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History

When a Pitts Special Nearly collided with RAF Jaguar Display Pilot

by Till Daisd November 23, 2021

“For a microsecond, time stands still. The huge red letters on the top wing and fuselage of the Pitts Special spell the name of a well-known cigarette. They sweep past my canopy in slow time. An open-mouthed, white-faced pilot looks across the incredibly small gap between us,” Ian Smith, Former RAF Jaguar Display Pilot

A portion of Flight Lieutenant Ian Smith’s story, “Showing It Off,” from Ian Hall’s book Jaguar Boys is included in the following article.

Speed 100kts decreasing; top of wingover.

It’s the 1979 RAF Innsworth display, and I’m operating out of Rhoose airport.

Fuel check; yes, just enough for the final high-speed pass.

Hard pull back down, and there’s the crowd line over my shoulder. Should get 600kts plus on this pass; not too much G on the pullout, don’t want to bleed off the speed. Radalt height 300ft, 200, 100; push forward to stop it from climbing as the speed continues to increase. Best not go too low on my first display; as well as all the brass, the aircrew appointers work here and I’d like a good posting at the end of this tour.

Background static coming through the headset: “Pitts positioning from hold to display point overhead at 8,000ft.”

“Pitts, hold off. Jaguar high-speed pass and display climb complete in one minute, acknowledge.”

“Roger.”

Perfect; timing spot on. There’s crowd center; 7g; pulling like a bastard into the vertical; quick check left, right, yup that’s vertical; boot full of rudder and aileron to get a vertical roll going; 5,000ft, 6,000ft, 7,000ft, 8,000ft; looking good. Where’s Rhoose? There’s the Bristol Channel, it will be somewhere over that way then.

Whoosh!

Airshow Close Call: That Time a Pitts Special Nearly Collided with RAF Jaguar Display Pilot Doing his Final High-Speed Pass

What the hell’s that?

For a microsecond, time stands still. The huge red letters on the top wing and fuselage of the Pitts Special spell the name of a well-known cigarette. They sweep past my canopy in slow time. An open-mouthed, white-faced pilot looks across the incredibly small gap between us. In an instant, he’s gone, leaving a shocked and very grumpy Jaguar pilot. I swear, if it had been one-to-one aerial combat I could have shot him twice in the head with a 9mm pistol, it was that close.

The Pitts pilot had ignored display protocol and ATC’s implicit instructions to hold off and had maneuvered, unobserved, into the overhead. The consequences of a mid-air crash over the display don’t bear thinking about.

However, no time to dwell on that, I’ll be able to have a frank and meaningful discussion with him later. I now need to head back to Rhoose, that high-speed pass had used up more fuel than I thought. A quick calculation; from my altitude of 20,000ft an idle/idle approach shouldn’t use up much fuel. An idle run-in and break, and there’ll be enough fuel to taxi onto the ramp where the ground crew waits to get the aircraft turned round for the Rhoose display in the afternoon.

“How did it go, Sir?” asks Mac as I sit in a trance, locked silently in my thoughts at 8,000ft over Innsworth, musing about what could so easily have been my premature demise.

“What? Oh, no problems. Well, nearly no problems. Where are the bloody Pitts team parked?”

Former RAF Jaguar pilot tells the story of when he was shot down by a RAF Phantom interceptor

What a start to the first display of my first season of Jaguar display flying. During this and the following two seasons, I can honestly say I never got closer to early retirement to the big crew room in the sky. I learned my first lesson in display flying on that sunny day; never ever relax until the jet is in the hangar and you are in the bar.

Photo by Tim Felce (Airwolfhound) and Rob Schleiffert from Holland via Wikipedia, and Flickr

November 23, 2021 0 comment

History

Recalling the tragic 1983 U.S. attack on Lebanon

by Till Daisd November 23, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Lt. Mark Adam Lange, a member of the A-6 crew, was injured during the ejection and passed away shortly after. After being handed over to Syrian forces, B/N Lt. Bobby Goodman spent many weeks in a detention facility close to Damascus

During the Vietnam War, the Grumman A-6 Intruder served as the “Main Battery” of carrier aviation. It was still in use by the US Navy and US Marine Corps in 1996. The A-6 was still the most potent strike aircraft on a carrier flight deck during the 1983 American attack on Lebanon because it was a true all-weather, day/night precision bomber.

The USS Independence (CV-62) continued after Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada in 1983 and eventually replaced USS Eisenhower (CVN-69), which was departing for home. These were still the days when the Sixth Fleet had two carriers assigned, and CV-62 joined USS John F. Kennedy (CV-67), which had CVW-3 — the first “dual A-6” air wing — onboard, as explained by Rick Morgan in his book A-6 Intruder Units 1974-96. Vice Adm. Jerry O. Tuttle, a renowned naval aviator with a background in light attacks, served as both the commander of Carrier Group Two and the commander of the Battle Fleet Sixth Fleet while serving as the senior officer on board CV-67.

The collapse of Lebanon, formerly known as “the Paris of the Middle East,” was at the forefront of world events at this time as many parties engaged in violence and disorder while citing various religious reasons. In order to help stabilize a fast destabilizing situation, the U.S. government sent Marines ashore in Beirut out of concern for a much larger battle involving Syria and Israel. To demonstrate the nation’s resolve, it also positioned two carriers offshore.

According to one of Turtle’s staff officers, Lt. Cdr. Joe Hulsey, ‘we had been on constant alert for weeks, with one carrier being in “alert 30” with aircraft fully loaded and crews briefed, while the other flight deck conducted normal flight ops. This changed every 24 hours in order to share the load. The force was ready, having prepared more than 300 potential targets in the region. We had timing and weapons loads planned for all of them, and all of this information was sent up the chain to Sixth Fleet and CINCEUR [Commander in Chief, US Forces Europe] so that they’d know what we were prepared to do. On top of that, we had Jerry Tuttle in charge. He was exactly who you’d want in that position if you were going over the beach.’

