ushernet Chapter 667 Epic Achievement Unlocked! There's More Than One!
Chapter 667 Epic Achievement Unlocked! There's More Than One!
Q: In this day and age, how difficult is it to establish an information channel from the Pentagon to Beijing?
Well, let's put it this way: back then, making a phone call from the US to Beijing was more difficult than teaching a panda to speak English.
If you were an ordinary person, you would first have to go to the telephone exchange three days in advance to fill out a form, just like registering to see a specialist. Yes, you read that right. Although the telephone service in the United States was relatively developed at this time, making long-distance calls still required going through the telephone exchange or long-distance telephone exchange.
It's a service provided by the famous AT&T.
The staff at the window will draw several circles on a piece of paper with a red pencil, telling you, "Just wait, whether you can get through depends entirely on God's will."
Why? Because back then, transoceanic calls relied on shortwave radio, and the signal was like a piece of yarn scratched by a cat, entirely dependent on the "mood" of the ionosphere. If there were a lot of sunspots, you could shout yourself hoarse into the microphone, and the other end might only hear a "buzzing" sound.
When some of these "leather-jacketed guys" strike again, one has to wonder if that idiot has pulled out another yellow car...
After finally getting your number called, you first have to clarify with the American operator: "It's not Nanjing, it's Beijing!" The operator might then spend ages flipping through a paper directory, muttering, "Connecting to Peking...maybe?"
The moment that "maybe" is uttered, you know it's risky—the line has to go through the UK first, and the London operator might be munching on a sandwich, mumbling, "Line busy, wait for God's sake."
Once the line was transferred to the European transit station, the French operator chimed in again: "Monsieur, the line is too busy, you'll have to wait two hours."
During this time, you have to hold the receiver still; if you put it down, you might lose all your progress, and your arms will be so sore that you could develop biceps.
After finally managing to get the signal to India, the operator in New Delhi chimes in, "Hello? Is this Beijing?" You have to shout to correct him, "It's Beijing! Beijing!" He'll say "Oh," and then smoothly transfer you to Hong Kong...
That's right. Now the signal has to bounce to a relay station in Britain or France, passing through seven countries along the way, before finally being handed over to the colonial control station in Hong Kong by capitalist operators wearing white gloves, before finally slipping shakily into mainland China.
Finally, the signal reached the Telegraph Building in Beijing. Our operator picked up the receiver, and the first thing he said was invariably, "Hello? Speak louder!"
Even if you're lucky enough to match their numbers, the call sounds like an argument in a market. You say, "Is everything alright at home?" and the other person hears it as, "Is everything alright at home?"
Every sentence had to be repeated three times, amidst various background noises. Sometimes it was Russian broadcasts from Moscow, sometimes it was Pingtan (a traditional storytelling and ballad singing art form) from Shanghai, and the most amazing time was when a fishing boat's shouts were mixed in: "The fish are just ahead!"
The total time taken is incalculable.
The only happy one is AT&T.
Because its billing method is utterly outrageous. The price for the first three minutes is enough to buy a used Ford Mustang, and every minute thereafter burns through your project budget. If a sandstorm hits Beijing or it rains in Washington, congratulations, your phone bill will become a science fiction novel—because you simply can't calculate how many dollars you'll have to pay for those invalid "Hello? Hello? I can't hear you!" calls…
So, back then, overseas calls basically followed the following procedure:
Mortgage property to raise money for phone bills.
He established revolutionary friendships with operators from seven countries.
Enjoy a full-on ASMR auditory feast with high definition.
After hanging up, I realized I'd been talking for twenty minutes, but the other person had only heard "Hello? Hello?"
The above procedure applies even to generals in the Pentagon who want to make a call.
Fortunately, their navy had access to satellite communication, a technology unique to them at the time, and Jiang Xia had also developed the world's first "digital radio station." Through signal bridging via the hovering "Airborne Early Warning and Control System-1," another epic achievement was made between the two sides regarding the Thresher submarine…
Ministerial-level meeting call!
We don't know the content of the call, but the comrades on "KJ-1" certainly wouldn't reveal a word about it. Jumping off the plane, they'll only proudly tell you that the image quality of the domestically produced SLR camera is excellent! It even preserved that wonderful moment in low-light conditions.
Faced with an utterly absurd reality, even overwhelming force seems powerless.
