coldwar

“I assumed the Soviet MiG-31 fighter pilot would like nothing better than an opportunity to fire his missiles at an SR-71 Blackbird. Certainly, the SR-71 Blackbird would be a prized target,” Ed Yeilding, former SR-71 pilot

Major Mikhail Myagkiy, a retired Soviet MiG-31 pilot, participated in several attempts to intercept SR-71 Blackbirds during Peacetime Aerial Reconnaissance Operations Program (PAROP) missions to the Barents Sea area.

According to his logbook, Myagkiy has conducted 14 successful SR-71 intercepts:

21 August 1984

14 March 1985

18 March 1985

15 April 1985

17 July 1985

19 December 1985

20 January 1986

31 January 1986

21 February 1986

28 February 1986

1 April 1986

6 October 1986

23 December 1986

8 January 1987

Two of these intercepts were carried out by Ed Yeilding aboard an SR-71. Yeilding discusses the intercept from October 6, 1986, in Lockheed Blackbird: Beyond the Secret Missions (Revised Edition), written by Paul F. Crickmore.

As Yeilding recalls one of his “Barents missions was especially memorable because we had an encounter with a Soviet MiG-31. Because most details of Blackbird flights were classified at that time, I made no notes about the encounter, so I cannot verify the date of the encounter. I am certain that RSO Curt Osterheld was with me at the time. Curt and I had only two tours together at Mildenhall, so the encounter was between 25 Aug 1986 and 8 Oct 1986, or between 14 Apr 1987 and 7 May 1987. (I don’t remember why that second tour was only three weeks.) I think the encounter might have been the last flight of our first tour. My flight records show we had a 4.1-hour mission with Blackbird tail ‘980 on 6 Oct 1986.

“On that memorable MiG-31 encounter mission, I was glad to be flying with Curt, an outstanding RSO admired by all, and, by the way, one of the most popular Habus. There we were, 71,000ft, starting our Mach 3.0 reconnaissance track, heading east just outside the territorial waters of Russia’s Murmansk area coastline. I knew Curt was very busy in the rear cockpit with his many duties monitoring and managing cameras, sensors, and navigation. I kept a constant crosscheck of the many indicators and controls in the front cockpit, watching carefully for potential system failures, and maintaining stable airspeed and the most efficient altitude for our weight.

“After Curt and I completed our first pass flying south-east parallel to the Russian border, gathering imagery and electronic intelligence, our mission track turned us left about 90° and northwards, directly away from Russia over the Barents Sea. After the turn and perhaps another minute in that northerly direction, we turned 180°, and flew directly towards and perpendicular to the Russian coast.

“Our altitude then was probably about 75,000ft. At that altitude, we could see the horizon 335 miles away and see the slight, but noticeable, curvature of the earth. The view was grand. Ahead were miles off the Barents Sea and snow-covered Russia beyond. In the distance far ahead, at perhaps 100 miles, I could see a long, bright white Russian contrail flying directly toward us, but at a much lower altitude. I knew it must be a Soviet fighter, probably a MiG-31, then the newest Soviet supersonic interceptor. I raised my periscope and saw that we too were leaving a long contrail. I knew the fighter could see our contrail as easily as I could see his. Since we were flying a routine reconnaissance track that the Soviets had seen many times, I knew the fighter knew exactly where we would start our 90° right turn to parallel the coast in a westerly direction.

“I imagined the Soviet fighter pilot was much like me, with a love of aviation and trying hard to be one of the very best. I also assumed he had orders to fire his missiles if I was late with my turn and slipped over Soviet territorial waters to within 12nm of Soviet land, and I assumed the pilot would like nothing better than an opportunity to fire his missiles at an SR-71 Blackbird. Just three years prior, on 1 September 1983, a Soviet fighter shot down a Korean Air Lines 747 that accidentally crossed into Russian airspace north of Japan, killing all 269 aboard. Certainly, the SR-71 Blackbird would be a prized target.

“I believed the Soviet fighter would not fire his missiles as long as we stayed on our usual track, but I also knew he or his ground controllers could mistake our position as being closer than we actually were. In the 1980s, we were not too concerned about missiles as long as we maintained our high altitude and high speed. From my previous years of flying intercepts in the F-4 fighter, I knew the newer MiG-31 would still have difficulty maneuvering to the required launch envelope even if he knew our exact flight path. Also, in the high altitude thin air, we believed that missile maneuverability, range, and proximity fuses were not adequate to bring down the Mach 3 Blackbird. For radar-guided missiles, our low radar reflectivity further decreased the missile ‘probability of kill’, and we had a jamming capability for further assurance. I knew our contrail could help him visually put his piper on us for a heat-seeking missile lock-on’. We had no defenses like flares against heat-seeking missiles, but again, we believed that the missile ‘probability of kill’ was very low due to our high speed and altitude. I was determined to fly the track as planned and get the pictures.