Up until around December 1, when the carriers got orders to stand down from constant alert, the hair-trigger state persisted. Then, at around 03:30 on the morning of the third, a Flash order from Sixth Fleet arrived with a four-hour time on target (ToT) for carrying out strikes against six particular targets in Lebanon. The staff initially thought the order had been sent inadvertently, but as voice and message traffic emerged between the ships and Sixth Fleet, it became clear that “somebody” much higher had ordered military action without giving a damn about what it would take for the operational forces to actually carry it out.

The right ordnance was not loaded, the crews were not briefed, and the aircraft were not ready or correctly spotted on the flight deck. Additionally, only one of the six designated targets had really been prepared by the ships, and the other five were brand-new and were thought to have no military significance. While the ships rapidly woke up, it was confirmed that the ToT was an absolute that had to be met, which led to an all-hands effort to carry out their orders.

What followed was a disaster.

Remembering the ill-fated 1983 U.S. strike on Lebanon — Vought A-7E Corsair II aircraft of attack squadrons VA-15 Valions and VA-87 Golden Warriors of Carrier Air Wing Six (CVW-6) line the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Independence (CV-62) in December 1983. The carrier was operating off the coast of Lebanon in support of the multinational peacekeeping force in Beirut. In October 1983 Independence took part in the invasion of Grenada.

Kennedy launched 12 Intruders, of which seven were from VA-85 and five were from VA-75. Independence also put five Intruders up in the air, along with several KA-6Ds (from VA-176). Along with the Tomcats and Prowlers from both carriers, the ‘Indy’ A-7Es also participated. Due to time constraints, ammunition loads were sometimes limited for their intended targets, Syrian tanks, and AAA sites in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, near the Syrian border. Only one Kennedy Intruder managed to escape with a full bomb load. At middle altitude at dawn, aircraft lost contact with the ground and were quickly surrounded by missiles and AAA. The sky was replete with infrared-guided weapons that were immune to the Prowlers’ magic, while EA-6Bs seemed to render any radar-guided SAMs useless.

Buckeye 556 (BuNo 152915), the only Intruder that was fully loaded, had to work hard to keep up with the rest of the formation. Both B/N Lt. Bobby Goodman and pilot Lt. Mark Adam Lange were present on board. As aircraft attempted to dodge the SAMs rising from the ground, the sky was flooded with flares and infrared decoys. A Syrian 9K31 Strela-1 or Strela-2 infrared-guided SAM shortly struck “Buckeye 556,” most likely. Lange soon passed away from wounds sustained during the crew’s ejection from the aircraft. Goodman was handed over to Syrian forces and subsequently jailed for several weeks not far from Damascus. After a flurry of diplomatic activity, including Reverend Jesse Jackson’s attendance, he would be freed.

The Intruders and Corsair IIs delivered weapons through the hail of fire, with VA-176 particularly dropping 25 Mk 82s, 23 Mk 83s, and 30 Rockeyes on its designated targets.

While flying VA-15 A-7E “Active Boy 305” (BuNo 157468), CAG-6 Cdr. Ed. Andrews assumed control of the search and rescue operation for the downed Intruder. He was shortly struck by an infrared-guided SAM himself and was forced to eject. He was later picked up by a helpful fisherman and transferred back to the U.S. Navy. A VA-15 Corsair II called “Active Boy 314” (BuNo 157458) was also struck, but its pilot was able to board Independence and make a full recovery.

Here's how A-6 Intruder crews dodged SAMs and MiGs in the skies over Vietnam

As stated by Lt. Cdr. Hulsey, ‘even six more hours would’ve made all the difference in the world, but they wouldn’t give it to us. We found out later that the source (presumably out of Washington, D.C.) didn’t even get the time zone conversion right in the message, which cost us at least two more hours to prepare.’ As the saying goes, ‘Success has a thousand fathers while failure dies an orphan.’ In this case, it is still unclear who chose the target and ToT. Even though the bombing results were deemed “effective” in official reports, there was a rapid and long-lasting bitter taste of the strike on both ships and across carrier aviation. Professionally, the incident was regarded as nothing less than a failure. As a result, several modifications were made, including the establishment of “Strike U” at Fallon to create and disseminate more successful air wing tactics.

Photo by U.S. Navy

A-6 Intruder Units 1974-96 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

November 23, 2021 0 comment

History

Carmine Vito: the only U-2 pilot to fly above Moscow

by Till Daisd November 9, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“I learned later that the Soviets launched at least five fighters to intercept my flight. Two planes took off initially. The lead plane aborted takeoff ran off the runway and exploded. The wingman went through lead’s flames and then bailed out. Two more airplanes scrambled and were refueled in the air. Those airplanes got lost or collided. The pilots bailed out. A fifth plane scrambled but couldn’t find the tanker. He was lost and never found to this day,” Carmine Vito, the only U-2 pilot to fly over Moscow

The first flight of the original U-2A, which Kelly Johnson and the Lockheed Skunk Works built with total secrecy, took place in August 1955. The president and other U.S. decision-makers received crucial intelligence about Soviet military capacity during the first flights over the Soviet Union in the late 1950s. Its employment was kept a secret until Francis Gary Powers’s U-2 was shot down by a surface-to-air missile on May 1, 1960, when it was conducting a reconnaissance trip over Soviet territory.

The only U-2 pilot to fly directly over Moscow was Carmine Vito, one of the original six pilots trained to operate the high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft for the CIA. His journey, which the pilots referred to as a “hot flight,” was the third operational flight into a possibly hostile country, as explained by Eric Hehs in his article Carmine Vito: U-2 Pilot for Code One Magazine. On June 20, 1956, Carl Overstreet made the first U-2 flight of its kind. East Germany and Poland were included in the mission.

