SFS Chapter 474: Firepower Coverage
Chapter 474: Firepower Coverage
It is only 600KM from Kuala Lumpur to Palembang.
If the airport north of the Johor Strait is completed, the distance will be shortened to 400KM.
Such a short distance gives the People's Army Air Force unparalleled tactical flexibility.
They could even organize a large-scale bombing in the morning, plow through the ground targets, and then leisurely return to have lunch, refuel, and load bombs.
Then, in the afternoon, we would organize another wave of "follow-up visits" depending on the situation, so that the Japanese who had managed to escape the first disaster would completely collapse.
As long as the weather is fine, except for the core oil fields and refinery areas, the sky of Palembang is almost always raining "death rain" composed of TNT and flames.
Just like at this moment, the first black dots appeared on the edge of the skyline, and they quickly expanded into a heart-pounding shadow.
The roar of the piston engine came from far away, from a low hum to a roar that tore through the air, and finally converged into a heart-stopping symphony of death that enveloped the entire earth.
"Enemy planes are coming, hide quickly!" On the ground, the Japanese sergeant's hoarse roar was instantly drowned out by the sound of bombs whistling down.
High in the sky, the B-17 fleet was like a moving steel castle, making the Japanese on the ground feel extremely depressed and nervous.
The lead plane dropped a series of bombs first, like an invitation to death.
Immediately afterwards, the belly bomb bay doors of each aircraft burst open.
The first wave of bombs broke away from the racks and fell vertically towards the predetermined target area, a large Japanese supply warehouse near the dock, with a sharp and piercing whistling sound, like dense black hail.
There were so many bombs in the sky that they formed a string.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Every Japanese soldier on the ground who witnessed this scene had his pupils shrink suddenly and opened his mouth in despair, but could not make any sound.
Boom! Boom boom boom——!!!
Deafening explosions rang out in succession.
The earth shook and groaned violently, and rows of orange-red fireballs wrapped in thick black smoke shot up into the sky, instantly engulfing the target warehouse.
The shock wave was like an invisible hammer, spreading wildly around the center of the explosion.
The wooden ceiling of the warehouse was blown away and torn apart like pieces of paper, and the brick and stone walls collapsed in the violent energy, turning into flying rubble.
The stacked boxes of supplies and sacks of food were easily ignited, turning into torches spewing flames.
A row of trucks parked nearby were overturned, twisted, and burned like toys.
It was as if an invisible monster was wreaking havoc.
However, no Ultraman appeared.
The surrounding devils could only hide in the bunker and tremble.
However, bunkers are not completely safe.
The blast generated a blast of air mixed with scorching metal fragments and burning debris, sweeping across the surroundings and mercilessly tearing apart and setting ablaze the simple fortifications a little further away and the Japanese soldiers trying to escape.
The air was instantly filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder, the smell of burning and the Maillard smell of protein.
Immediately afterwards, the second and third waves of bombs followed.
The flames of the explosion continued, turning the entire dock area into a boiling sea of fire.
Several docked motor boats were torn to pieces, and the heavy machine guns mounted on them were thrown away by the shock wave and fell into the water.
The shock waves repeatedly ravaged the land, knocking down anything that tried to stand.
In the air-raid shelter, the Japanese sergeants and soldiers who had managed to escape quickly could only huddle in despair, huddled tightly in the narrow and damp air-raid shelter or bomb crater, holding their heads, closing their eyes and opening their mouths.
They propped up their chests with their fists to avoid being injured by the shock waves from the ground, but every violent vibration seemed to shatter their internal organs.
Mud and rubble fell from the cracks in the shelter's roof, making it choking and suffocating.
All they could do was pray that the next bomb wouldn't fall right on top of their heads.
Outside is purgatory, inside is a cage of extreme despair.
Thick smoke billowed, covering the sky and turning the sun, turning the azure sky into a dirty gray-black.
Occasionally, the few remaining Japanese anti-aircraft guns would launch sporadic and futile counterattacks, with tracer bullets zigzagging high into the sky and exploding powerlessly far below the huge B-17 formation, forming a few insignificant gray-white smoke clouds that were immediately completely engulfed by the flames and thick smoke of the bombing.
This feeble resistance was more like a desperate wail, and it could not stop the harvest of death at all.
The bombing lasted what seemed like a century.
When the last B-17 dropped its bombs, it pulled up its nose contentedly and joined the returning formation, leaving behind a devastated scorched earth.
The flames still crackled and devoured the wreckage, and thick smoke billowed like a huge black tombstone, standing above the ruins of what had once been a warehouse and position.
Twisted steel, charred wood, and broken concrete blocks were scattered everywhere.
The surviving Japanese soldiers, like frightened rats, poked their heads out of their bunkers and stared blankly at the hell on earth before them, with only numbness and dullness on their faces after surviving a disaster.
Every bombing ruthlessly crushed their already dwindling morale and fighting spirit.
Looking at the Allied aircraft fleet flying away in the sky, an old Japanese sergeant hiding in a bomb crater, his face covered in soot, spat a mouthful of blood.
He was obviously a veteran, muttering in a low voice filled with bitterness and a twisted sense of "admiration":
"Baga... the cost of a 100-pound bomb is enough for a month's salary, right?
These Nanyang Chinese tycoons really don’t treat money as money...”
This almost became a consensus among the lower-level Japanese soldiers to find joy in suffering during the intervals between bombings.
They can only laugh at themselves: the People's Security Army is using expensive bombs to eliminate us cheap soldiers.
The local tyrants are inhumane! ?
As for the devil's air force?
It has become a bitter joke. It's not better than nothing, but it's almost the same as nothing.
Guarding the Palembang oil field, the source of "black gold", the 25th Army has no shortage of aviation fuel.
However, the sky is always the stage for the red Chinese emblem and the blue and white identification stripes, and the Hinomaru is rarely seen.
The reason is simple: the last air force of the Southern Army that could still fly and fight had long been used as a fire brigade and thrown into the larger meat grinder of Luzon Island.
The Anmin Army's intelligence network had already figured out the Japanese's weaknesses through the guerrillas' ground reconnaissance and aerial photography by high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft.
The 7th Aviation Regiment of the 3rd Aviation Division, part of the 25th Army, had over 50 aircraft on paper, but more than half of them were slow-moving commuter and reconnaissance planes.
There are only 10-15 fighter jets left that can actually take off and fight, such as the old Ki-43 "Falcon".
The Ki-48 "Type 99" twin-engine light bomber, which was once quite serviceable, has been reduced to less than 10 aircraft.
The Japanese Navy's 23rd Air Fleet was in an even more miserable state.
The less than 20 remaining Zero fighters and the older Type 96 land attack aircraft could only huddle like frightened quails in the airport shelters in Palembang and Medan (not the one on Mindanao Island, but a city in northern Sumatra), praying not to be discovered.