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"Pray! For our enemies!" Hartmann uttered the word in a secret camp in the Polish suburbs just as Karjus uttered the word prayer.

Before his eyes, a brand-new Raven jet fighter was warming up its engines for takeoff on a smooth asphalt runway.

It's a secret military base and a fairly well-established military airfield: it has the best runways, tailor-made for jets.

As the most fresh and fashionable weaponry in 1941, the requirements of jet fighters for take-off and landing runways can be described as harsh.

Of course, this is also an important reason for the constraints of new weapons: even the squeamish TA-152 fighter has no higher runway requirements than the Raven jet fighter.

However, having said that, the air combat performance of jet fighters, especially single-engine jet fighters, is definitely not comparable to that of piston fighter jets.

Germany's Raven fighter technology is very mature. Just relying on the performance index of flight speed, it can crush all piston fighter jets and dominate the sky.

As long as it is given enough height to climb to the airspace it is good at, the prey it is staring at will have only one path to choose from.

"If it's really that good." Standing beside Hartman was a thin young man with a smile on his face that looked sunny.

"Boom!" The test pilot accelerated the engine and made a roar, and the Raven fighter began to taxi, leaving the ground at the end of the runway and charging into the sky in the distance.

"Marceiu! The gliding distance of this thing is estimated to be twice that of a TA-152 fighter jet." Hartman said to the people around him when he saw the crow rushing into the sky.

"Yeah! That means it's fast! Very fast!" Marceau folded his arms and stared intently at the plane in the distance.

The two young men are both ace pilots. They both shot down hundreds of fighter jets. They are both promising air combat stars in the Air Force.

The difference is not without, Marceu served in North Africa, and then was transferred to the Eastern Front, the current record is higher than Hartmann.

And Hartmann may be the youngest pilot with the fastest record. Everyone thinks that he will surpass Marceiu and become the pilot with more records.

In a way, they are a type of people who prefer planes to wine and cigarettes. So after the two of them were lifted from the canvas on the Raven fighter, their eyes never left the new black-painted fighter.

Similarly, their attention is still on the fighter jet in the distance. The roar of jet engines could still be heard in the sky, and the fighter had already climbed to a height of several thousand meters in the sky.

"This climb speed can definitely surpass the TA-152 fighter jet! It can gain an advantage in the process, and then reflexively teach the guy chasing it some lessons." Hartman said in amazement.

"There will be no fools chasing it. It's too fast. If it were me, I would pull away immediately to avoid chasing."

Just as the two were talking, the Raven fighter jet for display had already climbed to a very high level. From the ground, it looks like a small black spot in the sky.

Then, right there, the crow swooped down, accompanied by the roar of the engine, at an unprecedented speed, and rushed towards the F-190 fighter that was playing prey in the distance.

It was too late, but the Raven showed good speed performance, passing the prey F-190 fighter at a very close distance.

As the so-called layman watches the fun, the expert watches the doorway. All the pilots who came to watch the new fighter plane, including Marceyou and Hartmann, knew what that moment just meant.

On the real battlefield, just passing by for a brief moment was a very deadly opportunity to fire.

The F-190 that was being chased would be smashed to pieces in a split second, and it didn't even have time to dodge.

"I bet that in the dive just now, that Raven fighter jet had a speed of at least 800 kilometers per hour!" A pilot who also looked up at the sky exclaimed in surprise.

Hartman, who is very sensitive to speed, looked at the Raven fighter jet that was climbing again, shook his head and said softly: "At least 820 kilometers! This speed is faster than the TA-152 fighter jet..."

"Yeah, I guess it's about 820 kilometers, maybe 830, who knows. But as long as it exceeds 800 kilometers, it's the fastest guy in the sky." Marceau agreed.

In this era, the fighter jets that the opponents of German pilots are generally equipped with are only a pitiful 500 kilometers~lightnovelpub.net~ Even the most advanced experimental aircraft in the United States are only about 650 kilometers.

Therefore, the flight speed of the TA-152 fighter is enough to handle the vast majority of air combat.

And the Raven, this kind of fighter jet that spans the ages, brings the Luftwaffe pilots the thrill of crushing.

All they have to do is fly high enough and dive toward the target. They can throw off all enemies without worrying about what's behind them...

With the roar of the engine, the Raven fighter once again returned to its most familiar altitude. At an altitude of about 8,000 meters, it is an invincible existence.

Even at an altitude of more than 10,000 meters, this fighter has good maneuverability and can calmly intercept enemy high-altitude bombers, such as B-17 or subsequent B-29 strategic bombers.

Then, the plane began a series of flight demonstrations under the shocked eyes of everyone. Sometimes it rolls, sometimes hovers, like an eagle patrolling its territory.

"We are here to fly this kind of aircraft, right?" A pilot asked enviously, looking at the Raven fighter above his head.

"Yes! We're here to learn to fly this kind of fighter... It's not bad." Marceu also raised his head and replied subconsciously.

Hartman, who was standing beside him, was also fascinated, looking forward to the future in which he would drive a Raven fighter jet across the sky.

He was very yearning for this, and said: "Once we fly this kind of fighter, the fun of air combat will be gone."

"Yeah, it doesn't require any skills, just relying on the crushing of the weapon's performance is enough." Marceu, who had recovered, agreed with some loneliness.