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coldwar

The F-15E Strike Eagle’s 2000-lb laser-guided bombing of an Iraqi Mi-24 during Operation Desert Storm

by Till Daisd January 5, 2024

One of the most unique air-to-air kills in aviation history is ascribed to “Chiefs” from 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron (TFS, now known as 335th Fighter Squadron, FS) during Operation Desert Storm F-15E Strike Eagle #89-0487, or “487” for short

The F-15E Strike Eagle was created to satisfy the US Air Force’s (USAF) requirement for air-to-ground missions. It took off for the first time in December 1986 from St. Louis. In addition to having an infrared targeting and advanced navigation system, which enables the Strike Eagle to fly at night or in bad weather at a low altitude while maintaining a high speed, the Strike Eagle can carry 23,000 pounds of air-to-ground and air-to-air weaponry, shielding it from enemy defenses.

April 1988 saw the delivery of the F-15E’s first production model to the 405th Tactical Training Wing at Luke AFB in Arizona.

During Operation Desert Storm, which was launched between January 17, 1991, and February 28, 1991, with the intention of freeing Kuwait from the Iraqi invasion, the F-15E was used for the first time in combat. One of the most unique air-to-air kills in aviation history was attributed to F-15E Strike Eagle #89-0487, or “487” for short, from the 335th Tactical Fighter Squadron (TFS, now known as the 335th Fighter Squadron, FS) “Chiefs” during this combat.

The first air-to-air kill for an F-15E Strike Eagle took place on February 14, 1991, during an air encounter by Capts. Richard T. Bennett, pilot, and Daniel B. Bakke, weapon systems operator (WSO).

“On one flight, we used a laser-guided bomb [LGB] to shoot down a helicopter,” Bennet explained to Barry D. Smith for his article Tim Bennett’s War. “This occurred on February 14, Valentine’s Day. The mission was a Scud CAP [combat air patrol] in northwestern Iraq. During the Scud CAPs, we would look around with either the FLIR targeting pod or the radar to find the mobile Scuds. My wingman had twelve Mk. 82s, and I had four GBU-10s-2,000-pound LGBs-four AIM-9s, and two external fuel tanks. I was leading the flight.

“Our CAP time on this mission was 1:00 to 3:00 in the morning. We went up and hit the tanker, then proceeded north. Our patrol area started up at Al Qaim, near the Syrian border, and ran east about halfway to Baghdad, south to just beyond H-2, and then back to the Syrian border.

“The weather was bad that night, with clouds from about 4,000 feet to about 18,000 feet. We were cruising above the weather, waiting for AWACS [an E-3 Airborne Warning and Control System aircraft] or someone else to pass us some coordinates on some Scuds.

“AWACS gave us a call and said that a Special Forces team was in trouble. They had been found by the Iraqis, who were moving to cut them off. We had ten to fifteen Special Forces teams in the general area looking for Scuds. This team was about 300 miles across the border.

“Five Iraqi helicopters were in their area-about fifty miles to our west. As we headed in their direction, I put my wingman in a four-mile trail formation behind me because I had to go down through the weather. When I was about fifty miles from the team, Capt. Dan Bakke, my back-seater, began working the radar to look for the helicopters. We got contacts on them moving west to east, just like the AWACS had said.

“Dan and I started talking about what we were going to do. We knew there were helicopters down there, but if we were going to shoot them down, we wanted confirmation that they were bad guys. We called up AWACS, call sign Cougar, and asked them if there were any friendly helicopters in the area. The AWACS controller said, ‘We don’t have any friendlies in the area. Any helicopters you find, you are cleared to shoot.’

“We got a little closer and kept going down to get below the weather. I wanted to confirm, one more time, before we lost contact with AWACS, that these were definitely bad guys and not some of our Special Forces helicopters coming to get the team. We had a few based in Syria that would have been following the same general course and could have gotten to the area fairly quickly. AWACS confirmed there were no friendlies in the area.

“We continued to press in and were down to about 2,500 feet along the major road between Baghdad and the Syrian border. That area was always hot with a lot of AAA. I was working the radar, and Dan was working the high-resolution FLIR in the targeting pod to find the helicopters. When we popped out of the clouds fifteen to twenty miles from the team, Dan could see the helicopters with the pod. They were moving pretty much abreast, with the lead out in front in the middle. They were still moving west to east. They were moving and stopping at regular intervals.

“There was also a group of troops on the ground to the east of the team. We started getting AAA fire from these troops. To us, it looked as if they were trying to herd the team with the helicopters into the troops to the east. The helicopters were keeping an even distance from each other, and we figured they might be dropping off troops to help herd the team.

“The image on the pod was good enough to identify the helicopters as probable [Mi-24] ‘Hinds,’ five to ten miles out. Hinds can carry troops and are heavily armed with rockets and machine guns. As soon as the helicopters picked up and started moving, we were getting hits off them on the radar. The radar would stay locked on them when they were on the ground because the moving rotor blades were picked up.

“Dan and I discussed how we wanted to conduct the attack. We decided to hit the lead helicopter with a GBU-10 while he was on the ground. If we hit him, he would be destroyed. If he moved off before the bomb landed, it would still get the troops he just left on the ground. It would also give the other helicopters something to think about, which might give the team a chance to get away in the confusion. We would then circle around and pop the others as we could. We passed our plan to our wingman and told him to get the first helicopter he saw with an AIM-9.

“By this time, we were screaming over the ground, doing about 600 knots–almost 700 mph. The AAA was still coming up pretty thick. Our course took us right over the top of the Iraqi troops to the east of the team.

F-15E Mi-24 killer — F-15E Strike Eagle #89-0487 armed for a close air support mission over Afghanistan.

“[…] Dan was lasing the lead helicopter. We let the bomb go from about four miles out while the leader was on the ground. Because of our speed, it had a hell of a range on it-more range than an AIM-9. I got AIM-9 guidance going and uncaged a Sidewinder. I was ready to fire the missile as soon as we were in range.

“Just as we released the bomb, the airspeed readout on the radar showed the target at 100 knots and climbing. The lead chopper had picked up and started moving. I said, ‘There’s no chance the bomb will get him now,’ even though Dan was working hard to keep the laser spot on him. I got a good lock with my missile and was about to pickle off a Sidewinder when the bomb flew into my field of view on the targeting IR screen.

