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The first stealth plane

The SR-71, commonly referred to as the “Blackbird,” was a strategic reconnaissance aircraft capable of flying at speeds of Mach 3+, developed from the Lockheed A-12 and YF-12A models. The inaugural flight of an SR-71 occurred on December 22, 1964, and the first operational SR-71 was delivered to the 4200th (later renamed the 9th) Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base in California in January 1966.

It was capable of Mach 3 and still holds the record for the fastest “air-breathing manned aircraft” in the world. Its speed and ability to operate at high altitudes served as a defensive feature; when attacked by surface-to-air missiles, the pilot needed only to accelerate to avoid being struck.

No SR-71 has ever been lost or damaged because of hostile actions. The aircraft was exceptionally hard for hostile radars to detect. Employing early stealth technology, the wings, tail, and fuselage of the SR-71 were covered in paint that contained iron ferrites, allowing it to absorb radar energy instead of reflecting it back to the source. As a result, the SR-71 was the first plane designed with stealth capabilities. When flying at cruising speeds and altitudes, the radar cross-section of the SR-71 was comparable to that of a J-3 Piper Cub.

The intercept problem

As told by SR-71 Blackbird pilot Richard H. Graham in his book SR-71: The Complete Illustrated History of the Blackbird, The World’s Highest, Fastest Plane, even if the SR-71 could be found on radar, its detection was so late that there was simply not enough time for a SAM to compute the lead for a successful kill.

The plane also carried sophisticated electronic countermeasures (ECM) equipment to electronically jam and deny the enemy our range and bearing. Consequently, the SR-71’s ECM was continually updated to counter the latest enemy electronic order of battle (EOB). The EOB for flying in Europe was considerably different than flying in the Pacific region. The RSO could control the jammers manually or let them run in automatic mode to electronically jam a specific threat frequency.

On Sep. 6, 1976, Soviet pilot Lt. Viktor Belenko defected to Japan in a MiG-25. Subsequently, he wrote a book titled MiG Pilot in which he described the intercept problem.

‘American reconnaissance planes, SR-71s, were prowling off` the coast, staying outside Soviet airspace by photographing terrain hundreds of miles inland with side-angle cameras. They taunted and toyed with the MiG-25s sent up to intercept them, scooting up to altitudes the Soviet planes could not reach and circling leisurely above them or dashing off at speeds the Russians could not match.

Why MiG-25 interceptors couldn’t catch SR-71 Blackbird spy planes

‘[The Soviets] had a master plan to intercept an SR-71 by positioning a MiG-25 in front of it and one below it, and when the SR-71 passed, they would fire missiles. But it never occurred. Soviet computers were very primitive, and there is no way that mission can be accomplished.

‘First of all, the SR-71 flies too high and too fast. The MiG-25 cannot reach it or catch it. Secondly… the missiles are useless above 27,000 meters [88,000 feet] and as you know, the SR-71 cruises much higher.’

Belenko concludes;

‘But even if we could reach it, our missiles lack the velocity to overtake the SR-71 if they are fired in a tail chase. And if they are fired head-on, the guidance systems cannot adjust quickly enough to the high closing speed.’

Another reason Belenko’s missiles wouldn’t work against the SR-71 is that most air-to-air missiles are optimized to maneuver in the thicker air below around 30,000 feet in order to shoot down an enemy plane. Firing at the SR-71, cruising at 75,000 feet, the air is so thin that any maneuvering capability of the missile is practically nonexistent.

Top SR-71 Blackbird photo: Stuart Freer

Photo by NASA, U.S. Navy, Alex Beltyukov and Dmitriy Pichugin via Wikipedia

The Blackbird

Unofficially referred to as the “Blackbird,” the SR-71 was a long-range, Mach 3+ strategic reconnaissance aircraft that was developed from the Lockheed A-12 and YF-12A.

Dec. 22, 1964, saw the first SR-71 flight, and in January 1966, the 4200th (later 9th) Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base, California, received the first SR-71 to enter service.

It was capable of Mach 3 and still holds the record for the fastest “air-breathing manned aircraft” in the world. Its speed and ability to operate at high altitudes served as a defensive feature; when attacked by surface-to-air missiles, the pilot needed only to accelerate to avoid being struck. Only 32 SR-71s were operated during its 34-year service history, and though 12 were destroyed in accidents, none were lost to enemy attack.

