Chapter 549: The Immelmann Turn and Strafing the Ground

Following the initial pass, Richthofen, having instantly entered dogfight mode, tilted his head back while banking to track the similarly turning enemy aircraft.

The White Army plane was noticeably slower than the Fokker E.I. He had judged this during their lightning-fast initial merge.

The enemy's turning radius was also larger. Though both were monoplanes, the White Army aircraft seemingly suffered from inferior lift.

Perhaps it was a technological shortcoming, or perhaps those two blade-equipped wingtips added significant drag.

This meant that as long as they didn't let the enemy close in, the Fokker E.Is held the advantage in both speed and agility.

Richthofen deduced that the White Army's reliance on this aerial "bayonet charge" tactic was highly likely due to a lack of, or ineffective, onboard firepower...

After all, even the Saxon Imperial Air Force had only begun mass-equipping aircraft with synchronization gears a few months ago.

And during their momentary close pass, Richthofen hadn't spotted any machine guns or similar weaponry mounted on the enemy plane.

Having clearly assessed their respective strengths and weaknesses, Richthofen immediately calmed down.

He glanced toward Immelmann and saw that his wingman had apparently realized the same thing. Immelmann was currently banking slightly, continuously utilizing his acceleration and airspeed advantages to pull away from his pursuer.

Seeing this, Richthofen stopped worrying about his wingman and also began attempting to create distance. The two Fokker E.Is accelerated almost simultaneously, proactively breaking off from the intercept courses the White Army planes were trying to re-establish.

At this moment, the two White Army pilots in the air were visibly confused.

From their perspective, the two enemy planes they were just facing down suddenly accelerated and flew away, as if reaching a tacit agreement.

Their core tactic was the "head-on ram." The goal was to use their wingtip blades to slice the enemy's wings or tail surfaces during a high-speed merge.

This was the style of aerial combat the White Army had gradually developed during the civil war. Or, more accurately, it was an "aerial duel" glorified by the prefix "aerial combat."

Aside from mounting blades on wings or landing gear, some pilots would carry cavalry carbines or pistols aloft.

Some exceptionally daring—or insane—individuals would even bring grappling hooks... truly a weapon only a madman would use.

It required the pilot to hurl a hook tethered to their landing gear to snag the enemy plane's bracing wires or tail section, then use their relative momentum to tear the component off or disrupt the enemy's flight attitude.

But all these combat methods predicated on engaging the enemy in close-quarters dogfights.

Now, with their opponents refusing to engage and instead pulling away as if fleeing, their response immediately became sluggish.

Unable to formulate a counter-tactic on the fly, the two White Army pilots could only bite the bullet and press the attack.

Particularly the pilot who had managed to slot in at Immelmann's six o'clock position. Once there, he pushed his nose down to accelerate almost instinctively, continuing the pursuit.

Immelmann jinked left and right a few times. Realizing the plane behind him still hadn't fired, he was entirely reassured.

It seemed these White Army planes truly lacked ranged weaponry, but the threat of those wingtip blades remained.

If the enemy managed to close the gap, a single lateral slice could sever the wing's fabric covering along with the spar, leading to instant mid-air disintegration.

"My god, 'aerial combat' here in Rus is far too pure..."

Immelmann dared not risk it. He leveled out and flew straight ahead, utilizing the Fokker E.I's speed advantage to steadily increase the distance.

After chasing for about a dozen seconds, the White Army pilot's judgment faltered.

He assumed his opponent was terrified out of his wits, lacking any intent to engage and purely fleeing for his life.

This conclusion was easy to understand... In all aerial combat prior to this, if one side actively disengaged, it essentially equated to conceding defeat.

In a head-on dogfight, if you don't dare to charge, it means you've chickened out.

Furthermore, continuing in this direction would take him deep into Provisional Government-controlled territory, and his fuel gauge numbers didn't allow him to be reckless...

Cursing under his breath, the White Army pilot decided to abandon the pursuit.

He moved the stick, banking the plane right to break off.

Immelmann, who had been constantly checking his six, realized the moment he saw this that his opportunity had arrived.

His brain entered a bizarre state of hyper-focus...

Having foresightedly anticipated that their planes would likely encounter enemy aircraft and mages in the future, Richthofen, Immelmann, and many young pilots in the Imperial Air Force had already begun pondering solutions for aerial combat.

How to transition from the "hunted" to the "hunter" was one of their most discussed topics.

However, there had been no ready-made answers during their previous flight training, because Immelmann and the others had never engaged actual enemy aircraft.

All their aerial combat theories had been puzzled out by him and Richthofen—pure "armchair strategy" extrapolated from basic physics and flight experience.

Now, the maneuver he had simulated in his head countless times, drawn on paper, and even debated with Richthofen—a method to "rapidly reverse heading"—became incredibly clear in this split second.

The exceptionally talented pilot glanced at his airspeed indicator. After their sustained acceleration, the needle hovered near 145.

"Enough!"

The next moment, Immelmann hauled the control stick all the way back.

