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Pilot-instructor from a former B-52 recalls training incidents

by Till Daisd October 20, 2021

“We could have been throwing up dust clouds behind us, we were so low. One wrong move and we’d have been splattered over miles of cactus,” Jay Lacklen, former B-52 Instructor Pilot

Jay Lacklen is a former B-52 pilot with 12,500 flying hours and the author of some books including, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command.

Training Incidents

I had six student crews during my two years at Castle. All successfully completed the course, and there were no more hair-raising emergencies, but there were a few incidents. Two were caused by the damn fog that covers the San Joaquin Valley in the winter. I spent more than one day sitting against the wall at Base Ops with a dozen other bomber and tanker crews, waiting for the fog to lift.

The first incident came in the winter of 1978, in the middle of the course for the student crew. We had exited a low-level route in Utah shortly after midnight, and I contacted Castle on a phone patch with the Hill AFB command post to check the weather. They told me it was zero-zero (ceiling and visibility), and I couldn’t get back that night. I requested a divert base, and they came up with Minot, ND. Oh, great, I thought, Minot in the middle of the winter; just my luck.

A Minot landing would be no picnic I discovered when I called to request their weather. While Castle was fogged in, Minot had a blizzard. So we got to anticipate a landing at 0400 in the morning, after having been up for perhaps twenty hours and in the air for ten, in a blinding snowstorm. I got in the copilot’s seat and let the student pilot fly the approach. The ILS precision approach started well but soon got dicey. The pilot started getting behind due to the crosswind, and I had to take it from him halfway down the approach. This is one of those freak occurrences you need the experience to handle. I had it in this aircraft; he didn’t.

The landing required ten degrees of crosswind gear, a peculiarity of the Buff necessary because it cannot be flown wing low to fight the crosswind. Recall my lesson from Elvis in the T-41 on crosswind; now imagine the horrendously long wing of the B-52. The wing-low method is not an option. The Boeing engineers, therefore, made the landing gear rotatable. The two main landing gear trucks are normally aligned with the centerline. For a crosswind landing, the trucks rotate left or right to compensate for the wind. This means as you approach touchdown, you might be looking down the runway centerline out the side window. Your mind must convince your brain that you must touch down, looking sideways, or all hell will break loose, the plane will dive toward the downwind wing, and you’ll be headed off the runway toward the upwind wing.

The blowing snow proved very thick and seemed more so due to our speed. It would have been thick just standing on the ground, but flying through it at 120 knots made it a super-blizzard. I broke out near minimums and landed with the ten degrees of crosswind. I didn’t curse the sky gods for this one, as I had that first check ride into Nha Trang. I could handle this after years of experience, whereas the Nha Trang approach hit me before I half knew what I was doing in airplanes.

The second incident was more political than dangerous. Again, returning to Castle in the middle of the night, the fog had beat us to the runway. I saw this peculiar situation several times in thirty years of flying. The ground fog sits on the runway, about fifty feet thick. If you fly over the runway at a thousand feet, you can see the runway clearly looking down, but if you approach from a low angle, such as from a visual approach, the runway disappears as you start to flare for landing. Suddenly, you can’t see anything, as if landing on a cloud. This condition would cause a crash landing for a C-5 in Muscogee, OK, years later on an ORI and could have done the same to me. But rather than chance blindly feeling the runway, I again diverted to Mather, and this time I would not be on fire. As we climbed out from the missed approach, I called the Castle command post and told them I got down to fifty feet and went around due to fog.

The next day, after traveling back from Mather, I reported to the squadron commander’s office after an official call to get my ass into the squadron to explain my mission from the day before. I had no idea what the problem was The divert was warranted, and nothing untoward had happened. However, it seems a tanker toad pilot, a Lt. Col., had been on command post-frequency and railed to the ops commander that this bomber IP—me—had busted the two-hundred-foot minimums down to fifty feet before going around. This presumes I was in the clouds down to fifty feet, which was not the case. I had been totally visual down to fifty feet and then lost visibility in the fog. What a jerk that tanker guy had been! Anyway, that explanation got me off the hook, and I never did find out who the prick was.

Former B-52 Instructor Pilot remembers Training Incidents

The final crew incident happened on a bomb run at the La Junta bomb site when the student pilot got down to fifty feet above the ground on the radar altimeter at three hundred knots as we approached the target. We could have been throwing up dust clouds behind us, but we were so low. One wrong move, and we’d have been splattered over miles of cactus. Trapped in the jump seat with no access to throttles or yokes, I could do nothing but tersely order the pilot to start climbing or be in fear for his life, as I was of mine.