“There was a big flash, and I could see pieces flying in different directions. It blew the helicopter to hell, damn near vaporized it.

“We sat there for a few seconds, just staring. By that time, the AAA was getting real heavy and the other helicopters were starting to scatter. I told my wingman to put three Mk. 82 500-pounders on that same spot to get any troops that the helos dropped off.

“We beat up the area with bombs and were going to circle around and come down on them again. I popped up above 10,000 feet and talked to AWACS to tell them what was going on. They said, ‘I understand you visually ID’ed that as an Iraqi helo.’

“I said, ‘No, it’s still dark out here, but I saw a FLIR image of what I took to be a Hind.’

“At that point, my stomach hit the floor. I told AWACS to get the AWACS commander on the radio. Dan and I were thinking, ‘We hit a friendly helo.’ But when we got the AWACS commander on the air, he confirmed that there were no friendlies in the area.

“With that confirmed, I told Dan, ‘OK, let’s go back down and get the rest of the helos.’ We got down low and the AAA was just as bad as before. The helicopters scattered and were running north. My wingman and I were sorting them out and waiting to get within AIM-9 range. We were about ten miles behind and closing fast.

“I was running in on them and getting ready to be a hero and knock a few more down when, all of a sudden, I started seeing flashes on both sides of us. I thought, ‘What have they done? Here we are in the middle of a bunch of SAMs!’

“Then it hit me: Those weren’t SAMs. They were bombs! AWACS had sent another flight in and told them to drop bombs on a set of coordinates. Those coordinates happened to be us!”

Bennet concludes:

“I figured we had pushed our luck far enough, and we got the hell out of there. AWACS gave the orders to that other flight on another frequency. If it had been on ours, I would have heard the bombers’ side of the conversation and could have canceled the drop. I decided we had had enough for one day, but our night wasn’t over yet. We still had fifteen minutes left on our Scud CAP and were directed to a site near H-2. We found a mobile Scud on a launchpad, attacked it, and then headed home.

“The Special Forces team got out OK and went back to Central Air Forces headquarters to say thanks and confirm our kill for us. They saw the helicopter go down. When the helos had bugged out, the team moved back to the west and was extracted.”

Today, “487”is still assigned to the same squadron it made history with in 1991. It’s the Chiefs’ flagship and still has a small green star adorned on the aircraft’s port side representing that moment in the squadron’s history.

F-15E Driver explains how he shot down an Iraqi Mi-24 attack helicopter with a 2000lb laser-guided bomb — The green star on Aircraft #89-0487 represents an air-to-air victory achieved during Operation Desert Storm.

Photo by Master Sgt. Lance Cheung, James D’Angina and MSGT STEVEN TURNER / U.S. Air Force

January 5, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

SR-71 pilot tells when he revealed Blackbird’s true top speed

by Till Daisd January 3, 2024

written by Till Daisd

‘At some point in the evening, the F-111 guys began to press me, in a good-natured way, for classified information about the SR-71. Probably the most frequently asked Blackbird question is, how high and how fast does it really fly?’ Gil Bertelson, former SR-71 Blackbird pilot

No reconnaissance aircraft in history has operated globally in more hostile airspace or with such complete impunity as the SR-71, the world’s fastest jet-propelled aircraft. The Blackbird represented the highest point in aviation technology development during the Cold War due to its performance and operational accomplishments.

The SR-71 could cover 100,000 square miles of land per hour while traveling at Mach 3+, or three times the speed of sound, or more than 2,000 mph, at an altitude of 80,000 feet.

Now, the question that people ask most often when discussing the SR-71 Blackbird is probably, “How high and how fast does it really fly?“

In the book SR-71 Blackbird Stories, Tales and Legends by Richard H. Graham, Lieutenant Colonel (Ret) Gil Bertelson, a former SR-71 pilot, recalls:

‘When I first joined the SR-71 program, there was one permanent operating location for SR-71s at Kadena AB. The unit at Kadena was known as Detachment 1 (or Det 1) of the 9th SRW. Habus were deployed to Det 1 for six weeks at a time, and each crew made the trip four to six times a year. About twice a year, there was a requirement to temporarily activate an additional Det at RAF Mildenhall in England. Although we’d had two SR-71s permanently stationed at RAF Mildenhall since 1981, it wasn’t until April 5, 1984, that Prime Minister Thatcher formally announced SR-71s would be permanently based at Mildenhall. This unit was known as Det. 4 of the 9th SRW. Dets 2 and 3 of the 9th SRW were U-2 operating locations at Osan AB, Korea, and RAF Akrotiri, Cyprus, respectively.

The incredible story of the SR-71 Blackbird that flew an eleven-hour-long mission from Kadena to the Persian Gulf and back

‘There was a significantly different flying environment between the two detachments. The weather was almost at opposite ends of the spectrum. The missions were not quite as “routine” as many of the Okinawa missions.

‘Because of the more demanding missions at Mildenhall, each new SR-71 crew had to fly its first operational sorties at Kadena. Every SR crew lobbied long and hard to get on the schedule for Mildenhall. And London was not far away!

‘Frank Stampf, my RSO crewmate on the SR-71, and I were fortunate to get on the schedule for Mildenhall after only two trips to Okinawa. For both of us, it was like going home. Just before entering the SR-71 program, Frank had been stationed at RAF Alconbury for about four years as an RF-4 crew dog. And I had been stationed at RAF Lakenheath for a couple of years. As the “crow flies,” Alconbury is only 30 miles from Mildenhall, and Lakenheath is only 3 miles from Mildenhall. We were both anxious to visit the old flying buddies we had known and worked with in our careers before we became Habus.

‘On one occasion, I arranged to meet several of my F-111 friends at Lakenheath Officers’ Club for dinner. We met in the bar and had a few drinks (as a real, live, dyed-in-the-wool teetotaler, I assume I was drinking grapefruit juice or 7-Up). We shared numerous laughs while trying to outdo each other with tales of unequaled courage and great feats of airmanship. I’m sure our hands were getting a good workout—pilots gesticulate a lot!

‘At some point in the evening, the Aardvark (F-111 nickname) guys began to press me, in a good-natured way, for classified information about the SR-71. Probably the most frequently asked Blackbird question is: How high and how fast does it really fly? That question was being actively pursued that night at Lakenheath.

