Wings

GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

Turducken dismissed

Posted on October 14, 2025October 16, 2025 by Mike 12 Comments

Ooops ooops oooopsie.

US gov’t admits F-35 is a failure
With some wonky, hard to decipher language, a recent GAO report concluded the beleaguered jet will never meet expectations

Nearly a quarter century after the Pentagon awarded Lockheed Martin the contract to develop the Joint Strike Fighter Program into the F-35, the government finally admitted the jet will never live up to Lockheed’s ambitious promises — used to sell the $2 trillion boondoggle to nearly 20 countries around the world.

By admitting that the program cannot deliver the jets that were promised is really an admission that the entire project is a failure. The implications of that could be profound beyond the money that has been wasted throughout the past quarter century. There are 19 countries that either already are, or will shortly, operate F-35s after buying them from the United States. Several countries like the United Kingdom, Norway, and Italy have been a part of the program well before Lockheed Martin won the contract to develop the F-35. These countries have invested heavily in the program with the expectation that they would receive the most combat capable aircraft in history. All have seen their costs rise throughout the years and now they find out that the jets will never live up to the hype.

So, in addition to being a military disaster, the F-35 many also prove to be a foreign relations disaster as well. F-35 boosters in the United States sold the jet to the leaders of these countries with elaborate pitches of the combat capabilities they planned to deliver. There were also promises made early in the process about the program’s affordability, which seem comical today. The next time an American attempts to sell a “transformative” weapon abroad, they shouldn’t be terribly surprised if a potential customer expresses skepticism. F-35 customers have paid a fortune above the quoted price, receiving only a fraction of what was promised. The United States may find a shrinking market for weapons exports in the years ahead.

This should be a moment of deep reflection for the entire national security establishment. The F-35 was never going to live up to expectations because its very concept was deeply flawed. Trying to build one jet that could serve as a multi-role aircraft to meet the needs of just a single military branch is a highly risky proposition. When you try to build a single jet to meet the multi-role needs of at least 15 separate militaries, while also being a global jobs program and political patronage scheme, you get a $2 trillion albatross.

But…but…but…WAIT!! You mean to tell me that “one aize fits all” never fits anything? That the much-ballyhooed “all-purpose” tools, hunting-fishing-camping gear, and kitchen contraptions rarely function even semi-adequately at ONE purpose? That those mini-trucks (ie, Ford Ranger, Chevy WhateverTheFuck) that were en vogue for a while there weren’t actually very good pick-em-up trucks (what with their short, narrow, shallow cargo area; anemic powerplant; lack of towing/hauling capacity, and other shortcomings) but performed even worse as cars, owing to their uncomfortable seats; Spartan interior appointments; godawful ergonomics, and sundry other “creature comforts” that would make Torquemada himself blush to contemplate, handling even a homebuilt Go-Kart wuuld sneer at; and harsh, bruising ride?

So now we are to accept that those so-called enduro “dual-purpose” bikes—built to impersonate a lean, mean, motocross machine, but also overly gussied-up with the mandatory head, tail, and brake lights, turn signals, and horn that make the “enduro” machines (barely) street-legal, plus generously padded two-up seats, non-cleated footpegs that seem to actively draw mud like a lamp does bugs, and mediocre semi-knobby tires which were useless in the woods and actually hazardous on pavement—pig-in-a-poke motorcycles some people were foolish enough to shell out for in the erroneous belief they were getting the best of both worlds, although the painful truth was that these “dual-purpose” bikes were every bit as shitty in the dirt as they were on the street?

I can’t so much as hear or read “F-35 Thunderbolt II” nowadays without remembering all the aforementioned hunks of junk, I really can’t. The one and only safe assumption to make any time some slicky-boy salesjerk starts in telling you that this car, bike, truck, whatever can really do it all! is that no, it can’t do ANYTHING very well. And with that blinding flash of insight and enlightenment you take to your heels and head for the hills with great alacrity, before your Newest Bestest Buddy here at Auto/Cycle/Truck/Camping/Tool World© can draw breath and flick out his forked tongue to hiss another fucking gigantic lie.

What, the USAF design/procurement doofi didn’t think designing, engineering, and building a new military aircraft was tough enough as it was? They thought it would be just a super-neat idea to work up a 5th generation all-weather day-night intercepter/CAS/attack-bomber/air-supremacy strike-fighter from scratch, a virtuoso airborne Death From Above dealer-outer complete with

Invisible to radar Stealth construction
STOL-VSTOL-STOVL capability
Designed and built robustly enough to survive multitudinous man-and-machine-kiling catapult launches and arrester-wire traps which are the standard fare of life on an aircraft carrier
Bleeding-edge avionics, comms, and electronic-warfare suites also tough enough to ditto
Supersonic flight, multi-G rate of climb and turn, extremely high ceiling
Solid gold, platinum, and authentic diamond EVERYDAMNEDTHING
So much other cool, ultra-futuristic shite you just can’t even

Although I’ve poked a goodish amount of fun at the poor F35, I did rein it in at least somewhat, figuring that, given five-six years to get all the inevitable bugs worked out, the Turducken might still turn out to be a durn good plane despite…well, pretty much EVERYthing. After all, the old familiar tale of the puny, weak-kneed, sickly kid down the block who eventually grows up to be a sturdy, capable adult is applicable to way more than just airplanes, y’know.

For instinks: I remember when the H-D Evolution engine came out, back in—what, 84, 85, thereabouts? Hawked for several years pre-release by Harley bigwigs as the most wonderful thing since sliced bread, the Evo-powered bikes turned out to be…mehhh. not too good. After years of looking forward to H-D’s first redesign/upgrade since a consortium of H-D execs headed by Vaughn Beals had bought Harley-D back from the despised AMF wreckers who had been running the last American motorcycle manufacturer into the ground since 1970*, this spanking new Evolution motor turned out to be a SERIOUS disappointment to pretty much everybody but the dastardly fiends at Yamazukisaki Corp Co, Inc.

