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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013

Without proper scheduling, disturbances inside the inlet could result in the shock wave being expelled forward—a phenomenon known as an “inlet unstart”... An immediate unstart occurred on the right engine, forcing the aircraft to roll further right and start to pitch up. I jammed the control stick as far left and forward as it would go.
No response. I instantly knew we were in for a wild ride.
I attempted to tell Jim what was happening and to stay with the airplane until we reached a lower speed and altitude. I don’t think the chances of surviving an ejection at Mach 3.18 and 78,800 ft. were very good. However, g-forces built up so rapidly that my words came out garbled and unintelligible, as confirmed later by the cockpit voice recorder... Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. I learned later the time from event onset to catastrophic departure from controlled flight was only two to three seconds. Still trying to communicate with Jim, I blacked out, succumbing to extremely high g-forces.
Then the SR-71... literally disintegrated around us...
Before the breakup, we’d started a turn in the New Mexico-Colorado-Oklahoma-Texas border region. The SR-71 had a turning radius of about a hundred miles at that speed and altitude, so I wasn’t even sure what state we were going to land in...
Extracting myself from the parachute harness, I discovered the source of those flapping-strap noises heard on the way down. My seat belt and shoulder harness were still draped around me, attached and latched. The lap belt had been shredded on each side of my hips, where the straps had fed through knurled adjustment rollers. The shoulder harness had shredded in a similar manner across my back. The ejection seat had never left the airplane; I had been ripped out of it by the extreme forces, seat belt and shoulder harness still fastened. I also noted that one of the two lines that supplied oxygen to my pressure suit had come loose, and the other was barely hanging on...
Parts were scattered over an area approximately fifteen miles long and ten miles wide. Extremely high air loads and g-forces, both positive and negative, had literally ripped Jim and me from the airplane. Unbelievably good luck is the only explanation for my escaping relatively unscathed from that disintegrating aircraft.
Two weeks after the accident, I was back in an SR-71, flying the first sortie on a brand-new bird...