‘I need to back up about a year and a half to set the stage as to why they seemed intent on pushing that particular question. In most Air Force buildings, at least the flying squadron buildings I used to frequent, there were numerous locations where the base fire marshal had posted information regarding fire classifications and appropriate reactions upon discovering different types of fires. These posters were displayed in the restrooms, in the halls, near the duty desks, in the crew briefing rooms, and next to all of the fire extinguishers. I can’t remember all the specifics other than there was one fire classification identified as a category or type 3.

‘At some point in my application for assignment to the SR-71, I was requested to go to Beale for my “tryout” for the Blackbird program. The whole process, from departing Lakenheath until returning back to Lakenheath took about two weeks. During the visit to Beale, I heard and read a number of times that the unclassified speed of the SR-71 was listed as Mach 3-plus. A “3+” patch is displayed on flight suits worn by SR-71 squadron crewmembers.

Remembering Gil Bertelson, the SR-71 driver that saw three sunrises on one particular Blackbird mission

‘When I arrived back to Lakenheath, I was really pumped up and excited about the prospects of being selected to fly the SR-71. I didn’t want to forget the experiences I had at Beale or to lose sight of my goal. To help me remember and to keep my attention focused on what I wanted to do, I began adding a black grease pencil + sign to all of the 3s on the fire code posters. There were many added + signs around the base that the very diligent safety officer in 493rd Tactical Fighter Squadron actually called the base fire marshal to get information about this “new classification.” When he was told there was no such thing as a code 3+, he finally figured it out and started looking for me. I was given a “cease and desist” order and one by one, he began erasing my “unauthorized” + signs.

‘Now back to the “O” Club a year and a half later. My dinner partners remembered the fuss over the posters and figured now was an appropriate time and place to get the real scoop as to how high and how fast the Blackbird really did fly. They were curious as to what kind of speed that little + sign actually equated to.

‘I played along for a while, dragging out the inevitable answer of Mach 3-plus, which, when all was said and done, was all I really could tell them anyway. I finally got them leaning in toward me as we sat around the dinner table. I did a pretty good acting job as I began nervously looking around the room be sure no one else was eavesdropping on what they thought would be a classified conversation.

‘I have to momentarily divert again. A wonderful aviation poem was written the early days of powered flight. The author is John Gillespie Magee Jr. The poem is entitled “High Flight.” Some of you may remember this poem being recited by Orson Wells late in the evening by TV stations that were about to sign off the air for the night. Yes, there actually was a time when television didn’t operate 24 hours a day. As Orson Wells recited this poem with his marvellously deep and resonant voice, the final TV pictures for the day were that a T-38 dashing in and out of clouds and doing aileron rolls, etc. It was a combination of sight and sound that stirred the blood and emotions of everyone who had the slightest interest in airplanes and the wonders of flight. The poem is as follows:

“Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,

And danced the skies on laughter, silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or eagle flew.

And while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

‘Back to the “O” Club again. With the guys leaning in to hang on every word I was about to speak, I said something like, “You’ve got to promise not to tell a soul what I am going to tell you now. If you do, I’ll deny it till the day I die. I’m sure you know I shouldn’t be talking about this at all. You know how high the pile will be that they’ll stick me in if you tell anyone else.” As they gathered closer to make sure they didn’t miss anything, I said, “I can’t specific numbers, but I can give you a point of reference you can use to figure it out. You know the part in ‘High Flight’—where it talks about putting out your hand to touch the face of God?” Well,” I added, “when we’re at speed and altitude in the SR, we have to slow down and descend in order to do that.”

‘So, the word’s out. Feel free to share this information with anyone you’d care to tell. You can even use me as the source document. I’m retired now, so who cares?’

Photo by Lockheed Martin and U.S. Air Force

January 3, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

The US Navy A-4 pilot who fell asleep on a cross-country flight and was woken up by ATC

by Till Daisd January 1, 2024

written by Till Daisd

‘This one pilot had made the Yuma run in a TA-4J on Friday and was returning to Jacksonville on Sunday. Due to the time zone shift it’s likely that he was tired,’ David Tussey, former US Navy A-7E Corsair II pilot

According to a 2013 survey conducted by a pilots’ union, almost half of airline and commercial pilots fall asleep while piloting an aircraft. Out of the 56% of pilots who acknowledged sleeping, 29% said to the British Airline Pilots Association (Balpa) that they wake up to discover their fellow pilot dozing.

What about military pilots? What happens if a fighter jet pilot falls asleep while flying?

‘Here’s a sea story, or as they say, “this is a no-shitter”,’ David Tussey, former US Navy A-7E Corsair II pilot, says on Quora.

‘I had just arrived at NAS Cecil Field in 1974 to begin training in the A-7E. There was also an A-4 squadron stationed there, VA-45.

‘One weekend, an A-4 pilot (whose name I can’t definitively recall) was scheduled to make a “parts run” to MCAS Yuma where the A-7 RAG squadron had a detachment. Ready-to-replace parts were often loaded in an external store and ferried out to the Yuma detachment over the weekend, returning with a load of the replacement items. Fun stuff and good cross-country flying.

‘When you returned from MCAS Yuma to NAS Cecil Field in Jacksonville, FL, you almost always arrived at night due to the three-zone time difference. Often quite late at night, depending on when you depart the west. It’s nearly a full “across the US flight” from Arizona to Florida.

‘This one pilot had made the Yuma run in a TA-4J on Friday and was returning to Jacksonville on Sunday. There’s no evidence he was intoxicated; in fact, he was pretty straight-laced, but due to the time zone shift, it’s likely that he was at least tired.

‘The flight from Yuma to Jacksonville in a TA-4J requires two legs, with a refueling stop mid-way at, say, Tinker AFB in Oklahoma City or a similar military base located in the mid-west.

‘On the second leg of the flight that Sunday evening, with the autopilot flying the airplane due east and night falling, the pilot apparently fell asleep. ATC could not raise radio contact and started treating the aircraft as a lost radio incident as the aircraft crossed Louisiana and into northern Florida.

‘However, as the aircraft approached Jacksonville, it did not descend to land (weather was VFR). Instead, the aircraft continued to fly straight-and-level right over Jacksonville and out over the Atlantic Ocean.

‘Well, now ATC is in a panic—has the pilot become incapacitated? What’s gone wrong here?

‘FINALLY, about 50 miles out over the Atlantic, ATC awakened the pilot, who finally woke up and astonishingly acted like nothing had happened!! He turned the airplane around, and despite being way, way too low on fuel DID NOT declare an emergency!

