Live Stream 1980: Netizens Teach Me How to Make a Rocket by Hand

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A few days later, the special train left the plains and plunged into the towering mountains of the southwest.

Chengdu-Kunming Railway.

This railway line, known as the "Geological Museum," winds its way through cliffs and deep valleys for most of its route.

The "flat-lying special train" was escorted by a full-strength armed police squadron, plus twelve technical support personnel dispatched by the Fifth Academy of Aerospace Science and Technology.

"Slow down! Watch out for the curve ahead!"

At the junction of the carriages, the team leader, technician Lao Zhou, held a walkie-talkie and leaned half his body out to stare at the tracks ahead.

The special train went into a tunnel built in the 1960s.

The space was extremely cramped, and the light dimmed instantly.

Old Zhou's hands were sweating profusely; his palms were completely wet.

The rocket is too big.

As the train rounded the bend, due to the geometric deflection, the white outer wall of the arrow was less than ten centimeters away from the dark tunnel wall at its closest point.

Old Zhou stared intently at that gap.

With the slightest bump or a slightly stronger crosswind, the few-millimeter-thick skin would be torn apart by the rough rock wall like a piece of paper.

If the compartment ruptures and depressurizes, the entire compartment will be scrapped on the spot.

This is not just a financial loss, but it will also directly disrupt all subsequent launch schedules at the Southwest Base.

Old Zhou shrank back into the carriage and exhaled a heavy breath.

The armed police platoon leader handed over a green military water bottle:

"Have some water, Mr. Zhou."

"This road is difficult to travel, but we can breathe a sigh of relief once we cross the Daliang Mountains."

Old Zhou took the water bottle and gulped down a mouthful. Listening to the increasingly heavy rain outside, his brows furrowed into a deep knot.

"The rain is coming down too fast."

"The geological structure of the Daliang Mountains is prone to loosening during heavy rains, which could lead to accidents."

Good things don't come true, but bad things do.

As the special train entered the heart of the Daliang Mountains, the rain intensified into a torrential downpour.

A gray-white curtain of water stretched between heaven and earth, and large raindrops pounded on the roof of the carriage, making a heart-stopping roar.

Suddenly, a screeching sound of brakes came from below the train.

The immense inertia caused everyone in the carriage to lurch forward.

Old Zhou stumbled and steadied himself, but before he could even ask a question, the armed police captain had already pushed open the iron gate and jumped down.

Less than two minutes later, the company commander, soaking wet, climbed up, wiped the mud off his face, and said in a deep voice:

"Engineer Zhou, this is a huge problem."

"Landslide two kilometers ahead."

Old Zhou's head buzzed, his heart clenched, and he immediately jumped out of the car and ran forward with the squadron leader.

In the torrential rain, the beam of a flashlight cleaved through the thick mist.

Old Zhou stopped in his tracks.

The railway tracks ahead were no longer visible.

Half of the mountain was softened by the rain and collapsed entirely.

Tons of red mud and gravel, mixed with thick pine trees uprooted, completely buried the railway track more than 200 meters ahead.

The pile of mud was as high as two stories.

The train conductor rushed over from the front of the train and shouted:

"We need to contact the maintenance depot immediately to send a tracked excavator!"

"And while you're at it, get some detonators and explosives to blast those big rocks inside, otherwise we won't be able to clear it out at all!"

"No!"

Old Zhou suddenly turned around and roared, his voice cracking.

"Absolutely no explosives!"

The train conductor was stunned:

"How do we move those huge rocks without using explosives?"

Old Zhou pointed to the special train behind him, his eyes red:

"The carriages are carrying carrier rockets!"

"The skin is only a few millimeters thick!"

"The shockwave from the explosives, combined with the sonic resonance in the valley, could shatter the rocket's outer skin on the spot!"

"What about the excavator?"

"Heavy tracked machinery won't work either."

Old Zhou wiped the rain from his eyes.

"Heavy machinery operating near the railway tracks causes excessive ground vibrations, which the delicate instruments inside the rocket compartment cannot withstand!"

The scene fell into silence.

Only the howling wind and rain roared in my ears.

No explosives or heavy machinery can be used.

But the mudslide was right in front of us.

