- #1
Cyrus
- 3,238
- 16
Thought you all might enjoy reading this.
U-2 Dragon Lady
Maj. Dean Neeley is in the forward, lower cockpit of the Lockheed
U-2ST, a two-place version of the U-2S, a high-altitude reconnaissance
aircraft that the Air Force calls "Dragon Lady.." His voice on the
intercom breaks the silence. "Do you know that you're the highest person
in the world?" He explains that I am in the higher of the two cockpits
and that there are no other U-2s airborne right now. "Astronauts don't
count," he says, "They're out of this world."
We are above 70,000 feet and still climbing slowly as the aircraft
becomes lighter. The throttle has been at its mechanical limit since
takeoff, and the single General Electric F118-GE-101 turbofan engine sips
fuel so slowly at this altitude that consumption is less than when idling
on the ground. Although true airspeed is that of a typical jetliner,
indicated airspeed registers only in double digits.
I cannot detect the curvature of the Earth, although some U-2 pilots
claim that they can. The sky at the horizon is hazy white but transitions
to midnight blue at our zenith. It seems that if we were much higher, the
sky would become black enough to see stars at noon.. The Sierra Nevada,
the mountainous spine of California, has lost its glory, a mere
corrugation on the Earth. Lake Tahoe looks like a fishing hole, and
rivers have become rivulets. Far below, "high flying" jetliners etch
contrails over Reno, Nevada, but we are so high above these aircraft that
they cannot be seen.
I feel mild concern about the bailout light on the instrument panel and
pray that Neeley does not have reason to turn it on. At this altitude I
also feel a sense of insignificance and isolation; earthly concerns seem
trivial. This flight is an epiphany, a life-altering experience.
I cannot detect air noise through the helmet of my pressure suit. I
hear only my own breathing, the hum of avionics through my headset and,
inexplicably, an occasional, shallow moan from the engine, as if it were
gasping for air. Atmospheric pressure is only an inch of mercury, less
than 4 percent of sea-level pressure. Air density and engine power are
similarly low. The stratospheric wind is predictably light, from the
southwest at 5 kt, and the outside air temperature is minus 61 degrees
Celsius.
Neeley says that he has never experienced weather that could not be
topped in a U-2, and I am reminded of the classic transmission made by
John Glenn during Earth orbit in a Mercury space capsule: "Another
thousand feet, and we'll be on top."
Although not required, we remain in contact with Oakland Center while
in the Class E airspace that begins at Flight Level 600. The U-2's Mode C
transponder, however, can indicate no higher than FL600. When other U-2s
are in the area, pilots report their altitudes, and ATC keeps them
separated by 5,000 feet and 10 miles.
Our high-flying living quarters are pressurized to 29,500 feet, but
100-percent oxygen supplied only to our faces lowers our physiological
altitude to about 8,000 feet. A pressurization-system failure would cause
our suits to instantly inflate to maintain a pressure altitude of 35,000
feet, and the flow of pure oxygen would provide a physiological altitude
of 10,000 feet.
The forward and aft cockpits are configured almost identically. A
significant difference is the down-looking periscope/driftmeter in the
center of the forward instrument panel. It is used to precisely track
over specific ground points during reconnaissance, something that
otherwise would be impossible from high altitude. The forward cockpit
also is equipped with a small side-view mirror extending into the air
stream. It is used to determine if the U-2 is generating a telltale
contrail when over hostile territory.
Considering its 103-foot wingspan and resultant roll dampening, the U-2
maneuvers surprisingly well at altitude; the controls are light and
nicely harmonized. Control wheels (not sticks) are used, however, perhaps
because aileron forces are heavy at low altitude. A yaw string (like
those used on sailplanes) above each canopy silently admonishes those who
allow the aircraft to slip or skid when maneuvering. The U-2 is very much
a stick-and-rudder airplane, and I discover that slipping can be avoided
by leading turn entry and recovery with slight rudder pressure.
When approaching its service ceiling, the U-2's maximum speed is little
more than its minimum. This marginal difference between the onset of
stall buffet and Mach buffet is known as coffin corner, an area
warranting caution. A stall/spin sequence can cause control loss from
which recovery might not be possible when so high, and an excessive Mach
number can compromise structural integrity. Thankfully, an autopilot with
Mach hold is provided.
The U-2 has a fuel capacity of 2,915 gallons of thermally stable jet
fuel distributed among four wing tanks. It is unusual to discuss turbine
fuel in gallons instead of pounds, but the 1950s-style fuel gauges in the
U-2 indicate in gallons. Most of the other flight instruments seem
equally antiquated.
