Dream Aircraft

by Schiff, Barry

  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 go’s.)

  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.

  The author expresses his gratitude to Colonel Eric Stroberg, Lt. Colonel Greg Barber, Major Dean Neeley, and the men and women of the 9th Reconnaissance Wing for so graciously sharing their time and expertise.

  Deep in the heart of every private pilot lurks a fighter pilot. There are very few of us who have not daydreamed his 150-horsepower Cessna into a mighty, fearsome attack plane zooming across the battle-scarred hills of some warring nation.

  Close your eyes. Gently squeeze the trigger on the black, molded handle of the control stick. Eagle-eyed, watch the tracers stream from your wing-mounted cannons. Atta’ boy! You scored! Now for a high-speed, low-altitude victory roll over those burning tanks.

  But it is difficult to pretend you are in a P-51 Mustang when flying a Cessna 152. So perhaps you should buy an F-4U Corsair or a T-6 Texan. But first you should call your stockbroker and order a block of Mobil Oil. Those fuel guzzlers can quickly put you out of the flying business.

  Fortunately, there is a more sensible approach for those who aspire to an airplane with the feel of a military fighter. The Beech T-34 Mentor not only satisfies the desire to fly a warbird under a sliding canopy, but it is relatively economical. Powered by a 225-hp Continental engine (original Mentors had only 185 hp), fuel consumption in cruise flight at 169 mph is only 11 gph. The aircraft is built like a Sherman tank. Mentor owners find that maintenance costs are about the same as those of its kissing cousin, the Beech Bonanza (although recent problems have developed with the integrity of the wing structure that will be resolved).

  The T-34’s resemblance to the Bonanza is apparent during a walk-around inspection. Wings and landing gear seem to have been lifted directly from the Bonanza’s blueprints. The wings, of course, have been beefed up to accommodate aerobatic requirements. On the Navy version only, the T-34B, the landing gear has been strengthened up so that fledgling naval aviators can practice drop-’em-in, carrier-type landings.

  Photos courtesy Beech Aircraft

  The best way to tell an Air Force Mentor (T-34) from one enlisted in the Navy (T-34B) is to glance at the tail. The navy model has a large V-shaped notch under the rudder; the T-34 does not.

  There are other subtle differences, too. For example, the fuel selector valve on the T-34 allows selection of either the left or right tank, whereas the selector on the –B model is strictly on or off.

  Two small lights, one adjacent to each main landing-gear leg, illuminate when the
respective gear leg on the T-34 is down and locked. This allows the tower to more easily spot a stuck gear leg during a low pass over the field.

  The fuselage of the Mentor has borrowed some of the lines from the butterfly-tailed business plane from Wichita, but the similarity ends there. The individual cockpits are in tandem, housed under a military, greenhouse canopy. Cockpit visibility is unlimited in all quadrants.

  There is only one fuel sump drain, but it is under the fuselage at the approximate intersection of the lateral and longitudinal axes and is tough to reach. The 25-gallon wing tanks do not have drains.

  The two stainless-steel exhaust stacks at the bottom of the engine cowling are augmenters. Exhaust flowing through them creates a venturi effect in the tubes that helps to suck ambient air across the engine and into the stacks, which augments engine cooling.

  Two small, flush-mounted doors are on the right side of the engine cowling forward of the external power-unit receptacle and are spring-loaded to the closed position. There are two theories about their purpose. Some say this is where a ground attendant shoves a fire extinguisher in case of an engine fire. Others say that the doors are sucked open by the evacuating effect of the augmenters, which enables ambient air from outside the cowling to enter the engine compartment and assist in cooling during slow flight at high power settings. Take your pick. The pilot’s operating handbook fails to discuss them.

  Another noteworthy preflight item is battery accessibility. Pop open a small door on the right side of the cowling, lift a securing rod, and pull on the handle. The 28-volt battery conveniently slides out for servicing or changing.

  Solo flight is permitted only from the front seat to keep the center of gravity within limits.

  Entering the cockpit is simple. Slide back the canopy, step over the sidewall, and sit down in the typically military cockpit. It has no fancy trim or decorations. The layout and appearance of the instruments and controls are strictly functional.

  As the good book says, the first thing to do is “fasten yourself to the machine and with it become one.” The shoulder harnesses are equipped with inertia reels that can be locked for inverted flight. Also, the pilot can adjust the fore-and-aft position of the rudder pedals with a crank (T-34B only) to accommodate variations in the length of human legs.

  The main instrument panel has the look of a P-51. It is marked and placarded with luminescent printing against a black, non-glare background. The instruments have individual eyebrow lights.

  The attitude and direction indicators need A.C. electrical power supplied by either of 2 inverters. During VFR flight, the inverter switch may be off. The gyros are inoperative, of course, but there is considerably less load on the electrical system. When gyros are needed, turn on one of the inverters. The instruments then perform their spastic and then stabilizing dance while spinning up. An inverter-failure light advises the pilot to select the other inverter.

  I love the tachometer. The range of 0-to-1,000 rpm occupies the entire circumference of the gauge. As the tach needle begins its second revolution, a “1” pops up in a small window informing the pilot that engine rpm is between 1,000 and 2,000 rpm. The large needle then indicates engine speed to the nearest 2 or 3 rpm. Engine speed between 2,000 and 3,000 rpm is indicated similarly.

  The left-hand console contains three trim wheels (pitch, roll, and yaw), the fuel selector, electric boost pump switch, flap handle, and a military-style power quadrant. The throttle is big, fitting nicely into the palm of the hand. It gives you the feeling that you in command of a Mustang or a Corsair. The constant-speed propeller and mixture controls can be adjusted with the fingertips as your hand rests on the throttle.

