Me, My Father, and the U-2, Dragon Lady

A U-2 "Dragon Lady" over Beale Air Force Base

Dad and I began writing a book together. It was more of a means of reconnecting with my father rather than a real attempt at a marketable product.

Dad had been “career Air Force” and I, and my sisters, had been born on, or near, an air force base. As a result I will always have a love/hate relationship with this branch of service.

I love it because it made my father a real life hero. I hate it because it was a lousy life for a kid. We moved every two years so you could never have real friends.

Dad flew 36 missions over Europe as a gunner in the ball-turret of a B-17 named “You’ve Had It.”

Dad's WWII B-17, "You've Had It"

He did two tours of Vietnam as a photo-interpreter during the worst years of the conflict. He would analyze photographs, some of which were taken by the infamous U-2 spy plane. He would use the photos to identify enemy installations, movements and targets.

Dad in Vietnam

Years later, in a hell-hole called Grand Forks Air Force Base, North Dakota, Dad worked in a secretive cave protected by a huge vault door in a secure area of the flight-line. This was the period of the Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) theory of cold war politics. Dad put together strike packages for the nuclear-armed B-52 bombers that were kept in the air 24/7 to be able to strike Russia, should they attack us first. Most of the reconnaissance photos Dad used during this period were also provided by the U-2 “Dragon Lady”.

B-52 at Grand Forks AFB, North Dakota

Sometime in 1999, after I had matured enough to stop blaming Dad for my childhood difficulties, I sat him down and told him how I really felt about him.

I told him he had always been my hero. I explained that no matter which air force base we were on, no kid’s father could claim to be braver than my Dad. I bragged about my father because his actions made me feel special. He was the greatest hero I’ve ever known, and he was my father.

I wanted a closer relationship with my father, but he lived 2000 miles away. I came up with the idea of a working on a book together because this would create a continuous dialogue between us, via email and phone calls. The story line would have to be built around Dad’s expertise and experiences. I could draw on his knowledge and it would add realism to the story.

The story we agreed on was about a young U-2 pilot who was shot down over Somalia and was subsequently captured by a local Islamic warlord. She would be rescued with the unconventional use of modern technology and psychological warfare.

The heroine of the story was the U-2 pilot. During my research on the subject I quickly learned that there was little information on the pilots of these strange aircraft. I wondered about the possibility of being able to interview a current U-2 pilot and started making phone calls. The calls led me to Beale Air Force Base. 

Coincidentally Beale AFB is a short 3 hour drive from where I live. The public information officer said the only way I could get approval to interview a U-2 pilot was through the Pentagon. She more or less said, “and good luck with THAT!”.

I spoke with Dad and he said, “What the hell, let’s try the Pentagon!”  This began another round of frustrating phone calls. I finally got in touch with a not-so-encouraging officer who gave me the details on how to make the application. There would be an evaluation of the benefit to the air force, background checks, yadda, yadda, yadda. We were informed that the process might take some time – and, that few such requests were approved.

Months went by and Dad and I continued to work on the book. A dear friend of mine also contributed with the typing and editing. Finally, one day I see in my email box a communication from the Pentagon. I was expecting disappointment.

“Dear Mr. Welch,” it began, “Your request to visit and interview a U-2 pilot at
Beale Air Force Base, CA has been assigned Case #99-396 and is approved.”

The Email from the Pentagon (click on the image to read)

Holy crap! Dad and I were going to Beale Air Force Base to interview a U-2 pilot – together! It would be the coolest father and son thing we had ever done. 

I called Dad and told him the good news. He immediately started talking  about making plans to fly down. We also talked about what a great military honor it was to have this opportunity. 

I was ecstatic not only because of the opportunity to visit Beale, but also because it meant my Dad would come and spend time with me.

I contacted Beale in the hopes that this interview would happen in the very near future. I was to be disappointed by delay after delay. Months and months dragged on with one problem or another with the arrangements at Beale. 

The delays finally drove me to writing a very strongly worded email in which I copied the Pentagon. A few days later the public relations officer called to say the interview had been scheduled for the following month,September 2001, and gave me the date and time. I called Dad and he booked a flight.

This was finally happening and I was thoroughly excited!
 
