by Jim Carter
My cardiac catherization was pretty painless but it was stressful. My flying future was on the line and I wanted resounding proof that my heart was disease free. They inserted a catheter into my right inguinal artery. The tube was threaded up into my heart while the doctor and I monitored its progress on a screen. Once in the heart, they pumped dye through the catheter to get a good view of the coronary arteries. The attending doctor declared my heart to be in perfect condition. I was back baby!
Chapter 4
During this whole medical process my family had remained in Selma trying to sell our house. We needed to move regardless of what assignment I received. With San Antonio in my rearview mirror, I made a brief stop at home before flying on to Beale to complete the evaluation process.
The selection process for the U-2 was markedly different than for any other airplane assignment in the Air Force. First of all, it was a “special duty” assignment. For normal assignments, a pilot would fill out an aircraft and base request, commonly referred to as a “dream sheet.” This dream sheet listed the airplanes and bases he wanted. The administrators at the Military Personnel Center would choose a base and an airplane, and then send you the results. The pilot had little control over the process. For example, you may have requested an F-4 fighter at MacDill AFB, Florida but you got a B-52 to Minot AFB, North Dakota. To get a special duty assignment, one had to request a slot directly from the unit you wanted to join. If they liked your record, they would invite you out for an evaluation and interview.
The U-2 program called about 10 % of all qualified applicants out for an interview. Of those called out, about 10 % were accepted into the program after their medical condition and flying skills were evaluated. I was now cleared medically but I still had to demonstrate that I could fly this beast.
The flying evaluation for the U-2 is like none other in the world. Most military aircraft and civilian airlines have simulators for training and candidate evaluation. The U-2 had no simulator. Its flying characteristics are so unique; no simulator could ever duplicate them. To become a pilot in this squadron, you had to demonstrate your ability in the airplane, no simulator warm-ups allowed. For years, there were only single seat U-2s available. The candidate would be thoroughly briefed by an instructor on how to fly the airplane. This interview style resulted in two aircraft accidents. They weren’t fatal but the airplanes were damaged. The Air Force decided to find a better way to evaluate U-2 candidates, so they consulted with Lockheed. They took the wrecked airplanes and redesigned them, adding a second cockpit behind the flying pilot. Now an instructor could ride along and prevent the candidate from killing himself and/or wrecking the airplane.
The flying evaluation consisted of one, two, or three flights. If the first flight was really bad and the pilot decided he wanted nothing to do with this airplane, then the evaluation was over and the pilot went home. If the first flight was bad and the pilot wanted to try again, he was given a second ride. If the second ride went well, a third ride tiebreaker was given. However, if the second ride was also bad, the candidate was sent home. If both the first and second rides were good, the pilot was in.
The U-2 evaluation is taken in the “C” model, which has a wingspan of 80 feet. Most airplanes, like the T-38 with a wingspan of 25 feet, have landing gear in a tricycle configuration with one wheel in front and two in back. To save weight, the U-2 was set up like a bicycle with a bigger wheel in front and a smaller one (6 inches) in back. Landing an airplane with this gigantic wingspan is like riding on a tightrope at 90 m.p.h. When on the ground, the huge wings were supported with curved metal mini wing struts called pogos. These struts had a wheel on one end and a metal fitting on the other end. They were attached to the underside of the wings with the fittings at the midpoint of the wing. The pogos kept the wings from scraping the ground during taxi. During takeoff, as soon as the wings developed lift (about 50 knots), the pogos fell out onto the runway. The mobile crew retrieved them and placed them back under the wings after the airplane cleared the runway after landing.