And it's still raining.

Everyone knows that if the rain in the Liangshan Mountains gets too heavy, there is a possibility of further landslides.

The launch schedule for the Red Star 2 rocket is already locked.

This is the key to whether China's commercial launches can continue to generate stable profits, and it is also the foundation for future manned spaceflight.

If we are delayed in the mountains for a few days, all subsequent testing, final assembly, and satellite-rocket integration will have to be postponed.

One slow step leads to another chaotic one.

The armed police platoon leader looked at the mudslide mountain, then looked back at the sleeping special train.

He took off his military cap, wrung it out to remove the rainwater, and put it back on his head properly.

"No explosives, no excavators."

"Then we'll use people."

The squadron leader turned his head and looked at the dozens of armed police officers who had followed him.

"Everyone has it!"

"arrive!"

In the torrential rain, dozens of voices rang out in unison.

"Get shovels and pickaxes."

"If you don't have tools, just use your hands!"

The squadron leader pointed to the muddy mountain ahead, his voice piercing through the rain.

"Dig a road through it!"

Old Zhou gritted his teeth, turned around, and shouted to the twelve technicians:

"Leave four people to monitor the air pressure gauges in the carriage!"

"The rest of you, follow me!"

On a rainy night, a primitive disaster relief effort began.

Armed police officers and researchers took off their cumbersome raincoats, rolled up their sleeves, and rushed directly into the mud.

If you don't have enough shovels, use wooden planks as spades;

The rock was too big to move, so a dozen people used their shoulders to push it up and carry it.

News of the mudslide blocking the railway quickly spread to nearby towns and villages via telephone.

Two hours later, a long line of torches and flashlights lit up the mountain path.

Villagers from three nearby villages, along with railway maintenance workers from the road maintenance team, arrived overnight, carrying hoes, carrying poles, and thick hemp ropes, wading through mud up to their calves.

The old Party Secretary, who was in his sixties and had a tattered fertilizer bag draped over his head, walked up to the squad leader:

"I heard that a government-owned treasure is stuck in our mountains?"

"We have brought a total of 120 able-bodied men from our three villages. Follow my instructions!"

"Fellow villager..."

The company commander's voice was hoarse.

"Stop dawdling!"

"If this rain continues, the area behind will collapse!"

The old Party Secretary waved the shovel in his hand.

More than a hundred men plunged into the mud without hesitation.

The night sky was pitch black, and torrential rain poured down.

Under the dim yellow light of the searchlights, there were hundreds of people covered in yellow mud, their facial features indistinguishable.

They encountered a thick pine trunk, five or six meters long, lying across the railway tracks, and dozens of people tightly wrapped it with thick hemp rope.

"One! Two! Pull!"

The rough shouts tore through the rainy night.

Those calloused hands were marked with deep bloodstains from the hemp rope, their shoulders were pressed into the mud, and their legs were desperately gripping the sleepers.

Someone fell down, got up, spat out the mud and water in their mouth, and continued to lunge towards the rope.

The tree trunk loosened little by little in the mud.

They were gradually pulled off the tracks.

And less than 500 meters behind them.

Inside that specially designed carriage, a pure white launch vehicle lay quietly.

It represents the most advanced level of fluid mechanics, materials science and industrial manufacturing in China in 1985.

It's an extremely incongruous yet soul-stirring image.

The most cutting-edge industrial marvels are comfortably on the train.

And escorting it were the most primitive flesh and blood of the Chinese people.

The soil was dug away inch by inch, and sections of steel rails were exposed one by one.

A full ten hours of hard work.

When it got light, the rain stopped.

A clean passage was carved out of a mudslide debris pile more than 200 meters long by hundreds of pairs of bare hands.

Old Zhou slumped down beside the railway tracks, his fingernails filled with black grime, and his palms swollen from exertion.

The villagers sat on the edge of the mud pit, smoking the cigarettes handed out by the armed police, watching the white special train slowly start and steadily pass through the tunnel they had just dug.

"This lump of iron is so clean and white."

A young villager wiped the mud off his face and grinned sheepishly.

"That's something that's meant to be sent to heaven, it's incredibly precious."

The old Party Secretary rubbed his arm and said.

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