September 11, 2001 ended the dream of Dad and I visiting Beale AFB and interviewing the U-2 pilot. At the time, considering the magnitude of the 9/11 tragedy, my disappointment was trivial. Yet, it still hurt me deeply.
 
World events, and my disappointment, made it hard for me to remain enthusiastic about the book. It was a struggle for me to write. I also lost the support and guidance of my friend who had been helping with the editing.  The book languished. A few years later my Dad died and the book along with him. We never made it to Beale.
 
Two weeks ago I was to revisit this sad part of my past. My engineering partner asked me the strangest question. He says, “Gary, how would you like to go to Beale Air Force Base?” I looked at him because I was sure I mis-heard. What?
 
“We have a project there and I need you to go take a look at it. Will you do it?” I could feel the emotions swelling in my heart as I answered, “Of course I will!”.  I was thinking that I had some unfinished business there.
 
The day came to visit Beale AFB. I put on Dad’s leather flying jacket. The jacket had the nose art from his B-17 painted on the back. I knew there was little chance of actually seeing a U-2 today so I tried to put that out of my mind.

Dad's Flying Jacket 

I made the 3 hour drive and was passed through the security gate. I was early for my meeting, so I pulled 
the car into an adjacent parking lot for a few moments of reflection.

As I climbed out of my car I realized I was right next to the runway. The early morning yellow light reflecting off of the billowing clouds made for a spectacular sight. It was then I heard a jet engine spooling up. A few seconds later an all-black, sleek, T-38 Talon leapt off the runway and climbed into the blue sky above. The mighty roar of those twin jet engines brought back memories of air force life from a long time ago.

The All-black T-38 Talon from Beale AFB

I started crying as I thought about Dad. I put my hand on his embroidered name on his jacket and said out loud, “Well Dad, we finally made it to Beale.”
 
As if out of a Hollywood script, I immediately heard the sound of another jet engine winding up. 

With tears now streaming down my cheek, I’m thinking, “It couldn’t be…?”.

She rose off the tarmac like a ghostly shadow. It was the U-2 Dragon Lady roaring into the sky!

I had a hard time believing my eyes. Yet there is no mistaking the long wings, the rounded nose and the jet-black color of the U-2 Dragon Lady. She soared off the runway and seemed to momentarily hang in space above me. Then she climbed slowly into the sky where the eery-looking jet-black spy plane was swallowed by a stark-white cloud.   

It's sounds like a story I made up, or embellished, but this is exactly the way it happened. The sight of that beautiful, ugly, U-2 soaring over my head with tears pouring from my eyes will never be forgotten. A lifetime of emotions swirled through my mind. My father never home, the isolation of air force life for a child, my lonely mother, and my father, the greatest war hero ever.

It is the U-2 aircraft that will always connect me with my father, Master Sergeant Martin Derek Welch. Although he is gone now, he is still my hero and I will always be proud of him.

We finally made it to Beale Air Force Base, Dad.

My Father, war hero, 
and Mom

   

     

The Hidden Jewel of California's North Coast

Shelter Cove is the hidden jewel of California's north coast. It is one of the state's most scenic destinations, yet few people, even in northern California, have ever heard of it. If the residents of this idyllic oasis have their way, this is exactly the way it will stay.

California's north coast is legendary for it's beauty. The Marin Headlands, Point Reyes, Bodega Bay and Jenner represent some of the most spectacular vistas in the world. The combination of the color of the water, the roughness of the ceaseless sea, the sharp cliffs and the rolling saw grass combine to take the breath away. The fresh smell of the cool ocean breeze seems to elevate the senses. As many times as I have visited the majestic locales, I never lose my sense of awe.

It is with this understanding and appreciation of these majestic places that I am able to say that Shelter Cove exists on another level of beauty. It is as if mother nature combined everything that was breath-taking from the coast, distilled it into a single raindrop and that rain drop fell onto the shore called Shelter Cove.

The unique nature of this village is evident in the complete lack of all normal tourist trappings. There is not one fast food restaurant here, no bars, no nick-knack stores or artist galleries. And leave your cell phone at home because they don't work here either.

What Shelter Cove does have is a links-style golf course that wraps around a general aviation airport. It has spectacular views of California's majestic coastline and it is wrapped in peaceful serenity.