Photo by Senior Airman J.T. Armstrong / U.S. Air Force

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

History

A beautiful poem that captures the spirit of the powerful F-4

by Till Daisd October 13, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“I am the spirit of the Phantom. My spirit will live long in the minds and hearts of those in whom I have captured something. They are the ones who will know that I am not just a collection of wings and wheels; intakes and flaps,” spirit of the F-4 Phantom

Spirit of the Phantom poem, written by Stay Hopton, Jr. appeared in Volume 4, No. 3 issue of Smoke Trails, Quarterly Journal of the F-4 Phantom II Society.

I am the spirit of the Phantom. My manifestation in metal has been around for over thirty years now. But my numbers in the physical world are dwindling and before too long I will no longer thunder into the skies. A few of me will stand silently at museums in a brave attempt to keep in mind what I was like. But that is just the physical side of me. My spirit, on the other hand, is something else again…

My spirit will live long in the minds and hearts of those in whom I have captured something. They are the ones who will know that I am not just a collection of wings and wheels; intakes and flaps. They are the pilots who flew me and I captured something in them. They are the people who served me on the ground and I captured something in them. They are the warriors who saw me fly with and over them in war and I captured something in them. And they are the people who saw me at airshows and I captured something in them.

These are the people who will sustain my life. These are the people who, when they see me in pictures or stand before me at a museum, will not see what everyone else sees. They will see me as an extension of themselves as they flew to a place in the sky where their spirit and mine met and became one. They will see me as the fire of my afterburners fading into the dusk or as a brilliant landing light reaching out for the runway and home. They will see me dressed in red, white, and blue or navy blue and gold flying in tight formation through demanding maneuvers over a crowd of craning necks, straining eyes, and held breaths. And fired imaginations.

I carried many things in my life. I often left death in my wake but my mission and my destination were always freedom. To think that my life served only as a vehicle for the tools of war would be a mistake. For before the guns and bombs, before the Sidewinders and Sparrows, before the drop tanks and ejection seats there was the dream of flight. Those who designed me knew that I would have to fight but before that, they knew that I would have to fly. The thunder of my jet engines was the sound of freedom in more ways than one.

Those of you in whom I’ve captured something know that these words are hopelessly inadequate. They can only serve as a place around which the mist of my spirit swirls and drifts to meet with your spirit.

Photo by Senior Airman Jesse Shipps / U.S. Air Force

October 13, 2021 0 comment

History

Phinal F-4 Phantom launch from a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier

by Till Daisd October 13, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“It grows on you. It smells like an airplane, it makes a lot of noise, vibrates, goes fast, it’s real loud. You put it on like a glove. I’ll never forget the airplane and it will always have a soft spot in my heart,” CDR John Patton, former F-4 Phantom with VF-161

The historic video in this post, which was shot on March 25, 1986, onboard USS Midway (CV 41), depicts a significant moment in the history of naval aviation: the final F-4 Phantom fighter to be launched from a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier was thrown across the “Big 41” on that day.

At 9:12 a.m., the Phantom 210 of Fighter Squadron 151 was flown off the deck of the carrier by Lt. Alan Colegrove, the pilot, and Lt. Greg Blankenship, the RIO, bringing an end to a period that lasted more than three decades. Midway was conducting flight operations in the East China Sea, some 100 miles south of the Republic of Korea when the historic fly-off took place.

The last Phantoms in the regular Navy’s inventory, the F-4Ss of VF-151 and VF-161, served on 13 active aircraft carriers. Following upgrades made to the ship during its 1987 yard period, Carrier Air Wing 5 was set to receive the F/A-18 Hornet, the most modern and sophisticated aircraft in the Navy at the time. In the article End of an Era, written by JO2 Ron Vanasdlen and published in the April 1986 issue of All Hands, Midway’s commanding officer, Capt. Riley D. Mixson, said, “With this fly-off, we have witnessed the end of an era, that of an aged but still most effective fighting machine, the F-4S Phantom.

The Phantom had been the tried and true airplane for Navy aviators for almost 30 years.

The U.S. Navy Blue Angels and U.S. Air Force Thunderbirds demonstration teams flew the F-4 for the first time at the same time.