‘He overflew two military airports on his way back to NAS Cecil, …and low and behold finally made it back to NAS Cecil Field, landed safely, taxied into the flight line. Shut down the aircraft. Filled out the paper work and went home… just another day at the office.

‘From when the pilot awakened until he landed at NAS Cecil Field was well over 150 miles, all with the low fuel light illuminated, and well over 30 minutes.

‘Scared the living bejeezus out of everyone.

‘When the details of this emerged, as you can imagine, the Squadron CO, Jax Approach, CO of NAS Cecil Field, were absolutely livid. The Squadron CO even went so far to dip the fuel tank (used a stick to measure the fuel remaining) and found there was 4 gallons left. FOUR GALLONS! What really fried the CO’s ass was that this pilot never declared an emergency despite the extreme low fuel state, and overflew two perfectly good military divert bases instead of landing immediately.

‘Not sure what happened after that. There was no damage done to Navy property, just some very poor judgment and headwork, followed by a major, major ass chewing.

‘But man, that was quite the story around Naval Aviation and particularly at NAS Cecil Field, always ending with a “he did what?”.’

Photo by U.S. Navy

January 1, 2024 0 comment

Cold War

The Blackbird’s nose has two small dents that prevent surface-to-air missiles from hitting the SR-71

by Till Daisd December 30, 2023

written by Till Daisd

Their placement was for the sophisticated ECM systems the SR-71 Blackbird got in the 1970s and 1980s but they are not dents

The SR-71 Blackbird collected intelligence in some of the most dangerous settings in the world during its service. For almost 24 years, the SR-71 held the record for being the fastest and highest-flying operational aircraft in the world. It could cover 100,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface per hour from 80,000 feet.

Because of the extreme temperatures, altitudes, and speeds at which it was designed to operate, the SR-71 was the first aircraft built with titanium, since the friction produced by air molecules passing onto its surface at Mach 2.6 would have melted an aluminum frame.

Its engineering was so advanced that new tools had to be created in order to assemble the SR-71.

Richard-Butch-Sheffield-and-Bob-Spencer — Richard Butch Sheffield and Bob Spencer

When the former SR-71 RSO Richard “Butch” Sheffield’s daughter would visit him at the Udvar Air and Space Smithsonian Museum in Virginia, he would point to the nose of the SR-71 Blackbird. Butch got his moniker from his 1960s hairdo. He would point to the dimples and say, “This is really important, but I can’t talk about it.”

He would smile. She could just tell him he wanted to tell her, but he didn’t.

When he and Bob Spencer intercepted the SA-5 Missile Signal as it was approaching the Russian border, it was one of the most significant missions they conducted in the SR-71. Receiving that signal was important to the SR-71’s defense. An SR-71 was never shot down; none ever got close to it. It was impossible due to defense and speed.

The nose is coming off! How a T-38 trainer helped a SR-71 that was losing her nose section in flight to RTB — SR-71 Nose Section

In his book “SR-71 The Complete Illustrated History of THE BLACKBIRD The World’s Highest, Fastest Plane,” former Blackbird pilot Col. Richard H. Graham claims that the SR-71’s nose section allowed the installation of a ballast, an advanced synthetic aperture radar system (ASARS) for radar imaging, or an optical bar camera (OBC) for photographic imaging while the faun-massive fasteners held the part of the nose in place.

However, her doubts remained unanswered.

What are those two little dents on the nose of the SR-71 Blackbird?

‘I’m assuming you’re talking about the two “dents” in the Chinese at the front part of the nose, one on each side? Those aren’t dents; those were put there on purpose for the more advanced ECM systems the Blackbird got in the ’70s and ‘80s,’ says Kelly Pedron, an aviation expert, on Quora.

‘There weren’t any good places to put the ECM receivers in the front of the aircraft, so those “dents” were put in the chine to allow the installation of ECM receivers there. If you’ll notice, the flat part of the “dent” is facing about 60 degrees forward in order to cover that quadrant of the airspace around the aircraft. Earlier models of the SR, including the A-12, were more concerned with attack radar signals from the rear, so front-mounted ECM receivers weren’t as necessary at the time. With the advent of more advanced Soviet SAM systems, like the S-200 and S-300, a forward warning receiver and jammer were required, hence the development of the so-called ECM “dents” in the nose.’

Pedron concludes;

‘So, yes, those were put there on purpose; nobody accidentally taxied an SR-71 into a solid object.’

Check out the Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Facebook page for further Blackbird photos and stories.

Photo by Linda Sheffield Miller and U.S. Air Force

December 30, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

B-52 pilot explains how landed his BUFF after two engines nearly tore off

by Till Daisd December 24, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘Fearing what two engines departing the plane might do to my aerodynamics, to say nothing of what would happen if they hit the tail on the way by, I shouted to the radar nav to give me the nearest runway,’ Jay Lacklen, former B-52 pilot

Jay Lacklen, a Lieutenant Colonel with 12,500 flight hours, retired from the Air Force Reserve in 2004. From 2005 until 2014, he served as a teacher for Air Force T-1 pilot training simulators at Columbus AFB in Mississippi. He grew up in Arlington, VA, and graduated from the University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill in 1969. He flew 330 hours in the C-7 Caribou, 2000 hours in the B-52 bomber, and 9,500 hours in the C-5 Galaxy transport, in addition to pilot training aircraft.

He flew in every significant combat mission, from the Vietnam War to the Iraq War. Lacklen, who is married and has four adult daughters and two granddaughters, also resides in northern Virginia.

Lacklen is also the author of three books: Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command, and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Three: Air Mobility Command. The story that follows is taken from the trilogy’s first book.

Engines Dancing on the Wing

In about the middle of the crew’s three-month course, on the Friday Thanksgiving weekend of 1977, I found the Grim Reaper seated in my seat. We had just started the post-air refueling navigation leg over the snow-covered Sierra Nevada mountain range. I had about an hour off since students both rode their seats for nav leg. I slipped the Playboy magazine out of my helmet bag and sat on the floor behind the jump seat, the only place I could stretch out a little.

I had just opened the centerfold, a lovely naked brunette seated on a chair she had rakishly turned backwards, when the copilot came up on the interphone. “Ah, IP, copilot!”

Funding for B-52 re-engine program will unlikely be approved before 2020

Oh, great, I thought, what problem could this rookie have now? I told him to go ahead.

