I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France-Chapter 822: They Can Hold Off Any Enemy

The usual perimeter for airport surveillance should be set 50 kilometers out.

This way, when enemy planes approach at a speed of 150 kilometers per hour, the airport will have around 20 minutes to react.

(Note: At this time, many fighter planes can reach a maximum speed of about 190 kilometers per hour, but it’s difficult to maintain this speed consistently; they mostly cruise and only go full throttle during combat.)

During these 20 minutes, the airport can scramble fighters and prepare for battle.

Therefore, even in peacetime, the airport periodically dispatches fighters to patrol, ready to return and fire signal flares for alert upon detecting an enemy presence.

However, if all patrolling fighters are shot down without exception, a fatal window of vulnerability occurs at the airport.

Therefore, on rainy days with poor visibility, the airport usually intensifies fighter patrols to guard against possible surprise attacks from the enemy.

The problem is...

The British Air Force has been complacent for too long.

After nearly two years of war, the French and British have been maintaining air superiority on the Western Front without change, and the "Camel" fighter is considered the most advanced fighter in the world.

All British military command, including Colonel Hubert, did not believe that all four patrolling fighters could be shot down.

Thus, no one took the surveillance seriously.

...

The rain continued, sounding like a shimmering curtain being drawn down from the sky.

Occasionally accompanied by rumbling thunder, oddly without visible lightning.

Then Colonel Hubert frowned.

This wasn’t thunder; it should be the roar of airplane engines.

Since thunder fluctuates—sometimes loud, sometimes soft, intermittent.

But this sound was continuous and gradually getting louder, seemingly signaling its approach to Hubert.

Habitually, Hubert picked up the binoculars around his neck, scanning the sky within the aperture.

There was nothing.

Just as Hubert sighed with relief, suddenly a red fuselage dove from the clouds, its speed making Hubert gasp.

Hubert hoped it was one of his planes, but he clearly saw a black cross on its wings.

"Enemy aircraft!" Colonel Hubert turned and shouted, "Alert, scramble the fighters, immediately!"

The aide hesitated before quickly rushing to the command station, grabbing the microphone and shouting:

"Enemy attack, take off immediately, take off immediately!"

"Attention, this is not a drill!"

"All units prepare for anti-air combat!"

...

The air raid sirens blared piercingly, pilots rushed panicked towards their planes, putting on flight suits while running.

Ground personnel shouted as they lifted the rain cover off the fighters, hastily pulling it aside to prevent it from being caught in the propeller.

Anti-aircraft crews loaded bullets into machine guns, aiming them skyward... 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

But everything was too late.

A "Camel" had just taxied onto the runway to accelerate, when two red fighters dove like lightning, strafing the area.

Bullets stirred up water from the muddy runway, chasing down the escaping "Camel."

A loud "boom" followed, as it seemed to have pierced the engine causing an explosion—turning the "Camel" into a fiery ball, crashing rapidly into planes parked along the runway.

A series of loud "booms" erupted, the blaze quickly spread between the planes.

The airport became chaos in no time; firefighting, scrambling planes, clearing the runway—while rows of machine gun bullets fired into the sky, but it was a mere drop in the ocean.

The German Army was unwilling to easily let their adversaries go; red fighters swooped down one round after another, firing at the "Camel" fighters below.

The Germans deployed a sophisticated strafing tactic. Their planes formed a circle as a squadron, diving and strafing repeatedly.

When forward fighters missed the target due to a high angle, those behind would slightly elevate along the same path or lower as needed.

This allowed them to adjust based on the strafing performance of the leading fighters.

Thus, rows of bullets rained down, striking the busy British pilots and ground crew below, leaving them blood-soaked or reducing "Camels" to mere piles of broken wood.

Some "Camels" had their fuel tanks pierced, gas leaked from bullet holes, flowing with the rain toward the fire.

With a "whoosh," the fire traced back the gasoline to ignite the fuel tank, triggering a series of explosions.

Colonel Hubert stood in the control tower, watching in disbelief.

This was impossible. There were at least 60 German fighters here; how could they appear overhead without any warning?

Where’s the patrol team? Where are they?

At that moment, a red shadow barreled towards the control tower.

"Rat-tat-tat!"

Bullets mixed with shattered glass flew wildly; Colonel Hubert felt a pain in his chest and lost consciousness.

...

Haig was just receiving the report.

"General," the aide reported, "Lambreville Airport has been surprised by German fighter planes, with heavy casualties, Colonel Hubert severely injured!"

"What?" Haig couldn’t believe it, "How is that possible? That’s our ’Camel’ fighters!"

If there’s anything within the British Expeditionary Force that Haig felt completely secure about, it was the Aviation Troop.

But now to hear it’s suffered "heavy losses," even the commander was seriously injured!

"General," the aide explained, "It was the Germans’ new fighter, a triplane model; its performance may even surpass the ’Camel.’"

In truth, this isn’t about "new fighters"; it’s entirely the British Air Force’s complacency.

Of course, the British wouldn’t say that. They would find a more reasonable explanation, one the public could accept.

Haig knew this full well, but he didn’t speak. He preferred to accept this answer.

"How big is the loss?" Haig asked with a stern face, "How many fighters do we have left?"

"I’m not sure, General," the aide responded, "The battle is still ongoing; the only fighters left might be those not discovered in the hangar."

Haig’s eyes darkened; Lambreville Airport was newly built, the hangar could only hold about thirty fighters.

It means, in just one battle, over a hundred fighters were destroyed?

The situation was worse than Haig imagined; the fire spread to the hangar and ignited, a fuel depot was also destroyed—the final count of rescued "Camels" was only seven.

After a moment of silence, the aide cautiously suggested, "General, perhaps we should seek help from Shire..."

"No!" Haig rejected the suggestion instantly.

When the Colonial Army "mutinied" hoping for Shire to command them in battle, asking Shire for help was akin to slapping his own face.

"We can solve this problem," Haig said coldly, "It’s the rainy season; aircraft won’t significantly impact the situation!"

He still hadn’t anticipated a full-scale offensive from the German Army.

Or in his mind, even if the Germans launched a full-scale offensive, even if the Colonial Army refused to execute orders and descended into chaos, there were still twenty thousand British troops in reserve and a thousand heavy guns.

They could fend off any offensive from the enemy, Haig firmly believed this!