Before the British bomber pilots could react from the first blow, the second wave of blows from German anti-aircraft artillery followed. Another salvo of artillery groups, and the staggering high rate of fire of German anti-aircraft artillery was once again on display in front of the British. The shot was as precise as the last, and bright white bursting balls of light exploded simultaneously around the swarm, sending a dense rain of steel in all directions.

The already battered body was battered again, debris and smoke departed from the fuselage and dragged a long cloud of debris behind the tail, the engine was burning, the fuselage was burning, everything seemed to be starting to burn.

The bomber team, like a flock of firebirds, still insisted on maintaining a strict bombing formation at this moment, approaching the German position without hesitation, and in the face of such a heroic and tenacious enemy, the German gunners on the ground could not help but feel awe.

The shells on the automatic loading rack were again pushed into the chamber, and the shooter held down the firing lever and waited only for the commander to give the order to fire a salvo. It was at this moment that the British bomber group suddenly collapsed. Without warning, the three Wellington bombers in the center of the front row of the group suddenly lowered their noses and began to dive and slid around, and then the rest of the bombers began to maneuver separately, and the group spread out in all directions, like a swarm of swarms that had been disturbed, and the tight formation of the previous moment was instantly torn apart.

The British bomber pilots did their best to do all kinds of dazzling evasive maneuvers, the bomber on fire turned its nose and flew away from the German position, the crew began to jump out of the burning plane one after another, and snow-white umbrella flowers bloomed in the air, accompanied by thick gunpowder smoke flying all over the sky.

At this time, the Germans realized that it was not the British who were brave and tenacious, but because the blow came too quickly, the aircraft group was stunned, and it could not react for a while. When they regained their senses, of course, they would no longer be stupidly waiting in formation for the third fatal blow, and this was not an infantry battle line to shoot face to face. It is simply a unilateral massacre without fairness.

The commander of the British bomber group was an air force major, and he personally piloted the lead plane, and when he woke up from the stimulation of two successive fierce strikes, he immediately gave the order to disband the formation, and each crew could choose to continue to complete the task or retreat according to the situation of their own planes.

The lead captain was not too badly damaged due to the front of the queue, and his squad was still able to maintain basic handling compared to his subordinates who were struggling to turn. The three Wellingtons dived down to a height of 500 meters in succession, and then re-leveled the fuselage. The squad formed a triangular bombing formation, completed a side-slip turn under the leadership of the long plane, circled around the edge of the town for half a circle, adjusted course one last time, and headed at full speed in the direction of the beach.

The three Wellingtons each carried four 250-pound bombs, and the group commander was determined to give the Germans on the beach a taste of the suffering of the RAF, and at the same time avenge the death of those men who had just died.

Skimming through the alleys covered with Nazi red flags, the Air Force Major looked at the roof covered with a huge Nazi flag with disgust, and tried to resist the idea of dropping a bomb on it. Villages and towns were not the primary targets, the landing equipment and trestle ships on the beaches were the ones that had to be destroyed, not to mention the German anti-aircraft artillery positions there, which had to be destroyed before the next group of colleagues arrived. Otherwise, those who come after will surely repeat the mistakes of their own brigade.

The accuracy of the anti-aircraft fire was frightening, and the experienced flight commander decided that any squadron-sized attack would be doomed in that kind of fire.

Wellington continued to descend in elevation, sloping along the slope of the coast past the village only to hit the beachhead, where the Germans had already begun to release smoke on the beach. Patches of gray and white smoke covered the beach, and there were blinding arc lights everywhere, and the Commander never imagined that he would hate the light so much. From the cabin, it's impossible to see what's down there, or even where the coast meets the beach.

The RAF Major was still looking ahead when a series of metal chisels rang in his ears, and then a cloud of blood mist filled his eyes, and bright red liquid splattered onto the front windshield and instrument panel, where graffiti was smeared. The commander thought he had been shot, and he raised his hand in panic to stroke his chest and head, but he didn't notice anything wrong.

He turned his face to look at his co-pilot, only to find that the once handsome and dashing second lieutenant officer was now only half a head hanging from his neck, and blood was pouring out of the ruptured cavity like leaking hydraulic fluid, and the major felt the hairs on his entire back explode in the face of such a horrific sight.

Then there was a series of chisels, and sitting in the driver's seat, the major clearly heard the sound of the side window glass of the fuselage being shattered, the sound of tiny metal bouncing and crashing in the engine room, followed by the screams of the machine gunners in the rear cabin.

A series of flashes lit up from the side window of the cockpit, and the Air Force Major looked up, just in time to see an orange-red bullet chain running outside the cabin, followed by another one, a beautiful fan, and the fire whip slammed into the engine nacelle of the wingman on the right, and then a fireball suddenly flashed, and the commander quickly closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the wingman was tumbling and falling down, a wing snapping off from the engine, a short-circuited circuit connected to the in-flight radio, and the mournful screams of the wingman crew echoing through the headphones of the long plane.

