On August 13, 1981, Jay Reid and I made the first landing in Continental Europe. It was virtually unannounced—and not particularly welcomed.

(At the height of the Cold War, pilot BC Thomas, who became the highest time SR-71 Blackbird pilot ever, and his Reconnaissance Systems Officer Jay Reid were tasked with a very urgent mission to spy on Soviet Russia’s massive naval base at Murmansk. The sortie started off as planned but ended up as anything but usual, and they found themselves in a very precarious situation. This is Thomas’ story in his own words. —TR)

THE MISSION

Before establishing a continuous SR-71 presence in Europe in 1982 (at RAF Mildenhall, England), the 9th Strategic Reconnaissance Wing, the responsible headquarters for all SR-71 operational flights, was sometimes tasked to fly a particularly important higher-headquarters mission from Beale AFB in California to the Soviet Union and back.

The purpose was to photograph (with either film or radar), and collect electronic data in and around the Soviet Naval facility at Murmansk, located on the Kola Peninsula in the Barents Sea above the Arctic Circle, in the extreme northwest portion of the Soviet Union, north of Norway and east of Finland.

We required information about their air-defense electronic warfare capabilities and specifically, their antiaircraft surface-to-air (SAM) missile systems. Murmansk was a strategic nuclear submarine base and maintenance facility, and since knowing the disposition of all nuclear threats was vital for the security of the United States, Murmansk was one of our most significant reconnaissance objectives.

My Reconnaissance Systems Officer (RSO), Jay Reid, and I were assigned this mission scheduled for Wednesday, August 12, 1981 in SR-71 aircraft #964.

THE FLIGHT

We reported for the flight at 7:00 p.m., checked weather and last-minute changes to the mission requirements, updated the intelligence briefing, met with the mobile crew and SR-71 crew chief, ate a meal of steak and eggs, donned our space suits, conducted an aircraft preflight, and were ready for a 9:47 p.m. takeoff.

THE EMERGENCY

After transiting Murmansk and while hooked up with the tankers during the fourth refueling, I saw a flicker of the Master Warning light.

THE ARRIVAL

We wasted no time notifying the tanker crews of our decision to land. They set up a holding pattern in international airspace to assist in refueling, or to be our radio­-relay if necessary. Their standing orders were to await our call to release them, presumably after our safe landing.

While Jay was transmitting our mandatory abort reports via high-frequency, long-range radio, I contacted Norwegian Approach Control. Our orders were not to broadcast that we were flying an SR-71, but rather give the general type as “U.S. Air Force Tactical,” which really meant nothing to a controller concerned about arranging for emergency equipment, and notifying proper authorities of our emergency condition.

My call sign was “Belmont 86” and my transmissions to approach control were something like this:

“Bodø Approach, Belmont 86, six-zero miles west, declaring an in-flight emergency, request straight-in approach to land on runway zero seven.”

“Belmont 86, say aircraft type, nature of emergency, souls-on-board, and fuel remaining.”

“Bodø Approach, Belmont 86, US Air Force Tactical, engine problem, 2 souls, zero plus four-five fuel-on-board.

“Belmont 86, say again aircraft type.”

“Bodø Approach, Belmont 86, US Air Force Tactical.”

“Belmont 86, I do not understand your aircraft type.”

“This is Belmont 86, we will land in approximately 10 minutes and I will deploy 3 drag parachutes: 2 small and one 40-foot chute. I will jettison all three on the runway. I don’t have time now to talk.”

We were cleared to land with nothing more said. We touched down at Bodø on August 13 at 1:12 p.m. Norwegian time after a total flight of 6.4 hours.

THE RECEPTION

I asked for and was given taxi directions to the Norwegian military ramp where I could see some friendly looking F-104s, the front-line NATO fighter aircraft. After I shutdown the engines and we opened our canopies, the first person to greet us was a Norwegian military pilot who said: “Welcome, do you know Bill Groninger?”

Bill Groninger was a fellow SR-71 pilot who was a USAF instructor pilot before he was chosen for the SR-71 program. The Norwegian pilot was his student. We learned that many Norwegian fighter pilots received their initial training in the USA. We definitely were among friends!

We were quickly introduced to General Olav Aamoth, the Wing Commander at Bodø. He asked for any special requirements and I requested full-time guards be placed on the aircraft with only myself and Jay Reid authorized to admit personnel to the plane. He agreed and assured us that the aircraft would be guarded continuously. I then asked for a secure phone to call the Command Post at Beale AFB.

General Aamoth drove us to an underground labyrinth of tunnels carved into the side of a mountain, containing maintenance shops and aircraft. He directed me to a telephone within his Command Center.

I called the 9SRW Commander, told him the time of the abort and that operations were normal up to the emergency, thus relaying that we had the reconnaissance data on-board. This information was needed to arrange for the proper retrieval of the mission materials.

We briefly discussed the nature of the emergency, and I assured him that the aircraft was safe. He said that we were to stay there until the aircraft was repaired, which would probably take three days. The 9SRW had already started a recall for the support personnel necessary for the recovery of the SR-71.

