeve, "Hurry! The whole base is going to be finished!"

Jackson had just climbed up when he saw an F-86 Fighter whizzing past at low altitude, chasing after an aircraft that was preparing to drop bombs.

"Shoot them down!"

He prayed silently, hoping to see those terrifying aircraft shot down.

The pilot of the F-86 was clearly a skilled hand; he skillfully maneuvered the fighter, trying to latch onto the tail of that aircraft.

But just as he was about to lock onto the target, the aircraft suddenly accelerated and simultaneously made an incredible sharp turn, completely exceeding the maneuverability range of conventional aircraft.

"That's not a movement a human could make..." Jackson was dumbfounded, "Unless..."

Unless that was not a manned aircraft at all.

This terrifying thought flashed through his mind, making him break out in a cold sweat.

If that were true, then the technology of the Long Country people was already far, far ahead of them.

The F-86 chased unyieldingly for a while longer, but the speed of that aircraft seemed to be still increasing, soon leaving the fighter behind and finally disappearing into the clouds.

"Our fighters can't catch up to them..." the assistant gunner said in despair, his voice trembling, "How is this possible?"

Jackson did not answer, because he himself could not understand everything before him.

Jet aircraft had only just entered the practical stage, and now, the Long Country people actually possessed aircraft faster than the F-86, and they might be unmanned?

This was truly a plot that only existed in novels.

Armored Company Commander Peter Morrison was trying to organize a makeshift defense team to stop a possible ground attack by the Long Country, but his attention was completely drawn by the situation in the sky.

"What on earth are those things?" his deputy company commander pointed at the sky in terror,

"They look like some kind of Missile, but they can drop bombs with such precision?"

Morrison shook his head: "I don't know, but what they are dropping is definitely some kind of new bomb I've never seen before. Look over there!"

He pointed to an oil depot in the distance that had just been hit.

Unlike traditional explosions, the blast points this time were distributed extremely evenly, as if they had been carefully designed to ensure the entire target was within the kill zone, with no blind spots.

"They seem to know where the important targets are," the deputy company commander said in a low voice,

"Ammunition depots, oil depots, command posts, communication centers... all precision strikes. This doesn't look like indiscriminate bombing, but a planned destruction operation."

Morrison was about to answer when he suddenly saw two F-86 fighters whizzing past overhead, chasing after those aircraft.

Everyone looked up and watched with bated breath—this was their only hope; if even the F-86 could not intercept those aircraft, then the entire base would fall.

"Hurry, hurry," Morrison clenched his fists, "Shoot down those monsters for me..."

The F-86 quickly approached an aircraft that was dropping bombs, the distance less than 500 meters, already within machine gun range.

Morrison saw the flash of fire at the nose of the plane and knew the pilot had already opened fire.

However, that aircraft performed an incredible maneuver—it changed its flight direction almost instantly, while its speed surged violently, drawing a graceful arc and leaving the F-86 far behind.