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35 Black Death The Il-2 was peerless among combat airplanes1 The twelve-cylinder motor was one of the most powerful aircraft engines of its era. It simply didn't compare with the U-2 aircraft, with its five-cylinder engine. The Shturmovik produced a mighty roar that terrified the Fascists as the aircraft attacked. They nicknamed it Schwarze Tad or "Black Death." As we studied the weaponry on the Il-2, doubts began creeping into my mind: would I be able to handle the airplane as well as my comrades? Once we passed our written exams, our group was assigned to fly the Uil2 , a two-seat trainer with dual controls. The regimental navigator, Captain Karev, appeared before us, looking impossibly elegant in his riding breeches, painstakingly ironed soldier's blouse with snow-white collar, boots polished to a chrome-like luster, and service cap glittering with stars in the hatband. I can still clearly picture his mischievous laughing eyes and hooked nose. He led me to the aircraft and left me alone with it for a moment, to give us a chance to get to know each other, I suppose. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the airplane. It was a beauty. It had a streamlined, elongated fuselage with a glassed-in cockpit that looked out across a great distance of pointed engine cowling. Four menacing rapid-fire cannons and machine guns bristled from the wing's leading edges, and eight launch guides for anti-tank missiles hung beneath the wings. The aircraft's central wing section held four bomb bays, and six more IOO-kilogram bombs could be fastened under the fuselage. It seemed more like a navy cruiser than an airplane. I stroked the cold metal surface. Metal! I marveled. Not at all like the U-2. Sturdy armor protected the aircraft's engine, cabin, and fuel tanks. What a mighty bird had been entrusted to me! After a moment, Karev approached quietly, seeming to understand that reverence was in order. Finally, he asked, "Do you like her?" 1 American World War 1 ace and airline pioneer Eddie Rickenbacker agreed. In a rare wartime visit by a Westerner to a Soviet plant, Rickenbacker toured a Shturmovik factory and pronounced the n-2 "beautifully designed." "I was so impressed by the success of this tank-busting plane," he wrote in his autobiography , "that, in my report to the Secretary of War, 1 recommended that a general review be made of our tank strategy and tactics. Fortunately, however, we never met one in combat." 120 RED SKY, BLACK DEATH "Very much!" I gasped, awestruck. "Well then, let's fly her. We'll see if you like the 'Ilyusha' just as much in the air," he said, smiling. "Be my guest!" he added, gesturing gallantly toward the cockpit. I recall every detail of my first two circles around the traffic pattern. The captain didn't say a word during the flight, instead whistling tunes from popular operettas. After I landed, the regimental navigator asked me on the radio to taxi to the parking area and shut down the engine. I braced myself for a reprimand. "I am ready to receive your criticisms!" I said, trying to sound cheerful. "I have no criticisms," said Karev. "Go to the combat airplane with tail number 'six' and make a solo circle flight." I hadn't expected to fly the combat airplane so quickly. I suddenly felt as if I were flying blind from the cramped cabin, peering over the long nose out of what seemed like a tiny porthole. "Please Comrade Captain, fly dual with me one more time!" I begged. "It's a waste of time to beat up the air any more!" he cut in. "Besides, every kilogram of fuel is precious these days." "But Comrade Captain," I implored. "You let all the other pilots from our group make several training flights. Kulushnikov made twenty-five! Why can't I fly with you just one more time?" "Go to the airplane now. Run!" the captain commanded. I ran. Mechanic Vasya Rimsky reported that the aircraft was airworthy. I donned a parachute and buckled myself into the cockpit. I tuned in the radio receiver, checked the instruments, and cranked the engine. Taking off is the most amazing sensation-especially the initial moment, when you release your foothold on the solid ground beneath your feet. The airplane, gathering speed along a rutted grass field, suddenly tears into the air, and...

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