Groundspeed.

[John Baker]

I saw this on another forum, the person who posted it also saw it on another forum, probably this one. I'm taking a chance and posting it anyway.

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Written by Brian Schul - former sled (SR-71 Blackbird) driver[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.[/FONT]

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

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

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]airspace.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: "November Charlie 175,[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One,[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " Houston Center[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]voice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did.[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in,[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.[/FONT]

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

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done -[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke:[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]"Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?"[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]request. "Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]forty-two knots, across the ground."[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation,[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]fighter-pilot-like voice: "Ah, Center, much thanks, we're showing[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]closer to nineteen hundred on the money."[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, "Roger[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]boys have a good one."[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]frequency all the way to the coast.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]================================================== ================[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]This is an excerpt from one of author Brian Schul's books:[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Sled Driver : Flying the World's Fastest Jet.[/FONT]

[FONT=Verdana, Arial]Brian Schul, is a retired U. S. Air Force fighter pilot who was[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]severely burned in the crash of an AT-28 working on a clandestine[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]mission in Laos. He not only survived, but came back on flight status[/FONT]
[FONT=Verdana, Arial]to fly again and serve as an A-10 and SR-71 pilot.[/FONT]




__________________

John

 

[John Lowrey]

I was hoping to hear Cap. Kirk pop up and ask for a GC...

 

[flyingcheesehead]

An oldie, but a goodie.

 

[BillTIZ]

Because I fly
I laugh more than other men.
I look up and see more than they.
​

I know how the clouds feel,
What it's like to have the blue in
my lap,
to look down
on birds,
to feel freedom in a thing called
the stick ...
Who but I
can slice between God's
billowed legs,
and feel then laugh and crash
with His step?
Who else has seen the
unlimbed peaks?
The rainbow's secret?
The real reason birds sing?

Because I Fly,
I envy no man on earth.

http://www.war-stories.com/poem-shul-because-i-fly-1977-1.asp​

 

[Ted]

I always like that story every time I read it. Thanks for sharing.

 

[el con]

Too bad the Space Shuttle didn't call in. Even the SR 71 would have to step a side for that one,what 17,000 mph?
And to bring it back around,I'd bet they all started flying with something like the guy in the little Cessna.
My instructor asked me ,why do you always throttle back and fly slow.
Well I said ,"I just get more hours that way" The more I get to fly, the better I like it.

 

[John Baker]

It's frustrating on windy days, flying back into San Diego following U.S.8 from the desert, looking down and seeing the traffic going faster than you are. Especially with them climbing up the mountain and all.

John