Leaky, underpowered, unreliable, chattering and clanking from the valve train louder than even the AMF Shovelheads, the vaunted Evo powerplant nearly sank beneath the crushing weight of its own inadequacy before the Milwaukee brain-trust could so much as furrow their brows, scratch their heads, and mutter bilious imprecations. But after a few seriously rocky years years, the kinks had all been ironed out, the bugs squashed, and HEY PRESTO! Finally, the Evo had lived up fully to the typhoon of hype to become what, in my opinion, was and stil is the absolute best engine Harley has ever made, or ever will make.

And then there’s a story pretty much every worth-his-salt military history buff knows: the true-life saga of North American Aviation’s iconic P51 Mustang. Initially burdened with an Allison not-turbocharger-equipped engine, a long-since proven dog of an engine, the Mustang was an allegedly aerodynamic flying turd which was slow, not especially maneuverable, saddled with a piss-poor rate of climb, a relatively low ceiling, and truly abysmal performance at what meager altitude it could achieve. Unsurprisingly, next to the rough-and-tough Republic P47 Thunderbolt the Mustang was a pitiful excuse for a fighter/pursuit/escort plane; it had pretty much zero (0) admirers through its unimpressive A thru C versions.

Until the frabjous day, that is, when some clever Brit with sufficient rank, juice, and pull whispered into the right RAF ear his own crackpot idea for redeeming the unloved P51: let’s try swapping out the woefully inadequate Allison with Rolls Royce’s red-hot Merlin engine! The results of which ingenious mod stunned the whole world by transmogrifying an underfed, scraggly, mange-rife cur into a fast, powerful, deadly Hun’s Bane.

Thanks to the Merlin mill which might have been built with North American’s ugly duckling specifically in mind, the Mustang instantly became the verymost superb plane to emerge from the fiery WW2 air-war forge, acknowledged by everyone except diehard devotees of the Supermarine Spitfire as The Plane That Won The War.

Hell, the born-again-hard P51D was so amazingly bad-ass that no lesser a light than the incomparable Chuck Yeager became one of the small handful of Allied Mustang-jocks to shoot down the first jet fighter ever, the Luftwaffe’s fearsome Me262 Schwalbe, which could handily fly rings around everything else in the sky at that time and, but for some serious fuck-uppery on the stupid, maniacal dictator s’cuse me, military GENIUS Hitler’s part, might well have reversed the course of the entire war on its own hook had it burst onto the Western Front scene sooner, in larger numbers.

So yes, despite my making sport of the ill-starred apteryx jet, I nonetheless held out some small hope that the F35 might come into its own eventually, thereby confirming yet again that I am in fact a dad-gum idiot. However, the above-mentioned announcement sounds as if the USG and/or the Navy, Chair Farce, USMC, and everyone else that matters has decided to throw in the towel on this inadvisable attempt at force-fitting a single aircraft into every conceivable role somehow.

Oh well—designed by committee, approved by bureaucrat, and built by hapless incompetents, the Turducken was so jaw-droppingly expensive I imagine there wasn’t a great deal of enthusiasm to be found for flushing several billion more trying to make the PoS right at long last. At some point, it’s time to stop throwing good money after bad, and just move on to the next project.

What I think will be the really interesting aspect of this dumpster-inferno will be learning whether Amerika v2.0 remains functional enough to produce a world-dominating warplane anymore; the spectacular crash ’n’ burn of the F35 constitutes powerful evidence against, seems to me.

* A LITTLE HISTORY: AMF purchased Harley-Davidson in late 1969; the first model year featuring all-original AMF designs was 1971 (the ugly-as-a-mud-fence boattail 71 Stupid Glide; the big brother to 1970’s boattail Sportster; the wildly and eternally popular Low Rider; and the slow, heavy, poor-handling, unpopular then but a sought-after collector’s item today, the 1978 XLCR Sportster pseudo-cafe racer, all these conceptualized and designed by affable and beloved legatee chump Wille G Davidson

The almighty Mustang

Posted on March 19, 2025March 19, 2025 by Mike

As I’ve long maintained, the Supermarine Spitfire won the Battle of Britain, certainly, and fair enough; credit where due. But if it can be fairly said of any one plane—be it fighter, bomber, pursuit, escort, etc—it was North American Aviation’s P51 Mustang that won the war.

Tommy Hitchcock, one of America’s most renowned polo players and the youngest American to win a pilot’s commission during the First World War, has become the archetype of the potency of individual human achievement.

Born on Feb. 11, 1900, in Aiken, South Carolina, the soft-spoken Hitchcock rose to prominence for his aggressive, hard charging ways during polo matches. His marriage to a Mellon family heiress in 1928 only helped to cement his celebrity status.

Actor David Bruce called Hitchcock the “only perfect man he had ever met,” while F. Scott Fitzgerald modeled two characters after him — writing that the athlete-turned successful businessman was “high in my pantheon of heroes.”

During World War I, the teenaged Hitchcock downed two German planes — for which he was awarded the Croix de Guerre — before being shot down inside German territory on March 6, 1918.

Badly wounded, Hitchcock spent several months recuperating inside a German POW camp before, according to author Lynn Olson’s account in “Citizens of London,” the 18-year-old pilot, who was in transit to another camp, “stole a map from a sleeping guard and leaped from the train. Escaping detection, he hiked nearly a hundred miles to neutral Switzerland.”

Upon America’s entry into the Second World War, the 41-year-old volunteered his services as a fighter pilot but was turned down personally by Gen. Hap Arnold, chief of staff of the U.S. Army Air Forces, for being above the flying age.

Frustrated, the well-connected Hitchcock turned to his old friend John Gilbert Winant, who was, at that time, the U.S. ambassador to Great Britain. Winant, according to Olson, suggested that the polo player-turned-fighter pilot-turned investment banker come to London as assistant U.S. military attaché to act as a liaison between the Eighth Air Force and the Royal Air Force’s Fighter command.

