Chapter 49

Certainly, here's the passage you provided with improved English:

In 1991, the Ukrainian Air Force pilots were not considered the world's top-ranking air force, although they did receive technological assistance that made them formidable in the skies. However, in subsequent military exercises alongside Eagle Sauce, friendly forces from both sides encountered issues in the air. Post-millennium, they became known as "the worst air force in the world."

It must be noted that the situation was quite challenging.

Inside the Air Force Club, Tang Dao observed a group of assembled pilots who appeared disinterested and disheveled. Some even emitted the scent of alcohol, causing Tang Dao to have reservations about them.

"This is Mr. Nicholas. He requires experienced pilots. Gentlemen, if any of you are interested, you can interview," Gorbanov said with a smile, his facial flesh quivering.

The assembled pilots had evidently heard the news, but their response was muted, with most of them eyeing each other skeptically.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I have always held great admiration for soldiers, and I'm willing to personally donate $30,000 to improve the Air Force Club's conditions, ensuring that everyone can better safeguard Ukraine's skies," Tang Dao began, extending an olive branch. As expected, the pilots immediately perked up, their initial skepticism replaced by excitement.

As a specialized technical unit, their salaries weren't low, but their benefits had been substantially reduced, barely enough to make ends meet. What bothered them even more was the Air Force Club's meager alcohol supply. How could they fly without alcohol? They had protested numerous times, but the logistics department claimed there was no remedy.

Upon hearing the cheers, Gorbanov, though slightly embarrassed, applauded as well, not wanting to undermine Tang Dao's offer in public.

"We are a comprehensive foreign trade company urgently in need of 20 qualified crew members. If selected, the annual salary will not be less than $150,000, along with semi-annual and year-end bonuses. Additional bonuses and subsidies may be awarded depending on performance."

$150,000!?

The sound of a pin dropping could be heard in the club, with only Tang Dao's voice resonating, followed by rapid and enthusiastic exclamations.

"Choose me! I've piloted Su-27 fighter jets for over 400 hours."

"I possess the Air Force Hero Medal from the Soviet Union, with a safe distance record of over 20,000 kilometers!"

"I've flown four different models..."

This assembly of elite pilots went into a frenzy, vying for attention. Their enthusiasm even unnerved Tang Dao, causing him to take a step back. Jin Dun and others rushed forward to shield him, while Gorbanov, though complaining inwardly, also joined in the applause.

Tang Dao's offer seemed generous to outsiders, but in the era of thriving private airlines around the millennium, he knew it couldn't compete. At that time, many companies offered annual salaries ranging from $400,000 to $500,000 to attract top-notch pilots.

In the 21st century, talent was the most valuable commodity.

"Gentlemen, please calm down," Tang Dao implored, wiping his brow. "While I'm offering this substantial salary, the requirements are equally high. First, no drinking alcohol or bringing pets on board during flights, especially bears. Second, our company's primary operations are currently in Africa. If that doesn't suit you, please refrain from raising your hand. Lastly, a minimum ten-year contract with the company is mandatory. If you can't commit to that, there's no need to waste your time."

While these requirements seemed reasonable to others, to Soviet pilots, they were excessive.

Their thirst for alcohol outweighed their desire for U.S. dollars. Some lowered their hands angrily, while others protested, "Flying under the influence is safest; you can't feel the wind's pain."

Tang Dao clenched his jaw and remained silent. He couldn't engage in safety discussions with a bunch of inebriated pilots. He entrusted the selection process to Jin Dun and turned to him, saying, "I leave this to you. Choose in accordance with my criteria. I don't want my money going to waste."

"Understood, Boss," Jin Dun replied, nodding. He instructed two bodyguards to assemble a table and called for volunteers to sign up. He also asked Gorbanov to find someone familiar with aviation to conduct assessments, ensuring no subpar candidates slipped through.

At this point, Gorbanov approached, resembling a pyramid schemer. "Mr. Nicholas, is there anything else you require?"

Tang Dao shrugged, indicating he was content with the current arrangement. His bank account had taken a significant hit, and he couldn't afford any more expenditures. He had other plans in mind.

With a polite expression, he turned to Jin Dun and said, "I entrust this to you. Ensure the selection process aligns with my criteria. I don't want my money to go to waste."

With these parting words, Tang Dao's car pulled away, leaving behind a scene of complicated emotions in the Soviet political arena and among the ordinary people.

Gorbanov, though initially disappointed by Tang Dao's disinterest in other matters, was reinvigorated and invited him to the cafeteria for a celebratory drink.

"Are we having denatured alcohol?" Tang Dao quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"No need to worry, General," Gorbanov replied, "I'm sure you'll come to appreciate the complexity of capitalism, curiosity, fear, repulsion, and joy all rolled into one."

After saying his goodbyes, Tang Dao began contemplating his plans for the future, eager to make his mark in Africa's turbulent landscape.