[Kyoseki]

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71 Blackbird (The Air Force/NASA super fast, highest flying reconnaissance jet, nicknamed, "The Sled"), but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane - intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet. I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat.

There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him.

The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot who asked Center for a read-out of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."

Now the thing to understand about Center controllers was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "Houston Center voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios. Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed in Beech. "I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed."

Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. "Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check." Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a read-out? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: "Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it - the click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: "Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."

I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money." For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, "Roger that Aspen. Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

(got it from another forum, no idea if it's real or not, but it certainly brought a smile to my face )

[HeVeMetL]

That's awesome. The blackbird has always been my favorite plane. Top speed Mach 3.5.

[Me007gold]

thats a fantastic story.

[tuckinauster]

Thats awesome. Nice post!

[bigjoe]

Great story.

[Greg_Volkman]

heard this one before. Always liked it. we had a few statics at Beale when I was there.

[yjislander]

awesome, thanks for the story

[Prot]

Great story. The SR-71 has always been my favorite aircraft. I think it is kind of amusing that the SR-71 wasn't the official designation until a certain president fumbled on the words and from then on the foul up in the speech was the official designation.

Thanks for the post Kyoseki. It really made my day.

[spife7980]

thats pretty food. im all smiles now. i would love to be a pilot.

but id poop myself to easily...

[RollerHman]

those sr-71 stories are always great. thanks for sharing!

[vmann7]

Awsome post Kyo, Makes one wonder though, they retired the lady so easily, what do they have at Groom Lake these days.

[1996BlackXJ]

That's an awesome story!

[Fierdon]

Awesome story! Thanks! I've had a hellacious day here at work and this made it so much better! I love the SR-71 Blackbird.

[Kyoseki]

Apparently, it's from the book "Sled Driver : Flying the World's Fastest Jet" by Brian Shul.

Unfortunately it seems to be out of print, but that story is taken from the first chapter of the book - turns out that www.sleddriver.com takes you to the publisher who are selling a limited edition of the book for a mere $427.

It seems that the old story of the SR-71 pilot requesting clearance for 80,000 feet and having the controller inquire just how the hell he planned to get up there, only to be told that the Blackbird was DESCENDING to 80,000 feet is from the same book.

It's nice to find out it's true rather than an urban legend, there's so much myth and mystique about the plane, it's hard to separate fact from fiction.

[NEVERSWEAT]

Great story..
I grew up in the Antelope Valley in Ca where the plane was tested daily.It used to sit on the run way and drip fuel. The joints were loose enough so at 80000 the pressure would seal the plane and secure fuel.. it was often a calulated effort to land it very low on fuel so the plane would not sit and drip so much.. and what I used to hear it was more thn a small leak.. I have seen the Concord at Dulless drip fuel in the same manner. The transport guide said it was as for the same reason as the Bird. Edwards AFB was on one side and lLockheed Plant 42 on the other.. where the 71 was kept. When any fast plane would break the sound barrier ( in the late sixties and early seventies) it would rattle the windows like crazy. Actually broke some older thinner panes of glass on many houses. Then came the blackbird.. me old man worked on the site where it was housed and used to hear pilots talk about a plane that could get over 4.0 mach but nobody ever went beyond the high 3s for fear of the unknown. Ddidn't matter about windows other than it got there pretty quick.

The wild thing was watching it fly over the house gaining speed and altitude. From what I can remember.. as fast as your head could turn your watching it disappear. The engine/ turbine noiuse was incredable. I think I was lucky to have viewed the plane in the hanger when out for company pickniks. Everybody was out to watch it clear airspace. Mach being somewhere in the high end of 760 MPH?? and this thing turn and burns at 3.78 mach.. is incredible. able to get over M-4.. a whapping 2800 MPH? That has to be a bullet only bigger.. I have often thought what it would be like to witness M-4 at low altitude and get a feel what a bullet at 2500fps looks like.. maybe no comparison because of size but cool just the same
Thanks Kyo