The SR-71 Blackbird

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.

He explains in his book SR-71 Revealed The Inside Story:

‘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!’

CLICK HERE to buy Richard H. Graham’s book SR-71 Revealed The Inside Story

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force and Lockheed Martin

‘The Mother of All Battles’

Early in the morning of Aug. 2, 1990, aircraft of the Iraqi Air Force (IrAF) bombed Kuwaiti air bases, and then the Iraqi Republican Guards stormed into the country. Although encountering some problems, the Iraqi forces occupied Kuwait in a matter of a few days.

However, when President Saddam Hussein of Iraq unleashed his military upon Kuwait, little did he know what kind of reaction he would provoke from the Western superpowers, and what kind of devastation his country would suffer in return.

Alarmed by the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, the USA and Saudi Arabia scrambled to react. Negotiations quickly revealed the obvious: despite all the investment of the proceeding decades, the desert kingdom was unable to protect itself. Therefore, the decision was taken to rush several carrier battle groups, dozens of combat aircraft, and entire units of the US Army and the US Marine Corps to the scene. As US allies from Europe and abroad followed in fashion, the biggest military build-up in the last two decades of the 20th Century came into being. Meanwhile, along the borders between Iraq, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, each side observed the other closely, and anxiously, took counsel of its fears and prepared for what Saddam eventually declared ‘The Mother of All Battles’ (Umm al-Ma’arik).

The first to respond

The Americans were the first to respond and on Aug.7  General Powell, Chairman of the JCS, ordered the ready brigade of the 82nd Airborne Division, Maritime Prepositioning Squadrons (MPS) from Guam and Diego Garcia, the CVBG with USS Dwight D Eisenhower (CVN-69) and the battleship USS Wisconsin (BB-64) — that carried BGM-109 Tomahawk land-attack missiles — 12 squadrons of combat aircraft, and three equipped with E-3 Sentry AWACS and tankers to the Arabian Peninsula and surrounding waters. The code-name of this operation, formally introduced on Aug. 8, 1990, became Desert Shield; this was initiated with the landing of Colonel Ron Rokosz’s 2nd Brigade of the 82nd ‘All-American’ Airborne Division at Dhahran AB.

For political and diplomatic reasons, CENTCOM would not have headquarters in its area of responsibility, but at MacDill Air Force Base (AFB) in Florida. This made it difficult for its commanders to establish relations with the local forces but this was neither immediately necessary nor possible: until early 1990 its primary focus was on thwarting ‘a Soviet invasion of Iran.’

As explained by E.R. Hooton & Tom Cooper in their book Desert Storm Volume 1: the Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait and Operation Desert Shield 1990-1991, in addition to receiving satellite imagery, CENTCOM also benefitted from a wide variety of platforms to probe behind the enemy lines. The first USAF aircraft used were SAC’s Boeing RC-135 Rivet Joint, which began Burning Wind SIGINT missions infantry on Aug. 9 and within two days were providing 24-hour coverage.

Joint Surveillance Target Acquisition System

On Aug. 29, SAC’s Lockheed U-2 very high altitude photo-reconnaissance aircraft and Lockheed TR-1 tactical reconnaissance with side-looking radar began operations as imagery was clearly the vital, and on  Sep. 8 the first medium-altitude photographic reconnaissance missions were flown by McDonnell-Douglas RF-4Cs. By Dec. 2 Gen. Charles Horner’s (Commander of US and allied air operations for Operation Desert Shield (and later Desert Storm) reconnaissance arm had flown 469 tactical, 421 strategic and 2,800 ELINT sorties, while AWACS— which both supported the shield and monitored IrAF activity had flown 253 sorties.

One reconnaissance system which was late to the table was the Joint Surveillance Target Acquisition System (J-STARS) — an airborne battlefield surveillance radar system with a range of 150 kilometres, installed into a modified Boeing 707, re-designated as the E-8A. Schwarzkopf requested its deployment as early as of Aug. 10 but in early September the Joint Chiefs rejected the request arguing, ‘Desert Shield is not suitable in time or place for introduction J-STARS’. Only at the last minute did the Pentagon change its mind: the two available aircraft arrived on Jan. 12, 1991, together with six ground stations and four support vehicles that provided 44 remote terminals.

