Chapter 110: 109, Test Driving The F220—it Should Be Called A Monster Airplane
Farman Company’s people left, but the banquet continued.
Fang Wen, as the banquet host, finally began normal socializing.
Led by consulate staff, he met the guests one by one and greeted them politely.
Among these people, there were also businessmen who wanted to establish business relations with the East and proactively extended an olive branch to Fang Wen.
For example, wine, restaurant, clothing, etc.
Fang Wen showed an interested expression on the surface, but in his heart, he was not optimistic about these businesses.
In this situation, it would only get worse, and any daily investment behavior could result in total loss.
By around 9 p.m., the guests left one after another.
In the end, only the consulate people and those Lin Shuiwang invited to help remained.
After chatting with the consulate side, Fang Wen returned.
The banquet site had been cleaned up, with various banquet props piled to one side.
Everyone was waiting in the back kitchen and stood up one after another when they saw Fang Wen coming.
Fang Wen clasped his fists in salute: “Thank you all for your hard work. Lin Shuiwang will handle the reward settlement, and it can be settled now.”
“We don’t want money.” Someone spoke up.
The others also chimed in: “Exactly, what money do we need for contributing to the country.”
“One thing is one thing. We really have to thank everyone for the help to make this happen. By the way, everyone hasn’t eaten yet, right? Let’s find a place to gather.”
Fang Wen came up with the idea of making friends in Paris’s Chinese circle and expanding his network.
His words matched everyone’s intentions.
Uncle Chen, who runs a restaurant, suggested: “Then go to my restaurant. I’ll treat for tonight’s night snack, Mr. Fang, don’t compete with me for this.”
“Alright, then we’ll wrap up here and then at”
“Rue au Maire.” Uncle Chen said.
“Yes, gather at Uncle Chen’s restaurant on Rue au Maire.”
Immediately, everyone got to work, loading the banquet props into the car, returning what needed to be returned, and discarding what needed to be discarded.
10:30 p.m. at night.
On Rue au Maire in Paris’s 3rd arrondissement, a group of Chinese people in various clothes gathered at the Chinese restaurant.
Uncle Chen personally cooked roasted meat, roast fish, plus several large plates of fried rice.
Everyone pushed tables together into a circle, eating and chatting.
“Mr. Fang, is the situation back home okay?”
“Not good. The Japanese have crossed Shanhaiguan and are fighting the National Army at the Great Wall.”
The topic started, making people dejected.
Lin Baoluo sighed: “The world is going to be in chaos. Problems are arising here in Europe too. The Weimar Republic had a demonstration of 100,000 people the day before yesterday, and it turned into a fight.”
“Who fought whom?” Lin Shuiwang asked.
“The newspaper said it was an anti-fascist demonstration, but Stormtroopers tried to stop it, leading to a conflict.”
Fang Wen listened to Lin Baoluo’s words, lost in thought.
Anti-fascist demonstration, possibly the last struggle against the Nazis. The Weimar Republic’s situation was already doomed; no one could stop the Little Mustache from taking power.
But now, the Weimar Republic must be extremely chaotic internally. Even if the Nazis took power, internal management couldn’t keep up.
Perhaps there was a chance to seize something from the chaos, like getting a batch of German production lines.
He set his next destination as the Weimar Republic.
Shaking off his thoughts, Fang Wen spoke up to ask about what interested him most at this stage.
“Who knows the exchange rate between the franc and the US dollar?”
Someone immediately answered: “I know, one US dollar exchanges for 19.6 francs.”
Fang Wen took out paper and pen, calculated, and found that 4.8 million francs was about 244,900 US dollars.
This was most of the wealth he brought; was it too expensive?
It seemed he had to wait until after the test drive to bargain.
By the way, there was also the tung oil business. He currently controlled domestic supply sources; could it be sold in Europe?
After war broke out, tung oil prices would keep rising, and it wasn’t just the United States that needed it.
He asked: “Who knows about tung oil sales in Europe?”
Everyone was silent, but a short man raised his hand.
“I know. As early as the Qing Dynasty, there were already specialized sea vessels transporting tung oil to Europe for sale. They set up warehouses in Shanghai and Guangzhou to receive goods, shipped them via sea routes through Malacca, Suez, landed in the Mediterranean Sea, and transported to shipyards across Europe.”
Fang Wen nodded. It seemed the tung oil business could only stick to the Boeing Company line; going further would involve many people’s interests, and it wasn’t worth the trouble.
He gave up the idea of competing with Europe’s century-old tung oil sales network.
January 7.
Just one night later, Farman Company people found Fang Wen through the consulate.
Although they hadn’t made a final decision, they agreed to Fang Wen’s request to visit and test drive.
“Can I go now?” Fang Wen asked. Time in Europe was tight; he couldn’t stay in one place forever. Once settled, he had to go to the next destination.
He spoke in English; the Farman executive sent to receive him also spoke English.
“Yes, but you must accept our test flight training.” The Farman person replied.