I train at 'The Ranch'
Preparation for my high flight began the day before at Beale Air Force
Base (a.k.a. The Ranch), which is north of Sacramento, California, and
was where German prisoners of war were interned during World War II. It
is home to the 9th Reconnaissance Wing, which is responsible for
worldwide U-2 operations, including those aircraft based in Cyprus;
Italy; Saudi Arabia; and South Korea.
After passing a physical exam (whew!), I took a short, intensive course
in high-altitude physiology and use of the pressure suit. The 27-pound
Model S1034 "pilot's protective assembly" is manufactured by David Clark
(the headset people) and is the same as the one used by astronauts during
shuttle launch and reentry.
After being measured for my $150,000 spacesuit, I spent an hour in the
egress trainer. It provided no comfort to learn that pulling up mightily
on the handle between my legs would activate the ejection seat at any
altitude or airspeed. When the handle is pulled, the control wheels go
fully forward, explosives dispose of the canopy, cables attached to spurs
on your boots pull your feet aft, and you are rocketed into space. You
could then free fall in your inflated pressure suit for 54,000 feet or
more. I was told that "the parachute opens automatically at 16,500 feet,
or you get a refund."
I later donned a harness and virtual-reality goggles to practice
steering a parachute to landing. After lunch, a crew assisted me into a
pressure suit in preparation for my visit to the altitude chamber. There
I became reacquainted with the effects of hypoxia and was subjected to a
sudden decompression that elevated the chamber to 73,000 feet. The
pressure suit inflated as advertised and just as suddenly I became the
Michelin man. I was told that it is possible to fly the U-2 while puffed
up but that it is difficult.
A beaker of water in the chamber boiled furiously to demonstrate what
would happen to my blood if I were exposed without protection to ambient
pressure above 63,000 feet.
After a thorough preflight briefing the next morning, Neeley and I put
on long johns and UCDs (urinary collection devices), were assisted into
our pressure suits, performed a leak check (both kinds), and settled into
a pair of reclining lounge chairs for an hour of breathing pure oxygen.
This displaces nitrogen in the blood to prevent decompression sickness
(the bends) that could occur during ascent.
During this "pre-breathing," I felt as though I were in a Ziploc
bag-style cocoon and anticipated the possibility of claustrophobia. There
was none, and I soon became comfortably acclimatized to my confinement.
We were in the aircraft an hour later. Preflight checks completed and
engine started, we taxied to Beale's 12,000-foot-long runway. The single
main landing gear is not steerable, differential braking is unavailable,
and the dual tailwheels move only 6 degrees in each direction, so it
takes a lot of concrete to maneuver on the ground. Turn radius is 189
feet, and I had to lead with full rudder in anticipation of all turns.
We taxied into position and came to a halt so that personnel could
remove the safety pins from the outrigger wheels (called pogos) that
prevent one wing tip or the other from scraping the ground. Lt. Col. Greg
"Spanky" Barber, another U-2 pilot, circled the aircraft in a mobile
command vehicle to give the aircraft a final exterior check.
I knew that the U-2 is overpowered at sea level. It has to be for its
engine, normally aspirated like every other turbine engine, to have
enough power remaining to climb above 70,000 feet. Also, we weighed only
24,000 pounds (maximum allowable is 41,000 pounds) and were departing
into a brisk headwind. Such knowledge did not prepare me for what
followed.
The throttle was fully advanced and would remain that way until the
beginning of descent. The 17,000 pounds of thrust made it feel as though
I had been shot from a cannon. Within two to three seconds and 400 feet
of takeoff roll, the wings flexed, the pogos fell away, and we entered a
nose-up attitude of almost 45 degrees at a best-angle-of-climb airspeed
of 100 kt. Initial climb rate was 9,000 fpm.
We were still over the runway and through 10,000 feet less than 90
seconds from brake release. One need not worry about a flameout after
takeoff in a U-2. There either is enough runway to land straight ahead or
enough altitude (only 1,000 feet is needed) to circle the airport for a
dead-stick approach and landing.
The bicycle landing gear creates little drag and has no limiting
airspeed, so there was no rush to tuck away the wheels. (The landing gear
is not retracted at all when in the traffic pattern shooting touch and
goes.)
We passed through 30,000 feet five minutes after liftoff and climb rate
steadily decreased until above 70,000 feet, when further climb occurred
only as the result of fuel burn.
