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Published at 31st of December 2021 10:02:29 AM


Chapter 70

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RonTheBlackCat

"Cluster bombing from B-52s is very, very accurate. From 30,000 feet, every single bomb always hits the ground." - US Air Force ammunition memo

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In the air near the center of the Elven Nation 

Aircraft Commander Evan Matthews glanced out the window of his B-52. Green mountains were seemingly spread across the land. Propeller aircraft darted back and forth below them.

His co-pilot, Evan Smith, chuckled.

Further inside the B-52, Jyreese Barnett, the radar navigator, whistled into his microphone as he looked at his video camera.

Their B-52, ladened with nearly 70,000 pounds of bombs, lumbered on through the sky as the Ea-192s gave chase down below. 

 

Northern Sector Detection Station, Elven Nation

“Based on their trajectory, they are going directly to all southern airfields. There’s also one headed for our station.” 

Senior Lieutenant Ivasaar Phiwarin rubbed his chin at the words of Lieutenant Alok Yesdan who was standing in front of his desk. “And all the Ea-192 squadrons that have been sent out can’t shoot them down?”

Alok nodded. “Yes. All airbases are reporting that the Ea-192s don’t have the altitude.”

“So there’s one that's headed to our station and it's a heavy bomber.”

Alok nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“Get this to High Command.” Ivassar stood up. “As for us, we are evacuating. Get all the important documents. Tell everyone to pack up.” 

Alok turned to leave but stopped himself. “Um, sir, we already lost contact with High Command.” 

“Oh, forgot about that. Then switch to Northern Sub-Command.” 

Ivasaar went to grab a few files from the drawers behind him. Not hearing his door close, he looked back. “Why are you just standing there?”

Alok rubbed his neck. “Sir… uhhh… how do we contact them?” 

With a mildly surprised expression, Ivassar asked, “You are telling me that we have never contacted them before in our many drills even though this region is under their control?”

“Well, sir… this was not in expectation with any of our military drills. It was assumed that the High Command Office would always be available.” 

“Just alert all airbases first, I should be able to find the number to call them.” 

 

Emethmel Air Base, Elven Nation

“The 55th Squadron failed to shoot down the enemy aircraft,” said Lieutenant Colonel Goren Ertoris while saluting. 

Colonel Vaeril Quican showed his clear unhappiness at the news. “What? How? It’s only a single aircraft.”

“The aircraft is flying higher than any of our aircraft can.” 

Vaeril raised his eyebrows. “This is ridiculous.” 

“We got reports from our detection station that one of the aircraft, which has been identified as a heavy bomber, is headed straight for us.”

“It’s only one bomber right?”

Goren gave a curt nod. “Yes.”

Vaeril gave it a few minutes of thought before explaining his thinking to Goren. “It shouldn’t be able to destroy that much of the base. Tell all pilots to start evacuating by taking off with their aircraft. Tell other personnel to take what’s important and start leaving the base. We will all return once the bombing is over. Hopefully, the runways will still be operational or fixable after that bombing. Most of them should. It’s only one bomber that probably is carrying very light bombs. No more than 10,000 pounds probably. Coupled with the fact that the accuracy of bombers isn’t that good either. Our airfield shouldn’t be that badly damaged.”

Goren showed a bit of uncertainty. “Sir, how are you so sure about the weight?”

“Remember the canceled prototype that we had? The Ra-177 Heavy Bomber? It could only carry around 15,000 pounds of bombs. And it couldn’t even fly higher than our fighter aircraft. I’m somewhat overestimating seeing how the humans have their bomber so high. I guess 5,000 to 10,000 pounds would be a good guess.” 

 

A few minutes later

Ea-192s and Ra-189s started taking off from the runways. More aircraft were wheeled out from the hangars and pilots got into them. Elves ran in and out of buildings carrying papers, boxes, tools, and various other things. They loaded them into cars and trucks. Watched as his aides loaded up the officer car with important documents.

 

Vaeril’s head turned to follow the last airplane, an Ea-192, as it sped down the runway. He looked at his driver before stepping into the officer car.  “Follow the convoy out.” 

 

10 minutes later

In the air

Jyreese stared at the video feed of the ground below.

Evan chuckled over the radio.

In massive clusters, Mk-82 500 pound and Mk-84 2,000-pound bombs started falling out from underneath the B-52. Explosions rocked the Elven airfield below as massive plumes of black smoke rose from wherever the bombs hit. 

 

A few miles from the Emethmel Air Base

Vaerill stepped out of his car and looked through the trees of the forest. He could see black smoke rising towards the sky. He walked back towards the car. “Start turning around. Contact all units, and tell them to start returning to base.” 