General Aamoth seemed unusually concerned, as he insisted that a Norwegian officer physically be present with us until we left. He introduced us to an F-104 pilot, 1 Lt Roar Strand, who would help us with anything we might require. He was a very pleasant guy, and I kind of felt sorry for him because I was sure he had better things to do than to “mind” us for 3-4 days.

Roar Strand was very accommodating. After all the immediate activities associated with bedding down the aircraft were accomplished, he took Jay and me to his apartment, where we met his beautiful girlfriend, then to a restaurant in downtown Bodø where we spent a pleasant evening.

Roar accompanied us to the transient quarters to sleep in the same room with Jay and me. Early the next morning, he went with us to a military dining hall for breakfast. It was there that I got my first real surprise of the trip: the only food presented was about four types of fish soup, all of which, to this unaccustomed American, smelled terrible, especially so early in the morning. I asked if any cold cereal was available and thankfully, there was. Corn flakes. Espresso coffee completed the fare.

RECOVERY OPERATIONS

The rest of the day was devoted to making preparations for the maintenance recovery team from Beale AFB. General Aamoth, to my surprise, stated specifically that he did not want any talk or outward expression of anything clandestine (not that we would anyway.)

More than once, he made the explicit statement that when we landed, he considered us to be a NATO-allied aircraft in distress and that military courtesy and professional consideration meant that we were to be afforded the support necessary to see us on our way and that he did not want any mention of reconnaissance activity or publicity.

It was way too late for the admonition concerning publicity, however.

Virtually every newspaper in Norway had news of a “Spy Plane” landing at Bodø splashed across its front page. Newspapers in the USA also had the story. The reports generally said that it was the highest-flying and fastest airplane in the world, and opined on what type of “spying” we were doing.

Jay and I did not like the publicity, but were relieved that no newspapers published our pictures or names. None of us flying reconnaissance missions wanted to be publicly identified while we were engaged in these activities.

Our missions were highly classified, and no good could ever come from talking to reporters about anything associated with our reconnaissance flights.

DEPARTURE

The maintenance crew performed outstandingly and we were ready to depart on Sunday, August 16. Preflight preparations for Jay and me were smooth, except our first engine-start attempt failed. The start cart could not, observing normal rpm and torque limits, achieve the required aircraft engine speed for a safe start.

AFTERWARD

After I retired from the US Air Force and our SR-71 reconnaissance activities were no longer classified, I contacted General Aamoth. He had also retired from the military after being Chief of Staff for the Norwegian Air Force from 1985 through 1991.

I asked him about his reluctance to have our military personnel wear civilian clothes and why he admonished us not to do or say anything which would identify our mission as being reconnaissance. He told me a very interesting story.

On May 1, 1960, General Aamoth was a fighter pilot (then a Lieutenant) in the Norwegian Air Force stationed at Bodø. That was the day that Francis Gary Powers was shot down flying a CIA U-2 aircraft over the Soviet Union. Although Powers had taken off from Pakistan, his intended landing base was Bodø, the same Norwegian base at which I landed.

Furthermore, the then-commander of Bodø knew about the U-2 and that it was to land at his home base; however, neither the Norwegian Prime Minister nor the Chief of the Norwegian Air Force knew anything about it. To make matters much worse, the Soviet Premier, Nikita Khrushchev, threatened to “nuke Bodø” for “cooperating” with the United States in the “U-2 Affair.” After an investigation, the Military Commander was summarily fired.

General Aamoth saw a very stark parallel to that story when we landed. He told me that he was sitting in his office when we were on final approach. The airfield tower controller telephoned and told him to look out his window to see what aircraft was landing at his field asking to be parked on his military airport apron.

I now understand General Aamoth’s concern!

As of 2016, Roar Strand is still an active pilot, flying worldwide for Scandinavian Airlines (SAS). He has homes in Norway and France and is married to Maryann, the girlfriend whom I met at his apartment in 1981. They are the proud parents of 3 and are also grandparents.

As for SR-71 aircraft #964, a veritable workhorse for the SR-71 program, it is displayed at the Strategic Air and Space Museum (formerly the SAC Museum) near Omaha, Nebraska.

John Morgan (RSO) and I had an SR-71 emergency on April 5, 1984 in aircraft #974, and landed again at Bodø. General Aamoth was there to meet me a second time. He was then a Major General and Commander of Tactical Air Forces North. I told him that I really didn’t mean to do it a second time! There was minimum publicity and we departed within 2 days. By then, we were operating out of RAF Mildenhall and the logistical support was much closer and quicker than in 1981.

The SR-71 (#974) in which I landed at Bodø the second time was the first SR-71 to fly combat missions in the Vietnam War. It was also the last Blackbird to crash. While flying at Mach 3 over the Philippine Sea on April 21, 1989, her left engine seized causing shrapnel to explode into critical hydraulic lines, and subsequently rendering the flight controls completely inoperative. The crew, Dan House (pilot) and Blair Bozek (RSO), ejected safely and were recovered by Filipino fishermen.

By May 10, 1989, US Navy and Air Force personnel had recovered the wreckage from 200 feet below the ocean surface, and returned her to Okinawa for disposal.

References:

1. Skip Hosler’s web page with pictures and narrative concerning the Bodøoperation:

2. Norwegian newspapers telling of the SR-71 landing at Bodø(with translations).

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