My first flight in the “R” was a traffic pattern only ride. As soon as I began to taxi I could feel the “R” was different. It felt more sluggish and harder to maneuver on the ramp. Every turn required a bigger lead point. The “C” was difficult enough to taxi; the “R” was more so. With only a steerable tailwheel the longer wings and fuselage demanded your complete attention while on the ground. I managed to get myself out to the runway without running off the taxiway. I was cleared for takeoff and lined the airplane up with the centerline of the runway. I ran the engine up, checked the gauges and released the brakes. The airplane shot forward like it was launched from a catapult. The pogos dropped off immediately and I was airborne.
Since I was staying in the traffic pattern, I leveled at 1500 feet and set up for the first landing. I soon discovered that the “R” was more sluggish in the air as well as on the ground. It took more effort to muscle it around the pattern. This airplane was made to fly above 70,000 feet. To its designers, flying it around the traffic pattern was an afterthought. The airplane did trim up nicely and soon I felt more comfortable flying it. The first landing proved to be a non-event. The heavier, wider airplane worked to my advantage. The “C” model was very unstable in the longitudinal axis (front to back), and would easily porpoise on landing. The “R” was a rock and didn’t jump around like the “C.”
I was much happier with my “R” landings. All the caveats of the “C” landing still applied but the heavier airplane produced consistently better landings. I cleared the runway after my last landing and stopped on the taxiway. The airplane settled on the left wingtip. Each wingtip has a replaceable titanium skid for this reason. As my proficiency increased, I would eventually be able to clear the runway and wait for my mobile to install the pogos without either wingtip touching the ground.
My next mission would be a get acquainted high flight. The airplane flew differently at high altitude and I had to become as comfortable flying high as I was at traffic pattern altitude.
The airplane was made to fly high. A quick way to verify this fact is to look at the operation of the autopilot. The autopilot worked well for both navigation and basic aircraft control such as turns, climbs, and descents. But it was only effective above 50,000 feet. From ground level up to 50,000 feet, it was worthless. If you engaged the autopilot below 50,000 feet, it simply didn’t follow the pilot’s inputs.
The most critical factor on a U-2 high flight was speed control. If not strictly controlled it could kill you. The mission profile is a constant climb that shallows out the higher you go. After nine or ten hours, you’re at 75,000 feet and it’s time to go home.
Above 50,000 feet, the autopilot was engaged and set for the ideal climb speed. This speed was somewhere between 100 and 110 knots indicated airspeed (IAS). The true airspeed at high altitude was 406 knots. At sea level with no wind, the indicated and true airspeeds are virtually identical. True airspeed corrected for instrument and position error, then adjusted for dynamic pressure differences, yields the indicated airspeed. The airspeed in the climb was critical for two reasons. If the speed was too slow, just five knots below target speed, the airplane would stall. The entire tail assembly of the airplane (rudder and elevator) was held in place by three bolts. A high altitude stall would violently drop the airplane and the tail would separate. The low altitude stalls we did to balance the fuel load prior to landing were not risky, the high altitude ones were. If the aircraft exceeded the climb speed by only five knots, it would experience Mach buffet, which would violently shake the airplane and lead to the same result as a stall, loss of the tail.
The autopilot did a pretty good job of speed control but it had to be closely monitored because your life depended on it.
During the extended climb, engine exhaust gas temperature (EGT) had to be kept as high as possible without over temping the engine. This was done to get maximum performance from the airplane. If engine EGT was exceeded, a small red light on the gauge would illuminate. The U-2 had no auto throttle. It was manual control only. If the EGT was set to the limit, it would stay there for a few minutes, then creep higher, eventually tripping the warning light on. For the entire mission prior to descent the pilot had to continuously crack the throttle back to remain within EGT limits. Combine the critical speed control with the equally critical EGT control and you can see how a U-2 pilot could become “task saturated” very easily.
The first U-2R high flight ended without drama, but I did discover an interesting detail about the urine collection system. Since I was now very comfortable urinating through my suit, I drank a lot in flight. This particular mission was about five hours long and I had five bottles of Gatorade. I also had some water before I suited up. About three hours into the mission, while recycling this fluid from myself to the airplane, I noticed a yellow fluid shooting out of a thin tube on the back of the control column. I followed this tube down and it led into the urine collection box. What no one had bothered to tell me was that when the box filled up, the excess urine shot out through the overflow tube up onto the canopy just above my head. Since the canopy was cold from being at altitude, the pee froze. Now I had a sheet of yellow ice hanging over my head. On descent, as the outside air temperature warmed, the pee liquefied and started raining down on me. I was going to say this really pissed me off, but…
The next high flight added a new wrinkle to my training. This flight would be for photo reconnaissance. The nose of the U-2R is very long and built to hold a variety of cameras. The one loaded on my airplane that day was the most advanced model available. It was huge. The tech guys said it was the size of a Volkswagen. A special nose cone was fitted on the plane to accommodate this monster. The lower part of the nose cone had clear Plexiglas panels along the axis of the lens. When the camera was on, the entire nose cone rotated from left to right and back again. While rotating continuously, the camera took pictures from horizon to horizon all along the flight path.
My route that day took me west to Delta, Utah, just southwest of Provo. From there I turned south to Tucson. This track would take me about 50 miles east of Phoenix. I turned the camera on as I passed abeam Phoenix and I watched in amazement as the entire nose of the airplane rotated left, right and back again. When I hit the southern limits of the city I turned off the camera and wondered what kind of pictures I had taken.
Later that week I met with the Photo Intel people so I could view my work. The most striking pictures I remember were taken of a parking lot at the University of Phoenix at Tempe. From 50 miles east and above 70,000 feet, the license plates on the cars in the lot were easily readable.
During my non-flying days, my wife and I spent the time acclimating to northern California. The location was great for more than just the beautiful weather. We were within easy driving distance to the Lake Tahoe/Reno area to the east, and San Francisco to the southwest. We also got to spend some time getting to know the neighbors.
One neighbor, who lived behind us, had been overseas when we arrived and he had just returned from a remote temporary duty at Osan Air Base, Korea. “Muff” Johansen was a short but powerful hulk of a man. He had been in the squadron about two years before I arrived. He was a wealth of information on both the airplane and life in Korea.
I made it a point to get to know every squadron pilot. Not only would I eventually work with them, I believed they each could add to my knowledge of the U-2 operation. They all had unique experiences in the airplane and I wanted to know about them. If, for example, I had talked to enough pilots I may have found out about the “pee” shower before experiencing it. The seasoned veterans in the squadron, however, believed that all new guys should experience these non-critical “eye openers” for themselves.