Subject: SR-71, Bye-bye Blackbird
This was once a highly sensitive program at Norton AFB. The 'SR-71 Blackbird'
One is on display at the AF Museum in Dayton and another at Pima Air Museum in Tucson.
In April 1986, following an attack on American soldiers in a Berlin disco, President Reagan
ordered the bombing of Muammar Qaddafi's terrorist camps in Libya. My duty was to fly
over Libya and take photos recording the damage our F-111's had inflicted. Qaddafi had
established a 'line of death,' a territorial marking across the Gulf of Sidra, swearing
to shoot down any intruder that crossed the boundary. On the morning of April 15,
I rocketed past the line at 2,125 mph.
I was piloting the SR-71 spy plane, the world's fastest jet, accompanied by a Marine Major (Walt),
the aircraft's reconnaissance systems officer (RSO). We had crossed into Libya and were approaching
our final turn over the bleak desert landscape when Walt informed me that he was receiving missile
launch signals. I quickly increased our speed, calculating the time it would take for the weapons,
most likely SA-2 and SA-4 surface-to-air missiles capable of Mach 5, to reach our altitude.
I estimated that we could beat the rocket-powered missiles to the turn and stayed our course, betting
our lives on the plane's performance.
After several agonizingly long seconds, we made the turn and blasted toward the Mediterranean.
'You might want to pull it back,' Walt suggested. It was then that I noticed I still had the throttles
full forward. The plane was flying a mile every 1.6 seconds, well above our Mach 3.2 limit.
It was the fastest we would ever fly. I pulled the throttles to idle just south of Sicily, but we still
overran the refueling tanker awaiting us over Gibraltar...
Scores of significant aircraft have been produced in the 100 years of flight, following the achievements
of the Wright brothers, which we celebrate in December. Aircraft such as the Boeing 707, the F-86 Sabre
Jet, and the P-51 Mustang are among the important machines that have flown our skies. But the SR-71, also
known as the Blackbird, stands alone as a significant contributor to Cold War victory and as the fastest
plane ever, and only 93 Air Force pilots ever steered the 'sled,' as we called our aircraft.
The SR-71 was the brainchild of Kelly Johnson, the famed Lockheed designer who created the
P-38, the F-104 Starfighter, and the U-2. After the Soviets shot down Gary Powers' U-2 in 1960,
Johnson began to develop an aircraft that would fly three miles higher and five times faster than
the spy plane, and still be capable of photographing your license plate.
However, flying at 2,000 mph would create intense heat on the aircraft's skin.
Lockheed engineers used a titanium alloy to construct more than 90 percent of the SR-71,
creating special tools and manufacturing procedures to hand-build each of the 40 planes.
Special heat-resistant fuel, oil, and hydraulic fluids that would function at 85,000 feet and
higher also had to be developed.
In 1962, the first Blackbird successfully flew, and in 1966, the same year I graduated from
high school, the Air Force began flying operational SR-71 missions.
I came to the program in 1983 with a sterling record and a recommendation from my
commander, completing the weeklong interview and meeting Walt, my partner for the next
four years. He would ride four feet behind me, working all the cameras, radios, and electronic
jamming equipment. I joked that if we were ever captured, he was the spy and I was just
the driver. He told me to keep the pointy end forward.
We trained for a year, flying out of Beale AFB in California, Kadena Airbase in Okinawa ,
and RAF Mildenhall in England. On a typical training mission, we would take off near
Sacramento, refuel over Nevada, accelerate into Montana, obtain high Mach over Colorado ,
turn right over New Mexico, speed across the Los Angeles Basin, run up the West Coast,
turn right at Seattle, then return to Beale. Total flight time: two hours and 40 minutes.
One day, high above Arizona, we were monitoring the radio traffic of all the mortal
airplanes below us. First, a Cessna pilot asked the air traffic controllers to check
his ground speed. 'Ninety knots,' ATC replied. A Bonanza soon made the same request.
'One-twenty on the ground,' was the reply. To our surprise, a navy F-18 came over the
radio requesting a ground speed check. I knew exactly what he was doing. Of course, he had
a ground speed indicator in his cockpit, but he wanted to let all the bug-smashers in the
valley know what real speed was - 'we show you at 620 knots on the ground,' ATC responded.
The situation was too ripe. I heard the click of Walt's mike button in the rear seat.
In his most innocent voice, Walt startled the controller by asking for a ground speed check
from 81,000 feet, clearly above controlled airspace. In a cool, professional voice,
the controller replied, ' I show you at 1,982 knots on the ground.'
We did not hear another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.
The Blackbird always showed us something new, each aircraft possessing its own unique
personality. In time, we realized we were flying a national treasure. When we taxied out
of our revetments for takeoff, people took notice. Traffic congested near the airfield
fences, because everyone wanted to see and hear the mighty SR-71 lift off.
You could not be a part of this program and not come to love the airplane.
Slowly, she revealed her secrets to us as we earned her trust.
One moonless night, while flying a routine training mission over the Pacific, I wondered
what the sky would look like from 84,000 feet if the cockpit lighting were dark.
While heading home on a straight course, I slowly turned down all of the lighting,
reducing the glare and revealing the night sky.
Within seconds, I turned the lights back up, fearful that the jet would know and somehow
punish me. But my desire to see the sky overruled my caution, I dimmed the lighting
again. To my amazement, I saw a bright light outside my window. As my eyes adjusted
to the view, I realized that the brilliance was the broad expanse of the Milky Way,
now a gleaming stripe across the sky.
Where dark spaces in the sky had usually existed, there were now dense clusters of sparkling
stars. Shooting stars flashed across the canvas every few seconds.
It was like a fireworks display with no sound.
I knew I had to get my eyes back on the instruments, and reluctantly I brought my attention
back inside. To my surprise, with the cockpit lighting still off, I could see every gauge,
lit by starlight. In the plane's mirrors, I could see the eerie shine of my gold spacesuit
incandescently illuminated in a celestial glow. I stole one last glance out the window.
Despite our speed, we seemed still before the heavens, humbled in the radiance of a much
greater power. For those few moments, I felt a part of something far more significant than
anything we were doing in the plane. The sharp sound of Walt's voice on the radio brought
me back to the tasks at hand as I prepared for our descent.
San Diego Aerospace Museum
The SR-71 was an expensive aircraft to operate. The most significant cost was tanker support, and
in 1990, confronted with budget cutbacks, the Air Force retired the SR-71.
The SR-71 served six presidents, protecting America for a quarter of a century. Unbeknownst to most, during
conflicts the plane flew over USSR, North Vietnam, Red China, North Korea, the Middle East, South African
Cuba, Nicaragua, Iran, Libya, and the Falkland Islands. On a weekly basis, the SR-71 kept watch over every
Soviet nuclear submarine and mobile missile site, and all of their troop movements. It was a key factor in
winning the Cold War.
I am proud to say I flew about 500 hours in this aircraft. I knew her well. She gave way to no plane,
proudly dragging her sonic boom through enemy backyards with great impunity. She defeated every
missile, outran every MiG, and always brought us home. In the first 100 years of manned flight, no
aircraft was more remarkable.
The Blackbird had outrun nearly 4,000 missiles, not once taking a scratch from enemy fire.
On her final flight, the Blackbird, destined for the Smithsonian National Air and Space
Museum, sped from Los Angeles to Washington in 64 minutes, at a constant 2,145 mph
and setting four speed records.
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