"They're back! Hide, get back to the bomb shelters! Major Bertrand shouted as he pointed to several girls who were bandaging the wounded.

The girls are nurses at Sainte-Marie's Hospital in France, and one of them is in a relationship with a communications soldier at the air station.

Today is the weekend, the girl brings a few good colleagues to the air station, and the female nurses seem to be looking forward to meeting a few handsome and romantic French pilots.

Major Bertrand only felt a little funny at the time, the girls were obviously in the wrong place, there was nothing handsome and romantic in the 65th Colony Reconnaissance Squadron, only a group of scruffy uncles in their forties who were full of wine and beards.

This squadron has a long history, and was one of the first flying units to be established in the French colonies, equipped with six light reconnaissance aircraft. Basically, they are all models improved from civil aircraft, but purely in terms of performance, they are quite unsatisfactory.

The F350 is a two-seater model of the famous F230 light aircraft, the former in the early thirties, is famous for setting a number of world long-range flight records, and the F430 is a well-known light transport aircraft, the French military used her to carry out trans-Mediterranean missions, from the mainland to the French Turk. The base in Nice transports personnel and liaisons.

These two aircraft were introduced into French Indochina as liaison aircraft, and after a trial, they were found to be very suitable for use as border reconnaissance aircraft, so they were issued to the 65th Squadron after installing some self-defense weapons on their own.

These planes are a few years old, the oldest one is eight years old, but the French crew is well maintained, and all aircraft are still flyable.

During this time, the situation on the border is becoming increasingly tense, and it seems that a war is likely to break out. This made the fighting spirit of those uncles of the 65th Squadron, who had been soaked in alcohol, begin to burn.

These pilots, who had always been regarded by Major Bertrand as a disgrace to the French Air Force, flew in patched civilian planes with frequent sorties, and they flew so wild that they violated almost all the flight safety regulations of the French Air Force, but these same fanatics were able to take a bunch of photos that made them very excited every time.

For example, on one occasion, a certain 430 was almost attached to the steel helmets of those Siamese soldiers, sweeping through the entire marching column, and the camera even clearly captured the frightened and distorted faces of the leading officers.

This group of guys acted every day, laughing at the incompetence of the Royal Siamese Air Force.

Major Bertrand felt a sense of foreboding, the Chinese have a saying called "often walk by the river, how can you not get your shoes wet." No matter how powerful the regiment is, there are times when the ship capsizes in the gutter, and during this time, the 65th Squadron has been a little too conspicuous. Bertrand thought that if he were the Royal Siam Air Force, he would definitely find an opportunity to retaliate against the 65th Squadron and save the face of what was left of them that was about to be trampled into the mud.

The Major anticipated the possibility of the Siamese launching an ambush against reconnaissance aircraft from the air and from the ground, since as a rule, these planes flew at low altitudes, generally not exceeding a thousand meters.

So every week he reminded his pilots at mission briefings to be more careful during their missions, never forgetting to search the sky above their heads and watch out for suspicious-looking bushes on the ground.

But what he didn't expect was that the Siamese had no intention of ambushing a certain plane at all, and they directly chose to attack the squadron's base, preparing to take the 65th squadron away.

At present, the Siamese plan seemed to have succeeded, and the 65th Squadron was completely unguarded, and when the enemy planes dived towards the air station from a high altitude, all six planes were neatly parked by the runway, and their bodies were still clean, like soldiers waiting for the general to review.

There is no fighter squadron stationed at the Sisophon air station, which is usually a dual-use airport with daily postal flights to Phnom Penh and a round-trip flight from Saigon on Wednesdays.

Fortunately, today's postal liner had already taken off, so when the bombing happened, there were not many civilians at the airport except for local staff.

The Royal Siam Air Force dispatched twelve single-engine bombers, the fuselage painted in the grass green used by the Siamese Air Force, and the rudder of the tail was painted with a red, white and blue identification strip, Bertrand had never seen this type of aircraft, and according to him, it should be the KI-30 that Siam had just bought from Japan.

The plane dives with great determination and the bombs are precisely placed, which is not like being piloted by a novice, but more like a group of highly trained pilots with real combat experience.