Hitchcock accepted the job on the spot.

Conceived by a German émigré who had once designed Messerschmitt fighters before fleeing to America, the P-51 — built by California’s North American Aviation Co. — was initially planned as an RAF low-level tactical fighter-bomber.

Hitchcock was stunned. The performance of the P-51, when fitted with a British Merlin engine, could “go as fast and as far as the bombers without losing its fighting characteristics,” historian Donald Miller wrote. It was, he noted, “the plane the Bomber Mafia had claimed was impossible to build.”

Despite this, Hitchcock’s superiors remained unimpressed and rejected the introduction of the American-British hybrid fighter.

“Sired by the English out of an American mother, the Mustang had no parent in the [Air Force] … to appreciate and push its good points,” Hitchcock wrote in 1942.

The Mustang, however, would soon find an adopted parent in Hitchcock.

The former fighter pilot became relentless in his quest to adapt the aircraft into the best fighter on the Western Front.

If you’re anything like the avid military aviation buff I’ve been my entire life, you aren’t going to want to miss a single word of this compelling, in-depth slice of real, true history—a must-read if ever there was one. Excellent pics, too. Notable quote:

“The story of the P-51,″ the official wartime history of the USAAF declared, “came close to representing the costliest mistake made by the Army Air Forces in World War II.”

One among many similar near-fatal errors, sad to say, which is but par for the usual course in wartime. Thanks so very much to our old friend Stephen for the steer to this top-notch article.

Intrepid oddity

Posted on January 29, 2025January 29, 2025 by Mike

For some reason I got to thinking about the USS Intrepid Museum at NYC’s Pier 86 and 46th Street, on the Hudson River. This in turn got me to poking around for the Intrepid Museum’s origin story, in the course of which I found a decidedly curious item, which I’ll put in bold so’s you don’t miss it. To wit:

The museum was proposed in the late 1970s as a way to preserve Intrepid, and it opened on August 3, 1982. The Intrepid Museum Foundation filed for bankruptcy protection in 1985 after struggling to attract visitors. The foundation acquired USS Growler and the destroyer USS Edson in the late 1980s to attract guests and raise money, although it remained unprofitable through the 1990s. The museum received a minor renovation in 1998 after it started turning a profit. Between 2006 and 2008, the Intrepid Museum was completely closed for a $115 million renovation. A new pavilion for the Space Shuttle Enterprise opened in 2012.

The Intrepid Museum spans three of the carrier’s decks; from top to bottom, they are the flight, hangar, and gallery decks. Most of the museum’s collection is composed of aircraft, which are exhibited on the flight deck. Among the museum’s collection are a Concorde SST, a Lockheed A-12 (a/ka the SR71 Blackbird; I’ve seen it, it’s awesome—M) supersonic reconnaissance plane, and the Space Shuttle Enterprise. The hangar and gallery decks contain a variety of attractions such as exhibit halls, a theater, and flight simulators, as well as individual objects like a cockpit and an air turbine. Several craft and other objects have been sold off or removed from the museum’s collection over the years. The museum serves as a space for community and national events, such as Fleet Week and awards ceremonies.

Mayor Ed Koch announced plans for the Intrepid’s conversion in mid-April 1981, and the United States Department of the Navy transferred the Intrepid to Fisher, who led the nonprofit Intrepid Museum Foundation, on April 27, 1981. The conversion of the carrier’s top two decks cost $22 million and was funded by $2.4 million in private donations, as well as $15.2 million of tax-exempt bonds and $4.5 million from the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development. After the New York City Board of Estimate gave the Intrepid Museum Foundation permission to sell tax-exempt bonds in December 1980, the bonds were sold to the public in July 1981. The federal grant was approved in January 1982, even though the project “had nothing to do with housing”. The renovation involved the addition of a theater, several planes on Intrepid’s deck, and aviation and maritime exhibit halls. The carrier’s navigation and flight bridges were also restored. The city spent around $2.5 million to renovate Pier 86 on the West Side of Manhattan, where Intrepid was to be docked. The museum leased the pier from the city for 33 years at $50,000 per year, making annual payments in lieu of taxes totaling $400,000.

Now, I’ve toured the Intrepid a whole bunch of times over the years, spending hours upon hours prowling the old girl’s flight deck closely inspecting the remarkable variety of air- and/or spacecraft resident thereon, and have thoroughly enjoyed every last one of said visits. So far be it from me to carp overmuch about it, but still: HUD? SRSLY?!? WTAF, man?

Ah well, whatevs. I’m just happy to know that the Intrepid Museum—having somehow survived years of sparse attendance, financial woes, and even one (1) filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 1985 (!)—is still afloat and open for public viewing by cake-eating civilians, military aviation buffs, veterans both retired and active-duty, and assorted looky-loos with some free time on their hands alike. If you’ve never been and find yourself at loose ends in NYC some fine day, I can think of a great many worse ways to kill an idle afternoon (weather permitting, natch) than a trip to Midtown West to stroll the Intrepid’s decks. Two snaps enthusiastically Up, and highly, highly recommended.

Having likewise toured the USS North Carolina and the USS Yorktown many times*, I can assure you that, good as they were—and they were—neither of those thankfully-preserved pieces of real, true American history can so much as hold a candle to the USS Intrepid, and that’s a fact.

* As well as the Brit destroyer HMS Bristol once, when she made a Wilmington port call on her way back from the Falklands dustup, a few Jack Tar swabbies took in a show the BPs did there, and graciously invited us out to the boat the next day, even going so far as to bring us below decks to drink piss-warm English beer, smoke a few fags, and share a few laughs with ‘em; great guys all, those lads were

BADASS!

Posted on January 8, 2025January 8, 2025 by Mike

Never let anyone tell ya that all female pilots suck, that girls can’t fly, that they have no business in a cockpit much less doing aerobatics. T’ain’t so, McGee.

