White piloted his fighter jet and finally managed to see the coastline in the distance. Pen %Fun %Pavilion www.biquge.info There was already a faint light smoke in his cockpit, which he had only discovered when he returned home.

After a brief examination, he found that his plane was handling reasonably well, and it was possible that some bullets had hit unimportant positions, causing his plane to malfunction a little.

Suddenly, his engine began to wheez, and the rotation of the propellers began to become irregular. The plane that insisted on bringing him here on the battlefield finally malfunctioned.

"Baby! Don't do that! Baby! Hold on! I'm almost home! White prayed as he tried to get the plane's engine back up again.

Unfortunately, the engine did not resume operation after all, but stopped in the sky. White had to watch carefully, piloting his own plane and leaving the makeshift formation.

Then, his plane began to lose altitude, and after a few attempts, White also had to give up the attempt and lift his hatch.

A cold wind rushed into White's cockpit, and White climbed out of the cabin, only to see the side of his plane's engine, leaving a row of twisted machine gun bullet holes.

Just looking at the bullet holes, I don't know if it was a friendly machine gun or a German machine gun, but the damage did make the plane completely scrapped.

Choosing the right angle, White kicked his plane away with a nervous kick, he pulled his parachute with feeling, and waited for the parachute to open.

The cold wind of the hunt blew in his ears, and the goggles blocked the knife-like wind from hitting White's eyes, allowing him to see everything that was happening around him.

He saw his fighter staggering down in the distance, and another Wellington bomber crashing headlong into the shoreline, causing a tragic explosion.

Even, for a moment, it seemed as if he could hear his own breathing, he could hear his own heartbeat, the dull ringing.

Then, suddenly, a force came from his back, and the huge pull made his descent stagnate suddenly.

White saw his parachute open in the sky, and he saw the returning friendly planes overhead, one after the other.

Originally, when they flew to German targets, they were almost twice as numerous as they are now; At this moment, all that's left is what is in front of you.

A sea breeze blows in his face, and White finds that the sea breeze is not enough to send him to the shoreline. If he continues to fall like this, it is estimated that he will fall directly into the sea.

It is not enough to drown, because he has a life jacket that must be equipped when crossing the sea, but under such weather conditions, falling into the icy sea water is definitely not a comfortable thing.

On the shore, Army soldiers patrolling the shore had spotted White who had parachuted, and they were pointing on the ground and running towards the place where White had fallen.

Another icy sea breeze hits, and White finally finds himself landing on land instead of the hapless sea.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and then his feet hit the reef on the shore, and the pain came at once, causing him to fall to the beach, his face hitting the ground, and his mouth full of sand.

"Sir!" Someone helped him lift the parachute fastened above his head, and in front of him was a young soldier with a butterfly steel helmet, saluting White.

The ranks of the Air Force were significantly higher than those of the Army, and perhaps the Army officer who managed all the nearby Army patrols was not necessarily higher than White's.

"Hello!" White arranged his shirt in embarrassment and replied to the Army soldier's salute in embarrassment.

Frankly, he doesn't look good right now. Being shot down in front of everyone, and then parachuting, is not a good thing to show off.

But he quickly rejoiced, and then fell to his knees on the beach like a loss of strength, and laughed out loud desperately: "Hahahahaha! ”

Under the horrified eyes of a dozen Army soldiers, White kissed the ground beneath his feet, and then frantically shouted, "I'm back!" I came back alive! ”

Those who have not experienced the air battle in Brest will not experience this feeling. They lost more than eighty percent of their Hurricane fighters, as well as downed P-40s and Spitfires.

These losses made every pilot who returned alive weep bitterly, and it was absolutely God's favor that they were able to come back.

White was a lucky pilot, he used his superb flying skills, as well as his luck against the sky, to persevere to the end and become the lucky one who came back alive.

Excited, he raised his head to the sky and roared, venting the emotions in his heart. How many people may never come back, never be able to return to their homeland.

God forbid! More returning planes appeared in the sky above White's head, and White seemed to feel that something was wrong, but he didn't know what he was afraid of.

He looked at the sky carefully, and when he saw his familiar figure, he suddenly realized that these bombers were flying back with them!