On final approach
Dragon Lady is still drifting toward the upper limits of the atmosphere
at 100 to 200 fpm and will continue to do so until it is time to descend.
It spends little of its life at a given altitude. Descent begins by
retarding the throttle to idle and lowering the landing gear. We raise
the spoilers, deploy the speed brakes (one on each side of the aft
fuselage), and engage the gust alleviation system. This raises both
ailerons 7.5 degrees above their normal neutral point and deflects the
wing flaps 6.5 degrees upward. This helps to unload the wings and protect
the airframe during possible turbulence in the lower atmosphere.
Gust protection is needed because the Dragon Lady is like a China doll;
she cannot withstand heavy gust and maneuvering loads. Strength would
have required a heavier structure, and the U-2's designer, Clarence
"Kelly" Johnson, shaved as much weight as possible-which is why there are
only two landing gear legs instead of three.. Every pound saved resulted
in a 10-foot increase in ceiling.
With everything possible hanging and extended, the U-2 shows little
desire to go down. It will take 40 minutes to descend to traffic pattern
altitude but we needed only half that time climbing to altitude.
During this normal descent, the U-2 covers 37 nm for each 10,000 of
altitude lost. When clean and at the best glide speed of 109 kt, it has a
glide ratio of 28:1. It is difficult to imagine ever being beyond glide
range of a suitable airport except when over large bodies of water or
hostile territory. Because there is only one fuel quantity gauge, and it
shows only the total remaining, it is difficult to know whether fuel is
distributed evenly, which is important when landing a U-2. A low-altitude
stall is performed to determine which is the heavier wing, and some fuel
is then transferred from it to the other.
We are on final approach with flaps at 35 degrees (maximum is 50
degrees) in a slightly nose-down attitude. The U-2 is flown with a heavy
hand when slow, while being careful not to overcontrol. Speed over the
threshold is only 1.1 VSO (75 kt), very close to stall. More speed would
result in excessive floating.
I peripherally see Barber accelerating the 140-mph, stock Chevrolet
Camaro along the runway as he joins in tight formation with our landing
aircraft. I hear him on the radio calling out our height (standard
practice for all U-2 landings). The U-2 must be close to normal touchdown
attitude at a height of one foot before the control wheel is brought
firmly aft to stall the wings and plant the tailwheels on the concrete.
The feet remain active on the pedals, during which time it is necessary
to work diligently to keep the wings level. A roll spoiler on each wing
lends a helping hand when its respective aileron is raised more than 13
degrees.
The aircraft comes to rest, a wing tip falls to the ground, and crewmen
appear to reattach the pogos for taxiing.
Landing a U-2 is notoriously challenging, especially for those who have
never flown taildraggers or sailplanes. It can be like dancing with a
lady or wrestling a dragon, depending on wind and runway conditions.
Maximum allowable crosswind is 15 kt.
The U-2 was first flown by Tony Levier in August 1955, at Groom Lake
(Area 51), Nevada. The aircraft was then known as Article 341, an
attempt by the Central Intelligence Agency to disguise the secret nature
of its project. Current U-2s are 40 percent larger and much more powerful
than the one in which Francis Gary Powers was downed by a missile over
the Soviet Union on May 1, 1960.
The Soviets referred to the U-2 as the "Black Lady of Espionage"
because of its spy missions and mystique. The age of its design, however,
belies the sophistication of the sensing technology carried within.
During U.S. involvement in Kosovo, for example, U-2s gathered and
forwarded data via satellite to Intelligence at Beale AFB for instant
analysis. The results were sent via satellite to battle commanders, who
decided whether attack aircraft should be sent to the target. In one
case, U-2 sensors detected enemy aircraft parked on a dirt road and
camouflaged by thick, overhanging trees. Only a few minutes elapsed
between detection and destruction. No other nation has this capability.
The U-2 long ago outlived predictions of its demise. It also survived
its heir apparent, the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird. The fleet of 37 aircraft
is budgeted to operate for another 20 years, but this could be affected
by the evolution and effectiveness of unmanned aircraft.
After returning to Earth (physically and emotionally), I am escorted to
the Heritage Room where 20 U-2 pilots join to share in the spirited
celebration of my high flight. Many of them are involved in general
aviation and some have their own aircraft.
The walls of this watering hole are replete with fascinating
memorabilia about U-2 operations and history. Several plaques proudly
list all who have ever soloed Dragon Lady. This group of 670 forms an
elite and unusually close-knit cadre of dedicated airmen.