That stunning krasivaya devushka is one Svetlana Kapanina, about as badass as they come regardless of gender. Biographical info:

Kapanina was born on 28 December 1968 in Shchuchinsk, Kokchetav Oblast, Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (now Akmola Region, Republic of Kazakhstan). She dedicated herself to several sports modalities at school and always liked motorcycles and other motor vehicles. She enrolled at medical school in Tselinograd (now Astana), where she graduated in pharmaceutical sciences. She started flying at age 19, in 1988, on a Sukhoi Su-26M3, while working as a technician at the Kurgan sports aviation club of DOSAAF. By 1991 she was already an instructor pilot at DOSAAF’s Irkutsk club, and then back at Kurgan. Also in 1991, she became a member of the Russian national aerobatic team. In 1995 she graduated from Kaluga aeronautical technical school.

She lives in Moscow with her husband and two children.

Kapanina was World Aerobatic Champion in the women’s category in 1996, 1998, 2001, 2003, 2005, 2007 and 2011 and has won the title more times than any other pilot in the category. Additionally, she was overall World Air Games Champion in 1997 and 2001.

Together with Mikhail Mamistov and Oleg Spolyansky, she won the team gold medal in the 16th FAI European Aerobatic Championships 2008 in Hradec Králové (Czech Republic). She placed fourth overall and was best female participant.

Known in the aviation/aerobatics community as “the Queen of Heaven” (a fitting nick if I’ve ever heard one), Svetlana’s flying is precise, bold, and sure. Lots more videos of her throwing both piston-engine and jet aircraft all over the sky with grace and aplomb on YewToob; the above-embedded one is only an appetizer to an extremely tasty meal.

Update! All this talk about females in aviation got me to thinking about an awesome wingwalker chick I saw at the annual Warbirds air show in Monroe, the unstoppable Ashley Battles, way back in 2013. A pic I took of daredevil Ashley dismounting her trademark “Wonder Woman” 1943 Stearman right after she and her pilot—no slouch himself when it comes to airborne swashbucklery—had returned safe, sound, and fit as fiddles to good old terra firma following a flawless demonstration of the wingwalker’s art.

Had the privilege of speaking with Ashley for about ten-fifteen minutes after that photo was snapped; she was just as friendly and gracious as could be, bless her fearless heart—all smiles and cool as some cucumbers, although it was also plain to see that she was riding an adrenaline rush the likes of which the ground-bound will never know. More from America’s most trustworthy news source: the Weekly World News.

Ashley Battles holds the world record for remaining on the wings of a plane for a staggering four hours and two minutes.

She performed at high altitude two weeks after fellow airborne stuntwoman Jane Wicker died when her biplane plummeted into the ground with her on the wing.

Ashley, who has clocked up over 100 flights so far in her career, bravely stepped onto her plane in Colinville, Oklahoma this weekend.

She admits that as she only uses the simplest safety gear, she relies heavily on her physical and mental strength when performing.

She said: ‘It takes someone who is able to flip a switch in their mind to wing walk; someone who is able to not think about how high off the ground they are or how close to the ground you get or how hard it can be to move along the wing.’

Fearless Ashely is faced with speeds up to 70 knots as she performs on the wings while the plane spirals, twists, loops and barrels above screaming crowds at up to 10 air shows a year.

The young dare devil has developed a way to cope with the pressure on high altitudes – listening to music.

She added: ‘When I am standing up there that long, I’m thinking about everything from what I get to eat later to just contemplating life. I’m also listening to my iPod.

‘There’s of course the danger of possible engine failure. Hitting a bird while a wing walker is atop the wings could be a pretty terrible event.’

Yeah, I can see how that might really, really suck.

Never have been fortunate enough to take to the skies in a classic Stearman myself, but I did hitch a ride once in the next best thing: the front seat of a beautiful red Waco biplane.

In a Waco (WAH-KO, not WAY-KO, for you poor, deprived groundhogs) the pilot is the rear-seater (see photo), but both cockpits are equipped with a full complement of controls, instruments, and gauges—stick, rudder pedals, throttle, altimeter, airspeed indicator, etc—which I was sternly instructed before saddling up not to mess with or touch for any reason. I didn’t bother protesting that I’d known how to fly since age 13, was probably as familiar with the appropriate-in-flight-behavior drill as they were, and knew better than to be clowning around at 2500 feet. I figured they wouldn’t believe me, and it didn’t matter either to me or them anyway.

I climbed up and in, donned the traditional leather helmet and goggles, and off we went, into the Wild Blue Yonder. It was GREAT, lemme tell ya. Other than getting 20 minutes of stick time in a Douglas A-1D Skyraider, the Waco flight was by far the most fun I’ve ever had in the air.

Wingwalkers, of course, have been around since the pioneering days of powered flight, many if not most of them women, including the legendary Gladys Roy, Lillian Boyer, and Gladys Ingle, to all of which brave, daring souls I humbly doff my cap. Much as I’ve always loved me some flying, ain’t no way in the world you’d ever coax me out of that comfy, safe cockpit to go cavorting about on the wings, fuselage, landing gear, or anyplace else. Not on your life, bub. As with skydiving, I see no reason to be jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, nor standing on the wing of one neither. It would have to be on fire at the very minimum, and even then I’d need some time to think it over.

I also have a short video of Ashley and her aerial chaffeur doing a high-speed (for a Stearman) pass low over the runway, climbing to slightly higher altitude, then executing a heart-stopping barrel roll with Ms Battles insouciantly leaning back against the frame atop the biplane’s wing visible in the above pic—Smoke On for dramatic effect the whole while. Tried hand-coding an embed of it, but unfortunately couldn’t get the blasted thing to work.

True horror story

Posted on October 27, 2024October 27, 2024 by Mike

Flying the SR71 Blackbird in the early stages of its development was assuredly NOT for pussies.