“The capabilities of that jet have paid off in many ways for the Navy, and I do hate to see it go,” Beard said.

CDR VF-161’s CO at the time, John Patton, is a former Blue Angel and has 16 years of experience flying F-4s. He has flown the Phantom for more than 3,200 hours. There simply couldn’t be a finer airplane, in his opinion.

“The F-4 has been a strike fighter since 1961 when it became operational. We carried all the ordnance everybody else had, plus we did the fighter missions.”

The squadrons have a remarkable past with the jet. The final ace squadron of the Vietnam War was VF-151. The squadron took down the final MiG in that conflict while flying off the Midway in F-4Js.

In order to fly back to the US, the aircraft left VF-151 and VF-161.

A few of the aircraft were sent to the desert for preservation, two were designated for the VX-4 PMS at Pt. Mugu, California, a number were sent directly to the Marine Corps, and a few more were sent to NAS North Island for some minor repairs and refitting before being sent to the USMC. The planes were still in use by the Marines into the 1990s.

CDR Bud “Thunder” Taylor, then VF-151’s CO, has 4579 flying hours, with 1,450 hours in the F-4. He described piloting the F-4. “It grows on you. It smells like an airplane, it makes a lot of noise, vibrates, goes fast, it’s really loud. You put it on like a glove. I’ll never forget the airplane, and it will always have a soft spot in my heart.”

It’s not hard to see why Taylor likes the jet. The veteran pilot of the Vietnam War completed 150 missions in the Phantom and was happy with its dual engines, two seats, speed, survivability of the jet, and the typical comfortable feeling of a jet doing its job.

“Still, I would not hesitate to take the F-4 into war tomorrow,” he concluded.

Photo by U.S. Navy

October 13, 2021 0 comment

History

Ex B-52 pilot remembers the end of Operation Arc Light

by Till Daisd October 11, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“The three B-52s sat behind the runway hold line awaiting permission for the final B-52 takeoff from U-Tapao. Then the tower cleared us for takeoff. On interplane frequency, I said, ‘OK, guys, let’s take our Buffs and go home,’” Jay Lacklen, former B-52 pilot

Flight the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command are two books written by former B-52 pilot Jay Lacklen, who has 12,500 flying hours. He is currently working on the trilogy’s last volume.

Putting Out The Arc Light

At the end of May, the B-52 Arc Light mission ended as the final three-ship cell, with our crew in the lead, departed U-Tapao. For many years, SAC crew members had joked about “putting out the Arc Light for good,” and here we were about to do just that. I had only flown two actual Arc Light bombing missions in 1973, and the rest of the crew had flown none, but we got to put out the “Light” for the thousands of crewmen who had flown the tens of thousands of hours over the previous ten years. They had done the heavy lifting; we had done little for the time we were at U-Tapao, but we got to take it home for good.

We would fly in cell formation until we reached the coast of California, then “two” and “three” would leave the formation to land at March AFB, CA, and we would continue on as a single ship to Carswell AFB, TX, a sixteen-hour mission.

We had an indignity to suffer before takeoff, however. The staff told us to report an hour early so we could string up a room full of rattan furniture in the bomb bay to deliver to the deputy commander for operations at Carswell. This did not sit well. We faced a tortuously long mission without any extra duties, and this was an absolutely unnecessary task. No doubt one of the commanders at U-Tapao garnered a significant Kudo for shipping the colonel’s furniture for free, but we were the ones providing the service. We hoped to be required to cycle the bomb bay doors en route over the Pacific, one final rattan bomb run.

(On a similar mission during Gulf War I in 1990, I had to personally deliver two live lobsters sent by General Colin Powell from Massachusetts to General Norman Schwarzkopf in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Getting them there alive was my assigned mission. I await my grandkids asking what I did during the war. Why I babysat two lobsters!)

When the time came, the three B-52s sat behind the runway hold line awaiting permission for the final B-52 takeoff from U-Tapao. Then the tower cleared us for takeoff. On interplane frequency, I said, “OK, guys, let’s take our Buffs and go home,” and with that, we took off. As we climbed out of the Gulf of Siam, U-Tapao fell silent for the first time in a decade and would largely remain that way.

