Posted on 03/31/2021 11:21:03 AM PDT by Red Badger
They were probably probably also tipped when the SR-71 was refueling for the terminal run into Murmansk. ie. they picked up a radar return on the KC-135Q and scrambled on that. This would have given them a detection advantage the Soviets didn’t have.
If you wait to “see” the SR-71 at speed & altitude you’ll never catch up and you certainly won’t have a chance for a head-on intercept of the type described.
The problem with satellites is that their tracks are predictable. You know when to hide things. One technician who worked for me was in the Air Force, and there were things that they had to put away due to when a certain satellite would fly over. As for drones hovering, it had better have a small RCS. Nice thing about the Blackbird/Oxcart/alleged successor is that it gives little notice and has limited exposure time. The Blackbird also had a low RCS.
“That’s the jet that runs on vegetable oil, right?”
That would be the Saab Veggan.
I don’t entirely discount it either. According to the write-up in Wikipedia the Swedes made the intercepts on the return leg and fed the ground-base radar track directly into the Viggen’s fire control computer. That’s how they beat the jamming from the Blackbird. Score 1 for the Swedish radar geeks.
We have satellites that don’t have fixed orbits. But there is that minor problem there.
Drones have a very tiny RCS, cause they’re tiny.
Ground Radioactive Reindeer meat is good though, almost no fat
I see what you did there!
Where have they parked the two-seater that grandpa bush flew in?
The Ultimate Ground Speed Check - Tales from the Blackbird
There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet.
Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Houston Center voice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.”
Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency.
You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout?
Then I got it, ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what?
As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now.
I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.
Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat.
That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?”
There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A.came back with, “Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.
For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.
You said “Got enough satellites in orbit that we can photograph whatever we want without the risk of detection.”
The SR-71 was retired at the beginning of 1990, thus it was not available to do recce flights over Iraq and especially Kuwait. After Saddam had the Kuwaiti oil fields set afire and along with the weather/sand storms there resulted in all of our satellites being “blind.” The only recce photo system available capable of penetrating that smoke/sand mixture were the cameras on the SR-71. Both the Army photo intelligence center (ITAC) and the National Photographic Interpretation Center (NPIC) requested (pleaded, I was told) to get a couple of the planes activated and deployed to that theater. DoD refused to authorize that reactivation. I was an intel analyst at ITAC when that happened.
See my post # 50 for a memory of my Army MI time.
“The point had been proven [and] it was clear the Blackbird could no longer fly wherever it pleased without being challenged.”
I can see the writer never played football. A receiver doesn’t run to a spot and wait for the ball. The quarterback throws to a spot the receiver is supposed to go to.
I was stationed at Beale AFB from 1976 to 1984. Blackbird was there and I had a chance to rub elbows with crew chiefs, pilots, camera folks, and unit personnel. I occasionally played racquet ball and squash with some of the people assigned to the 9th SRW. Part of the work I did was at the alert pad for them and the U2’s/TR’s.
Probably the main reason the SR’s and U2s were and are being fazed out is they are being replace by other means. Satellites have been launched and supported by drone activities so aircraft are almost no longer needed. The disappearance of the alert facilities around the world are another example of the cutback. We still have radar capacity like pave paws for world wide eye in the sky to support the machines. So it wasn’t just replacement as much as just outdated.
As for being the fastest, you might want to look up information on the A-12 Oxcart. Higher and faster than the SR. And the speeds they are talking about is for level flight. Neither flew level very much.
wy69
Beautiful bird built by a God-fearing country using slide rules.
“The point had been proven [and] it was clear the Blackbird could no longer fly wherever it pleased without being challenged.”
I can see the writer never played football. A receiver doesn’t run to a spot and wait for the ball. The quarterback throws to a spot the receiver is supposed to go to.
I was stationed at Beale AFB from 1976 to 1984. Blackbird was there and I had a chance to rub elbows with crew chiefs, pilots, camera folks, and unit personnel. I occasionally played racquet ball and squash with some of the people assigned to the 9th SRW. Part of the work I did was at the alert pad for them and the U2’s/TR’s.
Probably the main reason the SR’s and U2s were and are being fazed out is they are being replace by other means. Satellites have been launched and supported by drone activities so aircraft are almost no longer needed. The disappearance of the alert facilities around the world are another example of the cutback. We still have radar capacity like pave paws for world wide eye in the sky to support the machines. So it wasn’t just replacement as much as just outdated.
As for being the fastest, you might want to look up information on the A-12 Oxcart. Higher and faster than the SR. And the speeds they are talking about is for level flight. Neither flew level very much.
But here’s some info a lot people don’t know about the SR71: they were true gas guzzlers and burned JP-7, a much hotter fuel. After takeoff they required refueling and were serviced by a special refueling aircraft, the KC135Q/T that burned JP-4 but dispensed JP-7. Without refueling, a blackbird had a maximum operational range of about 3000 miles after take off and refuel. It was fast, but it was expensive and had a limited use because of the speed.
wy69
I saw Offut once in the 60s when I was a kid. But I never wanted to go back as it must be full of it after the many decades we all in SAC spent flushing twice.
There’s one at the Cosmosphere in Hutchinson, Kansas.
There’s also head fakes where we want to trick potential enemies into thinking that something can be done that usually can’t so they’ll at least waste some resources trying to copy the “victory.”
An oldie...and a goodie!!!
They don’t have “fixed” orbits because they have fuel to adjust orbits. Only just so much fuel, so their delta-vee is limited. Such an orbital change also has to be done in advance. It can’t be an abrupt change, again a finite amount of delta-vee is carried.
Any adversary with sufficient National Technical Means would be tracking the satellite and notice the orbital change.
My wife’s cousin was a Blackbird driver.
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