“Ah, are there supposed to be holes in the engines?”

“Yes,” I told him, “one in the front, one in the back;’ irritated he was dragging me away from the brunette.

“No,” he said, his voice now quavering, “I mean holes in the side of the cowling.”

Uh, oh, I thought. I folded up Miss Playmate and went forward, grasping his headrest and leaning around him to look at the #5 engine, the first one visible out his window.

My vision replicated a movie cinematic technique, where I initially saw the entire engine, then zoomed into the midsection in horror. The engine had two overlapping basketball-sized holes where the N2 compressor turbine resided. Looking into the holes, I could see the remnants of that turbine twirling madly and unevenly, throwing sparks wildly as its broken blades struck the side casing. Suddenly, the firelight and bell alarm on this engine’s pylon mate, engine #6, came to life, the bell clanging and the light flashing ominously.

“You, out of the seat!” I shouted at the copilot as I grabbed my helmet and checklist and moved aside for him to clear the copilot position.

Impressive photos show B-52 bombers taking part in Operation Linebacker II, the Christmas bombings over North Vietnam which took place 45 years ago

When I landed heavily in the seat, I immediately pulled the fire handle on both #5 and #6 to shut off fuel and hydraulics at the firewall at the top of the pylon. I told the student pilot to fly the plane while I handled the emergency. I also strapped tightly into my ejection seat.

Mercifully, the firelight and bell went out on #6. Engine #5 was apparently so torn up that the disintegrating compressor had probably severed the fire loop warning system because it gave no warnings at all despite being in shambles. What I did not know until the next day was that shrapnel from the disintegrating compressor had blown into the fuselage as well as into engine #6. Fortunately, it didn’t hit anything vital, to include a wing fuel or me and my Playboy magazine. Had it hit a fuel tank, the plane might have exploded, and none of us would have known what happened.

Catastrophes are impossible to plan for completely. You can have an engine fire, and you know the Bold Print responses, yet you can’t anticipate surrounding events, complications, or your location when the shit hits fan. In this case, I had to think quickly of where we were and where we should go to land. In these days, prior to INS and GPS navigation systems, I did any self-respecting pilot would do—I shouted on interphone for the navigator to give me the nearest SAC base. A few seconds later, he would be at Mather AFB in Sacramento, CA, twenty minutes to the west.

I looked out at the two stricken engines on the pylon, and things have gotten worse. Engine #6, which I could not see except for the front intake, seemed largely intact, and the airstream passed through it cleanly. Engine #5, however, having torn itself apart, would not allow the airflow through unimpeded and now put heavy drag on the pylon. This uneven airflow through these pylon mates had now caused them to start wobbling, or Dutch rolling, on the pylon, a terrifying dance that threatened to tear the engines off the pylon. The Reaper had joined us in the cockpit.

Fearing what two engines departing the plane might do to my aerodynamics, to say nothing of what would happen if they hit the tail on the way by, I again shouted to the radar nav to give me the nearest runway. A moment later, he said it would be Lake Tahoe, but he didn’t recommend it because it was a short runway and at the bottom of a steep valley.

“Turning for Mather!” I said.

“Heading two-seven-zero,” he responded.

USAF completes investigation on why B-52H lost engine over North Dakota last year

Now I had to start talking and coordinating. I declared the emergency on the Oakland Center frequency and told him we had two engine failures, engine fire, and needed clearance direct to Mather with further clearance descend and maneuver as necessary while doing so. This busy Air Traffic Control (ATC) frequency went silent except for me and the controller, pilots in a couple of dozen other cockpits, civilian and military, listening intently. As I found over the course of several emergencies, ATC can save your ass in a pinch. This controller locked into the situation immediately and professionally. He gave me the Mather weather, altimeter setting, and landing runway, which fortunately would provide a straight-in approach. He then asked for status on the engines and I reported the instability. He switched me to another frequency to free up the main frequency for everyone else. I’m sure those couple of dozen other cockpits switched a backup radio to that frequency to follow the emergency, fascinated at the drama and thankful it was me, not them.

My other UHF radio still had the Castle command post frequency in. I switched there and gave them a brief summation of the situation, then returned to the ATC frequency to report how far out of Mather we were. He said he had notified Mather we were inbound.

[…] I could now see Mather far in the distance. I could also see the engine dance getting worse. I flicked my radio control back to Castle since they would be berserk to talk to me. I also feared the DCO, the chief of stan/eval, and an assorted multitude of other ops types would be leaning the controller’s shoulder to ask me fifty questions about my situation. I saw Mather drawing closer and decided I didn’t have time for that. This was going
to be over, one way or the other, in five minutes, and I didn’t want to spend it talking to them.

“Castle,” I said, “This is Panzer Eight-Zero. I’m on fire, and I’m headed for Mather; if you want any information, ask them.” Then I clicked the radio back to the Mather command post. They didn’t have any operations personnel on duty over the holiday and wouldn’t know what to ask. Just as well. I’m sure the Castle DCO was turning back flips to know what was happening, but I hoped he would understand.

Later, I got another interesting perspective on the whole scene from the instructor, EW seated behind me in the cockpit. When I leapt into the copilot’s seat and started shouting at everyone, the EW feared I might soon give the bailout order, so terse did the dialogue sound. He knew we were over the snow-covered Sierras, and he didn’t have his winter flight jacket on. He said he eyed it sitting on the floor next to him and wondered if he had time to unstrap from his parachute to put it on. He listened to the frantic discussion up front and decided he did not dare do so. He grabbed the jacket and pulled it through his chest strap, hoping it might land somewhere near him if he punched out. I had not thought I sounded that bad. I mean, I wasn’t screaming or anything, but perhaps my voice went up an octave or two. I had no plans to make the ejection call unless the engines came off the pylon and resulted in a loss of control, and they had not, as yet. I didn’t have my jacket on and never thought about it. It would have been a cold ride down to the snow for me if it had come to that.

Approach control switched me over to the tower to get landing permission. I now had to pull the engines to idle and deploy the airbrakes to slow down so I could extend the gear and flaps. Everything came down properly, we landed, and soon we were rolling out on the runway with an armada of fire trucks chasing us. We cleared at the end of the runway and let ourselves get surrounded by the trucks. After observing us briefly, two of the silver-suited, alien-looking firemen inspected the #5 and #6 engines and decided this emergency was over.