On a cruise over the Philippine Sea at 42,000 feet, two interesting things happened. First, a jet contrail passed over us. This was unusual because we were already at our max altitude of over eight miles high, and the other contrail was so far above us I couldn’t see the aircraft. I decided it must be a U-2 or SR-71 spy plane because I didn’t expect to encounter any aircraft higher than we were, much less so far above us I would be unable to see it.

Next, a U.S. Navy ship broadcast on a guard channel asking if any American military aircraft were in the area. We answered that we were, and he asked if we could go “cipher” mode, or the scrambled, secret mode on one of our radios. The ship said they had an unknown target apparently shadowing them and asked if we could drop down and take a look. I said I’d have to get permission to do so because I couldn’t make my destination if I used the extra gas to chase a shadow. Shortly thereafter, the ship said they had resolved the issue and we wouldn’t be needed. I thought, briefly, we might find an excuse to cycle the bomb bay doors to rain rattan on the mysterious shadow, but it was not to be. The Carswell colonel would get his damn furniture. As the final indignity, neither colonel met us at either end to thank us for our efforts.

Impressive photos show B-52 bombers taking part in Operation Linebacker II, the Christmas bombings over North Vietnam which took place 45 years ago — *Photo by U.S. Air Force*

October 11, 2021 0 comment

Cold War

Retired members of the SR-71 Blackbird crew share their most interesting memories

by Till Daisd October 11, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“You haven’t been lost till you’ve been lost at Mach 3 because for every minute that you don’t know where you are, you’re 35 miles further away from where you think you’re supposed to be!,” Frank Stampf, former SR-71 Blackbird RSO

The following stories appear in John Altson’s book The Black Line.

Four Concurrent Emergencies on Landing

Blackbird pilot Lieutenant Colonel Bredette (BC) Thomas welcomed an assignment that would not require refueling because SR-71 air refueling was challenging and dangerous. A 45-minute flight over North Korea followed by a short trip back to Okinawa should have been simple. He had been an SR-71 pilot for nearly a year when he began his first tour in Okinawa.

In the seas close to the Okinawa base, Russian and Chinese trawlers kept watch over all US flights. It was determined that the flight would take place under radio silence and with a higher-than-normal load of 65,000 pounds of fuel due to the nature of this specific mission.

Former SR-71 Blackbird crew members share their most interesting stories

After experiencing a series of uncontrollable “unstarts” due to an engine inlet issue, BC was forced to abort the mission. He returned to Okinawa after only 20 minutes, carrying 15,000 pounds of fuel. BC’s issues were only getting started. The crew in charge of maintaining the hangar did not have time to wipe up the fuel slick on the floor since he returned to Okinawa considerably sooner than anticipated.

An SR-71 always lands with an eleven-degree nose-high attitude, lowers its nose for a soft landing, and then opens its drag parachute. Nevertheless, on this specific landing, the plane’s nose dropped, it began to veer left and right, and the right generator was destroyed. The fact that BC arrived much earlier than expected made things even harder, as the personnel ran out of time to remove the “arresting cable” off the runway. BC attempted to slow down but was unsuccessful; he blew out two of the right tires and crossed over the arresting cable.

It was customary to enter the hangar while the engines were still running and then turn them off. He entered the hangar at three miles per hour and was unable to stop the aircraft due to the oil slick. He tried the brakes, but was unsuccessful. BC was given two seconds to control the aircraft and make the decision regarding whether or not to turn off the engines. The aircraft came to a safe stop after he made a sharp right turn.

Colonel Frank Stampf’s most interesting story

The most intriguing story told by Colonel Frank Stampf, SR-71 RSO (Reconnaissance Systems Officer), involved a flight from Okinawa. The first-night operational mission that Frank and his pilot Gil Bertelson were scheduled to fly over the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) was a “bow-tie” (double loop) mission over the Korean peninsula that was planned to make several passes over the DMZ. They had just finished their obligatory ten to twelve months of crew training.

They were traveling at Mach 3 on the east side of the peninsula during a pitch-black, moonless night. Gil pointed to what looked like thousands of lights below and steered the aircraft into a 33-degree bank to the right. Given that the Korean peninsula is typically completely dark, this was extremely unusual. Although the lights were completely mysterious and disconcerting to a rookie crew flying dangerously close to some hostile zone, the navigation systems seemed to be functioning properly.

After successfully completing the mission, landing the aircraft, and receiving a debriefing from the intelligence officers, they learned that what they had actually seen was a large number of tiny Korean fishing vessels—thousands of sampans with their lanterns lit, giving the impression of a sprawling city—which was NOT what they were supposed to have seen at that particular time.