The large wingspan and engine thrust combination made each landing an adventure. The airplane had to be landed in a full stall with the main strut one or two feet above the runway. Landing an airplane this way went against every instinct I possessed. In every other airplane, I would fly down to the runway, gradually decrease power, and then touch down. To make a good U-2 landing, you need to fly down to the runway, throttle back, and then hold the airplane off the ground until it stalled and fell to the runway. My instructor described it as landing a footlocker on the runway, dropped in from two feet. It had to be done this way for two reasons. If you brought the airplane down to the runway without stalling, it would bounce off the runway and leap back into the air. Even with idle thrust, the tremendous lift from the giant wings forced the airplane to keep flying. If on the other hand, you stalled too high (above 2 feet), you risked pushing the main strut up through the fuel tank. So it had to be just right every time. Adding to this complexity were the flight controls. The aircraft had no hydraulics, so operating the flight controls was totally manual. Normal airplanes have hydraulically operated flight controls, usually rated at 3,000 PSI, making them easy to move. Flying the U-2 was like driving a Cadillac with no power steering. Now I would have something in common with those Russian AN-12 pilots — no hydraulics.
To fly the airplane, a yoke was used instead of a stick. The yoke came out of the floor up between the pilot’s legs. This yoke took up space in an already cramped cockpit. When I sat in the airplane with the canopy closed, only my hand could fit between the top of my helmet and the canopy. If I raised my elbows up and out, I could touch the sides of the cockpit. The nose of the airplane was especially long. In the landing attitude, you could not see out the front of the airplane. You had to constantly look from side to side to remain aligned with the runway, a skill I had learned on my no flap landings in the T-38.
The airplane was crosswind intolerant. If the crosswind exceeded 10 knots, you had to divert to another airport. In a crosswind, airplanes land using either a ‘wing low’, or a ‘crab’ technique. These two techniques are used to keep the airplane centered on the runway when the wind is trying to push you left or right of the centerline. In a normal airplane, using the wing low technique, for a right crosswind, the pilot lines up the airplane fuselage with the centerline using a combination of rightwing down and left rudder. Using the crab technique, the wings are level and the airplane is turned into the wind to prevent drift. With its long wingspan, the U-2 could not use the wing low technique because of the risk of dragging the low wing before touchdown. Landing the U-2 in a crosswind required using the crab technique with one important caveat — you had to be aligned with the runway centerline on touchdown. If you were cocked off, the airplane would instantly align itself on touchdown and possibly snap the steering control on the tail wheel. When this happened you were essentially riding a 50-foot long unicycle that automatically turned into the wind.
Chapter 5
My first ride in the airplane happened on a beautiful September morning in 1977. Beale AFB sits in the Sierra Nevada foothills northeast of Sacramento. The countryside around the airport is stunningly beautiful. The airport has a single 10,000-foot runway. We taxied out to the runway using the taxiway that led us to the center of the runway. This left 5,000 feet available for takeoff. The instructor said he would demo the first takeoff. I was grateful because I had never seen anything remotely like this before. He released the brakes and pushed the throttle to full power. The airplane quickly accelerated, and just as quickly the wings flexed up and the pogos fell out. We accelerated a bit more and the nose started to rise, quickly. A normal airplane’s nose will rise to about 10 to 15 degrees above the horizon on takeoff. This one was at 20 degrees, and continuing to 25 degrees, 30 degrees, 35 degrees, 40 degrees, and 45 degrees. This was ridiculous. It finally settled at 45 degrees and stayed there as the runway fell away below us. By the end of the runway (5000 feet), our altimeter was
reading 10,000 feet. I had to double-check it but there it was, 10,000 feet and climbing.
We continued our climb to 20,000 feet and leveled off to do some air work. I needed to get a feel for the airplane throughout its speed range. Since there are no hydraulics aiding the flight controls, the airplane felt very different at high speed versus low speed. The airplane responded quickly and easily at high speed. When we slowed down to traffic pattern speed, the effort to move the flight controls dramatically increased. This big Cadillac with wings and no power steering would take some getting used to.
