"Buzz, buzz." A single-engine propeller plane was flying in the sky, with a single wing and a light fuselage, and the front engine drove the propeller and kept rotating.

This is a very ordinary private plane. The pilots on the plane are just a young man. He has the high nose bridge of Westerners, but the dark eyes of Easterners, and he is a mixed-race child.

At this time, he was flying the private plane excitedly, making dazzling movements. He pushed the operating rod, thrust, rolled rapidly, bent on a large slope, and then climbed vertically. The private plane seemed to be excited with his movements and made a whimpering sound.

"Rick is simply amazing!" On the ground, several young men looked up at the sky, envious of them. This was a field of wilderness. They set up a sunshade and a flag next to them fluttered in the sky. The words "American Folk Flight Association" kept shaking.

This is an event organized by the American Folk Flight Association. As a developed country, there are a lot of private planes and there are many people who learn to fly. However, most of them are rookies pilots who only fly the plane and then land. Like this guy in the sky, he treats flying as a game. He is extremely excited to be in it.%∟

"Yes, the association is ready to report Rick to the relevant departments as a young eagle." A middle-aged man stood behind them and said quietly.

Chicken Eagle! When everyone heard the words, they became even more excited. Oh my God! Chicken Eagle!

The eagle, produced from the civilians, is the reserve seed for formal military pilots. It is recommended by the Civil Flight Association across the United States to the U.S. Air Force and Naval Air Force. Every year, the eagle joins the military and becomes an enviable pilot.

Look at people like Rick, only the army is the stage for him to perform. This ordinary private plane cannot satisfy his soaring in the sky.

At this time, Rick was still flying in the sky, and it seemed like he was still having an imaginary enemy. His mind was imagining the flight of the enemy plane, chasing him, and then pressing the button on the operating rod.

"Bang, bang, bang." Rick shouted in his own mouth, the muscles on his face had been overloaded and deformed. He finally shouted: "The enemy plane has been shot down and is now back."

There is no more fuel in the plane. You must return.

"Squeak." The aircraft's landing gear flexibly contacts the land on the ground. This kind of private aircraft does not necessarily require a special runway or a flat land can also land.

"Rick, you are so awesome!" said a young man, looking at Rick coming out of the cabin. He was sweating at this moment, and his whole body was soaked just now.

"It's a pity that it's just a private plane. It would be great if it were a tomcat!" Rick said.

"Rick, your private plane is specially made for you by your father. It has a strong horsepower and excellent flight performance. It is simply a competition with some propeller fighters in World War II. If you were allowed to fight against the Mustang in air, you would defeat them."

Hearing this, Rick smiled. He had a father who made him proud. His father opened a small aircraft manufacturer. It was under the influence of his father that Rick had been fascinated by flying since he was a child.

"Rick, you will be able to drive on the tomcat soon." The president of the association said to him with a smile: "I am just preparing to recommend you as a young eagle. The military may come down to inspect it soon. Just your flight in the sky just now is absolutely fine."

"The military has no time lately. I heard that it is welcoming a hero from Pakistan." said a member.

Pakistan? Hearing this, Rick immediately felt a stern: "Who is it?"

"I heard that it is called Mhamad, a great hero who fought on the battlefield in Afghanistan. The current Afghan Free Army was founded by him."

Mhamad Afghan Free Army Rick is very familiar with him. He often hears his father say the name of this person, and often sees his father alone, staring blankly at the map.

"Where are they now?"

"It's right on Long Island, Grumman Company, I heard it was here to inspect."

"Come on, refuel my plane, I'm going back." Rick shouted, and took out an oil barrel from the pickup truck beside him.

The eastern part of Long Island is rich in areas, with villas next to each other, and private jets are still left on the lawn outside some villas.

Many rich people like to drive their own planes to work. Among the wealthy people in the United States, private planes are as common as private cars.

In a corner of the wealthy area, there is a private jet manufacturer.

The factory is not large, and all kinds of processing equipment are complete. Dozens of workers are assembling a private jet there.

The manufacturing industry in the United States is extremely developed, and many parts can be ordered from the manufacturer with the cheapest quotation. This private jet manufacturer actually assembles various parts together.

