Victor L. Konstantinov, Valery D. Romanenko/ Kyiv, Andrey V. Khaustov/ “AiV”*
Tu-22R of the 199th Separate Guards Long-Range Reconnaissance Aviation Regiment
For their great assistance in working on the publication, the authors and editors express sincere gratitude to the Heroes of the Soviet Union, Honored Test Pilots of the USSR Vasily Petrovich Borisov and Mark Lazarevich Gallai, Honored Test Pilot of the USSR Alexei Yakovlevich Nikonov. The publication was prepared with the assistance of the editors of the magazine “Voisko Ukrati”.
* Viktor Leonidovich Konstantinov, retired major general, one of the most experienced long-range aviation pilots, who has mastered the Tu-4, Tu-16, Tu-95, Tu-22 and Tu-22M/M-2/M-3 bombers. He commanded the Guards Long-Range Reconnaissance Aviation Regiment in Nezhin, was deputy division commander, and headed the 43rd Center for Combat Use and Retraining of Flight Personnel (CPC and PLS) of Long-Range Aviation in Dyagilev.
Valery Dmitrievich Romanenko is a correspondent for the central press organ of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, the magazine “Vysko Ukrami”, a well-known researcher in the history of aviation, and the author of many publications.
Andrey Vyacheslavovich Khaustov is an aviation design engineer, author of a number of publications on the history of aviation.
By the mid-50s. The tactical and technical characteristics of long-range jet bombers - both Soviet and NATO - made it possible to keep a huge space from the Pyrenees to the Urals “under the shadow of a nuclear mushroom.” The use of these aircraft implied a breakthrough to the target at high altitude and speed. However, the emergence of new fighters required the creation of even faster machines. The development of supersonic bombers began in the USA, USSR and France. In the late 50s - early 60s. were put into mass production: in the USA - B-58 Hustler, in the USSR - Tu-22 and in France - Mirage-IV. But by that time, the development of air defense systems had taken another step forward, and for bombers, high speed and flight altitude had finally ceased to be a saving shield. The creation of tactical and intercontinental missiles with nuclear warheads seemed to deprive bombers of any further prospects. Already by the mid-60s. The Americans wrote off all B-58s, and France retained its strategic Mirages in service, rather for reasons of national prestige, relying on missile submarines. In the Soviet Union they took a different path: Tu-22s were produced for almost a decade and are still in service, 38 years after the first flight.
Evolution as a way to achieve a goal
The first projects of Soviet supersonic long-range bombers appeared in the early 50s. Their developers were the competing Design Bureaus of A.N. Tupolev and V.M. Myasishchev. The latter, less “burdened” by experience and traditions, relied on maximum technical originality. The main approach of the Tupolev design school was pragmatism. Perhaps the aircraft of this company did not look as avant-garde as Myasishchev’s, but Tupolev’s trump card was the reality of the declared characteristics and faster development of prototypes. Andrei Nikolayevich’s famous phrase: “If an airplane is designed at 70% of zero, it will certainly be a failure.” It is not surprising that, when starting to create a supersonic bomber, the designers made maximum use of the developments on the Tu-16, which had already been put into production.
“Izdeliye 105” is the first prototype of the Tu-22. 1958
The design of its supersonic version, designated “product 103,” resembled the original vehicle, equipped with four VD-5 or VD-7 turbojet engines (developed by the V.A. Dobrynin Design Bureau). The engines were placed one above the other along the sides of the fuselage. The “cheap” solution, alas, gave a “cheap” result - calculations showed the futility of the project. It was necessary to take more radical measures.
The new project, the head of which was appointed S.M. Yeger, received the designation “product 105”. On August 10, 1954, a resolution was issued by the Council of Ministers of the USSR and the Central Committee of the CPSU, legalizing the development of a long-range supersonic bomber, and the first general view of the vehicle appeared in November of the same year. Unlike the Product 103, the aircraft was equipped with a 52° swept wing and two VD-5F engines located in the fuselage, similar to the front-line supersonic bomber Product 98*. At the end of the same year, TsAGI carried out purging of aerodynamic models and issued recommendations for changing the configuration of the aircraft. The designers moved the engines, placing them in nacelles at the root of the vertical tail. Optimization of the car's appearance continued for almost a year. At the end of 1955, the final layout appeared, detailed design and production of the first units of the “one hundred and fifth” prototype began.
Its fuselage had a circular cross-section with a bomb bay behind the wing center section. At the root, it had a thick profile, allowing the main landing gear supports to be retracted into the wing perpendicular to the direction of flight. The adopted layout of the power plant made it possible to make the shape of the air intakes the most optimal, minimizing inlet losses. In the absence of any technical means to ensure stable operation at supersonic speed, their maximum operating number M was 1.5. The high location of the engines reduced the likelihood of foreign objects getting into them. This arrangement also had many disadvantages. First of all, the weight of the airframe increased due to the need to strengthen the rear fuselage and lengthen the nose section for centering reasons. A significant operational alignment required the adoption of a number of measures to ensure the longitudinal stability of the bomber in all flight modes. One of the key decisions was the optimal sectioning of fuel tanks and ensuring the necessary sequence of their production. Lengthening the bow had a negative impact on the directional stability characteristics. In addition, the significant height of the engines above the ground made them difficult to maintain.
The most important influence on the appearance of the aircraft was that it was not designed for supersonic cruising flight. “Supersonic sound” was envisaged only during an air defense breakthrough. Following the route in non-afterburning modes and speeds below M=1 made it possible to significantly reduce the required fuel mass (at subsonic levels the aerodynamic quality of the aircraft was 11 versus 5 at M=1.5, and the specific fuel consumption in non-afterburning mode was half as high). At the detailed design stage, the VD-5F engines were replaced with VD-7M, which had an afterburning thrust of 16 tf. At the same time, the installation of other engines was studied, but was not implemented, including: M16-17F, AM-17F, P-4, VD-9F and NK-6.
“Product 105”: 30 years have passed since the first takeoff. Bada airfield, 1988
The experimental vehicle was equipped with mechanical control wiring, boosters and a spring loading mechanism for the steering wheel. In an emergency, at speeds of up to 600 km/h, the aircraft could be controlled manually. The crew consisted of three people: commander, navigator and air operator. The crew's workplaces were equipped with K-22 ejection seats. Due to the high height of the keel, the ejection direction was chosen downward. “One Hundred and Fifth” had the latest radio-electronic equipment at that time. The navigator searched for the target using the Rubin-1A panoramic radar located in the forward part of the fuselage. To protect against enemy fighters, the bomber had a DM-20 tail mount with two 23-mm R-23 cannons, aimed at the target using the PRS-2 Argon-2 radar sight and the TP-1 television sight.
Through thorns...
Due to the large amount of design and development work, the construction of the prototype at the OKB pilot plant continued until December 1957. At the beginning of 1958, it was towed to the territory of the company’s testing complex in Zhukovsky. By summer the plane was ready, and its ground tests began. On the first flight of the “one hundred and fifth” on June 21, 1958, the crew consisted of: Yu.T. Alasheyev - commander, I.E. Gavrilenko - flight operator and K.A. Shcherbakov - flight radio operator. In total, the aircraft was able to perform several flights. During the latter, an emergency landing was made with the front landing gear not extended. The vehicle was damaged and was no longer sent for testing**, because By that time, its improved version had appeared - “product 105A”. Preliminary work on the vehicle began in 1957, construction in January 1958, and in April the corresponding resolution of the Council of Ministers was issued. The 105A aircraft was noticeably different from its predecessor. Its fuselage was designed taking into account the “area rule”. The thickness of the profile in the root part of the wing was reduced, and therefore it was necessary to return to the method tested on the Tu-16 for retracting the main landing gear into special nacelles. Root projections were made on the leading edge of the wing. One cannon on the tail defensive installation was removed, and the PRS-2 sight was replaced with a PRS-3. In total, two copies of “105A” were built, one of which was for statistical testing.
Model "product 105"
Since 1959, D.S. Markov was appointed the leading designer of the aircraft. In the summer of 1959, the flight prototype was ready, and on September 7, 1959, the same crew took the car into the air. By the end of the year, the experienced bomber completed only 7 flights. Simultaneously with the construction of the 105A, preparations for serial production of the bomber, called the Tu-22, began at the aircraft plant in Kazan. On December 21, the 105A made its seventh flight. The program provided for achieving a speed corresponding to M = 1.1 - 1.15 at an altitude of 10,000 m. Soon after reaching supersonic speed, the crew felt a strong blow, and the bomber went into an uncontrolled dive. Alasheyev gave the order to leave the car, but he himself, trying to save the plane, remained on board. The flight operator's seat did not extend beyond the edge of the hatch, and Gavrilenko also died.
* The Tu-128 heavy interceptor was subsequently created on its basis
** Probably, after repairs, the aircraft was transferred as a visual aid to one of the training units of the USSR Air Force. This version is confirmed by the remains of the “one hundred and fifth” at the school of junior aviation specialists at the Far Eastern airfield of Bada, located several thousand kilometers from Moscow.
Aft gun mount and radar radome for radio sight
Flight operator Shcherbakov ejected at a speed of 1380 km/h and remained the only surviving crew member. The commission that investigated the accident concluded that it was caused by elevator flutter and recommended the use of an all-moving horizontal tail (CPGO). The main option from the aircraft was to be the Tu-22B bomber (“product Yu”). The elimination of identified defects delayed its introduction into production, and only in the summer of 1960. The first three production Tu-22Bs entered testing. They had a central control unit, which could be controlled by an electric mechanism in case of booster failure; anti-flutter weights were installed on the wingtips, and a number of systems and complexes of the vehicle were modified. The normal bomb load of the aircraft was 3000 kg, the overload load was up to 9000 kg.
On September 2, the Tu-22B (serial number 201), piloted by a crew consisting of V.R. Kovalev, V.S. Pasportnikov and K.A. Shcherbakov, made a test flight - the first after the “105A” disaster. Soon after takeoff, the aircraft entered a mode of progressive longitudinal vibrations, and the crew managed to land it with great difficulty. On subsequent flights, this phenomenon repeated, and the tests were interrupted. The design bureau carried out improvements to the control system. On November 17, the Tu-22B took off again, and Kovalev noted a significant improvement in stability and controllability. However, the pilot soon noticed a drop in oil pressure in the engine and turned it off. “The heavy vehicle began to quickly lose altitude. Convinced that he could not reach the airfield, Kovalev sat down on his belly in a field near the Pekhorka River. When it hit the frozen ground (it was bitterly cold), the crew cabin came off, crawled several meters and froze. All the hatches and windows jammed due to the deformation of the frame, and the crew was captured.
Tail section of Tu-22U
Fairing of the SPS-151 station
Main landing gear
The tail section with the engines caught fire, the pilots saw reflections of the flames on the snow. Kovalev said on the phone to navigator B.S. Passportnikov: “You do what you want, but I won’t burn alive and will eject.” On earth this is suicide. Fortunately, LII vehicles rushed in and the prisoners were freed. The emergency commission got to the bottom of the root cause of the accident; it turned out to be an oil pipe from the engine to the pressure gauge, which burst exactly at the border between the engine nacelle and the plane.”*
The cars of the first series, despite the measures taken, still had a tendency to swing in pitch. As V.P. Borisov, the leading test pilot at the Tu-22 design bureau from the end of 1960 to 1968, testifies, the reason for this phenomenon was as follows. As the flight speed increased, under the influence of the high-speed pressure, the wing twisted, and the angle of attack of its end sections decreased. The resultant lift force moved forward, reducing the margin of static stability, and the aircraft became “neutral” in pitch. The problem was solved by installing a damper in the longitudinal control system - an automatic device for damping vibrations through appropriate deflections of the controls. An automatic balancing device was also installed, making it easier to pilot the bomber in transonic flight modes.
However, the management system still required improvement. In one of the test flights, Borisov was tasked with determining whether the stabilizer booster power was sufficient for normal control at high speeds. He was instructed at an altitude of 4500 m at an indicated speed of 1050 km/h (which corresponded to M = 0.89) to sharply deflect the CPGO by 3° and return it to its original position as quickly as possible. During this operation, the aircraft managed to reach 80% of the destructive overload. To prevent this, it was decided to load the steering wheel with a force of 25-27 kgf by installing an automatic additional force, which comes into operation when the steering wheel is moved at a certain point.
* Leonid L. Kerber. With Tupolev in prison and in freedom. Memoirs of an engineer. - Shift No. 9, 1991
Fairing of the SPS-153 station
Retractable ventral heel
The developers believed that it was not advisable to connect this machine during turns and turns, since the costs of the helm in such modes are much higher than in straight flight. Borisov expressed doubt about this and insisted on conducting a control flight. He recalls: “At a speed of 800 km/h, I energetically brought the plane into a turn with a bank of 60°. At the same time, the vertical overload increased sharply to +2.8d. To prevent its further growth, the helm was moved away from itself. The overload instantly became negative, reaching -1.7d. The helm was again taken over, and the overload increased to +4d. (Already on the ground, according to the recorders, it turned out that the pilot’s actions to prevent the increase in overload occurred 0.3 seconds after the sign of the angular velocity in pitch changed.) It became clear that a progressive swing had begun, and on the next roll the plane would collapse.” Borisov found the only correct way out by setting the steering wheel to the neutral position. The rocking quickly stopped. In the future, the additional spring loader was not turned off when making turns and turns. But this was not enough, and a hydraulic limiter was introduced into the longitudinal control system, which did not allow the steering wheel to be sharply deflected.
At the same time, the roll control channel was worked out. At high flight speeds, the twisting of the end parts of the Tu-22 wing led to the reversal of the ailerons. This forced the introduction of a maximum flight speed limit of M = 1.4. To remove the limitation, the Design Bureau developed aileron flaps. Now the outer sections of the flaps played their main function at subsonic levels, and at supersonic levels they served as ailerons, while the standard ailerons were blocked. The Tu-22 with aileron flaps began to be mass-produced in 1965. However, aircraft that did not have this innovation were used in combat units for quite a long time.
Front landing gear
At the end of the 50s. It became clear that a combat aircraft armed only with free-falling bombs would not be sufficiently effective. Therefore, the Tu-22B produced in small series was never accepted into service. They were used mainly for testing and training of technical personnel. One Tu-22B is now on display at the museum in Monino.
The supersonic cruise missile X-22* allowed the “twenty-second” to significantly increase its combat capabilities. The development of a carrier for it, designated Tu-22K, began in 1958. In May 1960, its mock-up appeared, and at the beginning of 1961 the first flight copy was built (serial number 5060045). On July 6, this aircraft with a mock-up of the X-22 under the fuselage took part in the parade over Tushino.