After that, on July 4, Hervy Stockman flew over Soviet territory, traveling as far north as Leningrad to photograph naval shipyards and then west to the Baltic States to photograph bases for jet bombers. Marty Knutson, Glen Dunaway, and Jake Kratt piloted the fourth, fifth, and sixth missions. All were successful.

The story of Carmine Vito, the only U-2 pilot to fly over Moscow — Early U-2 pilots had to resign their military commissions before joining the CIA as civilians, a process they referred to as “sheep dipping.”

“The Russians launched planes to intercept Overstreet on the first flight,” notes Vito. “But they couldn’t reach him.” Soviet radar also picked up Stockman’s flight. Many MiG fighters sprang into action to intercept him as well. The intercepts, like earlier flights, were unsuccessful. Soviet fighters were unable to get close to the necessary height to bring the soaring U-2 down.

When the orders to fly came, Vito’s selection for the Moscow mission was more a result of chance than of planning. Twelve hours before takeoff, headquarters would generally send an alarm message to the Wiesbaden U-2 detachment. Normally, the message arrived before 5:00 p.m. The ground staff and pilots prepared for the flight throughout those twelve hours. The aircraft, engine, and cameras underwent ground inspections by teams from Lockheed, Pratt & Whitney, and Kodak. To combat the effects of rapid decompression, pilots put on their specialized partial pressure suits and breathed pure oxygen (the bends). Before being granted the all-clear to take off, U-2 pilots had to spend at least two hours “on the hose” to expel nitrogen from their blood.

“Without a go signal from headquarters, everyone headed for the club after five that evening,” explains Vito. “On that particular weekend, the 4th of July, most everyone was celebrating. When the late go came down from headquarters, I was the only one who had had only one drink. So, even though our order of mission flights had been predetermined by drawing straws, I was selected for the mission.”

After recalling this specific U-2 mission for 46 years, Vito is unsure if he is speaking from true memories or memories of earlier descriptions. Whatever the case, he recalls the fireworks display that kept him up that night and the required steak and egg meal the next morning. “They always fed us steak and eggs before a flight,” he says. “I didn’t want steak and eggs at two in the morning, but they were on the checklist. So I had to eat.”

Vito went through Krakow, Poland, before continuing to Brest and Baranovici in Ukraine. On his trip to the Soviet capital, he continued along this east-northeasterly course while flying over Minsk.

The mission began in bad weather. “We had about 200 feet of visibility on the ground,” recalls Vito. “The sky was clear at 3,000 to 4,000 feet, but I had undercast halfway inbound.” The weather cleared as Vito followed a railroad line from Minsk to Moscow. At an altitude of more than 66,000 feet, he listened to Peter and the Wolf, a Russian musical composition with narration, transmitted from a Soviet radio station. Small mosaic fields from the collective farms passed below him. “Those fields reminded me that Russian farmers tilled the land by hand,” he says. “I couldn’t get mad at people who work that hard. I was never mad at the Soviet people themselves, just at their government.”

Vito’s mission carried him directly over Moscow and the vast array of recently constructed air defenses that encircled the city in three concentric circles at a distance of twenty, forty, and sixty miles. The metropolis was hidden by a hazy sky. “My bubble burst,” Vito recalls. “I thought, Gee I came all this way for nothing. But the filters on my camera cut through the haze. A year or so later, I learned that the resulting film picked up some remarkable detail.”

A CIA history of the U-2 claims that Vito’s flight captured photographs of the Fili airframe facility, where the Soviets were constructing their first jet bomber—known to the West as the Bison—as well as a bomber arsenal in Ramenskoye, a rocket engine plant in Khimki, and a missile plant in Kaliningrad. He turned north toward the Baltic coast from about east of Moscow before turning back south toward West Germany.

“I learned later that the Soviets launched at least five fighters to intercept my flight,” says Vito. “Two planes took off initially. The lead plane aborted takeoff ran off the runway, and exploded. The wingman went through the lead’s flames and then bailed out. Two more airplanes scrambled and were refueled in the air. Those airplanes got lost or collided. The pilots bailed out. A fifth plane scrambled but couldn’t find the tanker. He was lost and never found to this day.” Vito never received credit for five aerial victories. “After all, I never fired a shot,” he says.

On his way back to West Germany, the Canadian radar came on the air: “Lone Ranger, this is Tonto. Keep heading the way you are going. You have twenty-two minutes to touchdown.”

“I knew they were talking to me because they had the best radar around and had picked us up on previous flights,” recalls Vito. “But U-2 pilots had to observe complete silence on the radio. To this day, I wish I could have replied, ‘Ti Ee Kemosabe.’”

Vito logged over 450 hours on about 65 flights in the U-2 between 1955 and 1959. In the first U-2C at Edwards AFB, he made his final flight. In August 1960, he left the CIA’s U-2 headquarters.

Photo by Lockheed Martin

November 9, 2021 0 comment

History

Red Tail legacy over Alabama from past to future

by Till Daisd October 31, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Together, Peace, Lopez, and Lang took to the air. Once the fighter pilots adjusted to the P-51’s rather sluggish pace, the flying was smooth

On Thursday, September 7, 2018, keen-eyed spectators inspecting the skies may have spotted a special tribute to the history, present, and future of the Tuskegee Airmen legacy that was created in Alabama more than 77 years ago.

