gkainz
Final Approach
got this from a friend today - wish I could appropriately credit the author, as I found it a great read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: 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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Subject: 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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