Shelter Cove has a number of wonderful restaurants for fine dining. It has a limited number of hotels that sit right on the shoreline with mysterious tide pools hiding beautiful marine creatures. It also has a small campground right next to the golf course and landing strip. To the south of the runway is the the cove itself - perfect for fishing and diving.

A visit to Shelter Cove is a tranquil escape from the world. The melting red sunsets will warm your soul and the gentle surf will soothe you to sleep. Exploring the tide pools for brightly colored magical creatures will draw you back to the innocence of childhood. It will touch your heart like no other place on earth. But please, don't tell your friends....

The Disappointment of My IFR Rating

When I began my quest for an IFR rating over three years ago I had a simple goal in mind. Living in the San Francisco area of California we are subject to frequent overcast layers in the summer, referred to as the marine layer. My wife and I had to cancel many flights because of this thin cloud layer hanging over the airport. The frustrating part of this phenomena is that the Central Valley, only a few miles away, will typically be CAVU at the same time.

I understood that my aircraft had the bare minimum for instrument flight - steam gauges, dual VORs and a VFR GPS. There is no backup alternator and no autopilot. I also understood that my financial situation and other interests limit just how much flying I can do every month. For these reasons I realized I would probably never be a "hard core" IFR pilot. I just wanted to have the rating to be able to climb through this pesky marine layer, not actually fly for an extended periods of time in clouds.

My disappointment came when, after three years of training and over $8000 spent, I learned that my original plan for my rating was fatally flawed.

My first solo IMC flight flight taught me some very important aspects of IFR flight.

First, there is no such thing as "just being good enough to get through a marine layer". Expecting that a minimal level of IFR proficiency will be adequate fails to recognize the first rule of weather - weather changes.

In addition, pilot reports may be wrong or weather briefings may have little to do with the actual weather conditions you may encounter. Unexpected conditions WILL occur.

The moment you launch on every IFR flight you must be mentally prepared to fly for an extended period of time in IMC. If you are not fully proficient, and mentally prepared for this occurrence, then you are only a few chain links away from an NTSB statistic.  

Inside a broiling, bouncing world where the view outside the windscreen offers nothing to the senses gives you an appreciation for system redundancy, capable navigation equipment.and the benefits of a three axis autopilot. Single pilot IFR in, IMC conditions and coupled with a complex airspace, requires skill, mental agility and recency of experience.  

My first solo marine layer penetration ended with me stuck in the middle of a very thick layer of building cumulus. ATC began giving me frequent heading an altitude changes that were not part of my flight plan. The turbulence, though light, allowed little time to take my eyes off of the gauges.  Within a very few minutes I learned that I was not mentally prepared for this environment. I was at the very limit of my ability to handle the conditions.

Then it struck me - what if I had a system failure of some type right now? What would happen if I lost the electrical system or one of the VORs? What if my attitude indicator went tango uniform? I asked myself, would I be able to manage such a failure?

The harsh realization came to me that I would not. Such a failure, if occurred at that exact time, would probably result in a loss of control of the aircraft in a short period of time.

When I finally managed to get the plane back on the ground and the hangar door closed, an honest truth came to the forefront of my thoughts.

The idea that you can just maintain a minimal level of IFR competency will absolutely get you, and your loved ones,  killed.

After further consideration I also realized that flying an aircraft with the bare minimum of IFR equipment is not good enough for me and my precious copilot wife.

I truly wished someone would have said to me at the beginning of my training that "being just good enough to fly through a marine layer" will never be good enough to fly IFR safely. I may not have listened, but I wish an instructor or other pilot had raised the idea. If I knew then what I know now, I would not have spent the time, money and effort to get my IFR ticket.

I don't' mean to say that I did not learn a lot about flying, and my aircraft, in the process. My flying skills, knowledge and decision making have progressed tremendously because of my IFR training. In some ways I feel I flew for twenty years without really understanding what I was doing. My IFR training truly opened my eyes and made me feel, at long last that, yes, I am a real pilot.       

My First, and Nearly Last, Solo IMC Flight

I began monitoring the weather two days before for my planned first solo IMC flight. The forecast for STS and CCR were indicating surface temperatures in the high 50’s, ceilings between 500 and 1200 feet and a slight chance of rain. I continued to follow the weather on Friday which indicated little change.