“Flying straight toward each other in our supersonic jets, I was reminded of two gallant medieval knights galloping full speed toward each other, only I did not have a weapon. For survival, Curt and I depended on accurate navigation to keep us just outside Soviet territorial waters to prevent a launch, and we depended on our superior speed and altitude in case missiles were launched.

“The fighter’s contrail was holding constant altitude and was heading straight toward us, but far below, perhaps altitude 40,000ft I guessed. I imagined he might be accelerating for a possible steep climb toward our altitude. I watched our distance indicator count down to our turn point, decreasing a mile every two seconds. As always, I was prepared, if necessary, to start the turn manually with the autopilot roll wheel or with the flight control stick, but at our turn point, the autopilot automatically initiated our 90° turn to the right.

“Our 90° turn toward the west was programmed for 32° of the bank. In the turn, I kept a close watch on my instrument panel as always, ready to handle any malfunction. During my instrument crosscheck, I turned my head frequently to watch the fighter’s contrail and saw that he was in a very steep climbing turn toward us. Perhaps a minute into my turn, while turning my pressure suit helmet with my hands so that I could see behind, I saw the grey metal of the fighter, low at my left 7:30 position, at the top of his steeply climbing contrail. We were still in our right 32° banked turn, but I could see him, barely larger than a dot. I could not discern any identifying features like twin tails or distinctive shapes. From my F-4 experience with intercepts and visual acuity, my best guess is that 8 miles were his closest approach. He appeared to run out of airspeed at the top of his contrail, at maybe 65,000ft or about 10,000ft below us. I saw his nose drop below the horizon and fall away. Curt and I stayed on course and got the pictures.

“During my three years of flying overseas reconnaissance missions, I frequently saw contrails far below of potentially hostile fighters, but that day, above the Arctic Circle over the Barents Sea, was the only time I saw a Soviet fighter get close enough that I could actually see metal, though barely larger than a dot and only because our routine track was predictable. Back at Mildenhall, during our debriefing, our intelligence officer told us, with near certainty, that the interceptor was a MiG-31, the premier Soviet supersonic interceptor at that time.”

In the back seat with Ed on Oct. 6, 1986, intercepted was Maj Curt Osterheld. He recalls:

“Ed’s description of operations in the Barents Sea is perfect. We knew that the mission was strategically critical in keeping an eye on the Soviet ballistic missile submarine fleet. But we were also aware that if something went wrong with the airplane, the crew did not have many options. Given that we were operating under the rules of the Peacetime Aerial Reconnaissance Programme (PARPRO), our path was predictable, and the Soviets used us for ‘training’… both for the surface-to-air missiles and fighter intercepts. I do have a very clear memory of turning westbound away from Novaya Zemlya (a.k.a. Banana Island). Looking out the right window and with the help of the mirrors, I could see we were pulling a fat contrail at 75,000ft. Looking down I could see a pair of circular contrails, which, I assumed, were Soviet fighters setting up for a ‘practice’ intercept. We believed that the only chance an interceptor (MiG-31) would have at a decent shot was a ‘beak-to-beak’ pass. I believed like Ed, the velocity of closure and geometry of the required maneuver gave a very low PK (Probability of Kill) to this shot.”

Photo by U.S. Air Force and  Dmitriy Pichugin via Wikimedia Commons

Lockheed Blackbird: Beyond the Secret Missions (Revised Edition) is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

“Suddenly the wife began sliding her wedding ring off and handed it to me. She said, ‘I would love to have my ring flown at Mach 3,’” Richard H. Graham, SR-71 pilot

The following story appears in Col. Richard H. Graham’s book Flying the SR-71 Blackbird.

At a Wife’s Insistence

Sometimes visitors would ask if we would take a personal trinket of theirs on a Mach 3 flight. Some of the items I’ve taken up with me are coins, dollar bills, American flags, unit patches, and pilot wings.

Once at Det 1, a husband and wife were watching Don and me suit up for a mission. After all the pressure-suit checks were done, I casually asked if there was anything they would like me to take up for them. They looked at each other with a blank stare for a second or two, when suddenly the wife began sliding her wedding ring off and handed it to me. She said, “I would love to have my ring flown at Mach 3.”

I sensed the husband was uneasy with this. He emphatically said, “No!” as he reached out to get the ring back from me. Not wanting a family argument in PSD [physiological support division], I handed it to him and said, “It’s probably best anyway; it looks expensive and could get lost or damaged.”

