The SR-71 spy plane, the most advanced member of the Blackbird family that included the A-12 and YF-12, was designed by a team of Lockheed personnel led by Clarence “Kelly” Johnson, then vice president of Lockheed’s Advanced Development Company Projects, commonly known as the “Skunk Works” and now a part of Lockheed Martin. The Blackbird completed its first flight on Dec. 22, 1964.
The SR-71 was designed to cruise at “Mach 3+,” just over three times the speed of sound or more than 2,200 miles per hour and at altitudes up to 85,000 feet.
Frags (from the Vietnam War-era term of “fragging,” or “frags” for short, to indicate a practical joke) were part of SR-71 Blackbird crew members (or Habus)’ traditions.
Oscar’s Balls—flown over 70,000 feet in a U-2
Former Blackbird pilot Richard H. Graham recalls a very special frag that took place at Kadena Air Base (AB), Okinawa, Japan, home of Sr-71 Det. 1.
‘Habus once fragged the 9th SRW/Det 2, our sister U-2 detachment located at Osan, Korea. Det 2 crews and personnel were known as the “Blackcats” and wore a U-2 patch depicting a black cat. They also had a Det 2 mascot, a black male cat called, Oscar. For Oscar to be the true Det mascot they flew him on a U-2 mission in one of the empty mission bays. After the flight he became crazed and was never the same again. They decided to have Oscar castrated to see if that would calm him down. At the Det’s request, the vet saved Oscar’s testicles, where they were proudly displayed in a glass jar in Operations for all to see. The inscription on the out-side of the jar read, “Oscar’s Balls—flown over 70,000 feet in a U-2.”’
Colonel Tom Alison describes what happened next.
‘The frag of Det 2 concerning “Oscar’s Balls” occurred in early December, 1978, and JT [JT Vida was Alison’s RSO] and I were the crew involved. It was the only time we ever had to divert/land away on a GIANT SCALE mission and occurred on a night sortie over the DMZ when we had a generator failure. We only had two land aways in over 120 operational sorties and six years (speaks highly of the jet). We diverted into Osan AB, Korea, at night, and the folks at Det 2 were extremely helpful in getting us settled.
Spying the jar with “Oscar’s Balls”
‘The recovery team arrived the next morning, and the fairly routine generator replacement was accomplished, and everything looked good for an early morning departure the next day, which was a Saturday. JT and I had decided that, if at all possible, a frag was in order and had talked about what would be appropriate. The Det 2 Commander at the time was Lt. Col. Doyle Krumery. He had a large beautiful desk in his office that he was very proud of. With the help of a couple of crew chiefs, we entered the Det offices later that night and very carefully moved the prized desk into a shower stall in the PSD area. Not a scratch… we were very proud of ourselves!
‘On the way out of the Det we spied the jar with “Oscar’s Balls” prominently displayed in the operations area. It was perfect. JT put the jar in a helmet bag and stowed it in the rear cockpit early the next morning. Since it was a Saturday and no Det 2 flying was scheduled, all the U-2 people slept in and no one had gotten to the Det to discover the jar with Oscar’s balls was missing. All the way through engine start, taxi, and takeoff we expected to hear a radio call to come back immediately until the missing items were found. As it turned out, the desk in the shower caused so much of an uproar that Oscar was overlooked. I think our maintenance people even got loaded on the tanker and headed back to Kadena before the “the real frag” was discovered.
“Oscar’s Balls—flown Mach 3+ in an SR-71”
‘On our way back to Kadena, which was a “hot” flight, we decided how we were going to put the finishing touches on our frag. When we arrived back at Det 1, we got together with Chuck Weithoff the SAS/autopilot technical representative, and a good friend. He fried two chicken hearts until they were just two little black, hard things, and then we took a needle and some dark thread and wove a short strand between the fried chicken hearts.
‘It was rather easy to get another jar that was the same as the one that held the precious cargo. After filling the jar with water (I don’t know what was in the jar with “Oscar’s Balls”—we never had the courage to actually open the jar) we added the chicken hearts. It was amazing how they looked exactly like the original except they were burned black! Since the U-2 guys were so proud that they had taken “Oscar” flying in the “Dragon Lady,” we put a label on the jar that read, “Oscar’s Balls—flown Mach 3+ in an SR-71.”
