Soft sunlight spilled over the land, and the warm air was pleasantly intoxicating. Down at the docks, the rumble of ship boilers had already begun. Another busy day was underway. “Tom, did you know? We’re at war with the Austrians.” The gray clad man’s habit of talking to himself as an opening line no longer surprised anyone. Dock work was dull and monotonous, and people had to find some way to relax. Casual chatter was undoubtedly the cheapest form of entertainment. The docks, with people constantly coming and going, were also one of the best places for news, so there was never a shortage of topics to ramble about. Tom rolled his eyes and set the cargo in his hands down on his leg and said, “John, that’s stating the obvious. I know it’s not just a war with the Austrians. It’s a war with all of Europe together. Ever since we started work today, the big shots have been talking about it nonstop. My ears still work. But what does that have to do with us? Work still has to be done. Unless you’re thinking of enlisting?” In Britain, even enlisting in the army came with its own barriers. Being strong and having a clean background was not enough. In peacetime, there were only so many regular infantrymen, and there was no need for large-scale recruitment. The navy set the bar even higher. Illiterates need not apply. Now that war had broken out, the army was indeed expanding its ranks. But joining at this point meant becoming cannon fodder. Facing the entire European continent at once, the Royal Navy might not be afraid in naval warfare, but on land it would be beaten wherever it fought. Ordinary people might not possess great insight, but they still had a grasp of basic common sense. “Tsk!” John said dismissively. “Tom, that’s about as far as your thinking goes. Do you really take me for a fool, enlisting at a time like this?” After a few seconds of silence, seeing that Tom did not respond, John continued speaking to himself: “Don’t think this war has nothing to do with us. Once the war starts, prices are bound to go up. Don’t forget, every year we import several million tons of agricultural products from the Holy Roman Empire. Now that supply is suddenly gone, how do you think such a huge gap can be filled? And once the fighting starts, our trade with the rest of Europe will be cut off as well. I reckon there will be a lot less work at the docks before long.” Nothing else really mattered. Rising prices and a shortage of dock work struck directly at everyone’s most sensitive nerves. People began calculating silently how much food they could stockpile with what they had, and what they might do next if work at the docks dried up. The more they thought about it, the more serious the situation seemed. Dark expressions spread across their faces, and all interest in idle chatter vanished. Suddenly, a sharp, piercing howl tore through the air. Looking up, they saw the sky filled with aircraft. Given the limits of current technology, aviation fuel was extremely expensive. The Royal Air Force would never gather so many aircraft for no reason. The dock workers had not yet grasped what was happening, but the Royal Navy units stationed nearby immediately sensed that something was wrong. Someone shouted, “Enemy attack!” and in the next instant, an overwhelming roar of explosions filled the air. Bricks, earth, roof tiles, and even fragments of human bodies were hurled skyward. Cries, shouts, and desperate pleas for help echoed without end. From above, the entire world seemed reduced to only three colors: the deep blue of the sea, the gray black debris splashing everywhere, and the shocking crimson mixed among it. The scene unfolding before him left Rear Admiral Winston on duty utterly stunned. Regaining his composure, he immediately issued an order: “Quickly! Order everyone aboard, set sail, and leave the harbor at once!” Organize air defense? This was Liverpool Harbor, in northwest England. Even the closest point on the European continent was several hundred kilometers away. No one had imagined in advance that this place would be subjected to an air raid. Even if any air defense preparations were made, they were focused on London. Yet the winter smog ended up saving London, while Liverpool, a port city that had considered itself safe, was struck by the heavy hammer of the Holy Roman Air Force. There was no helping it. Liverpool happened to fall within the operational bombing range of the Holy Roman Air Force. Had it been farther away, like Aberdeen in Scotland, it would have escaped disaster simply because of distance. If proximity alone were the deciding factor, then Hastings and Margate on the Dover Strait, less than one hundred kilometers from the European continent, should have been bombed even more. Unfortunately, Hastings and Margate were little more than rural backwaters. Rather than cities, they were at best oversized towns and simply not worth targeting. Liverpool, by contrast, was a very different case. In later generations London would dominate alone, and this port city would seem insignificant. But at this time, it was one of Britain’s core cities, second in importance only to London. As Britain’s commercial center and its second