Saturday morning I awoke to overcast skies with some fog, but no apparent rain. I checked the METARS and read:

KSTS 301853Z 20004KT 10SM BKN005 OVC 009 13/12 A3020 RMK AO2 SLP219

KCCR 301853Z 19008KT 10SM OVC 012 13/10 A3020 RMK AO2 SLP217

The forecasts for my time of departure were:

TAF KSTS FM301900Z 28004 P6SM BKN010 OVC020

TAF KCCR FM301900Z 28008 P6SM BKN010 OVC015

I was planning on the VOR19R approach at Concord which has minimums of 640/1. My plan for the return to STS was the VOR32 approach with minimums of 700/24. I also planned for KSAC as an alternate and it was showing VFR with minimums well within the selected VOR 2 approach. 

There were no AIRMETS, SIGMETS, TFR’s or significant NOTAMS that would affect the flight. Icing levels were up at 12,000 feet, well above the 5000 feet maximum altitude planned.

There were three cloud top reports. Two showed tops between 2000 and 2600 with one report indicating tops of 5000. At the time I placed little weight on this last report of 5000. As the rest of the flight conditions were favorable for my flight, I did not perceive this one possible negative as significant.

The 5000 foot cloud top was significant because I had no intention of making the entire flight within the clouds. My filed enroute altitude was 5000 feet so a cloud top of 5000 might leave me in the clouds. I knew I was not ready for this. This was a “baby steps” flight where I would climb through a thin layer, fly on top until my destination, then descend through the layer. When I reached the MAP, I would go missed and repeat the process back to STS. Baby steps.  

My planned departure time was 12:30 local. I arrived about 45 minutes early to find significant haze and a slight drizzle over the airport. The AWOS was now reporting 500 SCT and 1200 OVC with a visibility of 2 miles. My only option for an approach back to STS required a 700 foot ceiling. I made a quick decision – no way was I taking off in this. I headed for the nearby Starbucks to wait for conditions to change.

I returned to the airport about 45 minutes later to find scattered clouds with lots of blue sky. This was a little disappointing. While I had wanted the weather to be a little better, I did not want it this good! I became a little frustrated that my flight would no longer involve actual IMC conditions.

I had completed the pre-flight prior to my Starbucks trip so 777 was ready to go. The plane fired up on the first try and, after setting up the GPS for the departure procedure, I ran my checklist, got the ATIS and called ground control.

I've received my taxi instructions with the comment that my clearance was “on request”. “On request” meant that the tower had contacted Oakland Center and were waiting for their response.

My VOR check was out of date so I pulled into the circle and “tuned and twisted”.  Both VOR’s were within intolerances and I made the appropriate notation in my kneeboard. 

Ground called and notified me that my clearance was available. I replied, “Ready to copy,” and the clearance came, “Cleared to Concord airport via Frees6, Skaggs Island transition, Victor 108, Croit, direct Concord, maintain 5000, squawked 4213, contact departure on 127.8.” The clearance was exactly as I had filed it, which was both unusual and welcoming.

After completing the pre-take off checklist and noting the time I was cleared for takeoff on runway 19. I pushed in the power and began my adventure.

The scattered clouds bases were around 900 feet. In just a few moments the white fog rolled over the aircraft and I was in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC).

The extended runway center line was very close to the Frees6 course so I made a slight adjustment to 202 degrees and reminded myself to keep the scan going in the climb. It felt good to be in the clouds at last!

At approximately 2000 feet I broke out on top and was surprised to see a solid cloud deck above me. This was a little disconcerting as I was expecting to be in the clear. A few seconds later my climb took me right back into the clouds.

I was at 4000 feet, and still in the clouds, as I made the climbing turn at Frees and rolled into the 099 degree heading for Skaggs Island VOR. I could see the bright glow of the clouds above me and kept expecting to break out at any minute. It didn't happen. As I leveled off at 5000 feet I was still in solid IMC.

My initial elation at being in the clouds now turned to anxious discomfort. Adding to my discomfort was a strong need to pee. This problem would continue to distract me throughout the flight.

About 2 minutes into the Skaggs Island VOR leg I received my first course change. “Cardinal 34777 turn right heading 180 for traffic,” called Oakland Center. I acknowledged the call and initiated the standard rate turn while adjusting my heading bug to 180 degrees.

