Chapter 46 Two Test Pilots

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  The T-8 is an excellent attack aircraft, mainly used to deal with the armored forces of frontline enemies and ground combat personnel. This attack aircraft often needs to take off and land at simple frontline airports, so it has excellent takeoff and landing performance. The relatively flat runway in Jalalabad base can allow the T-8 to land comfortably.

  Two fighter jets landed one after another, taxied for a distance and came to a stop.

  Ground crew had been waiting on both sides, moving the ladder over and setting it up at the cabin door. The hatch was opened, and the smiling pilots removed their oxygen masks and climbed out from inside.

  "It's a long way from the flight test institute," said Fyodorov. "This chair is too uncomfortable, not suitable for long flights, I have to tell those Sukhoi guys to modify the seat of this plane."

  The flying boots thudded onto the solid ground, and Fyodorov looked at his companion Sorokinov who also got down, continuing to say: "However, those special incendiary bombs are really good, this is the best gift for the Afghan guerrillas."

  As soldiers, obeying orders is their duty. Now, the Afghan battlefield is the best opportunity to test this aircraft, and both of them are thinking about how to exert its power at this moment.

  "The sighting system still needs improvement, those guys just won't use the advanced onboard computer." Sorokinovich complained: "I almost dropped a bomb off target."

  "Never mind all that," said Fyodorov. "Come on, let's go have a drink. Afghan women are off-limits to us, but vodka is an indispensable companion in our lives."

  They got into one of the ground crew's vehicles and headed in the direction of the tower, where Flight Base Commander Ilyich was waiting for them.

  "Welcome to Afghanistan." Irich said to the two, with T-8, their support on the ground will be more powerful, those Afghan guerrillas have always been a headache for them.

  "Is there any wine?" Fyodorov asked Ilyich, the test pilots' ranks were all high, and the two were on an equal footing with Ilyich.

  Wine? Upon hearing the two men's words, Ilyich suddenly felt a severe headache. In the troops, it is not allowed to drink alcohol, especially in combat troops, as they may receive orders to take off and fight at any time. How can you possibly drink wine?

  However, almost all Soviets are fond of drinking, and many of their subordinates secretly stash liquor, taking a sip whenever they get the chance. Ilyich can only turn a blind eye to this, but now, with people like these two in front of him who directly ask for liquor, it's just too rare.

  Seeing Ilyich unresponsive, Fyodorov said: "The well-maintained Yak will arrive in two days. Until then, take care of these two planes."

  The ground crew here only knows how to maintain the Mi-24 helicopter, and this newly developed T-8 aircraft can only be maintained by personnel from the flight test institute.

  Having said that, Fyodorov turned around, took Sorokinovich with him and got into the base's car. He told the driver ahead: "To Jalalabad."

  "Both of you gentlemen must stay within the base, Jalalabad is very dangerous," Ilich said.

  These are two test pilots, if something happens to them here, Irichi also has a great responsibility.

  "Haven't we already taken control of all the cities?" Fyodorov asked. "The whole country is celebrating our victory, and the Afghan guerrillas are just a handful of resistance that will soon be eliminated - what am I afraid of?"

  "Having said that, Fei Ga Jiao turned to the driver in front and said: "Drive!"

  Test pilots are always in contact with death, technically they are meticulous and strive for perfection, but in life they are very indulgent, as tall and majestic Russians, without vodka, life is meaningless.

  In the flight school, there were so many old guys watching, and the two of them only dared to drink secretly in their dormitory. Now that they have arrived at the wilderness combat base, they can finally be free.

  "Two heroes, you are really my idols. As soon as you arrived, the commander's face turned green with anger." The driver in front said while driving, looking at the two people in the back seat who were taking off their flight jackets and changing into ordinary clothes.

  "Is there a place to drink in Jalalabad?" Fyodorov asked the driver ahead, who was more suited to his temper.

  "Yes, in Jalalabad, there are many places that sell alcohol. I know of a bar that is relatively safe, and it's mostly our people who go there," the driver said.

  Afghanistan is a dry country, but that hasn't stopped foreigners from drinking in Afghanistan. In fact, Afghans themselves often drink too. Whiskey on the rocks and whiskey with water are both Afghan inventions.

  Afghanistan's most severe period of prohibition was limited to just a few years during the Taliban's rule.

  Now, Afghanistan is occupied by the Soviet Union, and the Afghan government is a puppet regime of the Soviet Union, so it has no time to pay attention to these things.

