by Jim Carter
They would get so focused on traffic spacing, turning at the right time, or listening to the radios that they neglected to lower the gear handle and/or flaps for landing. My response was always the same: “Go Around.” So they went around and set up for another landing. The landing itself was another critical time for the solo student. The T-38 would land in a normal, nose-high attitude. This attitude was established on final approach and held all the way down to the runway while gradually decreasing power. If the student had the airplane too high off the ground, the nose kept coming up while the airspeed decreased, a dangerous situation. When I saw this developing, I would send the student around. The proper response from the student would be to lower the nose by relaxing backpressure on the stick and advancing the power to maximum. This would get the airplane accelerating again and kept it from stalling. On rare occasions, the student would attempt to keep the aircraft from touching the ground by keeping backpressure on the stick while simultaneously pushing the power to maximum. The result of this unhealthy combination was called a saber dance. During a saber dance, the airplane remains nose-high as it walks itself down the runway, swaying left and right. The airplane can’t accelerate because the pilot is holding too much backpressure on the stick. If held too long, the airplane will crash, so it’s very critical to lower the nose by relaxing backpressure
Since the maximum number of planes in the pattern was twelve, there were times when several solo students would be in the pattern together. One of our training bases was Webb AFB, Texas. One fateful day at Webb, the pattern was full, twelve aircraft. Four of these twelve were solos. Two of the solos were Iranian students. The following event demonstrates how high pressure and language barriers can combine to cause big problems. Iranian student #1 was in the final turn, gear and flaps down, all is well. Iranian student #2 was on outside downwind. Student #1 was cleared for a touch and go and he safely landed. On his go around after the landing, a long tongue of flame shot out the tail of number 2 engine. The RSU student observer called out the problem to the controller who turned and verified the fire. The controller, for whatever reason, couldn’t think of the call sign of the distressed airplane. The number of solos in the pattern may have confused the controller, but he did know that the student in the fiery aircraft was an Iranian. Knowing this, the controller said: “Iranian student in the T-38 pattern at Webb, you’re on fire, eject.” At which point, both Iranian students in the pattern at Webb ejected, one from the stricken airplane and one from a perfectly good airplane. Both students parachuted safely to the ground. Both aircraft were total losses.
My off time schedule was a full one. One of the perks of the job was being able to come home every night. My daughter Krista was four when our son Jason was born in December of 1974. Spending as much time with them was my first priority. The realities of an Air Force career cut into the family time, however. Competition among Officers was very keen and we were encouraged to do whatever we could to distinguish ourselves from our contemporaries.
There were university extension courses available at night on the base. Master’s degree programs for both business and counseling were available. I enrolled in the counseling program and obtained my Master’s degree in Counseling and Guidance within two years. I also completed the Air Force Air Command and Staff College course by correspondence. Neither of these made me a better pilot but the Air Force believed it would some day make me a better administrator. My sole desire was to fly but the Air Force had a different plan. I was willing to go along with this theory as long as I could keep flying and it didn’t force me behind a desk.
Chapter 10
The third leg of the student-flying curriculum was formation. This was my personal favorite and I didn’t try to hide my enthusiasm from my students. Some of the students were afraid of formation. It required total concentration and coordination. As tense as it may sound, to do it well, you had to relax. The harder you gripped that stick, the rougher you flew. Formation flying required the student to learn both lead and wing positions. The lead had to plan his maneuvers well in advance. He could no longer think for himself; he had to plan for two, three, or four airplanes. Staying in the assigned area took some planning. This was an easy task for one airplane. But could get a lot more complicated when three more aircraft were added to the formation. When leading a four-ship, it was lead’s responsibility to keep all his airplanes in the area. Situational awareness was a key factor in the leader’s planning.
Lead also did the clearing for his formation ensuring the airspace you were about to enter was safe. Before the flight, the lead briefed the mission. He listed the maneuvers and their sequence and also set a “bingo” fuel. This was a “return to base” fuel. Regardless of what had been accomplished on the ride, when a formation member declared “bingo,” the formation started back. Halfway into the ride, the lead would change, and the maneuvers would be repeated with a new leader. This switch ensured that students got to practice both positions.
The formation phase put pressure on the students. If they could solo in formation, they knew they would finish the program and get their wings. As instructors, we knew that we would lose a few more students before this phase was over. Our students were nervous but we did our best to put them at ease. We also did our best to hide our apprehension from them. It was one thing to fly three feet away from another airplane at 400 knots, that wasn’t a problem. The leap of faith came when we had to hand the airplane over to the student and let him try it. Our hands were never far from the controls. The goal of this training was to get the students proficient enough to solo in formation. At the end of each phase of training: instrument, contact, and now formation, the student had to pass a check ride. These were all high-pressure rides but the solo formation ride was THE ride. Once the student soloed in formation, he was assured of getting his wings.
