The nose fell and I could see again. So we went around and did some more. I ended up with six landings that day. None of them perfect, but all safe and acceptable. After the flight my instructor debriefed me. We reviewed my landing videos along with the Operations Officer, and three other squadron pilots. Everyone offered his comments, both good and bad, but overall it appeared that I did okay.
They set me up with another ride. The second ride went off the following afternoon. The temperature was in the low 90’s with about a five-knot crosswind.
Because of its massive wing area, the U-2 is seriously affected by thermals. These are columns of rising air created by uneven heating of the ground from solar radiation. The sun warms the ground, which in turn, warms the air directly above it. Encountering a thermal in a normal airplane causes turbulence, a rough ride. A U-2 encountering a thermal is another story. When the U-2 meets a strong thermal it feels like the airplane is riding up an express elevator. When that rising column of air meets all that wing area, things happen fast. If the pilot doesn’t react immediately, the airplane starts climbing, rapidly. This is not a problem when you’re in a climb. But in the traffic pattern, when you’re 200 feet above the ground trying to hit that six to ten foot window over the end of the runway, it can ruin the whole day.
Immediate corrective action is required. This point was drummed into my head during those flights and briefings. Put the airplane where you want it. Fly the airplane; don’t let it fly you. This was the true secret to flying this or any other airplane. When the thermal started pushing you up, you forced the bird back down.
I was thoroughly briefed on this before I flew but I had to see it to believe it. I made the initial takeoff and we proceeded out to the local area to do some basic airwork again. We hit a couple of thermals on climb out but I made a small correction and continued the climb. The basic area work went well so we headed back to the traffic pattern. The instructor demoed the first landing. We did encounter some thermal activity in the final turn and on short final approach. He pointed this out, made the corrections required, and made a nice landing. Now it was my turn. Most of the traffic pattern was normal. We hit a couple of big bumps in the final turn but corrected and continued on. Everything looked wired when I got down on short final approach about 300 feet off the ground. Then we hit a thermal. The airplane started up, quite rapidly. I made a correction but not nearly big or aggressive enough to stop the climb. Within mere seconds we were out of the landing window.
I elected to go around and flew a wide, extended pattern so we could discuss what just happened. But I knew what had happened and I was determined not to repeat it. On the next attempt, we bumped around the final turn and rolled out on final in perfect position. This time the thermal hit about 100 feet higher than the last time but I was ready. I aggressively pushed the airplane back down to the glide path adjusting the throttle to keep the airspeed right at 90 knots. This time we were able to land. Because of the crosswind I did land in a slight crab. I thought my instructor was going to come through the Plexiglas separating the front and rear cockpits and gnaw my head off. Jesus H. Christ, I thought. I beat the thermal, made the landing, and he’s still reaming me a new asshole. We talked about that for a while. I had learned my lesson. EVERY landing had to be done just right every time. Speed had to be exact, altitude over the end of the runway precise, and crab, none allowed. We did six more and I had found my groove, all good landings, and no crab. When that flight was over I was sure of two things. I had made the program, and I was completely wrung out, exhausted, and sweat-soaked.
My instructor debriefed me, congratulated me and we made the rounds in the squadron. Every pilot in the building congratulated me and welcomed me to the most exclusive flying club on earth.
I called my wife with the good news and she gave me her good news. We had a buyer for our house. What a day!
Chapter 6
I returned to Selma to start the big move. Seven days later we were ready to hit the road. We were a two-car family and that complicated the trip. Doreen and the kids took the station wagon while I drove the TR-6. We each had a CB radio and had our own mini caravan across the country. It’s hard to imagine making a trip like that today without cell phones but the CB worked well for us. We took frequent breaks and made it into a short vacation.
Base housing at Beale was considerably nicer and newer than either Pope or Craig. Since off-base housing was quite a distance from the base, we opted to move into Officers housing at Beale. Our house sat on a ridge looking out over beautiful, rolling hills.
Once we settled into our house, I began the mind-numbing process of checking into a new base. This consisted of carrying around a large stack of official documents from building to building getting every administrator’s seal of approval.
We were also meeting our neighbors. We had a good group on our street. My next-door neighbor was an SR-71 pilot, Major Tom Peck. Tom had been on base for a year but hadn’t flown yet. Our wing, the 9th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing, included the U-2 and the SR-71. Both squadrons were housed in a large “H” shaped building. The U-2 operation on one side, the SR-71 group on the other, with a common operations briefing room in the middle.
The SR-71, nicknamed the “Blackbird,” was the fastest airplane on earth. Huge, black, and twin-engine, it could cruise at three times the speed of sound. It looked like something from the set of Star Wars. Naturally, in such elite groups as ours, there was intense rivalry. The U-2 was a single engine, single pilot aircraft. Our unofficial motto was “Alone, Unarmed, and Unafraid.” Both squadrons’ pilots wore orange flight suits. No other USAF pilots did. We thought we were the “Cat’s Ass.”
The SR-71 was a two-man operation, a pilot up front and a systems operator in the back. It was our one pilot, one engine operation versus their two-man, two engine operation. Obviously we were superior to them! The SR-71 got all the publicity: newspapers, national magazines, radio and TV interviews. We referred to their squadron as the 1st SPS or Strategic Publicity Squadron. They were always on national news setting a new Los Angeles to Washington speed record. Kelly Johnson at Lockheed, the designer of the U-2, also designed the SR-71. The airplane was built to do post-nuclear war strike damage assessment. Since it never got to do that, they had to think of other things for it to do. Setting speed records was one of them.
The U-2 was the airplane of choice for aerial reconnaissance. It was a stable platform and provided outstanding results. The SR-71 was very fast but the quality of its product didn’t measure up to the U-2’s results. The SR-71 was also a maintenance nightmare. During supersonic flight, the titanium-skinned airplane stretched out more than 18 inches. When the airplane taxied out before flight it leaked fuel like a sieve. Once the airplane got airborne and heated up, it sealed up and the leaks stopped. Every time it flew, it required a complete maintenance phase inspection. In laymen’s terms, they practically took the airplane apart and put it back together after each flight. After learning these facts about the airplane, it became clear to me why Peck still hadn’t flown after being here a year.
Chapter 7
One of the perks of joining this select group was the additional flying available, not in the U-2 but in the T-38. Both U-2 and SR-71 pilots had twelve T-38s to use to maintain instrument currency, go cross-country, or fly formation. Since I was a certified T-38 instructor at Craig, I was now a T-38 instructor at Beale.