We taxied to parking and shut down the engines. I scrambled out of the plane and raced over to the wrecked engines.

I found an engine stand already up against #5 with a crusty old guy in civilian clothes wagging an unlit cigar from his mouth. I climbed up next to him and looked into the gaping hole in the side of the engine and the mess of metal within. The old guy muttered, “Five more minutes, and these engines would have come off the pylon.”

“Wow,” I said, “are you an (enlisted) engine guy?”

“No,” he growled. “I own this place!”

Oops! I don’t know if he was the wing commander, the maintenance commander, or the ops commander, but I took his word for it.

The Grim Reaper had again left my aircraft empty-handed. I tell my current pilot training students that the Reaper will visit their aircraft in the future, and I wish them luck when he does.

Photo by U.S. Air Force and Landmark9254 (Own work), via Wikipedia

December 24, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

An F-4G Wild Weasel dodged six SAMs during Operation Desert Storm

by Till Daisd December 22, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘I immediately selected AB, rolled the aircraft inverted, and pulled. All this while keeping the SA-2s on the beam. I was at 25,000 [feet] when I started for the deck and leveled at about 10,000,’ Jim Schreiner, former F-4G Wild Weasel pilot

Converted from the F-4E, the F-4G Wild Weasel was a dedicated SEAD variation for the US Air Force (USAF) equipped with updated radar and avionics. The F-4 G’s mission was to attack enemy air defenses, including surface-to-air missile (SAM) air defense radars.

The F-4G operated in combination with other F-4Gs or as a hunter aircraft, directing fighter-bombers, such as the F-16, against SAM sites while carrying AGM-88A/B/C High-Speed Anti-Radiation Missiles (HARM). The F-4G was flown by a pilot along with an Electronic Warfare Officer (EWO) to help communication, navigate, and coordinate attacks on the SAM sites. First taking to the air in 1975, the F-4G Wild Weasel was retired in 1996.

During Operation Desert Storm in 1991, F-4Gs from George AFB and Spangdahlem AB were stationed at Sheikh Isa AB in Bahrain. The F-4G effectively shielded strike packages from Iraqi air defenses during the conflict, and at the time it was the only aircraft in the USAF inventory outfitted for the SEAD (Suppression of Enemy Air Defenses) role.

Jim Schreiner, a former F-4G pilot from the 561st Tactical Fighter Squadron at George AFB who flew the aircraft during Desert Storm, and Brick Eisel, a former USAF officer, wrote a book called Magnum! The Wild Weasels in Desert Storm. It describes an exciting F-4G sortie flown to protect a B-52 strike package performing a bombing mission over Iraq.

On the night of Jan. 19, 1991, Schreiner and his backseater, Dan Sharp, were flying as the #2 of a four-ship, call sign Longhorn 31, flight led by Major Steve ‘Teach’ Jenni and Electronic Warfare Officer (EWO), Captain Mark ‘Gucci’ Buccigrossi. Schreiner was Longhorn 32. As Eisel explains, “The mission for the flight was to provide direct support for a cell of Boeing B-52 Stratofortresses dropping some fifty-four bombs weighing 750 lb each on the dug-in positions of one of Saddam’s vaunted Republican Guard armored divisions. The B-52, nicknamed since its Vietnam days as the ‘BUFF’, for Big Ugly Fat Fucker, had paid a fearsome toll on North Vietnamese SA-2s in the earlier conflict. Planners for Desert Storm wanted to ensure things went better for this fight. The Longhorn flight would go in ahead of the BUFFs and target and kill the SA-2s and any other SAM that had the altitude range to reach the bombers in their high 30,000-foot track. It was a high-priority do-or-die mission for the Weasels.”

Noteworthy, since their F-4G experienced a failure to its digital ARN-101 navigation system during the previous sortie, Schreiner and Sharp had to switch two spare aircraft, a procedure that delayed their and Jenni and Buccigrossi’s takeoff. Schreiner remembers: “3 & 4 were long gone, and lead, tired of waiting for us, decided to take off without us. I could tell he was pissed because, as he taxied by, he twirled his hand above his helmet, telling us to hurry up. At the time, he didn’t realize we were on our third jet. Sweating profusely by this time, I rapidly completed the preflight and got the jet running. Fortunately, everything worked, and we were out of the chocks in record time. I called the tower for take-off clearance and was told to wait for three aircraft to land. The last one was an emergency and might take the barrier and close the runway. Luckily, he didn’t and we were off, but twenty minutes late. I proceeded to the tanker as fast as the Phantom would go without using the afterburner – about 540 knots groundspeed. Not bad considering a 50-knot headwind and all the shit we were carrying [besides the HARM missiles the aircraft had three 1,000 gallons of external fuel tanks]. It was a little sporty at the tanker with him flying in and out of a cloud layer. The fact that I was a little nervous didn’t make it any easier. After taking a full load of fuel, we proceeded directly to the target area.”

Schreiner and Sharp made their target time and rejoined the flight. Then, as Eisel explains “At about 0207, Buccigrossi detected an SA-2 in search mode short of the BUFFs’ intended target. Needing to deal with this threat but not wanting to strip all Weasel coverage from the bombers, he directed Longhorn 31 and 32 to deal with this problem.”

Said Buccigrossi “We picked up the SA-2’s signal – first in search mode and then rapidly switched to targeting. We then pickled a HARM at it.”

Schreiner’s view of the event was: “At the TOT for the BUFFs, we saw many explosions on the ground as they salvoed. At the same time, we picked a ‘2 bar’ on the SA-2 from the APR-47 [‘2 bar’ was shorthand for saying the system had picked up strong, reliable indications of an SA-2D/E SAM, an improved version of the original SA-2]. It went from range unknown to range known to track indications to a firing indication in about as much time as it takes to read this sentence. Lead said he was working the signal so we didn’t shoot, although, in retrospect, we should have because it was the only chance we’d have.”

Buccigrossi continues his part of the story: “We were at medium altitude at around 350 knots. There was a cloud base around 1,800-2000 feet AGL [Above Ground Level]. We picked up an orange glow below the cloud deck at our nine o’clock. Popping through the undercast, we saw two SA-2s tracking towards us. Teach and I both saw them, so as he rolled the jet, I put out the chaff and hit the switches for the ECM pod. Both missiles continued towards our six o’clock but climbed while we descended fairly rapidly. I watched the missiles explode behind us.”