  In the Soviet Union, a strict planned economy left middle and lower-class people with almost no opportunity to drink alcohol. These soldiers who came out to fight faced the danger of being ambushed by guerrillas or even dying at any time. Therefore, after completing their tasks, having a drink was the happiest moment for them.

  The driver said, looking at the two people behind him, "There is also a special service there. If you need it, I can find something interesting for you."

  In the bar, apart from selling liquor, there are also women engaging in a special profession.

  "Sorinovich shook his head: 'Women are devils, it's better to keep them at a distance.'"

  Feigauf smiled, he knew Sorinovich, due to his long-term work at the flight test institute, left his wife alone at home. As a result, Sorinovich's wife had an affair with a worker in the factory. When Sorinovich found out, he severely beat up the man and divorced his wife.

  After that, Sorokin liked drinking, but never looked for women.

  The car soon stopped in front of a Gorky bar, and the two got out of the car and walked quickly inside.

  At the entrance, two janitors saw the Soviet-style clothing of the two men and let them pass directly.

  As he entered, Fyodorov saw Soviet soldiers all around him, many of whom still had their weapons at the ready, with AK-74 rifles slung over their backs, and eagerly raised their glasses.

  This is really a great place!

  "Two vodkas." Fyodorov said to the bartender, a local Afghan.

  "Good." The bartender took out two cups and filled them with wine.

  When the stimulating liquid flowed into his mouth, Fei Ga Jiao felt that every cell in his body was extremely relaxed. He thought of the village that had been bombed during the day and felt that life at the flight test institute was too dull. So he transferred from the flight test institute to the front line, where he could fly a warplane every day and engage in combat. This was the kind of life a pilot should have!

  "Another one." He downed his drink in one gulp and set the glass on the bar.

  "Oh, oh!" Just then, several Soviets suddenly shouted.

  Fei Ga Zhe looked around and saw that in the center of the bar, on a high platform, a woman appeared. She was wearing a transparent suspender skirt, revealing her black underwear underneath, especially below, which left much to the imagination.

  The Soviet people shouted with joy, making a loud noise.

  "What is this?" Fyodor asked.

  "The new project that started yesterday, dancing." The bartender said, staring intently at the woman on the table, who was dancing and stripping off her clothes.

  The scene suddenly became even more lively.

  This was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Western woman. Sorokinovitch watched as the woman's waist twisted and her buttocks made certain movements, and suddenly felt some kind of desire himself.

  At this time, the woman looked at her and threw a tempting glance.

  …………

  "Rattle, rattle." A donkey cart was traveling on the dirt road, its wheels rolling over the yellow earth and kicking up half a meter of dust.

  The people on the cart sat listlessly in front, with the whip hanging limply in front of the donkey.

  A T-62 stands by the side of the road, its barrel pointing outward, as if it could fire at any moment, serving as a simple roadblock.

  Several Afghan government soldiers stood beside a roadblock, under the scorching sun, watching as a donkey cart approached from afar.

  The car hadn't arrived yet, but a strong and special smell had already wafted over, causing them to cover their noses.

  "Halt!" shouted the sergeant of the Afghan government forces, holding up his AKM rifle and staring at the figure in front of him.

  "Halt." The people on the donkey cart pulled over, looking ahead in some confusion. There hadn't been a checkpoint here yesterday, so why was one set up today?

  "What's going on?" asked the class monitor.

  "Digging up big feces." The people on the bus said: "Does this still need to be asked?"

  There was a large, round wooden barrel on the carriage, placed horizontally, emitting a strong and unique smell. He still looked lazy, as if the other person had asked a very stupid question.

  This city, like many cities in Afghanistan, has simple public facilities. Public toilets are just a few pits, with foul smells everywhere. Every now and then, there will be people who specialize in removing feces to take them away.

  It's the 1980s, even in wealthy Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, such toilets still exist in cities. Luxurious flush toilets have not been widely popularized yet. Even if they were, it would be impossible for a country like Afghanistan with scarce water resources to equip every household with modern sanitary facilities.

  "The city has been under martial law for several days, and unrelated personnel are not allowed to enter." The class leader shouted with his nose covered.

  Actually, he just wanted to take advantage of the situation. While others were hiding in their tents to avoid the heat, he had to come here and get sunburned. How could there be no benefits?

  When government soldiers are scolded by civilians as traitors, they have long been shameless, and the only thing they care about is making money.