Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Airshow Is About More Than Just Selling Aircraft Models

Writing about industrial topics is troublesome—while other genres might yield two chapters for every one, here it’s a slow, laborious process. Posting three updates a day for several days in a row has taken a toll on my body, so I’ll return to two chapters a day. I’ll try to write more in each, and if I get the chance, I’ll aim for three updates again.

News had spread that jet model planes would be available for purchase, and now at last people could witness the majesty of these jets in person. Dazzling and impressive, they had everyone staring in awe, eyes wide as if they might fall out. Since everyone here was impatient to pick up their model planes immediately, there was no need to hesitate—we made straight for the warehouse. The flight demonstration had served its purpose as a promotional tool. Now that the desired effect had been achieved, it was best to leave the performances to the new owners, rather than stealing their spotlight.

Less than twenty-four hours later, I found myself once again at the large outdoor warehouse. Opening the shipping container, I took out the last twenty-six model planes. As usual, we made a grand procession to the suburb where the model plane enthusiasts had their manor, ready for handover and test flights.

Unexpectedly, the manor was already buzzing with many who had purchased their planes the previous day. A particularly rotund fellow was fussing with his model, so eager to fly that he hadn’t even painted it yet. The urge for battle was written all over him.

Thinking back, I remembered letting this big guy fly for less than twenty minutes after I’d first sent the plane up myself yesterday. And now, emboldened, he was ready to fly solo. What was he thinking? If he crashed the model, it would seriously dampen the sales momentum.

As soon as the car stopped, I jumped out and rushed over to question him. He was still in “flight school,” yet already set to break the rules. This was textbook unlicensed piloting—a sure way to lose points or end up in trouble.

“Hey, big guy, what are you doing?”

At the sound of my familiar voice, the onlookers immediately parted to make way. The instructor had arrived—things would be handled.

The big guy, recognizing me, looked as if he’d finally found salvation. “Coach, I can’t get this model into the air. I’ve tried takeoff runs several times today, all the way to the end of the strip, but it just won’t go up.”

Of course he couldn’t get it airborne. Did he really think flying a jet model was that easy? I couldn’t help but laugh at his effort. Once again, I had to step in, personally get the model into the sky, and then hand it back to him.

Some who hadn’t seen the flight demonstration yesterday caught wind of events and came to watch today.

Handing over and test-flying the twenty-six models was smoother than expected—six people turned up, making things twice as quick as before. In less than four hours, all twenty-six planes were delivered and test-flown. With true military-grade quality, the models performed flawlessly; almost all were ready to fly right out of the box, with no major issues.

Seeing there were still a few hours left, I discussed with the director and Elder Wu about pausing our schedule for the morning. We needed to translate the flight manual and train these new pilots—a crucial part of the follow-up work. Easy money wasn’t so easy after all.

As usual, we divided the work. Elder Wu and I, being the most proficient in English, tackled the flight manual translation; the other four took on instructor duties.

A flight manual is absolutely essential for any pilot. Before anyone actually takes to the air, the manual’s contents must be memorized thoroughly—every bit of data, every procedure, must become second nature, ready to be recalled at a moment’s notice.

Just consider how much material a single flight manual contains. Anyone who’s seen one knows it’s no small feat to memorize: aircraft walkthrough, flight instruction, performance characteristics, emergency procedures, all-weather operations, communication protocols, weapons systems, crew coordination, flight data, and so on (if you’re curious, you can easily find a sample online—it’s daunting, trust me).

Model plane manuals aren’t quite as complex. They lack all-weather, communications, weapons, or crew coordination sections. But because of their peculiarities, other major sections are added—such as ground control systems and radio circuit principles, much like with drones. Still, it’s a lot of work, so Elder Wu and I split the manual in half, one translating front to back, the other back to front, then cross-checking each other’s work when finished.

Being young and directly involved in the project’s development, my style was more relaxed and my translation faster. Elder Wu, on the other hand, was older, his eyesight not what it once was, and he hadn’t participated in the research. Yet, with the responsibility typical of his generation, he strove for precise wording, and his pace was slower. Still, after a few hours, the translation was done—relatively simple work for professionals.

