[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

Turn the plane over! "

21

September 28, [-].

"You're idle again." Schroer patted Foco on the shoulder unceremoniously.

Foco put the book in his hand aside, folded his arms around his chest, half-sat and half-lyed and said, "What's the matter?"

"Let's see if you haven't moved for so long, are you dead?" Schroer said, "What's the matter, now you don't have a mission for a day, and you don't even get out of bed?"

"Tired, I haven't recovered yet." Foco said, pointing to the chair beside him, "Sit down."

Schroer reached out his hand above Foko and made a gesture pretending to pull the latter away: "Point in."

Foco raised his legs and moved towards the inside of the bed, and Schroer turned around and sat down on the side of the bed: "You play dead here every day, it really hurts me."

"Thanks for your hard work." Foco forced a smile, "You also know that the shooting down of the entire alliance has always depended on you and me, as well as Hans-Arnold. Now he is gone..."

"Hayo, I think there is something wrong with us leading the team." Schroer interrupted him, "If this continues, if the two of us are transferred one day, the alliance will simply have no way to get it."

Foco lowered his head, sighed silently, and said slowly after a while: "I also know, Werner... I am not the material to lead the team. When I am gone, the alliance will be handed over to you. The second The first squadron is behind us, so we must play another trump card, otherwise..."

"Don't worry," Schroer said lightly, "it's not your fault if you can't bring in newcomers. Even I can't catch up with you when flying missions, don't talk about those newcomers... Wait, what are they called? God you're not here?"

Seeing Schroer's exaggerated expression, Foco couldn't help but chuckled softly.However, he slowly put away his smile: "On the 26th, I thought it was my last battle."

"It scares you." Schroer said, "The captain gave your team a three-day rest, and you are still thinking about it every day. Can you have some backbone?"

"You didn't see how embarrassed I was when I first landed." Foco smiled weakly, "It scared many people on the ground. I fought with that fire fighter for 15 minutes. From high latitudes to low latitudes, I couldn't get the upper hand, and I had 15 minutes of gas left."

Schroer pressed his lips together, waiting for Foko to continue.

"In the end, I quickly climbed towards the sun to get a certain height. When he followed up, he was hindered by the sun, so I could turn around and fire, and knocked down one of his wings at a distance of 100 meters."

"Did he skydive?" Schroer asked.

"No," Foco shook his head, "The fuselage lost control and crashed with the pilot."

"It must have been a good player to push you into that situation," Schroer said. "It's a pity."

Foco was silent for a few seconds, and said, "It's the strongest opponent I've ever met."

Schroer's eyes wandered a few times: "By the way, didn't you say that out of the seven planes you shot down that day, six of them could be used to replace our Messerschmidt? Are all six planes assigned to your team? .”

Foco nodded, then shook his head again: "It's not easy to handle. Their engine failure rate is so high, how dare I use it for my people?"

"Are you going to disobey General Kesseling's order?" Schroer asked.

"It can't be helped," Folk said. "Install our engine, and I'll take the lead. We can't just let the people below take risks."

Schroer shrugged: "That's the only way to do it."

"It's been holding you back lately, Werner," Folk said.

"Where did it come from?" Schroer said, "Hayo, being a pilot can be born in the same era as you, and I have no regrets in my life."

Foco blinked, and before he could speak, a call from an orderly suddenly came from across the tent: "Mr. Captain Foco?"

"Here." Fuko replied, "What's the matter?"

"Someone is calling."

"Who?"

"General Rommel."

"I can't pick it up now." Folk said while straightening up and stretching, and then shouted: "Go now!"

Schroer stood up and turned around, watching Foco sitting on the edge of the bed leisurely putting on his shoes, and said, "Shall I help you there, Mr. Captain Foco?"

"It's not that exaggerated!" Folk said, standing up, and slapped Schroer's hand out as a gesture, "Go and fly again, while it's still early in the sky." After finishing speaking, he walked out.

Folk held the black microphone in one hand and wrapped the telephone wire in the other. Leaning halfway on the edge of the table, he raised one leg and put it on the other knee, nodding his head following the voice from the microphone.

"Your scene on September [-]st was simply unprecedented, Foco."

There was a smile on the corner of Foco's mouth, and he replied: "Where, General, don't blame me for speaking directly, but you are not in the Air Force, so you don't know how fast the Air Force's ace is replaced. It won't take long for someone to surpass me."