U-2 Dragon Lady
Maj. Dean Neeley is in the forward, lower cockpit of the Lockheed
U-2ST, a two-place version of the U-2S, a high-altitude reconnaissance
aircraft that the Air Force calls "Dragon Lady.." His voice on the
intercom breaks the silence. "Do you know that you're the highest person
in the world?" He explains that I am in the higher of the two cockpits
and that there are no other U-2s airborne right now. "Astronauts don't
count," he says, "They're out of this world."
We are above 70,000 feet and still climbing slowly as the aircraft
becomes lighter. The throttle has been at its mechanical limit since
takeoff, and the single General Electric F118-GE-101 turbofan engine sips
fuel so slowly at this altitude that consumption is less than when idling
on the ground. Although true airspeed is that of a typical jetliner,
indicated airspeed registers only in double digits.
I cannot detect the curvature of the Earth, although some U-2 pilots
claim that they can. The sky at the horizon is hazy white but transitions
to midnight blue at our zenith. It seems that if we were much higher, the
sky would become black enough to see stars at noon.. The Sierra Nevada,
the mountainous spine of California, has lost its glory, a mere
corrugation on the Earth. Lake Tahoe looks like a fishing hole, and
rivers have become rivulets. Far below, "high flying" jetliners etch
contrails over Reno, Nevada, but we are so high above these aircraft that
they cannot be seen.
I feel mild concern about the bailout light on the instrument panel and
pray that Neeley does not have reason to turn it on. At this altitude I
also feel a sense of insignificance and isolation; earthly concerns seem
trivial. This flight is an epiphany, a life-altering experience.
I cannot detect air noise through the helmet of my pressure suit. I
hear only my own breathing, the hum of avionics through my headset and,
inexplicably, an occasional, shallow moan from the engine, as if it were
gasping for air. Atmospheric pressure is only an inch of mercury, less
than 4 percent of sea-level pressure. Air density and engine power are
similarly low. The stratospheric wind is predictably light, from the
southwest at 5 kt, and the outside air temperature is minus 61 degrees
Celsius.
Neeley says that he has never experienced weather that could not be
topped in a U-2, and I am reminded of the classic transmission made by
John Glenn during Earth orbit in a Mercury space capsule: "Another
thousand feet, and we'll be on top."
Although not required, we remain in contact with Oakland Center while
in the Class E airspace that begins at Flight Level 600. The U-2's Mode C
transponder, however, can indicate no higher than FL600. When other U-2s
are in the area, pilots report their altitudes, and ATC keeps them
separated by 5,000 feet and 10 miles.
Our high-flying living quarters are pressurized to 29,500 feet, but
100-percent oxygen supplied only to our faces lowers our physiological
altitude to about 8,000 feet. A pressurization-system failure would cause
our suits to instantly inflate to maintain a pressure altitude of 35,000
feet, and the flow of pure oxygen would provide a physiological altitude
of 10,000 feet.
The forward and aft cockpits are configured almost identically. A
significant difference is the down-looking periscope/driftmeter in the
center of the forward instrument panel. It is used to precisely track
over specific ground points during reconnaissance, something that
otherwise would be impossible from high altitude. The forward cockpit
also is equipped with a small side-view mirror extending into the air
stream. It is used to determine if the U-2 is generating a telltale
contrail when over hostile territory.
Considering its 103-foot wingspan and resultant roll dampening, the U-2
maneuvers surprisingly well at altitude; the controls are light and
nicely harmonized. Control wheels (not sticks) are used, however, perhaps
because aileron forces are heavy at low altitude. A yaw string (like
those used on sailplanes) above each canopy silently admonishes those who
allow the aircraft to slip or skid when maneuvering. The U-2 is very much
a stick-and-rudder airplane, and I discover that slipping can be avoided
by leading turn entry and recovery with slight rudder pressure.
When approaching its service ceiling, the U-2's maximum speed is little
more than its minimum. This marginal difference between the onset of
stall buffet and Mach buffet is known as coffin corner, an area
warranting caution. A stall/spin sequence can cause control loss from
which recovery might not be possible when so high, and an excessive Mach
number can compromise structural integrity. Thankfully, an autopilot with
Mach hold is provided.
The U-2 has a fuel capacity of 2,915 gallons of thermally stable jet
fuel distributed among four wing tanks. It is unusual to discuss turbine
fuel in gallons instead of pounds, but the 1950s-style fuel gauges in the
U-2 indicate in gallons. Most of the other flight instruments seem
equally antiquated.
