Lukyanov studied Gudzovsky's face for a while. Then he turned to the supplier director:
— Hand over the batch that you have stored as "nz"... the factory... Gudzovsky.
Gudzovsky tensed, glanced warily at Lukyanov, at the supplier director - wasn't there a catch?
—To the sales department,— the supplier director muttered gloomily.
— That's wise! — Gudzovsky again grabbed Lukyanov's palm with both hands. — That's the way of the state! And, stomping his burkas, he stormed out of the office.
Kirillov turned pale. The supplier director was squinting, he clearly sympathized with Kirillov.
"I understand you, Comrade Kirillov,— Lukyanov said. — I understand everything. But the thing is, you'll be able to make profiles yourself, I think. And Gudzovsky... I don't know...
The workshop of the main assembly. As before, a banner stretched across the entire width of the span: "IL-2 aircraft are needed by the Red Army like air, like bread!"
In the middle of the span there is a double Il. Busily, like a horse rider, Sivtsov examines it, pats the fuselage, planes with his palm, tries with his boot whether the pressure in the chassis pneumatics is sufficient.
Nearby are Kirillov, Ilyushin, Rubtsov, Petrov, military representatives, the Panchenko brigade — it was she who assembled the first double Il. The faces of the locksmiths are sharpened, malnourished and sleep deprived.
Petrov looks more excited than the others.
"We should check the elevators again,— he told Kirillov. — We have homemade profiles there...
Kirillov nodded. He was also excited about the upcoming event, but the position — the director of the plant — forced him to control his feelings.
— Somebody get in the cockpit! Petrov commanded.
— May I? — the smallest of the teenagers of the brigade volunteered.
— Let me? Panchenko gently touched his head with his curly hair. — Do you know how long I've been waiting for this bee? Yes, this one is no longer a bee," he glanced at the gunner's cabin with the protruding sting of a machine gun, —but consider it a bumblebee! — And he began to climb up the ladder into the plane.
He climbed slowly, clinging to the bars of the ladder with his hands, fatigue affected him. With difficulty, he rolled into the cabin.
The plane's plumage immediately came to life. Petrov was meticulously watching the elevators.
— Order! — He approved.
The elevators, which Panchenko controlled from the cockpit, stopped moving. Everyone looked at Kirillov. He nodded. The workers' faces brightened up. The plane rolled down the span together. Everyone followed him.
From everywhere, from the stocks with airplanes, workers flocked from all over the workshop, joining this solemn procession.
Panchenko continued to sit in the cockpit.
— Fyodor Semyonovich, maybe you can lift him up into the air? — Gontsov joked, carrying a stepladder, which he removed when the plane rolled to the exit of the workshop. — Have you decided to become a pilot?
— In general, he deserved a circle of honor, — Petrov smiled, walking next to Kirillov.
— And in fact, I'll take him over the factory! Sivtsov winked. — There is a place now.
— Semyonych, get into the gunner's cabin! — Messengers made a noise.
— Uncle Fedya, take me with you! — the smallest of the teenagers asked.
Panchenko did not answer. Only his head was visible from below, and he tilted it as if he were still looking for problems in the cabin. His arm dangled over the side... There was something lifeless about this rocking, which coincided with the bumps on the uneven floor. Petrov was the first to notice this.
— Stop! — He commanded anxiously.
The plane stopped. With a gesture, Petrov demanded a stepladder, quickly climbed up it, leaned into the cabin, listening...
Everyone standing by the plane felt a jolt of alarm. Petrov slowly descended to the floor. His face turned white.
— He died... — He said.
Kirillov stared at him in disbelief. Petrov confirmed this with a mournful nod.
Kirillov slowly took off his cap. Behind him, the others bared their heads...
— Uncle Fedya! The smallest of the teenagers shouted.
A rainy day in March. The snow on the airfield is already thawed. The first two-seater IL is on the runway.
— Pass over the workshops? Make some noise? How then? Sivtsov asked Kirillov softly, equipped for flight.
Kirillov shook his head negatively. Sivtsov went to the plane.
The engine roared. Ilyushin watched intently as the car accelerated. Finally, the silt took off and went to the horizon.
— I took off for a long time, — Ilyushin sighed.
Petrov looked at him in surprise:
— The run-up is normal...
— Almost two years... Kirillov continued Ilyushin's thought. Looking for an exciting online casino experience? Discover a wide range of games, generous bonuses, and quick payouts at Vavada . Start your journey now and enjoy a world of entertainment!
