# Slow-speed SR-71 flyby



## RabidAlien (Jan 22, 2011)

Got this in an email today (a video clip would have been priceless!): 




Brian Shul, Retired SR-71 Pilot, via Plane and Pilot Magazine



As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the

question I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can

be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend.

It's an interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed,

but there really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give

you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35

miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most

missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, we never let it

run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot

had his own individual high speed that he saw at some point on some

mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way,

and max power was in order. Let's just say that the plane truly loved

speed, and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn't previously

seen.



So it was with great surprise, when, at the end of one of my

presentations, someone asked: What was the slowest you ever flew the

Blackbird? This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was

reminded of a story I had never shared before, and relayed the

following:



I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England, with my

back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe

and the Iron Curtain, when we received a radio transmission from home

base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a

small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71

fly-past. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot,

and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see

the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem; we were happy to
do

it. After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea, we proceeded to

find the small airfield.



Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back

seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic

speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze.

Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had

a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we

were close, and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw

nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a

little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from the 325 knots we were
at.

With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said

we were practically over the field, yet there was nothing in my

windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in

hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field. Meanwhile,

below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the

tower, in order to get a prime view of the fly-past. It was a quiet,

still day, with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to

give me indications that the field should be below us, but, in the

overcast and haze, I couldn't see it. The longer we continued to peer

out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the

awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my

flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As

I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart

stopped, and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full

forward. At this point, we weren't really flying, but were falling in a

slight bank. Just at the moment, both afterburners lit with a

thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was), and the

aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower.

Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of

fire-breathing titanium in their face, as the plane leveled and

accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer

than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of

ultimate knife-edge pass.



Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall

without incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes.

After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was

reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said

the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 fly-past he had

ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise

maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that

some of the cadets' hats were blown off, and the sight of the plan form

of the plane in full afterburner, dropping right in front of them, was

unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of breathtaking

very well, that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just

excited to see our low approach.



As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight

suits, we just sat there: We hadn't spoken a word since the pass.

Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots.

What did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred

fifty-two." We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, "Don't

ever do that to me again!" And I never did.



A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officers'

club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71

fly-past that he had seen, one day. Of course, by now the story

included kids falling off the tower, and screaming as the heat of the
jet

singed their eyebrows. Noticing our Habu patches, as we stood there
with

lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such

a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, "It was

probably just a routine low approach; they're pretty impressive in that

plane". Impressive indeed.



Little did I realize, after relaying this experience to my audience that

day, that it would become one of the most popular and most requested

stories. It's ironic that people are interested in how slow the world's

fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it's always a

good idea to keep that cross-check up -- and keep your Mach up, too.


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## GrauGeist (Jan 22, 2011)

What a great story!

I bet that was a sight to behold, blasting out of nowhere like that...

Thanks for posting it!


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## Matt308 (Jan 22, 2011)

Good story.


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## Aaron Brooks Wolters (Jan 23, 2011)

Excellent story RA!!!!! Thank you for sharing.


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## bobbysocks (Jan 24, 2011)

love it! "I meant to do that...yeah, that's the ticket..."


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## Gnomey (Jan 24, 2011)

Great story! 8)


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