Cao Zhenlong climbed down from his fighter and took off his helmet.
He drew a deep breath.
Then walked toward his own ready room.
As he walked, he glanced at Lieutenant Zhang, who had come back at the same time.
"Group Leader!" Seeing him, Lieutenant Zhang at once came up at a quick step, saluting in greeting.
"Your squadron fought well just now," Cao Zhenlong said in praise.
Lieutenant Zhang grinned. "That was only because we worked with your squadron; that's what made the tally."
Something seemed to occur to Cao Zhenlong.
He asked, "Zhao Chen's Eighteenth Squadron, by the time, they should be back by now."
Lieutenant Zhang nodded. "About now, yes. Shall I contact him and ask how he's doing?"
"No need. When a squadron takes heavy losses in its first battle, the leader always feels wretched. We'll go over ourselves. And see whether there's anything we can help with. Little Zhao's own flying is very good indeed, but flying and leading a squadron in battle are two wholly different things," Cao Zhenlong said, walking toward the Eighteenth Squadron's ready room.
"That's true enough." Lieutenant Zhang's brows were troubled.
He only hoped now that Zhao Chen's Eighteenth Squadron's losses had not gone over six in ten.
So long as they had not, everything could be managed.
If it truly were too wretched,
then even if they wished to 'look after' Zhao Chen, it would be hard.
Soon the two came to the Eighteenth Squadron's ready-room door.
And could hear a scolding voice from inside.
Zhao Chen's.
Cao Zhenlong frowned.
Lieutenant Zhang, beside him, felt the worst.
If Zhao Chen, because his squadron had taken heavy losses, was laying the blame on his own members.
Some squadron leaders had done just that before.
If so, Zhao Chen's standing with the group leader would fall.
For such behavior would mean Zhao Chen was a thoroughly irresponsible squadron leader!
But once the two had walked through the door.
Their faces froze.
For they saw a dense crowd of people in the ready room.
Nearly two-thirds of the seats had someone in them!
What did that mean?
They knew very well.
Lieutenant Zhang turned at once to the panel in the ready room showing the roster.
On it there were now only two colors: green and gray.
Green for those not in combat.
Gray for the dead.
There were indeed gray names on the panel.
But beside the green they were truly few.
"This… this… this…" Lieutenant Zhang was dumbstruck at the figures.
Cao Zhenlong noticed his face and looked over curiously too.
Just then Zhao Chen saw the two officers appear.
He handed the work in hand to his several veteran deputies.
And came over to the two.
"Group Leader, Lieutenant Zhang. What brings you here? Are there orders from above?" Zhao Chen saluted, then asked.
"Little Zhao, your… your losses are…" Cao Zhenlong's face was strange.
Zhao Chen answered, "In this action we launched at full strength. Enemy fighters destroyed: 138. The Eighteenth Squadron lost thirty-seven."
Hearing these exact figures, they were both stunned.
138 killed?
Thirty-seven lost?
How could such a tally have been fought?
The two of them half wondered whether they were hearing things.
Thirty-seven dead meant a death rate under 15%.
In any new squadron that was unheard of.
They did not know about other mother ships, but aboard theirs it had never happened.
So far as Cao Zhenlong knew, the best first-battle casualty rate for a new squadron was 38%.
And that with nearly fifty veteran pilots assigned to it,
while Zhao Chen's Eighteenth Squadron had fewer than ten veterans.
Not only were their losses so low, but they had destroyed 138 enemy fighters.
Cao Zhenlong had no fear that Zhao Chen was exaggerating.
For these kill records could all be checked.
No one would do anything so foolish.
Never mind a new squadron: even a squadron at normal strength could not always be sure of a hundred kills!
And with such a makeup Zhao Chen had, of all things, fought so splendid a tally.
It was truly past belief.
"Zhao Chen, tell me honestly. Did your Eighteenth Squadron truly fight this?" Cao Zhenlong asked, pointing at the data panel.
Zhao Chen was taken aback, then nodded. "We did. Our squadron has every combat record saved."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha, I knew you had it in you, lad. Splendid! Splendid! That's a record outright. Ha-ha-ha-ha." Lieutenant Zhang, being the hearty sort, clapped Zhao Chen's shoulder and laughed.
Cao Zhenlong stared at Zhao Chen a long while, then asked slowly, "How did you do it?"
"Team fighting, many against few. The only thing I asked of them was to obey orders and follow command. That they graduated from the academy means they have the skill to fly a fighter. The one thing they lack is flexible combat experience. That being so, I let them not think about any of that, only obey my orders, treat it all as training, and carry out what I told them."
Zhao Chen said it simply.
A very simple account.
But Cao Zhenlong knew very well how simple it looked.
And how hard it was,
to truly bring about.
First, it required a squadron leader with tremendous strategic sense, able to hold the whole picture.
Such talent is a general's talent!
He had never imagined Zhao Chen had a gift in this line.
"Making you a squadron leader wastes your talent." Cao Zhenlong held it in a long while, then came out with that.
"Luck, only luck," Zhao Chen said with a grin.
"I will report your excellent showing to our superiors. Keep it up," Cao Zhenlong said, clapping Zhao Chen's shoulder.
At this Zhao Chen waved his hands at once. "There's no need to report it upward. It was everyone's doing, really, and your and Lieutenant Zhang's careful teaching."
Zhao Chen naturally had no wish to draw too much notice.
That he had shown this ability at all came wholly of not wanting to watch the members of his own squadron die for nothing.
"Don't be modest. We have all seen your ability. I believe that once this campaign is over. Making you a group leader would be more than justified!"
Seeing Cao Zhenlong so set on putting him up for merit,
Zhao Chen felt rather helpless.
He only hoped it would not stir up trouble he did not need!