Skunk Works

Other Voices

Tony LeVier

In early July, Kelly called me in and told me to get ready to go up to the “Ranch,” as he called the base, and start flight tests. First time I flew there since the day I took Bissell and Kelly up, I almost fainted at the changes. Holy mackerel, they had put in a runway, had a control tower, two big hangars, a mess hall, a whole bunch of mobile homes. We had on hand only four engineers and twenty maintenance, supply, and administration people. Nowadays they’d probably use twenty people just to fuel an airplane.

The U-2 was very light, very fragile, very flimsy. Kelly wanted to know how I planned on landing it. I had never landed on glider wheels before—in tandem. Usually a pilot likes to make a landing approach nose high. But the landing problem was on Kelly’s mind, causing him concern. I got advice from other pilots, who said not to land it on the nose wheel, otherwise I faced the danger of porpoising, which could lead to a structural breakup. But Kelly contradicted that advice. He said, “No. I want you to land it on the nose wheel. Otherwise, if you come in dragging your tail, nose high, I’m afraid you might stall out and lose the airplane totally.”

Dry lake beds are very tricky to land on at times. Given desert lighting conditions, you can’t always tell how low you are. So I had them lift the U-2 off the ground, so that the wheels were barely touching, just as if I was first touching down on a landing, and the horizon out there was the horizon I would see as I came in. I sat in the cockpit and I took black tape and marked it on the cockpit glass even with the natural horizon. I did that on both sides. The black tape markers would tell me when I was lined up precisely with the horizon and that meant my wheels were just touching the ground.

On August 2, 1955, I made my first taxi test in the airplane. Towed it out on the lake three hundred feet. Kelly told me to taxi and throttle up to fifty knots and then hit the brakes. I pushed down on the pedals. God, they were sorry brakes. Kelly got on the horn and said, “Okay, now take it up to sixty knots and hit those brakes.” I did as I was told. Then he said, “Now take it up to seventy knots.” So that’s what I did, and I realized we were suddenly in the goddam air. The lake bed was so smooth I couldn’t feel when the wheels were no longer touching. I almost crapped. Holy Christ, I jammed the goddam power in. I got into stall buffet and had no idea where the goddam ground was. I just had to keep the goddam airplane under control. I kept it straight and level and I hit the ground hard. Wham! I heard thump, thump, thump. I blew both tires and the damned brakes burst into flame right below the fuel lines. The fire crew came roaring up with extinguishers followed by Kelly in a jeep and boiling mad. “Goddam it, LeVier, what in hell happened?” I said, “Kelly, the son of a bitch took off and I didn’t even know it.” Who’d of guessed an airplane would take off going only seventy knots? That’s how light it was.

Our first real flight test took place late in the afternoon, a few days later, on August 4. I took off around four in the afternoon, with big black thunderclouds building fast. I took her up to eight thousand feet, with Kelly following behind me in a T-33 piloted by my colleague Bob Mayte. I got on the horn: “Kelly, it flies like a baby buggy.” Rain was starting to splatter the windshield, so we decided to cut the first flight short because of the weather. Kelly was getting edgy as I circled around to make my approach for a landing. “Remember, I want you to land it on the nose wheel.” I said I would. I came down as gently as I knew how and just touched the nose wheel to the ground and the damned airplane began to porpoise. I immediately pulled up. “What’s the matter?” Kelly radioed. The porpoising effect could break up that airplane—that was the matter. I told him I just touched the damned thing down and it began to porpoise on me. He told me, “Take it around and come in even lower than last time.” I did that exactly and the damned thing started to porpoise again. I gunned it again. By now it’s really starting to get black and the rain and wind are kicking up. Kelly is in full panic now. I can hear it in his voice. He’s afraid the fragile airplane will come apart in the storm. He yells at me, “Bring it in on the belly.” I say to him, “Kelly, I’m not gonna do that.” I came around the third time and I held her nose high, just like I had wanted to, and put her down in a perfect two pointer, slick as a cat’s ass. Bounced a little, but nice enough. The minute I was down, the sky opened up and it poured, flooding the lake bed under two inches of water. That night we had a big party and we all got smashed. “Tony, you did a great job today,” Kelly said to me. Then he challenged me to an arm wrestle. The guy was strong as two oxen, but what the hell. He banged my arm down so hard he almost busted my wrist. I had it all bandaged up the next day. “What in hell happened to you?” he asked me. He was so soused he didn’t even remember arm-wrestling me.”