Chapter 222: Reunion in Chongqing

William, that Captain who commands calmly in the sky, now looks like a lost child.

He leans against his own aircraft, watching ground crew pull the bomb heads out of the wing one by one, his body trembling uncontrollably.

He won, but he lost five brothers he had lived with day and night.

He saw with his own eyes Jack crash into Xi Ze, saw Charlie's parachute torn by bullets in the air… those images will become his lifelong nightmare.

Stilwell and Dai Anlan also walked over.

Stilwell also felt a post‑disaster survival feeling; if it hadn't been for that young colonel arranging escort fighters, they would all have died under the Japanese Army's aircraft.

This United States general's face no longer bore the former arrogance and harshness; he walked up to a crying ground mechanic, silently removed his cap, and bowed deeply.

"They are all heroes," Stilwell's voice was a bit hoarse.

Jiang Anguo stood not far away, quietly watching it all. His mood was exceedingly complex. He was glad that his planned escort succeeded, was moved by the pilots' bravery, and felt his heart race at the heavy price.

He opened the system panel, staring at the cold numbers. In this victory he had contributed almost no points, yet the loss of seven P-40s and their experienced pilots was a priceless asset no amount of points could retrieve. He realized that war was never a simple numeric exchange in a system, but composed of individual living lives and their sacrifices.

He walked up to William, said none of the hollow consolations, and simply handed him a cigarette.

William took the cigarette but did not light it, just stared into the distance, murmuring, "We shot down twenty… but we… also lost five."

William was not certain how many aircraft his side had actually downed, because the dead crew could not clarify how many Japanese aircraft they had shot.

"I know," Jiang Anguo said softly, "but the people of Chongqing will remember you. All of China will remember you."

Because there were outsiders, Jiang Anguo had to say it this way.

William looked up at Jiang Anguo, this young Chinese colonel, whose eyes held a steadiness and resolve beyond his years. He nodded, finally lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag.

"Yes, Commander, the final victory belongs to us! Belongs to China!"

The sky temporarily returned to calm, but Jiang Anguo knew it was only a brief respite between storms. And he and his troops must, in this lull, become harder than steel.

Jiang Anguo sought revenge; he was not one to postpone vengeance, just as he had killed four thousand Little Devils for Jiang Fei.

He didn't mind killing a few more Little Devils.

The victory of the 522 air battle greatly lifted morale in Chongqing and all of China. Yet for those who lived it, those five P-40s that never returned, and their brave pilots, became indelible stars in that sky.

Jiang Anguo, the moment he touched down, still felt unsettled; while in the air he recalled many things, many memories flooded his mind, especially when Jiang Anguo trained at Chanda, he thought it was the most relaxed moment since the war began.

"Anguo, back to yourself, honestly, I was startled too," Dai Anlan said softly from behind.

After all, as a senior officer, admitting fear would greatly affect morale.

Jiang Anguo nodded and said, "Division commander, should we first go see the Principal, or return home to visit our sisters?"

Dai Anlan's gaze signaled, and Jiang Anguo saw Stilwell there too; Dai Anlan seemed to mean they should first see the Principal.

"Alright," Jiang Anguo, seeing William and the others also disembark, but surrounded by a crowd raising their hands high, said, "I'll make the arrangements here, then go over."

Jiang Anguo only told William and the others not to wander, noting that when Jiang Anguo arrived in Chongqing he brought hardly any outdoors gear; none of the Guard Company came, and aside from the pilots, only Xiao Si was there.

All together, no more than fifteen people, including the pilots.

During that recent air battle Jiang Anguo's heart was uneasy, mainly fearing death; that's why in Myanmar he had a 500‑person Guard Company, but now suddenly has no one guarding, leaving him uneasy.

Chongqing, the Principal's residence.

Vehicles left the city's clamor and dust, entering a valley shaded by green trees.

The road grew increasingly tranquil, the checkpoints along the way grew stricter; every soldier's gaze was sharp, movements precise, exuding an efficiency and grimness distinct from front‑line troops.

Jiang Anguo had no memory of this route; he simply stayed close behind Dai Anlan, ensuring he would not lose his way in this maze of power.

Xiao Si's weapon had already been off‑loaded early and handed to the sentry at the gate.

After all, this is the leader's residence; although the nominal head of state is Lin Sen, everyone knows the military power and fate of this country truly lie in whose hands.

Turning a corner, an elegant Western‑style villa appeared before them.

In front of the villa, a person stood at the doorway, hands behind his back, head slightly tilted upward, as if gazing at Chongqing's sky, apparently waiting to welcome them.

Presumably today's air battle made this leader, ever worried about state affairs, feel genuine happiness.

Beside him stood a lady in a simple elegant qipao, graceful in demeanor; surely this was his wife.

Dai Anlan and Stilwell each rode in a sedan.

Seeing Dai Anlan and Jiang Anguo alight, that figure instantly turned, his face bearing a rare, heartfelt smile, the sorrow in his brows seemingly swept away by today's victory. He straightened his back, kept lightly nodding, and stepped forward with a brisk gait.

"Good! Good! Dai Anlan, you're back!" The Principal's voice was loud and powerful, full of uncontainable joy, "In Tonggu you gave me a huge surprise, two Tonggu Campaigns, we have eliminated ten thousand Little Devils, right?"

Jiang Anguo watched from the side; clearly the Principal was in a good mood today, perhaps because of Dai Anlan, perhaps because of today's air battle.

But regardless, he and Dai Anlan should not be punished for disobeying orders.

One is a commander valued by the Principal, the other his own kin.

"Today's air battle, I listened to the whole thing on the radio! Twenty‑one to five! This is the most beautiful victory in the sky since we started the war!"

He first patted Dai Anlan's shoulder; the Principal may have already forgotten the recent air battle, how dangerous the two C-47 transport aircraft in the sky were.

Then his eagle‑sharp eyes locked firmly onto Jiang Anguo.

"Anguo, your Independent Regiment performed well in Myanmar," the Principal praised without reservation.

Because the earlier battle report had given all the credit for wiping out the 144th Regiment to Dai Anlan, and of course, Dai Anlan also explained that the Independent Regiment used artillery to eliminate most of them.

Dai Anlan at the time was also puzzled why it was reported that way, and Jiang Anguo was simply too lazy to explain the origin of the weapons.

The Principal's gaze swept him up and down, bearing a scrutinizing tone, but more so an unabashed admiration.

As the saying goes, family members don't speak ill of each other.