“What is this… our planes can’t land now!”

Once they returned, the airfield was barely recognizable. What used to be runways were now blackened ground filled with craters of various sizes. The barracks and hangars were now a pile of metal and wood strewn around. 

 

An Ea-192 circled overhead. The pilot, Voron Genjor, looked over at the ground and wondered how he was supposed to land. 

 

Vaeril stared at the ground of the airbase before looking up and saying, “They are going to need to find elsewhere to land.” 

Goren, who was right beside him, grew concerned. “Where else though? Other than this clearing, it’s all mostly forest around here.” 

“Are we able to contact any other airbase near us?” 

“We do have a magiradio. I will try contacting the other bases.”

 

A few minutes later

Goren shook his head when he returned to Vaeril’s side. “I can’t reach any of the other bases.”

Now a mixture of Ea-192s and Ra-189s were circling overhead. 

Vaeril became quiet for a few seconds before saying, “How long do you think we can make a suitable runway?”

Goren looked around and towards all the soldiers that had returned. Their vehicles parked around what used to be the airbase. “We don’t have any construction equipment and having the men dig a suitable dirt runway will take a while because of these massive craters.” 

“Then get them to work. This is probably the only way to get these planes to land safely.”

Because they were filled to the brim with bombs and were flying at their maximum altitude, the B-52s’ combat range was significantly reduced. However, the total distance from the northern tip of the Elven Nation was around only 15% of the B-52’s total unfueled combat range. They were easily able to continue their journey back to their air bases in the Magus Imperium. 

Voron watched from his Ea-192 as the elves on the ground scurried around the bombed airfield. They were clearly trying to clear a way so the planes could land. He looked at his magic gauge. It was nearly 80% empty. He was going to have to land soon. 

 

20 minutes later

He watched as a different Ea-192 attempted to perform a landing on one of the narrow roads through the forest. It got closer and closer to the ground while tilting to avoid the trees. It seemed to be doing well until the plane veered a bit to the right. Its right wing struck one of the trees of the forest. The right wing came right off and the aircraft spiraled out of control. The Ea-192 disappeared from his view before a loud explosion could be heard. Smoke rose from somewhere in the forest.

 

A few more aircraft tried to land on the dirt roads or small clearings in the forest in the next hour. A couple even tried to land in the rivers that flowed across the forests. Some of the pilots survived but all their planes were completely destroyed. 

 

The soldiers trying to repair the airfield were unlikely to finish on time. Voron looked at his magic gauge once more. The magic was completely out. He had even exhausted all his magic when he poured it into the aircraft. He had no confidence that he would be able to survive a crash landing. Pressing a button, he ejected from his Ea-192. He quickly deployed his parachute and floated down.

 

A few other pilots followed his example and ejected from their planes. 

Voron sat on the ground next to one of the trucks near the airbase. He watched as soldiers ran around trying to even out the runway. He looked up at the sky and watched the remaining planes. It wasn’t long before something caught his eye. An Ra-189 started lining up on the still unfixed runway. It passed over the soldiers doing the fixing. Its propellers blew wind across the ground. It made a hard bank to the right and circled around. It started flying lower and lower. The soldiers on the runway shouted and started running out of the way. The plane’s wheels touched the blackened dirt and started running down the destroyed runway. It wasn’t long before it hit a crater at very fast speeds and flipped over. The pilot, slightly injured, dragged himself out from under the plane. 

 

With the runway unable to be repaired and landing in the heavily forested area nearly impossible, most of the pilots just abandoned their planes and parachuted out. Similar things occurred across the north, as all airfields in the Northern Sector had been bombed to oblivion. Unlike the south with sparse forests and many plains, the north was full of forests. A large mountain range divided the north from the south. 

 

Although personnel casualties were low, the loss of most of the planes that had been held in reserve in the northern sector had a severe cost. 

 

Somewhere in the Elven Nation

Tarron sat down in a chair in his new office room. He turned his head from left to right and looked at the surviving generals. “Give me a detailed report of everything that has gone on.”

The generals glanced at each other. Field Marshal Aegord Gael, who had not been in the High Command Office when it was bombed, responded, “That will be extremely difficult, my Leader. It's complete chaos now. We are getting reports of attacks everywhere. It seems to be mostly from the air.”

“Just give me everything you are able to find out.”  

 

In the sea less than 20 miles from the Elven Nation

Nick played a game of poker with his tank crew. “We should be there quite soon. Let’s finish this game up and get ready.”

 

Beaches of the Magus Imperium

Issac boarded his transport ship along with the rest of his unit. He stretched while staring out at the glittering sea. 





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