The survivors of the "Sea Eagle" had been rescued by our forces who arrived quickly. Liu Huaqing was soaking wet, limping, and had bruises on his face, but he was in high spirits. He and Xiao Zhao were helped onto the deck of the warship, where they watched with the officers and soldiers of the Anshan as our small boat carried back the chief engineer, Duan, who had once been inside the belly of the "Thresher Shark," and ran back triumphantly.
"Old Duan! You son of a bitch, you're not a brother! You can't do this again!"
The three of them hugged each other and sighed for a while.
The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, swept across the deck. In the distance, next to the USS Thresher, a submarine crowned with depth charges, two small boats carrying air extraction units were busily loading the submarine with air extraction equipment.
"Old Duan, did they manage to subdue you on the spot when you went in?"
Old Duan rubbed his hands together and chuckled, "Arrest me? They wouldn't dare! I went in with my 'imperial sword'!" He patted the grenade tucked into his waistband, "How dare they touch me? If I lose a single hair, their nuclear submarine can expect to turn into an underwater hot spring!"
"Hey! Luckily their radio station came on in time, otherwise I would have been the culprit for nuclear contamination..." Old Duan wiped away a cold sweat. "Seeing so many bald eagles, my head snapped, and I almost pulled the trigger!"
Xiao Zhao leaned closer, his ears, which couldn't be bandaged, perked up, his eyes shining brightly: "Chief Engineer, tell me quickly, what's the situation inside?"
"What else could it be? Just a scare tactic!"
Old Duan narrowed his eyes slightly, recalling what he had done inside the submarine, and laughed out loud. He took out the spoils he had brought from the submarine, looked them over, and then handed them to Liu Huaqing with both hands.
"Here, a gift for you! Don't blame me if I don't take you to your death with me!"
Liu Huaqing was so excited by the string of English words on the cover that he almost fell off the deck.
Perhaps it was the title on the cover that provoked him—"Submarine Commander" Operations Manual.
It turns out that just before that epic call began, our Lao Duan had already climbed to the top of the external ladder of the command tower.
After carefully avoiding that deadly "ball," I quickly peeked down.
On the command tower, five U.S. sailors were hanging from the railing like sandbags, acting as "makeshift ventilation fans."
"Speed up! The fuel-gas mixture has decreased significantly! I'm ready to switch on the shortwave radio!"
The submarine's communications officer kept yelling at the string of "dried meat".
“F**k this shit…” a sailor muttered under his breath, just as he was about to adjust his posture—
A dark figure fell from the sky and landed squarely on them!
"What the...?!"
Using the force of his fall, Lao Duan crashed into the crowd like a cannonball. Five American sailors, caught off guard, became the perfect human cushion, and screams erupted. Lao Duan himself, however, was unharmed, rolling over and getting to his feet.
"Surprise, motherf**kers!"
Well, that's just the author's imagination. Our soldiers wouldn't be so tasteless; they would only express themselves through their actions.
Seeing a guy wearing a boat-shaped hat with a star on it staring at him in surprise, Old Duan grinned and casually pulled out two grenades from his waist.
The command tower erupted into chaos. Just as several American officers were about to draw their guns, they saw the soaking wet soldier put a grenade to his mouth, his gleaming white teeth gripping the trigger ring tightly.
"Whoever moves will die!" Old Duan roared in broken English. "This is a 'glorious bomb'! Ondstend?"
"Damn it, this ship is mine now!"
The bald eagle officers stood frozen in place, their eyes wide with disbelief—they had seen madmen before, but never one like this, dripping wet, grinning, with a grenade pin dangling from his mouth!
"You...you're insane!"
"This is a nuclear submarine! Do you understand?"
"Understend! Understend!" Old Duan mumbled as he responded to the officer's angry shouts, not tolerating him either. He kicked the clueless guy so hard that he clutched his stomach and curled up on the ground.
Fortunately, the radio was turned on by the communications officer whose hands were shaking.
A series of bird calls instantly burst forth from the radio.
The captain gestured to the old man, raised his hands, slowly shuffled to the radio, picked up the communicator, and swallowed hard.
“DD-744, Sir…we have a situation. A Chinese sailor just boarded us. He's…he's got grenades. Says if we don't surrender, he'll blow up the reactor.”
Williams' face turned deathly pale, but he still managed to reply, "Reactors can't blow up!"
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the radio: "He doesn't know that..."
"Mother f**kers!"