You haven’t been lost until you’ve been lost at Mach 3, as Frank was known to his SR-71 squadron mates for saying. He also developed the following corollary to the quotation: “…because for every minute that you don’t know where you are, you’re 35 miles further away from where you think you’re supposed to be!”

The Black Line is available to order here.

Photo by Lockheed Martin and U.S. Air Force

October 11, 2021 0 comment

History

The CF-104 Starfighter flown by Bud White that set the Canadian Aircraft Altitude Record

by Till Daisd October 4, 2021

written by Till Daisd

‘On December 14, 1967, when I managed to reach 100,110 feet and authenticate it, we wisely decided to call it a day. Interestingly, that record still stands today as a Canadian national altitude record,’ Bud White, RCAF CF-104 pilot who set the Canadian Aircraft Altitude Record

The F-104 Starfighter, a supersonic air superiority fighter, was a technological marvel when it first flew in the 1950s.

It was armed with a six-barrel M-61 20mm Vulcan cannon and performed the roles of a tactical fighter and a day-and-night interceptor when coupled with heat-seeking Sidewinder missiles.

The first XF-104 made its first flight in 1954, after which the F-104’s development started in 1952.

About 300 one- and two-seat Starfighters were bought by the U.S. Air Force (USAF). Additionally, 1,700 F-104s were produced in the US and abroad as part of the military aid program for several countries, including West Germany, Canada, Italy, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, Denmark, Greece, Turkey, Spain, Taiwan, and Japan.

Many records were set by the F-104, including the world altitude record of 103,395 feet (set by an F-104C on December 14, 1959) and the world speed record of 1,404.19 mph (set by an F-104A on May 18, 1958). The Starfighter was also the first aircraft to hold the official world records for speed, altitude, and time-to-climb at the same time.

All notable aviation records, especially the World Absolute Speed and Altitude Records of the International Aviation Federation (Federation Aeronautique Internationale, FAI), were fiercely challenged by the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War. According to Patrick Martin’s explanation in his book Canadian Starfighter, The CF-104 and CF-104D in Canadian Service from 1961-1986. In 1959, the Russians, the U.S. Navy, and finally USAF Captain Joe Jordan held the world’s absolute altitude record after reaching 103,395.5 feet in a modified F-104C. Col. Georgi Mosolov set a new Russian record in 1961 by reaching 113,892 feet in an E-66A MiG-21 that had been rocket-boosted.

Remembering the Canadian Aircraft Altitude Record set by Bud White's CF-104 Starfighter

In order to fit Reaction Control System “beepers” for roll, pitch, and yaw “attitude” control for the low dynamic pressures (‘q’) of inner space, the USAF then modified three F-104As to a Zoom Aerospace Trainer NF-104A, configuration with 5,250 lbs thrust, a canted throttleable liquid fuel rocket at the base of the vertical stabilizer, two-foot wing extension panels, and nose exhaust ports.

Robert Smith, the USAF’s top test pilot, had completed 41 Cat 1 test flights and another dozen operational and zoom flights by the time Col. Chuck Yeager took control of the program and helped him reclaim the World Record after reaching an unofficial altitude of 120,600 feet. Yeager’s NF-104 was destroyed on December 10, 1963, when he lost control during a Zoom flight, went into a flat spin, and ejected. Although about 50 more fruitful flights in NF-104As were performed, the program was “shackled,” and the USAF was prohibited from making any other attempts to reclaim the world altitude record.

Wing Commander R.A. (Bud) White, who on December 14, 1967, used a CF-104 aircraft to break the Canadian Aircraft Altitude Record, recalled:

‘On December 14, 1966, at our RCAF’s Aerospace Engineering Test Establishment in Ottawa, my USAF Exchange Test Pilot Jim Reed came to me with an exciting idea: beat the Russians, capture the Absolute World’s Altitude Record, and do it in Canada’s Centennial Year. Jim proposed we use our CF-104 12700 lighten and modify it; take advantage of the Jet stream; and improve the zoom profile. As our studies progressed into 1967, Air Material Command and Orenda readied three upgraded J79 engines for us; Lockheed helped with extended inlet nose cones; the National Research Council (NRC) and National Aeronautical Establishment (NAE) began the development of an extremely sensitive vane to measure the angle of attack (alpha); a detailed jet stream survey was undertaken; and major changes were made in the electronics bay and pressurization system of the 12700. We also had to design/develop lightweight alpha/beta vanes (with the NRC Flight Research Section) to go on our existing plastic nose cone & pitot boom. A major threat was the ‘flat spin mode’, but the Chief of the Defense Staff, General Allard, and the Minister of Defense provided strong support, and the project moved into high gear by midsummer as a highly classified military project.