An experienced Tu-22K was tested at the State Scientific Research Institute** of the Air Force in Akhtubinsk. There in the 60s. there were up to three Tu-22s at the same time, the main work on which was carried out by the crews of pilots S.L. Timonin, Yu.M. Sukhov and V.I. Kuznetsov (the latter received the title of Hero of the Soviet Union). At some stages other pilots were also involved, incl. Honored Test Pilot of the USSR A.Ya. Nikonov. He recalls: “...the tests of the missile carriers were very difficult, both in terms of the aircraft itself and in terms of missile launches. At supersonic speeds, due to uneven heating of the skin, the fuselage was deformed, which led to movement of the booster control rods. As a result, the control surfaces deflected, causing large heeling and turning moments. To parry them, for example, the steering wheel sometimes had to be turned 90°. In such conditions, let alone launches, it was dangerous to fly!
* Original name K-22. It had the following main parameters: length 11.6 m, span 3 m, launch weight about 6000 kg, warhead weight 1000 kg. Depending on the flight path, the X-22 launch range ranged from 150 to 500 km at a flight speed of up to 4000 km/h.
** State Scientific Testing Institute of the Red Banner.
Front landing gear niche
Tu-22KD missile carrier in flight
Tu-22R - the most popular version of the "twenty-second"
Tu-22U early production series
Preparing for the departure of the Tu-22UD. The fuel inlet rod has been removed from the aircraft. Nizhin, March 19, 1996
There were also difficulties with the autopilot, during the testing program of which test pilot V.F. Cherno-Ivanov and the operator died, only the navigator survived. Another test crew (pilot V. Korchagin, navigator G. Pronin and cameraman A. Sannikov) crashed after a fire in the air. One engine on their plane caught fire, but the instruments did not indicate a fire. After the alarming message “You’re on fire!” received from a pilot from the cosmonaut corps, who was “doing aerobatics” in a MiG-15 not far away. the commander asked for help from the “ground”, because The crew could not see the engines due to the design features. The command post ordered to descend and pass over the tower, which killed the pilots. Seeing the smoke, the flight director ordered to climb to 2000 m and eject, but it was too late - the plane crashed during the climb.
Although successful launches of the X-22 took place, the experimental Tu-22K, according to the decision of the State Commission, did not pass the tests. A strange situation has arisen: a machine is being mass-produced and supplied to parts that has not passed state tests. But Andrei Nikolayevich’s authority was unquestionable at that time, his connections were powerful and reliable, and therefore a compromise solution was born: the reconnaissance aircraft should be adopted as the main option (the latter did not need to launch supersonic missiles), and the missile carriers produced would be gradually modified. All ordered Tu-22Ks were built and entered the regiments, where they soon began to fight intensely, burying the crews under the rubble. There are known cases of pilots refusing to serve on these aircraft. Only repeated improvements (mainly in the control system, ultimately 8 sets of improvements were made) made it possible to correct the situation.”* In addition to the difficulties indicated by Nikonov, the creators of the Tu-22K were faced with the unreliable operation of the PN radar, which serves to guide the missile to the target, and many others problems. The development of the vehicle took a long time, and although it appeared in units in 1965, it was put into service only in 1967. In total, just over 70 of these missile carriers were produced in Kazan.
Modifications
At the end of 1960, a prototype of the Tu-22U combat training aircraft was built. The instructor pilot's cabin was installed above the dismantled air operator's cabin. The stern gun mount was not installed, and its place was covered with a fairing. The volume of the front fuselage fuel tank was reduced. The operator's functions to ensure the operation of aircraft equipment were distributed between the navigator and the instructor. Testing of the Tu-22U was completed in 1962, and in 1963 these vehicles began to enter service with the troops.
In May 1961, a prototype of the reconnaissance version of the Tu-22R appeared. The aircraft was intended for conducting aerial photographic reconnaissance at any time of the day, topographic aerial photography, electronic and radar reconnaissance using the Romb equipment and the Rubin-1A radar. Cameras were installed in the bomb bay in various combinations: AFA-40, AFA-41/20, AFA-42/20, AFA-42/75, AFA-42/100 and NAFA-MK-75. The reconnaissance aircraft was easily converted into a bomber.
* In 1969, A.Ya. Nikonov transferred from GNIKI to the Kazan plant, where he flew the Tu-22UD twins produced at that time - the last of the mass-produced variants. They had an improved control system, and he speaks very fondly of piloting them. In total, Nikonov performed 192 flights (374 flight hours) on the Tu-22.
According to the old refueling technique, the pilot flew the plane directly towards the cone (left). With the new one, he occupied a position five meters to the right of the cone (right)
Instead of photographic equipment, bomb racks of the required type were installed, and aiming was carried out using the Rubin-1 A radar or the OPB-15 sight. For individual protection during an air defense breakthrough, the Tu-22R was equipped with KDS-16 passive radio jammers, located in the rear of the nacelles of the main landing gear. In later production series, reconnaissance aircraft, like other combat modifications of the Tu-22, were not equipped with a stern rifle mount. In its place was installed the SPS-151 active radio jamming station, covered with a fairing (on some vehicles SPS-152 or SPS-153). Later vehicles differed in the composition of their electronic reconnaissance equipment and had additional antennas in the wing flap and on the fuselage. Tu-22R could be used as electronic warfare aircraft, for which an APP-22 assault rifle was installed in the bomb bay. In 1962, reconnaissance officers began to enter air regiments.
To cover the battle formations of the Tu-22K, in 1961 they created a specialized electronic warfare aircraft, the Tu-22P. Special equipment was located inside the fuselage and in a hanging container. These aircraft differed externally from the Tu-22R in the antenna fairings behind the cockpit and at the leading edge of the wing overhang. In total, about 30 Tu-22P-1 and P-2 were produced (each Tu-22K regiment had one Tu-22P squadron). During operation, a number of aircraft were modified and the Tu-22P-4, Tu-22P-6 and Tu-22P-7 appeared. The options differed in the composition of the equipment, types of external containers, number and shape of antennas.
In 1962, the Council of Ministers issued a resolution on the creation of an anti-radar strike system based on the Kh-22P missile. The missile carriers modified for this program received the designation Tu-22KP. They were equipped with target designation systems "Kurs-N" or "Kurs-NM", the antennas of which were initially located on the right side of the forward part of the fuselage or on the fuel receiver boom, and were later removed inside the fuselage.
Air refueling boom
Tu-22RD of the 199th OGDRAP refueling in the air from a Tu-16N
Since 1965, more powerful RD-7M2 engines began to be installed on the Tu-22. With the new power plant, the maximum speed of the “twenty-second” increased to 1600 km/h, finally reaching the value specified in the TTZ. To improve take-off characteristics, four SPRD-63 rocket boosters could be installed on all Tu-22s. At normal take-off weight, the take-off run length was reduced from 2300 to 1000 m. Tests with boosters took place in the early 60s without any particular problems. According to Nikonov, “the already “not quiet” plane roared so that those nearby had to clasp their heads in their hands and quickly “flee” as far as possible. The acoustic impressions were complemented by multi-meter tongues of flame escaping from the accelerators of the C 29 series.” 22, the fuselage fuel tank No. 1 was not installed. Starting from the 4th aircraft of the 35 series, the main landing gear began to be installed on an elastic suspension. The landing gear nacelle could now oscillate within the limits limited by the suspension system. This increased the critical flutter speed of the wing by 1.5 times and allowed. dismantle anti-flutter weights in the winglets.
Tu-22PD takes off. A container with electronic warfare equipment is installed under the fuselage
In 1962, aircraft with serial numbers 801 and 901 were experimentally equipped with in-flight refueling systems. According to Nikonov’s recollections, their tests, which included “multiple “contacts” with the Tu-16 in the tanker version,” were successful. Since 1965, such systems began to be installed on all produced aircraft, and the letter “D” was added to the designation of the aircraft - long-range. This is how the Tu-22RD/KD/KPD/PD/UD appeared.
In-flight refueling was considered “aerobatics” by long-range aviation pilots. This operation was difficult even for experienced pilots. Before it began, the Tu-22, flying at an altitude of 5000-8000 m at a speed of about 600 km/h, was positioned on the right rear, 50 m from the Tu-16 tanker. Then he fell behind, and when the distance between the planes increased to 150 m, the pilot began aiming at the refueling cone. In an effort to better perform the maneuver, he often involuntarily increased the thrust of the engines and the closing speed. The last 8-10 m the plane flew literally “on the nerves” of the pilot, before whose eyes the dark spot of the cone was rapidly growing. If the Tu-22 commander lacked attention and restraint, contact would not be successful and the plane would jump forward. To avoid colliding with the tanker, we had to move vigorously to the right and down. Then everything was repeated all over again. Inexperienced pilots did not even have enough 400-450 km route to refuel, and some could not cope with this task at all.
Pre-flight preparation of Tu-22KPD
"Unsinkable" tanker - a training target for missile carriers
In the 70s in the Nizhyn regiment under the leadership of V.L. Konstantinov, they developed a new, more effective refueling technique. From the right bearing, the refueling aircraft moved into the wake formation, so that its nose occupied a position next to the cone to the right, approximately 5 m. The pilot equalized the speed and gradually reduced the lateral distance to 1.5-2 m. Having fixed this position, he radioed to the tanker commander: “I’m making contact!” By increasing the engine speed, the Tu-22 pilot put the car into a slight left slide and found himself directly in front of the cone. After the boom “shot,” refueling began. Making contact with the cone without extending the bar, using only the levers, was considered a special “chic”.
Latest options
Suspension for the Tu-22KD cruise missile Kh-22
Wing of Tu-22RDK
Engine air intakes
Engine nacelle RD-7M-2
Serial construction of the Tu-22 continued in Kazan until 1969 - more than 250 copies were produced. After production of the aircraft ceased, a number of modifications arose, obtained through modifications to previously built aircraft. In 1975, one Tu-22R was converted to simultaneously conduct reconnaissance and bombing strikes. The photographic equipment was removed from the bomb bay, two AFA-42/100s were installed in place of the dismantled fuel tank No. 1, and another similar device was installed in the technical bay. A container with four short-focus AFAs could be suspended under the fuselage. The aircraft was equipped with a Ramrod side-view radar, as well as equipment for reconnaissance and mapping in the infrared spectrum. The aircraft did not have a stern gun mount and was equipped with an SPS-151 station and ASO-2I units. It received the designation Tu-22RM. In 1981-82 a small number of Tu-22RDs were modified in a similar way into the Tu-22RDM.
In the 70s Several Tu-22Rs were equipped with “Cube” electronic reconnaissance equipment, located in fairings along the cockpit and wing flaps. The aircraft received the designation Tu-22RK/RDK. One Tu-22R was equipped with an experimental set of radio suppression equipment. However, due to poor compatibility of the new equipment with the original, this option remained in a single copy.
In the early 70s. At the LII on the Tu-22, aerial cameras NA-Ya-7 and NA-Ya-8 were tested using illumination of the area with searchlights, as well as frame and panoramic AFA “Zone” for color and spectrozonal photography. The use of the latter significantly increased the likelihood of recognizing camouflaged targets. There is no information about the use of this equipment on combat Tu-22s.
In 1975, during an experiment to expand basing capabilities, a Tu-22 with two SPRD-63s was tested on an unpaved runway. The Air Force Research Institute recognized basing the aircraft on the ground as impossible due to high loads on the chassis and structure.
Tu-22RDM of the air regiment commander from Zyabrovka. Airborne number 19 is red. On the left side there is a green dragon, its belly and mouth are red, its muzzle and smoke are gray, its flame is orange
Tu-22R takes off
However, even before this “verdict,” there were “aces” in combat units who personally “tested” aircraft on the ground. An example is the landing of a pair of Tu-22Rs at the beginning of April 1969. The crews of the commander of the guard sub-sub Nikitin and the guard of the commander Polevoy, due to the worsening weather over Nezhin, were sent to an alternate airfield in Uzin. Before this, there was light snow, which “camouflaged” the concrete runway, and the spare dirt runway was much better visible from the air. Visibility was within 4000 m, and the commander, approaching the airfield using instruments, suddenly saw that there was an open field in front of him, and a runway on the left. Deciding that the instruments had failed, he turned left. Before the command post had time to give the command to go around, Nikitin’s plane was already rolling on the ground, leaving a rut. The chassis held up, and the Tu-22R, splashed with mud, got out onto the taxiway. Nikitin immediately commanded his wingman on the radio: “Trust the instruments!” However, Polevoy exactly repeated the leader’s mistake, and two dirty planes appeared in the parking lot. The vehicles successfully passed the “exam”, but the crews still had to endure the “delight” of the management. The chief of staff of the corps, General Pasichnik, was especially indignant: “Scouts,...! You must find a needle in a haystack, and you couldn’t distinguish a strategic strip 3.5 kilometers long and 100 meters wide from the ground!!!”
Exhaust neck of the KDS-16 assault rifle and ASO-2I cassette in the nacelle of the Tu-22RD chassis
The Tupolev Design Bureau constantly tried to improve the performance characteristics of the aircraft. To achieve high flight speeds, the possibility of using a wing with a thinner profile was studied. Acceptable takeoff and landing characteristics were to be ensured by a system for blowing off the boundary layer from the flaps. It was planned to install two RD-36-35 engines next to the engine nacelles as gas generators. The construction of this aircraft, designated Tu-22RTK, was not completed. Later, RD-35-36 were installed in the niches of the main landing gear of one of the serial Tu-22s as lifting ones. Projects to equip the Tu-22 with NK-144 and NK-6 engines were not implemented. The possibilities for modernizing the aircraft were exhausted, and a new aircraft was required to achieve higher performance. This was the Tu-22M, which appeared in 1969.
With red stars on the wings
Tu-22s began to enter service in 1962, and the first to receive them was the 43rd Long-Range Aviation Psbp and PLS in Dyagilev near Ryazan. Subsequently, only the 46th Air Army received the “twenty-second” in the DA. In the same year, the separate Guards Long-Range Reconnaissance Air Regiment (OGDRAP) in Zyabrovka near Gomel and the 15th Long-Range Reconnaissance Air Regiment (DRAP) of the Navy in Chkalovsky near Kaliningrad began rearmament from Tu-16 to Tu-22R. In July 1964, the 199th OGDRAP, based in Nezhin under the command of the guard p-ka A.S. Erokhin, began a theoretical retraining course, and on March 9, 1965 - flights on the Tu-22R. At the same time, the Navy reconnaissance air regiment in Saki also received new vehicles. Since 1965, deliveries of Tu-22K and Tu-22P began. The aircraft were delivered to the 121st Long-Range Bomber Aviation Regiment in Machulishchi near Minsk, the 203rd DBAP in Baranovichi and the 341st DBAP in Ozerny near Zhitomir.* During the same period, it was planned to deploy the Tu-22K in the Far East. Thus, the squadron of V.V. Gonchenko air regiment from Vozdvizhenka completed a full training course in Kazan. However, the command decided not to deploy missile carriers of this type in the east of the USSR, and the Vozdvizhenists continued to serve on the Tu-16.
* The numbering of air regiments and their locations are given as of the end of 1991. The information is compiled based on materials from the magazines Lotnictvo, July 1-15, 1992 and Air Forces Monthly, March 1994.