The members of the 100th Fighter Squadron Red Tails at Dannelly Field are aware of their past and the importance of the red paint on the tails of their jets, as stated by Staff Sgt. Jared Rand of the 187th Fighter Wing Public Affairs in the article Tuskegee Airmen Legacy Soars Over Alabama. It pays tribute to the original Red Tails, the heroic World War II Tuskegee Airmen of the 332nd Fighter Group (and 100th Fighter Squadron). These Airmen, who were among the first African-Americans to serve in the military, decorated the tails of their P-51 Mustang fighter planes in order to distinguish friendly from hostile aircraft amid the chaos of combat.

On September 8, the Red Tails Over Montgomery Air Show was scheduled, and when U.S. Air Force (USAF) Maj. Rich “Sheriff” Peace, a fighter pilot with the Red Tails, learned that a Red Tail P-51 Mustang and an F-22 Raptor from the 301st Fighter Squadron would be flying in for the show, and an idea started to take shape. The Tuskegee Airmen were also the ancestors of the 301st.

Past, present, and future of Red Tail legacy over Alabama

“We realized we had an opportunity to do something historic”, Peace said later. “That was to take three Tuskegee aircraft, with three black pilots, and do a flight over Tuskegee.”

A compelling image to motivate the following generation of Airmen would be on full display, showcasing the past, present, and future of the Red Tail legacy.

A different formation flight was authorized following coordination, phone calls, and assistance from leadership all the way up to the MAJCOM level. Over Moton Field in Tuskegee, where the Tuskegee Airmen trained, and Dannelly Field, where the 100th currently flies, the three aircraft would fly in formation. F-16 would be piloted by Peace. The P-51 would be flown by Commemorative Air Force pilot Brad Lang. And the F-22 would be flown by USAF Maj. Paul “Loco” Lopez, the team leader and pilot for the ACC F-22 Demonstration Team.

“We all stand on the shoulders of giants,” Lopez said before the flight. “If you look around here in Montgomery, you can see how the Air Force values preserving our legacy and honoring our heritage. For me, it’s very humbling to know that a lot of people went through great sacrifices so we can all be here.”

Lang, Lopez, and Peace all went to the air. Once the fighter pilots got used to the P-51’s rather slow speed, the flight was smooth.

“I had seen (the P-51) in air shows, but being right next to it, it’s just so beautiful and majestic,” Peace said after the flight. “Seeing it flying over Moton Field was pretty awesome.”

The jets made a variety of formations and photo opportunities before returning to Montgomery. Although the flight was over, the impact it made on the pilots and probably others who heard their narrative will be felt for a long time.

“The legacy flight was to honor the memory of the Tuskegee Airmen and to bring visibility and light to the sacrifices they made then, what we’re doing now, and how they paved the way forward to the future,” Peace remarked afterward. “To see what their work and sacrifice led to today was a pretty amazing thing. I was honored and proud to be part of it.”

Photo by Staff Sgt. Clayton Cupit / U.S. Air Force

October 31, 2021 0 comment

History

The death of the legendary A-10 Warthog’s father

by Till Daisd October 28, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“There was a major in the Air Force… He saw the first couple of ones. He said, ‘Geez, that thing is as ugly as a warthog.’ And it stuck,” Elliot Kazan manager for the development of the A-10 Thunderbolt II

The person popularly recognized as the Fairchild Republic A-10’s founder passed away. In the 1970s, Elliot Kazan oversaw a group of roughly 500 employees as they created the renowned Warthog. He was 90.

According to Newsday, sepsis-related complications caused Kazan’s death on August 9.

According to his family, Kazan was raised in Queens and attended Polytechnic University to study aeronautical engineering, graduating with a bachelor’s degree in 1949 and a master’s degree in 1950. After a brief stint at Boeing, Kazan accepted a position in Farmingdale with the Republic Aviation Company, which ultimately changed its name to Fairchild-Republic.

While employed there, Kazan was appointed project manager for the creation of the A-10 Thunderbolt II, also known as the “Warthog” due to its bulky and ungainly appearance.

“There was a major in the Air Force… He saw the first couple of ones,” Kazan told Newsday in 2003. “He said, ‘Geez, that thing is as ugly as a warthog.’ And it stuck.”

In October 1975, the first A-10A produced was delivered to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Arizona. In the 1970s and 1980s, more than 700 A-10 Thunderbolt II airplanes were produced. In September 2007, the upgraded A-10C achieved initial operational capability. The U.S. and its allies have found great value in the combination of its vast and diversified ordnance load, lengthy loiter time, precise weapons delivery, austere field capability, and survivability. The aircraft is equipped with a seven-barrel GAU-8/A 30mm Gatling gun, with a maximum rate of fire of 3,900 rounds per minute, which can be used to take out tanks among other targets.

“He heard one guy after another say to him, ‘That plane saved my life. It was full of holes and it still flew me back safely,” Kazan’s wife of 55 years, Dorothy, said. “It was the love of his life, that airplane.”

Kazan was even more devoted to his family, which included his two daughters, according to relatives.

“He would work 16 hours and he would come home and there was no running and hiding or anything like that… He would have the girls out sleigh riding,” said his son-in-law, Stephen Kazan, who took his family’s name. “He was a dad first and an engineer second… He was one of those guys who got it right.”

Photo by U.S. Air Force

October 28, 2021 0 comment

History

The SR-71 Blackbird crew that established the still-standing absolute speed record

by Till Daisd October 28, 2021

written by Till Daisd

While the SR-71 was operational, several pilots flew the Blackbird faster than the official record but not during sanctioned record attempts

The Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird Mach 3 strategic reconnaissance aircraft maintained its position as the world’s fastest and highest-flying operational aircraft for approximately 24 years. It could survey 100,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface per hour from an altitude of 80,000 feet.

It is therefore not surprising that the aircraft has consistently broken records for both speed and altitude due to its astounding flight qualities.

