Recollections Of My U-2 Flight One Year Later

Forbes

a day ago

It's been exactly one year since I took a rare U-2 flight to the edge of space. I wrote about it at the time, of course (link below) - that was the point. It's an honor few civilians and non-pilots ever get.
Having had time to digest it now, I've been able to reflect on what happened and what it meant. First, the flight was eight years in the making. When I visited Beale AFB in 2017, the wheels were put in motion. I flew in a T-38 jet, chased the U-2 in a Dodge Charger as it landed and was stuffed into the claustrophobic pressure suit pilots wear for protection against the vacuum of space. Little did I know at the time how much longer it would take to get the actual flight.
There were promises and disappointments and postponments and changes of base personnel. The bureacracy got to the point where I never thought the flight would happen. I almost gave up out of frustration, but I also knew from life experience that big things usually take time. One example: It took me 12 years to interview Apollo 11's Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon. But through perseverance and hard work, he finally agreed not long before his death.
So when my flight finally was scheduled in stone, I was still skeptical. It was hot in August at Beale, I was told. Didn't I just want to postpone until fall, when the weather was cooler? I really don't care about heat, I told them. Let's just get it done. And so with my contacts at the Pentagon and the public affairs chief at Beale, Charlene Spade, we did.
Once I arrived at the base for training, I was excited sure, but still skeptical. The three days of pre-flight training proved more difficult than I had anticipated. Again, I became frustrated, even paranoid. Perhaps this was God's insidious last-minute way of canceling my flight.
Looking back now, I realize that wasn't the case. The base personnel were thorough for my own good. A U-2 flight is serious business. When you go above 70,000 feet and something goes wrong with cabin pressurization, you're toast in a few seconds.
And then there's the reliability of the plane itself, Cold War-era, and the 'coffin corner' the pilots must negotiate. At the edge of space, the air is so thin that an aircraft must stay within a six-mph window. Go too fast, and the wings fall off of the plane, too slow and the plane stalls. Both are real and deadly scenarios I needed to be prepared for.
When finally I was strapped into the cockpit with my claustrophobic Michelin Man space suit and breathing 100 percent pure oxygen, a thousand things went through my mind - fear, excitement, the ability to execute tasks I was given during flight like arming and disarming the ejection seat, taking photos and video, locking and unlocking the canopy, staying hydrated by drinking enough fluid through a straw in my helmet and the rest of it.
The flight went off without a glitch, but after two-and-a-half hours in the air, and six hours in the cramped suit, I was exhausted. Thank God for the after-flight debrief, the GoPro camera and what I can actually recall from memory.
I suddenly understood what my figure-skating friend, Sasha Cohen, once told me about her Olympic appearances. You have a few short moments to take it all in. But so much is happening so fast, you have little time to enjoy it.
Your name is called, then you get out on the ice knowing that the next four minutes determine the rest of your life. You have to focus on your performance, while everything rushes by. Then it's over, and you wait for the judge's scores.
Cohen, a little like me, has the aid of television cameras to help her remember it all after the fact. She ultimately took Silver for the U.S. at Torino in 2006, of which she is deservedly proud and has helped change her life.
My flight also rushed by. Nothing I had feared went wrong. It has changed my life, too, not to the degree of Cohen's, of course. But I've given Cold War speeches and recalled my unique experience on several podcasts and radio programs.
I just wish I could live the flight over, take it in at the time, knowing that all would be okay in the end. I wonder if Cohen feels the same way about her Olympic performance? But I'm also realistic enough to know that that will never happen. It's just my memories and the GoPro film and photos that I will have to cherish.
So when people ask if my flight was fun, I'm truthful. No, I say, but it sure was interesting. Probably it's like that for many who experience something unimaginable in their lives, and come out the other end okay.
All I can say now is thank you to the U.S. Air Force staff for keeping me safe and allowing me to recount an extraordinary flight for millions of Forbes readers, let them live out my experience vicariously. Frustration, paranoia and fear a year ago for me have turned into satisfaction and gratitude today