Combat equipment options for the Tu-22R
Among the personnel, the new car quickly received the nickname “awl” for its characteristic appearance. Its development was not easy. Take-off and landing speeds were 100 km/h higher than those of the Tu-16, and the KTS-22 simulators gave only a general idea of piloting, not allowing one to practice take-off and landing. Sparks often arrived very late. So, in the 199th OGDRAP, they appeared when the regiment was already flying with all its might on the new aircraft. According to pilots, the early Tu-22s were very difficult to fly. As Nikonov recalls, “two flights a day without an autopilot was the limit for anyone. The steering wheel had to be held with both hands - one was not strong enough. The landing was quite difficult: all pilots were repeatedly instructed not to exit at a speed of less than 290 km/h, otherwise the plane would sharply raise its nose, become a vertical “candle” and fall on its tail.” A newsreel of such a disaster even ended up in the feature film “Tenderness for the Roaring Beast,” which begins with tragic footage filmed in Ozerny in 1969. Major Varvarichev’s crew died in the burned-out Tu-22K.
A chronic disadvantage of the Tu-22 was its tendency to gallop during the run due to undamped vibrations of the landing gear. The resulting significant vibrations sometimes led to the opening of the lock and the folding of one of the racks. The plane was spinning onto the ground, the front strut immediately broke, and the nose of the fuselage was crushed by the impact on the ground. If the car was not thrown into an aircraft parking lot or airfield buildings, then, as a rule, only the navigator suffered.
Many problems for the crew were caused by poor ergonomic solutions for workplaces. “In the uncomfortable and cramped cabin, it was sometimes difficult to reach the desired switch. For example, on the first production aircraft, pilots used ropes, hooks and other “arm extensions” in flight. Then the power steering lever was made with a special extension.” (Nikonov). The pilot's seat shifted to the left made it possible to have an acceptable view in the most important direction "left-forward-down", but in a left side wind, when the pilot countered the slide by turning the plane into the wind, the central frame of the canopy blocked the view forward and the landing had to be carried out almost by intuition. Therefore, when there was a crosswind of more than 12 m/s, young and inexperienced pilots were not allowed to fly. There was even such a joke in the regiments: “A good reconnaissance officer is the one from whom the pilot sees only the sky, the navigator sees the ground below him and nothing ahead, and the air operator looks at the tail, but sees only the wing!” Ironically, this aircraft received the designation Blinder (blind) in the West.
Tupolev, according to Kerber, considered the Tu-22 one of his unlucky creations. During operation, this machine constantly presented “surprises” - one flight accident was rarely like another. In total, according to Nikonov’s calculations. before 1975, at least 70 “twenty-second” modifications of all modifications were destroyed, and many of these incidents claimed human lives.
Upper surface of the fuselage
Emergency hydraulic system turbogenerator fan in the extended position
Container with short-focus photographic equipment under the fuselage of the Tu-22RDM
Flight in formation
A drill review of Nezhin guardsmen during the inspection of the regiment by the commander of the USSR Yesterday Army, Air Marshal F.A. Agaltsov (center). On the far right is the corps commander, Lieutenant General V.V. Reshetnikov (future commander of the DA). 1968
Landing of the Tu-22KD at Vityazev (an X-22 missile is suspended under the plane). Galloping began; in a few seconds the left landing gear would collapse, and the missile carrier would suffer serious damage. Ozernoe, January 18, 1979
The flight shift is over. Tu-22PD is rolled into the parking lot
So, on the night of January 10, 1969. The crew of Mr. Cheperigin's guard from the Nezhin air regiment carried out bombing at the Kalinovka training ground in eastern Crimea. Having reported on the completion of the mission, the commander headed for Berdyansk, after which contact with the aircraft was lost. The winter was harsh, the Sea of Azov was covered with ice, and the search teams that took off in the morning found nothing. The crew was considered missing for almost six months. His fate became clear only after the discovery of the operator's rescue boat, but the causes of the incident remained unknown. This incident was the first disaster in the regiment since the development of the Tu-22. The next one happened on May 5th. In the afternoon, Mr. Doronin's guard crew set off to scout the weather. During the takeoff run at a speed close to takeoff, both engines failed. The pilot, trying to slow down, released the parachutes too early, they were torn off, and the fully loaded Tu-22 rolled off the runway. A swampy lowland began 700 m from it. On soft ground, the front strut broke, and the entire bow section went underground, crushing the crew... The cause of the failure also could not be determined.
The Tu-22 was not originally intended for night formation flights and did not have the appropriate equipment. However, such tasks were part of the combat training program, which was associated with significant risk. So, on the night of July 25, 1969, after completing a mission, two Tu-22Rs collided over the airfield of the 199th OGDRAP: the guard commander Feoktistov rammed the plane of his leading guard sub-sub Liskov. The presenter's crew ejected safely and after 15 minutes. explained at the CP. Feoktistov ejected without giving the command to the navigator and operator, who, until the collision with the ground, unsuccessfully asked the commander: “When to jump?...”. Their car crashed into the ground at approximately 100 m of the runway. Liskov's damaged plane continued to fly on autopilot for another 52 minutes, performing left turns. Gradually he shifted towards Nezhin and, with an ever-increasing list, continued his terrible trick, heading along the main street of the sleeping city towards the railway station. The interceptors raised from Vasilkov did not dare to shoot down the plane over Nezhin. Above the station, the roll of the uncontrollable car reached a critical level, and it fell into a tailspin and fell into a swamp 500 m from the station.
Flight accidents also happened for seemingly incredible reasons, in particular due to explosions of their own bombs. So, on the night of April 2, 1976, the crew of the guard of Mr. Zaiki carried out bombing at the Karangaysky training ground, 70 km northeast of Kizlyar. When a series of six FOTAB-250-215s were dropped, one bomb exploded in the aircraft, breaking it in half. During the ejection, the commander and operator, unable to fix their hands, were injured. The operator landed 30 km from Kizlyar, bandaged his broken arm and took a passing car to the hospital, where the doctor on duty that night was... his brother. For the pilot, everything also ended well. The navigator died: before the bombing, for ease of aiming, he took off his shoulder straps and during the fall of the car he was not immediately able to put them on, and when he ejected, the altitude turned out to be too low... After this incident, special tests of FOTAB-250-215 were carried out in Akhtubinsk, which ended in a similar disaster. The use of such bombs was subsequently prohibited.
Aerial cameras in the cargo compartment of the Tu-22R
Astrosextants BC-63 on the fuselage garrot
OPB-15A sight window
The Tu-22RDK crew takes their jobs
During combat training, each crew was required to perform at least two supersonic flights annually. As a rule, the aircraft was in this mode for no more than 10 minutes. Maneuvers were carried out, including rolls up to 60°, missile launches and bombing. Usually, the shock wave from an aircraft flying at high altitude does not pose a danger to people and buildings, but in the early 70s. An incident occurred that literally “caused a stir.” At an altitude of 11,000 m, the Nezhin Tu-22R flew at supersonic speed over the city of Sumy. Unfortunately, the state of the atmosphere that evening turned out to be anomalous, and the shock wave retained its destructive power to the ground. Not only glass in residential buildings was blown out, but even the thick windows of a department store and restaurant in the city center.
Supersonic flights near the ground were not carried out due to strength limitations. However, the crew's combat training program included low-altitude flights at high subsonic speeds. The Tu-22, which does not have a system for following the terrain and is strict in control, literally “exhausted” the pilot in such modes. Naturally, there were flight accidents. So, on April 12, 1978, while flying at an ultra-low altitude over the Belarusian training ground Polesskoye, the plane of Mr. Mikhalev’s guard fell behind the leader. When trying to catch up with the commander's car, the pilot lost control and his Tu-22R crashed into the ground.
How the Tu-22 combat system was developed by the early 70s. The reliability of the aircraft has increased significantly, and pilots who have mastered the aircraft well, comparing it with the Tu-22M, said: “If something had happened, I would have gone into battle with the Tu-22.”
The regiments equipped with the “twenty-second” had very specific tasks. The Tu-22K was intended to attack NATO military targets in Europe and aircraft carrier groups of the US 6th Fleet. In the latter case, it was assumed that, having passed over the territory of the socialist countries, the planes would go to the Balkans and further to the Mediterranean. The crews practiced such tasks at a training ground in the northeastern part of the Caspian Sea, “punching holes” in the sides of retired ships.
The task of the Tu-22R was to conduct reconnaissance of air defense systems, control systems and other military installations of a potential enemy deployed on land, as well as tracking warships and sea convoys. The Nezhinsky regiment conducted strategic reconnaissance in the Central European, southwestern and southern directions (Germany-Austria-Greece-Bosphorus-Marmara Sea and Black Sea-Turkey-Iran, respectively). The Zyabrovsky regiment worked in the Baltic, the northwestern theater of operations, and even went “around the corner” (as the Kola Peninsula is called in aviator jargon) to Norway. There was also a training direction - to the east towards the Volga region training grounds and to the Caspian Sea region. It was a kind of “mirror image” of probable routes to the West. Similar tasks were performed by the Tu-22 of the Navy Aviation. Reconnaissance flights in peacetime were akin to combat flights, accompanied by a fair amount of risk and frequent encounters with aircraft of a “probable enemy.” Therefore, already after 20 flights over neutral waters and for performing real reconnaissance, the crew could be nominated for government awards.
The most difficult and dangerous operation when operating over the sea in wartime was considered to be the defeat of an aircraft carrier. It was supposed to involve at least four reconnaissance aircraft, up to a regiment of missile carriers and one or two squadrons of fighters. Tu-22R went first. Their task is to identify the aircraft carrier from all the ships of the carrier strike group (ACG) and report its exact coordinates to the strike group. When approaching the ships, one pair of Tu-22Rs remained at altitude to jam and relay intelligence information, the second “fell” to a height of 100 m and broke through to the AUG at a visual contact range of 10-15 km. As soon as an aircraft carrier was detected, the number of its “square” was communicated to the missile carriers, who launched launches from a line of about 300 km. Then the task of the couple who broke through to the ships “was completely simplified.” She needed, firstly, to avoid defeat when her missiles exploded, and secondly, to evade enemy missiles (launch range - up to 30 km) and carrier-based fighters (interception range - up to 600 km). The reader can assess his chances of survival for himself...
Maintenance of Tu-22KD. Baranovichi, mid-80s.
Suspension of aerial bombs in a converted Tu-22KD (view against flight)
Cargo compartment of the Tu-22R (view against flight). Cluster bomb racks visible
The peacetime operation described above amounted to locating a group of NATO warships, flying over, photographing and tracking. This was often accompanied by quite tough opposition. Thus, according to the recollections of pilots from Zyabrovka, NATO fighters positioned themselves strictly under the fuselage of the Tu-22R, covering their ships and interfering with photography, pushing the reconnaissance aircraft away from the convoy, performing dangerous maneuvers in close proximity to it, etc. Tracking individual ships was an easier task. In the Black Sea, scouts “herded” US NAVY ships that appeared there.
One of the typical techniques for using the Tu-22R was called a “prick” and was intended to open the air defense system of the country of interest. The plane was following strictly in the direction of the state border, and as it approached, air defense systems were activated: missile detection and guidance radars, communication lines, fighters. Meanwhile, the reconnaissance aircraft's onboard equipment recorded their parameters. Approximately 20 km from the border, a sharp turn was made to the opposite course - the job was done, now let them “scratch the pricked spot.”
They got it from the Tu-22R and their own air defense, which they “inspected” quite regularly. One of the checks in the late 80s. simulated a massive “enemy” raid from the south. The entire territory of Ukraine was divided into 16 corridors, where 16 Tu-22Rs rushed from neutral waters at an ultra-low altitude, using the topography of the sea coastline and river beds. The result turned out to be scandalous: some of the planes broke through completely unnoticed, some of those discovered were not conditionally destroyed, or they were able to be “hit” too late at great depths. As a result, as after Rust’s landing on Red Square, there followed a “changing of the guard” in the air defense - this time in the southern districts. Routine tasks for the Tu-22R crews were flights to check the operational camouflage of their troops, command posts, missile launchers and other objects. For example, in Ukraine and Belarus they were looking for the SS-20, in the Moscow region - ICBM launchers on railway traction.
Tu-22PD over the mountains of Afghanistan
Tu-22s were used at the final stage of hostilities in Afghanistan. In October 1988, Tu-22MZ from Poltava and four Tu-22PD from Ozerny arrived at the Mary-2 airfield. The task of the electronic warfare aircraft was to provide cover for the Backfires during combat missions to areas adjacent to the border with Pakistan, in particular to the Khost area. Pakistani F-16s were increasingly active in these areas, and the possibility of using radar-guided air defense systems could not be ruled out. In early December, Poltava residents were replaced by a Tu-22MZ regiment from Orsha. Pilots from Ozernoye continued to cover the bombers until the beginning of January 1989, after which they were replaced by four from Baranovichi. By this time, there were almost no flights near the Pakistani border - the main combat work took place in the area of the Salang Pass. The need for jammers disappeared, and in early February the Tu-22PDs of the 203rd DBAP left Mary-2.
Tu-22R from Nizhyn were also preparing to conduct photographic reconnaissance in Afghanistan. On November 3, 1988, three vehicles were relocated to Mozdok, but a week later they were returned without making a single combat mission.
Surprisingly, the Tu-22R was also used in the national economy. They flew to natural disasters: forest and peat fires, floods, etc. At the same time, the relevant services very quickly received photo tablets of the events.
Tu-22PD of the 341st TBAP, on which the crew of sub-sub V.V. Melnik carried out combat missions to Afghanistan. (Fragments of coloring are on the 2nd page of the cover)
Under the banner of Islam*
Tu-22s were exported only to Iraq and Libya: under the designation Tu-22B, more than 20 Tu-22Rs were delivered, on which reconnaissance equipment was dismantled, as well as several Tu-22Us. The regimes of S. Hussein and M. Gaddafi, who were friends with the USSR, acquired such powerful weapons, planning attacks on Israel, but their pilots had to fight with neighboring Muslim countries.
Arab crews mastered the Tu-22 at the air regiment base in Zyabrovka. The Iraqis arrived first. Their training took place in 1973-74. under the leadership of General Mr. V.S. Shukshin with the participation of the most experienced crews from Nezhin. According to the instructors, their students very conscientiously studied everything related to the practical operation of the aircraft, and on the contrary, they treated the theoretical course, to put it mildly, with lukewarmness. There were no problems with the language barrier, because... The vast majority of Iraqi aviators received their specialty in the USSR. At the end of the course, they were given the opportunity to select the best aircraft in technical condition for the regiment, on which the group flew home. In 1976, the Libyans also mastered the Tu-22.
