To Fly Faster Than The Speed Of Sound

The legendary test pilot, Chuck Yeager, passed away in December 2020 at 97. About twenty years earlier I had the good fortune to attend a conversation he had with his best friend and fellow flying ace, Bud Anderson, recalling their exploits over Europe in World War II. It was one of the most memorable events in the aviation history aspect of my career. Listening to them left me wondering how either had survived their antics let alone the combat. And although I had read hundreds of pages about them it took seeing them in person as old warriors to understand just how extraordinary they were.

On October 14, 1947, Yeager was in California and about to achieve a landmark in aviation when he flew his Bell X-1 into history on the shoulders of scores of aerospace pioneers who helped him pass through an imaginary doorway and reach the supersonic speedway in the sky.

From his autobiography, here is his description of that event:

. . . Bob Cardenas, the B-29 driver, asked if I was ready.

"Hell, yes," I said. "Let's get it over with.

"He dropped the X-1 at 20,000 feet, but his dive speed was once again too slow and the X-1 started to stall. I fought it with the control wheel for about five hundred feet, and finally got her nose down. The moment we picked up speed I fired all four rocket chambers in rapid sequence. We climbed at .88 Mach and began to buffet, so I flipped the stabilizer switch and changed the setting two degrees. We smoothed right out, and at 36,000 feet, I turned off two rocket chambers. At 40,000 feet, we were still climbing at a speed of .92 Mach. Leveling off at 42,000 feet, I had thirty percent of my fuel, so I turned on rocket chamber three and immediately reached .96 Mach. I noticed the faster I got, the smoother the ride. Suddenly the Mach needle began to fluctuate. It went up to .965 Mach - then tipped right off the scale. I thought I was seeing things! We were flying supersonic! And it was as smooth as a baby's bottom: Grandma could be sitting up there sipping lemonade. I kept the speed off the scale for about twenty seconds, and raised the nose to slow down. I was thunderstruck. After all the anxiety, breaking the sound barrier turned out to be a perfectly paved speedway.

I radioed Jack in the B-29,

"Hey, Ridley, that Machmeter is acting screwy. It just went off the scale on me."
"Fluctuated off?"
"Yeah, at point nine-six-five."

"Son, you is imagining things."

"Must be. I'm still wearing my ears and nothing else fell off, neither."

. . .

And so I was a hero this day. As usual, the fire trucks raced out to where the ship had rolled to a stop on the lakebed. As usual, I hitched a ride back to the hangar with the fire chief. That warm desert sun really felt wonderful. My ribs ached.

 

His ribs ached but that ache had nothing to do with his record flight. He cracked two of them in a horseback riding accident a day and a half earlier but wasn't about to let the issue keep him from an important mission. This was but one example of many obstacles Yeager overcame on his way to legendary status in American aviation history.

Interested readers can learn more about the man and the early years of the nation's military aviation and aerospace history in Yeager: An Autobiography, an outstanding read originally published in 1985. A valuable companion book providing context and additional history on the nation's early manned space program is Tom Wolfe's 1979 classic, The Right Stuff.




Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Yeager with Bell X-1, U.S. Air Force, www.af.mil
Cover photo, Yeager: An Autobiography, General Chuck Yeager and Leo Janus, Bantam, 1985.

Text:
quotation, Yeager: An Autobiography, General Chuck Yeager and Leo Janus, Bantam, 1985.
www.wikipedia.com
www.chuckyeager.com