Posted on 12/23/2015 5:37:07 AM PST by PIF
VERY good point.
The continuing need for immediate, real-time intel collection. Satellites are pretty much strategic intel vehicles that take time to reposition, unless they’re by some good fortune, directly over the hotspot. The U-2 and various UAS’s are tactical vehicles that can redirected more quickly than satellites.
Expense of keeping the SR airborne.
The dang thing leaked until it hit cruising speed. All that heat also causes metal fatigue.
Years ago, they put one of the retired SR’s at the old Offut museum. It hadn’t been totally decommissioned yet. There was an old crewman talking about the work to keep the engines going.
I will never forget the feel of the skin of that bird. Like hard cardboard.
As an engineer, I thank God I am just a little less than a decade too old to have had to learn to use a slide rule.
But think of all the hours of enjoyment you missed out on trying to solve a complex problem you solve now in seconds! It boggles ...
well there is whatever they are building a new hanger for at Area 51 ...
Tell that to the Space Shuttle team.
Hey! Once upon a time I could jockey a slide rule. They did an EXCELLENT job in their day. And then came the pocket calculator.
Consider that some 50 years later many of the SR-71 records still stand is amazing.
Oh yeah, because I had so much time as an an engineering undergradm married with kids, and working a full time night shift job to finance the fun and games!!
Merry Crhistmas to you and yours!
I remember when there were “NO B-52s at Kadena”. Yet, the same fence and road had lots of photographers snapping photos when those non-existant B-52s took off.
We also refuled the SR-71 quite often. Back in 1968 and ‘69.
SR-71! Fascinating photos!
http://sploid.gizmodo.com/fascinating-photos-reveal-how-they-built-the-sr-71-blac-1683754944
Transporting the SR-71 to Nevada by trucks. Skim down to photos!
http://roadrunnersinternationale.com/transporting_the_a-12.html
That was seriously cool.
http://sploid.gizmodo.com/5511236/the-thrill-of-flying-the-sr-71-blackbird
Spent 3 1/2 years in the early 80s at Beale AFB in the 349th Air Refueling Squadron chasing the SR-71 around the world to include RAF Mildenall, Kadena AB, and other locations. Awesome aircraft to air refuel. Some of the best years on my life flying in the old KC-135Q model steam jets. Good times!
The SR-71 leaked fuel by design. Cracks were built in to allow the aircraft to
“stretch” by about a foot in flight due to the heat stresses.
However all that heat-treatment effect of Mach 3+ STRENGTHENED the titanium fuselage. The birds left service with stronger airframes than when they first flew.
Thats a classic. But I like his story about the “how slow could you go” question a lot better.
(can’t copy/paste that from my phone, would someone mind googling and putting it up for me?)
Sure
As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend. It's an interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed, but there really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, we never let it run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual "high" speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order. Let's just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn't previously seen.
So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, "What was the slowest you ever flew in the Blackbird?" This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following.
I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England, with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 flypast. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it. After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea, we proceeded to find the small airfield.
Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from the 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field—yet, there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field.
Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the flypast. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us, but in the overcast and haze, I couldn't see it. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point, we weren't really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was), the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.
Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes. After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 flypast he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet's hats were blown off and the sight of the planform of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of "breathtaking" very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach.
As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there—we hadn't spoken a word since "the pass." Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots. What did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred fifty-two." We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, "Don't ever do that to me again!" And I never did.
A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer's Club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 flypast that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, "It was probably just a routine low approach; they're pretty impressive in that plane." Impressive indeed.
Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It's ironic that people are interested in how slow the world's fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it's always a good idea to keep that cross-check up...and keep your Mach up, too.
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