U-2 pilots vow they would get even
‘We then, appearing as contrite as we could, had the jar returned to Det 2 with our profound apologies because, we said, the jar had been stored in an aircraft bay that had gotten hot on the trip back to Kadena and “Oscar’s Balls” had been fried! JT and I returned to Beale before the reaction traveled back to Det 1; however, knowing Doyle Krumery’s explosive nature, it wasn’t hard to imagine the conversation between him and the Det 1 commander, Lt. Col. Bob Cunningham.’
Alison concludes;
‘Later, the real “Oscar’s Balls” were returned to Det 2. However, the U-2 pilots vowed they would get even. Sometime later, when one of them was at Kadena they took from the Det 1 office a jar containing a Habu snake. They thought they had purloined a Det 1 prize. We had to tell them, that we had numerous jars with Habus in them and they could keep it if they wanted!’
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Several former engineers who worked on the Mach 3+ Spy Plane were contacted by NASA as the agency is looking for their help with a possible return-to-flight project.
Former US Air Force (USAF) and NASA test engineer Mike Relja was reached out by David Ash, a former US Navy and Joby test pilot, to help with the effort. Now in his late 70s, Relja was surprised when NASA contacted him about the project he told Aviation Week.
“I told the guy, ‘You know, I’m too old to be doing this. I wish you well. I’d like to see you make it. It would be interesting. But I just don’t think you can get there from here,” Relja explained.
SR-71A Tail No. 844 is the Blackbird at the centre of the effort. Since her last flight, the HABU (as the SR-71 is dubbed by her aircrews) has been sitting on display at NASA’s Armstrong Flight Research Center at Edwards Air Force Base (AFB), California.
Aviation Week obtained commercial satellite images that showed that the spy plane was removed from its display pole sometime before April this year. The Blackbird was moved into the hangar that was once used for the Space Shuttle by NASA employees.
A NASA spokesperson told Aviation Week that the agency recognizes “the interest in the SR-71 and its remarkable history at NASA but have no additional information to share regarding the aircraft at this time.”
A new fleet of experimental X-planes
NASA Administrator Jared Isaacman spoke about NASA plans to build a new fleet of experimental X-planes at the All-In Summit in Los Angeles earlier in September where Isaacman showed an image of a new aircraft. As the image below shows, the new plane seemed to feature something in common with the Blackbird such as its tail design, engine areas and cockpit. Isaacman added that NASA would soon be flying as high and as fast as it had in the past, and then go beyond those limits.
Tail No. 844 has not flown for nearly 27 years and it would be difficult to operate since it could have water and sand inside it after spending so many years on display, Relja explained.
“I do know they’ve got people working on it. But again, without equipment, it’s beyond me what they’re doing,” he pointed out.
He also explained that even though the aircraft has two J58 engines and one spare engine under it, the J58 may not have been properly maintained or rotated for decades.
“When we were operational, if we had a spare engine, every 90 days we had to rotate the engine. Every 180 days, we had to run it to keep it as a ready spare. Now you’re talking about engines that have been sitting for 30-plus years,” Relja explained.
Problems
Moreover, in 2007 the USAF and NASA destroyed around $600 million worth of SR-71 spare parts so the supply of spare parts is another big problem. JP-7 fuel (a special type of fuel used only by the SR-71) would also be needed.
Besides these, the aircraft also needs triethylborane (TEB, a chemical used to start its engines) special engine oil and hydraulic fluids. Special carts were needed for several jobs Relja pointed out. “To get the engine out, you need a cart. You need equipment to pull the [engine] spikes, pull the [ejection] seat. All that stuff is gone.”
Nine SR-71s were flown to museums in the US and UK, hence their engines and other parts could be used for the project.
During the 1990s two SR-71 Blackbird aircraft were used by NASA as testbeds for high-speed and high-altitude aeronautical research at Dryden. The aircraft included an SR-71A and SR-71B (the trainer version), loaned to NASA by the US Air Force.