Eisel claimed that the Longhorn flight was attacked once more shortly after dodging the first set of SAMs. From their two o’clock position, Longhorn 31 observed a second pair of missiles arc toward them. Once more, they evaded the SAMs by trading airspace and altitude for distance from the warheads. The missiles were guided just behind them and detonated with no damage to their F-4G.

Buccigrossi continues: “Immediately after those two exploded, we saw a third set on our left side, so away we went again, down and around, to avoid these guys. The missiles couldn’t turn hard enough to stay with us, so for the third time in about ninety seconds, they tracked behind us and exploded. The good news was that in less than two minutes, we’d avoided six SAMs and made that site shoot his whole wad, so they wouldn’t be able to shoot again at the BUFFs until they’d reloaded and that would take them too long. The bad news was that with all our turning and burning, we’d dropped down into the AAA range. I looked down at our gauges and saw that we were below 10,000 feet and under 300 knots. I told Teach to climb or speed up and he said, ‘I’m working on it’.”

The incredible story of the F-4G Wild Weasel that dodged 6 SAMs in few seconds During Operation Desert Storm — An air-to-air left side view of two F-4G Wild Weasel aircraft at sunset during Operation Desert Shield.

From Schreiner’s cockpit: “I looked in the direction of the launch indication on the scope and saw a sight I’d never hoped to see. SA-2 missiles were headed towards us! I immediately selected AB [afterburner], rolled the aircraft inverted, and pulled. All this while keeping the SA-2s on the beam. I was at 25,000 [feet] when I started for the deck and leveled at about 10,000. It was a standard maneuver we’d practiced in training but for safety reasons weren’t allowed to try at night – amazing how physics and the airplane work the same at night as during the day. As I did this, I told Dan to hit the chaff and ECM pod. Apparently, the combination of all three did the trick because one by one, I watched them arc harmlessly away and self-destruct at the end of their life. After we avoided the SAMs, I rolled level and saw a blue glow outside. Our -47 wasn’t showing any threats, so I couldn’t figure out what the glow was. Then I realized I was still in the afterburner, and the glow was the flames from my engines. What a perfect advertisement for our position! So I pulled the throttles back and started climbing so we could work that site again.”

Because they were only carrying one tank, Longhorn 31 ran out of gas quickly after using a lot to avoid the six SAMs. They RTB’d (returned to base), flying due south into Saudi Arabia where they landed at a base, got gas, and flew back to Sheikh Isa.

Schreiner and Sharp, having taken the spare configured with three tanks, had more gas and stayed in the area, even after the B-52s departed, trying to nail the SA-2 site that had gotten their attention so dramatically. They landed at Sheikh Isa at around 0315.

Major Steve Jenny and Captain Mark Buccigrossi received the Silver Star, the third-highest award in the US military, for their valiant efforts in defending the B-52s and dodging the six SA-2s in a short time.

Photo by U.S. Air Force

December 22, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

No cockpit requires as much focus as a Habu’s

by Till Daisd December 22, 2023

written by Till Daisd

“The SR-71 Blackbird knew when your eyes started to wander to the spectacle of earth from 85,000 feet; that’s when something would go wrong,” Curt Mason, owner of Project Habu website

The SR-71 Blackbird collected intelligence in some of the most dangerous environments in the world during its service. For almost 24 years, the SR-71 held the record for being the fastest and highest-flying operational aircraft in the world. It could cover 100,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface per hour from 80,000 feet.

Because of the severe temperatures, altitudes, and speeds at which it was designed to operate, the SR-71 became the first aircraft built entirely of titanium, since the friction generated by air molecules passing on its surface at Mach 2.6 would have melted an aluminum frame. Its engineering was so advanced that new tools had to be created in order to build the SR-71.

The SR-71’s mission was to take pictures and detect electronic surveillance using its sensors to safely navigate near the enemy’s boundary. All of that and more were managed by the Reconnaissance Systems Officer (RSO).

Due to the Blackbird’s exceptional capabilities, “No cockpit demands as much intense focus as an SR-71 Blackbird’s, and in frustrating irony, no cockpit offers a better view,” says Curt Mason, owner of the Project Habu website who kindly shared the unique photos in this post with us.

“There was no time to look out the window. The plane knew when your eyes started to wander to the spectacle of earth from 85,000 feet; that’s when something would go wrong. There was much to monitor. The many “steam gauge” instruments reflect a bygone era, giving the pilot information ranging from heading to compressor inlet temperature, each dial representing a critically important system.

“Even though this cockpit was operated through 2,854 flight hours, it looks brand new. That’s because it was only ever flown using the gloved hands of a crew member wearing the essential high-altitude pressure suit. Every control is large enough to be adjusted with those bulky pressure suit gloves.

“You sit atop your throne, the SR-1 ejection seat, which carries a rare 100% success rate. To operate the circuit breakers, you must reach beside and behind your seat, outside your field of view, through the pressure suit helmet. To make sure you actuate the correct breaker, you count down the rows and columns by feel.”

Mason concludes;

“March Field Air Museum in Riverside, California, is kind enough to display SR-71A 17975 with her cockpit open. This gives us a rare peek inside the world of the Blackbird, allowing us to look inside something that was formerly top secret and reserved only for a privileged few crew members. These photos were captured using a camera extended into the cockpit via monopod. At no point did I or my equipment come in contact with the artifact.”

Photo by Curt Mason / Project Habu and U.S. Air Force

Check out Habubrats and Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Facebook pages for further Blackbird photos and stories.

December 22, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

When a F-4 pilot had diarrhea on board his Phantom II over North Vietnam

by Till Daisd December 20, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘When he later returned to the ship after his mission, he spent a long time cleaning his cockpit seat after he had abandoned his flight suit and showered, of course,’ John Chesire, former US Navy F-4 Phantom II pilot

A common and serious medical condition that afflicted numerous U.S. troops in Vietnam was diarrhea. Jet jockeys were less likely to get it than helicopter pilots and others flying props off mainland airbases, especially those operating out of Thailand or carriers who only picked it up during in-country R&R.

If you had it, you wouldn’t laugh about it, and the people they served with were more understanding.

What is it like to have diarrhea in the cockpit as a fighter pilot?