— Hand over the batch that you have stored as "nz"... the factory... Gudzovsky.
Gudzovsky tensed, glanced warily at Lukyanov, at the supplier director - wasn't there a catch?
—To the sales department,— the supplier director muttered gloomily.
— That's wise! — Gudzovsky again grabbed Lukyanov's palm with both hands. — That's the way of the state! And, stomping his burkas, he stormed out of the office.
Kirillov turned pale. The supplier director was squinting, he clearly sympathized with Kirillov.
"I understand you, Comrade Kirillov,— Lukyanov said. — I understand everything. But the thing is, you'll be able to make profiles yourself, I think. And Gudzovsky... I don't know...
The workshop of the main assembly. As before, a banner stretched across the entire width of the span: "IL-2 aircraft are needed by the Red Army like air, like bread!"
In the middle of the span there is a double Il. Busily, like a horse rider, Sivtsov examines it, pats the fuselage, planes with his palm, tries with his boot whether the pressure in the chassis pneumatics is sufficient.
Nearby are Kirillov, Ilyushin, Rubtsov, Petrov, military representatives, the Panchenko brigade — it was she who assembled the first double Il. The faces of the locksmiths are sharpened, malnourished and sleep deprived.
Petrov looks more excited than the others.
"We should check the elevators again,— he told Kirillov. — We have homemade profiles there...
Kirillov nodded. He was also excited about the upcoming event, but the position — the director of the plant — forced him to control his feelings.
— Somebody get in the cockpit! Petrov commanded.
— May I? — the smallest of the teenagers of the brigade volunteered.
— Let me? Panchenko gently touched his head with his curly hair. — Do you know how long I've been waiting for this bee? Yes, this one is no longer a bee," he glanced at the gunner's cabin with the protruding sting of a machine gun, —but consider it a bumblebee! — And he began to climb up the ladder into the plane.
He climbed slowly, clinging to the bars of the ladder with his hands, fatigue affected him. With difficulty, he rolled into the cabin.
The plane's plumage immediately came to life. Petrov was meticulously watching the elevators.
— Order! — He approved.
The elevators, which Panchenko controlled from the cockpit, stopped moving. Everyone looked at Kirillov. He nodded. The workers' faces brightened up. The plane rolled down the span together. Everyone followed him.
From everywhere, from the stocks with airplanes, workers flocked from all over the workshop, joining this solemn procession.
Panchenko continued to sit in the cockpit.
— Fyodor Semyonovich, maybe you can lift him up into the air? — Gontsov joked, carrying a stepladder, which he removed when the plane rolled to the exit of the workshop. — Have you decided to become a pilot?
— In general, he deserved a circle of honor, — Petrov smiled, walking next to Kirillov.
— And in fact, I'll take him over the factory! Sivtsov winked. — There is a place now.
— Semyonych, get into the gunner's cabin! — Messengers made a noise.
— Uncle Fedya, take me with you! — the smallest of the teenagers asked.
Panchenko did not answer. Only his head was visible from below, and he tilted it as if he were still looking for problems in the cabin. His arm dangled over the side... There was something lifeless about this rocking, which coincided with the bumps on the uneven floor. Petrov was the first to notice this.
— Stop! — He commanded anxiously.
The plane stopped. With a gesture, Petrov demanded a stepladder, quickly climbed up it, leaned into the cabin, listening...
Everyone standing by the plane felt a jolt of alarm. Petrov slowly descended to the floor. His face turned white.
— He died... — He said.
Kirillov stared at him in disbelief. Petrov confirmed this with a mournful nod.
Kirillov slowly took off his cap. Behind him, the others bared their heads...
— Uncle Fedya! The smallest of the teenagers shouted.
A rainy day in March. The snow on the airfield is already thawed. The first two-seater IL is on the runway.
— Pass over the workshops? Make some noise? How then? Sivtsov asked Kirillov softly, equipped for flight.
Kirillov shook his head negatively. Sivtsov went to the plane.
The engine roared. Ilyushin watched intently as the car accelerated. Finally, the silt took off and went to the horizon.
— I took off for a long time, — Ilyushin sighed.
Petrov looked at him in surprise:
— The run-up is normal...
— Almost two years... Kirillov continued Ilyushin's thought. Looking for an exciting online casino experience? Discover a wide range of games, generous bonuses, and quick payouts at Vavada . Start your journey now and enjoy a world of entertainment!
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