The key to flying any airplane precisely is proper trim control. Trim tabs are small, moveable control surfaces on the wings, rudder and elevator. Controls in the cockpit allow the pilot to move the trim tabs keeping the airplane in balance throughout its speed range. The pilot’s goal is to fly the airplane in a certain attitude and speed through proper trim. Ideally, you want to trim for that certain speed, and be able to take your hands off the controls while the airplane remains where you put it.
Cruising along at 250 knots, neutralizing the controls would take some nose down trim. As the airplane slows down to traffic pattern speeds, nose up trim is required. If you leave the airplane trimmed for high speed and then slow down, the nose pitches down trying to maintain the speed it was trimmed for. Proper trimming was especially vital in the U-2. If the airplane was out of trim for a desired speed, you were constantly fighting to keep the airplane where you wanted it.
My instructor took control of the airplane to show me what a typical landing pattern looked like. The first thing required prior to landing was to balance the fuel. The U-2 had three fuel tanks: a center tank and a tank in each wing. Each wing had a five-gallon per minute transfer pump that ported fuel out of the wing into the center tank. The only fuel gauge in the cockpit was a totalizer that showed the total gallons of fuel used. The pilot had no easy way to tell where his fuel was; but you did have to balance it before landing.
In order to determine the balance, the pilot stalled the aircraft. Prior to reaching his destination, the pilot had to slow the airplane down, and then stall it. When the airplane stalled, you noticed which wing fell first. This was the heavier wing since it held more fuel. The next step was to turn on the transfer pump for that wing and balance the fuel. You could tell a seasoned U-2 pilot by looking at his airplane after he landed and cleared the runway. If he had balanced properly, the airplane would sit upright with both wingtips off the ground. An unbalanced airplane would be sitting with one wingtip touching the ground and the other in the air.
Before returning to the Beale airport, my instructor led me through a simulated traffic pattern and landing. At 20,000 feet, the instructor slowed down, the airplane shuttered and stalled with the wings level. Our fuel was balanced. He then accelerated, trimmed the airplane for 90 knots, and rolled into a 45-degree bank to the left. On the simulated downwind, he configured with gear and flaps, holding the 90 knots. From here we started our simulated final turn. We had decided that our imaginary runway was at 18,500 feet. When we reached that altitude, the power came back, the nose came up, and we slowed but held the altitude. Soon the aircraft shook and dropped; definitely NOT your normal landing. I tried this maneuver a couple of times. Now it was time to return to Beale and try some actual landings.
The normal U-2 traffic pattern was an overhead, racetrack pattern. From three miles out, we’d line up on the runway at 1500 feet above the ground doing 90 knots. Once over the runway, the pilot initiated a 45-degree banked turn and then configured with gear and flaps (still at 90 knots). At the appropriate spot on the downwind leg, the final turn was initiated with the goal being able to arrive over the end of the runway with the main gear six to ten feet in the air still doing 90 knots and aligned with the center of the runway.
Another U-2 pilot in a chase car (known as a Mobile) monitored every U-2 landing. The chase car, an El Camino, sat on the side of the runway entrance waiting for the airplane. As the airplane came over the end of the runway, the chase car accelerated to match the airplane’s speed. The chase car pilot called out the main gear altitudes starting at ten feet through touchdown. In addition to the chase car, at Beale, all landings were videotaped and reviewed by the pilots and the operations staff at the end of the day. When you became a pilot in this squadron, you checked your ego at the door. Everybody looked at the tapes and everyone could, and usually did, criticize a poor landing. It was a humbling experience even for the most seasoned pilots. We learned from it and it did improve performance.
The first landing attempt was an instructor demo. Just like we had done out in the area, he brought the airplane down over the runway and then we heard the chase car start his countdown: 10 feet, 8 feet, 4 feet, 2 feet; then a shudder and the airplane settled onto the runway. It was an impressive first landing and two aspects of it struck me. First, the nose was way up in the air. I expected nose high but not this high. I couldn’t see anything in front of the airplane. Like the man told me, I had to look from side to side to stay aligned with the runway until touchdown when the nose settled. Second, I had to consciously fight my instincts. Everything I had learned previously about landing airplanes told me to lower the nose and let the airplane land. On this airplane, if I did that before it was ready, it would just bounce and take off again.