When there were only a few rides left until graduation, we were able to have a little fun with the students. A typical four-ship consisted of two dual ships and two solos. One of the maneuvers practiced was a pitchout and straight ahead rejoin. After the pitchout, lead would call out which side #2 was to join and what speed to join at. Rejoin speed was normally 280 to 300 knots. We instructors could have a little fun with our students by agreeing prior to takeoff that we would rejoin at 250 knots instead of the called speed, 300 knots. Lead would pitch out, make the radio call and wait. #2, the other dual ship, rejoined at 250 knots. Then we both would watch as #3 and #4 flashed by our position with 50 knots of overtake. It was safe, but it was funny.
After instructing for 18 months I was appointed the Chief of Check Section. There were six of the most experienced instructors in Check Section so it was an honor for me to take this position. Our task was to administer all student check rides for all three phases of the program. Because of my position, I frequently had to fly with students who were candidates for elimination from the program. One such student was Marvin.
Marvin was quiet, polite and very intense. He had trouble getting through each phase but each time he had passed his final ride in both the instrument and contact phase. His problem wasn’t so much his hand-eye coordination in formation, but his lack of judgment. This was a major factor in grading our student pilots. We were teaching them the skills to fly but throughout the year we stressed the proper use of judgment. Not only did we show them how to land the airplane, we also showed them the danger of trying to save a landing from an unstable approach. A situation like this required good judgment. Marvin could fly in formation but he had trouble in recognizing a hazardous situation as it developed.
Marvin was down to his last ride, his elimination ride. If he failed this ride he was on his way back to Louisiana without his wings. Marvin and I would fly together. In the other airplane was my good Bud and fellow instructor Greg Barrett. Greg was flying with his student, Bob Johnson, who was progressing normally. We all sat down and briefed the flight. Marvin and I would lead off, perform a number of maneuvers, then switch lead and repeat. I too
k the extra time to put Marvin at ease prior to the flight. I told him the more relaxed and less worried he was, the better his performance would be. Marvin was his typical, quiet self. I didn’t know if my talk helped. I told Marvin how the flight would be operated. He would be flying as if he were solo. I would do minimal instructing, but I would be observing his flying skills and judgment.
Marvin did a stellar job as lead. He kept us in the area, sequenced his maneuvers well and took care of his wingman. We switched positions and took our spot on the wing. The pitchout and turning rejoin took longer than normal. Marvin seemed hesitant to fly up that extended line into proper position, three feet from lead. With a little encouragement, he slid into position. Marvin got quite a workout as we hung on through several turning climbs and descents.
Now it was time for some close and extended trail. The “trail” position flown by number two is a 60-degree cone flown behind the lead. A “close” trail is from 500 to 1000 feet back, 1000 to 2000 feet back is the “extended” position. The wingman’s job is to stay in the cone behind lead regardless of the maneuver being performed. Lead would typically do lazy eights, chandelles, barrel rolls and turn reversals. The wingman uses power and cutoff to remain in the cone behind the leader, keeping him in sight at all times. We did a few simple maneuvers, and then lead started into a barrel roll. Normally it’s not hard to stay in position during the barrel roll, but this one was done around the sun. Lead started down and we were right with him. Lead then started pulling and rolling and Marvin started falling out of the cone. In order to get back in the cone, Marvin cut towards the lead but as lead continued the barrel roll, Marvin ended up heading directly into the sun and lead was now gone. Marvin’s next move would decide his future (and almost mine as well). When the wingman loses sight of lead, the correct action is to turn away from his last known position. When we last saw lead, he was rolling left in about 90 degrees of bank. Marvin should have rolled right and pulled to avoid a conflict; instead he rolled further left and that’s when I took control of the airplane and rolled right, sealing Marvin’s fate.
I almost acted too late. When I next saw lead, I was right side up, in level flight. The lead aircraft flashed by us in a split second. He was upside down and our wings missed each other by a foot. Neither of us had time to say anything on the radio but one of us hit the mike button at that instant and made a sound as we nearly smacked into each other. We headed back to Craig without trying to find each other again. Marvin hadn’t said a word. He knew what was coming. Back on the ground I debriefed him for over an hour. He had failed the ride. His flying skills were acceptable. The reason for his elimination was his lack of judgment. By trying to do the opposite of what was called for in that situation he almost cost all four of us our lives along with the loss of both aircraft.
Russian AN-12 pilot and Jim Carter in Calcutta, India, 1971
Gary Powers and the U2
USAF T-38 Trainer
USAF C-130
USAF U-2
U2 pilot suited up for a high flight
PART III
Chapter 1
The summer of 1977 was its normal self, very hot and humid. Along with the heat came a rumor that Air Training Command was reducing its number of bases. Everyone was on edge. It didn’t take long for the rumor to become reality. We received notice in June that Craig would be closing. The Air Force was under congressional pressure to cut its budget and Craig AFB became expendable. This meant that we all had choices to make. Those of us who still had an obligation to Air Training Command could continue flying the T-38 but would have to do it at one of the remaining pilot training bases. My obligation to ATC was fulfilled so I was free to apply for any flying job I wanted.
The base closure was a stroke of good fortune because now I could apply for something I had always wanted, but couldn’t until now. My dream-flying job was a single seat, single engine jet. There weren’t too many of these jobs left in the Air Force. The U-2 was at the top of my list.
