Navigating in the U-2 was easier than I thought it would be. Normal airplanes, when navigating from one point to another, had to correct for wind. Without constant correction, the wind would push the airplane off course. This was not a concern in the U-2 because there is no wind above 50,000 feet. Your heading to the target is automatically your course. One of the other nice navigation aids was the reverse periscope. It worked just like a periscope on a submarine but instead of being able to see up, you could see what was directly below you. One of the systems the airplane didn’t have, and I thought I would miss, was the weather radar. It turned out that I didn’t need it, at least at high altitude. If there was a thunderstorm along the route, I could usually top it. This would later prove to be a problem at night however.
The inflight refreshments in the U-2 were very limited. It was very important to stay hydrated. Pint-sized bottles of water or Gatorade were provided. Attached to the top of these bottles was a long, flexible plastic tube, which fit into an opening in the front of the helmet. I followed my instructor’s advice and drank plenty of liquid during the flight. This is where I encountered my first problem in the airplane. I drank, and I drank, and I drank some more; but I couldn’t urinate in the airplane. I absolutely could not make myself do it. As hard as I tried and as much as I wanted to, it would not flow. I think I couldn’t get over the idea of peeing in my pants. Rationally, I know that the urine would flow into the tube and down into the well, but my body wouldn’t believe it.
We completed our navigation and now it was time to start down. The U-2 doesn’t like to go down. It was designed to go up, to climb. The combination of thrust and wing area made descent difficult. The descent checklist read as follows:
Power: Idle
Landing Gear: Down
Flaps: Extend
Speed Brakes and Spoilers: Extend
Even with all this stuff hanging off the airplane, it still took 45 minutes to an hour to get back to Mother Earth. Meanwhile, I really had to pee, but still couldn’t do it in the airplane. I had to wait until I got back to the PSD building and undressed. Ahhhh, relief!
The second training flight followed a pattern similar to the first, only this time; we headed down the coast of California, east to Death Valley, then back to Beale. I knew I had to beat this urination problem. Once again I drank plenty of fluids hoping to force the issue, but it was still a no-go. I returned to the Beale traffic pattern with a full bladder.
The crosswind that day was just under the limit at 9 or 10 knots and we had to practice landings. The first landing was successful but we landed in a very slight crab. The second time we landed in a crab again but more pronounced this time. When the airplane touched down, it immediately realigned itself with the runway. That’s when the fun started.
As advertised, with that sudden correction, the tailwheel steering had snapped. We knew this because the airplane started turning into the crosswind like a weathervane and was not responding to tailwheel steering inputs. The instructor took control of the airplane as we continued to drift right. He shut down the engine as we ran off the runway into the grass. We stopped about 20 feet off the runway and let tower know what was happening. We told them we didn’t need an emergency response. Our mobile crew had seen what had happened and they arranged for a tug to bring the aircraft back to the maintenance hangar. I experienced first hand what a tailwheel failure felt like. The airplane turned into the wind and we were powerless to do anything about it.
The third mission was solo day. It was strictly a traffic pattern ride so no pressure suit was required. The weather was clear but it was windy. On my first landing attempt, I stalled it a bit too low and the airplane hit the runway and became airborne again. I went around and tried it again. This time I wasn’t lined up properly. The crosswind was light but I was still turned into the wind as I held the airplane off the ground. I didn’t like the look of it so I went around again. Now I was talking to myself. I gave myself a good pep talk and went at it again. This time it all came together for a successful landing. I completed three more that day before it was time to quit. The Wing and Squadron Commanders, as well as the base photographer that documented the deed, met me as I climbed down from the cockpit. I had become the 248th person to solo the U-2. It was a great milestone for me and I was awfully glad it was behind me.
That night there was a ceremony in my honor at the Officers Club in which I was officially inducted into the U-2 pilot fraternity. To make it legal, I had one more chore to perform. Every new U-2 pilot had to do it and now it was my turn.
A yard of beer was filled to the top (and I mean all the way to the top). A small, black U-2 pin was dropped to the bottom of the yard glass. My task was to lift the yard without spilling a drop of beer and drink it all down without lowering the yard. I had to keep the yard up until it was empty and the pin slid into my mouth. This was way harder than flying the airplane, but with all the squadron pilots shouting their encouragement, I managed to do it. Luckily, I had the next day off to recover.
The next two C missions were solo high flights similar to the ones I had previously flown with an instructor. These two missions had a different feel. There was definitely something different about being alone up there. I can only describe it as blissful isolation. It was just me and the airplane flying along as one, 14 miles above the earth. On a more mundane note, I still couldn’t pee.
On the last C flight I was determined to make it work. I forced the issue. I drank at least a quart of water before I suited up. Additionally, I drank three bottles of Gatorade and two bottles of water in flight. Just when I thought my bladder would burst, I was able to go. What blessed relief! Once I had gone while in the pressure suit the first time, all bets were off. I was so comfortable going in the suit that I had no difficulty going anytime, including when the technicians were strapping me in before departure. They would give me this look like, “couldn’t you wait until we were gone before you let loose?” I just smiled and let it flow.
It was during these last two “C” flights that I was introduced to the U-2 version of the boxed lunch. In the cockpit, beneath my left elbow, was a small, round hole in the panel. This was the oven. The food came in tubes resembling toothpaste tubes. I popped a tube into the oven, turned it on, and waited. After a few minutes I took the tube out of the oven and screwed a plastic bayonet on the end of the tube. I inserted the bayonet end into the hole in my helmet and started squeezing the food through the tube into my mouth. Some of the meals available were spaghetti and meatballs, pot roast, macaroni and cheese and even butterscotch pudding for dessert. I never came back from a mission hungry. In spite of eating the tube food and drinking five or six bottles of water or Gatorade, I would lose an average of five pounds on a typical ten-hour mission.
Chapter 9
After completing the five “C” missions, I graduated to the “R.” The U-2R was a very different flying machine from the “C.” The “R” was heavier, had a longer fuselage and 23 more feet of wing. This was the airplane in operational use around the world. I was scheduled for five training flights out of Beale before I would be eligible for an overseas TDY. Since there were no “R” trainers, a thorough briefing from an instructor before the mission would have to suffice. The cockpits of the “C” and “R” were similar but not identical. We didn’t have a simulator or mock up for the “R” so I spent several hours sitting in the actual airplane familiarizing myself with the switch locations. The “R” is an ominous looking beast. The airplane is painted with a special radar-reflective black paint. The only thing clearly visible on the airplane is the five-digit registration number painted in red on the tail.