I thought that was the end of it. She took the ring from him and proceeded to hand it back to me! This time I was smart enough to know not to reach out for the ring. She looked him square in the eyes and said, “My ring is going to fly at Mach 3!” She handed me the ring again, and this time hubby backed off. He knew she was getting serious, and this wasn’t the time or place for a family feud. I wrapped her wedding ring in a protective cloth and zipped it in one of my pressure-suit pockets. I’m not a good judge of diamond ring quality, but it was an impressive stone. The mission went well and the Mach 3 ring was returned to its happy owner!

Photo by U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Michael Haggerty

“We had no viable emergency airfields, and I did not want to be a no-notice, no–flight plan, single-engine emergency arrival at David Ben-Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, especially since the Israeli government had not been informed in advance about the mission,” Jim Wilson, SR-71 pilot

The Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird Mach 3 strategic reconnaissance aircraft was the fastest and highest-flying operational aircraft in the world for about 24 years throughout its career. It could survey 100,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface per hour from 80,000 feet. In the unlikely event that an enemy attempted to bring it down with a missile, the Blackbird just had to speed up and outrun it.

Notably, some SR-71 operational sorties had a higher priority than others. There were several means of ensuring they would be flown successfully. The lowest level of mission priority had a spare SR-71 ready and waiting in case the primary aircraft malfunctioned. The next priority level had a spare crew in the cockpit of a second SR-71 waiting for codewords that the primary aircraft had malfunctioned and that they were to launch ASAP. The highest level of priority had a spare SR-71 flying the same route directly behind the primary aircraft by about 30 minutes.

Once the primary aircraft was a “go,” the spare aircraft returned to base.

If a completely new mission was tasked and had a level of difficulty that required in-depth mission planning, it could possibly take the crews several days to get all the details worked out with the mission planners. These were generally high-priority missions that arose from a crisis somewhere in the world.

SR-71 pilot Jim Wilson gives the following account of one mission during the Yom Kippur War, which can be found in Col. Richard H. Graham’s book Flying the SR-71 Blackbird:

“On October 6, 1973, the armies of Egypt and Syria opened an offensive against Israel on two fronts, launching a coordinated series of air, armored, and artillery attacks across the Suez Canal into the Sinai and on the Golan Heights. The preemptive strike came as a result of a failure to resolve territorial disputes arising from the Arab-Israeli War of 1967.

“These disputes involved the return of the Sinai to Egypt and return of the Golan Heights to Syria. UN Resolution 242 and Egyptian president Sadat’s peace initiative failed to bring peace. Sadat wanted to sign an agreement with Israel, provided the Israelis returned all the occupied territories, but Israelis refused to withdraw to the pre-1967 armistice lines. Since no diplomatic progress was being made toward peace, Sadat was convinced that to change things and gain legitimacy at home, he must initiate a war with limited objectives.

“Along the Suez Canal, eighty thousand well-equipped members of the Egyptian army who had crossed the Suez on rapidly constructed pontoon bridges attacked fewer than five hundred Israeli defenders. In the Golan Heights, approximately 180 Israeli tanks faced an onslaught of 1,400 Syrian tanks. Initial Israeli military losses were significant, and assistance was requested from the United States.

“National reconnaissance satellites did not have the capability that needed to sufficiently assess the situation. The 9th SRW at Beale AFB, California, was alerted to prepare to fly SR-71 missions from Beale AFB over the area of conflict and recover at RAF Base Mildenhall, England, a mission within the design capability of the aircraft, although a long and logistically difficult mission never before accomplished in operational environment.

“Within the first few days of the conflict, the supporting Arab nations initiated an oil embargo, making oil a weapon of war and contributing to a decision by the British government to deny approval to use Mildenhall as a recovery base. Plan B was rapidly drawn up to fly SR-71 out of Griffiss AFB, New York, through the area of conflict, and recover back at Griffiss. These never-before-accomplished twelve thousand—mile missions would require five air-to-air refuelings, the deployment of sixteen KC-135Q supporting tankers with special JP-7 fuel to Spain, and a specialized maintenance intelligence and operational support planning staff to Griffiss. The 9th SRW was well prepared, and in utmost secrecy, the forces were mobilized and deployed. The first mission was successfully completed on October 13.

“I was a fairly young pilot in the squadron at the time, with only one operational tour and about 120 hours of SR-71 time under my belt. On October 20, I was assigned to fly a backup SR-71 from Beale to Griffiss in an alert posture, prepared to fly follow-on missions. We flew successful missions on October 25 and November 2, where I served as a backup pilot. My turn as primary came up on November 11. The excitement level was high, as I certainly wanted to be part of the Force and the wing’s success in completing the mission as tasked.