BILL WEAVER SR-71 Breakup
Dec 6, 1928 – July 28, 2021

Among professional aviators, there’s a well-worn saying: Flying is simply hours of boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror. And yet, I don’t recall too many periods of boredom during my 30-year career with Lockheed, most of which was spent as a test pilot.

By far, the most memorable flight occurred on Jan. 25, 1966. Jim Zwayer, a Lockheed flight test reconnaissance and navigation systems specialist, and I were evaluating those systems on an SR-71 Blackbird test from Edwards AFB, Calif. We also were investigating procedures designed to reduce trim drag and improve high-Mach cruise performance. The latter involved flying with the center-of-gravity (CG) located further aft than normal, which reduced the Blackbird’s longitudinal stability.

We took off from Edwards at 11:20 a.m. and completed the mission’s first leg without incident. After refueling from a KC-135 tanker, we turned eastbound, accelerated to a Mach 3.2-cruise speed and climbed to 78,000 ft., our initial cruise-climb altitude.

Several minutes into cruise, the right engine inlet’s automatic control system malfunctioned, requiring a switch to manual control. The SR-71’s inlet configuration was automatically adjusted during supersonic flight to decelerate air flow in the duct, slowing it to subsonic speed before reaching the engine’s face. This was accomplished by the inlet’s center-body spike translating aft, and by modulating the inlet’s forward bypass doors. Normally, these actions were scheduled automatically as a function of Mach number, positioning the normal shock wave (where air flow becomes subsonic) inside the inlet to ensure optimum engine performance.

Without proper scheduling, disturbances inside the inlet could result in the shock wave being expelled forward–a phenomenon known as an “inlet unstart.” That causes an instantaneous loss of engine thrust, explosive banging noises and violent yawing of the aircraft–like being in a train wreck. Unstarts were not uncommon at that time in the SR-71’s development, but a properly functioning system would recapture the shock wave and restore normal operation.

On the planned test profile, we entered a programmed 35-deg. bank turn to the right. An immediate unstart occurred on the right engine, forcing the aircraft to roll further right and start to pitch up. I jammed the control stick as far left and forward as it would go. No response. I instantly knew we were in for a wild ride.

I attempted to tell Jim what was happening and to stay with the airplane until we reached a lower speed and altitude. I didn’t think the chances of surviving an ejection at Mach 3.18 and 78,800 ft. were very good. However, g-forces built up so rapidly that my words came out garbled and unintelligible, as confirmed later by the cockpit voice recorder.

The cumulative effects of system malfunctions, reduced longitudinal stability, increased angle-of-attack in the turn, supersonic speed, high altitude and other factors imposed forces on the airframe that exceeded flight control authority and the Stability Augmentation System’s ability to restore control.

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. I learned later the time from event onset to catastrophic departure from controlled flight was only 2-3 sec. Still trying to communicate with Jim, I blacked out, succumbing to extremely high g-forces. The SR-71 then literally disintegrated around us. From that point, I was just along for the ride.

My next recollection was a hazy thought that I was having a bad dream. Maybe I’ll wake up and get out of this mess, I mused. Gradually regaining consciousness, I realized this was no dream; it had really happened. That also was disturbing, because I could not have survived what had just happened. Therefore, I must be dead. Since I didn’t feel bad–just a detached sense of euphoria–I decided being dead wasn’t so bad after all. AS FULL AWARENESS took hold, I realized I was not dead, but had somehow separated from the airplane. I had no idea how this could have happened; I hadn’t initiated an ejection. The sound of rushing air and what sounded like straps flapping in the wind confirmed I was falling, but I couldn’t see anything. My pressure suit’s face plate had frozen over and I was staring at a layer of ice.

Read on at the link for the rest of Bill’s incredible, hair-raising tale of flyboy derring-do. Probably not one you want to save for your next transcontinental flight, I’m thinkin’.

TRIGGERED!

Posted on October 15, 2024 by Mike

To hell with Presidents, of any and every partisan stripe: Elon Musk for God-Emperor of Earth, I say.

Elon Musk works another miracle as Lilliputian progs snipe
Elon Musk is working miracles with rockets, but a bunch of California apparatchiks want to stop his launches because of…his tweets.

The immigrant genius stunned the world Sunday as his SpaceX landed a reusable Starship booster back on the launchpad.

This is a huge tech advance, bringing launch costs down by a factor of ten and advancing space exploration and exploitation by decades.

Meanwhile, the California Coastal Commission just rejected the Space Force’s request for more frequent SpaceX launches on the Golden State’s Central Coast by a vote of six to four, with some of the “nays” specifically citing Musk’s political speech.

Ayn Rand must be spinning in her grave…or laughing at how so-called “progressives” spurn actual progress when driven by a truly independent mind.

Meanwhile, bet on Musk to beat the Lilliputians: Expect him to launch the first manned mission to Mars from Texas, which has the good sense to welcome him and all his businesses.

“Lilliputian” would definitely be the mot juste here.

Virginia Tech academic: Stop sending humans into space — it’s ‘imperialist’
The ‘inclusion of more social scientists’ needed at NASA, etc.

Yet another university academic is warning about continued human space exploration due to its “imperialist mindset.”

Savannah Mandel, a PhD candidate at Virginia Tech and an “outer space anthropologist,” adds to what seems to be a trendy argument about investigations into outer space.

According to Virginia Tech News, Mandel’s book “Ground Control: An Argument for the End of Human Space Exploration” argues that “rushing to send more humans to space […] mirrors an imperialist mindset that harms Earth’s humanity and environment.”

Maybe if you threatened to hold your breath until you turn blue, sweet-cheeks. That usually works for ya, right?

Vengeance is mine

Posted on July 20, 2024July 20, 2024 by Mike

Sayeth Southwest Airlines, and it’s pretty gol-danged schweet.

