I was stationed at RAF Alconbury, England, in the early 1980’s flying the U-2 reconnaissance aircraft. Our usual mission was to patrol the borders of East and West Germany and Czechoslovakia to keep an eye on the Warsaw Pact countries. The nine-hour missions flying above 70,000’ could be tedious and boring except that we had the best seat in the world for viewing the incredibly beautiful countryside below.
One summer we were tasked to take a U-2 to Ramstein AB to participate in the airshow at Frankfurt, Germany. Since it was weekend duty it was voluntary (in the military it is “I need volunteers -- you, you, and you!), and when I signed up I was selected to fly the airplane over.
Any time we flew at altitudes above 45,000 feet we had to wear a pressure suit. That was complicated, as it took a whole team of physiological support personnel to care for the suit, dress the pilot, transport the equipment, etc. So it was decided that we’d fly at a low altitude. What I flight! The course took me from England, over the English channel, and across the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and into Germany. I normally flew this route at a much higher altitude, but this time I had a scenic tour of the European countryside, all the picturesque farms and villages, each town with its cathedral and market square. The best part of the flight was descending through the Alsatiatian wine country, across the Rhine, and on to a landing at the airport.
While all the maintenance airmen were off during the airshow, it was the duty of the pilots to stand in front of the airplane and answer questions from the crowd. The airplane was still highly classified, and the area was roped off into a security zone with armed guards, which only added to its mystique. The spectators were very knowledgeable about the U-2 and asked some penetrating questions, not all of which could be answered. When I told one guy that it was OK to take a picture of the airplane, he said, “Yeah, I know, it is painted with that special paint and the picture won’t come out,” and walked off. It was fun being a celebrity of sorts, especially when the people asking for our autographs were pretty young frauleins.
The thing I remember most about that day was buying a beer. I took a break from airplane-sitting duty to get a beer and get out of the hot sun. At the beer tent I saw a buxom blond serving wench in a dirndl, who immediately caught my eye. I ordered a liter of doppelbach, and when she handed it over I saw a big patch of blond hair growing from her armpit. I almost dropped the beer. After the shock I decided that it was kind of sexy, but it sure got my attention!
The airshow was Saturday and Sunday, with all kinds of flying demonstrations and wonderful static displays of every imaginable kind of airplane. It was heaven for any aviation enthusiast, and especially for a participating pilot. We were treated like royalty, much different than our lives back home as “pompous pressure-breathing prima donnas.”
For some reason we were scheduled to return home on Tuesday, rather than Monday. That was a real bonus for me, as my sister was at the base, married to an Air Force Captain stationed there. They both got Monday off, and treated me to a tour of that section of Germany. It was a short drive down into the Mosel Valley to the village of Bernkastel. Bern is German for bear, so everywhere in the village were statues and murals of bears. Very quaint and very beautiful.
Since this was special duty we were on a travel allowance of sorts, $10 a day, I believe, to cover our extra expenses. The high point of the airshow weekend for me was sitting in a biergarten overlooking the Mosel river with my sister and her husband, enjoying a glass of Reisling, thinking, “The Air Force is paying me extra to do this!”
One summer we were tasked to take a U-2 to Ramstein AB to participate in the airshow at Frankfurt, Germany. Since it was weekend duty it was voluntary (in the military it is “I need volunteers -- you, you, and you!), and when I signed up I was selected to fly the airplane over.
Any time we flew at altitudes above 45,000 feet we had to wear a pressure suit. That was complicated, as it took a whole team of physiological support personnel to care for the suit, dress the pilot, transport the equipment, etc. So it was decided that we’d fly at a low altitude. What I flight! The course took me from England, over the English channel, and across the Netherlands, Belgium, France, and into Germany. I normally flew this route at a much higher altitude, but this time I had a scenic tour of the European countryside, all the picturesque farms and villages, each town with its cathedral and market square. The best part of the flight was descending through the Alsatiatian wine country, across the Rhine, and on to a landing at the airport.
While all the maintenance airmen were off during the airshow, it was the duty of the pilots to stand in front of the airplane and answer questions from the crowd. The airplane was still highly classified, and the area was roped off into a security zone with armed guards, which only added to its mystique. The spectators were very knowledgeable about the U-2 and asked some penetrating questions, not all of which could be answered. When I told one guy that it was OK to take a picture of the airplane, he said, “Yeah, I know, it is painted with that special paint and the picture won’t come out,” and walked off. It was fun being a celebrity of sorts, especially when the people asking for our autographs were pretty young frauleins.
The thing I remember most about that day was buying a beer. I took a break from airplane-sitting duty to get a beer and get out of the hot sun. At the beer tent I saw a buxom blond serving wench in a dirndl, who immediately caught my eye. I ordered a liter of doppelbach, and when she handed it over I saw a big patch of blond hair growing from her armpit. I almost dropped the beer. After the shock I decided that it was kind of sexy, but it sure got my attention!
The airshow was Saturday and Sunday, with all kinds of flying demonstrations and wonderful static displays of every imaginable kind of airplane. It was heaven for any aviation enthusiast, and especially for a participating pilot. We were treated like royalty, much different than our lives back home as “pompous pressure-breathing prima donnas.”
For some reason we were scheduled to return home on Tuesday, rather than Monday. That was a real bonus for me, as my sister was at the base, married to an Air Force Captain stationed there. They both got Monday off, and treated me to a tour of that section of Germany. It was a short drive down into the Mosel Valley to the village of Bernkastel. Bern is German for bear, so everywhere in the village were statues and murals of bears. Very quaint and very beautiful.
Since this was special duty we were on a travel allowance of sorts, $10 a day, I believe, to cover our extra expenses. The high point of the airshow weekend for me was sitting in a biergarten overlooking the Mosel river with my sister and her husband, enjoying a glass of Reisling, thinking, “The Air Force is paying me extra to do this!”
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