F-117A flying close to Iraqi Airways Boeing 747

Conventional reconnaissance aircraft seem to have been not the only ones deployed by the US-led Coalition to monitor developments inside Iraq and Kuwait. Late during the evening of Dec. 16 1990, the crew of an Iraqi Airways Boeing 747 led by Captain Remzi (former fighter pilot with a long career of flying Sukhoi Su-7BMKs and Su-20s during the war with Iran) reported sighting an F-117A fighter close to the left wingtip of their aircraft – and that while underway over Najaf.

As far as is known, this was the first-ever encounter between an Iraqi pilot and the shadowy stealth fighter of the US Air Force. Although it remains unknown to this day what exactly the latter was doing only 200 kilometres southwest of Baghdad at that point in time, we can assume the F-117A served the purpose pf testing IrAF’s air defences. However, the F-117A sighted by Remzi startled the commanders of the IrAF, forcing them into the conclusion that they lacked the means to effectively combat the most advanced US combat aircraft.

Desert Storm Volume 1: the Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait and Operation Desert Shield 1990-1991 is published by Helion & Company and is available to order here.

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force and Steve Fitzgerald via Wikipedia

Flying the Line

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.

Lacklen is also the author of three books, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Three: Air Mobility Command. The following story comes the last book of the trilogy.

C-7 Caribou landing on Austere Field Over Hilltop

“Caribou Ops, 1971

The Central Highlands could present challenges. The often austere fields lay between ridge lines or, in one case, sat on a planed-off hilltop that sloped away in all directions.

I once watched my aircraft commander make three attempts to land on one. The steeply sloping terrain made judging the landing difficult. All normal visual cues told the brain you were still far above the field, and yet, suddenly there it was, immediately below you, leaving the plane too high to land. Finally, on the third frustrating try, the pilot, although still too high, decided to put it down anyway. I couldn’t believe he would try it, but I had no control over the situation except, perhaps, to scream.

The pilot dove the aircraft at the 1,500-foot runway, then yanked back hard on the yoke just above it. Unfortunately, the dive had increased our airspeed, so the plane floated, possibly catastrophically, down the short runway.

Metal runway

We touched down with about seven hundred feet remaining on the slippery PSP metal runway before the terrain dropped steeply into the jungle. The pilot slammed on the brakes and yanked the engines into reverse. The plane skidded and rotated slowly sideways as the reversed props threw up a huge dust cloud that enveloped us. Even though I couldn’t see the precipice through the dust, I knew it was approaching and we’d be lucky not to roll off the end and down the steep slope.

We stopped, blessedly, on level ground. The pilot took the throttles out of reverse, and the dust cloud slowly dissipated as we both sat gasping and speechless. Looking forward, I could not see level ground, only the jungle a hundred feet below. We had stopped with just enough runway overrun remaining to turn sharply to taxi back to the cargo ramp area. Another five feet and we’d have been bouncing down the slope into the jungle, and infamy.”

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

B-36 Peacemaker survived to five cancellation attempts

The B-36 was first conceived in 1941 as a transatlantic bomber to strike Europe from bases in the US. By 1943, the focus switched from the European Theater to the Pacific for use against the Japanese home islands. After more design changes and greater success of the B-29s, the prototype XB-36s first flight was delayed until Aug. 8, 1946; nearly six years after initial design contracts were signed.

When production ended in August 1954, more than 380 B-36s had been built for the US Air Force. In 1958-1959, the USAF replaced the B-36 with the B-52. Although never used in combat, the B-36 was a major deterrent to enemy aggression.

As explained by Meyers K. Jacobsen in his book Convair B-36: A Comprehensive History of America’s “Big Stick”, it is interesting to note that the B-36 program might have been canceled at least five times during the big bomber’s career. It is a testament to the plane itself that it did manage to survive during a difficult transitional period in Air Force history.

First possible cancellation:

The letter of intent, dated Jul. 23, 1943, from the Army Air Forces to Convair, was superseded a year later by a definitive contract for 100 B-36 airplanes. This $160 million contract included a $6 million fixed fee, and the cost of all spare parts and engineering data. However, the contract had no priority by that time, but delivery schedules remained the same, with the first B-36 off the production due in August 1945 and the last in October 1946.

With victory in sight, war contracts were being scrutinized for cancellation, or drastic cutback. Aircraft production was actually cut by 30% on May 25, 1945, a reduction of 17,000 planes. As far as the B-36 was concerned, there was no question that a long range bomber was needed. In 1945; the B-36 seemed the best answer, so, on Aug. 6, 1945, General Arnold approved the Air Staff recommendation to keep the B-36 production contract intact.