Physiological training and two Gemini full-pressure suits were obtained through the Institute of Aviation Medicine and the USAF Surgeon General when Ron Hayman and I flew down to Tyndall Air Force Base. Later, we obtained valuable assistance flying the ‘zoom’ simulator at Edwards Air Force Base, and I was able to fly some F-104 ‘Zoom’ flights on their phototheodolite instrumented range.

We finally got airborne in October, quickly worked up the speed to Mach 2.3 while confirming engine performance, and worked out a method to find the core of jet streams. We created absolute silence when we briefed Transport Canada and explained how we planned to fly our ‘zooms’ through the Toronto/Ottawa/Montreal triangle with a ‘block’ airspace through their most densely traveled airspace in Canada. But remarkably, within days, dozens of air traffic controllers were vectoring hundreds of commercial flights around our Zoom flights without any explanation to the commercial carriers.

Authentication was a major problem with the FAI 1% accuracy requirement, and with most of our flights above the cloud until the NRC Defense Research Telecommunications Establishment nearby, Shirley’s Bay came up with a concept to use their 30-foot microwave tracking dish. Eventually, we installed 4GHz ‘beacons’ and a switching arrangement in 12700, tracked them in azimuth and elevation with the 30-ft. dish, tied their measurements to an atomic clock, and obtained distance from a 1GHz beacon and a modified IFF/SIF transponder in the aircraft. Unable to use phototheodolites, this turned out to be the World’s ‘first’ non-visual authentication before the FAI!

In all, we flew 42 flights in 12700, 25 of them zooms, and twelve of those safely above 95,000 ft. But on these later flights, our hoped-for benefit from the strong jet winds dropped off, and I was running out of control authority going over the top. There, stick nose-down pitching moments at low produced strong left yaw (due to gyroscopic coupling) and needed a full right rudder. On December 14, 1967, when I managed to reach 100,110 feet and authenticate it, we wisely decided to call it a day. Interestingly, that record still stands today as a Canadian national altitude record.’

Photo by aeroprints.com via Wikipedia, San Diego Air & Space Museum Archives, René Francillon Photo Archive via Wikipedia, U.S. Navy

October 4, 2021 0 comment

History

Why USAF killed the SR-71 program

by Till Daisd October 3, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“The termination of the SR-71 Blackbird was a grave mistake and could place our nation at a serious disadvantage in the event of a future crisis,” Senator John Glenn

The Lockheed A-12 and YF-12A aircraft were used to create the long-range, cutting-edge strategic reconnaissance aircraft known as the SR-71, also known as the Blackbird. The first SR-71 to enter service was delivered to the 4200th (later 9th) Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base, California, in January 1966. The SR-71’s first flight took place on December 22, 1964.

No SR-71 has ever been lost or damaged as a result of hostile action because of its remarkable speed, which allowed it to acquire intelligence while slicing through hostile skies in a matter of seconds. It could survey 100,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface per hour from an altitude of 80,000 feet.

'The Blackbird can't fire a gun and doesn't carry a bomb, and I don't want it:' why USAF killed the SR-71 program

The U.S. Air Force (USAF) retired its fleet of SR-71s on January 26, 1990, despite the aircraft’s remarkable flight characteristics, due to a decreasing defense budget, high operating costs, and the availability of advanced spy satellites.

“General Larry Welch, the Air Force chief of staff, staged a one-man campaign on Capitol Hill to kill the program entirely,” Ben Rich wrote in his book Skunk Works: A Personal Memoir of My Years of Lockheed. “General Welch thought sophisticated spy satellites made the SR-71 a disposable luxury. Welch had headed the Strategic Air Command and was partial to its priorities. He wanted to use SR-71 refurbishment funding for the development of the B-2 bomber. He was quoted by columnist Rowland Evans as saying, ‘The Blackbird can’t fire a gun and doesn’t carry a bomb, and I don’t want it.’ Then the general went on the Hill and claimed to certain powerful committee chairmen that he could operate a wing of fifteen to twenty [F-15E] fighter-bombers for what it cost him to fly a single SR-71. That claim was bogus. So it was claimed by SAC generals that the SR-71 cost $400 million annually to run. The actual cost was about $260 million.”