NASA SR-71s
During the 1990s two SR-71 Blackbird aircraft were used by NASA as testbeds for high-speed and high-altitude aeronautical research at Dryden. The aircraft included an SR-71A and SR-71B (the trainer version), loaned to NASA by the US Air Force.
The SR-71, the most advanced member of the Blackbird family that included the A-12 and YF-12, was designed by a team of Lockheed personnel led by Clarence “Kelly” Johnson, then vice president of Lockheed’s Advanced Development Company Projects, commonly known as the “Skunk Works” and now a part of Lockheed Martin Corp.
The Blackbird design originated in secrecy during the late 1950s with the A-12 reconnaissance aircraft that first flew in April 1962 and remained classified until 1976. President Lyndon Johnson publicly announced the existence of the YF-12A interceptor variant on Feb. 29, 1964, more than half a year after its maiden flight. The SR-71 completed its first flight on Dec. 22, 1964. More than a decade after their retirement the Blackbirds remain the world’s fastest and highest-flying production aircraft ever built.
The Blackbirds were designed to cruise at Mach 3.2, just over three times the speed of sound or more than 2,200 miles per hour and at altitudes up to 85,000 feet. The extreme operating environment in which they flew made the aircraft excellent platforms for conducting research and experiments in a variety of disciplines: aerodynamics, propulsion, structures, thermal protection materials, high-speed and high-temperature instrumentation, atmospheric studies, and sonic boom characterization.
SR-71 activities at Dryden were part of NASA’s overall high-speed aeronautical research program and involved other NASA research Centers, other government agencies, universities, and commercial firms.
Jay Lacklen is a retired Air Force reserve pilot with 12,000 military flying hours. He grew up in Arlington, VA, and graduated from the University of North Carolina-Chapel in 1969. He entered service in 1970 and retired in 2004 as a Lt Col with 12,500 flying hours. Lacklen taught Air Force T-1 pilot training simulators at Columbus AFB, Mississippi from 2005-2014. He grew up in Arlington, VA and graduated from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill in 1969. In addition to pilot training aircraft, he flew 330 hours in the C-7 Caribou, 2000 hours in the B-52 bomber, and 9,500 hours in the C-5 Galaxy transport.
He flew in all major military actions from Vietnam to the Iraq War. Lacklen lives in northern Virginia and is married with four adult daughters and two granddaughters.
In November 1992, my Westover C-5 crew got “picked off” from our scheduled mission to fly another mission. The original mission was a standard Navy run to Rota, Spain; Sigonella, Italy; Bahrain; and return by the same bases to Westover.
When we alerted at Sigonella for our next leg, the command post offered us another mission. It seemed a Travis AFB active duty crew was in delay at Sig and their flight engineer was going non-current for a check ride and could not complete the mission. They asked if we would assume that mission instead of continuing our own.
C-5 mission around the world
The new mission would take us around the world, eastbound, through Pakistan, Australia, Samoa, and Hawaii. Had this been a crew with standard reservists, who needed to be home on time for their “real” jobs, we could not have taken the new mission. But this crew consisted of reserve bums (no other job) and ARTS. If I’d had a standard reservist crew, when asked if they would volunteer, they would have said “Hell, no!” But the bum/ART crew said “Hell, yes!” So around the world we would go. This would be my final mission hurrah at Westover.
The first leg would be a max crew-day body wrecker: Sig to Bahrain; to Islamabad, Pakistan; to Diego Garcia in the middle of the Indian Ocean. We took off late in the afternoon from Sig, quick-turned Bahrain for fuel around midnight, and arrived overhead Islamabad just before sunrise.
I hoped for daylight because we would be within 20 miles or so of the Himalayan mountain chain and its 20,000-foot peaks. I didn’t want to fool around in the dark at an unfamiliar field with towering mountain peaks. Thankfully, the early predawn light allowed us to see the mountain outlines as we began our steep penetration to the field.