  The rear cockpit is not as well equipped but has sufficient controls and instruments to enable an instructor to do his thing. There are a few switches that transfer command of certain controls from the student in front to the instructor in the rear.

  Larry Hamovitz, who flew for Continental Airlines, checked me out in N363MD, an ex-Navy T-34B. He talked me through an engine start: battery on, fuel selector off, mixture rich, boost pump on (the pump does not energize until the fuel selector is turned on), throttle cracked, and starter switch depressed. As soon as the engine hints of life, open the fuel valve, which also energizes the boost pump. The pump is deactivated after engine start.

  I nudged the Mentor out of its tie-down spot at Santa Monica Airport and turned onto the taxiway using differential braking. There is no direct control of the nosewheel. This is similar to the early A-model Bonanza, the Lake Amphibian, and more recently, the Cirrus SR-22.

  It feels wonderful to taxi a Mentor. With the canopy open, arms resting on the sills, and left hand resting easily on the throttle while listening to the deep-throated song of power from the augmenters. The Mentor is not quiet, however. During flight you can hardly hear yourself think; noise-canceling headsets are a must.

  At the run-up pad, Hamovitz instructed me to verify proper operation of the constant-speed propeller at 1,800 rpm. Magnetos and carburetor heat are checked at 2,000. The fuel pump is switched on, and rudder trim is set 6-degrees right to offset the Mentor’s tendency to yaw left during takeoff rotation and initial climb.

  The microphone button is on the throttle instead of the control stick as it is on civilian aircraft. The Mentor was a military trainer, and if military pilots got into the habit of pressing a button on the control stick every time they wanted to chat, the control tower would wind up being a missile target.

  A major decision must be made immediately before takeoff. One of us must close his canopy, because only one may be open during flight. Hamovitz volunteers to close his and I will enjoy the air conditioning.

  After takeoff power is applied, steering is accomplished easily with rudder only. The Mentor accelerates relatively well but the noise level makes it seem greater. The nose comes up at 55 knots and liftoff occurs at 60. The landing gear and flaps are retracted electrically, just like on a Bonanza.

  According to the military flight handbook, climbs should be executed at full power, 2600 rpm and throttle to the firewall. But because civilian pilots have to pay hard-earned cash for engine maintenance and fuel, Hamovitz suggested 2500 rpm and 25 inches of manifold pressure.

  The Mentor accelerated to the recommended climb speed of 100 knots and the vertical speed was disappointing, only 750 fpm. I later discovered that the T-34 climbs better at 80 or 90 knots but that cylinder-head temperatures begin to climb almost as rapidly. Engine cooling is a problem with the Mentor, and the aircraft could use a set of cowl flaps.

  The T-34B is a joy to fly; it handles like a kiddy cart. Sitting on the centerline of the aircraft makes it equally easy to make steep turns to the right or left.

  With either canopy open, the cockpits are surprisingly free of wind. Navigational charts can be opened and used without fear of them being sucked out and blown away.

  The Mentor has a Bonanza wing, so you expect the stall characteristics to be similar, and they are. Approaching a stall induces a mild buffet, and a deep stall reveals no nasty habits. The Mentor stalls at 58 knots (clean) and 46 knots dirty. A full-power stall with the flaps even partially deployed, however, can roll you onto your back if you do not recover quickly and aggressively.

  As far as aerobatics are concerned, the Mentor will take almost anything the average pilot is willing to give (between +6 and −3 Gs). If your seat-of-the-pants gauge is inoperative, an accelerometer (G meter) on the panel indicates when you have gone too far.

  Inverted flight is limited to 15 seconds because the engine does not have an inverted oil system.

  The military airspeed redline of the Mentor is 240 knots, but the FAA does not allow civilians to exceed 219 knots. Either way, the Mentor can accelerate to some impressive speeds if a rapid descent is desired or if a pilot fails to pull out of a split S with sufficient vigor.

  Hamovitz and I had
no difficulty spotting Dick Cole in his newly painted Mentor as we approached the prearranged rendezvous spot over the Pomona Vortac for some formation flying. Before long, Cole broke ranks. The chase was on, and the dogfight began. After each of us ultimately claimed victory, and both the sun and the fuel gauge began to ebb, we headed home.

  At the optimum glide speed of 90 knots, the Mentor has a glide ratio of 7.0 to 1 (propeller set to low pitch). With the prop control pulled back to high pitch, however, glide ratio increases to an impressive 10.5 to 1.

  Landing gear and flap speed is 109 knots. When both are extended and the propeller is set to low pitch, a power-off descent at 109 knots results in a steep dive in excess of 3,000 fpm.

  Landing the Mentor is pleasantly easy. The long control stick provides lots of leverage, and the controls remain light and sensitive during the flare and touchdown.

  A pilot becomes quickly addicted to the Mentor. This is a fun machine that provides the feel and thrill of a hot warbird at a wee fraction of the cost.

  The Beech Model 45 Mentor (named after the trusted servant of Greek mythology) first flew as a prototype in late 1948. Production ended in 1958 after almost 2,000 had been built. Although the piston versions have long ago been retired from military service, the turboprop-powered version, the T-34C, is still on active duty with the Navy.

  The T-34 was designed originally to simulate the feel of the Lockheed T-33 jet trainer (the Thunderbird), and the FAA felt that these control responses are too sensitive for civilians. As a result, FAA required that all civilian Mentors be equipped with a bungee-neutralizing control system to reduce sensitivity.