The first reliably known fact of the combat use of the Tu-22 dates back to the Tanzanian-Ugandan war of 1978-79. When the dictator of Uganda I. Amin began to suffer defeat, he turned to Colonel M. Gaddafi for help. He respected the request, which was confirmed by the raid of two Tu-22 Libyan Air Force on the Tanzanian city of Mwanza on the night of March 29-30, 1979. Fortunately, there were no civilian casualties.
* AiV’s regular author Alexander V. Kotlobovsky took part in the preparation of this section
Images on board the Tu-22PD (tail numbers 51 and 57) of the 203rd DBAP, which took part in the Afghan war
The main battlefield for the Libyan Tu-22s was Chad, where there was a civil war between the Libyan group of G. Weddey and the regime of H. Habré, supported by France and the United States. Tupolev's bombers could reach any point in Chad, and Habré's lack of effective air defense allowed these raids to be carried out with impunity. Thus, on October 9, 1980, a Tu-22 group struck the positions of Habré’s detachments near the capital of Chad, N’Djamena, providing Oueddei’s troops with a temporary victory. A year later, the war flared up again. In July-September 1983, Tu-22s carried out a series of attacks on Habré's troops near Fada, Faya-Largeau and Umm Shaloub.
Military operations in Chad resumed at the beginning of 1986. On February 17, a Libyan Tu-22, starting from Sebha airbase, attacked N'Djamena airport at 7.00. “Twenty-second” dropped three 500-kg bombs on the runway, one of which exploded exactly on the runway, forming a crater with a diameter of 20 m and a depth of 8 m. As a result, the airport was closed for 36 hours, and the Tu-22 escaped with impunity. The French providing air defense for N'Djamena, making excuses for the unexpected raid, suggested that the Tu-22 was either walking along a civilian air corridor and was mistaken for a scheduled airliner, or was flying at an extremely low altitude above the bed of a dry river, gaining altitude (3000-5000 m) directly at goals.
From October 1986 to March 1987, during the offensive of the Libyan army in northern Chad in the Tibe highlands, the appearance of the Tu-22 was again noted. In March, Habré's troops seized the initiative and, after stubborn fighting, captured the Libyan airbase of Ouadi Doum, located in Chad. Among the trophies were two Tu-22s. Gaddafi, who took this defeat painfully, ordered a strike on Wadi Doum. Several Tu-22s took part in the action, but its results were insignificant. On August 8, the Chadians captured the Libyan Aouza airbase in a strip disputed between the countries. Gaddafi's troops launched a series of counterattacks, making extensive use of aircraft, including a Tu-22, one of which was shot down by a MANPADS missile*. On September 5, the Chadians defeated the Maaten es-Sara airbase already on Libyan territory. In response, Gaddafi ordered a new air raid on the Chadian capital. On September 6, a pair of Tu-22s appeared in the area of N'Djamena airport. This time, the French 405th Anti-Aircraft Missile Regiment rose to the occasion, shooting down one bomber with a Hawk missile defense system (the crew died). The second plane hastily dropped its cargo and left. The final chord of the Tu-22's combat career in Chad was the bombing of Ouadi Doum, Fada and Fay-Largeau.
Tu-22 of the Iraqi Air Force at a repair plant in Ryazan. The configuration of the interface between the radar radome and the fuselage is typical for early Tu-22R
Tu-22 of the Libyan Air Force over the Mediterranean Sea. On the plane - old-style identification marks
Gaddafi had “ideological differences” with another African dictator, Sudanese General J. Nimeiri, who helped Habré. As a consequence of this, in mid-March 1984, one Tu-22 bombed the city of Omdurman. As a result, five people died and numerous were injured. In 1985, a new regime came to power in Sudan. According to Western observers, in March 1986, Sudanese crews carried out a series of bombing attacks on bases and strongholds of the armed opposition in the south using Tu-22s provided by Gaddafi. The Tu-22 is still in service with the Libyan Air Force. At the beginning of 1995, 6 vehicles were in service.
* According to other sources, with the help of a captured Soviet air defense system “Cube”.
The Tu-22 of the Iraqi Air Force was used from the first days of the war with Iran, which began on September 19, 1980. The range of the “twenty-second” made it possible to strike any target on Iranian territory. They were used both day and night. The discipline of Saddam Hussein's pilots was ironclad, and one of the Soviet military advisers became an involuntary witness of this. When the Tu-22 crews were assigned their first real combat missions, one of the pilots expressed his reluctance to shed the blood of Muslim brothers. Local “special officers” immediately took him behind the plane in front of everyone and shot him. The crews had no more doubts...
Central navigator's console and OPB-15 sight on the Tu-22KD
Tu-22R cockpit instrument panel
The primary targets for the “twenty-second” were military and industrial facilities in Tehran and Isfahan. Thus, on September 23, the international capital airport was bombed, and, according to the Iranians, one Tu-22 was shot down. In early October, the Twenty-Second group, accompanied by fighter jets, launched a powerful attack on two car assembly plants located near Tehran airport.
For a short time at the beginning of the conflict, Tu-22s were based at airfields in Saudi Arabia and North Yemen. Such a redeployment, undertaken by Saddam Hussein in agreement with the governments of these countries, made it possible to protect expensive bombers from Iranian air raids. Intensive combat work of the “twenty-second” continued until the end of 1980. Then, for two years, they were used only sporadically due to the Soviet embargo on the supply of weapons, ammunition and spare parts. It is known that in 1982 several strikes were carried out against targets deep in Iran, primarily against oil refineries and troop concentrations. That year, the Iranians announced the destruction of two Tu-22s.*
Since May 1985, Iraqi planes, including Tu-22s, again began to bomb Tehran, Isfahan, Shiraz and other Iranian cities, as well as the oil terminal on Kharg Island. For example, in 16 days at the end of May and beginning of June, 23 raids were carried out on Tehran. In response, Iran subjected Baghdad to a missile attack and several air raids. Thus began the “war of the cities,” which continued intermittently until the end of the conflict. Iraqi pilots, faced with increased enemy air defense, were able to verify the good combat survivability of the Tu-22. Thus, there is a known case when a missile fired from an Iranian “Phantom” destroyed half of the bomber’s aircraft. The crew felt the impact and some deterioration in longitudinal control, but brought the plane safely to the base. In another case, the bottom of the fuselage was seriously damaged by fragments of a Hawk air defense missile, but this vehicle also returned home safely.
Air operator console, tube of radar screens and tele-sights of the aft rifle installation
Last landing. Engels, 1994
In March 1988, Tu-22s joined the “tanker war”. On March 19, their crews managed to set fire to two Iranian supertankers: Avai (displacement 316,379 tons) and Sanandai (253,837 tons). More than 50 people died.
When in the second half of 1988 the war ended, there were only 5 Tu-22s in the Iraqi Air Force. In January 1991, the US media announced that during Operation Desert Storm these aircraft were destroyed on the ground by coalition aircraft. However, according to Flight International magazine, at the beginning of 1995 the Iraqi Air Force had four Tu-22s. The technical condition of these machines was not reported. At the beginning of this year, the Iraqis announced that they had managed to bring their Tu-22s into combat-ready condition.
* Information coming from the media of Iran and Iraq requires a very careful approach. When analyzing the combat reports of that war, one gets the impression that both sides repeatedly inflicted irreparable losses on their enemy’s air force, but continued to fight with no less “success.”
Instead of an epilogue
8 late 70s The gradual replacement of the Tu-22 in the reconnaissance air regiments of the USSR Navy began. The Chernomorians rearmed with the Tu-22M2. The Baltic Fleet pilots, having transferred old equipment to Zyabrovka, received Su-24 front-line bombers in return.
Tu-22 of the 46th VA served until the collapse of the USSR. At the beginning of 1992, long-range aviation formations on the territory of Belarus came under the jurisdiction of Russia. In 1994, the air regiments from Zyabrovka, Baranovichi and Machulishchi were disbanded, and the Tu-22 was relocated to Engels. There, 63 cars out of 92 that arrived were put into storage. The rest, in accordance with treaties on the reduction of offensive weapons, are gradually transferred for destruction.
Ukraine inherited about 30 missile carriers and 30 Tu-22* reconnaissance aircraft. Aircraft that have reached the end of their service life are currently being sent for recycling. The remainder continue to be in service. Their crews are staffed by real professionals, for example, in the Nizhyn regiment at the time of the formation of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, most of the pilots and navigators were first class. Lack of fuel, spare parts and other known difficulties have led to a significant reduction in flight activity. Despite this, the aviators manage to maintain a high level of training, which is confirmed by the actions of the Tu-22R crew consisting of: sub-regiment commander E.S. Kolupanov (from Ozerny), navigator - senior navigator of the sub-regiment B.G. Nasrutdinov , air operator - Mr. A.F. Kovalev. On May 25, 1995, after completing a mission over the neutral waters of the Black Sea, the engine of their plane failed. According to the navigator's calculations, it was not possible to fly to Nezhin, and the pilot skillfully landed the faulty aircraft at an alternate airfield near Odessa.
In modern Ukraine, Tu-22Rs also perform national economic tasks. In the current situation, aerial reconnaissance officers were able to earn funds that the army now lacks by performing photography for mapping, geodesy and land management, and monitoring natural disasters.
About 40 years have passed since the first takeoff of the Tu-22. Of the almost ten types of supersonic bombers that appeared in the world before the mid-60s, only the “twenty-second” is still in service. The supersonic centenarian has every chance of meeting the third millennium in service.
At the finish line... Ukrainian Tu-22 liquidation base, Nezhin, 1994.
On April 19, 1988, all three squadrons of our regiment flew to the Troitskoye airfield, in Kalmykia, our permanent base. Our incompetent rear officers, as always, “prepared everything.” When I arrived at the “flight module”, I saw a structure made of plywood, very reminiscent of a large cowshed. Even to enter it you had to step over a water pipe, in which water never appeared. Along the walls there were dismantled iron beds and soldiers' bedside tables with stools, everything was very second-hand.
I had to quickly set up construction with my own hands. The “cow barn” was divided into large rooms, into squadrons, partitions were erected from building materials found on site, doors were hung, and beds were assembled. Our technical staff did the same thing. The barracks for the soldiers was more or less normal. The next day they worked on the construction of squadron headquarters and flight training classes, which were also “cow barns”, only smaller in size. In general, there was a complete impression that no one was waiting for us here.
The airfield itself was built by cutting off the top of a huge hill. The earth was of a reddish hue, all around were sad Kalmyk steppes with stunted grass, almost no bodies of water, no trees at all. From the air everything was monotonous - gray, some kind of “lunar landscape”. The water was only imported, undrinkable due to the very high salt content. Next to us stood the barracks of military builders, who for some reason were left here. They had no discipline at all.
The DOS that were promised to us earlier seemed to have been built on the outskirts of Elista, but they were immediately populated by local residents. And it all seemed as if it was the way it should be... Criminals have always been exiled to such places, and now we find ourselves in their position. But still it was necessary to live, serve, fly. On April 23, regular flights began and “the wheel started turning.”
Only the third squadron flew with the cadets on the L-39. They “chopped” the most unpretentious ones - the Cubans. They did not pay much attention to the spartan living conditions, to the common “latrines”, to the almost complete absence of any entertainment. It would be unthinkable to send cadets from Arab countries here. They would have gone on strike within a few days, and quite rightly so.
At the end of April and beginning of May, the steppe around us for a short time turned into a blooming miracle. Seas of colorful tulips, silver feather grass, steppe grasses tried their best to show their beauty in the short time that nature allowed them. Soon the heat and lack of water will turn the steppe into some kind of “lunar landscape.”
The main and, perhaps, the only advantage of this place was the large and free air space, and also the fact that it did not have to be shared with anyone. But there was also a lot that did not depend on us. The air temperature in summer almost always stayed under forty degrees in the shade. Frequent dust storms, a huge number of flies, constant lack of water. It was possible to sleep only by constructing a kind of coffin lid over the bed from a sheet and wire. Air conditioners were given to the common room for the pilots so that at least they could sleep normally. The food in the dining room was very mediocre.
On Saturday afternoons, an Il-76 flew in and part of the personnel went to their families in Krasnodar and Primorsko-Akhtarsk on Sunday. Those who remained had two options for rest. The first and main thing is to get drunk on the spot, if there was something to drink. The second was to get to Elista by “transport”, and there they waited for the “blessings of civilization” in the form of cinema, beer, and local women. At this time, the entire country, under the leadership of Gorbachev, pretended to be fighting drunkenness. Buying alcohol was not an easy task. No one even thought about any organization of recreation for personnel. Representatives of the school management appeared extremely rarely. They tried not to stay with us; they felt very uncomfortable here.
In August, on Aviation Day, an “air show” was organized at the airfield with the invitation of a large number of residents of Elista and Troitsky. Our commander, Ivashenko, allowed us to prepare “something simple” on our combat aircraft. At first, I still tried to offer something original, but the commander, looking at me with understanding eyes, invariably repeated the same phrase: “Yuri Petrovich, they won’t understand us,” transparently hinting at the higher-ups. Alas, he was absolutely right. But still, our pair of MiGs, consisting of Orekhov and Sisketov, was the “highlight” of the program.
By the beginning of October, the regiment had successfully achieved all its objectives. It was impossible to stay here for the winter and we again flew to Primorsko-Akhtarsk. Soon we had an emergency. Our regiment commander, Pyotr Mikhailovich Ivashenko, and three local warrant officers drowned while hunting. They walked along the reeds in the estuary, suddenly a strong wind rose and began to drive water from the sea. Its level quickly rose above the waders and the hunters were found as they were walking - one after another. The low temperature of the water immobilized them and they, losing consciousness, fell face down into the water.
The regiment commander was Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Konstantinovich Isakov. I knew him only from the best side; he did not have any shortcomings inherent in most commanders. He tried to promote me to the position of deputy. regiment commander, not paying attention to my “bachelor” status. And no one seemed to be against it, all the interviews went well, but the appointment order never came. So our country has finally lost a talented “commander” in my person.
On March 10, 1989, we flew to Kalmykia. Now we already knew what awaited us there, so we were “fully armed.” Having quickly restored the partially looted “apartments” and made the necessary preparations, we began flying on the fifteenth.
A few years ago, from the moment I was appointed to the position of deputy. AE commander, I tried to introduce my experience in training cadets “to the masses.” But all my efforts ran into a certain “conservatism” of the flight instructors. No one was “burning” with the desire to change anything, and in response to my calls to give their proposals for improving teaching methods, everyone modestly remained silent. When I became a squadron commander, I acquired a certain amount of power that allowed me to move from persuasion to action. But the opportunity to test everything in practice appeared only this year, when cadets from Hungary were added to the squadron.
Ninety-five percent of the time allotted for preparing for flights was always spent on “writing.” This useless work produced almost no real effectiveness, because it was designed “for the prosecutor.” If anything happened: accidents, catastrophes, gross mistakes in piloting and the like, then the flight documentation was always “arrested”. It was based on the results of its inspection that the main conclusions were drawn about the causes of flight accidents. Therefore, the main thing was not preparation for flights, but its reflection on paper.