Although I should have been prepared for it, this course change meant I would not be flying my filed route. The fact that I no longer knew exactly where I was going added another stressor to my anxiety.

I had done all my IFR training using dual VOR’s and an antiquated Apollo 360 GPS. The old GPS had died a few days before my flight. I told myself this would not be an issue since I now had a large screen, IFly GPS. The IFly had the current low altitude charts, as well as geo-referenced approach plates, and a bunch of other bells and whistles. I soon discovered that, while the GPS has the capability, the pilot had no practice in using the system on an IFR flight.

Then my IFly shut itself off. Crap! I didn’t need this distraction now. I had been flying VFR with the GPS for a while and it would occasionally shut itself off if the power cable was bumped. In VFR conditions this was just a minor hassle. Already just a little uncomfortable, this added to my building anxiety. I bumped the cable again and it came back on, but I would now have to reload my approach and adjust my zoom scale. 

The turbulence in the clouds was taking all of my concentration just to keep the plane level and on course. I struggled with the GPS during quick peaks away from the gauges. I could not get a zoom level on the screen that I was comfortable with.  I did not have the screen set to display the critical data I had relied on from the old GPS. I decided that this would be too much of a distraction and decided to just “fly the plane” and follow Center’s directions.

“Cardinal 34777, clear direct to Skaggs Island then as filed,” came the next directive from ATC.

I later learned from GPS records that I was over the southern tip of Tomales Bay. I verified that NAV 1 was set to Skaggs Island and the OBS needle was centered on 080. I rolled into the turn and reset the heading bug to 080 degrees.

I had now been in the clouds for 20 minutes and my anxiety was deepening. This was no longer fun. While the turbulence was light it was enough that it required constant adjustments of pitch and bank. The sensation of the “leans” was ever present and I struggled to ignore it. The “leans” is the very real sensation that the plane is leaning to the right or left, even though the gauges are telling you that the plane is straight and level. 

I started talking to myself. I reminded myself that I knew how to do this and I just needed to stay calm and “fly the plane”. I occasionally took deep breaths to help quell my nervousness.

Just after crossing Skaggs Island VOR I began to receive a series of course and heading changes from air traffic control. ATC also advised that I would be flying the LDA 19 right approach. I was not expecting this approach. I had a briefed the VOR 19 right approach. I struggled to find the hard copy of the LDA plate while complying with the ongoing course and altitude changes.

I found the plate and tried to brief it with quick glances. I knew I was getting close to the approach course and set the NAV 1 for the 108.5 localizer frequency.

At this point an experienced IFR pilot would be wondering two questions. Why didn’t I ask for a higher altitude to get above the clouds and why didn’t I ask for the approach I wanted? Good questions, for which I have no answer.

I broke out between layers momentarily as I identified the station and twisted the OBS to the approach course of 181 degrees. Almost as quickly, I was back in the clouds.

I now attempted to load the LDA approach into my GPS. While I was doing so Travis Approach directed, “Cardinal 34777 turn right to 150 degrees to intercept approach course, maintain 3100 until established, cleared LDA 19 right approach. Contact Concord tower.”

“Crap.” I was at 4000 feet and needed to make a descending turn while watching the CDI for movement. There was no time to set up the GPS, so I returned to flying the plane. I called the tower and told them I was inbound. They told me to report the outer marker. There was a 20 to 30 knot cross wind blowing and I was having trouble intercepting the course. Finally the CDI started to move just as I reached my clearance altitude of 3100 feet.

When the needle reached half scale deflection I begin my descent down to 2500 feet. It suddenly dawned on me that without a GPS indication I did not know how far I was from the airport. This realization ratcheted up the stress level further.

I was still getting bounced around in the clouds when all of a sudden I broke out into clear air between layers. I look to the left and saw what I thought was the general area of the airport. I immediately became concerned that I was off course. Then I looked at the CDI and it had swung all the way to the right. This was the opposite direction of where I thought the airport was!

“How could this be?” I asked myself. Something was wrong and I did not know what. I looked ahead and saw that I was about to enter a large, ugly, dark grey, billowing cloud. I was mentally overloaded. The anxiety level had increased and I was behind the plane. I was no longer in full control of my aircraft. I had lost situational awareness.

