COOL DUDES I ADMIRE: BILL WEAVER

"After taking off, we reached our cruising altitude of 78,800ft, as we entered our 35 deg bank turn, the right engine malfunctioned and the control stick jammed. I attempted to stay with the plane but within a few seconds, I blacked out and the bird disappeared around us at Mach 3.18.

Gradually regaining consciousness, I realized that I wasn’t dreaming and therefore, I must be dead. Since I didn’t feel bad–just a detached sense of euphoria–I decided being dead wasn’t so bad after all.

As full awareness took hold, I realized I was not dead, but had somehow separated from the airplane. The sound of rushing air confirmed I was falling, but I couldn’t see anything. My pressure suit’s face plate had frozen over and I was staring at a layer of ice.

The SR-71’s parachute system was designed to automatically deploy a small-diameter stabilizing chute shortly after ejection and seat separation.

There was no way to know how long I had been blacked-out or how far I had fallen. I felt for the manual-activation D-ring on my chute harness, but with the suit inflated and my hands numbed by cold, I couldn’t locate it. Then I felt the reassuring sudden deceleration of main-chute deployment. I raised the frozen face plate and saw I was descending through a clear, winter sky with unlimited visibility.

My first-ever parachute landing was pretty smooth.

When I did land, which felt like the middle of nowhere, a rancher found me. He loaded me onto his helicopter and flew to a nearby hospital.

I have vivid memories of that helicopter flight, as well. I didn’t know much about rotorcraft, but I knew a lot about “red lines,” and he kept the airspeed above red line all the way. I couldn’t help but think how ironic it would be to have survived one disaster only to be done in by the helicopter that had come to my rescue.

Two weeks later. I was back on a new SR71” - Bill Weaver, Jan 25, 1966