Traveling Back to the 1960s: The Entire Internet Teaches Me How to Build Missiles

On the other side of the vast land.

2200 kilometers away, the Peshawar base in Urdu.

Pilot Robert Hale is breathing in pure oxygen and expelling nitrogen from his body.

The purpose of this is to prevent decompression sickness and to allow pilots to perform their missions in better condition.

A black airplane was quietly parked on an open space not far away.

Its design is very unique, with a compact fuselage and two very wide pairs of wings, breaking almost all conventional designs.

When Hale first saw U2, he thought it was a giant butterfly on the airport.

I later learned that this was the U-2 high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft developed by Lockheed!

Only now did he realize the deadly mission the guys who paid him to undertake were putting him to do.

Piloting this U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, we crossed the borders of East Asia and penetrated deep into enemy territory to conduct intelligence gathering!

Isn't that a spy?!

Robert Hale felt deceived; Richard, the CIA deputy director who recruited him, had told him that he was only going to fly the plane on a high-altitude weather reconnaissance mission.

Hale had just retired from the Air Force and was worried about his mortgage and car loan. When he heard that this "business trip" would only take 18 months and he could earn up to $2500 a month, he was immediately tempted.

Richard also claimed that if the mission was carried out well and valuable 'data' was collected, there would be an extra bonus!

In other words, I should be able to bring home at least $60,000 after this business trip!

This amount of money is equivalent to the income of a middle-class family in the United States for ten years without eating or drinking, which is enough to pay off the loan.

So Hale was blindfolded and taken to Peshawar.

However, it was too late to regret it at that moment.

The Chief of Police, who had been so eager when they met in Virginia, was now cold and indifferent, his lips beneath his hooked nose slightly upturned.

"Hale, I've seen your resume. You're an excellent pilot, having shot down many Japanese warplanes. You even moved through the Chosin Reservoir battlefield with impunity, destroying their railway lines..."

"It's such a waste to retire such a talented person like this... After you finish these 18 months with me, I will arrange a decent job for you."

"Don't even think about escaping. You should know the CIA's methods. It won't matter where you run to... Also, think about your wife and daughter in Virginia. Focus on your mission, okay?"

Now that things have come to this, Hale has no right to refuse and can only accept the status quo.

Although being a spy is not a glorious thing, who cares as long as there is money to be made?

Besides, with his own flying experience and the mysterious U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, those outdated planes from the East would never be able to catch him!

After removing his oxygen mask, Robert Hale, dressed in a silver pressure suit, crawled into the cramped U-2 cockpit.

Richard pointed to the parachute pack behind the cockpit and reminded him:

"Hale, remember this: from now on, you have nothing to do with America. No one except the CIA knows about your file, and no one will acknowledge your identity. So if you get arrested, don't expect anyone to rescue you."

"There's a needle coated with clam venom hidden in the collar of the pressure suit. If you don't want to be tortured, just prick it into your carotid artery and you'll be free."

"If you're lucky enough to make an emergency landing in the middle of nowhere, there are a few gold bars hidden in the lining of your parachute. That should be enough for your fare to smuggle yourself back..."

"Finally, good luck, Lieutenant Hale!"

Robert Hale swallowed hard, trying to calm his breathing, then gave an OK sign and lowered the canopy.

11:30 a.m.

After the order to take off was given, Robert Hale, a pilot of Task Force 10 at Peshawar Air Base, took off in a U-2 reconnaissance aircraft.

The giant black butterfly slowly drove off the airport runway amidst the roar of its engines, then accelerated and rose into the sky.

After jettisoning the landing gear attached to the bottom of the fuselage, Hale circled the reconnaissance plane once in the air, then suddenly tilted the nose up and pointed it towards the sky, as light as a leaf falling from a tree.

Then, as if by magic, it quickly disappeared into the horizon.

After the U-2 reconnaissance aircraft climbed to a cruising altitude of 18000 meters, Hale quietly made two "beep-beep" signals with his transmitter before radio silence.

This indicates that the mission has gone smoothly and that they have secretly infiltrated the target area.

The Peshawar base responded with a single beep, meaning "to proceed as planned."

Then, the radio went completely silent.

Hale flew alone high in the sky, the cabin so quiet that only his own breathing could be heard.

Outside the porthole was the deep blue-black stratosphere and the vast Kumtag Desert.

According to the plan, he would fly from Peshawar over Lop Nur, Jinshatan, Hexi Corridor, Badain Desert, and Qilian Mountains, enter the Northeast Industrial Base, and then fly along the coastline to the Black Cat Base, which would be considered a great success.

While piloting the plane, Hale absentmindedly flipped through a copy of the Saturday Evening Post that he carried with him.

Logically speaking, such a book that clearly points to "America" ​​should not be brought on the plane.

But perhaps Hale was too well hidden, or perhaps the ground crew was too confident in the U-2 and didn't think it could be shot down.

In short, Hale was already reading with great interest.

As the U-2 reconnaissance plane flew over the Golden Beach area, he became slightly more focused, put the magazine aside, and turned on the Hycon high-resolution wide-field camera on the bottom of the reconnaissance plane.

As the mechanical shutter of the lens automatically emitted a series of clicks, the terrain, landforms, and roads of the entire alpine grassland were recorded one by one.

Flying further ahead, we'll enter the Badain Jaran Desert again.

Hale stared curiously at the yellow dot on the ground, wondering what secret it held.

……

Jincheng, Dingxin Airport.

The tarmac was a scene of bustling activity, with various tow trucks and oil tankers honking their horns and running back and forth.

Mechanics and ordnance specialists busied themselves around the J-5 fighter jet, inspecting its equipment in and out, making constant "boom-boom-boom" sounds.

Fang Xiaotian, dressed in a yellow flight suit and a grass-green anti-G suit, would look up at the cloudless sky for a moment, then turn back to urge them on:

"Hurry up, hurry up, everyone! Nobody's allowed to drop the ball!"

In the sweltering heat of midday, waves of heat blew across the Gobi Desert, soaking Fang Xiaotian completely in sweat, which streamed down his back.

The wingman pilot said, "Sir, please sit down and have some tea. The U-2 is still quite a distance from Jincheng!"

Fang Xiaotian waved his hand impatiently and said, "I can't wait any longer. I wish I could sprout wings and fly away right now. Those damn U-2s are here again, treating this place like their own backyard. We have to teach them a lesson!"

"Sir, there's no need for you to personally intervene. What if something goes wrong..."

Fang Xiaotian glared at him. "What could possibly happen? Are there any pilots here more experienced than me? Back in the day at Chosin Reservoir, I dared to single-handedly shoot down an entire American flight formation. What are you afraid of with a U-2?"

He was the only deputy division-level pilot in the Jincheng Aviation Squadron and a first-class pilot, so he was certainly qualified to say that.

For the sake of the leader's safety, the wingman pilot still tried to persuade him again, but suddenly, a series of alarm bells rang on the tarmac.

This is a warning of Level 1 combat readiness.

Fang Xiaotian shoved aside the mechanic who was still performing maintenance and, like a cannonball, shoved his way into the plane.

In less than thirty seconds, the wingman pilot had also entered the cockpit.

Seeing this, the battalion commander at the ground command post decisively gave the following order:

"Enemy aircraft have violated our airspace. The duty squadron shall take off immediately and resolutely annihilate the invading enemy, ensuring they have no chance of returning!"

"Attack!"