Now it was my turn. I took over after takeoff and we flew around the pattern. The airplane seemed like it had a mind of its own, I wanted it to go one way but it had other ideas. “Trim, trim, trim” the instructor said, and I did. Once I had it properly trimmed for 90 knots, things came easier. I brought it around the final turn and lined up on the centerline. The wind was light that day so I didn’t have to worry about a crosswind. We came across the threshold and the countdown started: “10 feet, 6 feet, 4 feet” called the chase car. “Don’t let it touch” my instructor said, so I held it off. “Two feet” said the chase car. Then it shuttered, sank, and we hit the runway.
The nose fell and I could see again. So we went around and did some more. I ended up with six landings that day. None of them perfect, but all safe and acceptable. After the flight my instructor debriefed me. We reviewed my landing videos along with the Operations Officer, and three other squadron pilots. Everyone offered his comments, both good and bad, but overall it appeared that I did okay.
They set me up with another ride. The second ride went off the following afternoon. The temperature was in the low 90’s with about a five-knot crosswind.
Because of its massive wing area, the U-2 is seriously affected by thermals. These are columns of rising air created by uneven heating of the ground from solar radiation. The sun warms the ground, which in turn, warms the air directly above it. Encountering a thermal in a normal airplane causes turbulence, a rough ride. A U-2 encountering a thermal is another story. When the U-2 meets a strong thermal it feels like the airplane is riding up an express elevator. When that rising column of air meets all that wing area, things happen fast. If the pilot doesn’t react immediately, the airplane starts climbing, rapidly. This is not a problem when you’re in a climb. But in the traffic pattern, when you’re 200 feet above the ground trying to hit that six to ten foot window over the end of the runway, it can ruin the whole day.
Immediate corrective action is required. This point was drummed into my head during those flights and briefings. Put the airplane where you want it. Fly the airplane; don’t let it fly you. This was the true secret to flying this or any other airplane. When the thermal started pushing you up, you forced the bird back down.
I was thoroughly briefed on this before I flew but I had to see it to believe it. I made the initial takeoff and we proceeded out to the local area to do some basic airwork again. We hit a couple of thermals on climb out but I made a small correction and continued the climb. The basic area work went well so we headed back to the traffic pattern. The instructor demoed the first landing. We did encounter some thermal activity in the final turn and on short final approach. He pointed this out, m
ade the corrections required, and made a nice landing. Now it was my turn. Most of the traffic pattern was normal. We hit a couple of big bumps in the final turn but corrected and continued on. Everything looked wired when I got down on short final approach about 300 feet off the ground. Then we hit a thermal. The airplane started up, quite rapidly. I made a correction but not nearly big or aggressive enough to stop the climb. Within mere seconds we were out of the landing window.
I elected to go around and flew a wide, extended pattern so we could discuss what just happened. But I knew what had happened and I was determined not to repeat it. On the next attempt, we bumped around the final turn and rolled out on final in perfect position. This time the thermal hit about 100 feet higher than the last time but I was ready. I aggressively pushed the airplane back down to the glide path adjusting the throttle to keep the airspeed right at 90 knots. This time we were able to land. Because of the crosswind I did land in a slight crab. I thought my instructor was going to come through the Plexiglas separating the front and rear cockpits and gnaw my head off. Jesus H. Christ, I thought. I beat the thermal, made the landing, and he’s still reaming me a new asshole. We talked about that for a while. I had learned my lesson. EVERY landing had to be done just right every time. Speed had to be exact, altitude over the end of the runway precise, and crab, none allowed. We did six more and I had found my groove, all good landings, and no crab. When that flight was over I was sure of two things. I had made the program, and I was completely wrung out, exhausted, and sweat-soaked.