John Chesire, former US Navy F-4 Phantom II pilot, recalls on Quora;

‘TINS (This is no s**T)

‘A good friend of mine and a highly decorated pilot launched in an F-4 for a strike mission over North Vietnam. I was down in the ship’s CIC listening to the strike radio. Shortly after launch, my friend contacted the ship, stating he had to abort the mission and go land at Da Nang. The ship wanted to know the nature of his ‘emergency’ to which he replied as “personal.” Eventually, he was granted permission to abort his mission and proceed to Da Nang.

‘Then shortly thereafter, he called the ship again. He said he was not now going to Da Nang. It was “too late.” He was now continuing on his mission. When he later returned to the ship after his mission, he spent a long time cleaning his cockpit seat, after he had abandoned his flight suit and showered of course.’

Chesire concludes;

‘Never happened to me, but came close once or twice. Stuff happens.’

Photo by U.S. Navy

December 20, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

Soviet Tu-16 Badger bomber buzzing the USS Essex aircraft carrier before crashing into the sea

by Till Daisd December 19, 2023

written by Till Daisd

After making four passes over the US Navy aircraft carrier USS Essex, a wing of the Tu-16 Badger clipped the sea on the final pass, resulting in a crash that left no survivors

Colonel Andrey Pliyev’s Soviet Air Force Tu-16 Badger-F buzzed the US Navy aircraft carrier USS Essex (CV-9) in the Norwegian Sea on May 25, 1968. After four passes, a wing of the Tu-16 clipped the sea, causing it to crash without any survivors. Parts of three bodies were recovered by the US.

According to the video in this article, the bomber appears to vanish into the sunny haze of the horizon following the initial low flyby, but it later reappears. And as it does so, it seems to slow down as it soars further lower. Because it is flying so slowly and low, it seems to be nearly parallel to the carrier’s deck as it passes.

At the 27-second mark, the video pauses, maybe to indicate the point where something went wrong. The Tu-16 banks up and vanishes momentarily once more into the haze but in the opposite direction. It comes back into view, flying perpendicular to the aircraft carrier on the horizon this time. The video then cuts to show the sailors and airmen on the carrier’s deck, obviously focused on what’s happening at sea. A column of heavy, dark smoke is visible in the distance.

A second Tu-16 can be seen flying around at the end, presumably trying to figure out what happened to the other plane.

Former USS Essex crew member Stephen Garbarini was present at the accident. He recalls: ‘I was there on the flight deck. I was an aircraft electrician in VS 34. I remember him coming over the flight deck from starboard to port, flying a couple hundred yards, and appeared to have stalled, hitting his starboard wing tip, cartwheeling, and exploding. We were launching planes and had helos up as plane guards; they went right over to the crash site to see if they could help to no avail.’

Another ex-USS Essex crew member recalls: ‘I was there and watched the entire thing while working on the flight deck. I was a helicopter mechanic in HS-9 at the time. When it overflew the flight deck, you could feel the heat and smell at jet exhaust. After the flight deck overfly (starboard to port), he continued to fly away from the ship at low level. He gained a little altitude and started to make a left turn, leveled back out, lost altitude, and just when it looked like he was going to make a controlled ditching his left wing dipped and hit the water, and then he cartwheeled in a ball of flame.. Our helicopters were in the air already and made a beeline for the crash, hovered in the smoke but no one survived.’

Footage from The National Archives in Washington.

December 19, 2023 0 comment

Cold War

The F-4 pilot that outran an F/A-18 Hornet and zoomed in at 82,125 feet per minute

by Till Daisd December 18, 2023

written by Till Daisd

‘When the Hornet maxed out at Mach 1.6 (didn’t make its max), I was approaching Mach 2 and closing rapidly,’ Travis Brannon former F-4 Phantom II pilot with the US Navy

To replace the F-4 Phantom II and A-7 Corsair II, the US Navy created a multi-mission aircraft after the Vietnam War that could do air-to-ground and air-to-air missions. The lightweight craft chosen was the YF-17 because of its adaptability to aircraft carrier operations. In collaboration with Northrop, McDonnell Douglas built the F/A-18 Hornet strike aircraft. The US Marines and US Navy, respectively, were the recipients of the initial aircraft. USS Constellation (CV-64) received the first Hornets to be deployed in 1985.

Positive fleet reports emerged early on, showing that the Hornet was incredibly dependable—a significant improvement over its F-4 predecessor.

However, the legendary Phantom II, with its top speeds exceeding twice the speed of sound, was still faster than the then-new Hornet, as Travis Brannon, a former F-4 pilot with the US Navy, recalls on Quora.

‘When the F/A-18 was being developed at Pax River, Maryland, every flight had a plane with them whose mission was “safety chase”, in case there was an issue with the Hornet and support and/or SAR were needed.

‘I was assigned a safety chase in an F-4 because the mission was to verify that the Hornet could go from Mach 0.9 to its max speed of Mach 1.8 in the amount of time McDonnell Douglas had promised.

‘We started at 50, 000 feet at Mach 0.9, and on signal, both of us went to full afterburner. The Hornet was able to initially out-accelerate me and pull ahead by about a quarter of a mile. However, the Phantom was one of those planes where it seemed the faster it went, the faster it wanted to go, and the Hornet was not.

‘When the Hornet maxed out at Mach 1.6 (didn’t make its max), I was approaching Mach 2 and closing rapidly. Just as I was about to even with him, the Hornet pilot, who was responsible for navigating, started a hard left turn without warning.

‘A fighter pilot, when faced with an overshoot, instinctively pulls his nose up to trade airspeed for altitude and decrease the amount of overshoot, so I did that as I started my turn to the left with him. At about 45 degrees nose-high, I realized that since I was nearly going Mach 2, my vertical speed was Mach 1.4. I looked at my altimeter, and the big needle was actually spinning. I was climbing at 82,125 feet per minute!

‘I rolled inverted to stop my climb at 62,500 feet, but not before I noticed I could now see two horizons, both remarkably curved. One was the normal one we all see at the beach: blue-green ocean and robin-egg blue, but the second one was robin-egg blue below, and the most spectacular, dark, iridescent blue of space. So lucky to have seen it!’

Brannon concludes:

‘I would have had to shut the engines down at 75,000 feet to prevent them from overheating. That would have caused me to lose my cockpit pressure and since I was not in a pressure suit, I have blown up like a toad, instant pulmonary edema, and probably death.’

Photo by U.S. Navy

December 18, 2023 0 comment

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