SR-71 flyover of Hanoi
 

Amazing Tales of SR-71 Blackbird Plane

I didn’t realize it had flown over Hanoi to let our POW’s know they were not forgotten. Not one but three of them at once. The sound of freedom! :cool:

Like most of the airplane loving geeks on this board I have always thought the SR-71 is the coolest of them all. I have watched many of the interviews of SR-71 pilots and this one is short and very sweet. Very cool.

Wow!

I talked to a POW that stayed at the Hanoi Hilton and he said during one of the bombing runs from the B-52 most of the locals ran TO the prison because they knew we would not bomb it. The same guards that liked to act tough and be total hard cases were peeing their pants in fear of the bombs.

To hear three sonic booms from three SR-71s all at once had to get their attention. No real physical damage was done but it had to terrify the entire city.

Great Story, Back when we liked to send messages.

Boeing History of Flight a month ago.

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I visited the Museum of Flight in Seattle about 3yrs ago. I spent a lot of time around the SR-71. One helluva an aircraft considering when & how it was built & is still awe inspiring to this day. Everything from the materials used in constructing the airframe, to the engines - the 'whole nine yards' was basically designed from scratch. Just amazing - & OBTW, the rest of the museum is very worthwhile visiting if you're ever in the area. I plan on going again soon seeing as it is (relatively speaking) in my backyard. Thanks for the vid Glen.

Edit: I just noticed the P &W J58 engine that was on display (port side) doesn't appear visible in your photo - Has it been moved elsewhere or is it just the angle of the photo hiding it?

Cheers
JB

Paraphrasing from his book Sled Driver... SR-71 pilot Brian Shul has one cool story about returning from flying over Libya. Apparently he boomed it when Gadhafi was on stage ranting tough-guy anti-American warrior rhetoric .. Boom - Gadhafi hits the deck ... Shul got back in time to see it on the news.

Thread inspired me to google sr71 stories. It's got some length, but just as much substance.

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 asked Center for a readout 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. "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 readout? 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.

The ONLY thing that would have made that story better - would to have been sitting in a bar and drinking a beer while hearing it! Well done (and written) JD!

Sub'd - inadvertently "unsubscribed"

The Blackbird at the Boeing Museaum of Flight is actually an M-21 variant designed to launch the D-21 drones. It is the only survivor out of two built.

From habu.org the coolest blackbird site on the web, they have the history of every blackbird tail numbers, A-12, YF-12, M-21 and Sr-71... and lots of great pics:

www.habu.org - 06940 - Blackbird Photo Archive


Awesome video btw!

Very COOL

Totally cool story.

Now, we would loiter stealth drones over Hanoi and steer missiles through Ho Chi Minh's bedroom windows. Not as cool, but still pretty cool.

Now today in this PO type world, King O has stated he will not tolerate loud noises, don't make anyone upset and lets just get along.

I saw the Boeing SR-71 on some flatbed trucks as they were heading to the museum. The plane was in three large parts if I recollect accurately. They stopped in Wilsonville, OR for a little amusement of the locals. It was spectacular to look at the internal construction as well as the external. Sort of a high-point for me.

Coolest plane ever.

I love how parts of the plane surfaces are not perfect and you can even see rivets in some places.
Apparently they leak fuel until they "warm up".

McMinnville?

There's some cool stuff (not just the 71) there.

That plane is amazing. I'd give my left nut for a couple of hours of flight time in one.

No leaking of fuel, a common misconception I learned this past summer from the SR.-71 display in Mobile,AL. Turns out the driver of that sled was a native of the great state of Alabama and on his death bed told his wife all the details of his work. The planes were never fully loaded with fuel while on the ground because it would have been too heavy to take off. How much gas is that you are asking? Try 2 semi truck taker fulls is the total amount too gas a SR 71 can hold.

Any actual sources for that? Because I've read in multiple places that because of the extreme heat associated with flying at the edge of the atmosphere at Mach 3+, they were required to build them "loose" at ambient temperature to allow for adequate surface expansion.