“No problem, let’s head out now.”
Fang Wen changed into that washed flight suit and got into Farman Company’s car to head there.
The car drove out of Paris and arrived at the Farman Aircraft Factory after a two-hour drive.
It was quite remote but very spacious.
At the front of the manufacturing plant was a test flight runway built by the company itself. One side of the runway had a hangar, and the other side parked many old-style airplanes.
Those were biplanes once produced by Farman, looking worn due to their age.
The car drove on the road beside the runway without stopping, all the way to the rear of the manufacturing plant.
There was a larger hangar with two large monoplane aircraft parked inside.
From rough observation of the specs, they should be Farman F.220 land-based night bombers.
Workers at the aircraft manufacturing plant were busy on the plane to the right, installing metal outer shells on the wings.
Fang Wen asked: “Which one?”
The Farman executive leading him pointed to the left: “The left one.”
Fang Wen carefully examined the airplane.
Actually, the two airplanes looked similar in shape.
But they gave a very strange feeling.
Unlike the popular aerodynamic curved fuselages of the time, the Farman F.220’s external structure was surprisingly geometric and blocky.
Its huge nose was like a monster.
Why design it like this? Was it pursuing some kind of war aesthetic?
Fang Wen was stunned by this stunningly bizarre shape.
But whether this airplane suited him ultimately depended on flying it.
He looked at the Farman executive beside him and said: “Can we arrange the test drive training now?”
“No problem.” The Farman executive waved and shouted: “Borei, come here.”
From a corner of the hangar, a pilot sitting on a stool reading a comic book stood up, walked over, and extended a hand to Fang Wen.
“Hello, I’m Borei, the test pilot for this airplane, responsible for your training.”
He also spoke English. For this free deal, Farman people were very attentive.
After shaking hands with him, Fang Wen and he started talking.
After some conversation, the test pilot was surprised.
“You’ve flown so many airplanes? Boeing 247 and P-26 are both models I want to fly. It seems you should have no problem piloting the Farman F.220.”
“I’m not sure about that; after all, it’s a completely different airplane.” Fang Wen paused and asked: “By the way, what do you feel about piloting this monster airplane?”
“Monster airplane?” Borei smiled knowingly. “Yes, I’ve always wanted to call it that; it’s too weird. I even suspect its designer was an abstract painter.”
“I feel the same.” As Fang Wen and Borei talked, their relationship warmed up, and they entered the inside of the aircraft.
The airplane had a high-front low-rear landing configuration; boarding required entering through the boarding gate in the mid-fuselage.
Once inside, the space was very large.
There was a bomb bay, bomb-dropping and loading devices, machine gun firing room.
The reason for such large internal space was that the engines were not inside.
It surprisingly had two pods installed on each side, with two engines per pod.
This design astonished Fang Wen even more.
Engines externalized—weren’t they easy targets for enemies?
And they were under the left and right wings, even more obvious.
It could really only be used as a night bomber; flying during the day was just asking to be shot down.
If it was a night bomber, the machine gun positions were completely unnecessary; night bombers had no chance for machine gun shooting.
Fang Wen couldn’t help complaining: “I think the machine guns can be removed; it can just be used as a night bomber and transport aircraft.”
Borei turned and looked; no one was behind. Since only the two of them were inside the aircraft, he spoke frankly too.
“I think so too.”
Fang Wen patted the side of the cabin. “With engines mounted outside, there’s no chance to fire the machine guns.”
“Yes. If you make me fly this airplane into battle during the day, I’d absolutely refuse.” Borei strongly agreed.
The two chatted as they entered the cockpit.
The cockpit was at the very top, with space below for the machine gun firing cabin.
Next, Borei began explaining the functions of various instruments in the airplane.
Those instrument panels were in French; Fang Wen had to record them one by one and match them.
After introducing the basic structure of the airplane, Borei began the first demonstration flight.
It was a dual pilot seat; Fang Wen sat in the co-pilot seat feeling it.
Under Borei’s operation, the airplane started and slowly taxied out of the hangar.
Fang Wen also entered the mechanical perception state, getting to know the airplane.
Without the mechanical perception state, it was a top-down piloting state where the pilot was a small individual controlling a huge machine.
In the mechanical perception state, Fang Wen became the airplane.
Although he couldn’t fully control the airplane, the co-pilot could still understand many conditions.
In fact, this airplane’s structure was relatively simple.
But its performance was genuine.
As the airplane climbed into the air, Fang Wen, having understood the airplane’s situation, compared it to the ones he had piloted.
P-26 had a 600 horsepower engine; for speed and flexibility, the fuselage was compact, and range was short.
Boeing 247 had two 550 horsepower engines, speed lower than the F.220, and range of only over 700 kilometers.
It could be said that although the F.220 was a bit ugly, it had fully realized its potential.
2000 km range, 2400 horsepower, 8 tons payload.
With such performance, in the next few years, no other airplane except the B-17 could compare to it.
Therefore, the problems seen earlier were no longer problems.