RAF Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp

In 1981, a group of women, upset by the choice to position cruise missiles (guided nuclear missiles) in the UK, coordinated a protest march from Cardiff, Wales, to RAF Greenham Common located near Newbury in Berkshire. At this site, they established what came to be known as the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp.

As reported by the Imperial War Museum, from 1981 to 1983, the protesters sought to disrupt construction activities at the base. Their tactics involved blocking access to the base and cutting down parts of the fence. In December 1982, over 30,000 women came together at Greenham to form a human chain around the base during the ‘Embrace the Base’ event.

The International Air Tattoo (IAT) 1983 was also held at RAF Greenham Common. BC Thomas, an SR-71 pilot, shared the video in this post on his YouTube channel. The footage features a Blackbird, piloted by Thomas with John G. Morgan serving as RSO, as it arrives at Greenham Common for the 1983 International Air Tattoo.

Thomas recalls in the video description;

‘I was the pilot in this video but did not fly the SR-71 out of RAF Greenham Common. I was the “mobile control” officer when the aircraft departed, and the pilot was Maj. Jim Jiggens, a USAF Thunderbird pilot and formally a US Army helicopter combat pilot in Vietnam.

Protest women throw paint on SR-71

‘On the evening of the air show featured in this video, women, who were protesting President Reagan’s decision to station intermediate nuclear missiles in England, broke into the security cordon around the air show aircraft and threw paint on several, including this SR-71.

‘Owing to the unique metals associated with the SR-71, the removal of the paint required special maintenance procedures to assure that no “hot spot” would develop on subsequent flights. It was quite a hassle, and we were not amused over this incident. Jim and I planned a farewell departure for the protesters who were encamped in a squalor of tents just outside the main gate.

SR-71 buzzes RAF Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp

‘Jim obtained clearance for a “closed pattern” and turned to a downwind leg, descended to about 50 feet above the ground, and flew directly over the protestors’ encampment. It was early and probably most were asleep, but not for long. Jim was flying about 250 knots and selected afterburner in both engines as he was approaching the tents. As the SR-71 accelerated to 350-400 knots, he pulled up and focused the plume (and noise) directly on the protesters. It was a magnificent sight.’

Thomas concludes;

‘As we were leaving the base immediately after Jim’s departure, the gate guard (British) said to me, “I say, that was a jolly good show, but next time, please warn me before you do it.” I also had the honor to prefer charges against the women, but the British government later declined to prosecute.’

In 1987, US President Ronald Reagan and Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev signed the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, which paved the way for the removal of cruise missiles from Greenham.

Today Greenham no longer belongs to the military. Part of it is a business park; the rest is common land.

Check out Habubrats SR-71‘s Twitter profile, SR71Habubrats‘s Instagram profile and Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats‘s Facebook page for further Blackbird photos and stories.

Photo by Mike Freer – Touchdown-aviation via Wikipedia

The SR-71 Blackbird at RAF Mildenhall

The Lockheed A-12 and YF-12A aircraft served as the basis for the development of the SR-71, also referred to as the “Blackbird” or long-range, sophisticated strategic reconnaissance aircraft. The 4200th (later 9th) Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base, California, received the first SR-71 to begin service in January 1966, but the first SR-71 flight occurred on December 22, 1964.

In September 1974, an SR-71 Blackbird made its international debut at the Farnborough Air Show, landing at RAF Mildenhall for the first time. To prepare for its flight back to the United States, it flew into Mildenhall. Setting a world speed record from London to Los Angeles was the goal that was set by Captain “Buck” Adams and RSO Maj. Bill Machoreck, who completed the 5,645-mile journey in 3 hours and 47 minutes.

On Mar. 31, 1979, Detachment 4 (Det 4) of the 9th SRW was established at Mildenhall. As a result, Habu traditions were carried over to Det 4. 

Habu tradition introduced to Soviet Su-27 pilots

One Habu tradition was once introduced to old rivals—Soviet MiG pilots! SR pilot Capt. Steve “Griz” Grzebiniak tells his story in Richard H. Graham’s book SR-71 Revealed The Inside Story.

‘Jim [ Maj. Jim Greenwood, his RSO] and I were TDY to Det in June 4 in June of 1989. The Det was tasked to send an SR-71 to the Paris Air Show. Lieutenant Colonel Tom Henichek was the Det 4 Commander at the time and became the Air Show deployment commander.