I could not cancel the “writing”; it was not in my power. A simple analysis of the causes of flight accidents in schools clearly showed that approximately 80% of them occur during approach and landing. Quite a lot of trouble is also caused by illiterate actions when an emergency situation occurs in flight.
The essence of the technique was, like everything “brilliant,” simple. We needed universal schemes for switching attention in real time, both when flying in a circle, and when any emergency situation occurs in the air. In addition, when demonstrating the correction of deviations on landing, it was necessary to show such large “leveling” and “soaring” that not a single cadet would be able to tolerate in independent flights. Having seen how easily everything can be corrected with proper control of the plane, no one will allow panic actions, which usually led to rough landings and even accidents.
I started by polishing the techniques and literally forcing all the squadron pilots, starting with the flight commanders, to take tests on them. Almost no one passed the first time, but these demands of mine were accepted, to put it mildly, without enthusiasm. I personally took each pilot to demonstrate and correct landing deviations. Each flight group made a folding runway model. “On foot and in flight” training was carried out “in nature”, in conditions “as close as possible to combat”, in real time. All cadets, without exception, passed the same tests to me before performing the check flight for permission to fly independently.
It is known that after repeated, at least three hundred, monotonous and correct repetitions of any actions, everything is fixed in the subconscious at the level of reflexes.
The correctness of any theory is determined by practice. All of our cadets took off independently, flew steadily, and successfully completed the program. I don’t remember a single rough landing or any problems when performing flights in any type of flight training.
In August, on Aviation Day, we again organized an air show. There were several times more people than last year. This time our couple, me and Sisketov, first walked over the very heads of the spectators, and then performed a more complex program than a year ago. The people were absolutely delighted.
The canteen earned much better, as cooks and waitresses from other regiments began to be sent to us for a month on a business trip. The school command even sent us several air conditioners to make our life easier. But the patience of the flight and technical personnel has already run out. For the fifth year we were constantly moved from place to place, wives and children saw their fathers, four to five months a year. And the end of our “ordeals” was not in sight. We called a general meeting of officers and decided to send several people to Moscow to present our problems there. The regiment's leadership was against it, but could not convince anyone.
In October, we successfully completed all the tasks assigned to us and left the Kalmyk steppes forever, flying to Primorsko-Akhtarsk. Our second squadron became the best in the school at the end of the year. This was the last success of the regiment, since soon a decision came from Moscow to disband our unit.
The main part of our squadron, together with me, was transferred to the “Kushchevsky” regiment. There it was soon disbanded (the best squadron of the school!). We always “knew how” to value people... My experience in training cadets turned out to be of no use to anyone...
We were lucky in only one way. At this time, a new house was put into operation and all my pilots and technicians soon received apartments. There was no position for me, so I flew for personal development and became a “full-time” pilot for flying aircraft after repairs, and also ferryed aircraft from other airfields.
In the mid-summer of 1990, I had an attack of urolithiasis, a stone passed from my kidney, a consequence of the quality of Kalmyk water. A hospital in Rostov-on-Don, then a hospital in Moscow. My health was completely restored, but I didn’t fly anymore. Feeling useless and completely lacking any further prospects, I wrote a report asking to be fired “due to staff reduction.” They signed him willingly. Since March 1991, I have been “at the disposal of the Commander of the North Caucasian Military District Air Force.”
The only joy in this sad time was the visits of Gena Stern to the regiment. A cheerful company consisting of Stern, me and Sergei Shnyagin gathered in my apartment. Recordings of some songs and flight tales have still been preserved.
In August 1991, a “coup” occurred and after some time the country plunged into the abyss of “market relations.” Soon, several scoundrels, not knowing what they were doing, guided solely by personal ambitions, signed the “Belovezhskaya Accords” and the USSR ceased to exist. On December 8th, an order came for my dismissal. I “rented” a large garage from Sasha Bobov. With difficulty, but I got several tens of kilograms of meat for barbecue and two boxes of vodka. He invited about thirty pilots and arranged a “dumping party”. My former pilots, Rechinsky and Tarasov, helped me prepare everything, and were the main producers of barbecue. There is still a tape of the voices from that farewell evening. Some pilots are no longer alive.
“Gone” - Lyosha Gorbulin, Kolya Kasyanov, Sasha Pevtsov, Sergey Shnyagin. Quite recently, Sasha Alexandrov, Volodya Vilkov, Yura Grunin, Vitya Elbakyan passed away, and these are just those I learned about... The oldest of them was not even fifty-five years old. One can say about each of them that they were all real pilots. Fortunately, almost all of them have their continuation - children.
“... someone, sparingly and clearly, counted down the hours for us,
Our life is short, like a strip of concrete,
And on it, who crashed, who took off forever,
Well, I landed, that’s the problem...”
V. Vysotsky
Afterword
So many wonderful people served alongside me. The presentation format does not allow me to remember everyone, please excuse me. This “work” shows a tiny piece of the very complex and interesting life of pilot instructors and cadets. I wrote almost nothing about our technical staff, about these real aviation workers. They had a very difficult time, but the vast majority of these officers and warrant officers are worthy of all respect for their dedicated work. Thank you, without your hands we would not be able to fly.
Well, pilots, with rare exceptions, will forever remain for me the color of our Russian nation, regardless of their nationality. I am proud that for more than twenty years we flew, served and lived the same life with these wonderful people. I love you!
year 2009. August. Orekhov Yu.P.
Application. The Tale of Ivanushka...
In a certain Kingdom, in a certain State, there lived Ivanushka, either the Tsarevich, or the Fool... As long as he could remember, he always dreamed of only one thing - to live in a transcendental country and have a friend - a magical winged horse with a fiery red tail. Soon the fairy tale will be told, but it will not be done soon... RosIvanushka grew up. It's time to hit the road, look for your magic horse in a distant, transcendental land.
Having said goodbye to his family and throwing his knapsack over his shoulders, Ivanushka set off on a long journey. The path to my dream was difficult. He lay through hot sands, dirty swamps, dense forests and high mountains, but Ivanushka overcame everything and came to a transcendental country, where cheerful and brave people lived and lived, just like him, who came from different Kingdoms-States.
There Ivanushka found his magical winged horse with a fiery red tail. They fell in love at first sight and became the most faithful friends forever. Together with the winged horse, Ivanushka rose higher than the highest mountains, flew among snow-white clouds, swept faster than the wind over the seas and forests...
His winged horse never let him down, carried him out of any troubles and Ivanushka was not afraid of anything while they were together. When it was damp and gloomy on earth, Ivanushka knew that his faithful friend was always ready to lift him to the sun and stars. Time flew unnoticed in the transcendental land...
How long, how short... But somewhere above, the wheel of fate turned with a grinding sound and the time had come to part with the winged horse and leave the transcendental country forever. Ivanushka hugged his faithful friend by the marvelous swan neck, whispered tender words for the last time, said goodbye and went down to where he began his journey.
It was forever etched in his memory: the winged horse stood sadly and incessantly looked after him, motionless, like a statue...
Ivanushka descended lower and lower, the air became denser, it became increasingly difficult to breathe. He brought nothing with him from the transcendental land, neither gold nor silver. He did not bring Vasilisa the Beautiful either... All that remained with Ivanushka was the memory of his winged friend and the cheerful and brave inhabitants of this country.
Good people lived where he returned, but almost all of them believed that their best friend was not some strange winged horse, but a well-fed bull with a heavy scruff and a gold chain, or a fat hog with a thick layer of lard.
Over the years that Ivanushka spent in the transcendental land, he became a Tsarevich, but here he began to feel like a Fool who did not understand the simplest truths of life...
Once upon a time there lived Ivanushka...
Explanations of terms and abbreviations
(for readers unfamiliar with aviation terms):
- AE - aviation squadron.
- ARK - automatic radio compass.
- BPRS - near-range radio station. Usually located at a distance of one kilometer from the runway.
- used - used.
- V.ch - military unit.
— fuels and lubricants.
— DPRS – long-range drive radio station. Usually located at a distance of four kilometers from the runway.
— Runway (concrete) – runway. The usual standard: width - forty-five meters, length two thousand five hundred meters.
— VSKP (removal) is a remote command and control tower, on which the PRP is usually located.
- VO - military district.
- Air force - air force.
- VOTP - air-fire and tactical training.
— DOS is the house of officers.
— DOSAAF is a voluntary society for assistance to the army, aviation and fleet.
— IAS – engineering and aviation service.
— K.Z. – flight commander.
— KUR – heading angle of the radio station (the angle between the direction of flight of the aircraft and the direction to the DPRS).
— Control center is a command and control tower (the main part of the flight management and support group is usually located there).
— KULP – flight training course.
— OK – objective control (flight parameters recorders).
— PRP – assistant flight director.
- PMU - simple weather conditions.
— PFO – psychophysiological selection.
— Thruster – engine control lever.
- RSP - radar landing system. Usually located near the center of the runway.
- RD - taxiway.
- RLP - radar sight.
— RS – unguided rockets.
— Sparka is a plane with dual controls.
— SMU – difficult weather conditions.
- North Caucasus Military District - North Caucasus Military District.
- SPU - aircraft intercom.
— CZ – central refueling station (the place where inter-flight preparation of aircraft for flights is carried out).
Story 1 (About the phase)
Late 70s. Manitou. I don’t know where it is, maybe Mongolia, maybe the Chita region - I don’t know, don’t blame me.
After college, my dad, a young and green lieutenant, arrived to serve at the unit’s location. Well, he was sent to settle in and set up his own workplace.
Well, as is customary with grandfathers, you need to pin up the flyer, the guy is five minutes away from demobilization...
Well, one brave guy went to the baht with an empty bucket and asked for a phase.
Dad became fascinated, calls the old, old ensign, nicknamed Dida, and asks:
- It says what?, and points to the fighter with the bucket.
Well, Didu didn’t think twice, and there was a fist as big as a pioneer’s head, hitting the fighter in the forehead with all its might, so that he lost consciousness and left. Dad brought the fighter to his senses, gave him tea and sent him off to God.
Since then, no one has approached Bata with such questions.
Story 2 (About the Air Force Commander-in-Chief)
Story 3 (About Pushkin)
Mid to late 80's. Yakutia. My dad commanded a company of fighters to provide aircraft, I don’t know what they provided, sorry. My dad is walking through the barracks and hears one of the soldiers swearing very loudly. Well, my father made a remark to him:
- You wouldn’t swear, but you might as well read Pushkin. I give you two weeks - you will read poetry to me. And left.
Two weeks pass, (my dad has already forgotten about this incident) a fighter comes up and says:
- Comrade captain, I came to you to read Pushkin. And off we go...
My dad was surprised, to put it mildly. But he listened and praised the soldier for the right course of development.
“Comrade captain, I’ll read you some more from Lermontov, in a week.”
Well, you read it, you read it. Another two weeks pass, by the way, my dad kept an eye on the fighters, and he knew his soldiers not only by last name but also by name, and looked after their health, the fighters also loved, feared and respected my dad, and dad notices that something is wrong with the soldier - that's not it. Well, he sent him to the hospital for examination. They say there:
- There’s something wrong with my head, we can’t understand it, we need to send it to Krasnoyarsk.
No sooner said than done, my father, another officer and a soldier are flying. During the time spent in the hospital, the fighter gained ten kilos, and during the flight he credited his rations, his father and the officer. It's not a pity, it's not far to fly.
We arrived, arrived at the commandant’s office, and settled down. An hour later the ambulance arrives. Two orderlies come out - approximately like Valuev, and the aunt paramedic is like Natalya Krachkovskaya in size. They slowly approach the peacefully sleeping soldier and swaddle him in a straitjacket, simultaneously rolling in a heavy dose of sedative.
The father and the officer are shocked.
- Why are you doing this?
“If he had run, we wouldn’t have caught up with him in the ambulance, and you were lucky that he behaved calmly, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to cope with him even with ten men.”
The fighter was taken away. Then it turned out that he had some kind of complex form of schizophrenia, I guy could really hurt himself and those around him.
The fighter spent some time in the hospital, was cured and then discharged.
Story 4 (About soda)
Early 80s. Mongolia. When my father served in Mongolia, they had a closed garrison with four houses where the officers lived, and naturally everyone knew each other. And Dad had a married friend who lived on the floor above.
A friend’s wife and children flew to the mainland, but he was itching. He brought a local Mongolian girl to his place to have sex. But she smelled terrible, they smear themselves with lamb fat so as not to wash, they rolled it up into pellets and it was good. Water is scarce in the steppe. Well, how do you climb on one?
He decided to wash her in the bathroom, everything is romantic. And I couldn’t think of anything better than pouring caustic soda into this bath...
The effect was on the entire garrison! A wild scream and a naked Mongolian woman with red skin like a Soviet flag running down the street...
Well, this friend’s wife was naturally informed about the adventures of her Alphonse, for which he received a lyulei for a week. Well, then they seemed to make up.
Story 5 (About me)
I was born on May 26, 1984 in the glorious city of Yakutsk. The entire garrison walked, from lieutenants to colonels, and washed their hooves for a week. Times were calm in terms of living in the Soviet Union, and doors were rarely closed.
Well, there was a whole bath of vodka, floating in cold water.
Dad, we're getting older.
Well, one major came, freely entered the house and drank this unfortunate vodka. And fell asleep in the bathroom. Accordingly, this comrade did not show up for evening duty... And he blamed Father for everything...
My father was summoned to the court of honor and asked how he allowed the senior officer to not go on night duty. To which my father replied:
- How do you think I should prohibit a senior in rank?
Of course, he received a reprimand, but he didn’t lose face...
Story 6 (About the plane hijacking)
Mid 80's. Yakutia. I was born, my father received a senior position and moved to the USSR Air Traffic Control, this is an office to which all aircraft were subordinate.
My father was on duty that ill-fated day. The situation is tense, recently a Boeing crashed with the Koreans... In short, everything is tense.
Civil aviation pilots have a panic button under their feet, and if the plane is hijacked, it is easy to press. Accordingly, when you press the button, there is a request from the ground for the height; if the height is not correct, they say it means capture. Anxiety, planes in the sky, etc., etc....
A civilian aircraft is traveling from Yakutsk to Moscow at an altitude of 10 thousand meters. The panic button goes off, and accordingly the whole group is in suspense.
The father, as the senior officer, will request the height:
- Board such and such, report the altitude!
- Such and such a board is ten thousand meters!
- Board such and such, report the altitude!
Pause…
- Oh, fuck you in the mouth... - And still in the same spirit...
Everything worked out.
Story 7 (About IL-76)
Mid 80's. Yakutia.
Winter. Frosts below -70. Boarding for refueling and maintenance. He flew from Vladivostok to Moscow, the cool pilots landed. They don't like money, so they decided to spend a week in Yakutsk away from their wives, hang out in taverns, try out local girls... Well, you understand.
Well, the father met with them and said:
- Guys, fly away, it won’t be long before the fogs, it’s winter, you can get stuck for a month.