The SR-71 was retired as a result of testimony before Congress from both Welch and SAC commander General John Chain.

As Rich so aptly reflected, “A general would always prefer commanding a large fleet of conventional fighters or bombers that provides high visibility and glory. By contrast, buying into Blackbird would mean deep secrecy, small numbers, and no limelight.”

With the exception of training flights, Blackbird operations were officially discontinued in November 1989 after being cut from the Defense Department’s FY1990 budget.

One Blackbird is famous for breaking several speed records during its “retirement flight” on March 6, 1990. The Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum (NASM) Udvar-Hazy Center at Dulles Airport received the SR-71 with the tail number 64-17972 after it was flown from California. In the process, it achieved a coast-to-coast speed record for the National Aeronautic Association of 2,086 miles in one hour and seven minutes, or an average speed of 2,124.5 mph. With an average speed of 2,176.08 mph, it completed the 311-mile St. Louis-to-Cincinnati leg in under nine minutes.

Within a few months of this widely publicized flight, Saddam Hussein’s Iraqi army had occupied Kuwait, and the United States was taking part in the Desert Shield buildup, which culminated in Operation Desert Storm in January and February 1991. This information is provided by Bill Yenne in his book Area 51 Black Jets. Many military commanders, including General Norman Schwarzkopf, lamented the lack of quick reconnaissance that the SR-71 might have provided during that combat.

The Middle East and North Korea are among the global spots, and growing worries about these scenarios prompted Congress to reevaluate the SR-71’s activation. Admiral Richard Macke, the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s director of joint staff, informed Congress in 1993 that “from the operator’s perspective, what I need is something that will not give me just a spot in time but will give me a track of what is happening. When we are trying to find out if the Serbs are taking arms, moving tanks, or artillery into Bosnia, we can get a picture of them stacked up on the Serbian side of the bridge. We do not know whether they then went on to move across that bridge. We need the [reconnaissance information] that a tactical, an SR-71, a U-2, or an unmanned vehicle of some sort will give us, in addition to, not in replacement of, the ability of the satellites to go around and check not only that spot but a lot of other spots around the world for us. It is the integration of strategic and tactical.”

Congress approved a resumption of money in its FY1994 appropriations to allow for the reactivation of a portion of the SR-71 fleet. Many of the twenty SR-71s that were still flying at the time were being prepared for museum exhibits, but at least a dozen were being stored at Palmdale or participating in NASA research missions.

Because the USAF moved too slowly toward reactivating the SR-71, President Bill Clinton vetoed the money in October 1997. Only two Blackbirds remained at NASA’s Dryden Flight Research Center at Edwards AFB when the US Air Force ordered the aircraft permanently grounded in 1998.

The Linear Aerospike SR-71 Experiment (LASRE) series, carried out in 1997 and 1998, was one of the final NASA missions for the SR-71. The goal was to investigate how lifting bodies and aerospike engines performed in terms of aerodynamics. This was done using the Lockheed Martin Skunk Works X-33, a prototype for the VentureStar single-stage-to-orbit reusable spaceplane. After NASA ended the latter program in 2001, Lockheed Martin continued to work on it.

The last words that Americans heard when discussing the Blackbird’s fate are those that Senator John Glenn said on the Senate floor the day following the 1990 “retirement flight.”

The development of the iconic SR-71 Blackbird: how the world's fastest plane was conceived

Said the former astronaut, “The termination of the SR-71 was a grave mistake and could place our nation at a serious disadvantage in the event of a future crisis. Yesterday’s historic transcontinental flight was a sad memorial to our shortsighted policy in strategic aerial reconnaissance.”

Photo by Lockheed Martin, U.S. Air Force, and NASA

October 3, 2021 0 comment

History

F4U Vs MiG-15: when the WWII Corsair became a MiG Killer

by Till Daisd September 30, 2021

written by Till Daisd

“When his parachute opened, I could see his “G” suit burning from head to foot. I glanced down and saw the flaming MiG hit the water vertically,” Capt. Jesse Folmar, VMA-312 F4U Corsair pilot

Some U.S. Navy and Marine Corps F4U Corsairs were sent up against the night raiders that North Korea sortied over UN lines after dark during the Korean War, despite being outclassed by the new generation of jet fighters and primarily used in the close air support role. It was in an F4U-5N night fighter that Lt. Guy Bordelon became the U.S. Navy’s lone ace of the conflict.