They definitely leaked fuel for the reasons explained by onewhippedpuppy above. There was a certain acceptable tolerance for these leaks literally measured in drips per hour. Anything over the tolerance would require the aircraft to pulled apart and the offending tank would be resealed. It wasn't something any maintenance personel were fond of because the process was messy and the results were limited at best.

The leaking is shown at about the 3:06 mark in this clip:

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Incorrect again:

Blackbirds Myth & Fact

The SR-71 could and did take off with full tanks. That was not normal procedure, that's all.

This picture says it all about leaks or no-leaks.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/97/Lockheed_SR-71_Blackbird.jpg

They also stopped in Ridgfield, WA. You bet your azz I was there.:D

Awesome aircraft. My dad was an aerospace engineer in the 60s and we were invited to several SR71 demonstrations after it was declassified in the late 70s. Quite a show and yes they leaked fuel all over the place.

Fuel leak when cold was the result of not being able to find a sealant flexible enough (and reliable enough) to work long term throughout the temperature range.

It was monitored and when it became too bad the tanks were striped and resealed...

The top off after take off was simply a cost saving measure... less stress on the tyres and also less stress on the brakes if T/O needed to be rejected.

As tanker support was always needed during the CIA/ USAF operations of the A12/SR-71, it made sense.

When NASA flew them in the 1990s after the 'first retirement' they used full fuel take offs as they did not have tanker support at Edwards. They also used full fuel when they had the YF-12A and the 'YF-12C' on their books in the 1970s

One of the designers of the SR-71 and now a lead designer/engineer at The Spaceship Company flew up to Seattle, bought my RF5B glider and flew it back to Mojave a couple of weeks ago. An interesting guy with interesting stories.

That would have to be the understatement of the year. ;)

Burt Rutan is the lead designer on SpaceShipTwo, isn't he? He is too young to be have been involved in the design of the SR-71 which was started way back in 1960. That was 54 years ago. Kelly Johnson was the lead designer. I would think anyone having a major role in designing the SR-71 would be in their 80's now....

I remembered the below from a post here years ago:



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 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 fly-past. 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 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 fly-past. 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 fly-past 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 plan form 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 fly-past 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.

That's Scaled Composites.

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I remember seeing an SR-71 (while they were still operational) at an Edwards AFB open house many years ago. It was parked in a hanger, on display, roped off and with an armed guard nearby. Dripping fuel.

The SR-71 is just fascinating, I really hope our greatest, manned aeronautical achievements (SR-71, Apollo, Space Shuttle, etc.) aren't all behind us.

Kurt, that is the nature of pioneering – once you're there, you're there.

everything now is a derivative from that era.

For example, Spaceship One, that won the X-prize, was essentially a re-creation of the X–15 program of 50 years ago; where a large winged mother ship launches a rocket-plane from 50,000 feet.

I've always been fascinated by this plane. I took this photo in 1981 at Barksdale AFB. It flew in at very high speed over the base. Reportedly went all the way to Georgia to slow down and turn around to return.

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That is actually an SR71B trainer

Perhaps, I'd just like to think that we have an even more capable spy plane that replaced the SR-71 that we don't know about. Not UAVs or satellites, manned spy planes.

We may be there but it doesn't mean we shouldn't keep pushing the boundaries.

Why do we need a manned spy plane if we can do the job with UAVs or satellites?

Do we "need" a manned spy plane? Probably not. Safer for a variety of reasons, politically for sure.

I'm a pilot, I like the thought of some guy (or gal) at the controls of a high performance machine at the cutting edge of technology.

I believe the SR-71 offered some capabilities still not matched today, though.

For the same reason we didn't need guns on F-4's in Vietnam.

So, I take it you didn't like when the Iranians took control of one of our stealth drones and brought it down for a landing.

Enter the autonomous machines to our brave new world.

Google's machine

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/gif/2014/...152b55d564.gif

Must be nice to play with crazy money. (OPM)