Apparently, it could be a genuine, bona fide SWA Tweet. Although the linked article pooh-poohs that out of hand, saying that SWA hasn’t posted anything at all on X since January in favor of (UGHHGAGBLECCHHH!) Instagram, I’m with Fox Mulder: I WANT to believe! Whoever is behind this, GREAT one, guys.

A notable exception

Posted on June 17, 2024June 17, 2024 by Mike

To the society-wrecking Didn’t Earn It rule.

The Pursuit of Excellence
Amazon’s Blue Angels reminds us that there are still places where excellence is the rule, rather than the exception.

These days, it’s very easy to become disillusioned as an American citizen. Spend any time at all watching what passes for “the news” and it quickly becomes clear that this country is facing an acute crisis of competency. We have Federal Court Justice nominees willing to admit in televised hearings, without shame, that they don’t know the most basic facts about what is in the United States Constitution. We have senior Government officials who can’t keep the ports open or the borders closed. And we are a country where the survival of storied American companies is in jeopardy because they can’t manage to bolt a door onto an airplane properly, successfully market beer, the easiest-to-sell product humans have ever created, or make movies that people actually want to see.

Which is why I think it’s important for every American to watch the new JJ Abrams-produced Amazon documentary THE BLUE ANGELS. It is a fine reminder that there are still institutions in this Nation where the bare minimum standard is excellence, and where perfection is pursued relentlessly, even though it may be an unattainable goal.

There are 141 men and women in the Blue Angels unit, but only 6 of them fly the iconic blue and yellow F-18s. The rest are support staff…everything from the Doctor to the Crew Chiefs who make sure the jets are ready and safe to fly, to the mechanics and the supply officers who load the unit’s gear onto the C-130 Hercules nicknamed “Fat Albert.” These latter are not the stars of the show, but you wouldn’t know it to watch them work. The pride of being part of an elite unit where success depends on everyone…everyone…pursuing excellence in everything they do is evident in the smiles on their faces, the exuberant high-fives and the choreographed celebrations that come with the completion of even the smallest tasks.

Watch the men and women in the unit as they say goodbye to one another at the end of a successful season and you’ll see what being a part of an institution where excellence is the minimum acceptable standard does to the human spirit. Everyone, from the “Boss” to the most junior supply officer seems to radiate joy.

In The Blue Angels, we see a world where corrosive concepts like Diversity Equity and Inclusion (DEI) have not been able to gain a foothold, because they are unnecessary. Institutions like The Blue Angels, where the only thing that stands between the pilots and death is everyone on the team performing at the absolute top of their game, don’t need DEI because when you take only the very best, you wind up with a team that “looks like America.” Because that’s what America is and that’s who Americans are.

DEI would destroy the Blue Angels because it creates distrust, that is its very nature. And as the Blue Angels’ Commander points out during a segment on crew selection, when you’re flying a cluster of fighter aircraft at near supersonic speeds only twelve inches apart, no one cares about gender or skin color…they only care about two things…“are you the best?” and “can I trust you?”

As you look at the Blue Angels crew you quickly notice that men and women of color are, if anything, over-represented relative to their raw population numbers. It’s tempting to conclude that this is what happens to “marginalized” populations when you raise standards and expectations, rather than lower them. To take it a step further, it may be that within this small microcosm of military readiness are the solutions to many of the worst problems currently plauging our culture.

“Tempting to conclude etc,” is it? That’s a whale of a dodge, seems to me, and a damned dangerous one too; it’s as obvious as it is inescapable, more like, a hard-nosed reality that shitlib imbeciles have spent many years laboring to ignore, denigrate, and supplant in favor of the very PC gibberish that has been the ruination of this once-great nation.

My dear departed Naval-aviator cousin Reggie, who used to post here back in the day as Cuz Regbo, traveled with the Blues for several months trying to decide whether to accept their offer to join. Eventually he declined, opting instead for a stint at the Naval War College. Not that Reg didn’t have tremendous respect for the Blue Angels team, of course; he did. He just felt that the War College would be a better move strictly in terms of career advancement. As I told him then, just being invited to try out at all for the Blues was an achievement of the highest imaginable order.

Reggie’s choice to put career advancement over the powerfully alluring pleasures of one more year of cutting-edge jet-jockeying would soon prove to be the right one, as fate would have it. He was already closing in on the age-out point of his fighter-flying days anyway, he knew. Meanwhile, his Master’s-level course of instruction in

How to drink continuously at parties, for hours, without losing your composure, your politesse, your above-the-fray dignity and suavete, and your basic power of coherent speech
How to schmooze courteously with contemptible, toadying, diplo-dink rumpswabs to whom you ordinarily wouldn’t lower yourself to even speak
Which fancy-schmancy fork goes on which side of the fancy-schmancy plate, and why you absolutely MUST pretend it matters
The proper care, arranging, and wearing of the US Navy Formal Dress Uniform (Officer, Male), as specified by the CNO
Sundry other arcane intricacies of life as a fully-functioning US Embassy überweenie

led to plum appointments first as Assistant Naval Attaché to France, then as Naval Attaché to Argentina—where poor Regbo wound up dying much too young of a massive heart attack whilst driving in to work at the Embassy there—heart attacks long having been the bane of all Carpenters and Painters, tragically enough. His immediate family still misses that boy terribly, as do his colleagues, as do I myself.

Anyhoo, as Stephen notes, “Demand excellence and you’ll get it.” True, dat. As is my corollary: settle for less, and you…won’t. The past few years have provided proof aplenty of that proposition—all anybody ought to need and then some, I should think.

Update! What the hey, here’s a pic of me and Regbo in happier days, at an airshow he flew a demo in.

Got no idea why we picked that particular F18 to pose in front of, it ain’t Reggie’s plane—the one with Regbo’s handle stenciled under the canopy was parked up nearby, if I remember right. Guess we were just too damned lazy to shag our tired asses over there for the photo. The cap I have on was a gift from Reg which I still wear all the time to this very day, featuring the logo and artwork of the squadron Reg commanded: Strike Fighter Squadron VFA83, the Rampagers. You oughta see that poor, battered old Rampager hat today, I’ve wore that thing slap out.

