[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

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"I said," the air force officer with dark blond curly hair said slowly with his hands behind his back, "Hayo Foko doesn't know how to fly a plane at all."

"you!"

"Calm down! Dieter!" Bachofen gritted his teeth.

"Are you the number one ace of the Air Force, Gernhard Bachofen of the 52nd Regiment?" The officer looked at Illerman, who was struggling, and Bachofen, who was holding him tightly behind his back with both arms. Hoffen said suddenly.

"It's me." Bachofen replied, "But I'm not the number one trump card. This guy broke my record for shooting down on the [-]th, and now it's [-]." Pointing to Ellerman in his arms.

"So this is the well-known Ukrainian black devil, Dieter Illermann?" The blond young man seemed to find it amused, and looked at Illerman with a bit of surprise in his eyes while laughing, "That's my offense. Mr. Illerman, do you know Mr. Folk? If I remember correctly, you are not of the same age as him. "

"He's three years older than me," Illeman seemed to be calmed by the youth's sudden change of attitude, stood firm, and said with a brush of his sleeves, "It's just a year away. But we know each other."

Bachofen withdrew the hand holding Elleman as if he was amnesty, and stood beside him and let out a sigh of relief.

"Then have you seen him fly with your own eyes?" the young man tilted his head slightly and asked with a confident look.

Illerman frowned suspiciously, looked away for a moment, and said, "No."

"That's it." Seeing Yileman's breathing gradually calmed down, the young man's tone became friendly, and he stepped forward and stretched out his hand: "Reinhardt Hamacher, the second group of the [-]th United. "

"Dieter Illermann, Division 52, [-]nd Regiment," Illermann said, shaking Hamacher's hand.

"When I was in [-]," Hamacher folded his arms and said, "I also saw Mr. Folk's tricks. It was very bad." He shook his head slowly, Bi Green eyes looked at Illeman flirtatiously.When he smiled, a dimple appeared on the left side of his face, and for a moment he looked inexplicably elegant.

"Why do you say that?" Illerman asked sullenly, frowning.

"The way he flies the plane is not right at all." Hamache raised his eyebrows.He shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly and spread his hands, as if he was facing not only Illermann and Bachofen, but the entire theater audience.He is like a musical star performing on stage, his gestures are naturally deliberate.

"Although I was in the Third Night Fighting Squadron," Hamacher said, smiling provocatively, "From Heinke to Messerschmidt, from Dornieu to Sduka, the Luftwaffe did not have me." A model that has never flown. Although I am the same age as Mr. Folk, I have been taking care of new pilots since I was 19 years old.

"In July [-], Mr. Foucault was on vacation and performed flying for us as a front-line hero. I saw at a glance that Mr. Foucault's flying method not only did not take advantage of the advantages of Messerschmidt, but even made up for Messerschmidt. Mitt's slow turning is a short board, and he is forced to hover and turn sharply. His flying skills are out of order, and he is completely willful!"

Illerman glared at Hamacher, but said no rebuttal.

"Even if you are a friend of Mr. Foucault," Hamacher said leisurely, "I'm afraid you don't know what his skills are and what tactics he uses."

Illerman lowered his eyes in silence, and then raised his eyes to Hamacher after a while: "Yes, I don't know what Hayo looks like on the battlefield, but you can't deny that he is the star of North Africa with 150 shots down three times." .”

"I'm just saying he's not a good pilot, Mr. Illerman," Hamacher said playfully, looking at Illerman. "I'm not saying he's not a good front-line fighter. The great thing about Mr. Foucault is his ability to The understanding of the angle is amazing. He can shoot from any angle, and can hit the enemy in any direction, not to mention the difficulty of deflecting the shot itself, and fire before the enemy flies to the aiming point." As he spoke, he whispered contentedly Sighing, "But no matter how good shooting is, it cannot be confused with flying. I admit that Mr. Folk is one of the best sharpshooters, and you have to admit that his flying skills are not satisfactory."

"You remind me of someone from the Third Night Fighting Regiment," Illerman said suddenly.

"Oh?"

"Prince Heinrich Sack-Schleves." Illerman looked at Hamacher coldly, "You are as self-respecting as him, and you love giving advice."

"Have you met our prince?" Hamacher smiled and responded freely, "You don't have to use Prince Schleves to choke me. People in our entire team respect him, even if he is on the radio every now and then. Tell us to go away."

"Tell you to go away." Bachofen couldn't help repeating, with a bit of disbelief in his eyes.