I train at 'The Ranch'
Preparation for my high flight began the day before at Beale Air Force
Base (a.k.a. The Ranch), which is north of Sacramento, California, and
was where German prisoners of war were interned during World War II. It
is home to the 9th Reconnaissance Wing, which is responsible for
worldwide U-2 operations, including those aircraft based in Cyprus;
Italy; Saudi Arabia; and South Korea.
After passing a physical exam (whew!), I took a short, intensive course
in high-altitude physiology and use of the pressure suit. The 27-pound
Model S1034 "pilot's protective assembly" is manufactured by David Clark
(the headset people) and is the same as the one used by astronauts during
shuttle launch and reentry.
After being measured for my $150,000 spacesuit, I spent an hour in the
egress trainer. It provided no comfort to learn that pulling up mightily
on the handle between my legs would activate the ejection seat at any
altitude or airspeed. When the handle is pulled, the control wheels go
fully forward, explosives dispose of the canopy, cables attached to spurs
on your boots pull your feet aft, and you are rocketed into space. You
could then free fall in your inflated pressure suit for 54,000 feet or
more. I was told that "the parachute opens automatically at 16,500 feet,
or you get a refund."
I later donned a harness and virtual-reality goggles to practice
steering a parachute to landing. After lunch, a crew assisted me into a
pressure suit in preparation for my visit to the altitude chamber. There
I became reacquainted with the effects of hypoxia and was subjected to a
sudden decompression that elevated the chamber to 73,000 feet. The
pressure suit inflated as advertised and just as suddenly I became the
Michelin man. I was told that it is possible to fly the U-2 while puffed
up but that it is difficult.
A beaker of water in the chamber boiled furiously to demonstrate what
would happen to my blood if I were exposed without protection to ambient
pressure above 63,000 feet.
After a thorough preflight briefing the next morning, Neeley and I put
on long johns and UCDs (urinary collection devices), were assisted into
our pressure suits, performed a leak check (both kinds), and settled into
a pair of reclining lounge chairs for an hour of breathing pure oxygen.
This displaces nitrogen in the blood to prevent decompression sickness
(the bends) that could occur during ascent.
During this "pre-breathing," I felt as though I were in a Ziploc
bag-style cocoon and anticipated the possibility of claustrophobia. There
was none, and I soon became comfortably acclimatized to my confinement.
We were in the aircraft an hour later. Preflight checks completed and
engine started, we taxied to Beale's 12,000-foot-long runway. The single
main landing gear is not steerable, differential braking is unavailable,
and the dual tailwheels move only 6 degrees in each direction, so it
takes a lot of concrete to maneuver on the ground. Turn radius is 189
feet, and I had to lead with full rudder in anticipation of all turns.
We taxied into position and came to a halt so that personnel could
remove the safety pins from the outrigger wheels (called pogos) that
prevent one wing tip or the other from scraping the ground. Lt. Col. Greg
"Spanky" Barber, another U-2 pilot, circled the aircraft in a mobile
command vehicle to give the aircraft a final exterior check.
I knew that the U-2 is overpowered at sea level. It has to be for its
engine, normally aspirated like every other turbine engine, to have
enough power remaining to climb above 70,000 feet. Also, we weighed only
24,000 pounds (maximum allowable is 41,000 pounds) and were departing
into a brisk headwind. Such knowledge did not prepare me for what
followed.
The throttle was fully advanced and would remain that way until the
beginning of descent. The 17,000 pounds of thrust made it feel as though
I had been shot from a cannon. Within two to three seconds and 400 feet
of takeoff roll, the wings flexed, the pogos fell away, and we entered a
nose-up attitude of almost 45 degrees at a best-angle-of-climb airspeed
of 100 kt. Initial climb rate was 9,000 fpm.
We were still over the runway and through 10,000 feet less than 90
seconds from brake release. One need not worry about a flameout after
takeoff in a U-2. There either is enough runway to land straight ahead or
enough altitude (only 1,000 feet is needed) to circle the airport for a
dead-stick approach and landing.
The bicycle landing gear creates little drag and has no limiting
airspeed, so there was no rush to tuck away the wheels. (The landing gear
is not retracted at all when in the traffic pattern shooting touch and
goes.)
We passed through 30,000 feet five minutes after liftoff and climb rate
steadily decreased until above 70,000 feet, when further climb occurred
only as the result of fuel burn.
