Chapter 259: P‑38

May 26, 1942, 10:21 a. m.

When the formation of aircraft swept over the sky above Jinhua, a scene of hell unfolded below.

The Chinese Army positions on the ground were at this moment being devoured by raging fire and thick smoke.

The Japanese Army's "Type 97" bombers flew in a loose V formation, like a flock of greedy bald eagles, diving down again and again.

The aerial bombs they dropped exploded between the trenches and shelters, sending towering pillars of fire skyward; soil, rubble and human limbs were hurled high into the air, then fell like a downpour.

Beside the Machine Gun Position, a Chinese soldier was operating a Czech‑style machine gun, futilely sweeping at the sky, yet their bullets could not even reach the belly of the bombers.

A Type 97 bomber roared down, its belly releasing small bombs that fell like hail; the light machine gun and its gunner were instantly engulfed by the exploding flash.

On the ground, the surviving soldiers ran and roared amid the smoke, but more soldiers fell into pools of blood, motionless.

After the Japanese Army bombers finished dropping their payloads, they did not even hurry to pull up; instead they used the aircraft's cannons to sweep the living things on the ground, reveling in this one‑sided slaughter.

A few escort Type 96 fighters circled nearby, occasionally performing an elegant barrel roll, as if applauding their comrades.

Their arrogance was the greatest desecration of the ground's fallen souls.

"Did you see that?" William's voice came over the radio to every member of the "Ghost" squadron, cold as ice, "Below are our comrades, our land."

That sentence astonishingly came from the mouth of someone who looked like an American.

The P‑38 "Lightning" he was piloting had long broken away from the C‑47 transport formation; now it circled at nine kilometers altitude, like a deity hovering above the clouds, coldly overlooking the atrocities below.

"They think they're hunters," William's thumb lightly brushed the fire button on the stick, "Now we'll make them understand who the prey is in this sky."

"Ghost squad, free attack! Bring them down one by one!"

The moment the order was given, William thrust the control stick forward; the P‑38 "Lightning's" two Allison engines roared deafeningly, and the nose pitched down at a startling angle.

The massive overload pressed William hard against his seat, yet his expression did not change; his gaze was as sharp as a blade.

The aircraft streaked like a black meteor, trailing a white tail, straight into the heart of the Japanese Army formation.

Commander, the Army Aviation Squadron's Company Captain Nishizawa Hirotsugu looked smugly as another position below turned into a sea of fire.

The Imperial Japanese Empire's air force raged like a pack of wolves.

"Nani?"

He only saw to the east, where the sun rose, countless points of light flickering in the sky, as if deities had opened angry eyes. The next second, those points turned into streaks of death, rushing toward him at a speed the naked eye could barely track!

"Enemy attack! High‑altitude enemy attack! Evade! Evade quickly!"

Nishizawa's roar rang through the channel, but it was all too late.

William's reticle locked firmly onto Nishizawa's aircraft. He showed no mercy, decisively pressing the button.

Tatatatata—!

Four 12.7 mm machine guns and one 20 mm cannon fired simultaneously, a dense chain of fire instantly tearing the air.

Nishizawa's Type 96 fighter was as if seized by an invisible giant hand; its wings and fuselage were instantly riddled with holes, spraying large sparks.

He didn't even have time to bail; the whole aircraft exploded in mid‑air, turning into a brilliant, deadly firework.

First strike, and a head is severed!

"Well hit!" excited shouts from wingmen rang through the channel.

The pilots, morale soaring, searched for their prey.

The remaining Japanese pilots fell into complete panic.

Their prideful maneuverability became a joke before the P‑38's "one‑shot disengage" tactic.

They could not even locate the enemy aircraft, only watching helplessly as comrades exploded one after another in the sky.

The P‑38 Lightning's ultra‑high speed, reaching up to 667 km/h, far outpaced the Little Devil's fighters.

Of course, sustained high‑speed flight is hard on the engines, but Jiang Anguo has no shortage of aircraft.

After William's hit, he showed no desire to linger; he yanked the nose up, and the P‑38 traced a graceful arc in the sky, instantly climbing back to high altitude.

He looked down at the chaotic Japanese bomber swarm, as if inspecting his own prey.

Those clumsy Type 97 bombers, stripped of escort, were like toothless tigers, panicking and scattering. They flailed their bulky bodies in a desperate attempt to evade, but to William it was merely a futile struggle.

The Chinese Army on the ground, watching the downed aircraft, could not have imagined that the Little Devil, so brazen moments ago,

was now being chased and shot down.

"It's our aircraft."

Ground soldiers, seeing the aircraft tangled in the air, began shouting.

"Dammit!"

"Die, Little Devil!"

"Air Force, it's our Air Force."

The ground troops' morale surged dramatically as the aerial battle intensified.

In the sky, Japanese aircraft fell one after another.

William dove again; this time his target was a Type 97 trying to slip into the clouds.

He entered from the bomber's side‑rear, a perfect firing position. The Japanese Army's Machine Gunner frantically swiveled his turret, yet his bullets could not even touch the P‑38's shadow.

William fired again.

The bullets sliced precisely into the left engine of the Type 97 bomber. The engine first belched black smoke, then erupted in raging fire, like a torch ignited.

The entire bomber went out of control, spiraling toward the ground; before it crashed, objects kept falling from the cabin—bombs that had been ejected and desperate soldiers.

In just a few minutes, the sky over Jinhua transformed from the Japanese hunting ground—still so brazen—to one that resembled a cat spotting a mouse.

This sky instantly became their cemetery.

William and his "Ghost" squadron, with a sweeping, exhilarating slaughter, declared to all enemies:

"This sky has changed hands."

The aerial combat continued; the Japanese temporary commander immediately signaled, ordering fighters to cover the bombers' retreat. Little Devil bombers were few, making them even more precious.

Clearly, this Japanese soldier's temporary Commander responded well, securing retreat time for the Little Devil (Japanese soldier)'s bomber.

William watched the departing Little Devil (Japanese soldier) Type 97 bomber, and said inside the radio station: "Clear the Japanese Army from the air, no pursuit needed, protect 'baby bottle', conduct Air Drop mission."