Second possible cancellation:

On Dec. 12, 1946, General Kenney, who had been promoted to four star general in March 1945, and had headed SAC since April 1946, suggested reducing the procurement contract for the 100 B-36s to just a few service-test aircraft. After studying available performance estimates on the B-36, the SAC commander believed it to be inferior to the forthcoming B-50, an advanced B-29 design. Among the shortcomings of the B-36 cited by General Kenney, were a useful range of only 6,500 miles, insufficient speed, and lack of protection for the bomber’s fuel load.

Neither the Air Staff or Lt. General Nathan F. Twining, AMC commanding general, agreed. General Twining said that the B-36 should not be judged solely from the XB-36, which had just started its flight testing. He added, all new airplanes encounter teething problems, including the B-17 and B-29. Moreover, the B-36 was the only suitable aircraft far enough along to serve as an interim long range atomic bomb carrier until the B-52 arrived. General Carl Spaatz, the AAF’s new commander, wholly agreed with General Twining. The B-36 contract was retained in full.

Third possible cancellation:

The new Air Force Aircraft and Weapons Board, formed by new Deputy Chief of the Air Staff General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, met on Aug. 19, 1947, and discussed the future role of strategic bombing, and the means of accomplishing such missions, if so needed. The senior officers were to recommend the weapons that best supported the long range plans for the Air Force’s development and gradual buildup to 70 groups.

The board members differed on how to solve these complex problems. Some considered the B-36 already obsolete and favored buying fast jet bombers—a gamble, since these would have insufficient range and would not be available for years. Others wanted to increase the B-36’s speed with the new proposed VDT engine, using the plane as an all-purpose bomber. Still others preferred the B-50, because it was faster than the present B-36 and could also obtain greater range and speed with the addition of VDT engines.

However, after prolonged discussion, a consensus emerged to retain the B-36 as a special purpose bomber, which would eventually be replaced by the B-52 (1953 at the earliest). The B-36 program avoided cancellation once again.

Fourth possible cancellation:

When it became obvious that a faster B-36 (designated B-36C, equipped with VDT engines) could not be obtained, the Air Force once more thought of cancelling the entire B-36 program. Yet, various factors had to be considered. Twenty-two of the basic and relatively slow B-36As were nearly completed by spring 1948. A great deal of money had already been spent on the controversial program. Therefore, the Air Force decided to postpone any decisions. It instructed Air Materiel Command to waive the modification of several shop-completed B-36As that had been awaiting adjustments, and to expedite their delivery. This would allow Convair to speed up the aircraft’s flight test program. Also, new yardsticks, the VR diagrams, were to be used to measure the B-36’s real performance against other bombers under similar conditions.

Test results, though not spectacular, favored the B-36. It seemed that the B-36, so maligned, might turn out to be a better airplane than had been expected. If so, any hasty reduction of the production contract might wreck the program, just as it was beginning to pay off. The beginning of the Russian blockade of West Berlin on Jun. 18, 1948, spared the Air Force’s indecision. USAF officials, deeply concerned by the Soviets’ aggression, unanimously agreed to stay with the B-36. The proposed 34 VDT-equipped B-36Cs would revert to the B-36B configuration, assuring the Air Force of getting 95 of the 100 B-36s under contract since June 1943. The B-36 was saved from cancellation another time.

Curtailment of the defense budget

Curtailment of the defense budget in 1949 brought interservice disagreements to a boil. The Air Force and the Navy had long recognized that whichever service possessed the atomic mission would eventually receive a larger share of the budget. Thus, they had grown more and more wary of each other’s strategic programs. Meanwhile, the B-36, the Air Force’s atomic carrier, had been the target of much criticism, even though few people had even seen it, let alone flown in it.

In early 1949, the B-36’s future was highly questionable. An anonymous document began making the rounds in the press, congressional, and aircraft industry circles charging that corruption had entered into the B-36’s selection, and that the aircraft’s performance did not live up to Air Force claims. In August, a second unsigned paper accused the Air Force of having greatly exaggerated the importance of strategic air warfare. The charges of corruption and favoritism were investigated by the Armed Services Committee of the House of Representatives, and were quickly proven false. On Aug. 25, 1949, the investigation closed, after clearing the Air Force and Convair.

