SR-71 Story

[CSpaced]

This is some great stuff, my buddy just emailed it to me.



Written by Brian Schul - former sled (SR-71 Blackbird) driver

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, 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.

[Dan B]

I had the honor to meet and talk with Brian Shul at the Reno Air Races a couple of years ago. His books on the SR 71 are INCREDIBLE! Even more incredible is his perseverence to get back to flight staus after his crash. Here is a short clip of his biography.

Brian was born in Quantico, Virginia in 1948. He was the son of a career Marine, growing up in military environment. He attended high school in Hawaii, and graduated from East Carolina University with a degree in History. In 1970 he joined the Air Force and attended pilot training, receiving his wings at Reese AFB, Texas. He was sent to the air war in Vietnam as a Foreign Air Advisor, flying close air support missions in conjunction with Air America. He flew 212 missions in fighter aircraft and near the very end of the war, was shot down near the Cambodian border. Unable to eject, he was forces to ride the crippled aircraft into the jungle, and miraculously survived the crash. Severely injured in the ensuing fireball, he somehow was able himself from the burning wreckage and crawl from the downed plane. Badly burned in the process, he lay incapacitated in the jungle, thought to have perished in the crash by those who witnessed it. Several hours later he was found by Special Forces soldiers, who called a rescue helicopter to the site. He was flown back to Thailand, and then evacuated to a larger burn hospital on Okinawa, where he was expected to die. After 2 months in intensive care, he was stable enough to be moved to Ft Sam Houston, Texas, to the military burn center. Brian spent one year in the hospital. He underwent 15 major operations and was told his flying days were definitely over. Determined to return to flying, he began an accelerated physical program. He was able to pass a flight physical, and two days after his release from the hospital, he was back flying Air Force jets. Brian went on to fly the A-7D, was a flight instructor and air show demonstration pilot in the A-10, and was a senior instructor at the Air Force’s Top Gun School in the F-5B. In his final flying assignment in the Air Force, he was selected to fly the super secret spy plane, the SR-71. Only 152 men have ever flown that jet, and Brian was able to pass an astronaut-type physical to qualify for that prestigious program. During his tour in the blackbird, he and his backseater flew the reconnaissance missions over Libya during the bombing of Kadaffy in 1986. After 20 years and 5000 hours of fighter jet time, Brian retired from the Air Force in 1990. He went on to pursue his writing and photographic interests.

Amazing guy!
Dan

[JEFFRO503]

Man..that was one awesome story! Jeez......1900 knots! That is screaming! Hehehe.......funny how the navy guy didn't respond back after that HAHA!! I couldn't even imagine traveling at those speeds......man what a job!

[Radioactive]

Gang. we've had the honor of meeting one of USA's many Heros, his Zest for life is unreal! His Books, and Stories are Riveting! Proud to say he's touched our families life as well! Full Salutes to You Brian!!!

[dmichael]

Here's Walt:
http://www.excaliburrd.com/advisory/watson.aspx

Here's Brian:
http://www.excaliburrd.com/advisory/shul.aspx

[dubd]

Great story! Brian Shul's career is inspirational. As a kid I lived on Beale AFB (1986-1988) where the SR-71 was stationed. It was always a treat to see the Blackbird taking off during summer evenings. Watching the plane rotate off the ground with its twin flames trailing behind really left an impression on me.

[Jamieman]

That will leave a smile on my face for the rest of the day!

[zoomer260]

Cracked me up !! I even made the ole' lady listen to me tell the story !

[wizard]

In a similar situation, my brother Phil relates this story from 1985:

While flying a cross country mission in a T-37 with a German student pilot, there were several transmissions requesting ground speeds with replies of steadily increasing velocities. Apparently those proud pilots had favorable tail winds at the various cruising altitudes. Upon hearing the numerous increases in ground speed reports, Phil slowed the tweety bird to 70 knots indicated and then queried center for his ground speed. Center replied, with "50 knots". You could hear a few snickers over the radio, a jet flying at 50 knots ground speed. It was then that my brother said "Negative, make that a negative 50 knots". He was heading directly in the bottom of a jet stream with a speed of 120 knots, backwards over the ground, a rare feat for a jet aircraft! The German student probably talks about his flying backwards to this very day.

[stormin23]

Love this story

There are a couple of great quotes from this book that just make you think how cool it would be to actually fly one of these birds!!

There was another one where he asked for clearance to 60,000 thousand feet and the contoller rebuked what makes you think you can get that high. The reply was somthing like "ah no we would like to desend to 60,000"

What a hoot!!

[RMaia]

The SR-71, along with the XB-70, is one of my favorite aircrafts of all time.... Great plane, outstanding design, awesome performance, really innovative methods and ideas... A real engineering marvel.

[Kinger]

The Blackbird is my favorite AF jet of all time. When you look at it, it just SCREAMS sexy.