Three US Air Force (USAF) aircrews broke three unbreakable world aviation records in two days in July 1976 while flying the Mach 3+ SR-71 high-altitude surveillance aircraft. Those marks remain intact, as Jeff Rhodes explains in his Absolute Blackbirds article in Code One Magazine. Absolute Speed is still regarded as the record for the fastest airborne speed attained by humans.

Aviation records have been kept since officials from eight nations, including the United States, gathered in Paris in October 1905 to create the Fédération Aéronautique Internationale, or FAI. Later, the FAI evolved into the organization that controls official spacecraft as well as planes for use in aviation sports. The FAI is represented in the United States by the National Aeronautic Association or NAA.

This SR-71 Blackbird crew set the Absolute Speed Record that still stands today — The image above, taken from the high-speed cameras at Edwards AFB, California, shows Capt. Al Joersz (pilot) and Maj. George Morgan (RSO) setting the Absolute Speed record on Jul. 28, 1976.

The first records that were acknowledged by the FAI were established a year after it was founded. On September 14, 1906, near Bagatelle, France, Brazilian Alberto Santos-Dumont piloted his box-kite-like aircraft, known as the 14-bis, over a very constrained course with a radius of just 25.8 feet. Santos-Dumont increased the closed-course distance record that November to 733 feet and established the first officially acknowledged speed record of 25.6 mph.

To commemorate the US Bicentennial, USAF authorities intended to fly the SR-71 on a special, noteworthy mission seventy years later. First considered but ultimately rejected was a speed flight around the world. Then, according to Al Joersz, who was in charge of SR-71 standardization and evaluation for the 9th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing (SRW) at Beale AFB in northern California, where the now-retired SR-71s were based, in 1976 as an Air Force captain, “we looked at what could be accomplished on a typical training sortie.”

Unit officials looked through the record book and found three absolute records that their Blackbirds could break: speed over a closed circuit, altitude in horizontal flight, and speed over a straight course of 15 to 25 kilometers.

“Jim Sullivan, our squadron operations officer and the pilot who set the New York-to-London speed record in the SR-71 in 1974, came to me and told me I was going to set the absolute speed record,” noted Joersz. “We had several crews deployed, so the most experienced crews we had on hand were picked.” Because of the intense crew coordination required, SR-71s were always flown by dedicated two-man crews.

Beale’s wing mission planning organization coordinated the flights, working with both the FAA and NAA. “We flew the mission a couple of times in the simulator,” recalled Joersz. “That sim was all analog—our moving map consisted of a scrolling paper map—but it did prepare crews for flights.”

Although the scheduled Fourth of July flight date was postponed due to a lack of approvals, everything was prepared by month’s end. The Air Force Flight Test Center at Edwards AFB in southern California is where the speed and altitude measurements were made, though the flights started and concluded at Beale.

To break the Speed Over a Closed Course record, Maj. Pat Bledsoe, the wing chief of standardization/evaluation (the wing then, as now, also handled the U-2 reconnaissance aircraft), and Maj. John Fuller, his reconnaissance systems officer, took off first on July 27. A huge circle, similar to the one used during Santos-Dumont, marked the limits of the 1,000 km (621 miles) closed course. In order to essentially circle the area, Bledsoe flew Blackbird 958, Air Force serial number 61-7958, on six straight-line paths, entering and exiting the track at the same location. He comfortably beat Mikhail Komarov’s record of 1,852.61 mph set in 1967 in the E-266, a heavily modified Soviet MiG-25, by finishing the course at 2,092.29 mph.

Unfortunately, scattered clouds over Edwards later that day prevented Joersz and his RSO, Maj. George Morgan, from setting the Absolute Speed record, and Capt. Bob Helt and Capt. Larry Elliott from setting the Altitude in the Horizontal Flight record. “For the Absolute Speed record, the rules say that the aircraft’s altitude can’t vary by more than 150 feet from the assigned altitude over the course,” noted Joersz. “Once the clouds came in, altitude couldn’t be measured accurately from the ground. So we flew again the next day.”

Helt and Elliott attempted to break the sustained altitude record on July 28 but encountered an issue with the assigned SR-71, serial number 61-7963. The key to hitting this mark was to accelerate swiftly while maintaining height. On November 13, 1908, Wilbur Wright achieved the first altitude record in history, rising eighty-two feet. The previous record, which was set in May 1965 by USAF Col. R. L. Stevens in a YF-12, one of the SR-71’s predecessors, was 80,257 feet. The record set by Helt and Elliott was 85,069 feet, greatly breaking that record by more than three orders of magnitude.

Joersz and Morgan, piloting Blackbird 958, had to cross the electronic timing gate, fly the 25-kilometer circuit, cross a second timing gate, turn around, and repeat the course from the opposite end to negate the impact of winds in order to break the Absolute Speed record. The crew had an unstart—Blackbird-speak for an engine shutdown—just after crossing the timing gate on the second leg while flying at a speed of Mach 3.3.

“On an unstart, the aircraft yaws and the nose pitches up,” Joersz noted. “There is a five-step checklist to get the engine relit. I knew I had to keep the nose down to stay in the 150-foot box, so that’s what I concentrated on. By the time we’d gone through the checklist, we’d already passed the second gate. Still, we exited the gate at Mach 3.2.”

The two legs’ combined average speed of 2,193.16 mph broke Stevens’ previous record of 2,070.101 mph set with the YF-12. Several pilots flew the Blackbird faster than the official record when the SR-71 was in service, but not during authorized record attempts.

“The records weren’t a big deal at the time,” said Joersz. “I was just happy to fly the aircraft. I flew an instructional sortie the next day.” The SR-71 speed and altitude marks were quickly certified as world records. The three crews went to the Paris Air Show the following year to receive commemorative medallions from the FAI.