Fifth possible cancellation:

However, hearings on the B-36 resumed in October. Briefly stated, the committee had to decide, at least for the time being, whether the nation should rely on massive retaliation with intercontinental bombers in case of attack, or depend upon the Navy’s fleet and air arm, to defend the North American continent. Even though there were doubts about the B-36’s ability to evade enemy fighters, the Air Force emerged triumphantly from the October hearings.

This direct challenge to the B-36, done in a very public national debate, resulted in the bomber being vindicated. The B-36 program was retained and AF avoided cancellation for the fifth time.

Convair B-36: A Comprehensive History of America’s “Big Stick” is published by Schiffer Publishing and is available to order here.

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

Flying the Line

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.

Lacklen is also the author of three books, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey, Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Two: Military Airlift Command and Flying the Line: An Air Force Pilot’s Journey Volume Three: Air Mobility Command. The following story comes the last book of the trilogy.

B-52 Arc Light mission

At the end of May, the B-52 Arc Light mission ended as the final three-ship cell, with our crew in the lead, departed U-Tapao. For many years, SAC crew members had joked about “putting out the Arc Light for good,” and here we were about to do just that. I had only flown two actual Arc Light bombing missions in 1973, and the rest of the crew had flown none, but we got to put out the “Light” for the thousands of crewmen who had flown the tens of thousands of hours over the previous ten years. They had done the heavy lifting; we had done little for the time we were at U-Tapao, but we got to take it home for good.

We would fly in cell formation until we reached the coast of California, then “two” and “three” would leave the formation to land at March AFB, CA, and we would continue on as a single ship to Carswell AFB, TX, a sixteen-hour mission.

Indignity

We had an indignity to suffer before takeoff, however. The staff told us to report an hour early so we could string up a room full of rattan furniture in the bomb bay to deliver to the deputy commander for operations at Carswell. This did not sit well. We faced a tortuously long mission without any extra duties, and this was an absolutely unnecessary task. No doubt one of the commanders at U-Tapao garnered a significant kudo for shipping the colonel’s furniture for free, but we were the ones providing the service. We hoped to be required to cycle the bomb bay doors en route over the Pacific, one final rattan bomb run.

(On a similar mission during Gulf War 1 in 1990, I had to personally deliver two live lobsters sent by General Colin Powell from Massachusetts to General Norman Schwarzkopf in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Getting them there alive was my assigned mission. I await my grandkids asking what I did during the war. Why, I babysat two lobsters!)

When the time came, the three B-52s sat behind the runway hold line awaiting permission for the final B-52 takeoff from U-Tapao. Then tower cleared us for takeoff. On interplane frequency, I said, “OK, guys, let’s take our Buffs and go home,” and with that we took off. As we climbed out the Gulf of Siam, U-Tapao fell silent for the first time in a decade and would largely remain that way.

Interesting things

At cruise over the Philippine Sea at 42,000 feet, two interesting things happened. First, a jet contrail passed over us. This was unusual because we were already at our max altitude over eight miles high, and the other contrail was so far above us I couldn’t see the aircraft. I decided it must be a U-2 or SR-71 spy plane because I didn’t expect to encounter any aircraft higher than we were, much less so far above us I would be unable to see it.

Next, a U.S. Navy ship broadcast on guard channel asking if any American military aircraft were in the area. We answered that we were, and he asked if we could go “cipher” mode, or the scrambled, secret mode on one of our radios. The ship said they had an unknown target apparently shadow them and asked if we could drop down and take a look. I said I’d have to get permission to do so because I couldn’t make my destination if I used the extra gas to chase a shadow.

Shortly thereafter, the ship said they had resolved the issue and we wouldn’t be needed. I thought, briefly, we might find an excuse to cycle the bomb bay doors to rain rattan on the mysterious shadow, but it was not to be. The Carswell colonel would get his damn furniture. As the final indignity, neither colonel met us at either end to thank us for our efforts.

Photo credit: U.S. Navy

NASA to bring back to fly SR-71 Blackbird?

27 years after it was retired, one of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) SR-71 Blackbird reconnaissance aircraft may soon fly again.

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.

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.

Tail No. 844 made the final flight of an SR-71 Blackbird on Oct. 9, 1999.

Photo credit: NASA