There are small-caliber rapid-fire anti-aircraft guns on the ground, and apparently there are quite a few of them, which is a hell of a low-altitude hunting trap. The commander tore open his throat and roared, he pulled the steering wheel into his arms hard, pushed the throttle of the two engines full, and pulled the lever to hit the damper to the maximum, at this time he left behind all the tasks and responsibilities, he just wanted to leave this terrible hell immediately, he didn't want to be like the second lieutenant next to him.

"Drop the bomb, get rid of the damn bomb! It's a machine gun position, throw away the bombs, we're going to climb! ”

The commander shouted loudly, but received no response from the bombardier, he looked down in confusion towards the passage to the forward cabin, only to see that the transparent windshield and floor at the bottom of the front cabin had been torn a large hole, and the bombing sight who was supposed to be crouching there disappeared along with his sight, and the icy cold wind poured into the engine room from the breach, and there were several fist-sized holes in the back door of the front machine gun tower. The commander could imagine the scene behind that small door.

"What the hell!"

The commander looked up again, and by this time the heavy had stopped howling, giving the commander a terrifying guess that he might now be the only living occupant of the plane.

The Wellington long-plane miraculously burst out of the dense barrage of machine guns, and the remaining wingman in the formation was now planted headlong on the beach, turning into an expensive bonfire.

The commander pulled the heavy steering wheel hard, and the rudder surface of the plane had become somewhat uncontrollable, perhaps a few control lines were broken during the low-altitude raid ahead, but the commander believed that with his experience, he should be able to continue flying some distance. As long as there are no problems with these two engines, as long as they fly out of the German-controlled area, he can choose a gentle ground forced landing. The problem now was that he had to find a way to get rid of the bombs in the magazine, or else he would have to abandon the plane and parachute, which was the last thing he wanted to do, because it meant abandoning the bodies of his companions and leaving them to ashes along with the plane.

The Air Force Major opened the side window, and a cold wind blew in through the window. He poked his head out of the window and looked ahead, only to see a neatly arranged row of navigation lights flashing red and green in the sky directly in front of him.

"Attention, British group ahead, attention, here is the 4th Night Bomber Squadron. Beware of the Germans' large-caliber anti-aircraft guns, turn off the navigation lights and spread out the formation. There are also a large number of small-caliber machine guns on the ground, try not to go into low altitudes. Do you hear me? ”

The commander snapped on the radio receiver and shouted loudly, but he received no reply except for a static noise.

"This is ......" The commander made several repeated attempts, but the other party did not respond at all. The bomber group swaggered over the commander's plane and roared towards St. Margaret's beach.

"You can't just get over like this, you idiots!"

The captain pulled off the radiophone, he turned the steering wheel and began to turn, he was ready to catch up with the stupid nerds, he couldn't watch them rush into hell like this.

Just as Wellington was slowly turning, the commander suddenly felt that the weight of the steering wheel in his hand was light, and the left aileron of the plane suddenly began to tremble violently, and the control link on the wing surface finally broke, and the plane that was turning suddenly lost control, one wing sank suddenly, and the fuselage began to roll sideways, and then it buckled back. Wellington's engines let out a sharp whistling, and the bottom of the bomber sped upwards towards the ground, and with a violent explosion, a huge fireball rose up on the outskirts of Dover.

"Hey, did you see that? It's spectacular. A German sergeant major put down the binoculars in his hand, and he pointed to the fire burning in the distance and said to his comrades.

"It looks like there's a ton of explosives, and it's strange why he didn't drop it."

"The order has been given, and we begin the assault, following the vanguard platoon, keeping a distance. Gray wolf! Forward" At this time, on the command vehicle not far away, the commander of the assault artillery company gave the order to assault.

"Where exactly is the accompanying infantry? What about the 14th Reconnaissance Battalion? The company sergeant pressed the throat intercom and asked the company commander.

"There were two companies of infantry next to the woods a kilometer ahead of us, and a platoon of self-propelled infantry guns. The 14th Reconnaissance Battalion is gone, and they are being searched for above. The regimental headquarters especially reminded us that there are still some of our paratroopers nearby, and we must pay attention to identifying targets before firing. ”

"Understood, did the commanders hear that? Be sure to let them show their butts before shooting, and don't fire if it's white. ”

A frenzied burst of laughter echoed in the crowd, and the members of the assault gun crew slapped the armor plate vigorously.

"Alright, all attention, gray wolf! Advance! The company commander struggled to keep a straight face and waved his arm forward again.

The sergeant major patted his companion on the shoulder, and the latter lowered his head and slipped back into the hull of the No. 3 assault gun. With the roar of engines, nine No. 3 assault guns began to slowly accelerate as they rushed down the dirt slope, across the road, and toward the British line to the southwest. (To be continued......)