"What the hell is that?!"
On a Wellington bomber, pilot Arnold stared in astonishment as a group of German fighters intercepting them launched what looked like torpedoes, trailing white smoke from their tails.
Although those things were flying towards the bomber formation, they seemed to lack accuracy, with the closest "torpedo" to his aircraft still dozens of meters away.
"Boom!"
Before he could even feel relieved, a "torpedo" exploded suddenly in the air, just over ten meters away to his right, sending small and large metal fragments flying like a storm in all directions.
These "torpedoes" were one of Wilhelm's specially prepared interception weapons for enemy bombers, equipped with radio proximity fuzes, air-to-air rockets.
Amidst the crackling impacts, something warm splattered onto Arnold's face, and an unusually pungent smell of blood permeated the cockpit.
"..." Instinctively turning his head, Arnold was horrified to see that half of his co-pilot's head had been sheared off by a piece of shrapnel. White, red, yellow... brain matter spilled out from the half of the skull that hung limply.
"Oh, shit, oh shit, shit..." Unable to contain his shock, he cursed dozens of times in a row. He swore he had never seen such a gruesome and disgusting sight in his life; he was so scared he almost vomited on the spot.
As he frantically wiped away the substance from his face, the engine on the right suddenly made a strange gurgling sound, and the propeller slowed down, eventually coming to a stop!!
"Oh, damn it!" Arnold didn't know if today was the day he cursed the most, but he was sure it was his unluckiest day ever!
He couldn't care less about wiping the substance off his face now; he fumbled with the various control buttons, trying to restart the engine on the right. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, it was in vain; the plane was slowly tilting to one side.
"It's okay, it's okay, you can fly back with just one engine." He muttered to himself in self-comfort, just as he reached for the communicator to report to the lead that they needed to return, he heard black smoke suddenly billowing out from the left engine!
"Oh, damn it!" He had no choice but to shut down the left engine, controlling the aircraft to enter a glide. Otherwise, when the aircraft lost control and rolled over, it would be impossible for the crew to bail out.
"All crew, bail out! Repeat, the aircraft is out of control, all crew, bail out!!" Arnold had just issued the order to abandon the aircraft to the crew when navigator Hunter shouted, "Bail out here?! We're in the middle of the Channel; no matter where we drift, we won't reach the shore!!" It was winter, and no one could swim several kilometers or even dozens of kilometers in the cold sea.
Now Arnold was completely at a loss. "Then what do you suggest?"
Hunter remained calm and immediately issued a series of commands. "You continue to control the aircraft. David, quickly drop the bombs, as well as anything else movable in the aircraft. Get rid of the machine guns too, and throw down everything except the life jackets. Reduce the weight as much as possible."
As the people in the cabin frantically threw things out, a German torpedo boat spotted the bomber on the sea surface.
"Hey, look at that bomber!" Several naval soldiers pointed and shouted at the silent Wellington bomber flying overhead.
"Quick! Operate the 40mm cannon and shoot it down." This torpedo boat was equipped with a twin-mounted 40mm Bofors anti-aircraft gun and a twin-mounted 12.7mm machine gun, more than capable of dealing with such a close-range bomber.
The deputy captain of the torpedo boat immediately intervened. "Wait, look, the propellers of that aircraft have stopped; obviously, it's malfunctioning. It looks like they're going to make a forced landing on the sea surface; let's go capture them."
As they spoke, everyone saw the belly of the bomber open up, first dropping two large bombs, followed by various miscellaneous items such as machine guns, ammunition boxes, backpacks, and so on.
Meanwhile, Hunter on the bomber also spotted the torpedo boat on the sea surface. "Hey, there's a German torpedo boat down there. We're making a forced landing here. David, find a white cloth to hang at the firing port to avoid being shot to pieces by them."
"Watch out for impact!!" Several seconds later, the belly of the bomber fiercely struck the sea surface, and the force of the water rebounded far beyond everyone's imagination, leaving everyone dizzy and disoriented. If it weren't for the restraint of the safety belts, Arnold felt he would have been thrown up and had his head smashed. But the safety belt also tightly squeezed his waist, causing unbearable pain as if it was going to cut him in half.
Fortunately, this type of bomber had a strong iron body, extremely resilient and capable of withstanding damage that other aircraft couldn't endure. If it had been a wooden Mosquito bomber, such an impact would have definitely shattered it.
