"Listen to me, sirs and ladies: The Russians now have stinky anti-radiation missiles, but we don't need to be afraid.

Isn’t it just a missile that tracks radar signals? The response measures have been issued and we can use them immediately in actual combat. In short, the Russians use their missiles. What about us? Uh--we are ready for the ‘blind_bat’ and resolutely fight back under the guidance of the air command system!”

"Blind, blind-sighted fight..."

Hearing the lieutenant colonel's blushing yelling "blind_bat", he was confused by this completely creative statement. The pilots present didn't know what it meant. After Fletcher Harris revealed the "secrets of heaven" and told the young men of the United States how to fight, the room began to communicate in chaos.

As a member of the main fighter jet wing, the pilots of the 15th Regiment have discovered some clues in confronting Russian fighter jets in the sky these days. Now the command from the headquarters confirms this. So let's not talk about anything else, if the Russians are really using anti-radiation missiles to attack, then the corresponding non-opening of radar is a good defense strategy; but for third-generation fighter jets like F-15, without radar means a significant reduction in combat effectiveness. Is it really okay to do this?

After a "buzzing" private discussion, someone raised his hand to raise the question, but was refuted by the emotional Harris:

"Of course! We need to figure out the situation. Now the Russians rely on anti-radiation missiles, which clearly means that they no longer use aa-10 ‘poplar’ products; and when it comes to arhm, active radar guided missiles, Ivans do not have one now. So what choice do they have?

That's right. They have no choice. So even if we give up radar and bvr confrontation, it's just turning the battle into complete close combat."

Speaking of this, Lieutenant Colonel Harris's face had become very serious, or in other words, there was still a hint of sinisterness and resentment:

"Fighting, our young men will definitely not lose to the damn Russians!"

With the emotional outbreak of Lieutenant Colonel Harris, the meeting at Diyabakir base was still in full swing. A group of rookies who had just joined the wing were vocal, stating loudly under the cold gaze of veterans.

The speech of the lieutenant colonel aroused the fighting spirit. In the crowded conference room, the United States recruits clenched their fists and scolded loudly, as if a group of stimulant-taking coyotes surrounded Harris, responding to the lieutenant-colon's war clamor. However, unlike these inexperienced novices, the long-standing flying veterans sat on folding chairs, looking tired of sleepless.

These old pilots did not agree with the lieutenant colonel's passionate speech, but were really unable to respond to the current situation.

Just look at the guys in front of you, the guys from Virginia and Missouri. Do they think that the Russians are all Arabs, a group of fools and idiots with only five combat power?

The so-called "blind vision engagement" is such a novel term that cannot scare the flying veterans of the 15th Regiment. They fought with the Russians for several months in the Caucasus, and they knew very well what the combat power of these crazy Ivans was: if NATO fighters can also gain some advantage with their command system and electronic technology in the battle beyond the visual range, then after really entering the fight of short swords, the battle between the two sides is just a kind of even-match consumption.

In such a bad combat situation, it is undoubtedly a crazy adventure to unilaterally give up using radar and simply rely on the command of the command system.

Thanks to these ignorant boys, they are still happy now!

But then again, facing the Russians who are madly moving south, perhaps such a fearless impulse can regroup and even make a beautiful counterattack?

His eyes glanced at the room full of confidence in the conference room. The old pilots present whispered and whispered through the chairs. Of course, they hoped that miracles would happen now, but to do so with "blind vision", these veterans on the battlefield could only respond with extremely cautious wait-and-see attitude.

But no matter what, there is no other solution at the moment. No matter what "blind_bat" or something else, now he can only do everything!

...

In the dark night, the hustle and bustle in the Diyabakir base continues.

On such a critical night, facing the tide of enemies, the operation of the NATO war machine is naturally in a particularly haste.

Similar to the scene of the advance base scattered in Asia Minor, drifting in a corner of the Eastern Mediterranean and close to the southern coast of Turkey, many people have not yet fallen asleep, but are busy at their posts, preparing for the subsequent battle as much as possible.

