Of course, no matter what kind of training, after all, it is still not a substitute for a real battle.

Training, exercises, are not for war, but there are always some subtle differences between the former and the latter; Needless to say, even if the "Red Flag" exercise, which has been conducted at the Nerris Air Force Base in Las Vegas for many years, the annual contests in which the simulated Cheng dù is obviously superior to the ordinary exercises still cannot be compared with actual combat.

The baptism of war, the test of life and death on the battlefield, is often the ultimate criterion for testing whether a soldier is competent and excellent.

Now, many of these young men who are fighting at Edwards Air Force Base are destined to die in the cockpit of fighter planes during their first mission; This sounds like a tragedy, but the law of war was originally the bloody "survival of the fittest", and the long study, training, and even confrontation exercises are nothing more than preparations in advance and strive to go further on such a road of death.

In the face of the baptism of blood and fire, who can laugh until the end?

"To live or to die" is a question that haunts the minds of all the trainees, and at this moment, not everyone is struggling with it, including a US Air Force pilot who returned home after the training, but his identity is neither a trainee nor an instructor in this training base.

“‘Warden’,‘Warden’，Raptor_ALPHA_attending，request_landing，over。” ("'The Watchman.'") 'Watchman'. Raptor One approached. Request landing, done. ”）

“‘Alpha’，this_is_‘Warden’，airspace_clear，repeat，airspace_clear； request_confirmed，please_landing_to_runway_CHARLIE，over。 ("Unit One.") This is 'Watchman', the airspace is cleared, repeat, the airspace is cleared, the landing is granted, please land on runway three, over. ”）

After a brief call with the tower, he turned slightly and flew to the No. 3 alternate landing runway in the corner of the forward base, and the calm-looking pilot turned off the intercom and took off the breathing mask, revealing a thin face with clear lines, and he kept the lever on it. Let the landline smoothly slide down to the top of the runway, while unconsciously raising your hand and pressing it on your chest. Straightening his gloved index finger, he gestured to a fairly standard virtual cross.

Harold Fisher, a U.S. AirForce ace pilot who was promoted to lieutenant colonel after the Caucasus campaign and has nineteen crashes, is testing a new fighter jet that has just been received today.

Flying the landline back to Edwards Air Force Base, unlike the rookies who are busy training in the sky and make frequent mistakes, Harold Fisher is very cautious, flying in a gray low-visibility fighter plane in the sky.

Lowering the flight altitude, passing along the side of the base and cutting into the approach route, the sharp-shaped fighter plane landed lightly on a deserted runway.

At this time, in Edwards Air Force Base, different from the busy scene in other areas, located on the edge of the north side, isolated by another barbed wire wall, in front of the large hangar on the side of the runway, several simple-looking fighter jets sprayed with gray mass camouflage are quietly dormant, ground staff and a few bloated pilots are communicating on the side, not far away on the bomb trailer, there are milky white training weights and streamlined test pods, obviously, and the tense rhythm of the main area of the base is different, It's not flight training, it's a group of seasoned veterans busy taking over the new fighter.

The fighter plane came to a stop, the hatch cover was lifted up, and Harold Fisher rested in the driver's seat for a moment to let the battery car tow the fighter back to the hangar.

Having just experienced a fierce flight that included a melee confrontation, the lieutenant colonel was still a little tired, he took a deep breath of the cool air of the California winter, took off his flying gloves, and disconnected the lines on his body.

Sitting on the backward flight seat, looking up at the ray of sunlight through the golden glass hatch, until the light was replaced by the dimness of the hangar dome, he got up and stepped on the retractable pedals on the side of the fuselage and jumped off the ground, hurriedly signed the flight log, then turned around and left the hangar to rest, while walking, he also looked back at the behemoth behind him, unconsciously replaying the confrontation scene just now in his mind, and turned into a firework in the field of vision.

From the perspective of a veteran pilot, there is no doubt that Fisher must admit that the aircraft is very powerful.

