U2 (U.S.!) Forwardment

The following write-up/e-mail came to me from a fellow soaring club
member, and is verbatim below the dashed line. I've no idea of its
provenance, either, but to me it has the ring of truth about it, and it
may be of interest to fellow glider pilots.

Regards,
Bob W.
- - - - - -


Subject: Fw: Fw: Lockheed U-2 ride

Don't know who wrote this, but it is interesting

Subject: Lockheed U-2 ride


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.
- - - - - -

I'd be willing to bet it is Joan Lunden's report. She did a special on,
Dateline, or 60 Minutes, one of the news shows a couple of years ago.
They ran her through the assembly line training for a passenger hop in
the U-2. It was a good presentation.


Bob Whelan wrote:
The following write-up/e-mail came to me from a fellow soaring club
member, and is verbatim below the dashed line. I've no idea of its
provenance, either, but to me it has the ring of truth about it, and it
may be of interest to fellow glider pilots.

Regards,
Bob W.
- - - - - -


Subject: Fw: Fw: Lockheed U-2 ride

Don't know who wrote this, but it is interesting

Subject: Lockheed U-2 ride


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.
- - - - - -

Thanks for forwarding that Bob.
This is impressive:
"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."

Shawn

The thing that struck me this time reading this account was the yaw
string.. Hmmm. a 500mph yaw string? Must be really sticky tape!



Larry

"01" USA

01-- Zero One wrote:
The thing that struck me this time reading this account was the yaw
string…. Hmmm… a 500mph yaw string? Must be really sticky tape!

TAS, but IAS is much much lower. Nevertheless, I hear they use them on
F-14s too.

Shawn

Nevertheless, I hear they use them on
F-14s too.


Maverick and Iceman both had yaw strings on their Tomcats

Come on, guys! Tell us how they were attached.

At 23:18 26 January 2006, Stewart Kissel wrote:
Nevertheless, I hear they use them on
F-14s too.


Maverick and Iceman both had yaw strings on their Tomcats

Nyal Williams wrote:
Come on, guys! Tell us how they were attached.

And what material they were made of


At 23:18 26 January 2006, Stewart Kissel wrote:
Nevertheless, I hear they use them on
F-14s too.

Maverick and Iceman both had yaw strings on their Tomcats

You gotta ask Viper or Jester.

F-4s had a yaw string too. There is a small hole in the top skin in
front of the canopy that the string is threaded into, and tied off
inside the airframe. I seem to recall it looked like parachute riser
cord with a knot at the end - but don't hold me to that, I was just a
WSO. Any old F-4 crewchiefs out there know more about this?

Funny thing is, while just about every F-4 I got into had a white (or
black, depending on the camouflage) stripe at the location of the yaw
string, most of the jets (these were USAF F-4Es in the 70-80s) no
longer had the string installed. I think after they wore off or got
too short to be useful, no one bothered to replace them. And there was
no mention of the yaw string in the flight manual, oddly enough. Not
high tech enough for the Air Force, probably!

Kirk
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