The thought came into my head that, “If you enter that cloud, you may slam into the mountains that are just west of the airport. You could kill yourself.” I had had enough. I made a decision that I was not going back into the clouds. I immediately made a left hand turn to remain in the clear.

I turned NAV 1 to the Concord VOR, centered the OBS, and called the tower.

“Concord tower 34777 is confused. I am going missed and I would like to open my flight plan back to Santa Rosa,” I said. The tower replied, “Cardinal 34777 contact Travis Approach on the 119.7.” They did not ask for further details as to why I had broken off the approach.

I flopped the COM 1 back to Travis and requested they open my flight plan to Santa Rosa. Although I had previously informed Travis that I intended to go “missed” on the approach, the controller seemed surprised. This was probably due to the fact he could see on his radar that I did not fly all the way to the missed approach point.

“Cardinal 34777, did the tower hand you back to me or did you just switch frequencies?” asked Travis Approach. I confirmed that the tower had handed me back and was told to stand by for my clearance.

A few seconds later they called back with my clearance which was, “as filed”.

I was still in the clear as Travis Approach advised that they would be vectoring me in a large circle for about 10 minutes, for traffic. The circling vectors they gave me kept me clear of the clouds, which were all around and above me. This gave me time to calm down and was the best thing that could have happened at the time. 

As I completed the circle, and with a new confidence, Travis gave me a vector and altitude of 5000 feet.

I turned to the new heading and in a few seconds I was right back in the clouds. I immediately called Travis and ask for a higher altitude. “Cardinal 34777 climb and maintain 6000,” came the response. A few seconds later I was on top again and pleased that I had finally thought to ask for an altitude that would keep me out of the clouds.

I immediately briefed the VOR 32 approach, set up the radios and got the Santa Rosa ATIS. I felt like I was back in control again. I knew I still had to descend through two cloud layers but I no longer felt the same anxiety. The VOR 32 approach was simple and familiar.

I completed the flight without further problems.

(Notes: I later learned the IFly GPS was defective. I had it replaced and have had no further problems with the inadvertent shutdown. 

On the approach to Concord when I thought I was off course due to the OBS needle deflection, I wasn't. In fact I was on course, and over the VOR, which explained the needle deflection - duhhh!)

Here my flight path from my GPS over-layed on Google Earth:

 

Lessons Learned

What I Did Right

1.       Did a thorough flight briefing by using my briefing form
2.       Delayed departure until weather improved
3.       Did ground instrument check and VOR check
4.       Used checklists throughout the flight
5.       Made a conscious effort to stay calm and fly the plane
6.       Did not enter the cloud at Concord when I was uncertain of my exact location
7.       Regained my calmity after Concord and was able to fly the return leg okay
8.       Recognized I was over stressed and made an intelligent decision to stay in the clear until I sorted things out.
9.       Asked for a higher altitude on my return route to get me out of the clouds

What I Did Wrong

1.       Did not get in updated weather briefing before departure. Recent pireps may have informed me of the second cloud layer
2.       Drank coffee before takeoff which made me have to pee
3.       Failed to recognize the importance of the inoperative old, but familiar, GPS
4.       Unprepared to use the new GPS for IFR flight
5.       Failed to ask for an altitude that would get me out of the clouds on the leg to Concord
6.       Lost both situational and geographical awareness

Things To Do To Avoid Similar Problems In The Future

1.       Set up instruments on the IFly for IFR flight
2.       Find a zoom scale that works for IFR flight on the IFly
3.       Find a way to preset expected waypoints on the GPS that will still be valid even with ATC course changes. For example key VOR’s, departure point and destination point.
4.       Ensure you place equal weight on all pre-flight data. Just because one piece of data doesn't seem to fit, doesn't mean it's not true.
5.       Always get an updated weather brief prior to departure and ask for pireps
6.       Do not drink coffee or other liquids prior to departure.
7.       Do not delay asking air traffic control for a different altitude if you are unhappy with the current one
8.       Don’t be afraid to ask for vectors if the workload is high and “own NAV” may overload you
9.       Don’t be afraid to change IFR route or clearance in the air if something does not feel right. Just tell them where you'd like to go and let them help you.
10  You can always cancel IFR if you are in the clear, sort yourself out, and then ask for a pop-up clearance to get to a nearby airport.
11  Make sure you brief all of the possible approaches at your destination and have IAP’s available