Just as they were recovering from the shock, David shouted, "The Germans are coming over!"
"Did you hang out the white cloth?"
"It's already up."
"Let's not do anything that might make the Germans misunderstand. Put on your life jackets and leave here." Water was already seeping into the cabin, and it wouldn't be long before the bomber sank.
Arnold unfastened his seatbelt and stood up. As he stepped out of the cockpit, he turned back, tore down the photo of the copilot's girlfriend stuck on the dashboard, and, fighting back nausea, retrieved a pocket watch, a handkerchief, and a diary from the copilot's pocket. "I'll try to pass these things on to your family."
By the time he had packed these items into a plastic bag, the water had submerged his ankles.
Arnold walked towards the cabin door, wading into the icy seawater, and swam towards the nearby torpedo boat.
Grabbing onto the rope thrown down from the torpedo boat, he climbed aboard and was ushered into the cabin.
"Arnold, hurry up and take off your clothes to avoid catching a cold." By now, his crewmates had already taken off their soaking wet clothes, wrapped themselves in thick German blankets, and held cups of hot coffee.
Arnold was shivering from the cold and quickly removed his clothes. The Germans handed him a thick blanket and poured him a cup of hot coffee.
After taking a few sips, Arnold saw the Germans bring a large hemp sack and start stuffing their discarded clothes into it. He didn't know whether the Germans intended to throw away these clothes or not, so he quickly asked his companions, "Does anyone here speak German?"
Several people shook their heads in confusion, but one of the German soldiers guarding them at the cabin door spoke up. "I speak English. What do you need?"
Arnold breathed a sigh of relief and pointed to the clothes about to be thrown into the sack. "Sir, there are mementos of my recently deceased friend in those clothes. I'd like to pass them on to his family."
The German soldier took the plastic bag and inspected its contents. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he took it away and soon returned, tossing the plastic bag to Arnold. "No problem, you should be able to send it from the prisoner-of-war camp."
"Thank you." Taking the plastic bag, Arnold asked cautiously, "Sir, what are the conditions like in the prisoner-of-war camp? Can we survive until the end of the war?"
"What kind of question is that?" The German soldier looked speechless. "Do you think we would mistreat prisoners of war? Do you have any skills?"
Of course, flying planes. But the German soldier definitely didn't mean that. Arnold thought for a moment and realized he did have a skill. "My father is a carpenter, and I learned carpentry from him. Does that matter?"
"It matters a lot. People with skills are treated differently in the prisoner-of-war camp and live quite well. I've heard that not only do they get meat to eat every now and then, but they also have leisure time to read books, watch movies, play football, basketball, and so on."
Leisure time? "And what about those without skills?"
The German soldier shrugged. "They'll have to do manual labor. As long as you don't cause trouble and work obediently, you'll still have a decent life."
Even before the V3 cannon base was completed, the German army had deployed nearly 200 fighter planes nearby. Now, as the battle progressed, not only did these 200 fighters take to the air to meet the enemy, but fighters from other airfields also joined the fray one after another.
At this point, the number of German fighter planes had exceeded the total number of British fighter planes and bombers, overwhelming the British air force in both performance and quantity, leaving them in a considerably passive position.
Dozens of bombers had already been shot down, and they hadn't even seen the enemy's cannon base in the distance, yet they had already paid a heavy price.
Inside the British mainland command center, Commanders Hewitt and Hugh Dowding listened to the successive reports of losses, feeling as anxious as ants on a hot pan.
"Damn it, this is clearly a bait!" Commander Hewitt couldn't help but complain. "I said earlier that the Germans would definitely deploy heavy forces there, and we stupidly walked right into it!"
In fact, everyone knew that this attack would come at a heavy cost. Only if the Germans were foolish would they leave such an important place undefended, allowing British aircraft to take advantage.
But it wasn't until now that they truly realized the sacrifices and costs estimated earlier were too optimistic.
Commander Dowding's expression was even worse. Because the losses in his fighter squadron were even greater than those of the bombers. He was more inclined than Commander Hewitt to recall the fighter squadrons to minimize losses.
After pacing back and forth for a few rounds, Commander Hewitt suddenly brought up another matter. "Lord Dowding, do you think the lifespan of these German cannons will be short?"
