Chapter 159: Rain‑Season Aircraft Finally Take to the Skies

Myanmar's rain seemed as if it would never cease.

Under the downpour in Lashu, the whole city was shrouded in mist.

Lashu Airport.

The long‑missed sunshine tore through the haze, its light spilling onto the tarmac. This sudden clear weather presented, for the air troops waiting here, the long‑awaited opportunity.

Inside the Command Center, the radio's tick‑tack sounds pulsed rapidly through the air. An urgent telegram from the Front was swiftly translated by the telegraph operator and handed to Song Yunfei.

Song Yunfei glanced at the telegram's contents, his previously tight mouth corners lifting slightly, a flash of brilliance flashing in his eyes. Without any hesitation, he immediately seized the microphone on the desk and decisively issued the combat order: "Immediately assemble the air brigade! All aircraft prepare for Level‑One combat readiness, take off at once!"

The alarm sound instantly ripped the airport's tranquility.

Pilots and ground crew rushed from every corner toward the parking spots.

The engines' roar began to rise and fall.

At this moment, Song Yunfei stood under the rain shelter in front of the Command Center, gazing at the ready aerial cavalry before him, a feeling of indescribable pride swelling in his heart. He could now truly be called "wealthy and generous." Who could have imagined that the once‑scrappy small flight squad had grown into a massive formation with 77 elite pilots and 185 ground‑support personnel?

While Jiang Anguo's ground forces continued to strengthen, the air units also kept expanding, yet they remained constrained by manpower limits and the initial neglect of air troops.

After all, Lashu Airport did not belong to Jiang Anguo at first.

It was the highest Lashu commander Lin Wei who first withdrew back to the homeland, leaving only Hu Xianqun and Jiang Anguo as Lashu's top commanders; thus Jiang Anguo naturally took over all of Lashu, including Lashu Airport.

But the weather in northern Myanmar truly battered Jiang Anguo's and Song Yunfei's confidence: for a whole day, more than half the time it rained, and the rest was shrouded in rain‑filled mist.

At the runway's end, a uniform line of Messerschmitt BF109 fighters stood ready to take off.

Why doesn't Jiang Anguo switch to American gear? After all, with the arrival of the Flying Tigers, China and the United States are in a delicate cooperative state, and American P40 Fighter Aircraft are not unattainable.

For now he hasn't found a reason!

But the fact is that the few P40s currently equipped domestically are mostly early models. In performance specs, early P40s indeed show a clear gap compared with BF109s.

The BF109's climb rate, dive speed, and armament configuration give it the upper hand in equal‑level engagements.

Of course, the BF109 is not invulnerable; its biggest flaw is its short legs—insufficient range.

Yet tactically this becomes an advantage: strike and run, using speed to disengage, while the enemy's P40 often can only stare helplessly.

More importantly, Jiang Anguo harbors extremely far‑reaching considerations.

He still does not wish the Americans to fully see his hidden cards. Jiang Anguo's biggest secret is the battlefield system; he can use the System Exchange to obtain weapons and gear. To plausibly explain the large stock of German equipment he possesses, he has previously used German doctor Lei Ao as a shield.

But the situation is changing; to later legitimately exchange points for more advanced American fighters, he needs a more weighty "American" as endorsement.

Each character's appearance must be just right; the structure cannot be messed up.

At this moment, as the order was given, the engines' roar on the runway became deafening.

Twenty‑two BF109 fighters led the formation, poised like hunting hawks; right behind them were sixteen Stuka bombers, their distinctive fixed landing gear and slanted wings exuding a chilling aura in the sunlight.

This was not merely a sortie but a display of power. The previous aerial defeat should have made the Japanese Army wary, no longer daring to roam the Myanmar skies as recklessly as before.

According to intelligence, the Japanese Army's main air force is currently stationed at Tonggu Airport. The distance between Tonggu and Lashu is considerable. This means that when Song Yunfei's formation roars into the clouds, the Japanese are likely still asleep, or busy covering their aircraft with rain‑proof canvas.

"Take off!"

The first BF109 shot into the clouds like an arrow released from a bow, followed by the second, the third… Soon, the massive formation was fully airborne.

After taking off, the aircraft performed a brief circle, then adopted a three‑three formation and, without lingering, each squadron flew straight toward Lashu's south; the longer they stayed, the less fuel the planes had.

On the ground in the camp tent area, Dai Anlan felt his condition improving, and having heard the commotion in the sky, he stepped out.

Having finally seen the sun peek out, he also wanted to take advantage of this rare break to lie down; his body felt as if it were about to mold.

"Myanmar's cursed weather…" Dai Anlan looked up, squinting at the pale, feeble sun, and couldn't help letting out a sigh.

He is a southerner, accustomed to the south's damp cold, even naturally immune to the so‑called "returning south" weather. Yet Myanmar's rainy season far exceeds his comprehension. It isn't the lingering drizzle but a baptism of downpours. The sky seemed to leak, with torrential rain pouring day and night without cease.

Dai Anlan clearly remembered that when the troops entered Myanmar it was still February; although a bit sweltering, it was at least dry. Yet now, not even May, this desperate rainy season has already begun. The stark contrast left him puzzled: why is the rain so heavy? Where does this water come from?

As a commander, he has the right timing, terrain, and people!

Dai Anlan stood where he was and said, "This downpour is a severe test of the troops' supplies; Jiang Anguo's forces might be in danger."

Dai Anlan was a bit worried about his brother‑in‑law, and he had also underestimated Myanmar's rainy season.

In fact, it's not Dai Anlan's fault. He knows the Central Plains' spring, summer, autumn, winter, the twenty‑four solar terms, but he is completely unfamiliar with the tropical rainforest's unique climate.

Even worse, the British allies provided no valuable intelligence during this process. Neither the arrogant British Army generals nor the self‑important Stilwell warned the Chinese Expeditionary Force that Myanmar's climate is divided into dry and rainy seasons, and that May each year marks the life‑or‑death dividing line.

It can be said that this was the first time in Chinese Army history that troops entered a tropical rainforest combat environment. Due to the lack of intelligence and insufficient preparation, the battle was shadowed from the start. Everyone underestimated the brutal natural obstacle Myanmar set.

Dai Anlan inhaled a deep breath of moist air, his gaze fixed on the distant, lush yet ominously foreboding jungle. He knew this downpour could halt the Japanese Army's assault on the three key strongholds in northern Myanmar, and that launching a counter‑offensive against the Japanese in Myanmar would be equally arduous.

ps: Regarding the Supplement Battalion issue, keyboard warriors, just tap your fingers and search; Dai Anlan has even served as a Supplement Regiment Commander. Whether you believe it or not, I do; the th Division that entered Myanmar still had a Supplement Regiment.