Nevertheless, on September 10, 1952, Capt. Jesse Folmar, flying a Corsair from VMA-312, was able to shoot down one of the two MiG-15s that had bounced him and his wingman, according to Warren Thompson in his book F4U Corsair Units of the Korean War.

The light carrier Sicily supported attacks into North Korea by F4U units VMF-214 (1950), VMF-323 (1951), and VMA-312, which operated from the ship between September 4 and October 19, 1952, and between August 1950 and December 1952.

On September 10, 1952, the ship launched a significant number of the “Checkerboards” F4U-4Bs in order to put out the most effort possible for interdiction and close air support operations. A historic encounter with some aggressive MiG-15s would occur throughout the course of the operation between Capt. Jesse G. Folmar, who was commanding one division, and his wingman Lt. Walter E. Daniels. They were instructed to strike a troop concentration on the south side of the Taedong River, close to Chinnampo, and they took off at 16:10.

Capt. Folmar remembered the sequence of events:

“As we crossed the coast and headed into enemy territory, we begged to execute a tactical weave at 10,000 ft. Arriving over the target area, we observed no activity, so we continued to fly reconnaissance in the area of the Taejon estuary. As we started to bank over a small island off the coast, I caught a glimpse of two MiG-15s in the early stages of setting up for a firing pass on us. They were in loose section formation, so I steepened the angle of my banking turns into them while at the same time increasing power. I jettisoned all external ordnance and fuel tanks and then switched to the guard channel to report that we were being attacked by MiGs. I told Lt. Daniels to fly a much tighter weave and not to let the communist lees out of his sight.

F4U Vs MiG-15: the story of how the WWII Corsair became a MiG Killer

“Seconds later, I spotted two more of them closing rapidly from my ‘eight o’clock’. I turned hard to the left, trying to bring my guns to bear before they could open fire, but due to their rapid closure, I was unable to do so. Their tracers were overshooting us, so I reversed my bank to the right and turned inside one of the MiGs as he started a climbing left turn. I pulled up and got him squarely in my gunsights, giving him about 20 mils’ lead. I then triggered off a long, five-second burst with my four 20 mm cannons.

“I could tell that I had him boresighted by the blinking flashes along the left side of his fuselage. A grey trail of fuel vapor began to stream from the MiG, and this quickly turned into billowing black smoke. He nosed over slightly and seemed to lose acceleration. Seconds later, the pilot ejected, and he tumbled through the air in what appeared to be a ball of smoke. When his parachute opened, I could see his “G” suit burning from head to foot. I glanced down and saw the flaming MiG hit the water vertically.”

Folmar and Daniels both began their defensive weave, and soon four more MiGs—arranged loosely in a column of two sections—joined the battle. The Corsair couple’s chances were suddenly considerably worse against them. Folmar made the decision to leave and head home, ordering a hard break to the left and downward.

“I had just started picking up good diving speed when I saw balls of tracer passing on my left. At that instant, I felt a severe jolt and explosion in my left wing. My aircraft began to shudder as if in a high-speed stall. I glanced over and saw that my left aileron and about four feet of my left wing were gone. Also, the top of the left wing was gutted to the inboard side of my inboard 20 mm gun. My damaged aeroplane was trying to roll to the left, although the control column was placed in a full right position. This led to my decision that it would be too hazardous to attempt a landing back on Sicily, so I decided to bail out.”

Before preparing to bail out, Folmar sent out a distress signal for search and rescue and reiterated his location. Another MiG made a firing pass at him while he was doing this, but its shells missed. He dropped clear after rolling out of the right side of the cockpit at a height of 3000 feet.

He heard an ear-splitting noise as he pulled the D-ring on his parachute, and as he looked up, he saw another MiG shooting at his downed Corsair. Seven MiG-15s were still in the area, but they took off as soon as Folmar touched down in the sea. He calculated that he was in the water for around eight minutes until an SA-16 Albatross “Dumbo” came to his aid.

Photo by Bzuk via Wikipedia, U.S. Air Force, and U.S. Navy

F4U Corsair Units of the Korean War is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

September 30, 2021 0 comment

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