Well, they accordingly did not listen.
We walked for a week and then the fogs descended. Visibility is zero, no one allows departure, we decided to sit out.
A month has passed... The fogs do not go away... The money has run out... They live in the barracks with the soldiers... The guys got caught.
And then it’s a clear day, they quickly take off. God bless them! We took off!!!
Right now! The chassis fails, the hydraulics froze in the cold, the pipes broke, in short, comrades. You can't fly. Sit back down...
In short, the poor fellows sat and waited for another two weeks until spare parts were brought from Moscow on another plane. We admired the clear sky. Then, as my dad said, when they repaired the IL-76, I never saw such a quick takeoff.
I hope I didn’t disappoint you and gave you a few smiles this weekend. Maybe someone recognizes himself or served under him?
On June 11, my father passed away, but these stories will live in me, and I will proudly tell them to my daughters and grandchildren when they grow up. I am proud to be the son of a Soviet Officer.
I spent the best years of my life working as a pilot while serving in Long-Range Aviation. 32 years in continuous connection with the sky. And the thought of wanting or not wanting to go on a flight never arose. For me, as for many boys of that time whose dream of flying came true, the disease was not just contagious, but became chronic and clearly incurable.
If you ask me when I got sick with palate, I won’t be able to answer unequivocally. Most likely, this did not happen suddenly, but as an accumulation: a chain of events, imprinted in my subconscious, gave me the final decision - I WILL BE A PILOT!
Just shortly before the war, I also intended to study at school, which I announced to my older brother Ivan (he is 7 years older than me, he was my support and protection). This decision of mine was unexpected for him and clearly puzzled him, especially since he was in a hurry to get to school. His calm and reasonable interpretation that I was still too young for school, that I needed to grow up, was unconvincing for me, because I would go with him and sit at the same desk with him.
For the first time, he agreed to show me the school. He and I reached the pasture, from here I was supposed to look at it, but not cross the road. Otherwise, the director, Uncle Suprun, will catch me and drive me away anyway, he really doesn’t like harmful and disobedient people. At the age of four I already had some idea about naughty people, but about harmful ones... I was puzzled and agreed with everything. I looked at the school for a long time. She seemed huge and mysterious to me. Sighing, he returned home. But now I could go out into the pasture myself and watch as much as I wanted.
One day, Ivan came home from school and enthusiastically told how his son flew to visit the principal on a real plane and sat down in the pasture right next to the school, and everyone ran to the plane, looked at it, even touched it with their hands. I was upset to the point of tears - how did I miss it so much?
Soon the war came. Now that I had seen enough of the planes, I could recognize them not only by their appearance, but also by the sound of their engines running. I knew whether it was our red-star defender flying or whether it was a fascist vulture with black crosses. And the battles for my native village of Taranovka were fierce - both air and ground. 25 soldiers from Lieutenant Shironin’s platoon, who defended the crossing in the south of the village on March 2, 1943 until reinforcements arrived, were awarded the highest award of the Motherland - Hero of the Soviet Union (19 of them posthumously).
The village was captured by the Nazis several times and they were driven out. But ours still left. At the same time, they stole all the livestock, including our wet nurse, the cow Zirka (Star), so that the enemy would not get it. The house burned down. There was a strong battle going on, there was simply no one to put out the fire. We managed to save only some documents and some dishes. Everyone hid in the cellar next to the ashes. And the Nazis staged a raid. The two approached the cellar and threw a gas grenade into it. Everyone began to choke. My father grabbed me under the arms, threw me out of the cellar and began to get out with difficulty himself, since he suffered from rheumatism. I lay on my back and coughed, I felt very nauseous. And a few meters away two fascists with machine guns stood calmly, and as soon as my father got out, a shot rang out. The father fell and never got up again. I immediately realized that they had shot me. I waited - now they will shoot everyone. Brother Ivan emerged from the cellar, followed by his mother, then other relatives. The Nazis stood and watched. Suddenly they calmly turned around and went to the neighboring house.
For a long time, the grannies fed me some kind of drugs. I decided that when I grew up, I would definitely be a scout, I would definitely find the killers and avenge my father.
As soon as the Nazis were driven out, Soviet power was restored. The cow was immediately returned to us, albeit a different one. But we still called her Zirka. It’s hard to even imagine what it would be like for us without her. Luckily for us, the barn was preserved. My brother and I divided it in half with a partition made of improvised material, coated with clay and straw, put Zirka in one half, and ourselves in the other. Mother and brother went to work on a collective farm.
And I went to first grade. I walked until it started to freeze. I didn't have shoes. Dropped out of school. I was waiting for summer. And over the whole summer I myself earned 75 rubles, my mother bought me boots to grow into, so I was provided for all 4 grades of primary school. And my pants were gorgeous. A local milliner sewed them for me from German cloth mittens, which my brother borrowed from our neighbor’s guests when they suddenly got ready to go home in such a hurry. They had no time for mittens.
I went to elementary school, which was located on the edge of Taranovka, a kilometer and a half from home. The school, which was headed by the father of the famous pilot Suprun, and where I so dreamed of studying, was completely destroyed. Down to the very foundation.
During all my years in elementary school, I used up two student notebooks and one textbook, “Ridna Mova” (“Native Speech”), for which my mother had to shell out 125 rubles at the market. And they wrote - whoever did what and on whatever. Only in the fourth grade did they begin to acquire fountain pens and learn to make ink from elderberries. My brother was especially successful in this matter and provided not only for me, but also for my friends.
In the fifth grade I went to secondary school in the center of the village, past the destroyed elementary school. And this is more than two kilometers. We always walked along the railroad bridge in a crowd because it was always dry there. But they walked with caution so as not to be hit by a train.
Here, somehow by itself, we formed our own team: me, Nikolai Garbuz and Ivan Tereshchenko. And what’s interesting is that everyone has their own favorite activity, but their views are common. We never wandered around other people's gardens, we never started fights, but we could always stand up for ourselves. There was plenty of free time. I played in a string orchestra and was involved in amateur performances, Ivan Tereshchenko painted beautifully, especially with watercolors, and Nikolai Garbuz was always making something. Nikolai's older brother and his family lived in Kharkov, just two hours away by commuter train (18 stops), and Nikolai often visited him. So one day he brought the drawings of the glider and a set of necessary parts and materials. After classes, if there was no housework involved, we hurried to assemble the glider. They assembled it, and, quite successfully, tested it - it flies.
They decided to entrust the flight to the lead pilot Nikolai. A long thread was tied to the point indicated on the drawing, and Nikolai began to tow. The glider obediently separated from the ground and began to gain altitude. The delight was indescribable. Our pilot got so carried away and set such thrust that the glider quickly used up the not-so-long thread, and Nikolai found himself in time on the edge of a ravine. He stopped for a moment and ran along the cliff. The glider clearly did not understand the pilot's intent. As if he had stumbled upon something, he hung for a moment, fell on the left wing, sharply lowered his nose and rushed to the ground after Nikolai. He was already picking up speed, he was already coming out of the descent, but he didn’t have time. Planet Earth greeted him so unfriendly that when we ran up, we realized from the wreckage that we would not be able to repair the glider.
Once at school, in the hallway, posters appeared on the walls depicting our planes: bombers over Berlin, fighters in air combat, and others. After class, the three of us looked at it carefully and discussed it for a long time. We thought about it. Soon, the same Nikolai, after another visit to his brother, brought the conditions for admission to the Kharkov Air Force Secondary Special School. And now our decision is clear and undeniable: we will go to a special school. But sixth and seventh grades still had to be completed. It seemed like time stood still. We still didn’t really know what kind of school it was, but since it was special, it would be more difficult to study there. And that’s exactly what we started from.
Quite often on weekends, especially in the summer, we recruited a team of like-minded people from our class and went to work on the collective farm. We did not claim any payment. This was our help to the farm. We worked where we were sent. Most often, they mowed, dried and baled hay by hand, carried oxen and dried grain on a threshing floor. And we were spoiled quite often: either our team was allocated a huge watermelon straight from the melon tree, or a whole circle of makukha. The collective farm had its own oil mill; they sowed a huge field of sunflowers and extracted their own sunflower oil. This smell of roasted seeds and fresh sunflower oil is still unforgettable to this day.
We did not disclose our intention to enter a special school to anyone in order to avoid misunderstandings. Everything became clear when we graduated from seventh grade and began collecting documents. The teachers discouraged me, advised me to finish 10th grade and then study further. But I set a goal for myself and decided to achieve it. Besides, I didn’t know what would happen in three years, where and how I could study to become a pilot, besides, the three of us decided to enroll, I couldn’t let my friends down. Yes, and it was hard for the mother to feed the extra mouth.
And then one fine day, at the appointed time, the three of us arrived at the special school. Oh, and there turned out to be a lot of us who wanted to! It was here that I first learned what a competition was. First of all, my friends were eliminated: Ivan Tereshchenko - an ophthalmologist, Nikolai Garbuz - a surgeon. They returned to school and after graduation, Ivan entered and graduated from the Kharkov Aviation Institute, and Nikolai graduated from the flying club and the Voroshilovgrad Aviation School.
I passed the medical examination. There were exams in Russian, but I studied at a Ukrainian school. I had my doubts. But everything worked out: the dictation was “excellent”, the solution to the problem was “excellent”, but for the explanation of the solution the grade was reduced. Okay. I was enrolled. He was immediately appointed assistant commander of the 5th platoon with the military rank of “sergeant”.
We were given uniforms (real military uniforms with shoulder straps) and were given an allowance (three excellent meals a day). All newcomers were accommodated in a dormitory, and in the second and subsequent years they rented apartments for us in the city. Our teachers were masters of their craft. And, despite the fact that during my studies I missed 300 hours of classes due to illness, I had only 5 “B’s” in my certificate, the rest were “A’s”.
Our graduation in 1955 was the last: special schools were closed.
Before being assigned to schools, I was asked which one I would like to study at. I said without a doubt - in the fighter class. So they recommended that I write a report to the Balashov Fighter School. That's what I wrote. And I was not alone: many who went to the Balashov Flight School went specifically to the Fighter School. And only when approaching Balashov, in a conversation with one of the passengers, we found out that night bombers were stationed there. Naturally - surprise and disappointment. But there was no turning back, and no choice either. They soon realized that this was even for the better. I still don't regret it. This insignificant misunderstanding allowed me to subsequently travel all over Yakutia, see the country from the Baltic states to Vladivostok and from Crimea to Novaya Zemlya.
At the school we only passed the medical and credentials commissions. Graduates of special schools were fully prepared for military service. I immediately continued my classes in the gymnastics section.
After studying theoretical disciplines, flight training took place on a Yak-18 aircraft at the 217 km airfield with an instructor, Captain Viktor Petrovich Akimov.
The second course took place in Rtishchevo - both theory and flight training. Flights on a Li-2 aircraft with an instructor, Captain Konstantin Mikheevich Pavlov. Neither theoretical nor flight training caused me any difficulties. I graduated from the school in the first category, and I was sent to a special group of Long-Range Aviation for an internship in the Yakutsk separate air group, air squadron, Yakutsk. All graduates born in 1935 and older were immediately fired and assigned to Aeroflot.
Five of us were sent to Yakutsk: me, Ilya Fetisov (it was out of solidarity with him that I left nowhere), Lenya Soroka, Boris Karamzin and Anatoly Malykhin. After taking a vacation in my native Taranovka, I set off for an internship in a completely unknown land. Five days later I was already in Krasnoyarsk, where our group gathered, except for Malykhin and Soroka. Next we had to fly by plane.
The passengers flying with us looked at us with curiosity as if there was some kind of misunderstanding, but they didn’t ask us any questions, they just whispered quietly. And we only realized on the spot what was going on. Meanwhile, the IL-14 faithfully drove us to Yakutsk. After landing and stopping the engines, the flight engineer opened the door, and a snow cloud burst into it like an explosion.
The passengers calmly and thoroughly prepared to leave. What should we prepare for? We took our suitcases and were ready. We went down the ladder, and everything immediately became clear. Below we were met
It’s not clear what, but we still guessed, since it was something with a gentle female voice and a red bandage on its left arm, but neither its face nor its eyes were visible. Apparently, she had so many questions about our appearance that they were all immediately confused and the only thing she managed to either ask or express surprise was: “Guys, where are you going?” “We’re here for an internship,” Boris Karamzin explained clearly and intelligibly, because there was no time to talk.
Indeed, the picture was creepy. On the one hand - Yakutsk, December, local time 23.00, fog and frost 45 degrees; on the other hand, we are wearing hats, ears up (Boris Karamzin is wearing a cap), overcoats, breeches, chrome boots with thin leather soles and summer socks. What saved us was that the plane taxied right to the entrance to the airport terminal. But still, in the next minute my heels froze to my heels, it was difficult to breathe. The attendant pointed to a light bulb dimly shining through the fog and ordered us to run to the airport terminal. There was our salvation.
It turned out to be only a few dozen steps to run. We burst through the door together, accompanied by a cloud. The first is Karamzin. He immediately fell at our feet, since the floor was tiled and the soles were leather. We found ourselves right in the waiting room, crowded with passengers who, at first, were simply shocked by our appearance, then a timid tentative laugh, picked up by roaring laughter. He was so good-natured that we joined in too. Then we were escorted to a restaurant in the same building, where we undressed, had dinner, and warmed up. With the help of the same duty officer, we moved to the other side of the station square to a dispensary for flight personnel.
And two days later it warmed up to -30 degrees. We found the detachment headquarters, where we met the same trainees, already experienced in these matters. They explained a lot to us: how to get to the city, where to rent an apartment, and most importantly, we should get flight uniforms in Irkutsk, at the aviation school (2500 kilometers from Yakutsk).
As soon as the housing issue was resolved, we decided, with the help of the landlady and neighbors, to dress Karamzin up, give him our clothing certificates and send him to Irkutsk. And on the fourth day he brought not what we needed, but what was given to him. I received size 46 high boots. I grieved only until the first time I went outside. I gained experience right away: I put on flannelette underwear, my lieutenant trousers for graduation and a shirt with a tie, a woolen sweater, a jacket with shoulder straps, woolen socks and boots, and on top - a fur uniform and high boots. He covered his nose and ears with the collar of his sweater, put on a military hat with a cockade, and turned up the collar of his fur jacket. In such uniforms there was only a narrow gap for viewing.
I started flying without a hitch. Looking from the outside and judging by the names, the crew was international: the ship’s commander is Viktor Rakino, the right pilot (aka navigator) is Mikhail Palval, the radio operator is Boris Tsulin, the flight mechanic is Vladimir Medvedev. In this composition we examined the whole of Yakutia at all altitudes and in all directions. There was an airfield as such only in Yakutsk; all the rest were landing sites. But they were still respectfully called airports. They had communications facilities, runway markings, aircraft refueling and maintenance, crew rest areas, and basic hotels for passengers. Some were equipped with drive radios. As a rule, the head of the airport is also a dispatcher, flight director, and cashier.