‘We flew a brief arrival show, landing in showery weather at Le Bourget airport for four days of static display. The big attraction at the `89 Paris Show was to be the unveiling of the Soviet SU-27 Flanker, for the first time on Western soil. The SU-27 was an impressive example of the cutting edge of Eastern Bloc air superiority. It was a large fighter, with massive engines and silenced the crowds daily with its aerial demonstration. Victor Pugachev, the head test pilot for Sukhoi aircraft in the Soviet Union, and the inventor of the unbelievable “Cobra Maneuver” in which the fighter would make a slow-speed, high-angle pass at low altitude, then snatch its nose back beyond the vertical, an recover with AB’s blazing, was there, along with an elite cadre of other Soviet pilots.

Introducing Victor Pugachev to the Blackbird

‘The Soviets were attracting a lot of attention and press coverage, as was anticipated. However, it seemed that a 25-year-old aircraft on display only a few hundred yards away was drawing an even bigger crowd each day. The air buzzed with tension each time Jim, myself, or Tom Henichek would approach the Soviet aircraft displays.  We were finally granted a personal tour of the SU-27, and we reciprocated with an “up-close and personal introduction to our HABU.” The Soviets were extremely interested in the tour Jim gave, and so was the foreign press. It seemed like every time the Soviet pilots got near us, there were cameras and microphones bristling everywhere. This seemed to unnerve the Eastern visitors, and all statements were made by the very flamboyant and eloquent-speaking Victor Pugachev. He was obviously schooled in what we would call, “politically correct speech.”

‘Jim and I decided we had to meet these pilots in a less formal manner. After all, they were flying some of the same aircraft, and indeed could have been the same pilots who regularly attempted high-altitude intercepts against us in the Barents Sea! The day prior to our departure, after the final aerial demonstration of the afternoon, a note was passed to one of the Russian pilots reading, “Meet us at the base of the tower for a drink—the US pilots.”

‘We avoided being seen in numbers together. We arranged to meet at the Hughes Aircraft chalet. No press was informed, in fact not even Hughes knew why we requested the use of their conference room. We all took round-about paths to the Hughes chalet to avoid being intercepted by the press.

The “Secret” Party SR-71 Blackbird Crews had with Victor Pugachev and other Soviet Su-27 Pilots

‘There was no prior coordination between us and the Soviets, but it became apparent that they had the right idea from the beginning. One of our resourceful maintenance supervisors, Robby Butterfield, obtained two bottles of Cuervo Tequila from a source at the US Embassy. Once behind closed doors, we all introduced ourselves and told our Soviet guests that we invited them for a traditional HABU flyer’s drink—a “Tequila Hooker” [also known as “Tequila Shooters”]! To our surprise, one of the Soviets produced two bottles of Russian vodka. They were prepared! We toasted our guests, showing them the proper “Tequila Hooker” technique, and they did the same for us with their native beverage.

‘They were acting very proper and cordial as Victor announced that they were ready to receive the “press” now. I told him there was, “no press, no cameras, no recorders, nobody knows we’re here, Vic!” At that announcement, the room erupted with revelry! Victor was no longer the “mouthpiece” for the group. Everyone was eager to learn more about their “comrades” from across the ocean. Victor said to me,

‘Steve, the next time you are spying on us in the Barents Sea, please come up on my radio frequency so we can say hello.” I jokingly said, “Vic, I’ll be glad to do that, but if my voice sounds clear, it’s not because we are very near your border in the Barents Sea, I’m really far away on a training mission, but our radios are very powerful.” We all had a good laugh, realizing that in a week, we would indeed be over the Barents, and we would see those telltale contrails of Soviet interceptors, hopelessly fluttering out of airspeed and ideas, far below us.

GLASTNOST, Paris, ’89

‘The spontaneous party lasted about an hour. We signed our bottle of Tequila, and our guests signed an unopened bottle of vodka, and we exchanged them as gifts. The following day, Jim and I departed Le Bouget with a series of afterburner passes. Our departure was to be the last aerial demonstration that day, immediately following the Soviets’ regular daily flying demo. All Soviet flying demos were mysteriously canceled that day. Could it have been the Tequila, or did they all want to be in place to see the HABU thunder past the crowd and disappear out of sight?

