FROM AN SR-71
PILOT.......A very interesting read.....
SR-71 Blackbird
In April 1986,
following an attack on American soldiers in a
My duty was to fly over
Qaddafi had established a 'line of death,' a
territorial marking across the
On the morning of
April 15, I rocketed past the line at 2,125 mph.
I was piloting the
SR-71 spy plane, the world's fastest jet, accompanied by a Marine Major (Walt),
the aircraft's reconnaissance systems officer (RSO).
We had crossed into
I quickly increased
our speed, calculating the time it would take for the weapons, most likely SA-2
and SA-4 surface-to-air missiles, capable of Mach 5 - to reach our altitude. I estimated, that we could beat the rocket-powered missiles to
the turn, and stayed our course, betting our lives on the plane's performance.
After several
agonizingly long seconds, we made the turn and blasted toward the
It was the fastest we
would ever fly. I pulled the throttles to idle, just south of
Scores of significant
aircraft have been produced, in the 100 years of flight, following the achievements
of the Wright brothers, which we celebrate in December.
Aircraft such as the
Boeing 707, the F-86 Sabre Jet, and the P-51 Mustang, are among the important
machines, that have flown our skies.
The SR-71, was the brainchild of Kelly Johnson, the famed Lockheed
designer, who created the P-38, the F-104 Starfighter, and the U-2. After
the Soviets shot down Gary Powers U-2 in 1960, Johnson began to develop an
aircraft, that would fly three miles higher, and five times faster, than the
spy plane, and still be capable of photographing your license plate.
In 1962, the first Blackbird
successfully flew, and in 1966, the same year I graduated from high School,
the Air Force began flying operational SR-71 missions. I came to the program
in 1983, with a sterling record and a recommendation from my commander, completing
the week-long interview, and meeting Walt, my partner for the next four years.
He would ride four feet behind me, working all the cameras, radios, and electronic
jamming equipment.
On a typical training
mission, we would take off near Sacramento, refuel over Nevada, accelerate
into Montana, obtain a high Mach speed over Colorado, turn right over New
Mexico, speed across the Los Angeles Basin, run up the West Coast, turn right
at Seattle , then return to Beale.
One day, high above
A Bonanza soon made the
same request.
'One-twenty on the ground,'
was the reply.
To our surprise, a navy F-18 came over the radio,
with a ground speed check.
I knew exactly what he
was doing.
The situation was too
ripe. I heard the click of Walt's mike button in the rear seat. In his most
innocent voice, Walt startled the controller by asking for a ground speed
check from 81,000 feet, clearly above controlled airspace.
The Blackbird always
showed us something new, each aircraft possessing its own unique personality. In
time, we realized we were flying a national treasure. When we taxied out of our
revetments for take-off, people took notice. Traffic congregated near the
airfield fences, because everyone wanted to see, and hear the mighty SR-71. You
could not be a part of this program, and not come to love the airplane. Slowly,
she revealed her secrets to us, as we earned her trust.
One moonless night, while flying a routine training
mission over the Pacific, I wondered what the sky would look like from 84,000
feet, if the cockpit lighting were dark. While heading home on a straight
course, I slowly turned down all of the lighting, reducing the glare and revealing
the night sky. Within seconds, I turned the lights back up, fearful that the
jet would know, and somehow punish me. But my desire to see the sky, overruled
my caution, I dimmed the lighting again. To my amazement, I saw a bright light
outside my window. As my eyes adjusted to the view, I realized that the brilliance
was the broad expanse of the Milky Way, now a gleaming stripe across the sky.
Where dark spaces in the sky, had usually existed, there were now dense clusters,
of sparkling stars. Shooting Stars, flashed across the canvas every few seconds.
It was like a fireworks display with no sound. I knew I had to get my eyes
back on the instruments, and reluctantly, I brought my attention back inside.
To my surprise, with the cockpit lighting still off, I could see every gauge,
lit by starlight. In the plane's mirrors, I could see the eerie shine of my
gold spacesuit, incandescently illuminated, in a celestial glow. I stole one
last glance out the window. Despite our speed, we seemed still before the
heavens, humbled in the radiance of a much greater power.
For those few moments,
I felt a part of something far more significant, than anything we were doing in
the plane. The sharp sound of Walt's voice on the radio, brought me back to the
tasks at hand, as I prepared for our descent.
The SR-71 was an
expensive aircraft to operate. The most significant cost was tanker support,
and in 1990, confronted with budget cutbacks, the Air Force retired the SR-71. The
SR-71 served six presidents, protecting
On a weekly basis, the
SR-71, kept watch over every Soviet Nuclear Submarine, and
I knew her well. She
gave way to no plane, proudly dragging her Sonic Boom through enemy backyards,
with great impunity. She defeated every missile, outran every MiG, and always brought
us home. In the first 100 years of manned flight, no aircraft was more remarkable.
The Blackbird had
outrun nearly 4,000 missiles, not once taking a scratch from enemy fire. On her
final flight, the Blackbird, destined for the Smithsonian National Air and Space
Museum, sped from Los Angeles to Washington in 64 Minutes, averaging 2,145 mph,
and setting four speed records.