Our approach went routinely until we departed the final approach fix. I then saw as bizarre a sight as T have ever seen. In the dim predawn light, a heavy smoke fog rose from dozens of individual chimneys used to make bricks. These were apparently personal kilns for small family-run brick businesses, and even in the dim light I could see smoke rising that gave the area the look of an industrial ecological disaster, a dark sooty landscape that might have appeared similar to thermal vents on some alien planet inhospitable to humans.
Typical military outpost
In another surprise, about an hour later, the sun rose above the mountains and revealed an entirely different view. The Pakistani air base seemed Mediterranean in its climate. Warm air from the south provided short-sleeved shirt weather, and colorful flower gardens surrounded by verdant grass covered the base campus. We could have been back in Sigonella.
The base seemed a typical military outpost; cadets marched in formation and uniformed Pakistani Air Force personnel went about their tasks as we do in the States. After this second quick turn, we took off in bright sunlight headed south down the Indus River valley to the Indian Ocean enroute to Diego Garcia, about five and a half hours south.
Again I found the unexpected while flying down the Indus Valley. The river’s shores were barren, as was the entire valley. At least the Nile had a ten-mile, or so, wide strip of green along the river, but the Indus had once. It seemed to run through a barren desert, a landscape unchanged by its presence.
I had stayed awake the entire mission thus far, almost 20 hours, and I was winding down hard as we approached the Indian Ocean. My two fellow pilots, Keith Guillotte and Craig Peters, had taken sleep breaks previously, so I told them they had the leg to Diego and I hit the bunk to sleep like a dead man.
The lights of Darwin
The other pilots rousted me out of my slumber cave in the forward bunk room prior to descent late in the afternoon on a sunny tropical day. After landing and getting our rooms, we visited a beachcomber style bar and grill that provided a marvelous view of the ocean waves breaking on the reef about a mile away, as picturesque a tropical view as I’ve seen. Unfortunately, that is about all there is to see on Diego.
Late the next afternoon, we alerted for the second leg of our eastward journey, about 2,500 nautical miles and six hours to Darwin on the north shore of Australia. We flew this segment almost totally at night, and rarely have I felt more alone in the universe, with no signs of land or humans for hours on end over the East Indian Ocean.
My only connection with civilization, the HF radio, made communications, as mentioned previously, sound as if I were calling Oceanic Control from Mars from my spaceship.
Finally, the lights of Darwin appeared far in the distance surrounded by nothing, the outback to the south and the Indian Ocean to the north. I’d report to you on Darwin except I saw almost none of it except base operations at the air field. We refueled, filed our flight plan and ate in about three hours. Then we launched south across the Australian continent for the three-hour flight to the isolated radar tracking station of Woomera, 300 miles north of the south coast port city of Adelaide. On the way we would pass almost directly over Alice Spring in the interior.
Southern Cross
Midway in our climb to FL 330, the earth below us went black with no signs of human habitation. The view remained this way for most of our cross-continent trek across the outback.
After a while at cruise, I sat alone as Keith and Craig slept. Checklists were complete and there was no chatter on interphone. I experienced silence and darkness for long stretches of time, except for the stars. The stars! I remembered the Crosby, Stills & Nash song “Southern Cross” and my promise to finally see this constellation mostly invisible from the Northern Hemisphere.
I didn’t really know what I was looking for—something the size of Orion or the Big Dipper? There was something of a moon lighting the sky so only bright stars shone brightly enough to be seen as I scanned the cosmos. After a few moments I looked up and there it was, a large four-point cross in the southern sky, four bright stars rising above me. I stared in awe at this symbol from heaven that southern mariners had used for thousands of years to guide them. This seemed a near-religious moment, and I felt as if I were in a celestial cathedral with a soaring needed to complete the moment.
Woomera wave
We landed in morning sunshine in Woomera for a stay of several days. On landing rollout, however, we got a “Det Fail” light on our annunciator panel telling us one or more of our 24 wheel brakes was free-wheeling and not providing any braking action. Sometimes this malfunction can be cured by adjusting the wheel hubs, but sometimes it cannot and more extensive maintenance is required. Except there was no maintenance in Woomera and such a fix might require a week or more to fly in from Travis AFB in California. We adjusted the hubs and hoped that would be sufficient, something we would not know until takeoff roll.
