Chapter 338: The Attack Begins in the Air, P-38 Takes Off

"All units, attention," William's voice sounded again over the radio, this time clearly infused with a sense of honor, exclaiming passionately, "The Commander is watching us. Repeat, the Commander is watching us. Win this battle, escort the crossing vessels safely to Yichang. Keep formation, follow me, let's give the dock a bath!"

William also saw those transport boats on the southern bank of the Yangtze River, bearing his own side's flags; William could not mistake them.

"Copy!"

"For victory!"

"Follow the Captain, damn it!"

Responses poured in, morale soaring over the airwaves.

William took a deep breath; the cockpit, tinged with metal and oil, sharpened his alertness.

He firmly grasped the control stick, feeling every vibration transmitted from the "Lightning" twin‑fuselage.

The nose dipped, the P-38's distinctive twin‑tail structure like a giant eagle spreading steel wings, in an almost provocative stance, diving toward the Yichang dock.

The altitude gauge's needle spun rapidly, the ground scenery enlarged in an instant; the Yangtze River, dock, buildings, streets shifted from blurry patches to clear outlines, even the piles of boxes on the dock's pier and the scurrying silhouettes could be seen, those tan‑colored figures belonging to the Japanese Army.

The dive's overload pressed his body, yet William's muscles were in peak combat condition.

His gaze locked onto the largest warehouse at the dock's center and the few ships moored nearby. The sight's crosshair steadily encompassed the target.

"Ghost Squadron, attack commence!"

As the aircraft skimmed over the anti‑aircraft positions at the dock's edge, the few guns there seemed just to react, their barrels jerking anxiously, William's thumb pressed steadily and forcefully the red bomb‑release button atop the stick.

"Bzz— crack!"

A faint mechanical release sound echoed through the airframe.

On both wings, two 250‑pound AN-M57 high‑explosive bombs broke free from their racks, following the preset parabola toward the Japanese‑occupied ground below.

Trailing William's long‑range aircraft, another twenty‑three P-38s, like a flock obeying a lead goose, entered the bomb‑release lanes in succession. In an instant, dozens of black death‑points peeled from under the wings, swarming toward the dock.

On the ground, the Japanese Army's dock defense troops were not entirely oblivious.

The distant, rapidly approaching low thunder from the sky had already caught some veterans' attention, and a mournful alarm blared at the last moment. Yet everything was too fast.

From spotting the black speck in the sky to the bomb's arrival, the time was dreadfully brief.

Many Japanese soldiers had just burst from barracks or shelters, looking up bewildered.

They saw the silver‑shimmering formation under the sun, a level of excellence and majesty beyond what most Japanese pilots could imagine. Then they watched those silver birds "lay eggs" from their bellies.

"Air raid—!"

"Take cover!!"

The terrified Japanese shouts were instantly drowned by an even louder roar.

William's first bomb, true to the mark, pierced straight into the roof of that massive warehouse piled with ammunition and fuel drums.

Boom—!!!

First a blinding, sun‑like fireball expanded, followed by an ear‑splitting, organ‑shattering explosion!

The flames were orange‑red mixed with eerie white, the thick smoke instantly forming a massive black mushroom, dragging shattered planks, twisted metal, and unidentifiable wreckage skyward.

The shockwave formed a perfect circle, raging outward; wherever it passed, simple wooden shacks were torn and flung like paper, and the dock's concrete floor sprouted spider‑web cracks.

That explosion sounded like the opening, loudest note of a symphony of destruction.

Then the second, third, fourth… countless 250‑pound and some 500‑pound bombs followed, raining down on every corner of the dock.

Boom! Rumble! Boom—!!!

The explosions merged into a single roar, indistinguishable from one another.

The massive roar echoed over the Yangtze River surface, even drowning out the torrent of the river itself.

The entire Yichang dock, along with its surrounding annexes, was instantly engulfed by fire, thick smoke, and frantic explosions.

A bomb struck beside a barge, a massive water column mixed with hull fragments shooting up ten meters, the barge was blown clean in half and capsized swiftly.

Another bomb hit the mountain‑high military supply pile, likely containing food, clothing, weapon parts, now all turned into burning trash and scattering shrapnel.

Yet another bomb fell directly on a densely packed area of Japanese soldiers; in an instant, severed limbs, broken weapons, and dust were hurled upward, then mixed with a rain of blood as they fell.

"Ah—!"

"Help!"

"My leg!"

"Medic!!"

The Japanese's screams, wails, and chaotic commands were faintly audible between the deafening blasts, only to be quickly covered by the next wave of explosions.

The panicked Japanese soldiers fleeing the warehouses were like ants drenched in boiling water, crashing about like headless flies.

Some rushed toward the Riverbank, trying to jump into the water, only to be struck by the blast‑raised waves and debris; others tried to hide in a shelter half‑collapsed by the explosion, only to be buried by the ensuing collapse; more ran across the open ground, then were flipped by the sweeping shockwave or pierced by sharp shrapnel, collapsing onto the earth.

Burning fuel streamed along the dock, forming raging flames on the water surface, sealing off some routes to the river.

Thick smoke blotted the sky, turning the morning heavens into a dirty gray‑black, the air thick with acrid gunpowder and a metallic scent of blood.

In the sky, the P-38 fighter aircraft formation that had completed the first bomb run rose gracefully, climbing back to a safe altitude.

William maneuvered his fighter into a sleek barrel roll; looking from the rear‑side of the cockpit, the Yichang dock below had become a blazing inferno.

Fierce flames burned in several spots, black smoke columns rose, the once‑busy dock facilities now reduced to twisted skeletons and burning wreckage.

Scattered Japanese anti‑aircraft fire flickered in the thick smoke, sparse and frantic, posing no real threat to the "Lightning" aircraft formation already at altitude.

"Ghost No. 1 calling all aircraft, bomb run complete. Formation climbing, departing on the planned route. Observe surrounding airspace, stay alert for enemy aircraft," William's voice returned to its initial calm, issuing the exit orders. Mission accomplished, but the war never ends; vigilance must be maintained to the end.

"Ghost No. 2 copy, climbing."

"Eleven copy, Captain, below is truly a sea of fire! Beautiful!" The voices remained excited.

William gave the burning ground one last glance, gently nudged the stick, the P-38's nose turned east, heading back along the return route.

Behind him, the twenty‑three "Lightning" aircraft followed, carving twenty‑four clear contrail lines across the sky streaked with gunpowder traces.

William's first squadron completed the first wave of attack; Yichang dock had fallen, the rest left to the ground forces.

Yet his mission was not finished; the P-38's 20 mm cannons and 12.7 mm machine‑gun ammunition were not expended, and another wave of enemies awaited their baptism.