The engine let out a piercing shriek... The RPMs didn't change, but the violent airflow disruption caused resonance in the intake.

The entire airframe of the Fokker E.I groaned and popped under the violent attitude change.

Immelmann was pressed deep into his seat by immense centripetal force. His stomach churned, and the edges of his vision began to gray out.

But he gritted his teeth, gripping the stick with both hands, refusing to let it rebound even a fraction of an inch.

The ground rapidly vanished from his field of view, replaced by an increasingly pale blue sky.

The numbers on the airspeed indicator plummeted.

130... 120... 110...

The plane reached the apex of this "loop." It hung nearly inverted in the air, the ground situated directly above his head.

But Immelmann didn't complete the circle.

At the apex, he neutralized the stick to maintain inverted flight, then kicked the right rudder. The aircraft barrel-rolled upright in mid-air, its nose now pointing back the way he had come.

The entire maneuver was seamless; from the initial pull-up to leveling out, it took merely seconds.

After executing this unprecedented maneuver, Immelmann found himself slightly above and behind the White Army plane, the distance between them much closer than he had anticipated.

More importantly, he held the altitude advantage, the speed advantage, and the positional advantage. He had it all.

Without even needing to think, having entered a state of "man and machine as one," Immelmann pushed the nose down. Using gravity to accelerate, he dove after the White Army plane, which was still in its right turn.

The engine roared back to life, the airspeed needle climbing rapidly.

The White Army pilot, suddenly feeling a chill down his spine, instinctively stole a glance backward—and nearly jumped out of his seat.

The enemy who had clearly "fled" was now above and behind him, closing in at terrifying speed.

In a panic, he jammed the stick forward, attempting to yaw out of the way, but the Fokker E.I possessed far more energy than his clunky, Gallic-made monoplane.

Immelmann steadily locked onto the enemy's six o'clock from above.

The rudimentary metal "ring sight" mounted on the nose slowly settled over the expanding silhouette of the White Army plane.

When the Instruction Brigade's aviation unit transitioned to the Fokker E.I, their airborne weaponry was upgraded from the bulky MG08 water-cooled heavy machine guns to twin "aviation variant" MG14 machine guns with lengthened barrels and improved cooling shrouds.

As Immelmann squeezed the interlinked trigger, the twin machine guns—originally intended for ground attack—roared simultaneously. A stream of tracer rounds spewed from the nose...

...Only to streak entirely behind the White Army plane's tail, hitting nothing.

"Too far? No, I need to lead the target!"

Immelmann gritted his teeth, quickly recalling the deviation between the tracers' trajectory and the target. He minutely adjusted the ring sight to a point slightly ahead of the White Army plane.

He squeezed the trigger again, firing several short bursts.

After successive misses and adjustments, the trajectory of the tracer rounds finally intersected with the White Army plane's flight path.

Machine gun bullets pierced the fabric skin, sending fragments flying. Several rounds clearly struck something critical; the White Army plane's engine suddenly belched thick black smoke, and the propeller's RPMs visibly dropped.

Losing power, the monoplane began banking to the right. The pilot desperately wrestled the stick to level out, but the smoke grew thicker, soon trailing into a long black tail.

Then came the irreversible plunge.

"Woohoo—!"

Inside the cockpit, Immelmann pumped his fist, letting out a short, sharp yell.

But the thrill of downing an enemy aircraft came fast and faded fast.

As the White Army plane tumbled and smashed into the earth, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris, Immelmann's movements in the cockpit slowed.

He stared at the fiery crash site below for several seconds, a complex, indescribable feeling welling up within him.

Dozens of seconds ago, a living human had been in there... The cruelty of the skies suddenly struck the future super ace.

This anxiety subsequently shifted to his flight leader, Richthofen.

Immelmann immediately began scanning the surrounding airspace, his eyes darting across every quadrant... He quickly spotted his leader.

About five or six hundred meters to the southeast, Richthofen was locked in a turning circle with the other White Army plane.

Richthofen hadn't chosen to engage head-on. Instead, he used his speed to drag the White Army plane behind him, forming a "train" formation.

However, this White Army pilot was clearly much more experienced. Also utilizing dives to gain airspeed, he stubbornly clung to Richthofen's tail. Richthofen hadn't yet found an opening to turn the tables.

Seeing this, Immelmann instantly formed an attack plan.

He adjusted his heading, pushed the throttle to maximum, and dove diagonally toward Richthofen.

Richthofen, acting as the "locomotive," had already witnessed the entirety of Immelmann's kill.

Now, seeing his wingman closing in fast from the flank, Richthofen chuckled softly in his cockpit.

No radios, no hand signals—in that split second, both men had the exact same thought.

Richthofen made a minute adjustment to his heading, opening up a more optimal firing line.

The White Army pilot pursuing Richthofen had all his attention locked on the damnably fast plane ahead.

He was completely oblivious to the shadow closing in from his flank at breakneck speed.

