Chapter 302: B‑17

Of course, many things were simplified. There is no advanced gyroscopic sight; they use an optical scope. There is no pressurized cabin, so pilots need to breathe oxygen at high altitude. There is no reliable autopilot, making long‑range flights a huge test for the crew.

Even so, it remains the most advanced bomber of this era, bar none.

"Is the test flight today?" Chen Feng asked.

"Yes, in half an hour," Zhao Xuecheng said, glancing at his watch. "The pilots are already in position and conducting the final checks."

"I'll go see the pilots."

In the preparation area beside the runway, five crew members were making final preparations. When they saw Chen Feng approach, everyone stood at attention and saluted.

"At ease," Chen Feng returned the salute, "who is the pilot‑in‑command?"

A man in his thirties stepped forward: "Report, President, Aviation Major Li Zhenhua, pilot‑in‑command of Kunpeng No. 2."

Chen Feng sized him up. Li Zhenhua was not tall, but his shoulders were broad; his hands bore old calluses from long‑term stick handling, and his eyes were bright, radiating confidence.

"Are you afraid?" Chen Feng asked.

Li Zhenhua hesitated briefly, then smiled: "Report, President, afraid. But more excited."

"Why are you afraid?"

"Because aircraft No. 1 crashed, and Wang Mingde was my instructor," Li Zhenhua's expression grew serious. "But why excited? Because I know we are making history. No aircraft in the world can fly as high, as fast, as far as the Kunpeng. We are the first."

Chen Feng patted his shoulder: "Remember, safety first. I want you all to come back alive and keep making history."

"Yes!"

Chen Feng then looked at the others: co‑pilot, bombardier, navigator, mechanic. Each was young, each had a spark in their eyes.

"Go, and let me see how high the Kunpeng can fly."

Half an hour later, precisely ten a. m.

Kunpeng No. 2 began its roll on the runway. Its four engines roared deafeningly, the exhausts spouting blue flame. Speed built up, the nose lifted, the landing gear left the ground— the aircraft took off.

Chen Feng and everyone else looked up. The silver‑gray giant bird climbed into the sky, like a real Kunpeng spreading its wings.

"Climb rate is good," Zhao Xuecheng said, holding a binoculars. "Altitude five hundred, one thousand, one‑five hundred… no vibration, engines operating normally."

The plane climbed to three thousand meters and began level flight. Then it performed a series of maneuvers: steep turns, dives, pull‑ups. Each motion was smooth and stable.

"Bomb‑release test!" Zhao Xuecheng shouted.

In a distant mountain range target range, red flare rockets rose. Kunpeng entered the bomb‑release corridor. At four thousand meters, the bomb bay opened beneath the fuselage, and four training bombs dropped.

A few seconds later, a muffled explosion echoed from the range. The observer reported by phone: "Four fired, three hit! Average deviation fifty meters!"

"Good!" Lin Huaimin clapped excitedly, "this accuracy already surpasses the level of German and Yingguo bombers!"

Chen Feng also smiled. But he knew a fifty‑meter deviation was still insufficient in combat. Better sights, better bomb‑computing devices, and—more training were still needed.

An hour later, Kunpeng landed safely. A wisp of blue smoke rose as the tires touched, then it came to a steady stop on the runway.

When the crew disembarked, everyone gathered to congratulate them. Li Zhenhua's face was flushed, unsure whether from excitement or high‑altitude hypoxia.

"How does it feel?" Chen Feng asked.

"Excellent!" Li Zhenhua said, "much more stable than No. 1, control response is crisp. The engines showed no overheating. President, this aircraft can change the war!"

"It will," Chen Feng said, "but first, we need more pilots like you."

He turned to Lin Huaimin and Zhao Xuecheng: "Now go see the Hunting Falcon."

The Hunting Falcon dive‑bomber sat in another hangar. Compared with the Kunpeng, it was much smaller, but far more ferocious.

"A single 1,200‑horsepower engine, top speed four hundred km/h," Zhao Xuecheng introduced. "Its biggest feature is the ability to dive at angles over seventy degrees and release bombs at five hundred meters altitude with extremely high accuracy. In our tests, the Hit Rate against fixed targets exceeded eighty percent."

He pointed to the rack under the wing: "It can carry one five‑hundred‑kilogram bomb, or two two‑hundred‑fifty‑kilogram bombs. The nose houses two 7.92 mm machine guns, pilot‑controlled, for strafing ground targets."

Chen Feng looked at the aircraft, recalling the historic Stuka. That shrill dive‑whistle was a hallmark of Germany's early‑war Blitzkrieg.

Now it appears twenty years early in the remote mountains under Chinese control.

"Where's the test pilot?" he asked.

A tall, thin young man ran over and saluted: "Aviation Captain Sun Liren, chief test pilot of the Hunting Falcon!"

"Fly once for me to see."

"Yes!"

Half an hour later, the Hunting Falcon took off. It was far more agile than the Kunpeng, looping and spiraling in the air like a real hunting hawk.

Then it began a dive.

The aircraft plunged almost vertically, the engine's roar turning into a sharp screech— a sound device Zhao Xuecheng had specially designed, using airflow over a whistle beneath the wing to produce a terrifying whine.

"Dive angle seventy‑five degrees! Speed five hundred twenty km/h!" the observer reported.

At only five hundred meters above ground, the bomb was released. The plane jerked upward, the overload pinning the pilot hard into the seat.

The bomb hit the target center precisely—a cross marked on the ground.

"Perfect!" Zhao Xuecheng danced with excitement.

Chen Feng also applauded. But he knew this dive‑bombing tactic demanded extremely high standards from pilots—mental fortitude, skill, and stamina were all essential. Moreover, against dense anti‑aircraft fire in real combat, survival rates would not be high.

But that is war—using the best people to carry out the most dangerous missions.