The Sythrophon Air Station was garrisoned by a French colonial garrison of about two companies, which were armed with seven 1930 1930 13.2 mm twin anti-aircraft machine guns and four 25 mm Haqikis anti-aircraft guns. This kind of close-in anti-aircraft fire was quite ferocious at the time, and once these anti-aircraft weapons were fully fired, they could weave a dense network of fire on both sides of the runway.

But the problem was that the two companies did not have a chance to open fire at all, and two 40-kilogram aerial bombs directly hit the canteen of the air defense company, where the rest of the officers and men, except for a squad of soldiers on duty at the machine-gun position, were waiting to receive lunch. One hundred and seven people were killed on the spot, fourteen were seriously wounded, and there were no minor wounded.

The Royal Siam Air Force apparently had made careful preparations before the attack, and in the first wave of bombardment, it succeeded in destroying the communication room of the air station, killing all six soldiers and two officers on duty in the communication room, while the commander of the air station, Colonel Martin, and the deputy commander, Lieutenant Colonel Gaston, who happened to be smoking at the door of the communication room, were seriously wounded.

After blowing up most of the important targets at the base, the Siam Air Force planes did not choose to evacuate quickly, but lowered their altitude and repeatedly strafed the French Air Force personnel on the ground with the 7.7 mm forward machine gun and a self-defense machine gun of the same caliber in the rear compartment.

The Siamese pilots flew their planes over the airfield from low altitude again and again, shooting at all the targets they could find, and the French were unable to organize effective resistance at all, so they could only run into the runway and the anti-aircraft trenches dug next to the base houses to avoid the attack.

The attackers raged over the airport for fifteen minutes, and finally left the battered air base contentedly under the background of billowing black smoke.

The burning wreckage of the plane rose with a black plume of smoke more than 200 meters high, and it was this smoke that Squadron Sporu saw high in the sky. In order to see more clearly, the German three-plane formation dived down at high speed.

Then the shrill engine whistle alarmed the survivors of the base, who mistakenly thought that the despicable sneak attackers had returned, and the French Air Force soldiers who were rescuing the wounded and fighting the fire in the open field began to look for concealment under the warning of the officers, only to see from the air scattered French soldiers in all directions, like a swarm of frightened ants.

A group of brave French soldiers finally found an opportunity to fight back, maneuvering anti-aircraft machine gun groups around the runway, and fired heavy fire at the three visitors. The Germans crashed headlong into a barrage of red tracer bullets in an unsuspecting situation, but fortunately the soldiers were not very enthusiastic about fighting, but the skills in their hands were not very good, and the three Mercedes Schmidt rushed out of the barrage at high speed, except for the pilots who were somewhat frightened, the three planes were completely unharmed.

"These French are shooting at us, sir, what the hell is going on?" In order to avoid the rain of bullets, Ensign Nemo made two horizontal rolls in succession, and the height dropped at least 200 meters at a rapid rate.

"Did the war break out again when we didn't know it?" Second Lieutenant Sara looked left and right, checking the wings on either side for injuries.

"White Three, White Four, how are you doing?" Shi Boru asked anxiously.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Nemo reported.

"Me too, they didn't hit me." Sara replied.

"I wasn't shot either." Sporu swayed his wings a few times.

"We need to figure out what's going on? It looks like the air station must have been attacked. Shi Boru buckled up his oxygen mask.

"They may have mistaken the person, as they had happened to the French front, where the guys on the ground would often shoot at everything that flew in their way because they panicked." Nemo offered his insights.

"yes, just like the one you shot down." Without hesitation, Second Lieutenant Sara gave her partner a shot.

"That time you were also beaten into a colander, if I hadn't been in your way, it would have been you who would have been beaten, you ungrateful fool!" Ensign Nemo retorted angrily.

"Alright, all shut up, regroup, let's turn back now, take care to stay high, and try to make them see our sign as clearly as possible."

Even through the radio, Major Spojou's voice was still chilling, and it was obvious that the major was enraged by the headless shot just now, and the two wingmen quickly closed their mouths while secretly praying for the unknown commander of the air station below.

ps: It's close to the end of the month, continue to ask for votes, it's time to vote for the saved monthly pass, thank you for your support. (To be continued.) )