Compared with the F-15S/MTD that he once controlled, the previous modified version of the landline was damaged by the old enemy "Caucasian Reaper" over the Black Sea, and then sent back to the rear for repair, after a long period of adaptive training, Harold Fisher had no car for a while, and the ordinary F-15C fighter was a little strange to him, and he was completely unable to compete with the "Grim Reaper", since then, he returned to China to rest for a period of time, until he came to Edwards Air Force Base to take charge of the newly established "Shark" The squadron had been recuperating at home in New Jersey before that.

Recuperation, which seemed like a luxury for an ace pilot with a long history of flying in the sky, approved his application and waited until perhaps the most skilled ace in the U.S. AirForce was restored to form before he was ordered to take over the new job:

Take over the Raptor and intensify adaptive training to create the most powerful air elite for the United States.

The YF-22, the winning product of the ATF program, has finally secretly entered the mass production stage in recent times after several years of project evolution, and has also received the official designation of the F-22A.

F-22, codenamed "Raptor", the world's first stealth fighter, and the F-117 "Nighthawk" with the prefix "F" pretending to be a fighter, but almost no air combat capability, was designed at the beginning of the 4S (Super_Maneuverability, Super_Sonic_Cruise, Stealth, Superior_Avionics_for_Battle_Awareness_and_ Effectiveness, super-maneuverability, supersonic cruise, ultra-low detectability, super-battlefield environmental awareness) as goals; Military experts have been disagreeing on whether these indicators are necessary, but one thing cannot be denied: the YF-22, which won the ATF program, is indeed the most powerful fighter in the world, and it also opens the curtain of fourth-generation fighter competition.

In 1996, the world war broke out suddenly, and the YF-22 project, which had been intensified by the Soviet Union, also maintained a relatively fast speed, and after solving some minor problems, it was finally about to enter the combat sequence of the US Air Force, hoping to give full play to the technical advantages of "one as ten" on the battlefield of the world war and help the United States of America win this long and difficult war.

The launch of the new fighter into active service is, of course, a great encouragement for the US military, which is mired in the quagmire of war.

But at this moment, having completed another tactical flight, Lieutenant Colonel Harold Fisher, who had returned, did not feel a little excited in his heart, he said goodbye to the ground crew and armory in the hangar, walked back to the personnel lounge alone, took a glass of relatively mild water from the water dispenser, took out the key to open the door of the iron cabinet, looked left and right, and then took out a small white medicine bottle from the cabinet.

Sedatives, this kind of thing, if it is discovered by the military doctor of the base, it will probably be punished anyway.

Cocking his neck to swallow the pill, and then taking a few sips of water, Harold Fisher looked out the window with a pair of pale blue eyes, and he stood in front of the window for a while, until the pager hanging from his waist rang, informing him that someone had just entered Edwards and would be visiting soon, and then he sighed softly, walked to the locker room to change into a flight suit, and took off the pistol at his waist by the way.

Visitor, well, anyway, the person who found the "Shark" squadron was either a Pentagon official in charge or Lockheed Martin's engineering team, after all, this unit is still undergoing secret special training.

While changing clothes in the locker room and putting the miscellaneous items in the closet, a piece of something within reach of the pocket of the flight suit made Fisher's mind jump; Hesitantly stopped, the lieutenant colonel scanned the surroundings with a faint sense of snooping, but did not find any expected signs, so he continued with a little relief, while subconsciously taking out the handkerchief and stuffing it into the pocket of his military pants.

Oh, if you think about it this way, the visitor who came to the "Shark" squadron could also be that person?

After a while, changing into a clean and tidy Air Force uniform, taking care of the shiny leather shoes "stepping", maintaining a meticulous military appearance and walking into the reception room, Harold Fisher habitually took off his soft hat and pinched it in his hand, he sat down on the soft and comfortable sofa, waiting for the upcoming uninvited guest.

Ian Fleming, this mysterious man whose whereabouts are uncertain, came here to say something.

The lieutenant colonel did not rush to think about it at this time, he put his hand in his pocket, and subconsciously pinched the hard cigarette case, hoping that the visiting "Mr. Fleming" would give him some explanation, although he also knew very well that this idea was mostly in vain. (To be continued......)