The U-2 is a high altitude, single seat, reconnaissance aircraft. Up to now, it was my unreachable star because I hadn’t met the qualifications. One of the requirements for flying the U-2 was having at least 1000 hours of jet time. An additional requirement stated that the applicant had to have aircraft commander experience in at least two different airplanes. My T-38 IP job gave me over 1100 hours of jet time and it was my second aircraft commander job. Now I had the qualifications needed for this dream job.
The U-2 was my top choice but I had other options in case my application was rejected. I could go back to the C-130 or fly the F-15 fighter aircraft. The F-15 was a great airplane but the location would be in Alamogordo, New Mexico, which was terrible. All my hopes were riding on the U-2 since the other options were unattractive.
There were several reasons I wanted into the U-2 program. It met my single engine, single seat criteria. It was the most challenging airplane in the world to fly, I was fascinated by its history, and it had an important mission.
In 1977 the airplane was no longer flying over hostile territory. Through the development of technology and satellite usage we no longer had to fly over dangerous areas. Cameras had been developed that could peer sideways into a country and did so with amazing resolution. The true value of the U-2, that is still true today, is its unpredictability. Bad guys knew when the satellites would be overhead, but they never knew when the U-2 would show up.
Chapter 2
The U-2 was a technical marvel and it played an important role in world political events. The Cold War era was synonymous with the U-2.
The U-2 program started in the early 1950’s. The U.S. military wanted to keep an eye on Soviet arms development post World War II. Russia had gone from being an ally during the war to being a threat after the war ended. In the early 1950’s the best intelligence we had on the interior of the Soviet Union was from captured German Luftwaffe photos taken during the war. These photos only showed the territory west of the Ural Mountains. This lack of knowledge of Soviet capabilities prompted a call for overflights of Soviet airspace. The Soviet air defenses aggressively attacked all aircraft near its borders. The existing reconnaissance aircraft, primarily bombers converted for reconnaissance duty, were vulnerable to anti-aircraft artillery, missiles and fighters. Richard Leghorn of the U.S. Air Force suggested that an aircraft flying above 65,000 feet should be safe from the MIG-17. The MIG-17 was the Soviet’s best interceptor but it could barely reach 45,000 feet. Leghorn and others believed that Soviet radar could not track high altitude reconnaissance aircraft. Leghorn’s belief, however, was based on outdated intelligence. Since the war the Soviets had improved their radar technology and were able to track aircraft over 65,000 feet.
The highest-flying airplane in the 50’s was the English Canberra, which could reach 48,000 feet. The U.S. version of the Canberra was the B-57. The Americans modified the B-57 with longer, thinner wings, new engines, and a lighter-than-normal airframe, which enabled it to reach 67,000 feet.
U.S. Air Force (USAF) planners reasoned that an aircraft that could fly at 70,000 feet would be safely beyond the reach of Soviet fighters, missiles and radar. In 1953 another USAF officer, John Seaberg, proposed building an aircraft that could reach this height over a target with a 1500 nautical mile operational radius. The USAF decided to only solicit designs from smaller aircraft companies that could give the project the attention it deserved. The USAF gave contracts to Bell Aircraft, Martin Aircraft, and Fairchild to develop proposals for the new reconnaissance aircraft. Officials at Lockheed heard about the project and decided to submit an unsolicited proposal. Lockheed executive, John Carter (not a relative) suggested that the design eliminate landing gear and avoid combat load factor requirements. These two items would save weight and increase altitude.
Lockheed asked Clarence “Kelly” Johnson to come up with such a design. Johnson was Lockheed’s best aeronautical engineer. He was responsible for the P-38, the P-80, and the F-104. He was also known for completing
projects ahead of schedule. He worked in a separate division of the company called “The Skunk Works.” This strange name was originated by one of Johnson’s engineers. This team engineer, Irv Culver, was a fan of Al Capp’s newspaper comic strip, “Lil Abner” in which there was a running gag about a mysterious and smelly place deep in the forest called the “Skonk Works.” There, a strong tonic called Kickapoo Joy Juice, was brewed from skunks, old shoes and other weird ingredients. One day, Culver’s phone rang and he answered it by saying “Skonk Works, inside man Culver speaking.” Fellow employees quickly adopted the name for their secret division of Lockheed. “Skonk Works” became “Skunk Works” and the once informal nickname is now the registered trademark of the company.
Johnson’s design was called the CL-282. Johnson started with an F-104 fuselage. The F-104 Starfighter was basically a big engine with small, fin-like wings, and was affectionately known as the “missile with a man in it,” which describes it perfectly. To this dart-like fuselage, Johnson attached long, glider-like wings and used a General Electric J-73 engine to power the airplane. The resultant aircraft was a jet-powered glider. It took off from a dolly, landed on skids, and could reach 70,000 feet with a 2,000-mile range. The USAF rejected Kelly’s design in favor of the Bell X-16 and the modified B-57. Their reasons for the rejection were: lack of landing gear, and the use of the GE-73 engine instead of the more proven Pratt and Whitney J-57.