They flew mainly outside the flight, serving the Amakinskaya geological exploration expedition, the management of which was located in Nyurba. At all airports, during the rest, we were plagued by midges, mosquitoes, and at night, also by bedbugs. There was no control over them. They were starved, they were poisoned, all the beds were covered with gauze curtains, everything was useless. The rubbing was very effective, which was supplied to geologists without restriction, and they considered it an honor to provide it to us. And in general, at that time in Yakutia, everyone who was in flight uniform was simply deified, especially prisoners. In general, it was unacceptable to allow anything offensive towards the pilot. And this obliged me to do a lot, and, above all, to constantly see myself from the outside.
By August 1958 the internship was completed. I was sent to Ivanovo for a course for ship commanders, where they deepened theoretical training (especially in aircraft navigation and meteorology) and received daytime flight training. And on December 23, everyone who had not yet been there was sent on leave straight from classes. When I returned in early February 1959, the regiment in Ivanovo had already been disbanded. I was sent to Ryazhsk. The Separate Squadron of the Ryazan Center for Combat Training and Retraining of Flight Personnel was located there, where he completed the night program with instructor Captain Kagdin. Here I met my future combat companion Alexandra, who later gave me two beautiful sons, for which I owe her my whole life and always forgave the occasional everyday complaints that, as a rule, did not depend on me. I probably knew that I would return to Yakutsk again for at least a year. It was extremely unwise to take her with us. She worked in Ryazan. I said that if in a year she waits for me, then we will never part again. And so it happened. For more than forty-seven years we have been inseparable.
In August 1959, he returned to Yakutsk for an internship as a ship commander. Here things were much simpler. First of all, Ilya Fetisov and I were included in a brigade of 11 people and sent to an island 240 kilometers north of Yakutsk to harvest hay for the local collective farm. They landed us on the island by boat, left us a bag of potatoes, two round loaves of locally baked bread and 3 kg of beef and sailed away. We were left alone on a huge island. There was no time to waste: evening was approaching, we had to get settled. We examined the island, found out where what bushes were, what kind of grass, and chose the highest point for housing. At a short council, forces were distributed. They assigned a cook to cook dinner, a fireman to help him build and maintain a fire, and everyone else went to the construction site. By sunset everything was ready: a hut for 11 people made of branches covered with grass, a common bed made of a thick layer of grass on the floor, and dinner.
And so, for each day, a cook and a fireman were assigned in turn, whose duties included taking care of food, that is, catching fish, because the meat was eaten in the first two days, there was nowhere to store it. Once a week, an aborigine crossed to us by boat and brought the same two loaves of bread strung on the handlebars and a small piece of meat in a bag on the back trunk on a bicycle. And rolled back. After three weeks of work, four bullies from the collective farm arrived to help us, along with an ox, a drag and a boy for stacking hay. The most powerful of them had a hunting rifle, and he wore it in front, hanging it around his neck, since the length of the gun exceeded his height. But he did not part with it; apparently, it was his pride; he allowed us to hold it in our hands with dignity. For another week we mowed, dried and stacked hay, while the Yakuts pulled down the shocks and stacked them. Then a messenger arrived and conveyed to us the greatest gratitude of their chairman for our work and the order for its completion.
We returned a month later and started flying. There were no problems with the raid. Two flights of the aircraft for repairs to Moscow (Bykovo) and a flight from Bykovo gave me 75 hours and a wealth of flying practice.
After 120 hours of flight time, the detachment command considered my internship completed, and they offered me to remain in the detachment, guaranteeing the crew and the aircraft. I agreed. While we were completing the paperwork, I decided to use my vacation. A week later I was already in my native Taranovka. But I was overtaken by a telegram with an order: to be sent to Ryazan by April 30. And I celebrated May 1, 1960 in Ryazan.
By August 1960, he underwent theoretical retraining on the Tu-16 aircraft and was sent to the headquarters of the air division, Tartu, to the position of right pilot. I arrived in the evening with my young wife and two suitcases. None of the townspeople knew where the military unit was located, and perhaps did not want to know. But they explained how to get to the hotel, where there was not a single free place. We had a room reserved, we had to wait until 23:00 and if it wasn’t available, then they would give it to us. And we were lucky. We spent the first night in comfortable conditions. The next morning I found the division headquarters and received an assignment to the local air regiment, as well as a detailed explanation of how to get there.
And we got there. At the headquarters they processed me, I introduced myself to the leadership of 132 tbap 326 tbad. I was advised first of all to find an apartment in the city. That day I didn’t succeed and had to resort to the help of the unit on duty, who organized two soldiers’ mattresses with blankets and two sets of bedding with pillows. We spent the night in the classroom in the aisle between the tables. And the next day they rented a room not far from the entrance. A month later I was given an “apartment” in a one-story Finnish house designed for two families. So I settled in one of the entrances. In it, a large room of 18 square meters was occupied by a conscript with his wife and a very small daughter, a smaller room of 12 meters was occupied by a childless family from an aircraft factory, and a third room of 9 square meters was given to me. Three years later, when my son was one year old, I moved into a large room next door; the other two were occupied by a senior aircraft technician with his wife and daughter.
Immediately upon arrival at the unit, I passed the tests and started flying. Major Sukhanov volunteered to carry out a familiarization flight to the zone with me (flying the aircraft after repairs at the aircraft factory). After retraining in Ryazan, I did not even complete a familiarization flight. Therefore, on the day of preliminary preparation, I sat for a long time at my workplace in the airplane cockpit, growing into it psychologically, thinking through possible tricks. Immediately after takeoff, as soon as I retracted the landing gear and flaps at the command of the commander, he handed over control to me and closely watched my actions. But he soon calmed down. I took control before releasing the landing gear. After the flight, out of cadet habit, I turned to him for comments. “Fine” - and no comments.
My commander, Captain Grigoriev, was also recently appointed to the post of commander of the Tu-16 aircraft from the Il-28 aircraft, a 2nd class pilot, a humorous, strong man, somewhat shorter than me, energetic, but not hasty. So issues of psychological compatibility and mutual understanding never arose for us during the next two years of working as part of the crew.
Within a month I was elected deputy secretary of the squadron’s Komsomol organization, the secretary being Viktor Gorelkin, who also trained in the Yakut aviation squadron, but mastered the Tu-16 a year earlier. And two or three months later he left for Ryazan for a course for ship commanders. I automatically became secretary.
At the beginning of 1961, the entire regiment was relocated to the Tol-machevo airfield, from where it simulated a “blue” raid on Ural targets. My flight time on the Tu-16 was already 60 hours, mostly at night. The flight was also supposed to take place at night in radio silence, with the engines starting at the signal of two green rockets. For more than two hours the regiment waited for the signal in readiness No. 1. The crew fell asleep at their work stations. We woke up to the noise of taxiing planes. The commander gave the command to start the engines. After checking all the systems, it remained to decide where we were and who to taxi behind. Some crew stopped before reaching us. The commander gave the signal to taxi out, and we entered the battle formation, but it is not yet known who is behind us.
Ahead, the crew taxied onto the runway and took off. The navigator noted the time, we taxied, and three minutes later the commander released the brakes and began the takeoff run. The plane rushed into the night and quickly picked up speed. A few seconds later, a metallic knock was heard, and the plane began to smoothly move to the left. The commander did not react. Just for a moment I glanced at him and saw him far behind. A frost ran down my back. The commander rolled away! I started to bring the plane to the center line with the right brake and heard: “Misha, take off” - “I’m taking off.” And it’s so clear that there’s nothing else left for me. The navigator gave a speed reading. According to the takeoff method of that time, it was time to create a takeoff angle and continue the takeoff until the plane took off. But for me, who had never taken off at night with full take-off weight, this was extremely dangerous. I smoothly began to unload the front wheel and, when it separated, I locked the steering wheel. He monitored the runway lights to ensure that the plane did not increase the angle, and when the takeoff speed was reached, he separated the plane by briefly taking the control wheel. I immediately focused my attention on the instruments. The main thing is the absence of rolls and climb. The navigator continued counting the speed. This helped me a lot. While I was piloting, the commander removed the headlights, removed the landing gear and flaps, and set the engines to climb mode. At two hundred meters he commanded the operator to push his seat into place; he untied himself and dashingly slammed him all the way forward.
We reached the assigned level. The trail of the plane was shaggy ahead. The commander took control and increased speed. We started to catch up with the one in front and, as soon as we saw his tail number, we started to fall behind in order to get into place: the leader was in front of us. After a tactical strike from a low altitude, we set a course for Tolmachevo, but on the approach to the airfield, due to a thunderstorm situation, the entire regiment was sent to land at a dirt airfield in Kazakhstan without descending. After taxiing, the crew gathered at the plane, the commander told how, in order to get more comfortable on the seat, he moved it back one space, but did not return it to its original position before launch. On takeoff, as soon as the plane began to take evasive action, it did not have enough legs to apply the brake. He decided to pull up the seat, removed it from the stop... and rolled back all the way. The crew did not spread this incident anywhere, but the commander secretly told the detachment commander, Major Sukhanov, who after that looked at me with completely different eyes. A year later I was transferred to the crew of the deputy regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Popov.
In December 1964, with great difficulty and with the help of the deputy regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Popov, he made his way to Ryazan for a course for ship commanders, after which he was appointed to a position in the 477th separate radio regiment, Mirgorod. And then I was presented with a fact: they say, the regiment is constantly solving complex problems, and besides, there are constant orders, so choose - either the academy or the Tu-22. I preferred the academy. Therefore, they planned me for each flight shift to the maximum. At the same time I was preparing for exams. And I managed to get the second grade and prepare for the entrance exams. In 1966 he was enrolled in the Air Force Command Academy.
In 1970, I, an academy graduate, was appointed to the position of deputy squadron commander in the 219th separate reconnaissance regiment, Spassk-Dalniy. And, after taking a vacation, I and my whole family (my wife, seven-year-old eldest son and one-and-a-half-month-old youngest son) set off to continue exploring the Far East. The fact that I trained there for three years on a Li-2 aircraft did not count. I decided to fly to Khabarovsk by plane, and then by train. We landed late at night with all the subsequent problems of how to get to the garrison.
I was assigned to the squadron, whose commander, Lieutenant Colonel Beshenov, had recently headed the duty detachment in Anadyr. And from the first days I had to perform the duties of a commander. When the commander returned three months later, the squadron's combat training continued as planned. At the insistence of the deputy regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Kirilets, and the squadron commander himself, Lieutenant Colonel Beshenov, they sent me an application for the position of squadron commander.
And four months later he took over the squadron in Vozdvizhenka. And here I first got a separate two-room apartment, albeit with a walk-through room and a shared bathroom. But this was already an apartment, not a closet.
When he arrived in Vozdvizhenka, the regiment commander was in charge of the flights. I called him and reported his arrival. He ordered me to come to the “tower”, where he joyfully greeted me. It was Evgeny Biryukov. He graduated from the academy two years earlier than me, was assigned to Mirgorod and learned a lot from me about the regiment, conditions of service, and about the famous city. And that's where we met him. He also only recently took over the regiment.
There was only one crew in the air, and I did not distract him from directing the flights. I just asked why there were so many people here. It turned out that the regiment took off on the route. In the crew of the detachment commander, Major Grebenyuk, the front cabin was not pressurized during the climb. The ship's commander gave the command to the navigator-operator (Lieutenant Onoshko, called up under a two-year contract from the civil institute) to check the position of the switch on the automatic pressure regulator, which is located in the front cabin in such a place that it can only be seen from under the operator's seat . Tom, naturally, had to unfasten his seat belts, disconnect the oxygen hose, and crawl under the seat. Onoshko decided to move the switch, but it was locked. Then he started hitting it with a pistol. But he quickly lost consciousness because the crew continued to climb in an unsealed cabin. The ship's commander turned around and saw the motionless operator, reported to the commander, and he gave the command to immediately descend with a turn to the point. At an altitude below 4000 meters, the operator came to his senses, took his workplace, and the crew had to generate fuel for several hours before landing.
Zhenya Biryukov, who is optimistic by nature and not without humor, made such a comment on this matter that even now, in conditions of freedom of speech, I will not repeat - for ethical reasons. I nodded in agreement, adding that if Onoshko had imagined the design and operating principle of the pressure regulator, he would not have tried to fix the problem with a pistol, but first of all would have checked whether the pressurized hatch of the front technical compartment was closed.
A year later, in the same regiment, I was appointed deputy regiment commander instead of my college colleague Boris Konstantinov, who had left for Ukrainka to become regiment commander. The primary task was to improve the training base. At that time, the regimental headquarters was located at the airfield in a two-story house that was in disrepair: sagging floors, shaky, swinging stairs, crumbling walls. We achieved the transfer of the headquarters to one of the barracks in the town and occupied the first floor, where they equipped a task setting class, also known as a flight preparation class, also known as a flight debriefing class. For each flight mission, they developed a diagram “Methodology for performing flight mission No...” and equipped a storage facility for the diagrams. These diagrams were the main visual aid for setting tasks, training crews and debriefing flights.
The regiment began preparing for the most important aviation exercise with a full flight to the Priluki airfield and carrying out practical bombing at all air ranges flown over. And soon the task came directly to the exercise. From Priluki, instead of the exhausted aircraft, they ferried another one, which, before taking off for the exercises, they only managed to fly around and perform several flights in a circle. In the regiment, each crew was assigned a regular vehicle by order, and crew coordination was ensured. I didn’t have one, and for the exercise I got the newly arrived plane.
The regiment followed in two groups: the first was led by the regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Vladimir Basistov, the second by me. Senior aircraft technicians were included in the flight crews. Structurally, an additional work place was equipped, provided with an oxygen device, internal communication and the possibility of using a rescue parachute in case of abandoning the aircraft. We conducted training exercises, except, of course, for leaving the plane (this was theoretically practiced at the workplace). The technician was flying on a combat aircraft for the first time and was noticeably nervous before and after takeoff, but soon, seeing how calmly the crew was working, he calmed down.
The regiment made its second landing in Semipalatinsk, and it was good that it was during the day. The weather conditions during the landing were really difficult: cloud cover with a lower edge of 150 meters and a drift to the right of 10 degrees, and from a height of 100 meters the drift sharply decreased to 5. There was some feeling of excitement for the young crews, but everyone coped with it, everyone landed on the first approach , because the most experienced flight control group was headed by an equally experienced leader, division commander, Major General Dmitriev (everyone called him “dzhigit”). The next day, the regiment also took off during the day, but the weather was even worse: with low clouds there was severe icing. There were reports of icing, and Captain Chernyshenko, who had taken off in front of me, reported in an alarming voice about the strong roll of the plane; at an altitude of 1500 meters he reported a decrease in roll. I gave the command to my group to taxi into the parking lot. We flew to Priluki the next day.