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Rommel's hearty voice came from the receiver, "Don't think that my old man is so foolish! I have never flown a plane, and I haven't seen a plane take off yet? Seventeen planes take off in 10 minutes, and there will be no one in at least two years. Break your shooting record."

Foko smiled almost shyly, and said "hmm", but the next second he pulled out his hand that was entangled in the telephone wire, and gestured to the orderly standing aside.

"You were in Rome on vacation, did you get carried away?" Rommel's voice said through the microphone, "If you didn't return after the deadline, the Gestapo will treat you as a missing person, and they will dig deep to find you."

"You know that," Foucault said, as if shy, "you really can't hide anything from you."

As he spoke, he stretched out his hand and pointed in the direction of the confused orderly in front of him.

"Then you don't want to go back to the front line, come back to Berlin with me in two days, come?" Rommel said.

"What are you going to do in Berlin?" Foucault asked.After finishing speaking, he silently lip-synced to the orderly who was still puzzled, "Bring me a bottle of wine."

"On the [-]th, Hitler gave a speech at the Berlin Stadium," Rommel said. "We are both invited to attend."

"It's not that good." The orderly whispered to Foko.

"Not so good." Folk said into the microphone, "I've already taken three months of leave this year." Then he covered the microphone tightly with his hand, and whispered to the orderly: "What's not so good! General's Get used to it, you have to talk for a long time, do you want me to sit here? If you tell you to go, go! The three team leaders are bored to death, you are in charge?"

"What's not so good!" Rommel said on the other end of the phone, "As long as I ask, you will definitely get it."

The orderly looked around hesitantly, and had no choice but to walk away.

"It's not a question of whether you can take it or not, General." Foco watched the orderly walk away, his face suddenly became more calm, "The second team leader, Lieutenant Steinschmidt, is gone, I really can't leave. I have been injured and grounded for the past few days, and I must replace Lieutenant Schroer, the leader of the eighth team, tomorrow."

Rommel responded, "Say it."

"General, I will keep some things from you." Foko looked at the ground and said in a low voice, "Except for our aces in the 27th Regiment, ordinary pilots have almost no shot down. Although we One person can shoot down more than a dozen aircraft in one mission, but the Royal Air Force has a steady stream of manpower replenishment, and the gap between its strength and ours is still getting worse.

"I don't know how long I can last. But I am one day, and I can't let anyone under me take bigger risks than me. I am the ace of the North African front, and I am the morale of the North African United. .I am here, and the regiment is here. If I let go and walk away at this time, the morale of the 27th regiment will be broken."

There was a long silence on the microphone.The orderly came in with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, and Foco immediately beckoned him to put it on the table.

"You're right." Rommel finally said, "The North African regiment still has a fatal strategic flaw. I want to talk to Neuberger, so I might as well talk to you."

"Just say it." Foco said, directing the orderly to open the wine bottle with one hand, and poured half a glass of spirits into the glass.

"You are fighting in the air, and the enemy's reserve forces are constantly replenished, and the results of the battle are extremely limited." Rommel said, "For our North African troops, the most terrible thing is their air-to-ground bombing. If your shooting down can When used on enemy bombers, the effectiveness of one shot down can be multiplied several times compared to what it is now."

"I see, General," Folk said.He held the microphone in one hand, and took the wine glass from the orderly with the other.

"Of course, I also know that this is easier said than done." Rommel continued, "You have your difficulties."

"I'll do my best." Foco said, raising his neck and downing half a glass of spirits.

With his right hand on the joystick and his left on the cockpit window, Foko wore a turban that covered his hair loosely around his neck.Looking at the boundless blue sky, he suddenly pressed down the joystick to lower the latitude and turn left. The dark yellow fuselage lightly drew an elegant arc, and then the three planes on the left and right of his tail did the same and followed closely. Adjust the distance between the planes according to the change of his plane position.

"Ten-thirty!" a voice yelled over the radio. "One shot down! Spitfire! Yay!"

"Nice job," Folk said into the microphone, smiling, pressing the comm button.

"What are you laughing at?" Schroer's voice came again, "Be careful and go back to count in a while, the eight groups have shot down more than you, and even if you cry with me, I won't coax you!"

Kugbauer's low laughter followed closely on the radio.Kugbauer looked at Neve on the left side of the forward vision