Among these hasty and dedicated soldiers, the experience of the naval pilot Lieutenant Colonel Sean Phelps is a little unusual. A summary of the battle between colleagues in the squadron has just ended. Now led by non-commissioned officers in the complex inner aisle of the aircraft carrier "Carl Vinson". The lieutenant looked a little tired, but his eyes were still alert. He walked around while walking, as if he was a one-year recruit who had just boarded the sea monster.

He was on duty on the aircraft carrier for several months and traveling countless times inside the maze-like giant ship. Sean Phelps felt that he could recognize the way and did not need someone to lead him. However, he just kept this idea in his heart and followed the non-commissioned officer with a big brimmed hat all the way.

Speaking of which, Lieutenant Colonel Phelps still got some news from the restaurant that the strange-tempered lieutenant general, John Ford, the commander of the entire huge fleet, had already arrived at their CVN-70 and was holding a combat meeting with all senior officers. However, after the meeting, the Lieutenant General then proposed to meet the front-line combat personnel, which made the commanders on the "Carl Vinson" a little embarrassed. In the end, he called Sean Phelps, the clever young man, on behalf of the pilots, to meet the elderly lieutenant general.

Speaking of John Ford, the so-called "weird temper" is just a euphemism. Many people in the fleet know that the general's spirit is "unnormal", but there is no consensus on how serious the specific problem is, and there are many different opinions.

For example, recently, someone vividly described the performance of Lieutenant General at the Central Command venue, and performed a righteous question to the audience, that is, when facing General Clark, "Do you have Italian blood?" - this kind of performance will definitely cause everyone to burst into laughter in normal times, but now, the American soldiers can only smile embarrassedly, completely losing the relaxed and teasing mood of the past.

When the Russians were heading south and the battle became more and more intense, they knew that the fleet they served was commanded by an old mentally ill. This was a terrible experience, right?

As for now, before quickly walking to a watertight hatch on the lower deck of the aircraft carrier, Sean Phelps stood at the door, raised his hand to tidy up his face, then put his hair together and put the big-brimmed hat on his head, feeling that he was ready to meet with the general.

Of course, is this confidence based on his lack of Italian descent?

Only he himself knows it.

"Ah, please come in, guys!"

Hearing Phelps knocking on the door, the elderly general clapped his hands in the cabin. He stood up from the soft and comfortable leather swivel chair, took a welcome gesture and walked forward a few steps, and then asked suspiciously:

"Oh,-I recognize you, Sean Enfield~! But where are the others going, are they all lost?"

"Well, Lord General,—I came alone as a pilot representative."

The general put a surname that sounded very much like a hand-pulled rifle out of thin air. The lieutenant colonel could only squeeze out a smile awkwardly. He thought that the rumors on the boat were indeed correct, and he still saluted a very standard military salute in his hand, and then sat down on the sofa next to the broad office according to the general's gesture.

"Ah, haha! That's not bad. As soon as there are too many people, my head starts to hurt slightly."

While speaking, Lieutenant General Ford had sat back steadily on the leather swivel chair. He naturally leaned back, piled his feet together on the edge of the table, and hugged his arms in front of his chest to look at Sean Phelps. His eyes were slightly cloudy due to his age. His eyes still had a sense of majesty. He stared at Lieutenant Colonel for more than ten seconds, until the young man felt a little nervous, and then he suddenly let go of his arms and slapped his hands:

"——Ahhh! I'll just say it. Okay, you must have a bright future. I didn't smell the Roman Empire in you. You are a serious Anglo-Saxon. This is very good, very good."

"Uh...probably, that's the case."

Thinking that this lieutenant general was meeting each other, Phelps nodded casually on the sofa, to be honest, he didn't know what Lieutenant General Ford asked him to come; could it be that the elderly general was confused again, or was it that the General, like the pilots in the fleet, was disturbed by the Russians' massive attack?

I have heard of John Ford's various abnormal words and deeds, and now I have witnessed it with my own eyes. The Lieutenant Colonel only felt a little discouraged. How could such a fleet commanded by such a guy win a battle? But it turned out that this was just a superficial illusion of his, because the general's next question became very organized, and it was not as if it were anything that a person with Alzheimer's or mentally retarded could say:
Chapter completed!