"Every time he joins an air battle, he always shouts this on the radio:" Hamacher puffed up his chest, put away his smile, and said with a stern face: "'Prince Schleves is here, and all the idlers and others are here. Back off!'"

After speaking, he resumed his expression just now, and said with a faint smile: "Speaking of which, he is a man with combat habits like Mr. Foucault. He always takes the lead and protects his subordinates tightly." After speaking, he He lowered his gaze again, tilted his head slightly to one side, and made a very dramatic movement, as if to match his tone meticulously, "But we, Mr. Prince, don't do whatever we want. The military rules in his group are strict, public and private Obviously, he is also a gentle and restrained person, but he is extremely self-disciplined and well-behaved. In this alone, he is much better than Mr. Foko."

"Are you familiar with Berlin?" Bachofen asked suddenly.

"No," Hamacher turned to him, and replied without hesitation, "I'm from the Rhine, and I'm still a neighbor of Dr. Goebel, and my sister has a deep personal relationship with him. If it wasn't for this time Bosweiler invited me, and I have never made a stop in Berlin."

Bachofen asked again: "Then how many more days do you plan to stay?"

"Naturally." Hamacher said, "The capital of the empire should be seen sometime. Where are you two?"

"We may still..." Illerman said halfway, but Bachofen suddenly said: "We still have to meet the head of state, and then go home to visit relatives. Just a few days of vacation is not enough. It is unlikely that we will be in Berlin. stayed."

"It's a pity." Hamacher said, but there was no look of regret on his face, "I can meet you two, the two number one aces of the Air Force, but I don't have the chance to get to know you better."

"Originally," Illerman said suddenly, "I planned to go to Magdeburg to visit the grave of an old man, but after doing this calculation, it seems that I really don't have time."

"Why don't you tell me the location," Hamacher said abruptly, "I'll go for you."

Immediately a look of surprise appeared on Illerman's face.Then he frowned and said doubtfully, "It's too much trouble for you."

"It's no big deal," Hamacher said calmly, "You are a Ukrainian black devil, and you must be very busy. It takes at most an hour and a half from Berlin to Hamburg. We are both in the Air Force. Isn't it my job to raise a finger?"

Illerman hesitated for a moment, but said, "Thank you very much."

"I don't know the name of your old friend?" Hamacher asked.

"Friedrich-Carl Schenck," Illermann said.

Illerman followed Bachofen up the stairs, and as soon as he passed the corner of the stairwell, Bachofen turned and leaned against the wall: "God, the [-]th Regiment is such an inexplicable place, and I don't know Heinz How did you get along?"

"Then you don't have to run so fast." Yileman said with a smile on his face.

Bachofen jumped up suddenly, leaned on the banister of the stairs and looked down, "Let's go to the vacation house in the south while that guy is staying in the north!"

"You just asked him if he was still in Berlin just to avoid him?" Illerman said in surprise.

"What do you think I dragged you up here for?" Bachofen said without turning his head, "It's not to avoid that Hamacher."

"Thought you were going to the terrace too," Illerman said.

Bachofen turned around: "What terrace?"

"That's all," Illerman said, pulling up Bachofen's sleeve, "I'll take you there."

The two went up the stairs to the corridor on the second floor.Illerman groped in the dark corridor and pushed open a door.Bachofen followed him through the bedroom that never seemed to be inhabited, and came to the terrace outside the bedroom.There was a gap in the full moon in the night sky, but its white brilliance did not diminish at all.There was no conversation downstairs on the balcony, and there was not a single house with night lights on around.The dark night seemed to suck in all sounds and emotions.Yileman stared blankly at the moon above his head, and the darkness that was so close in front of him, and stood there without moving.

"What's the matter?" Bachofen asked.

Illerman walked to the railing of the terrace, and put his hand gently on the railing: "When I first met Haryo, he brought me here on the first night."

Bachofen stepped forward and leaned on the railing: "What are you doing here, watching the moon and talking about love?"

"Where did the love talk come from?" Illerman was angry and funny, and punched Bachofen on the shoulder, "I saw the moon."

Bachofen yelled "Ouch", moved to the side, straightened up, and put his hands into his trouser pockets.However, he immediately drew his right hand out again.

"By the way, kid," Bachofen held a light yellow envelope covered with colorful postmarks in his hand, "Erich asked me to give it to you when I was at the front. Your letter."

"No way!" Illerman called Bajo