39: They... actually played two against one?

"Faster, faster! Hurry up!"

"Arm the 'F-14 Tomcats'! Prioritize getting the 'F-14 Tomcats' airborne!"

As the pride of the Air Force, the F-14 "Tomcat" Fighter Jet was the first to complete preparations.

Accompanied by the roar of the engines, the "F-14 Tomcats" were the first to taxi out onto the runway and take off immediately.

Following closely behind were the relatively older F-5E and F-4.

Sanandaj City is only seventy to eighty kilometers from the border.

At the speed of fighter jets, the two sides would meet in the air within minutes.

An unprecedented aerial battle was about to erupt in the skies over western Lang Country.

High in the sky.

Reza sat in the comfortable cockpit of the F-15, calmly watching the radar screen.

The light dots representing the enemy aircraft had already appeared on the edge of the detection range.

"All units, attention. Enemy aircraft detected. Prepare for engagement."

His voice was clearly transmitted through the radio to the ears of every pilot.

"Roger!"

"Kill them all!"

A cruel curve appeared at the corner of Reza's mouth.

He pushed the control stick, aiming the nose of the jet at the foremost target.

The radar warning sounded in the cockpit, but he paid no attention.

His finger rested lightly on the weapon launch button.

"Target locked."

The system's cold electronic voice sounded.

"Launch!"

He pressed it without hesitation.

Beneath the fuselage, a "Falcon" medium-range air-to-air missile trailed a white wake, darting toward the distant target like an arrow released from a bow.

Simultaneously, the other F-15 fighter jets behind him also opened fire.

Dozens of "Falcon" missiles traced deadly trajectories in the sky, forming an overwhelming net of death.

In the Lang Country Air Force F-14 formation.

The pilots also discovered the incoming Iraq aircraft formation, and the radar warning sound was sharp and piercing.

The "F-14 Tomcat" fighter jet possesses the powerful AN/AWG-9 radar, theoretically giving it Beyond Visual Range combat capability.

But theory is just theory.

A fatal problem lay before them—they had no missiles left.

The longest-range AIM-54 "Phoenix" Missiles had long been depleted and could not be resupplied.

What they were currently carrying was either the "Hawk," which was modified from a surface-to-air missile.

Or the pitifully short-range AIM-4C Falcon Missile.

On the other side, the missiles fired by the Iraqis clearly had a much longer range than theirs!

This meant that before they could enter effective range, they would already be sitting ducks for the enemy!

"Open fire! Open fire!"

"Fire everything you've got!"

In the Lang Country Air Force communication channel, the pilots' roars and the radar's shrieks merged into chaos.

The instinct for survival overwhelmed everything else.

Facing that massive net of death formed by dozens of missiles, they had no choice.

The remaining AIM-4C Falcon Missiles were launched one by one.

These pitifully short-range missiles now carried the pilots' last hopes.

Immediately afterward, all F-14 fighter jets sharply pulled up.

With their bellies facing the sky, they simultaneously scattered infrared flares and chaff like mad.

In the sky, brilliant "fireworks" instantly bloomed.

The Iraq Air Force's "Falcon" missile group roared in.

Some missiles were successfully fooled by the flares, plunging into the false heat sources and exploding into meaningless fireballs in the air.

But more missiles penetrated the flare screen, accurately pouncing on their respective targets!

An F-14 "F-14 Tomcat," performing violent evasive maneuvers, was directly hit by a missile.

The expensive fighter jet instantly disintegrated in the air, turning into a burning fireball that plummeted to the earth trailing thick black smoke.

"Number Three has been hit! Number Three has been hit!"

"Parachute! Eject quickly!"

The shouts in the channel were filled with despair.

However, there would be no response.

An alarm also sounded in Reza's cockpit.

An AIM-4C launched by Lang Country was flying toward his F-15.

He glanced at the light dot representing the missile on the radar screen, a hint of disdain even appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"That's it?"

He didn't even perform a complex maneuver; he simply nudged the control stick, and the fighter jet smoothly rolled sideways while releasing two flares.

That AIM-4C Falcon Missile was like a headless fly.

Attracted by the flares, it zipped past his F-15 and flew off into the empty distance.

It was practically a child's toy.

Reza's gaze refocused on the Lang Country aircraft formation ahead.

He watched indifferently as another F-14 was shredded by a missile.

"First round of attack complete. Confirmed three 'F-14 Tomcats' shot down."

"All units, attention. Prepare to enter close-quarters combat."

His voice was the only calm presence in the chaotic sky.

In the first round of Beyond Visual Range confrontation, the Lang Country Air Force was completely defeated.

Three F-14 "F-14 Tomcats," along with their experienced ace pilots, were gone just like that.

This was fundamentally not an issue of pilot skill.

Lang Country's pilots had consistently dominated the Iraq Air Force for years, and their skill and experience were considered top-tier.

The problem lay in underestimating the enemy and the generational difference in equipment.

They could never have dreamed of when the Iraqis managed to acquire F-15s with such superior performance, or missiles with such ridiculously long range!

What were the intelligence agencies even doing!

Sanandaj Air Force Base, Command Center.

The atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy.

On the radar screen, three light dots representing their F-14s vanished in an instant.

It wasn't a signal malfunction.

They were gone forever.

"General..."

The voice of a radar operator trembled.

Major General Mehdi stared intensely at the screen, his eyes bloodshot.

His heart was bleeding.

Those were F-14 "F-14 Tomcats"!

The most elite fighter jets in all of Lang Country, precious assets where losing one meant one less!

Three were gone in a single engagement!

This hurt more than having a knife carve three times into his heart!

He clenched his fists, his knuckles white from the exertion, veins bulging on the back of his hands.

"Our pilots..."

He wanted to ask if the pilots had ejected, but swallowed the words before they left his mouth.

Being directly hit by a missile at that speed and altitude meant the possibility of survival was infinitesimally close to zero.

High in the sky, the distance between the two sides had rapidly closed.

The Beyond Visual Range missile exchange was over, and the bloody close-quarters combat, commonly known as "Dogfighting," began.

"Let's fight them to the death!"

"Avenge our brothers!"

The remaining F-14 pilots' eyes were bloodshot, and they threw caution completely to the wind.

They piloted their fighter jets, rushing toward the Iraq F-15 formation like wounded beasts.

In their traditional understanding, once they entered close-quarters combat, the F-14's variable-sweep wing was unbeatable!

However, reality delivered another resounding slap to their faces.

The f-15 "eagle" fighter jet was fundamentally different from the MiG Jets they used to bully.

Its maneuverability was in no way inferior to the F-14!

In some aspects, relying on its more powerful engine thrust, it performed even more aggressively and unreasonably!

"I've got him locked! I'm opening fire!"

The captain of the Lang Country Tomcat Squadron, an ace with thousands of hours of flight experience, stuck tightly to the tail of an F-15.

The nose was aimed at the target, and the fire control radar was locked.

He was about to press the cannon button to send the opponent to heaven.

Suddenly, another F-15 flashed out like a ghost from the side, its cannon spitting a deadly tongue of fire!

Bang bang bang!

A dense burst of 20mm cannon shells instantly tore through his cockpit.

His vision went black, and his final conscious thought was endless shock.

They... are actually playing two versus one?

However, Lang Country's aces weren't pushovers either.

In another airspace, an F-14 used a beautiful sharp turn to successfully maneuver to the side and rear of an F-15.

"Die!"

The pilot roared and pressed the launch button.