A rowdy, a rakehell, a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky rapscallion his entire life long, that was CAPT Reggie P Carpenter. Still can hardly believe he’s gone, bless his soul.

First legit, confirmed UFO photo released!

Posted on May 23, 2024 by Mike

Oddly, it appears to be in USAF livery.

Just joshin’, that’s one of the first shots of the new B21 in flight. The Chair Farce has dubbed its new play-purty the “Raider,” which demonstrates their recent propensity for missing the boat on naming-convention matters. I mean, seriously: they dropped the ball on calling Space Force “Starfleet” already, and they shoulda dubbed the B21 the “Foo Fighter” if you ask me. Further deets on the aircraft perusable here.

All my wisecrackery aside, I recollect watching the old (!!) B2 Spirit do a cpl-three fly-bys at an air show some years back, and hand to God that thing might as well have been a UFO its own self. Cool as it was for its day, though, this new hoopty is WAAAAY slicker, sleeker, and more spooky-looking than the B2 ever was.

(Via Stephen Green)

How DOES he find this stuff?

Posted on May 12, 2024 by Mike

The sexiest, smoking-hottest pic Irish ever ran on the FFFF. Or ever will run, IMHO.

YOWZA!!!

The nature of the beast: INSANE, with a side order of big brass balls

Posted on April 30, 2024April 30, 2024 by Mike

Bayou Peter has a GREAT story demonstrating what crazy-ass adrenaline junkies all pilots truly are.

65 years ago today on April 24, 1959, legend has it that an aviation stunt so bizarre it defies belief actually took place in the Mackinaw Straits between the upper and lower peninsulas of Michigan.

A U.S. Air Force RB-47E Stratojet reconnaissance aircraft piloted by Strategic Air Command pilot Capt. John Stanley Lappo was said to have flown underneath the Mackinaw Bridge where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron converge. As history records the event, no photos of the aircraft flying under the bridge exist, but the stunt, if it actually did happen, created enough buzz that a legend was born.

According to the thisdayinaviation.com website and the Wikipedia page for the Mackinaw Bridge, fitting a Boeing RB-47E Stratojet under the Mighty Mac was a tight squeeze with little margin for error. The highest place between the water surface in the Mackinaw Strait and the bottom of the Mackinaw Bridge is 155-feet at the center. The tail of an RB-47E stands 27-feet, 11 inches off the ground. If you do the math, that leaves about 127-feet of space between the water and the bottom of the bridge to play with. Considering the RB-47E stall speed in these conditions may have been as slow as 150-190 MPH, the plane would cover that distance in altitude in just over a second or two.

As the story goes, and is told in several media outlets, Capt. Lappo was, “Reported by his navigator” to some higher authority after the bridge fly-under. The legend claims that Lappo was, “charged with violating a regulation prohibiting flying an aircraft below 500-feet”. No great aviation tale is complete without details, and the story is that Capt. Lappo was permanently removed from flight status by the Commanding General of the Eight Air Force, Lieutenant General Walter Campbell.

Wow, I mean just…WOW. I’m with Peter on this:

I can see a fighter or fighter-bomber flying under that bridge, just as has been done to other famous bridges around the world (for example, see the Tower Bridge Incident in London, England in 1968). However, the much larger, less nimble and maneuverable B-47 bomber would be very difficult indeed to fly through such a confined space. If it was done, one can only tip one’s hat to the pilot in admiration.

A-yup, that’s about the size of it. Having known quite a few pilots in my day, as well as having a better-than-average amount of stick-time in various aircraft my own self, I can confirm that the above is just exactly the kind of thrill-seeker behavior one expects from pilots, especially military ones. What ordinary folks tremble at as death-seeking daredevilry, they see as an irresistible temptation—a challenge, not an impossibility.

The Gyrines famously call themselves “heartbreakers and life-takers,” but with the Brylcreem Boys one must tack on “lawbreakers” as well, in the highest, most aspirational sense of the word; not mere petty, trivial laws those guys break, but the laws of gravity, physics, and sensible behavior in the air, among many others.

Peter wonders, “did it actually happen?” I’d be willing to bet just about anything that it did; these are fucking pilots we’re talking about here, of COURSE it did!

Update! This post just wouldn’t be complete without a photo of the sleek, lovely B47 Stratojet, from back in the halcyon days when Boeing was still making serviceable, capable aircraft.

Six turbojet engines, six man crew—a high-altitude, subsonic (barely) strategic bomber mostly used as recon aircraft, in service from 1951 until 1969. Yet another exemplification of the phrase “they just don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

Powerful moment, powerful story

Posted on March 27, 2024March 27, 2024 by Mike

One to make even the coldest, most unempathetic heart go pit-a-pat.

WWII RAF veteran reunited with Battle of Britain aircraft
A WWII RAF veteran had the chance to fly alongside the aircraft he helped maintain during the heroic Battle of Britain in 1940.

Jeff Brereton, who celebrated this 102nd birthday earlier this year, took to the air in BE505, the world’s only two seat Hurricane, with R4118, the only remaining airworthy Mk 1 Hurricane to have taken part in the Battle of Britain, and the aircraft Jeff worked on, flying alongside.

Jeff, who lives in Evesham, Worcestershire, said: “I have great memories of the plane. Of all the aircraft I dealt with, that was the one that stuck in my mind. It was unbelievable to be able to see that aircraft again, that it had survived.”

Jeff’s amazing story first come to light when he gave an interview with Air Mail, the RAF Association’s member magazine. The team realised that the Hurricane Jeff worked on had not only been restored but was still flying.

The Association immediately got in touch with James Brown, the current owner of the R4118 Hurricane. James runs Hurricane Heritage, an organisation based at the historic White Waltham Airfield where visitors can experience flying in and alongside these iconic aircraft.

