(See Cover)
In Moscow on Aviation Day, all roads lead to Tushino. Even before dawn, thousands of streetcars and buses stream towards the huge airfield twelve miles from the city's heart. By 11 a.m. one day last month, 500,000 people blotted out the flag-decked stands, overflowed on to nearby railroad embankments. In the reviewing stand, flanked by his Politburo, stood Joseph Stalin himself. The Soviet national anthem blared out over the plain. "Dear Comrades, Muscovites," crackled the loudspeakers, "the festival of Stalin's aviation has started."
The thunder of 100 guns died away; the ragged beat of engines jockeying in formation filled the air. The first plane bore a gigantic picture of Stalin. A 96-plane formation of civilian flyers spelled out Slava Stalinu (Glory to Stalin). Twenty-five light trainers soared through a huge loop. "The famous airman Nesterov was the first to make a loop of this kind," boasted the rich loudspeaker voice. "Stand guard over our beloved country. Glory to our youth, glory to our country."
At a field radio, a young airman in a grey-green general's uniform adjusted his earphones. "Guards Lieut. General V. Stalin is now at the command post," the loudspeaker announced. "The military part of the display now starts." Suddenly, two silvery, swept-wing MIG-15 jets hurtled across the field headed directly at each other, skidded narrowly past, shot away close to the speed of sound. Five new types of swept-wing jet fighters flashed past, outracing the banshee wail of their engines. Column after column of MIG-15s paraded over the crowd, followed by 100 four-engine Russian copies of the U.S. B29, seaplanes, amphibians, a new twin-jet naval light bomber. Nine helicopters whirled up, rainbows of parachutists floated down from huge transports.
"We are men of peace, glorious sons of our mighty country," said the voice. "Glory to Stalin's falcons, glory to our aviation, mightiest in the world. Glory to the creator of Soviet aviation, Stalin."
After an hour and a half, the spectacle was over. Moscow's citizens, tired, proud and reassured, headed for home. That night, in the Western embassies, the air attaches fleshed out their scribbled skeletal notes on what they had seen in this brief afternoon, when Soviet Russia ungloved its winged fist. By last week, their reports had been studied and analyzed by every Western government.
Golden Falcons. Discounting all that must be discounted in a carefully staged, carefully controlled performance, their reports confirm the West's knowledge of Russia's impressive air strength: at least 20,000 first-line planes, about 50% of them jet fighters and light bombers, the rest World War II prop-driven models. Careful estimates put Russian production at about 8,500 new planes each year, almost twice the current U.S. rate. Western intelligence has some hints of Russia's far advanced research in supersonic speed ranges and armament; its hundreds of air bases; its large pool of tough, dedicated professional airmen.