“Takeoff was at 2 a.m. on a brisk and clear autumn night with about fifteen inches of snow already on the ground. It was peacefully calm — until I lit each of the thirty-four-thousand-pound thrust afterburners. The first 450 mites had to be flown subsonic at 0.9 Mach since we had to clear the commercial aircraft flight tracks out of Boston and New York to Europe before we could safely conduct air refueling operations. Radio-silent electronic rendezvous with three tankers 250 miles out over the North Atlantic at 3 a.m. went well, as did the seventy-thousand-pound (10,600-gallon) fuel offload.

“You don’t know the true meaning of dark until you’ve been in a situation like this. We likened it to refueling in an inkwell. After completing a few post-refueling checks, I lit the afterburners and started my acceleration to a leisurely Mach 3 cruise across the Atlantic. The airplane performed flawlessly, thanks to the extra-special effort by maintenance guys. About two thousand miles across the Atlantic on an easterly heading, I watched with excitement as the sun peeked over the horizon and came up right in my face in about a minute and a half—a nice vantage point for viewing this daily event.

“The second refueling was conducted in daylight, a couple of hundred miles north of the Azores. This was another seventy-thousand-pound offload, thirty-five thousand pounds from each of the two tankers, while the airborne spare tanker was not needed. I started my second acceleration and headed for the Strait of Gibraltar. Cruising through the center of the narrow strait at eighty thousand feet with clear weather one hundred miles on both sides provided quite a spectacular view.

“As we proceeded down the Mediterranean toward the Middle East, the weather grew gradually worse as forecasted. The third air refueling south of Crete, although in poor weather, went as scheduled. After packing in a full load of eighty thousand pounds of JP-7 fuel, I lit the afterburners and started the acceleration toward the target area.

“At 0.98 Mach, just prior to going supersonic, maximum fuel flow full afterburner, a red engine-oil-quantity-low light illuminated steady on my emergency warning annunciator panel. I stared at it in almost disbelief, while scanning engine instruments, oil pressure, rpm, exhaust gas temperature, and nozzle position for other indications of trouble. Although there were no confirming indications of problems, I couldn’t just ignore the situation and continue on into the target area with the possibility of an engine failure at supersonic speed over the Sinai. We had no viable emergency airfields, and I did not want to be a no-notice, no–flight plan, single-engine emergency arrival at David Ben-Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, especially since the Israeli government had not been informed in advance about the missions and they were in a battle for their own survival. I took the engines out of the afterburner to access the situation and think about the best course of action.

“To my pleasant surprise, a few seconds after coming out of afterburner, the red emergency warning light went out. I was by now fairly well convinced that it was a false momentary indication, but it had cost me 2,500 pounds of critically needed fuel. My tankers were now eighty miles behind me heading further away. Getting rejoined to top off with fuel would present a new set of problems. I decided to light the burners and press on. Except for a five-second flash during acceleration, I never saw the light again.

“My flight track went down the Suez Canal past Cairo before making a left turn at Mach 3.15 to the north across the battle lines in the Sinai. I continued on a northerly course across the Dead Sea and over the center of the Golan Heights with the panoramic and point cameras providing imagery of hundreds of targets on both sides of the aircraft. Approaching the Lebanon border, I made a sweeping right turn over Syria and then back into the Sinai on a parallel flight path for maximum coverage. The airplane was running well, and I pushed it up a bit to Mach 3.2 before exiting the area near Port Said.

“Once out over the Mediterranean, I started a descent to twenty-five thousand feet for my fourth refueling. As fate would have it, not only I was low on fuel because of my previous oil warning problem, but also a thunderstorm had moved in over the scheduled air refueling contact point. My reconnaissance systems officer (RSO), using electronic azimuth and distance measure equipment, got me to within less than a mile behind my tanker, but the visibility was so poor that I couldn’t see the tanker. We continued twenty miles down the track in lousy weather with only one-half mile and one thousand feet separation before a small break in the clouds permitted hookup. When we made contact and started transferring fuel, I had less than fifteen minutes of fuel remaining and was seventy-five miles from the closest straight-in emergency landing runway on Crete. Needless to say, I was very thankful to tanker buddies, RSO, and good equipment for that rendezvous. It gives new meaning to finding a gas station when you really need one.

“We completed a fifth seventy-thousand-pound air refueling near the Azores before the leisurely Mach 3 flight across the mid-Atlantic with a landing at Seymour Johnson AFB, North Carolina. We were met by 9th SRW download crews who had the photo and electronic intelligence equipment downloaded and on a dedicated AF courier flight to Washington, D.C., and the National Photographic Interpretation Center in twenty minutes. The flight covered 12,181 miles in ten hours, forty-nine minutes, and included six hours, forty-one minutes of supersonic time, and five air refuelings. After landing, I remember wondering what Charles Lindbergh would have thought about the advancement of aviation technology in less than fifty years. The 9th SRW was tasked to fly nine missions of this type and completed them all successfully.”

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