Читать онлайн "Dark Eagles: A History of the Top Secret U.S. Aircraft" - Peebles Curtis - RuLit

F-117A number 792 had slammed into a hillside in the Sequoia National Forest, about fifteen nautical miles from Bakersfield. Major Ross E. Mulhare was killed in the crash.[460]

An air force search party soon arrived and ordered all civilians out of the area.[461] The crash site was declared a national security area — no unauthorized people could enter the site, and no planes could fly within five miles of the crash site at altitudes below 8,500 feet. When Hoyt called Edwards Air Force Base to report what he had seen, the air force brought the three of them to a command post near the crash site. The film was developed, and two sets of prints were returned, minus the shots of the aircraft.[462]

The air force said only that a plane had crashed and the pilot had been killed. They would not say what type of aircraft, where it had taken off, its mission, or where it was going. There was no doubt among the press about what had crashed; an investigator with Dingell's subcommittee was quoted as saying, "It is clearly the F-19 that crashed." Dingell requested a briefing on the crash, but was turned down.[463]

The reports that followed the crash were a mixture of guesswork and speculation. Newsweek ran an article that claimed over seventy-two stealth fighters were operational; it speculated that the crash site would have to be cordoned off "forever" to prevent the Soviets from recovering debris. (In fact, the site was reopened after several weeks.) The New York Times claimed that the F-19 cost $150 million each. (The actual fly-away cost of the F-117A was $42.6 million, nearly identical to the $40 million cost of the F-15E Strike Eagle.)

Other articles were more accurate. An August 22, 1986, Washington Post story said that about fifty aircraft were operational, that the F-19 designation was incorrect, and that the plane was described as "ugly" due to its bulging, nontraditional shape. The plane's base was also identified as being Tonopah. Other reports described the daily flights to and from the base.[464]

While the press chased rumors and shadows, the air force tried to find the cause of the crash. This was made difficult by the condition of the debris. A report by Robert M. McGregor, an engineer at the Air Force Sacra-mento Air Logistics Center, stated: "Without exception, in terms of physical damage to the aircraft, this is the worst crash that 1 have worked. Structural breakup was almost absolute. 'Shattered' may best describe the aircraft after impact… The right engine compressor drum… was crushed to half its normal length." The F-117A had hit the ground in a steep dive, between 20 and 60 degrees. There had been no in-flight fire, the engines were at a high-power setting at the time of impact, and Mulhare had not attempted to eject.[465]

The most probable reason was pilot disorientation. At night, without the normal visual clues, a pilot cannot tell if he is flying straight or is in a turn.

Lights on the ground can also be mistaken for stars. The problem was compounded by the F-117A's instrument panel design. Normally, the artificial horizon and other instruments are in the center of the panel, so the pilot can read them without moving his head. On the F-117A, the center of the panel is occupied by the FLIR-DLIR screen. To look at the instruments, the pilot had to turn his head. This took some getting used to, and more important, it could cause vertigo. An F-117 pilot later noted that most cases of disorientation were caused by a pilot moving his head while flying on instruments.[466]

The death of Mulhare was a wake-up call for the 4450th Tactical Group.

Although the training schedule remained demanding, pilots were more closely monitored for signs of fatigue and were better trained to resist disorientation. The attitude also began to change: admitting you were not fit to fly a mission was seen as a sign of strength, not weakness. Pilots would watch each other; if someone showed signs of fatigue, a buddy would pull him aside for a private chat.

One of those who worked to instill this attitude was Maj. Michael C. Stewart. Several times, he had spoken about the need to avoid unnecessary risks. At 7:53 P.M. on October 14, 1987, he took off in F-117A number 815.

The flight was a single-plane mission that would remain within the Nellis Air Force Base range. The night was clear and dark, with no moon. The mission was under visual flight rules. At 8:33 P.M., about three-fourths of the way through the mission, radar controllers noticed the plane had strayed to the left of its planned ground track. It then disappeared from their radar.[467]

Shortly thereafter, a large fire on the Nellis range was reported to the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), which relayed word to the air force.

The air force asked the BLM not to say where or how big the fire was.[468]

The F-117A hit the ground in an area of gently sloping desert, digging a crater six to seven feet deep. The plane was 28-degrees nose down and in a 55-degree right bank at impact. There was no in-flight fire, and the F-117A was intact before impact. The engines were at a low-power setting. Major Stewart never attempted to eject.

There were a number of similarities to the loss of Mulhare the year before. Both were experienced pilots but had limited time in the F-117A — 53.5 hours for Mulhare, 76.7 hours for Stewart. Both accidents occurred on dark, moonless nights. Again, disorientation was blamed.[469]

As with the earlier crash, the air force released minimal information, but the press had no doubt that another "stealth fighter" had crashed. Because the crash had occurred within the Nellis range, however, there was not the publicity of the first loss.

This changed less than a week after Stewart died. On October 20, an A-7D on a cross-country flight suffered a flameout. Its pilot, Maj. Bruce L. Teagarden, attempted to make an emergency landing at Indianapolis Airport, Indiana. The attempt was unsuccessful due to weather, and Teagarden was forced to eject. He landed safely, but the A-7D crashed into the lobby of a Ramada Inn, killing nine people. Press interest grew when it was learned that Major Teagarden was a member of the 4450th Tactical Group — the same unit Mulhare and Stewart had flown with.

Yet again, the press speculated. It was suggested that the A-7s had been modified with stealth systems or were playing the role of Soviet aircraft for stealth fighter practice missions.[470]

OUT OF THE BLACK

Although the erroneous reports effectively hid the true information, it was clear that the wall of secrecy around the F-117A was breaking down. In January 1988, Armed Forces Journal revealed the aircraft's actual designation was the F-117 Nighthawk.[471]

More important, the "big secret" of stealth, faceting, was starting to leak out. In 1986, there were reports that the F-19 was not smooth, but rather had "a multi-faceted outer-body surface" and a "cut-diamond exterior." This was described as being thousands of flat surfaces, none more than eight square inches in size, which did not share the same "reflectivity angle."[472]

The F-117A actually used large panels, but the basic principle was the same.

A second major disclosure came in September 1987 with the release of a second Testors kit. This was a model of a (hypothetical) Soviet stealth aircraft, the "MiG 37B Ferret-E." The aircraft was made up of large, flat panels — faceting.[473] Reporters were soon being told by "reliable sources" that "if you want to see what the F-117 looks like, look at that MiG 37 model."[474]