Chuck Yeager’s 1947 Bell X-1 flight provides an effective benchmark for a much less familiar story: the Soviet Union’s parallel struggle with transonic aerodynamics, unreliable rocket propulsion and a design bureaucracy in which technical merit did not necessarily determine which aircraft survived. Rather than rushing directly to the MiG fighters that eventually became synonymous with Soviet aviation, the feature concentrates on experimental machines and overlooked designers whose work helped establish the knowledge needed for supersonic flight. That choice gives the history considerably more depth than a straightforward progression from MiG-15 to MiG-21 would have offered.
Alexander Moskaliyev forms the first major thread, and his unconventional aircraft make an excellent vehicle for explaining how radically designers were already thinking before suitable engines or control technology existed. The SA-7 flying wing, SA-M9 Strela and proposed RM-1 illustrate an evolutionary process rather than appearing merely as a collection of strange prototypes: unconventional layouts expose stability and landing problems, delta-wing experiments answer some questions, and rocket propulsion promises enough performance to pursue genuinely supersonic speeds. Particularly useful is the attention given to practical aerodynamic obstacles such as high landing angles, lateral instability and Mach tuck. The presentation repeatedly argues that Moskaliyev was extraordinarily far ahead of his time, although some comparisons with much later aircraft are more suggestive than sufficient evidence of direct technical foresight.
The account becomes less secure when it moves from engineering into institutional politics. Moskaliyev’s conflict with Alexander Yakovlev is presented as a deeply personal rivalry that supposedly cost him both the SAM-25 contract and ultimately the RM-1, with the later negative technical review characterized unequivocally as a politically engineered “hatchet job.” The sequence is detailed and internally coherent, including the earlier favorable assessment and later reversal, but motives are frequently stated with greater certainty than the evidence is demonstrated. The same problem recurs later when access to Rolls-Royce engines and Mikoyan family connections are used to explain Lavochkin’s disadvantages against MiG. These may be important parts of the story as presented, but the distinction between documented administrative decisions and the narrator’s interpretation of why individuals made them needs to be clearer.
Matus Bisnovat’s work provides the strongest bridge between failed rocket experiments and later Soviet weapons development. The DFS-346, Bisnovat 5 and miniature Bisnovat 6 test vehicles show how dangerous and iterative high-speed research could be, with models disappearing, oscillating, crashing and occasionally returning usable data. The eventual improvement of the Bisnovat 5’s lateral stability through changes around the wingtip skids is especially satisfying because an aerodynamic problem introduced earlier receives a tangible engineering response. Just as importantly, the narrative follows Bisnovat beyond the abandoned test aircraft into guided missile development, connecting the experimental work to the later design organization and weapons with which his career became associated.
Lavochkin’s LA-168 and LA-176 then give the long technical buildup a strong payoff. The discussion compares the LA-168 with the MiG-15 through specific claimed advantages in climb, maneuverability, altitude, controllability and transonic behavior rather than simply declaring one aircraft superior. An accidental near-Mach-1 dive leads logically to the more aggressively swept LA-176, culminating in Oleg Sokolovsky’s December 1948 supersonic flight. His death shortly afterward also prevents the achievement from becoming a simplistic triumphal ending, reinforcing how closely record-setting progress remained tied to the extraordinary risks accepted by test pilots.
The sheer amount of material is also the feature’s main presentation weakness. Aircraft designations, bureaus, ministries, designers, engines, experimental programs and overlapping timelines arrive at tremendous speed, while frequent references to earlier and future installments assume substantial familiarity with the larger series. Extended Patreon promotion and recurring jokes about Soviet incompetence, Stalinism, nationality and historical events occasionally break the momentum, and the deliberately irreverent retelling of World War II is particularly jarring beside accounts of fatal crashes, political persecution and wartime suffering. The humor is often genuinely effective when applied to bizarre aircraft or experimental mishaps, but it would benefit from more restraint when the underlying subject becomes serious.
What ultimately holds the sprawling narrative together is its emphasis on experimentation rather than famous production fighters. Supersonic Soviet aviation emerges here as the product of competing aerodynamic ideas, dangerous flight testing, propulsion limitations, institutional upheaval and repeated dead ends, with Moskaliyev, Bisnovat and Sokolovsky receiving unusual prominence. The historical assertions would be stronger with more visible sourcing and more cautious treatment of disputed motives, but the engineering explanations and connections between otherwise obscure programs make this a substantial and memorable account of how Soviet designers approached the sound barrier.
Pros
- Gives substantial attention to overlooked designers including Alexander Moskaliyev and Matus Bisnovat rather than concentrating exclusively on famous MiG aircraft.
- Connects experimental aircraft into a coherent technological progression involving delta wings, swept wings, Mach tuck, lateral instability, wing fences and transonic control.
- The Bisnovat 5 and 6 development sequence demonstrates particularly well how crashes and imperfect tests could still produce useful aerodynamic data.
- Following Bisnovat from experimental rocket aircraft into guided missile development gives his work meaningful historical continuity.
- The LA-168 and LA-176 section provides a strong culmination by connecting transonic testing directly to the first Soviet manned supersonic flight described.
- Repeated attention to test-pilot risk keeps the human consequences of experimental aviation visible alongside the technical achievements.
Cons
- Political explanations involving Yakovlev, Mikoyan and competing bureaus are sometimes presented as settled motives when the supporting evidence shown is less definitive.
- The enormous number of aircraft, organizations, engines and overlapping programs can become difficult to track at the rapid pace of narration.
- Frequent references to other installments make portions of the history less accessible as a standalone feature.
- Aggressive comedy sometimes clashes with discussions of fatal accidents, wartime devastation and political persecution.
- The promotional interruption arrives early in an otherwise effective historical setup and noticeably disrupts its momentum.
- Numerous precise historical and technical assertions are delivered without enough sourcing context for viewers to assess their certainty.
A fascinating collection of obscure prototypes becomes a broader story about how engineering ingenuity, dangerous experimentation and Soviet institutional politics intersected on the road to supersonic flight. The certainty attached to some political interpretations and the relentless comedic style warrant caution, but the technical progression and recovery of largely forgotten contributors give the history unusual depth and personality.