largest commercial port, Liverpool accounted for fourteen percent of the nation’s total foreign trade. It ranked first in exports and second only to London in imports. Beyond its commercial prosperity, it was also Britain’s industrial heartland, particularly in shipbuilding, where it ranked among the top three in the world. To make matters worse, this heavy industrial city was also one of the main bases of the Royal Navy. With so many factors converging in one place, today’s tragedy was almost inevitable. Air defense was not something they could rely on. With only a few anti-aircraft guns and a handful of machine guns, there was no realistic way to deal with a sky filled with bombers. Warships could flee the harbor. Once they were moving, their chances of survival increased greatly. But docks and port facilities could not run. They were forced to remain in place, nothing more than stationary targets. Telegrams requesting assistance had already been sent. Now Rear Admiral Winston could only pray to God that the enemy’s aim was poor and that the port and shipyards would not suffer catastrophic damage. Deep down, Winston had already cursed every garrison commander and official in the cities along the route of the attack. Hundreds of enemy aircraft had passed through without so much as a warning. It was nothing short of criminal negligence. In fact, Rear Admiral Winston was mistaken. A warning had been issued. It was simply sent to London, not to Liverpool. In an era without radar, air defense relied entirely on human eyesight and hearing. By the time enemy aircraft were spotted, they were already overhead. Not everyone was a strategist capable of identifying the enemy’s strategic objective at a glance based on flight direction alone. Even after enemy aircraft were detected and confirmed, bureaucrats still needed time to react. Add to that the delays caused by reporting up through multiple layers, and by the time the British government reached a decision, the time consumed was hardly shorter than the time it took enemy aircraft to arrive. If Rear Admiral Winston had been willing to wait patiently, he might have received an air raid warning telegram a little later. Of course, this time he probably would not receive one at all, because at the very moment Liverpool was being bombed, London itself had also become a battlefield. Although the presence of smog was unfavorable for conducting air raids, the political significance of bombing London was immense. Whether tangible results could be achieved was a secondary concern. As the capital of the British Empire, London’s air defense was naturally far more substantial than anything Liverpool could compare to. Air raid sirens had long since begun to wail. Accompanied by the explosions of bombs and the thunder of anti-aircraft fire, the entire city descended into chaos. The impact of smog worked both ways. The Holy Roman air force could not accurately identify targets on the ground, so they simply left it to chance. From extreme altitude, bombs were dropped indiscriminately. Whatever they hit, they hit. The outcome depended entirely up to fate. Those in the air could not see the ground, and those below could not see the sky. British anti-aircraft guns and machine guns were firing blindly as well. By rough estimation, the damage they inflicted might not even exceed the losses caused by falling bomb fragments after explosions. Yet they had no choice but to fire. People needed psychological reassurance. Moreover, only by firing shells could one prove that air defense was actually being conducted. For the sake of survival, the British government was forced to relocate its offices into air raid shelters. Prime Minister Campbell had originally refused, but the enemy bombing was simply too intense. One shell happened to land directly on the government office building. Fortunately, the building itself was of solid construction. Only the roof was damaged, and there was no overall collapse. Presumably the capitalists knew exactly what kind of place this was and did not cut corners during construction. Otherwise, the British government might have been wiped out in one blow. Of course, the greatest contributor was still the smog. Because visibility was so poor and precise targeting was impossible, the Holy Roman aircraft participating in the bombing were all equipped with munitions designed to maximize blast radius, with relatively limited lethality against single, hardened targets. They had narrowly escaped disaster, but no one dared to assume they would evade the next one. Faced with harsh reality, relocation was no longer optional. It was absolutely not because they were afraid. It was mainly to ensure the smooth functioning of the British Empire’s command system that everyone had no choice but to sacrifice personal comfort… Covered in dust and grime as they entered the secure zone, Campbell’s mood was naturally grim. He swept his gaze toward the Secretary of State for Air and demanded sharply, “Where is our air force? Why has it still not taken off to intercept?” Facing the prime minister’s interrogation, Secretary of Air Attilio explained helplessly, “The fog over London is too heavy. The city’s