The FAI decreased the number of absolute records in 2006 to the best-ever performance with no restrictions, including distance, speed, altitude, and maximum payload. The records established by Bledsoe and Helt are now referred to as Class C and C-1, Landplane records, which means they are still valid but have been relocated from the first page of the official record book.

“One of our maintainers came up to me after the record flight and said, ‘This is the flight people will remember. It’ll last a long time,’ ” recalled Joersz, who rose to the rank of major general and later had a twelve-year career in advanced development with Lockheed Martin before retiring in 2010. “After our flights, the emphasis in aerospace as a whole shifted from speed and altitude to maneuverability and stealth.”

Photo by Lockheed Martin

October 28, 2021 0 comment

History

Viktor Belenko, the pilot who stole the top secret Soviet MiG-25 fighter jet

by Till Daisd October 24, 2021

written by Till Daisd

The Lockheed SR-71A strategic reconnaissance aircraft could only be intercepted by the MiG-25 until the MiG-31 entered service, making it of particular importance to the Soviet air defense

Lt. Viktor Belenko, a PVO unit pilot stationed at Chuguyevka Air Base north of Vladivostok (other sources indicate Sakharovka Air Base), disappeared after a sortie on September 6, 1976. If he had crashed into the Sea of Japan, his supervisors would not have been too displeased; nevertheless, the news that Belenko had landed at Hakodate International airport came as a huge shock.

It is unclear whether Belenko contacted American military intelligence on his own or was hired by them, as explained by Yefim Gordon in his book Mig-25 “Foxbat” Mig-31 “Foxhound”: Russia’s Defensive Front Line (there is even a theory that “V Belenko” was just a cover name for a trained agent tasked with stealing the newest Soviet military hardware, similar to Clint Eastwood in Firefox). Belenko was expected in Japan and had made preparations for the travel, according to the investigators, who concluded that the defection was not an impetuous move by a disgruntled officer. The moment he had a full fuel load, he made a beeline for Japan while carrying the secret technical manuals. (It was specifically prohibited to bring the manuals on a sortie.)

Nobody at the base had any suspicions about a possible defection. The mission profile called for low-level flying, during which the plane would be invisible to radar on the ground. Fighters weren’t sent up to attempt to find the crash site until Belenko failed to return at the scheduled time, at which point the C began calling him on the radio. Belenko was already entering Japanese airspace, with Air Self-Defence Force planes waiting to escort him, when border guards received word that an aircraft had crossed the state line and was heading for Japan.

If RSBN SHORAN beacons had not been accessible, the MiG-25P’s navigation equipment would not be able to direct the aircraft correctly during extended low-level flight (and of course, they were not). The radio compass might be useful, but once more the pilot would need to be aware of the marking beacon frequency at Hakodate, which nobody at Chuguyevka knew. Belenko overran his landing due to poor judgment because was so nervous, so much so that he damaged the landing gear and rendered the aircraft unflyable. Belenko spoke to the media and asked for political asylum in the United States. Japanese engineers assisted with some of the work while a sizable group of experts from the U.S. arrived to inspect the aircraft.

The defection of Viktor Belenko, the pilot who stole the super secret Soviet's MiG-25 fighter jet — Former Soviet Pilot Viktor Belenko’s Military Identity Document, CIA Museum

The Soviet Union put Japan under pressure by requesting the immediate delivery of the stolen “Foxbat.” The MiG-25 was returned in a disassembled and crated state since there were no legitimate legal justifications not to. In order to hide the “surgery” they and the American intelligence specialists had performed on the MiG, the Japanese deliberately did it.

Japanese officials resorted to delay tactics and bureaucratic snags when the Soviet delegation, commanded by General Dvornikov, landed in Japan. The Soviet officials insisted that the containers be opened for inspection to make sure nothing was missing when they were trucked to the port to be loaded onto a Soviet freighter. The Japanese gave them a short window of time on purpose in the hopes that the “Russians” wouldn’t have enough time to verify everything and repack the crates, but they were in for a surprise.

The Soviet experts were quick to find out just how much the West actually knew. It was discovered that the Americans had operated the engines, measured the aircraft’s infrared signature, and thoroughly analyzed the systems, avionics, including the radar, and structural elements before returning the MiG-25 to the USSR. The Americans had damaged some of the equipment since they didn’t know how to use it, so they had to make hurried repairs (foreign fuses and resistors were discovered in the radar set).

The incident sparked a flurry of MiG-25-related news in the international press. Aviation journalists mocked the design as “crude” and “engineering archaeology,” but they also acknowledged that the steel airframe was easy to build and repair without requiring highly skilled repair people and performed well at high temperatures. The radar’s components were judged outdated, but it impressed the West with its two wavebands, which almost removed jamming and were a feature that no U.S. radar had at the time. In fact, according to the U.S., “the MiG-25 is the sole aircraft terrifying the entire world.” According to U.S. Defense Secretary Schlesinger, the new Soviet interceptor is a powerful enough weapon to significantly alter Western weaponry and strategies.

It is impossible to adequately describe the shock that the Soviet leadership, the Ministry of Defense, and several other ministries felt. The most classified aircraft in the USSR has been stolen by the West! Worse, Belenko’s remarks that were reported in the international press revealed that Western intelligence services had early knowledge of the newest two-seater, the MiG-25MP (Izdelye83). The potential enemy now had the ability to quickly create countermeasures and effectively neutralize the MiG-25.

As a result, the Soviet government, the Ministry of Defense, and the Ministry of Aircraft Industry were compelled to take decisive action that was ultimately proven to be the right decision. The Soviet system’s tight and distinct lines of authority motivated the design bureaux and the defense industry to work hard, and barely two and a half years after the scandalous defection, a much-improved MiG-25PD reached production.