Just like the "Paris Gun" during the last war, although it seemed formidable, it had a fatal weakness. Its barrel had a short lifespan, only able to fire about 50 rounds. After a certain period of use, the cannon's barrel needed to be replaced and sent to the factory for maintenance. Thus, the more it was used, the larger the barrel diameter became, from the original 210mm to later 260mm, necessitating a corresponding change in shell caliber. Moreover, although this cannon had a long range, its accuracy was extremely poor. Therefore, after about 140 days of use, the German army abandoned this type of cannon.
Commander Dowding's eyes lit up upon hearing this. Yes, even if they ignored it, perhaps the German artillery would be abandoned after some time of bombardment.
"Perhaps we should talk to the Prime Minister about it. We shouldn't waste these precious pilots in vain." Just as they were discussing how to persuade Churchill, a distant muffled explosion sounded again.
Just as the two were discussing how to convince Churchill, the phone on the desk suddenly rang.
"What?!" Commander Dowding's face changed drastically as he picked up the phone and listened for a few sentences, then he turned to Hewitt, who looked puzzled, and said, "A shell hit Buckingham Palace..."
"What?!" Commander Hewitt was equally shocked. "Is Her Majesty all right?!"
"They're fine." Commander Dowding hung up the phone and shook his head. "They're all in the basement, and they're not injured."
It's a coincidence that during the original timeline of World War II, the British royal family also narrowly escaped death from German bombing.
Around 11 a.m. on September 13, 1940, a German bomber flew low over the British capital, taking advantage of the cover of clouds, suddenly appearing over Buckingham Palace and quickly dropping five high-explosive bombs.
At that time, King George VI and his wife Queen Elizabeth were having tea. However, when the sound of the plane reached their ears, their actions were relatively quick. Just as they rushed into the corridor to avoid the blast wave of the explosion, two bombs had already fallen into the courtyard of Buckingham Palace and exploded just a few meters away from where they were having tea. The other three bombs, although not as dangerous, also destroyed a chapel, creating several large craters.
Although Buckingham Palace was bombed nine times during the entire war, this was undoubtedly the most dangerous time. If the reaction of the King and Queen had been slightly slower, the consequences would have been unimaginable. It can be said that during the war, this was the closest the British monarch came to death, just a step away.
It is understood that this bombing was not accidental, but one of the plans of the German High Command. They intended to pressure Britain by bombing Buckingham Palace, making them feel despair and eventually surrender.
However, the subsequent developments fully demonstrated that Germany was indeed trying to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, but ended up shooting itself in the foot, making a fool of itself. Because this bombing of theirs not only failed to sow seeds of despair and failure in Britain but instead aroused a spirit of unity against the enemy from the King to the ordinary people.
But for Dowding and his colleague, this news was simply the worst of the worst. If there had been room for negotiation before, now with Buckingham Palace, the symbol of the British Empire's highest authority and dignity, being bombed, the Prime Minister would never agree to withdraw those aircraft squadrons.
Not only would they not withdraw, but Churchill would definitely not rest until those cannons were destroyed.
Sure enough, not long after, a staff member rushed in to report, "Commander Hewitt, the Prime Minister just called to prepare for night bombing."
"Night bombing?" Commander Hewitt's mouth twitched slightly, really wanting to go and question Churchill if he was willing to sacrifice all of the British Empire's bombers?!
But in the end, he could only weakly wave his hand. "Understood, go and make arrangements."
By now, the aerial battle over the Channel had entered its final frenzy.
The British fighter force was completely disorganized, with all formations such as lead aircraft, wingman, small formations, and squadrons being scattered. The radio was filled with the chaotic shouts of friendly aircraft, but now no one cared about anyone else. British pilots had forgotten all tactical rules; now they were just mechanically controlling their planes and attacking the nearest enemy aircraft.
In contrast, German fighter pilots were becoming more courageous, more skilled, and more coordinated with each passing moment, almost reaching a state of perfect harmony.
In this situation, British fighter aircraft could only fall one after another.
And the losses were equally heavy for British bombers. With the escort fighters struggling to protect themselves, they could rely only on their own defensive armament.
The defensive armament of the Blenheim bombers consisted of two 7.7mm caliber machine guns mounted under the nose and one 7.7mm caliber machine gun at the rear of the fuselage. The Wellington medium bombers were equipped with two Browning 7.7mm machine guns in each turret at the nose, tail, and wing beams.
Such defensive firepower was nothing but a drizzle to German fighter pilots. Despite the machine gunners on the bombers firing frantically, they still couldn't escape the fate of being shot down.
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