Chapter 238: The Enemy Has Developed Cluster Bombs

In a temporarily erected tent, the ground was covered with parts collected from the wreckage of enemy aircraft.

Most eye-catching among them were several unexploded cluster bombs.

"These were found on the shot-down B-26," the Intelligence Officer explained,

"They appear to be cluster bombs copied by the enemy, with a design almost identical to ours."

Li Mingyuan crouched down to carefully examine these weapons.

On the surface, they were indeed extremely similar to the cluster bombs developed by Long Country, but there were some subtle differences in the internal structure.

"They improved the release mechanism," Li Mingyuan pointed out, "The distribution of the submunitions might be more uniform, covering a larger area."

He checked several other parts, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter:

"These materials... are excellent, and the manufacturing precision is quite high. The industrial and scientific research capabilities of Di Guo are truly astonishing; they were able to reverse-engineer our weapons and improve upon them in just a few weeks."

The Frontline Commander-in-Chief looked grave: "What does this mean?"

Li Mingyuan stood up and took a deep breath:

"It means we cannot let our guard down. Today's victory is only temporary; the industrial strength and scientific research level of Di Guo are far beyond our imagination.

They are now able to copy cluster bombs, and before long, they may develop weapons to counter the Jian-6."

"But didn't we just achieve a decisive victory?" an officer asked, confused.

Li Mingyuan shook his head: "Just a victory in an air battle, far from decisive.

Di Guo is not one of those small nations, but a true superpower, possessing the world's most powerful industrial system and most advanced scientific research facilities.

They suffered a setback today, but they will soon adjust and strike back."

The Frontline Commander-in-Chief understood Li Mingyuan's concern: "Are you saying we should expect a more powerful enemy?"

"That's right," Li Mingyuan affirmed.

The current Di Guo is a genuine world factory, not the hollowed-out financial hegemon of later generations.

Their manufacturing and innovation capabilities are second to none globally.

Being able to reverse-engineer cluster bombs in just a few weeks is enough to prove their strength.

Li Mingyuan looked around, his tone serious: "If we hadn't intercepted this batch of bombers, the losses would have been immeasurable. The power of this batch of cluster bombs might be even greater than we imagined."

The atmosphere in the tent became heavy.

The joy from just a moment ago seemed to have been diluted quite a bit.

"Then what should we do?" the Frontline Commander-in-Chief asked.

Li Mingyuan's gaze became firm: "Keep moving forward. The enemy is progressing, and we cannot stop our steps either. The Jian-6 is just a beginning; I already have design concepts for the next generation of weapons."

He walked quickly toward the outside of the tent, facing the slightly brightening sky, his mind already beginning to conceive new plans.

"The enemy may soon develop more advanced fighters and Anti-aircraft Systems to counter the Jian-6," he thought to himself,

"We need to prepare in advance, develop new Radar Systems, improved Air-to-Air Missiles, and even more advanced fighters..."

……

Twenty-four hours.

A full twenty-four hours had passed, and General Johnson stood on the base runway, confirming the number of returning aircraft once again—five battered F-86 Fighters and seventeen B-26 Bombers that had barely made it back.

"What about the others?" his voice was hoarse, almost inaudible, "Where are the remaining forty-five aircraft?"

The Communication Officer lowered his head: "Sir, there is no more news. For the past twenty-four hours, we have been monitoring all channels, but... there has been no response."

General Johnson's complexion turned from pale to livid, and finally to a sickly purplish-red.

His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, and his body trembled slightly, as if he were desperately suppressing a storm.

The first returning F-86 landed.

The pilot, Lieutenant Aaron Hawkins, was helped out of the cockpit by two ground crew members; his movements were extremely slow and stiff, as if he were a child who had just learned to walk.

"Lieutenant Hawkins!" General Johnson stepped forward quickly, "What exactly happened? Where are the others?"

Hawkins did not respond.

He stood there without saying a word, his eyes staring blankly into the distance, as if he hadn't heard the General's question at all.

"Hawkins!" Johnson grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently, "Answer me!"

Only then did he notice that Hawkins' flight suit was soaked—not with sweat, but with urine.

This once-proud ace pilot had actually lost control of his bladder in the cockpit.

"They... were too fast..." Hawkins finally spoke, his voice extremely faint, as if it were coming from very far away,

"They chased us... like a cat playing with a mouse... there was no way to escape..."

He suddenly grabbed Johnson's collar, his eyes wide open and filled with fear:

"Missiles! They have Missiles! They follow you! No matter where you fly... it can find you!"

Johnson was stunned: "What missiles? How could Long Country have Air-to-Air Missiles?"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" Hawkins' voice turned into a near-hysterical scream,

"Squadron Leader Matson... he performed a perfect evasive maneuver... but that damn thing still caught up to him! His plane exploded right before my eyes! Right before my eyes!"

Medical personnel rushed forward and injected Hawkins with a sedative.

But before the drug took effect, he was still muttering incessantly:

"We are no match for them... those aren't planes... they are monsters... they are demons sent from hell..."

Johnson stood frozen in place, watching as Hawkins was lifted onto a stretcher.

The second F-86 landed, and the pilot's state was even worse than Hawkins'—he couldn't even walk out of the cockpit himself and had to be carried out; the eerie smile on his face and his unfocused eyes signaled that he had already suffered a mental breakdown.

The situation of the B-26 Bomber crews was equally dire.

Major Fordy—a veteran who had participated in World War II and a hero who had shot down seven Sakura fighters in the Pacific theater—was found clutching the control stick tightly, repeating "They're coming, they're coming, they're coming" over and over, and it took three people to pull him from his seat.

"I just can't believe it..." General Johnson muttered to himself, "These are our most elite pilots... and now they look like they've seen a ghost..."

He turned to the Intelligence Officer: "I need the flight recorders and radar data from all returning aircraft, and I want a complete report compiled immediately. I need to know exactly what happened!"

……

Washington D. C., the Pentagon's top-secret conference room.

Air Force Chief of Staff General Curtis LeMay had a livid expression, his hands pressed against the long table, his gaze sweeping like a torch over every Advanced military officer and scientific advisor present.

"Gentlemen," his voice was low and dangerous,

"I want to hear your explanations. Why does Long Country—a nation that has just been founded and has a weak industrial base—possess supersonic fighter jets and air-to-air missiles? These technologies are even more Advanced than our own!"

The room was deathly silent.

No one dared to be the first to speak.

General Lemei slammed the table: "Speak! Who can give me a damn explanation?!"

Colonel Thomson of the intelligence department cleared his throat:

"According to preliminary analysis, Long Country may have received some technical support from the Polar Bear..."

"Nonsense!" Lemei interrupted him,

"The Polar Bear doesn't even have air-to-air missiles themselves, how could they possibly support Long Country?

Besides, even if they had the technical blueprints, how could a country with Long Country's level of industry possibly manufacture them?"

Doctor Henderson from the Scientific Research Department spoke up:

"Judging from the descriptions of the surviving pilots and the radar data, the performance of this Long Country fighter jet indeed exceeds our F-86.

It is estimated that its maximum speed can reach 1150 kilometers per hour. It is equipped with 30mm cannons and some kind of Infrared Guidance air-to-air missile."

"Infrared Guidance?" Lemei's eyebrows shot up sharply, "That is our most cutting-edge research direction! Even the prototype models are still in the laboratory! How could Long Country...?"

He could not finish the sentence, because an adjutant hurried into the conference room and whispered a few words in his ear.

Lemei's expression became even uglier.

"Gentlemen," he said in a deep voice, "The President wishes to understand the situation immediately."