James arranged for Jeff to come to the airfield with his family and jump in the cockpit and take to the skies.

James said: “The story is just an unbelievable coincidence and it’s so incredibly lucky to have found Jeff. I just couldn’t believe that there was this amazing guy who was still around and actually remembers working on our Hurricane.”

Is there video, you ask? Why yes, there is, and it’s three and a half minutes of good, good stuff. The last minute or so especially, when the in-flight footage of those two beautiful old Hurries tooling along in close right echelon kicks in.

During the in-flight sequence of the vid, after his unique check-ride, Brereton says:

The main signal he gave me…he said if you’ve had enough put your thumbs down, and I’ll get you down to the ground as quickly and safely as we can. But I didn’t want to, I was putting them up, I want to go up. And it was that feeling, that sort of feeling that…you can’t have that feeling on earth. You see the same clouds and things, but they don’t look the same, they’re not the same, they don’t feel the same. Just wonderful, I can’t wait to go again. I can’t.

Well said, sir. You just put into words the sensation that makes the miracle of powered flight in a piston-engine aircraft so incredibly addictive. I can’t imagine there’s an aviator alive who didn’t smile and nod his head knowingly in complete agreement with everything you just said. God bless you, Jeff.

Further details of Jeff Brereton’s RAF days perusable here.

(Via Bayou Peter)

Triple über-ultra-cool

Posted on March 7, 2024March 7, 2024 by Mike

A few pics glommed from a Naval-aviator email list cousin Regbo signed me up for years ago.

No further verbiage from me necessary, I shouldn’t think.

A gripping Gripen story

Posted on September 20, 2023September 20, 2023 by Mike

Told in a context I still don’t give three whoops in Hell about.

Everything You Need to Know About the Gripen, Sweden’s Dark Horse Jet That Could Help Ukraine
Ukraine’s antiquated air force might soon receive fighter jets from an unlikely source: Sweden.

Sweden, NATO’s newest member, is looking into transferring some of its home-built Gripen fighters as part of an effort to expand the capabilities of Ukraine’s military. The lesser-known jet is one of the few built in Europe and outside NATO, and is designed to defend the country single-handedly from enemy attack.

Like I said: don’t care. UkraineUkraineUKRAAAIIIIINNNNE!!! bushwa aside, let’s talk about the Saab Gripen itself, shall we?

Named after the mythological griffin, the Gripen is the latest in a long line of Swedish designed and built fighters. As a neutral country, Sweden has traditionally avoided buying many major weapons systems from the United States, NATO, and the old Soviet bloc. This has necessitated building its own fighters, which also means opportunities to export those fighters abroad.

Gripen is a single-seat, single-engine fighter jet optimized expressly for Sweden. It has a slender profile, delta-shaped wings, and large canards just below the cockpit. The older Gripen C, which is the model most likely to go to Ukraine, uses the Volvo RM12 afterburning turbofan engine, reducing dependence on foreign suppliers.

Overall the Gripen is very similar to an American F-16C Fighting Falcon fighter. Both are 49 feet long, have the same 500-mile combat radius, same Mach 2 top speed, and same 50,000-foot service ceiling. In terms of performance, the Gripen is like an F-16 with a slightly lighter weapons load.

One major advantage for the Gripen is that it is cheap to fly. A Gripen C jet costs an average of $9,922 an hour to fly (adjusted for inflation), which is far cheaper than other western jets. The F-16C, by comparison, costs $26,927 an hour, while the F-35 costs $41,986 an hour.

While this might seem like an inconsequential number compared to a plane’s unit cost, it adds up, and over decades the cost per flight-hour can far exceed the cost of the plane itself. Over 8,000 hours of flight—the estimated life cycle of both planes—a Gripen will cost an additional $79.2 million, while the F-35 will cost a staggering $335 million. This is a major consideration for countries with smaller budgets like Ukraine.

Yep, the relatively-small (only 17 feet longer than the venerable P51 Mustang) Gripen is definitely a badass jet, with the added advantage of being a real looker as well:

SAAB GRIPEN

See what I mean? Makes the Turducken look like the sickly, overpriced boondoggle it is, far as I’m concerned.

Hey, did somebody misplace a Turducken?

Posted on September 19, 2023September 19, 2023 by Mike

It would seem so, yeah.

Search for missing F-35 Lightning II fighter jet continues after pilot ejects during ‘mishap’
U.S. military officials are searching for a missing F-35 jet after a “mishap” caused its pilot to eject on Sunday afternoon.

Joint Base Charleston said on Facebook that the aircraft was a Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II belonging to Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort. The pilot ejected safely and was transported to a local medical center.

The base is working with Marine Corps Air Station Beaufort to help locate the missing aircraft. Emergency response teams have been deployed to find the jet.

“Based on the jet’s last-known position and in coordination with the FAA, we are focusing our attention north of JB Charleston, around Lake Moultrie and Lake Marion,” Joint Base Charleston said in a statement on Facebook.

Anyone with information about the jet’s whereabouts is urged to contact JB Charleston Base Defense Operations Center at 843-963-3600.

That strange sound you hear is hilarity, ensuing. For his part, BCE has a question.

Let me get this straight…
An 80 million dollar aircraft
Known as the “Flying Turducken” or “The Turd”
80 fucking million dollars, and they don’t even have the fucking thing LoJacked!?!
My car is fucking LoJacked FFS.

Not only that, but as I recollect, commercial airliners; boats/ships of a certain size both civilian and military; tractor-trailer rigs; and even most cars nowadays are all equipped with some sort of locator-beacon/tracking device or another. Have been for years, in fact. Yet somehow, a fully-tricked-out, state of the art, next-generation air-superiority fighter—supposedly the very best Amerika v2.0 can design, build, and deploy, the very tippy-top of the top of the line—ISN’T?

Naah, not sketchy AT. ALL. Now look, everybody, over there: SQUIRREL!!!

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