As we were strangers in a new place, we left printing to the only local after-sales staff. The young man was delighted, eager to get an early look for himself.

Once the printed manuals were back, we instructors could finally relax for a while. We distributed the manuals, and the eager youths quietly retreated to commit them to memory, all in pursuit of their great aviation dreams.

Staring at the forty-plus pages, everyone felt apprehensive. The old propeller models had never been this complicated. Now that the jet models were being handled so professionally, was this the real pilot training regimen? In short: professional companies know how to do things right.

Finally free of model plane matters, the six of us laughed heartily, beaming at the booming business. Pocketing our earnings, we decided that after so many days of hard work, it was time to celebrate. Taking a deep breath, the director ventured, “How about we skip instant noodles tonight and try some French cuisine instead?”

That suggestion hit home; everyone cheered and found a reasonably priced place to eat.

Yet one meal cost as much as a model plane engine—a thought that stung a little.

Elder Wu, meanwhile, was already thinking ahead to the afternoon. With the model plane business temporarily settled, he was keen to visit the air show. After all, as professionals attending the exhibition, it was important to network and see firsthand the state of the aviation industry in the capitalist world.

“Since we’re free now, why don’t we check out the air show? We are, after all, professionals here to attend. There’s always something to be learned.”

It was the perfect plan for the afternoon. The second day’s crowd would be smaller, giving us a proper look.

The outdoor displays could open any layperson’s eyes—thrilling and impressive. But for professionals, there was little of real interest out on the field. The true allure lay in the indoor exhibition halls: the internal equipment, the cutting-edge technology. That was what drew the experts.

Air shows are usually organized by company, each displaying its star products for sale, each hoping to attract wealthy clients ready to spend vast sums. Complete aircraft manufacturers hoped to sign multi-million contracts—an ideal scenario that would keep them worry-free for years. Subsystem suppliers and second-tier contractors could only hope for the favor of the major manufacturers and dream of long-term procurement or development contracts.

We started at the main venue of the Paris Air Show, beginning with Dassault. Their booth was packed with models of all types: the Mirage series as the centerpiece, the Super Étendard still in its prime, and a row of models including the Atlantic anti-submarine aircraft, the Jaguar fighter, and other military planes. On the civilian side, the Falcon series, though not well-known, was precisely positioned as business jets and always sold steadily.

The famous Airbus company, though a rising star, still had an immature product line in 1983. The company had only just achieved financial balance and was far from the dominance it would later enjoy.

Next were France’s other aerospace giants: Thomson for radar and fire control, and the state-owned SNECMA for engines (a state-owned enterprise in a capitalist country, no less).

As we walked through, we couldn’t help but admire France’s commitment to an independent defense industry and its outstanding achievements.

SNECMA alone was a model for our nation’s engine designers. In truth, France’s industrial base lagged behind that of the US, USSR, Britain, and sometimes even Germany. Yet France still managed to build its own aviation engines. The reasons were many: government and military investment, the foundation of an old industrial nation, and the focus of the entire country’s resources on a single enterprise.

For our nation, the French aviation engine industry was the most suitable role model. The effectiveness of learning from France would become clear in years to come. Just look at later events: reverse-engineering the Russian RD33 seemed hopelessly distant; massive investment in the indigenous Taihang engine yielded underwhelming results, and though it was self-developed, its core was based on the CFM56, whose heart was originally supplied directly by General Electric in the US. Only the British-sourced WS-9 turbofan fared slightly better, but its outdated performance speaks for itself.

Many French engines have been imported, though seldom publicized—because they actually work and don’t need fanfare. Almost every domestic helicopter is of French lineage: the Z-8, Z-9, all derived from French designs. Though their performance may not be cutting-edge, they’re respectable and, most importantly, domestically produced. Of all the “rogues,” France is the only one that can be considered reliable.

We often mock “the third brother” for assembling a patchwork arsenal from around the globe, as if collecting all five major powers’ weapons would summon a dragon. Yet, when it comes to our own engines, we’re not far behind—we’ve almost collected the set ourselves. One wonders when we’ll finally have our own “dragon engine.”