Great SR-71 story
- Thread starter House of Wax
- Start date
Ronkh
Wax Waster
Perfect !!!!
Thanks for posting.
Thanks for posting.
rlmccarty2000
Active member
Very nice.
House of Wax
Active member
As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question I`m most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend. It`s an interesting question, given the aircraft`s proclivity for speed, but there really isn`t one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, we never let it run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual "high" speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order. Let`s just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn`t previously seen.
So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, "What was the slowest you ever flew in the Blackbird?" This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following.
I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England, with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 flypast. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it. After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea, we proceeded to find the small airfield.
Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from the 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field—yet, there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field.
Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the flypast. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us, but in the overcast and haze, I couldn`t see it. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point, we weren`t really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was), the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.
Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn`t say a word for those next 14 minutes. After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 flypast he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet`s hats were blown off and the sight of the planform of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of "breathtaking" very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach.
As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there—we hadn`t spoken a word since "the pass." Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots. What did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred fifty-two." We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, "Don`t ever do that to me again!" And I never did.
A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer`s Club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 flypast that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, "It was probably just a routine low approach; they`re pretty impressive in that plane." Impressive indeed.
Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It`s ironic that people are interested in how slow the world`s fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it`s always a good idea to keep that cross-check up...and keep your Mach up, too.
So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, "What was the slowest you ever flew in the Blackbird?" This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following.
I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England, with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 flypast. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it. After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea, we proceeded to find the small airfield.
Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from the 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field—yet, there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field.
Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the flypast. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us, but in the overcast and haze, I couldn`t see it. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point, we weren`t really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was), the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.
Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn`t say a word for those next 14 minutes. After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 flypast he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet`s hats were blown off and the sight of the planform of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of "breathtaking" very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach.
As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there—we hadn`t spoken a word since "the pass." Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots. What did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred fifty-two." We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, "Don`t ever do that to me again!" And I never did.
A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer`s Club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 flypast that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, "It was probably just a routine low approach; they`re pretty impressive in that plane." Impressive indeed.
Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It`s ironic that people are interested in how slow the world`s fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it`s always a good idea to keep that cross-check up...and keep your Mach up, too.
Sizzle Chest
Well-known member
Great reads! Thanks for posting gents!
jrock645
New member
Not sure which base it was on, maybe Miramar, but my grandfather talked about seeing those things take off. Basically told me there wasn`t anything he could tell me that could make you understand how amazing that plane was.
Tc99m
Member
Thank you for sharing. My father was on the USS John F Kennedy CV-67. He`ll be 70 this year. He still reminisces about night time operations. He said the planes taking off with full afterburner was just beautiful.
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JustJesus
New member
My favorite aircraft of all time. I enjoy reading stories about it. Thank you for sharing!
House of Wax
Active member
I`m not sure what is harder to wrap my head around.....The aircraft`s capability (which how many people really know the limits?), or the fact that it was developed in the freakin 60`s!
512detail
New member
nice read
wow, I`d go with the creation date relative to those capabilities for sure
JustJesus
New member
That always blew my mind as well. When I first learned of this aircraft, and did some research, I was blown away that it was developed way back then. Amazing, it still looks very "modern" - heck, even a little futuristic
TheMeanGreen
New member
Using a slide rule and simple calculators.
This post reminds me of the flight stories that my grandfather would tell me, he was a retired Air Force reconnaissance pilot during the late 50`s and early 60`s when the SR-71 was being developed, interestingly enough my grandfather went through flight school with and knew Gary Powers, the U2 pilot that got shot down over Russia. My grandfather flew the RF-101C, his most memorable story is when he flew a mission over East Germany in the early 60`s, as he was stationed in France. On his way back (just him), he said that he was well above his planes service altitude for the mach number that he was cruising at, I don`t remember the exact number but it was just around Mach 1, altitude around 50k feet (plane was designed for Mach 1.72 at 35k ft [wikipedia]). His reasoning for his super high altitude for his Mach number was due to not having a ton of fuel left and because he needed to put as much room in between himself and SAMs (one of which he just evaded). So he`s cruising in the Mach 1 range, just above 50k ft and the plane double flames out (both engines die due to lack oxygen or air) his case was too low of oxygen for his speed/engines. He said that because his plane flew like a brick, he lost around 20k feet in altitude in a matter of a couple minutes, if that. He said that he regained flame near the 30k ft mark after numerous attempts to get the engines re-fired.
Wait guys, it gets better.
Since he was still over East Germany, he couldn`t use his radio as it would give away his location and attract unwanted attention, so he couldn`t tell anyone back at base what had just happened. As he is nearing West Germany, he gets a call over the radio from base. His call sign was "Skater" (he was a speed skater earlier in his life). *Click*= depression of radio mic button
Base: "Skater"
Skater: *Silence, no response*
Base: Skater, where are you? (Remember the double flame out? It caused him to be behind schedule)
Skater: *Silence, no response*
Base: Skater, where the hell are you?
Skater: *Click, Click*
Base: Rodger that, see you when you get home.
One of his coolest stories, I wish I could tell it like he could. Also, I apologize for thread jacking, but since this story is related to the SR-71 BlackBird, I had to share.
Oneheadlite
Member
Thanks for all the great reads!
Shared the stories with my wife`s Dad, he sent me to this link: https://www.cnet.com/pictures/seven-decades-of-lockheed-skunk-works-aircraft-pictures/ . Cool stuff.
Shared the stories with my wife`s Dad, he sent me to this link: https://www.cnet.com/pictures/seven-decades-of-lockheed-skunk-works-aircraft-pictures/ . Cool stuff.