After three days of test flight training, Fang Wen had mastered the flight essentials of the F.220.
When he requested a test drive, test pilot Borei looked incredulous.
But Fang Wen’s performance over these three days was unmatched by other pilots.
In 3 days, this magical Eastern pilot mastered the various flight parameters and mechanical performance of a heavy engine airplane.
Perhaps he really could pilot the airplane into the air.
Borei hesitated but agreed to Fang Wen’s test drive request.
The two switched positions; Borei sat in the co-pilot, Fang Wen in the pilot seat.
“Are you sure you can do it?” Borei still asked worriedly.
“Yes.”
After saying that, Fang Wen skillfully flipped each instrument switch.
Then he turned on the radio and handed the microphone to Borei.
Borei said in French: “F.220 prototype No. 1, requesting takeoff.”
After approval came over the radio, Fang Wen started the airplane.
At this moment, he became an old hand at the F.220, controlling it with even more skilled operations than Borei, steadily taxiing out of the hangar, accelerating evenly, and flying into the air.
Throughout the process, Borei nervously observed and found that Fang Wen made no mistakes.
As if he had piloted the F.220 many times before.
This was a large bomber, with extremely strict requirements for operational details, yet he had mastered it all perfectly.
“You…” Borei was speechless and gave a thumbs up.
Fang Wen’s test drive was just beginning.
He controlled the F.220 to climb to 6000 meters altitude and began testing high-altitude circling, ascent, descent, dive.
Basic flight operations were enough to pilot the F.220; spins, stall climbs, etc., were not to be attempted on this airplane.
Its function was to carry large amounts of bombs for bombing or temporarily transport large amounts of supplies; other things had nothing to do with it.
After two days and 10 hours of test driving.
Fang Wen confirmed that the F.220’s performance met his requirements.
At this time, Farman’s executives also agreed to the plan.
Immediately after Fang Wen’s test drive ended, they invited him to Farman Company’s headquarters in Paris.
There, Fang Wen, translator Lin Shuiwang, and 6 Farman executives were in the same meeting room for negotiations.
“After discussion, we agree to your request. That F.220 prototype will be sold to you at cost price of 4.8 million francs.” A Farman executive said.
Lin Shuiwang translated.
But Fang Wen shook his head.
“Tell them, after two days of test driving, I think 4.8 million francs is too expensive.”
Lin Shuiwang’s translation surprised them, and one executive showed an angry expression: “Are you toying with us?”
“No.” Fang Wen stood up and replied to them.
“As a pilot, I strongly protest your bizarre design that disregards the safety of aerial pilots. Tell me, why mount the engines in such an obvious and dangerous position? With hundreds of hours of flight experience and aerial combat experience, I can confidently tell you that in combat, the area under the wings is the most likely to be hit.”
Lin Shuiwang also stood up, made an indignant gesture, and translated Fang Wen’s words into French.
Immediately, their anger dissipated, and they whispered to each other.
Then, their tone softened.
“We want to know, do you still want to buy this airplane?”
It seemed his words had worked; Fang Wen also softened his attitude accordingly.
“This airplane is indeed very dangerous in wartime, but I buy it to use as a large transport aircraft for transporting large amounts of air mail, which is acceptable. The problem is your quotation is too expensive; I can’t convince the higher-ups.”
Hearing Lin Shuiwang’s translation, one executive was still unwilling.
“4.8 million francs isn’t expensive; no airplane on the market achieves this performance.”
Fang Wen nodded: “I know, but accounts aren’t calculated that way. 4.8 million francs is worth about 245,000 US dollars. With the same price, I can buy several brand-new civilian transport aircraft, which can also solve the carrying capacity problem. Since it has no military value, it can’t be traded at the original price.”
In this negotiation, Fang Wen focused on one point: using the F.220’s issues to press the price.
He felt that for a windfall of wealth, they wouldn’t give it up, and taking a little less was fine.
This idea was indeed human nature, and Fang Wen had guessed the thoughts of the 6 executives.
After some discussion, they asked.
“How much are you willing to pay?”
“100,000 US dollars down payment; you ship the airplane to Kolkata Port, and I’ll pay the remaining 80,000 US dollars upon receipt there.”
Fang Wen stated his quotation.
Staged payments could ensure cargo transport and reduce the down payment goods payment to 100,000 US dollars, leaving the remaining 200,000 US dollars for two other things.
As for shipping the F.220 to Kolkata Port, Fang Wen had considered it.
On the route from Asia to Europe, some airports weren’t suitable for landing the F.220, and such a large military aircraft transiting sovereign countries would be troublesome; Turkey and the Pahlavi dynasty wouldn’t agree.
Better to sea transport directly to Kolkata and then make the final leg back home.
As for why not ship directly home, it was because Japanese warships controlled East Asian waters, making it impossible.
Now that Fang Wen had made the offer, it depended on whether Farman people accepted.
They began negotiating again.
Ultimately, they couldn’t refuse this windfall.
“We agree.”