I had anticipated Woomera providing an outback showcase of the Australian interior, a hiking opportunity and photo bonanza. As soon as I exited the plane, however, I met the scourge that would hound us over the entire crew rest, leave us cowering inside buildings in self-defense and longing for an opportunity to leave this hell hole.
When outdoors we constantly employed what the locals term the “Woomera wave,” or a flapping arm motion in front of your face in a futile attempt to hold the creatures at bay. As the only targets for miles in any direction, we became the hunted prey for these outback denizens as they invaded Woomera in huge swarms. Being indoors provided some relief, although the pests had penetrated even this space to a minor extent. Outside excursions around the small town that covered only a few dozen acres were limited to the local bank to cash checks (debit cards were still ten years or so in the future) and grocery store.
Launch for Sydney
My one unrequired foray to the modest zoo on edge of town left me longing for a hat with mosquito netting. l employed a constant Woomera wave while quickly reviewing the caged kangaroos, koalas, kookaburras, and parrots before fleeing back to the hotel.
After a few days in this purgatory we launched for Sydney. At 60 knots on takeoff roll, the “Det Fail” light again illuminated – and no one said a word. Technically this would demand an abort call and termination of the takeoff, but that would mean perhaps a week in Woomera waiting for a maintenance team from the States to fix the problem. No way, Jose, we were leaving this place!
On landing roll at Richmond AFB in Sydney a few hours later the “Det Fail” light again illuminated and immediately all three of us shouted “Det fail light!” We told the station manager he’d have to fly in a Maintenance Recovery Team from the States to fix this gear malfunction. He said he had a C-141 due in the next day and could do that. Drat! The next day? However, when I called in the next day, the manager apologized profusely that Travis had sent the wrong parts! “Oh, no!” I replied, smiling. “Call us when you have the parts,” I continued. “We’ll be roaming Sydney until you do!”
This good fortune could not be fully exploited, however, because much of the crew, to include all three of us pilots, were coming down with head colds. This had been precipitated by several grueling crew days that impaired our immune systems and would crimp our forays around Sydney to allow us extra sleep time to fight the malady.
Pago Pago
We spent three days in Sydney, mostly nursing our head colds. What a waste, to finally get to Sydney and then get sick for most of the stay.
Our next trip segment promised to be exotic in a South Pacific manner, five hours to Pago Pago in American Samoa and about another five hours to Hickam AFB, Hawaii. We took off in early morning sunshine and stayed in it all the way to Hickam.
Pago Pago proved as marvelous as I anticipated, a small speck of green on an endless blue ocean, about twenty miles long east to west and ten miles wide north to south. The runway seems built on the ocean, as waves break almost on the edges of the concrete.
Just to the north the highest island peak rose 2145 feet above the Pago Pago harbor. That is about as much of the island as we saw. We spent our three-hour turn time in a large open-air thatch roofed arena where Samoan dancers performed for us.
We had to be on our way, unfortunately. My cold had gotten worse as it threatened to close my right ear’s Eustachian tube and cause an ear block on descent. I kept my sinus spray at the ready as we took off and climbed out to the north toward Hawaii, five hours away.
C-5 mission around the world: grounded in Hawaii
I knew from flight surgeon briefings and from experience not to use the nose spray on the way up. The air pressure in my inner ear would soon be greater than cabin pressure and would blow congestion out of the ear tube. About thirty minutes prior to descent I would use the spray and hope it dampened Eustachian tube inflammation and prevented the ear block. This rarely worked, however, because the spray only briefly passed by the Eustachian tube entry into the throat and had limited effect. And, sure enough, my right hear blocked on descent into Hickam.
However, this would be a relatively mild block that cleared a few minutes after landing. It did ground me for three days, something my squadron mates back at Westover found suspicious. Yeah, sure, you get yourself grounded in Hawaii, what a fairy tale! The other two pilots were also grounded for the same style head cold, so they provided me with cover.
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