After returning to the Det, we placed the signed bottle of Russian vodka in a small glass case with a simple plaque reading, `GLASTNOST, Paris, ’89.’

Photo by  Alchetron and Brian Shul / U.S. Air Force

The Blackbird

The Lockheed A-12 and YF-12A aircraft served as starting points for the development of the SR-71, also referred to as the “Blackbird” or long-range, advanced strategic reconnaissance aircraft. The 4200th (later 9th) Strategic Reconnaissance Wing at Beale Air Force Base, California, received the first SR-71 to begin service in January 1966 but the first SR-71 flight occurred on December 22, 1964. On January 26, 1990, the U.S. Air Force retired its SR-71 fleet.

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.

This article features the story of the engine fire that plagued Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird #975 during the sortie flown on Mar. 20, 1982, by Gil Bertelson and RSO Frank Stampf as written by Bertelson himself.

SR-71 Engine Fire

One of the more exciting and memorable missions we flew started out much like any other flight. We made a normal (typically spectacular) takeoff at Kadena at about 10:00 o’clock one sunny morning. We were ultimately heading for the Korean demilitarized zone that day, to be followed by a pass between China and Taiwan. We’d flown this particular mission track, or ones very similar to it, on numerous occasions. The mission called for an inflight refueling about fifteen minutes after takeoff. As we approached 25,000 feet, about two minutes after liftoff, I reached for the throttles to pull them out of afterburner. Just as my left hand touched the throttles, a red LEFT ENGINE FIRE WARNING light came on.

The procedure was one of those BOLD FACE check list items like I mentioned earlier. The first step was “THROTTLE: EFFECTED ENGINE IDLE”. The checklist continued, “IF FIRE WARNING LIGHT REMAINS ILLUMINATED: THROTTLE, AFFECTED ENGINE OFF.” I quickly performed those two steps and then told Frank what was happening. The remainder of the fire warning checklist consisted of steps that he’d read to me over the intercom. I confirmed with him as I completed each of those following checklist items.

The engine fire checklist was one of the longer procedures we had to deal with. Obviously, I’d made an immediate turn to head back to Kadena. Frankie got on the radio and declared an emergency with Kadena approach control. Declaring the emergency meant that we now had priority over any and all other airplanes in the vicinity.

The many checklist steps for an SR-71 Engine Fire

We continued to work through the many remaining checklist steps. One of those steps was that we were to “dump” any excess fuel in order to lighten the weight of the aircraft prior to landing. The airplane handles better with less weight aboard, and when you’re down to one engine that’s a good thing. The lighter weight also shortens the roll-out distance after landing and, should there be a fire after landing, there’s less fuel to feed the fire.

The left engine hydraulic system provided the power source for the normal landing gear extension system. Since the left engine was shut down, we’d have to rely on the “alternate gear extension” system to lower the landing gear. The alternate method called for me to grab hold of a yellow and black striped handle on the instrument panel just in front of, and basically between, my knees.

As Frank read the checklist step—“Alternate gear handle – pull”—I reached down and pulled on the handle that was attached to a cable. It just didn’t feel quite right as I pulled on it. I knew how it was supposed to feel because I had previously performed this procedure on maintenance test flights. I was supposed to feel three distinct “clicks” (for lack of a better word) as each of the three landing gear doors was unlocked and then came down due to gravity. Then the three landing gears themselves would follow the doors, again extending due to gravity.

Ejecting over the South China Sea

I hadn’t felt the three clicks, I quickly remembered a statement in the flight manual, known as “the dash one” (the numeric assigned to the aircrew member’s flight manual) that indicated that it might require 65 lbs. of force to activate the unlock system. I decided I hadn’t pulled hard enough, I gave it another tug, and the handle broke off in my hand. The handle was supposed to be attached to a cable that, when pulled, would initiate the emergency unlock, allowing everything to work. As the handle and the cable parted company, the cable then “ratcheted” back into the instrument panel and disappeared.

I now had an interesting dilemma. There I am, holding onto the handle that was supposed to extend the landing gear. The runway is now about eight to ten miles in front of us. We have little fuel left, and we have no landing gear. The “dash one” stated that an SR-71 should never be landed gear up. That’s a brilliant directive. I hope I don’t ever forget that one. That specific instruction, however, was directed exactly for a situation like Frankie and I were now facing.

