“Chief Designer Mikoyan said the designers at North American were most helpful. They say that with swept wings it is essential to build them a different way. We built them the old way, with the spars and frames first then covering them with skin. Build the wing from the inside out but that is not accurate enough anymore. North American have special jigs where they lay the skin first then apply the frames and spars to the wing skin. Build the wing from the outside in. Chief Designer Mikoyan is sending that back to Russia today and our factories will try the new method. In exchange we have given them North American information on our cannons for fighters. Our friend down there still has .50 machine guns. Not good enough.
Strange. Your XF-86 can fly but not shoot, our MiG-15 can shoot but not fly.”
“Crossing 40,000 now. Rate of climb slowing right down. Losing a lot of speed. He's leveled off, trying to build up speed again, 600 miles per hour. OK, lie's climbing but a lot slower.”
“Running out of power. He must be down to less than a thousand pounds of thrust by now.” Clancy altered course slightly, extending the distance between the climbing fighter and Texan Lady's serene progress across the Nevada sky. Aft, the twin 20mm guns in the tail moved slightly, John-Paul Martin making sure they hadn't frozen up in the intense cold outside.
“Still climbing, very slow now. Guess is he'll level off at around 48 to 49. You were right up there, he isn't going to make it.”
“And that's the best we have.”
Texan Lady continued her stately turn in the sky over the test range. About 3,000 feet below them, the XF-S6 was wallowing as the pilot fought to reach the silver giant overhead without stalling. A hard job, the gap between his stalling speed and his maximum speed was less than a couple of miles per hour. Helplessly, the pilot watched the B-36 turning away from him and separating.
“Phil, I'm taking over for a few minutes.” Dedmon dropped down and slid into the pilot's seat. “Crew, preparing for descent. Argus, altitude and position on that fighter?”
“2,500 feet below, off to around 8 o'clock. He's trying to turn with us but he can't make it. He'll stall if he pulls the bank needed.”
“Thanks. Let me know immediately if anything changes.” Dedmon could hear the little groans and squeaks in his aircraft's structure as she dropped down to 49,500 feet. He could see the XF-86 now, off to his left, essentially just hanging in the air, its thrust barely adequate to hold the aircraft in position. The pilot was trying to turn but he had neither the lift nor the control authority to manage anything more than a gentle drift. Then, Dedmon lost sight of the fighter as Texan Lady continued her own starboard turn.
Mentally, he held the position in his mind, visualizing the relative locations of the two aircraft. At the right second, he looked over his right shoulder and saw the XF-86 swimming back into view. As he watched, it seemed to creep forward, moving towards the front of the bomber's bubble cockpit. The fighter pilot had leveled off now and was trying to accelerate away from the bomber that was slowly but surely getting into his six o'clock.
“OK guys, here we go.” The XF-86 was now directly in front of them, still accelerating in an attempt to gain separation from the threatening giant behind. “Piston engines full power, jets likewise. Alex, jets lose power up here, our turbocharged radials don’t. Not as much anyway.” Dedmon was watching closely, he was trying to make a point, not cause an accident. “Power down five on turners, keep burners at maximum.”
The distance between the XF-86 and the B-36 had dropped to a couple of hundred yards, the fighter looking for all the world like a pilotfish ahead of a whale. The fighter pilot was trying to turn now, making the gentle banks to port and starboard that were all aerodynamics allowed, in an attempt to throw the bomber off his tail but it was futile. Texan Lady easily matched him turn for turn, chasing the XF-86 around the sky.
“Texan Lady this is Sabre-one. I concede. Drop back will you.” The fighter pilot's voice was aggrieved and resentful. Dedmon grinned nastily and edged Texan Lady a little closer to the persecuted fighter.
“Texan Lady, back off will you.” There was a distinct edge of panic in the pilot's voice now. Viewed objectively, Dedmon couldn't blame him; Texan Lady must be filling the sky behind him. And fighter pilots weren't used to being chased around the sky by bombers.
“Ride Him Cowboy.” The female voice echoed through the intercom system, Pokryshkin raised his eyebrows curiously.
“We have a crewmember who does a very good female impersonation. Don’t know who.” Dedmon's voice was tense also; his eyes never left the fighter in front of them.
“Texan Lady, this is range control. Break away from that fighter now.”
“Sorry Ground Control, repeat please, your message broke up.”
“There he goes Bob.” The ailerons on the XF-86 were visibly shaking. Suddenly, the pilot must have banked a little too far and his lift dropped below the critical point. The XF-86 stalled and dropped away in a savage spin.
“Right, full military power, all engines, turning and burning. We've got some altitude to get back.”
It took twenty minutes to regain the altitude lost in the persecution of the fighter pilot. Then, Texan Lady finished her scheduled flight plan and set course for her temporary duty base. A few minutes into their descent, Ground Control came back on the air. “Texan Lady, this is Range Control. For your information, the XF-86 recovered at 22,000 feet and landed safely. “The voice took on an ominous tone. “And General LeMay wants to see the cockpit crew in his office, Immediately on landing.”
General LeMay's Office. Nevada Test and Experimental Area
“Yabama Mat. You put the accent on the wrong syllable.” LeMay's eyes bulged in astonishment. Nobody had ever interrupted one of his tirades before, let alone to correct his pronunciation. Before he could resume his verbal incineration of Texan Lady's crew, Pokryshkin carried smoothly on. “And, if you will excuse me for saying so Sir, you wouldn't want to do that to my mother anyway. You've never met my mother, she's a sweet old lady but one day she was gathering wood in the forests and she was surprised by an amorous black bear, one that was feeling the needs of springtime as it were. The bear was about to have his way with her when he saw her face and he had to put a bag over her head first.”
Dedmon felt an insane desire to laugh. Nobody, but nobody, had ever done this in Curtis LeMay's office before. Pokryshkin was standing to attention in from of the general's desk with a perfectly serious expression on his face, respectful, and simply attempting to give his General the information he needed.
LeMay turned away slightly for a second and put a drop of something in each eye. That was something known in SAC but never mentioned. General LeMay had bilateral Bell's Palsy, his face was being slowly paralyzed. It was in its early stages yet, the attacks rare and short-lived but they were slowly increasing in frequency and severity. One day, they would cease to be attacks and the general's face would be permanently paralyzed.
“Just what were you playing at?” LeMay's voice rasped with barely-suppressed fury. “You were endangering a multi-million dollar aircraft and seventeen lives with that showboating.”
Before Dedmon could speak. Pokryshkin cut in again, still smoothly and elegantly. “General LeMay sir, you aren't a fighter pilot. I am, and I see things with a tighter pilot's eyes. To us, Sir, bombers are prey, things to be hunted and killed. That is all bombers are, prey to be hunted and killed. Sitting in Texan Lady this morning, I saw that this has not changed. The B-36 is prey and the fighters are hunting it. Now, the B-36 has advantages in the altitude that it flies at and its ability to turn at those altitudes. It has escaped the hunters by going where the hunters cannot go. Like a cat chased by dogs, it has found a tree and climbed up it. Now your B-36s are sitting on a branch of that tree looking down at the dogs below. But it is only a question of time before a bigger, stronger, faster, dog comes along and can jump up to where the cat sits.”