Chapter 191: Repaying the Debt 2

On the night of May 19, 1938, at Chengdu Fenghuangshan Airport, at 11 p. m., the guide lights on both sides of the runway traced two vague light strips in the darkness. The engines of two American‑made Martin B‑10 bombers emitted a low rumble, and the mechanic was conducting the final inspection.

Xu Huansheng stood beside the No. 1403 cockpit, checking the list one last time: "60,000 leaflets, packed into twenty burlap sacks. Navigation equipment, radio, fuel …" This twenty‑eight‑year‑old Huaxia Air Force th Squadron First Lieutenant captain's face appeared unusually resolute in the dim light.

Co‑pilot Tong Yanbo handed over a cup of hot tea: "Captain, the weather station confirms that the East China Sea airflow is relatively stable. But our range …"

"I know," Xu Huansheng took the cup, the warmth passing through the enamel to his palm, "the one‑way distance exceeds a thousand kilometres, almost at the Martin's limit. But we must fly."

A ground crew member ran over to report: "Captain, the President's adjutant office urgent telegram!"

The Document was brief: "'Humanitarian Expedition', ensure success. President."

Xu Huansheng carefully folded the Document and placed it into the pocket of his flight suit. He recalled the scene three days earlier in Jiangcheng when he met Aviation Committee Committee Member Qian Dajun. Director Qian's face was solemn: "Huansheng, this mission is a nine‑to‑one chance of death. But we must let the Japanese know—Huaxia Air Force can fly over their heads!"

"It's not for bombing," Director Qian emphasized at the time, "it's for proclamation. We want the whole world to see that Huaxia is resisting, that the Huaxia Air Force is still fighting!"

At this moment, mechanic Lao Chen finished the final engine check, walked over and patted the fuselage: "Captain, I've tended to this old fellow for three days and three nights; the fuel lines, electrical circuits, and air passages are all clear. But to be honest … it's too far."

Xu Huansheng glanced at his watch—23:45. He turned to the eight crew members and said: "Brothers, this mission carries no bombs, only paper. But we will fly to Japan, over their cities, and drop sixty‑thousand leaflets. Let the Japanese see that the Huaxia Air Force can reach their homeland! Any problems?"

"None!" the eight answered in unison, their voices thin yet firm in the night wind.

At zero hundred hours, the two bombers slipped onto the runway. The engine roars surged suddenly, and the aircraft began to accelerate. The runway lights formed a light strip beneath the wings, growing faster, and finally the noses lifted as the two Martin‑style machines surged into the dark night sky.

In the early hours of May 20, over Nagasaki, Japan, at 02:50, Xu Huansheng looked through the side window and saw the coastline. Below was the pitch‑black Kyushu Island.

"Captain, position confirmed, Nagasaki Bay," navigator Su Guanghua reported softly. His hand trembled slightly—not from fear, but from a physiological reaction to extreme tension.

Tong Yanbo lowered his voice: "There are lights below … the city hasn't fully imposed blackout."

Xu Huansheng inhaled deeply: "Descend to 3,500 metres, prepare to disperse."

The aircraft began its descent. Inside the cabin, the dropper opened the bomb bay—there were no bombs, only neatly tied burlap sacks. The leaflets bore bilingual Chinese‑Japanese text:

Letter to Japanese Citizens

Citizens of neighboring nations, you are not our enemies. The invasion of Huaxia is the crime of Japanese warlords, not the will of the Japanese people. We hope you awaken, oppose the war, and not be sacrificed for the warlords …

Xu Huansheng gave the order: "Release!" The burlap sacks were ejected from the bomb bay, bursting in the air; sixty‑thousand leaflets fluttered down like snowflakes, scattering in the night wind over Nagasaki's streets and rooftops.

At the same moment, aircraft No. 1404 flew over Sasebo Naval Port, completing the same mission.

The two aircraft circled Japan three times, and after confirming the leaflets were dispersed, they turned their noses and returned.

At dawn on May 20, during the return, "Captain, the fuel can last another four hours," the mechanic reported, "but we must locate an alternate landing field. The originally planned Ningbo Lishi Airport may …"

Before the words finished, the radio crackled with an urgent call: "Eagle Nest calling the expedition team! Eagle Nest calling the expedition team! The Japanese have detected the operation and are dispatching fighters to the Zhejiang Coast! Recommend changing the landing point! Repeat …"

Xu Huansheng glanced at the chart: "Turn toward Wenzhou. As long as we can set foot on our own soil, we can land anywhere."

At eight a. m., the two aircraft appeared over the Zhejiang Coast. The fuel gauge needle was already near the red zone. Below, the mudflats of the Wenzhou Ou River Mouth were faintly visible.

"Prepare for forced landing!"

The aircraft lowered its altitude, skimmed the mudflats, and finally bounced onto a relatively flat earthen road. The wheels sank deep in the mud, and the fuselage, under great inertia, slid forward dozens of metres before finally stopping.

Xu Huansheng pushed open the hatch and jumped from the plane. The scent of earth hit his face—it was the scent of the homeland. The eight crew members followed suit, some falling to their knees and kissing the soil.

Not far away, a few fishermen‑clad people ran over, and upon seeing the Blue Sky White Sun Emblem on the aircraft, they shouted excitedly: "It's our plane! It's our plane!"

An elderly man asked shakily: "Officer, where did you… come from?"

Xu Huansheng straightened his posture and answered word for word: "Sir, we have returned from Japan."

On the morning of May 20, in the office of Tokyo Minister of the Navy Mi Nei Guangzheng, the atmosphere was so heavy it could be squeezed for water. Several leaflets lay spread on the desk—sent urgently from Nagasaki.

"Zhina aircraft … flew to Nagasaki?" Mi Nei Guangzheng's voice was filled with disbelief, "Is our air‑defence system just a decoration?!"

Deputy Chief Yamamoto Isoroku stood by the window, his back to the room. This navy officer, who would later plan the Pearl Harbor attack, now wore an iron‑blue complexion: "Minister, this is not an ordinary air raid. They did not drop bombs; they dropped leaflets."

"This is more terrifying than bombs!" Mi Nei Guangzheng slammed the table, "Bombs can only destroy buildings; these paper pieces …" He grabbed a leaflet, "'Letter to Japanese Citizens' … this is shaking public morale! It tells the people that even Zhina aircraft can fly over our heads!"

Yamamoto turned around: "It has been confirmed—two Martin bombers, taking off from Huaxia Chengdu, crossing the East China Sea straight to Kyushu. The range exceeds a thousand kilometres. This shows that the Zhina Air Force still has long‑range strike capability, and also shows …" He paused, "Our campaign against Huaxia has already begun to expose our own soil to threat."

"Retaliation is required!" Mi Nei Guangzheng gritted his teeth, "Immediately locate the airport they used, destroy it! Also, domestic air‑defence must be overhauled completely! The air‑defence commanders of Nagasaki and Sasebo are to be dismissed and investigated!"