Until the MiG-31 entered service, the MiG-25 was the only aircraft capable of intercepting Lockheed SR-71A strategic reconnaissance aircraft that was prowling over the Barents Sea and, more specifically, the Baltic. This made the MiG-25 exceptionally crucial to the Soviet Union’s air defense (although in his autobiography Belenko claims that SR-71s flew off the coast of Russia, “taunting and toying with MiG-25s sent up to intercept them, scooting up to altitudes the Soviet planes could not reach, and circling leisurely above them, or dashing off at speeds the Russians could not match”).

Early in the 1980s, when Poland was experiencing upheaval, the West worried about a potential Soviet invasion. The Americans reportedly found the information provided by observation satellites on the Soviet forces stationed at the western frontiers to be insufficient, and the SR-71s started their missions over the Baltic Sea. The majority of the fighting against these snoopers was done by MiG-25PDs and ‘PDSs stationed nearby.

In addition to the long-term benefit already highlighted, Belenko’s elopement facilitated the transfer of new weapons. In 1979, the first MiG-25 export aircraft were delivered. Algeria, Bulgaria, India, Iraq, Libya, and Syria all purchased the export versions of the interceptor and reconnaissance/strike aircraft, which were slightly downgraded. It was an unusual strategy for breaking into international markets because the plane had to be stolen to start exports!

Photo by Dmitriy Pichugin and Leonid Faerberg (transport-photo.com) via Wikipedia and CIA

October 24, 2021 0 comment

History

The last USMC Bronco to be lost in action was this OV-10A

by Till Daisd October 20, 2021

written by Till Daisd

OV-10A An Iraqi SAM shot down Bronco BuNo 155424 on February 25, 1991. Major Joseph Small, the pilot, was captured, and Captain David Spellacy, the observer, was killed.

The intriguing picture in this post was taken on January 9, 1991, and it depicts a U.S. Marine Corps (USMC) North American OV-10A Bronco BuNo 155424 from Marine Observation Squadron 1 (VMO-1) taking off from the U.S. Navy aircraft carrier USS America (CV-66).

VMO-1 rushed to the Persian Gulf in December 1990 and boarded the USS America and USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71) with their OV-10 aircraft. The Broncos took off from the carriers off the coast of Spain and made multiple fuel stops before reaching the combat area. During Operation Desert Storm, the squadron, based in Jubail, Saudi Arabia, performed more than 1,000 combat missions in support of the coalition forces that liberated Kuwait from Iraq.

155424 was shot down on Feb. 25, 1991, by an Iraqi surface-to-air missile (SAM). The pilot (Major Joseph Small) was captured and the observer (Captain David Spellacy) was killed. Major Small was released on Mar. 6. This was the last USMC combat loss of an OV-10.

In April 1991, VMO-1 returned to Marine Corps Air Station (MCAS) New River and took part in a number of drills up till deactivation. F/A-18D strike jets and AH-1W helicopter gunships have taken over its duties.

Photo by U.S. Navy

October 20, 2021 0 comment

History

Israeli MiG-29 Fulcrums’ saga

by Till Daisd October 20, 2021

written by Till Daisd

In contrast to other frontline fighters from the past, the Israelis appeared unable to obtain a MiG-29 using clandestine methods. But with the end of the Cold War, it was now possible to test the jet by renting one, and they did it

Once the MiG-29 Fulcrum started to appear on Syrian land, the Israeli Air Force (IAF) was eager to obtain a first-hand look at its systems and capabilities.

Israel reportedly made a secret arrangement with a Polish general to acquire an almost finished, crated MiG-29. The aircraft was in Gdansk, ready to be transported to Syria, but in late 1985 it was put on a plane and brought to Israel. Soon after learning of this, the Soviets demanded its return. Around February 1986, the Israelis obliged because they were trying to improve relations with the Soviet Union at the time. Though it’s unlikely that much was accomplished during the episode, the airplane pieces had been examined and photographed.

In 1991, Israel borrowed a MiG-29 radar from Germany as part of a deal involving a sizable number of Soviet weaponry sold or lent to the Israelis, as detailed by Bill Norton in his book Air War On The Edge: A History of the Israel Air Force and its aircraft from 1947. These included modern T-72 main battle tanks (MBTs) that were sent to Israel but were mislabeled as “agricultural equipment” on official falsified shipment documents. The radar was from a former East German MiG-29 that had recently been made available to the West as a result of Germany’s reunification. The device was given back to its owner after a thorough technical analysis.

Although helpful, the radar analysis by itself did not give the IAF all the data they were looking for; only the full-up jet would do.

I want a MiG-29!: the saga of Israel's Fulcrums

The Israelis appeared unable to set an example through clandestine measures, unlike other frontline combatants in the past. But with the end of the Cold War, it was now possible to test the jet by renting one. They did this. During the first half of the 1990s, Israeli pilots operated the jet in one or more East European nations and possibly in Germany. However, a thorough analysis would necessitate a test match against the front-line jets of the IAF.

In 1996 or 1997, a loan of three MiG-29s from an unspecified East European country (probably Poland) was arranged. The aircraft, reportedly including number 35105, appeared to have been early A models. Flown from several Negev air bases – probably including Ramon – the MiG-29s were wrung out during a two-week trial session in April 1997. Each jet reportedly made 20 flights. In addition to conducting mock battles with the F-15 and F-16, technical assessments of the helmet-mounted sight and infrared search-and-track systems were also conducted. These characteristics, as well as the entire aircraft, are said to have impressed the Israelis.

“MiG’s abilities equal and sometimes even exceed those of the F-15 and F-16 jets”, said Major N, one of the IAF pilots who flew the MiG-29. “The aircraft is highly maneuverable, and its engines provide a higher weight-to-thrust ratio. Our pilots must be careful with this aircraft in air combat. Flown by a well-trained professional, it is a worthy opponent.”

