See all 2 brand new listings. Buy It Now. Add to cart. Sold by grindinguy About this product Product Identifiers Publisher. Show More Show Less. Any Condition Any Condition. See all 5 - All listings for this product. Ratings and Reviews Write a review. Most relevant reviews See all 7 reviews. Sled Driver What makes this book different than others that cover the SR are the pictures and personal accounts of the author.
Flying It's historical and unique, a real inside look in a Jet that set an era and became an icon, the author made it so entertaining and accurate, he, himself is part of this American history Product Reviews Images Dialog Previous Image. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in the SR Oct 15, Kevin Goodrich rated it really liked it.
I was introduced to the Habu when I was stationed on Okinawa in the early 80s. I loved watching the big bird land with the bright scarlet parachute behind. The pilots were legendary. This was an enjoyable view inside the cockpit that made you wish you could have been there. Oct 19, Ian. Great book for military plane fans. Who doesn't remember the Blackbird from playing cards, movies or cartoons?
The whole book is written from the perspective of the jet pilot who flew the plane over many years and created a true bond with this beauty. Nice detailed descriptions of the joys and challenges the pilots had when flying the world's fastest aircraft that has ever been built to date. Another really interesting aspect was the relation with the co-pilot who controlled all the navigatio Great book for military plane fans.
Another really interesting aspect was the relation with the co-pilot who controlled all the navigation and sensor equipment, defensive systems etc. As the pilot put it: "During four years of sharing a myriad of emotions with the jet and each other, we formed a bond of mutual respect and friendship that will last the rest of our lives. Walt used to say that we lasted longer together than most marriages". Haven't seen a Blackbird with my own eyes, but I'm happy that I've seen Lockheed A on board of the aircraft carrier Intrepid.
A was a single-seat reconnaissance aircraft which led to the twin-seat YF prototype interceptor aircraft. The latter was the basis for SR or Blackbird. Dec 26, Joseph Simmons rated it it was amazing Shelves: war , history , biography. The Blackbird is a beautifully moving piece of technology. I like to think of myself as a technology person, but really that just means computers.
The SR first flew in , so it doesn't have much impressive in the way of computers. But in it flew faster than anyone has before in a jet. And since , no one has taken a jet faster than a Blackbird has. This machine, which was conceived in the s, is still without a rival. I The Blackbird is a beautifully moving piece of technology. There's something romantic about flying on top of the world, faster than anyone else.
This book brings out that romance. Brain Shul loves this plane, and he teaches you to love it too--if you need to learn. And I love his pictures. He did some in-flight photography that's amazing. This photography wasn't part of his job, it was for fun. In one photo, he's on top of the world in the Arctic Circle and you can literally see night and day at the same time.
Apr 14, Jay rated it it was amazing. Firsthand account of what it was like to pilot the world's most jaw-dropping astonishing ahead of its time aircraft. My copy is autographed, so it's a veritable treasure. Sep 23, Karla Goodhouse rated it it was amazing Shelves: non-fiction , read-for-fun , flying-space , military-books. This book gives an awesome description of what it is like to fly the world's fastest air-breathing jet - the SR Blackbird. It is well written and the pictures are amazing.
Jan 31, Remo rated it liked it Shelves: , biografia , kindle , english , militar , no-ficcion. Breve relato plagado de fotos chulas sobre la experiencia de pilotar un Mirlo Al SR lo llamaban el Blackbird pero sobre todo lo llamaban The Lady in Black. 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 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, 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 , I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground. I referred to it as the " Houston Center voice. 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.
You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. 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 on the ground.
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? 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.
And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L. You boys have a good one. 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. 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 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 in the Blackbird?
After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR flypast. 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 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. He has written four books on aviation and runs a photo studio called Gallery One in Marysville, California. Web page data and images copyrighted by Brian Shul, All rights reserved; May not be reproduced in any format including electronic retrieval systems. Copyrighted July 20, Permission to reproduce Brian Shul's web page has been granted for use on the " SR Blackbirds " web site by written permission.
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