Due to the composition of the materials that the airplane is made of, 90% titanium alloy, there is significant fire danger if a landing on the belly of the aircraft is attempted. In a no landing gear situation the recommendation is to try to find the best place possible and then eject from the airplane. In our circumstance, ejecting over the South China Sea, hopefully near a friendly boat, would likely be our best alternative.

Single-engine inflight refueling

When I think back on the circumstances, it’s amazing how things seemed to slow down at this point. As I was thinking about where to put the handle (there are no drawers or the like, and it wouldn’t be smart to put it on the floor where it might interfere with the flight control stick) a number of things came into focus. First, we need to “scramble” the ground alert tanker and get it airborne immediately (there was always one of those available and ready to takeoff anytime a Blackbird was airborne). Then we’re going to have to do a low altitude, single-engine inflight refueling which, as far as I know, is something no one had ever accomplished, practiced or anticipated.

That would get us some fuel which would keep us airborne for a while longer. Then we’d make a HF (high frequency) radio call back to California and get some Lockheed engineers out of bed. Those guys will recommend some things for us to try in an attempt to get the landing gear down. Given our particular circumstances, their well-intended suggestions probably wouldn’t work and at the end of the day; we’d need to try to find that friendly boat, and hopefully they’d be able to pick us up shortly after we ejected, and before we sank.

Circuit breakers reset

While all that was going through my mind I just instinctively reached down and back behind me (sort of under and behind my left arm) and reset a couple of circuit breakers (there were about seventy of them on that particular panel) that had been pulled as part of the checklist steps.

Then, for lack of anything better to do at that time, I cycled the normal landing gear handle to the down position. The particular c/b’s I’d pulled and had now reset had to do with positioning hydraulic solenoids into a position that would allow the alternate gear extension system to do its thing. By resetting the circuit breakers, the solenoids were returned to their original positions. I was just about ready to tell Frankie what I’d been thinking we needed to do when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the green light for the left main landing gear illuminate, followed by a light for the nose gear and then the right main landing gear light.

We couldn’t be sure the landing gears were in the down and locked position, but at least it appeared they were down. The SR-71 guy in the tower looked us over with binoculars and told us he could see three landing gears in the down position. That was a quantum leap from where we’d been just a moment before.

A significant fire in the SR-71 left engine

The landing gears came down because even though the left engine was shut down, airflow through that engine was still causing the fan blades to slowly rotate—referred to as “wind milling” RPM. There happened to be just enough of the windmilling RPM to push sufficient hydraulic pressure through the lines to slowly activate the landing gear system.

It was pretty uneventful after that. I made my usual perfect landing, then stopped straight ahead on the runway and waited until the maintenance folks had installed the safety pins that would prevent any possibility of the landing gear collapsing during taxi. We then taxied to the hanger, turned the airplane over to maintenance, and our excitement for the day came to a successful ending.

It turns out that we’d actually experienced a significant fire in the left engine. Occasionally, a fire warning light might come on due to a wiring or sensing malfunction. That wasn’t the case this time. The fire was caused by a break in a 5500-psi fuel line near the afterburner. By the time we taxied to the hangar, maintenance was already pointing to a significant hole that had been burned in the side of the aircraft. In order to repair the airplane a whole new wing section had to be flown in from California. We were told that the damage amounted to more than $2 million.

Entire Blackbird fleet inspected

Because of the failure of our emergency landing gear handle and cable, the entire Blackbird fleet was inspected to look for a pending failure of that system in other airplanes. Several other aircraft had seriously frayed cables and could have experienced a failure under circumstances similar to ours.

The cause: For the pilots, getting in and out of the airplane was not a graceful maneuver. As we entered and exited the cockpit it was an easy and inadvertent thing to bump the emergency extension handle with our boots. Over time, with enough boots bumping the handle, one of the twenty or so strands of the cable could eventually break. After another period of time, another strand could break. And so on until the cable itself might fail. The odds, though, of another aircrew experiencing all of the same things that happened to us that day were pretty small.

The fix: Maintenance manufactured a bracket that covered the handle so it would no longer receive direct hits from the bumping of pilots’ boots as they entered and exited the aircraft. The cost of the manufactured part was about $5.

Check out Habubrats SR-71‘s Twitter profile, SR71Habubrats‘s Instagram profile, and Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats‘s Facebook page for further Blackbird photos and stories.

Photo by U.S. Air Force