"Stuka!" He looked in shock at the German planes that were following the British bombers back, and exclaimed, "That's the German plane!" ”

Not only Stuka, but also the British planes that returned home, including the JU-88 and the HE-111, anyway, the Luftwaffe sent all the planes that could be found this time.

Kesselring had already left Brest a plan for a counterattack, waiting for the opportunity for the British plane to return.

German fighters taking off from front-line airfields returned after crushing British bomber forces, and JU-88s and HE-111s, which took off from these airfields on bombing missions, would follow the British bombers directly into the British mainland.

The mission of these planes was to bomb the ground field airfields that had been recovered and returned from the planes.

Although this kind of tailgating action cannot completely conceal the opponent's early warning system, it can also minimize the reaction time.

The Luftwaffe wanted this short time difference so that its bomber forces could destroy some of the British front-line field airfields.

Although the results of such a counterattack should not be significant, it can still put some pressure on the enemy.

In fact, this counterattack by the Luftwaffe was really not successful. Although Britain was unable to take off many fighters to intercept it due to the time difference, the Luftwaffe itself, because of the time difference, was unable to carry out large-scale escorts.

Several German planes were shot down, and the counterattack ended hastily, and the German bomber forces destroyed only a few airfields, and then had to choose to return and leave despite the interception of the British Royal Air Force.

On the ground, White walked on a forest trail and looked at the returning German bombers overhead.

He saw the anti-aircraft gun positions in the woods firing constantly, and he saw the blocking balloons bobbing in the wind by the beach—the war was really chaotic, so chaotic that it made him a little confused.

Originally, he was supposed to intercept the enemy's plane in the sky, but he ended up standing on the ground and became a spectator, and he was supposed to go on an offensive mission, but he saw with his own eyes what his homeland was like being attacked by others.

"Sir! Your documents have been confirmed...... But the bombing has caused chaos, and we have no way of proving your true identity. The captain of the Army's patrol handed White back his ID and said with an apologetic tone.

The spies of the Germans were a headache for the British, so they had to be carefully screened for those who parachuted or swam to shore.

White reluctantly handed over his pistol, and then followed the patrol to a nearby barracks to wait for the verification process.

Sometimes it takes 3 days to verify, and sometimes it takes 7 days or more. The hapless fellows in custody can only wait, like prisoners of war, for the final result.

"The Germans are getting stronger now...... There were at least 60 planes in the bombing just now, right? While checking White's pistol, and the bullets inside, the captain of the army patrol, chatted.

White nodded and agreed: "Almost, at least 60, maybe 80, all of which are numbers that Germany often sorts out." ”

……

In the office of the head of state of the Chancellery in Berlin, Germany, Baumann walked to Li Le's desk with a smile on his face and a smile.

He stood up and saluted, then handed the document to the Führer, who was waiting for news: "My Führer! The battle of Brest had just been decided, and we repelled the attack of the British. ”

"How's it going?" Li Le nodded with satisfaction, and the "radar-fighter" air defense system that he had painstakingly managed finally lived up to expectations and showed its due power.

"The number of shootdowns is being counted, our losses are about 90 aircraft, and the losses of the British are more than 350!" Bowman exaggerated a statistic.

Li Le laughed, then closed the record in front of him, shook his head and said: "The data of the Air Force, take out one-third of it as water, and the remaining eighty percent is true." ”

His words amused Bowman, and the Führer's secretary nodded with a smile and said innoccupially: "You know Marshal Goering, and I think they themselves know this." ”

Exaggerating the battle record, this is something that all troops do more or less once in a while. If you look at a country's war report unilaterally, it is estimated that there will be a lot of jokes.

Not to mention that the shameless Japan turned into thousands of miles to annihilate the enemy, just talking about the bullshitty X that the United States bragged about in the Gulf War can be described as innumerable......

"Let them count carefully, don't exaggerate too much......" Li Le handed the document back to Bowman, and opened his mouth to put forward his own opinion.

This kind of thing is related to morale and rewards, and it cannot be completely exaggerated by the people below, nor can it be traced too strictly-the heat needs to be mastered......