Dragon Hearts
(continued) 
A U-2 leaning hard over on a crosswind landing. Titanium wing skids shield the wing from damage.
Another piece of the appeal is the fact that every flight is a real-life mission. "I came here from SAC (Strategic Air Command)," Bartholomew adds. "And there, we were always practicing. Here, every day is the mission."
Every day is also a flight day. At any given moment, somewhere in the world, a U-2 is airborne. And the cadre of U-2 pilots has always been so small that, as one pilot put it, "more people can legitimately wear a Super Bowl ring than can wear a U-2 solo patch." Since 1955, less than 850 pilots have soloed the U-2, and there are only about 60 active U-2 pilots, worldwide. Do the math. That's a lot of flying time per pilot.
"One of the reasons I wanted to fly the U-2 is that I could protect my flying time, and I didn't have to share stick time with anyone," laughs former U-2 pilot Mike Smith. It sounds like an easy, flippant reply. But the truth is ... in Smith's answer lies the core reason most of the U-2 pilots are there.
The U-2 isn't the fastest, sexiest or most glamorous airplane in the Air Force, and flying it may not be the quickest road to promotion or glory. Being a U-2 pilot also means being deployed 180 days a year -- not as a squadron or base, but with only a couple of airplanes and crews at forward locations. As Huggins puts it, "the guys who camp out here make a lot of sacrifices to do this."
Yet the squadron has drawn pilots from almost every other aircraft assignment in the Air Force, and every branch of the military -- even though those pilots have to give up their original commissions and become Air Force officers in order to fly the U-2. That alone speaks volumes, considering how fierce service loyalty and rivalry can be (see: Army-Navy football game). But many of those pilots also end up staying with the U-2 so long they end up retiring out of the squadron.
Why? Because U-2 pilots don't just love to fly. They really love to fly. And the U-2 offers both the most stick time, and the best stick-and-rudder flying, around.
"We attract aviators," says Lt. Col. Mike Glaccum, commander of the 1st Reconnaissance Squadron at Beale. "People who come to fly this airplane have a passion for aviation and airplanes. I can't put it more simply than that."
The proof of that lies just beyond the boundaries of Beale, in the small airports of Grass Valley, Marysville, Yuba City and Lincoln, California. Because that's where many of the U-2 pilots keep their other wings -- Stinson 108s, Piper Cubs, Cessna 140s and 170s, and a variety of other GA airplanes. Almost every weekend, a gaggle of current and former U-2 pilots can be found flying together somewhere in the area.
 |
|
 |
|
Lane and Maj. John "Cabi" Cabigas in his two favorite planes: an Air Force TU-2S, and his own Piper Cub.
|
For some of the pilots, their love of small taildraggers came before the U-2; for others, it followed as the U-2 made them masters of the art. But a surprising number of pilots at Beale own and fly small airplanes on the side. And they are every bit as enthusiastic about their little planes as they are about the jet-powered T-38 (which they fly for instrument proficiency) and the U-2.
Not 24 hours after taking me flying in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, Cabi tucked me into his Piper J-3 Cub and took me flying at his other favorite cruising altitude ... 200 feet, over the open rice paddies and wheat fields of the Sacramento Valley. The door was open, and the warm air and fresh smells of the earth wafted through the cockpit -- a stark sensory contrast to the hermetically sealed environment we'd flown in the day before. But Cabi had a grin on his face every bit as big as the one he wore after climbing out of the U-2 -- a grin shared by all the other U-2 pilots who joined us for a fly-out barbecue that morning.
In some ways, they're the same grins of shared understanding, passion and love of old tailwheel flying machines that I've encountered all over the world. But the ties between these particular tailwheel pilots go much deeper than that. The select cadre of U-2 pilots is known, simply, as "the Brotherhood." In part, the bond that label implies comes from the uniqueness of the mission, and the small number of pilots who've ever joined the club. It may also reflect the fact that every U-2 pilot is there because he or she passionately wants to be there.
"I knew the squadron dynamics would be better, but I didn't know how much better, being in a place where everyone wants to be there," Smith told me -- a sentiment echoed by numerous other pilots.
Equally important is the unusual level of interdependence among U-2 pilots and their crews. Visibility in the U-2 on take off and landing is so poor that pilots have to be guided off and back onto the planet by other U-2 pilots driving "chase" cars behind the airplane (see Flying Lessons, November 2008). And far more than in any other airplane, a U-2 pilot's life lies in the hands of the physiological and maintenance support personnel who create the fragile, artificial bubble a U-2 pilot needs to survive.
Discuss this article in our forums
| 
Copyright @ 2009 Bonnier Corp. All Rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.
