learned a lot. And yet I operator. I take off on their own stories for the magazine, have a permanent assistant. And somehow strange - yesterday he was an assistant ... Believe me my tovarischistudenty when we reconvene in the fall in the institute?MOSCOW Moscow under me, summer 1931 We all felt this powerlessness - Let us love the film
and hand seen ... Antoine de SentEkzyuperi. Not far from the old Crimean Bridge, opposite Central Park on the clay bank Moskvyreki, were porters with boxes and aircraft parts.Start assembling the new gidrosamoletaamfibii test it on Moskvereke. I learned about it when passing by, hurrying to the volleyball training session in Central Park Iosilevich interested in my offer to play a short film about the assembly and testing of the first Soviet amphibian.The other day I was with the camera on the ground and waited superior to start shooting. We had to wait for long. Car drove me to an unknown brand, and out came a man in a bright yellow leather jacket and leather pants. - It? - I asked one of the workers. - It! .. I went, showed his documents and a letter from the studio.The letter stated that the studio decided to make a film about the trial of the aircraft. A man in a leather jacket carefully read the letter, toyed with my ID, looked at me curiously, kindly eyes, smiled: - And who will shoot you?For a moment I was scared - maybe I really can not do it, not be able to stay in your own movie? He looked down at me, quizzically. -? - Yes, I'll shoot! - And you're not afraid to fly? You fly someday? - He asked, angrily pushing shaggy eyebrows. - Dada, fly! - I lied quickly, fearing that depends on my flight over Moscow.A man in a leather jacket gently shut the door in the car and walked briskly down to the river, where people were busy in the fuselage. - Who is in a leather jacket? - I asked the technician. - It is very pilotispytatel Buchholz. Do you not know? I was confused and did not say anything. Buchholz Benedict was known, one might even say, a famous pilot and letchikomispytatelem that time.He came to the seaplane in his limousine. Personal car for that time was a rarity. Creaking leather jacket, he would get up because of the steering wheel and started all the blame for the slowness and laziness. He liked to let in the severity, but everyone knew his extraordinarily good heart. His weather-beaten face with wrinkles and glowing with natural good humor.Buchholz seemed to me an extraordinary man. It all was unusual in that typical representative flight romance thirties.
We soon became good friends, and often after work, sitting on boxes in the river and had long conversations on various topics.- How long you sleep - shouted Buchholz, meeting me on the quay, when I came after him. - In the age of high speeds for a long time can not sleep. And so it happened - was late, and I'll fly without you on another planet ... He wanted to fly around the Earth without landing. He loved to talk on this subject.Then his eyes lit up, his voice grew louder, the movement - sharper and gusty.