The private jets assembled here are also just ordinary parts, but they are very popular, with stable flight and excellent performance. Moreover, many people immediately made a reservation after watching the boss's performance.

This is not an ordinary private plane! This kind of private plane can make all kinds of flying movements, which is so cool! Although they only dare to fly straight lines when they buy it, it will not stop them from reverberating in aerobatics.

There is a narrow runway outside the factory, where every inch of land is valuable. It is already amazing to have such a runway, and at the end of the runway, there are still miscellaneous items.

If you are not careful and rush out of the runway when you land, you will be stunned.

However, Rick was skillfully operating the plane and stabbed it from the sky without hesitation. When the wheel landed on the ground, he stepped on the rudder with his legs, and at the same time he stepped on the brakes. The wheel made a squeaking sound and stopped three meters away from the pile of debris.

The engine was turned off and the propeller stopped. Rick jumped out of the plane and shouted loudly while running: "Father, Father! Good news, good news!"

Where is my father? Rick kept running into the factory. Finally, in the office, he saw his father, a calm middle-aged man. At this time, several strange faces were talking to his father. They exchanged a document and shook hands with each other.

Seeing Rick come in, Old Arslan's eyes were full of love. He shook hands with the people opposite him and sent them away.

"Father, what are these gentlemen doing? Why haven't you seen them before?" Rick asked.

"They are people from the Cessna company," said Old Arslan.

Cessna? This is the most famous private jet manufacturer in the United States and a powerful competitor to our small company. What are they doing?

"I sold this company to them, as well as the factory and our villa," said Old Arslan.

Hearing this, although he was only fifteen years old, Rick immediately understood: "Father, are we homeless?"

"Of course not, Rick, our home is not here. Now, it's time for us to go home." Old Arslan's face was full of smiles.

Rick didn't understand what his father was saying. At this time, Old Arslan looked at his desk. Under the glass above, there was a stamp pressed. On it was a photo of Old Arslan more than ten years ago. At that time, he was also very heroic.

It has been ten years. Although he has been doing well in the United States in the past ten years, Old Arslan has never forgotten his motherland.

Mohamed Ahmed Arslan, born in Bangladesh in 1935, was a F-86 Saber ace pilot. In the Second India-Pakistan War in 1965, he was an outstanding leader and experienced pilot as the commander of the 11th Squadron, an air force major. In an encounter, Arslan shot down four Indian aircraft in one minute and then the fifth one. This record was not broken until later generations, and Arslan was awarded the Star of Courage. He had countless firsts on him. He was the first and only jet pilot to meet the ace standard in a single mission, and he was also the only one-day ace in the Jet era.

Arslan is a national hero of Pakistan. His name is listed on the top of the Hall of Fame list of the Pakistan Air Force Museum in Karachi. In his life history, he shot down a total of more than a dozen Indian aircraft.

Unfortunately, in the Third India-Pakistan War, Old Arslan and his comrades tried their best to fight against the San Air Force, which was incompetent in terms of quantity and quality of fighter jets. However, in the end, Pakistan was defeated. This defeat led to the split of Arslan's hometown East Pakistan into Bangladesh. Arslan, seriously injured on the battlefield, chose to retire and leave the army in grief and anger, and took his wife and children to settle in the United States. His wife was an American female journalist who loved getting married because of interviewing him, and his son Rick was only 5 years old.

With his past experience, Old Arslan was engaged in the manufacturing and production of small aircraft, becoming a rich man on Long Island, and also gaining fame in the American aviation industry. Although he has a wealthy life and a beloved wife and son around him, he has never forgotten the brothers and brothers who fought with him through life and death, and cannot forget the series of sufferings his motherland suffered because of the failure of that war. Over the past ten years, he has always thought about returning to his motherland, and now, the opportunity has finally come!

Mhamad, this is a magical man. He created one myth after another on the battlefield in Afghanistan. Now, as a Pakistani brigade general, he came to the United States and Grumman Company. He must be here to buy Tomcat fighter jets! When this fighter jet is equipped with the Pakistan Air Force, Pakistan has enough power to face any strong enemy, especially India!

It's time to go home! Sell all your wealth and donate it to your motherland! Help Brigadier General Mhamad break through the barriers of the US Congress and buy Tomcat fighter jets! (To be continued...)
Chapter completed!