By the time he finally noticed something and looked up, Immelmann's Fokker E.I was already in a near-perfect broadside attack position.

Too late...

Applying the lessons from his first kill, Immelmann placed the ring sight well ahead of the target and squeezed the interlinked trigger.

Two whips of fire lashed out from the nose, the tracers drawing two arcing trajectories through the air.

He fired while micro-adjusting his aim based on the tracers, gradually walking the stream of fire onto the target.

The White Army plane had no time to perform any evasive maneuvers; it practically flew itself into the intercepting barrage.

From nose to tail, over a dozen bullets punched through the fabric skin and frame structure.

The nose section was the first to catch fire. Fanned by the slipstream, the flames raced backward along the fuselage, reaching the fuel tank in seconds.

With a muffled boom, the entire aircraft became a falling object trailing a tail of fire.

Immelmann pulled up and away, avoiding the falling debris.

Richthofen executed a wide turn from ahead, and the two Fokker E.Is reformed their formation in the air, circling over Rzhyshchiv one behind the other.

The soldiers engaged on the ground had also witnessed the entirety of this aerial duel.

The first to react were the Western Rus National Army infantry attempting to assault the White Army bridgehead.

When the two "White Bandit" planes that had flown over from across the river were shot down one after another, an irrepressible cheer erupted from the trenches.

"They shot them down!"

"Good job! Our planes are incredible!"

Some soldiers who had been pinned down all day even jumped up, waving their rifles or caps at the sky and shouting.

Although this dogfight had no direct bearing on them, the White Army planes had previously come and gone as they pleased, inflicting considerable psychological pressure on the ground garrison.

Today, they finally got to see those "aerial bandits" get a taste of their own medicine.

In stark contrast were the reactions of the White Army soldiers holding out in the temporary fortifications of the bridgehead.

Huddled in their hastily dug foxholes, they watched their own planes plummet to the earth as balls of fire. Their expressions shifted from shock to silence.

But that silence was quickly replaced by another emotion: fear.

Because the two enemy planes that had downed their aircraft didn't fly away. After circling the bridgehead once, they began to descend.

Veterans who had survived years of civil war instantly realized what was happening and pressed themselves to the bottom of their trenches, but most men didn't register what it meant.

Some braver White Army soldiers even raised their rifles, attempting to shoot down the planes as they flew low.

Then they saw the noses of the two aircraft erupt with dense flashes of fire.

Almost simultaneously, a hail of bullets poured down from the sky.

7.92mm machine-gun rounds swept across the bridgehead at an extremely high rate of fire, kicking up lines of dirt and gravel.

One White Army soldier aiming his rifle was knocked flat on his back. Several others crouching in shallow pits frantically buried their heads deeper as bullets whizzed mere meters overhead.

The entire bridgehead instantly plunged into chaos.

After strafing the bridgehead in a dive, the two Fokker E.Is rapidly pulled up, but they weren't finished.

As the two aircraft completed their turns and bore down on the bridgehead once more, Richthofen and Immelmann expertly delivered "gifts" to the White Army soldiers below.

Because the Fokker E.I's onboard armament had been changed from the bulky MG08 water-cooled heavy machine gun to the "aviation variant" MG14, the saved weight allowed Richthofen and Immelmann to carry bombs secured inside their cockpits.

These "handheld aerial bombs," modified from mortar shells, didn't offer a massive increase in explosive power, but they were far more convenient to use than improvised "bundled grenades."

Richthofen freed his right hand and grabbed a "handheld aerial bomb" from the rack on the side of his cockpit. He estimated the position of the bridgehead below, then casually tossed the bomb down.

Almost simultaneously, Immelmann performed the exact same action.

The two bombs, fitted with stabilizing tail fins, plummeted vertically nose-first. Seconds later, they detonated in succession within the bridgehead.

While the explosive yield wasn't enormous, for the White Army soldiers crammed into the narrow bridgehead, bombs suddenly falling from the sky were enough to drop their morale another notch.

Before the smoke from the explosions cleared, the two planes circled back again.

This time, they didn't dive to strafe. Instead, they flew a wide, low-altitude circle over the bridgehead.

This action itself was a form of psychological suppression...

And for the Western Rus garrison on the riverbank, seeing "friendly aircraft" circling menacingly over the White Army's heads provided another massive boost to their morale.

After completing a circle, Richthofen checked his fuel gauge and waggled his wings, signaling Immelmann.

Time to go.

Having just engaged in a sudden dogfight, both planes had consumed more fuel than during a normal patrol. Although their gauges indicated they had enough to return to base, Richthofen didn't linger, prioritizing safety.

The two Fokker E.Is pulled up and flew north in formation.

The White Army soldiers breathed a small sigh of relief as the two "Reapers" in the sky flew away.

That brief ground-attack run hadn't caused many direct casualties thanks to the hastily dug foxholes, but the blow to their morale was substantial.

But these White Army soldiers could never have imagined that following the departure of the "aerial Reapers," a massive horde of "ground-based Reapers" was closely on their heels.