airfields have long been closed. Our air force can only relocate to airfields in nearby cities. Combat orders were issued the moment the air raid began. Our aircraft have already started taking off and are on their way.” There was no helping it. London’s winter weather was simply brutal. Under dense fog, taking off was not a problem, but landing became a nightmare. Even the most experienced pilots could not accurately locate an airfield in a world where visibility was less than fifty meters. Left with no alternative, the air force had to base itself in surrounding cities. In peacetime this posed little issue, but in wartime it was deeply problematic. Whether issuing orders or scrambling aircraft, everything took time. Reaching the battlefield within an hour was already considered highly efficient. Every minute on the battlefield was precious, let alone an entire hour. In that span of time, the enemy could complete a bombing run and withdraw with ease. The core issue was still lack of experience and the absence of a mature early warning system. Yet given London’s dreadful weather, in an era without radar, effective early warning was genuinely difficult. In the original timeline, German airships were already able to roam freely over London. Replacing them with airplanes only made the situation worse. Although the actual physical damage was limited, the psychological impact was enormous. After such an ordeal, public confidence in London regarding the war was likely to plunge to rock bottom. Prime Minister Campbell spoke with grave seriousness: “Order the air force to strike back at the enemy at all costs. We must make the Austrians understand that London is not a place they can enter and leave at will!” … Potential is often forced out under pressure. Under the military’s strict orders, the British air force unleashed unprecedented efficiency, completing takeoff in the shortest possible time and racing toward London at maximum speed. Colonel James’s Third Air Wing was among the most outstanding units. As a representative force of the British air arm, it was the first to arrive over London. What awaited them, however, was neither flowers nor applause, but enemy aircraft rushing straight toward them. There was no helping it. The orders from the department were too urgent, leaving no time to assemble properly. Everyone had rushed toward London in a disorderly wave. The closest unit with the fastest reaction time, the Third Air Wing, paid the price. Upon entering the battlefield, James saw nothing but enemy planes in every direction. “Damn it!” After cursing aloud, Colonel James immediately ordered a retreat. Facing ten enemies was not unheard of, but an aircraft capable of fighting ten to one had yet to exist. At the very least, the Third Air Wing under his command did not possess such strength. Knowing when to retreat was not shameful. In any case, the fog over London was thick enough that the people below could not tell what was happening in the sky. Unfortunately, it was already too late. Aircraft flying at high speed needed time to turn around. In that brief moment, the enemy fighters had already closed in. Seeing that escape was impossible, Colonel James immediately gave the order: “The enemy aircraft are faster than us. We cannot get away. Prepare for combat!” The engagement began. Almost every British aircraft was attacked by two or three Austrian planes at once. The scene was brutally one sided. Bullets whistled past his ears. Having just escaped death, Colonel James had no time to breathe in relief before he noticed that two aircraft from his formation were missing. Moments later, two violent explosions erupted below. The destructive force of an aircraft crashing into buildings was far greater than that of ordinary bombs. These were likely the two most powerful explosions since the air raid began. Whether they achieved any military effect was left to fate. There was no time to worry about the civilians below. At this moment, Colonel James could only hope that reinforcements would arrive quickly. Otherwise, his Third Air Wing was finished. The second round of combat had already begun. More enemy aircraft joined the encirclement, yet friendly forces were still nowhere in sight. Despair filled James’s heart. At the critical moment, no miracle occurred. An absolute gap in strength could not be bridged by luck, especially when the Third Air Wing had never enjoyed good fortune to begin with. Had God shown them even a trace of favor, they would not have been the first to arrive and fall into an enemy trap. After struggling through three rounds of fighting, by the fourth round the Third Air Wing was reduced to only two aircraft. A careful observer would notice that both were riddled with bullet holes. Their survival up to this point owed entirely to the pilots’ exceptional skill, having narrowly avoided fatal hits. At last, silhouettes of friendly aircraft appeared on the horizon. Yet all that remained in Colonel James’s heart was dejection. “Another group coming to their death!” He knew he should not think this way, but his true feelings were beyond his conscious control.
[Previous | Table of Contents | Next]
Comments
Post a Comment