Major N was echoed by Lieut. Gen. M: “Flying the MIG was one-of-a-kind type of experience for a test pilot. Now I know that the result of air combat between the MIG and an Israeli fighter jet depends on how the combat develops. In a tight battle, it is a real threat. It’s an advanced aircraft, and in close maneuvering engagements, it is absolutely terrific. It makes sharp turns, it’s quick, and to my opinion, as a platform, it does not fall short of our advanced fighter jets.”

The evaluation was expensive, but it yielded important information on dangerous aircraft that had previously only been known from instances that had been seized.

All markings on the MiGs that identified who actually owned them were painted over. Curiously, the jets were not given Israeli national markings, perhaps as a requirement of the purchase. The markings of the F-16 253 Squadron (where the MiG-29s may have been hosted) and the Flight Test Center [# 104 and 110, respectively] were affixed to the tails of the aircraft.

Photo by Israel MoD

October 20, 2021 0 comment

History

A Soviet MiG-19 shot down an American Elint aircraft over the Barents Sea

by Till Daisd October 18, 2021

written by Till Daisd

Before swinging back to launch a cannon strike, the MiG-19 broke away from the RB-47H during the maneuver. The aircraft was shot down after two firing attempts

The 55th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing (SRW), headquartered at Forbes AFB, Kansas, was re-equipped with the specially modified RB-47H type of the B-47 Stratojet during the second half of 1955, replacing their outdated Boeing RB-50Gs. Three Special Operators were transported by the RB-47H in a pressurized bomb-bay capsule. The APD-4 automatic receiver/analyzer served as the primary Elint system for the aircraft, with manual APR-17 receivers, an ALA-6 direction finding (D/F) system, and ALA-74 pulse analyzers serving as backups. Regular monthly detachments to the UK were undertaken by the RB-47Hs of the 55th SRW, from whence they launched Elint sorties over Europe.

RB-47H shot down: when a Soviet MiG-19 downed a USAF Elint plane over the Barents Sea — The RB-47H carried a crew of six, with the pilot, co-pilot, and navigator in a pressurized section in the nose. The three electronic warfare officers (EWOs), also known as “Ravens” or “Crows,” were stationed in what would be the bomb bay in a normal B-47. On typical missions, the EWOs spent about 12-14 hours working in this confined, windowless compartment, completely surrounded by electronic equipment.

An RB-47H (53-4281) of the 55th SRW, based at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, launched an Elint sortie into the Barents Sea on July 1st, 1960. The aircraft flew in international airspace about 50 miles (80 km) off the Russian coast while traveling up the Norwegian coast, around the North Cape, and then southeast along the Kola Peninsula’s coastline. A MiG-19 Farmer intercepted the RB-47H as it got close to the tip of the peninsula and flew in tight formation with it. The RB-47H performed a predetermined maneuver to the northeast, moving away from the coastline, about 50 miles (80 km) off Cape Svyatoy Nos (Holy Nose Point), close to the entrance to the White Sea.

The RB-47H broke away from the MiG-19 during the maneuver, and it then swung back to launch a cannon strike. The aircraft was downed after two fire passes. Sadly, only Col. Bruce Olmstead, the co-pilot of the RB-47H, and John McKone, the navigator, remained alive; the three Special Operators perished. Later, the Soviet Union used the assertion that the aircraft had violated Soviet territorial waters by approaching a location 11.83 miles (19 km) north of Svyatoy Nos to defend against the strike.

Over the Arctic Ocean, Olmstead and McKone were forced to eject from their damaged aircraft. They were detained in the Soviet Union for seven months. The KGB sent Olmstead and McKone to Moscow’s feared Lubyanka prison and accused them of spying after they survived the downing of their RB-47H. They were interrogated nonstop while being confined in isolation in a freezing cell with limited opportunities for food or rest.

They knew plenty of secrets. But neither Olmstead nor McKone gave up a thing to the KGB during seven months of solitary confinement.

“They continued to fulfill the Airman’s Creed, to never surrender,” explained retired Brig. Gen. Reg Urschler of Bellevue, a squadron mate of Olmstead’s later commanded the 55th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing (SRW). “None of us can imagine what they went through.”

After his release, Olmstead never flew again for the 55th, but he became a test pilot and, later, an air attaché in Denmark, and he retired as a colonel in 1983. Post-military, he became a home remodeling contractor. He visited Russia and hosted Russian military veterans in his home.

However, he carried the effects of those months in jail with him for the rest of his life.

“You can’t sit in a cell for 211 days without it affecting you,” he told the Washington Post in 1978. “You don’t forgive and forget. You forgive, and you live with it.”

In 2004, after Cold War veterans became eligible for combat medals, Olmstead and McKone (who passed away in 2013) finally earned their Silver Star medals. After two years, Olmstead gave his to the 55th Wing.

The loss of the RB-47H increased scrutiny of US units operating out of the UK, according to Dave Forster and Chris Gibson in their book Listening In, RAF Electronic Intelligence Gathering Since 1945. It was discovered that the UK was typically given the Navigator’s log and intelligence findings from each flight sometime thereafter but was not typically given the route of US Elint missions in advance. The Air Ministry was only generally informed about the expected aircraft track of any sortie as a result.

Later, the flight plan for the RB-47H sortie on July 1 as well as ground intercepts of Soviet air defense activities, including tracking information, were forwarded to the Air Ministry. This suggested that the intended distance from the Soviet coast was to be 60nm (111km), however, intercept evidence suggested that the RB-47H had actually closed to 28 nautical miles (52km) before continuing on its intended course and standing off by about 66nm (122km). Although the tracking information was inconsistent, it seemed to indicate that the aircraft may have closed the coast again before being shot down.

The RB-47 remained in service until 1967, when the RC-135 took its place.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

October 18, 2021 0 comment

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