On final approach
Dragon Lady is still drifting toward the upper limits of the atmosphere
at 100 to 200 fpm and will continue to do so until it is time to descend.
It spends little of its life at a given altitude. Descent begins by
retarding the throttle to idle and lowering the landing gear. We raise
the spoilers, deploy the speed brakes (one on each side of the aft
fuselage), and engage the gust alleviation system. This raises both
ailerons 7.5 degrees above their normal neutral point and deflects the
wing flaps 6.5 degrees upward. This helps to unload the wings and protect
the airframe during possible turbulence in the lower atmosphere.
Gust protection is needed because the Dragon Lady is like a China doll;
she cannot withstand heavy gust and maneuvering loads. Strength would
have required a heavier structure, and the U-2's designer, Clarence
"Kelly" Johnson, shaved as much weight as possible-which is why there are
only two landing gear legs instead of three.. Every pound saved resulted
in a 10-foot increase in ceiling.
With everything possible hanging and extended, the U-2 shows little
desire to go down. It will take 40 minutes to descend to traffic pattern
altitude but we needed only half that time climbing to altitude.
During this normal descent, the U-2 covers 37 nm for each 10,000 of
altitude lost. When clean and at the best glide speed of 109 kt, it has a
glide ratio of 28:1. It is difficult to imagine ever being beyond glide
range of a suitable airport except when over large bodies of water or
hostile territory. Because there is only one fuel quantity gauge, and it
shows only the total remaining, it is difficult to know whether fuel is
distributed evenly, which is important when landing a U-2. A low-altitude
stall is performed to determine which is the heavier wing, and some fuel
is then transferred from it to the other.
We are on final approach with flaps at 35 degrees (maximum is 50
degrees) in a slightly nose-down attitude. The U-2 is flown with a heavy
hand when slow, while being careful not to overcontrol. Speed over the
threshold is only 1.1 VSO (75 kt), very close to stall. More speed would
result in excessive floating.
I peripherally see Barber accelerating the 140-mph, stock Chevrolet
Camaro along the runway as he joins in tight formation with our landing
aircraft. I hear him on the radio calling out our height (standard
practice for all U-2 landings). The U-2 must be close to normal touchdown
attitude at a height of one foot before the control wheel is brought
firmly aft to stall the wings and plant the tailwheels on the concrete.
The feet remain active on the pedals, during which time it is necessary
to work diligently to keep the wings level. A roll spoiler on each wing
lends a helping hand when its respective aileron is raised more than 13
degrees.
The aircraft comes to rest, a wing tip falls to the ground, and crewmen
appear to reattach the pogos for taxiing.
Landing a U-2 is notoriously challenging, especially for those who have
never flown taildraggers or sailplanes. It can be like dancing with a
lady or wrestling a dragon, depending on wind and runway conditions.
Maximum allowable crosswind is 15 kt.
The U-2 was first flown by Tony Levier in August 1955, at Groom Lake
(Area 51), Nevada. The aircraft was then known as Article 341, an
attempt by the Central Intelligence Agency to disguise the secret nature
of its project. Current U-2s are 40 percent larger and much more powerful
than the one in which Francis Gary Powers was downed by a missile over
the Soviet Union on May 1, 1960.
The Soviets referred to the U-2 as the "Black Lady of Espionage"
because of its spy missions and mystique. The age of its design, however,
belies the sophistication of the sensing technology carried within.
During U.S. involvement in Kosovo, for example, U-2s gathered and
forwarded data via satellite to Intelligence at Beale AFB for instant
analysis. The results were sent via satellite to battle commanders, who
decided whether attack aircraft should be sent to the target. In one
case, U-2 sensors detected enemy aircraft parked on a dirt road and
camouflaged by thick, overhanging trees. Only a few minutes elapsed
between detection and destruction. No other nation has this capability.
The U-2 long ago outlived predictions of its demise. It also survived
its heir apparent, the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird. The fleet of 37 aircraft
is budgeted to operate for another 20 years, but this could be affected
by the evolution and effectiveness of unmanned aircraft.
After returning to Earth (physically and emotionally), I am escorted to
the Heritage Room where 20 U-2 pilots join to share in the spirited
celebration of my high flight. Many of them are involved in general
aviation and some have their own aircraft.
The walls of this watering hole are replete with fascinating
memorabilia about U-2 operations and history. Several plaques proudly
list all who have ever soloed Dragon Lady. This group of 670 forms an
elite and unusually close-knit cadre of dedicated airmen.
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