On the way back we land again in Semipalatinsk. We reached Barnaul at an altitude of 10,000 meters and began to descend. Soon, an itching sound was clearly heard. A jet of liquid was hitting the casing under high pressure. Kerosene? Oil? Hydromix? All instruments and equipment worked normally. Reported to the flight director. I understood from the voice that the group was being received by Major General Dmitriev. The crew watched. Everyone calmly went about their business, but the technician was pale. I smiled at him slightly and winked. Immediately the radio operator reported a trickle of pinkish liquid on the right blister. Hydromix! Two other questions disappeared, but two new ones arose - will there be a fire and from which system was the mixture knocked out? All that was left to do was wait.
At the height of the circle, before releasing the landing gear, I handed over control to an assistant; I decided to release the landing gear myself. As soon as the landing gear valve was released, the pressure in the main hydraulic system dropped to zero and did not increase any further. I reported this to the manager, as well as the decision to release the landing gear in an emergency. But only the right pillar came off the lock and fell out, the left and front ones remained removed. I decided to press the right strut and turned on the boost pump. The stand was released very slowly. Already on the landing line, at a distance of 8 kilometers, a shock was heard and the green light on the right pillar came on. The operator reported the output of the mechanical indicator. The right landing gear is extended and locked!
Reported to the manager. He asked to pass over the strip at an altitude of 50 meters and asked what I intended to do next. He replied that I would produce the remaining racks.
He reported to the manager about the full extension of the landing gear and his decision to land. Just in case, I told the navigator to move behind my seat and rest his back against it. On this runway, which was large for my plane, the brakes worked perfectly; I didn’t use braking parachutes and vacated the runway in the middle, where I was already met. There was only enough fuel left in the plane to go around, climb to the altitude of the circle and leave the plane.
The division commander, Major General Gryaznov, came up and congratulated us on the successful completion of the flight. And he sent a telegram notifying him of the death of the crew navigator’s mother. He immediately handed the navigator this telegram and money for travel, put him in the car and sent him to the station. So I continued the training with a different navigator, but on the same plane, which was put in order within a day.
As soon as the division commander left, his place opposite me was immediately taken by the deputy division commander, chief of the IAS, Colonel Efremov, an arrogant man in his attitude towards his subordinates and categorical in his statements. This was expressed even in his gestures, for which he was called “master” throughout the division. He expressed his extreme indignation at how I, the deputy regiment commander, chose such an aircraft for training. Of course, I exploded, but to calm myself down, I pulled my ear several times and asked in an even voice, what would have been the outcome of this flight if another crew had been in my place? I provided him with an intact plane, now figure it out. There was no answer, so they parted ways.
During takeoff at night from the Belaya airfield, the command communication transmitter failed to climb. Through the radio operator, he reported to the command post about the refusal and termination of the mission, and to the departure airfield about the return. Having received confirmation, the crew spent four hours running out of fuel, after which the radio operator requested an approach. But no matter how much he asked, no one answered. The runway lights were on, the fuel was running low, and I landed without searchlights and without permission. I taxied to the control tower and turned off the engines. No one met.
When the entire crew climbed to the tower, the entire management group was sleeping at their jobs. The time was four o'clock in the morning. He told the crew to settle down as best they could, he sat down on an empty chair next to the leader and instantly passed out. It seemed like only a moment passed and I woke up. The sun was shining brightly, and next to me, the leader, Colonel Shvetsov, looked at me with an uncomprehending look, with the prints of his hat on his right cheek. He could only ask: “Where are you from?” “Fell from the sky,” I answered.
In the midst of the rejuvenation of military personnel, at 34 years old, I found myself old. I was offered the position of senior combat training inspector of the air corps, Irkutsk, where I went in June 1974.
I must say that I clearly did not like the inspection work. Perhaps I never understood its essence. It was considered traditional for me, as a representative of the combat training department of the air corps, to be included in the commissions of other departments, for all scheduled and unscheduled inspections, exercises, and for flights in units as an instructor; twice headed training camps to prepare crews for flights in minimal weather. Every year, up to 250 days of travel allowance and no more than 70 hours of flight time (mainly as an instructor) were guaranteed. Reports on the work done, deficiencies discovered and corrected, which should be noted at the next visit, were not given much importance.
And I began to make my way to Ryazan. At the end of 1978, he was appointed as a teacher of aerodynamics at 43 pulp and paper production plants and PLS, and quite by accident. I struggled for four years. According to the principles of that time, one had to serve in the Far East for 18 calendar years, and only after that one could apply for a transfer to the “mainland”. Neither my 11 years of service in the East, nor my desire to leave my position, even with a demotion, were taken into account. Mister chance helped: the deputy commander of the training squadron, Major Alenichev, due to family circumstances, urgently needed to leave Ryazan. This circumstance was used by the deputy corps commander, Major General Tolstukhin (to whom I once outlined my situation in a conversation) to solve my problem. For which I am more than grateful to him.
In 1980, a research department was created at the Center, where I was appointed deputy head. The head of the department, Lieutenant Colonel Blokhin, was appointed later, and when he arrived three months later, work in the department was already running as usual. And soon this department was divided into two: research into the combat use of strategic and combat use of long-range aviation. I accepted the second department. He mastered the Tu-22M aircraft and retrained the head of the political department, Colonel Singaevsky, to use it. In June 1986, he launched a rocket, and in October, at the height of perestroika, after landing on the zebra, he left for TsNIAG and retired from flight work. A year later, in 1987, at the age of 51, he was transferred to the reserve due to age.
I work as a tour guide at the Long Range Aviation Museum. This is truly blessed and rewarding work. Until recently, it was necessary to work in conditions of absolute lack of funding, but the museum workers not only preserved it, but also improved it.
1985. At that time I served in one of the units of the Soviet Army Air Force. The regiment commander at that time was Colonel E.A. Varyukhin. Knight of the Orders of the “Red Banner of Battle” and “Red Star”. For us, this was a commander with unquestionable authority. On one of the regular flight days, a debriefing took place, after which the regiment commander ordered me to stay. This immediately puzzled me. After the unambiguous glances of my comrades, I already understood what the conversation would be about. And really not many words were said. I quote the verbatim words of the regiment commander: “Your turn has come, if you refuse, you will lose everything. If you return alive, you will get everything you are owed. Don't worry about your family. You will receive the apartment tomorrow. You will form the crew yourself.” From that moment on, another life began to count down. And, which is typical, everyone knew perfectly well that flying in Afghanistan is not a trip to the dispensary, not simple landings at training sites, but this is the fulfillment of the Government’s assignment. My preparation for this Government trip was personally handled by the regiment commander. I can only say that not only government funds were spent on preparations, but also moral strength. Just hovering at an altitude of 4000 meters, to me personally, seemed to be the limit of the capabilities of not only aircraft, but also human strength. But all this was not done in vain. After training at training centers in Uzbekistan, we were sent to a separate air squadron stationed at the Bagram airfield. My co-pilot, and the position of “pilot-navigator” was Lieutenant I.N. Lavitsky. At that time he had just graduated from the Syzran Higher Military Pilot School. Onboard technician Lieutenant A.V. Marchenko, head of the onboard communications center Art. Lieutenant Golubev A.S., on-board radio operators warrant officers Baev I.V. and Maksimov V.A. Preparation for such a business trip was an accelerated program. No expense was spared on personnel training at that time. Therefore, we were ready to complete all upcoming tasks. My crew became part of the 262nd separate helicopter squadron of the 108th Twice Red Banner Nevelsk Motorized Rifle Division. The squadron was a team: the crews of Mi-8 helicopters flew from the Belarusian city of Pruzhany, and the crews of Mi-24 helicopters from Torzhok. The main task of the squadron was to provide air cover for the road of “life” from the Salang pass to the capital of Afghanistan, Kabul, and to deliver ammunition, water and food to mountain posts covering the movement of automobile convoys. The combat mission for the Mi-8 transports was the very difficult task of detecting and delivering an inspection group to caravans transporting weapons and ammunition to Afghanistan. The difficulty was in selecting a landing site, because the trail passed through mountain gorges and landing was not possible everywhere. The flight commanders of the squadron being rotated began familiarization flights with helicopter commanders to those sites that would become home to us for the whole year. We had to fly in the mountains very early. Wake up at 3 o'clock, have breakfast in the flight canteen, undergo a medical examination, prepare the helicopter for flights, set tasks for the flight day and take off on the mission at dawn. The Panjshir Gorge became home to our squadron. There were two main sites in it, one Anava, on which the battalion of the 345th airborne regiment was stationed, and the second Rukha, on which the tank regiment was stationed. To cover the main areas, posts were set up on both sides of the gorge. Each post was a small area equipped for the life of several soldiers during two years of service. To deliver the necessary weapons, food, water, firewood and other property to these posts, Mi-8 Mt helicopters, affectionately called “bees,” were used. To provide cover in the air, standing in a circle above our helicopters, a flight of Mi-24 combat helicopters, as they were called “Bumblebees,” patrolled. The deputy squadron commander was Major V. Khokhryakov, who had already carried out missions in the DRA and was familiar with the tactics of helicopter aviation. With his direct training and commander's perseverance, a clear work schedule was established in the squadron. To ensure the work of the “bees”, a cover link for the “bumblebees” was allocated. One main site was provided per flight day. A pair of Mi-8 helicopters flew to the site at dawn, loaded the necessary cargo there and waited for the Mi-24 to approach. At the command of the Mi-8 commander, the flight stood in a circle above the site where the Mi-8 would land. Such cover completely excluded the possibility of the “bees” being fired upon by dushmans. Each Mi-8 served 2-3 posts during one lift. Then he returned to the main site for loading, and the second helicopter worked at the posts. This work lasted up to 10-11 hours. It was no longer possible to work in the mountains; the temperature rose and air turbulence increased, which greatly affected the controllability of the helicopter. The cover helicopters flew to the base, and the Mi-8s on the main site washed the cargo compartment and loaded with personnel flying for replacement, leave, treatment and flew to the Bagram base. Only in the Panjshir gorge did I understand what the real skill of a pilot is, and why so much effort and money was spent on preparation. However, even the aircraft designers could not have foreseen what we had to experience on our first flight. First flight. Pandsher gorge, Anava site, outpost No. 9, altitude 2900 meters above sea level. The site is located in the rock, or rather below the blown-up mountain top, so that the helicopter blades do not catch the rock; only the helicopter cabin can be placed on the site, standing on the front wheel along the edge of the front door, the rest of the cargo cabin hangs over the abyss. The distance between the blade and the rock is no more than ten centimeters, and most of the blade is above the rock. The entrance door is located above the landing. In this situation, and even with the possible shelling of the site, and this is a favorite technique of the “dushmans,” food, water, ammunition and everything necessary are delivered. Now the most important thing is to get out of this rock and, without catching the propellers on the rock, return to the main platform, load the helicopter and perform a new flight. Now imagine, if you have any imagination, what happens to the helicopter: the pilot, increasing the power of the engines, lifts the machine by a few centimeters, which is no longer possible, and flips it over on its “back” to the right with a roll and a dive angle of 60-70 degrees. You remain in this position for only a few seconds until a slight shaking occurs and the helicopter becomes controllable. But it seems like an eternity. After the first solo flight, Igor and I smoked for at least an hour, but the working conditions made us forget all the difficulties and carry out the flights. Subsequently, we became so accustomed to such work that we stopped paying attention to the heights and to the helicopter attacks, although carelessness was punishable. After returning to the airfield, there were up to a dozen bullet holes on board the helicopter. During such flights, I had to listen to the commander’s “flattering” expressions about myself during the debriefing. In one of the fighter support flights, as a search helicopter, our Mi-8 pair, consisting of the leading Mr. G.Subbota and mine, flew to provide search and rescue operations (SRP) to the combat area of fighter aircraft. As a rule, the flight takes place away from the location of the bombing attack, but in the visual visibility zone of the aircraft. According to the instructions to the helicopter crew, I had the right to transfer flight control to my assistant. It wouldn’t hurt for your assistant to practice piloting a helicopter one more time. Having given control to I. Lavitsky, I relaxed a little. The weather was excellent, and visibility was, as we say, a million on a million. Only a small cumulus cloud was not far away from us. Following the leader, the pilot-navigator stretched out the battle formation and, no matter what got into the cloud, decided to pass between the clouds. Height 6300 meters. For a helicopter, this is the maximum height. At this moment, due to turbulence, both engines failed. Due to the strong vertical descent, the hatch where the bombing sight is attached was knocked out. It hits the pilot-navigator in the face, after which he cannot help me control the helicopter, and most importantly, find a site for an emergency landing. In this emergency situation, all the professional and strong-willed qualities of the crew and knowledge of the instructions for the helicopter crew were revealed. Feeling the shaking and sudden silence, he immediately turned his gaze to the dashboard. The instrument readings were far from normal: the rotor speed dropped to 80%, the engine speed dropped to 20%. Having taken control, I sharply dropped the “step-throttle” lever down, thereby increasing the speed of the NV, while simultaneously setting the engine speed for starting in the air. Having informed the presenter about the incident, he gave the command to the flight engineer to start the autonomous AI-9 generator. The vertical descent speed was 30-35m/sec. Thanks to the high altitude and reliable aircraft, we launched the AI-9, then one engine. Having entered horizontal flight at an altitude of 300 meters, I set the engine to “afterburner” mode and set the climb at a vertical speed of 0.5 m/s. Already in this mode, we started the second engine and returned to the airfield. The descent time without engines was only 53 seconds. For such a flight, the crew was accused of violating crew instructions, because according to the instructions, the maximum altitude set by the designer was 6000 meters and we had no right to rise higher. The engines were removed from the helicopter and sent to the factory. The commission that arrived from Kabul actually charged me with almost deliberately turning off the engines and voluntarily surrendering to the “dushmans.” It was only thanks to the squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Khokhryakov, that I managed to avoid punishment. There was enough “madhouse” in Afghanistan. Remember just one order on material punishment for pilots in case of receiving unjustified holes. The pilot was supposed to be deducted from his salary for the repair of a helicopter or airplane in the event of receiving holes not during a combat mission. Such an order could only be issued by a “parquet general” who, at best, flew to Afghanistan to receive the order, and at worst, did not leave Moscow at all. But our commanders, who did not get out of their cockpits and flew along with ordinary pilots, did not pay attention to such orders. Work went on as usual. In January-February 1986, an operation took place to withdraw a tank unit from the Pandshir gorge. The tank column was blocked in the gorge. All the heights were occupied by “dushmans” and targeted fire was fired at the tanks. My crew was also assigned to support this operation. The operation was codenamed Diamond Gulch. I can only say that the place is very beautiful in terms of its natural features. But whoever was there did not enjoy the beauty, the constant lack of ammunition, shelling, dead friends with whom I could only recently talk, and now my helicopter is taking them away, brought up completely different thoughts. As a rule, all flights to the DRA were carried out only during daylight hours. The operation to exit the column began at sunrise. In conditions of mountains and high temperatures, flights are only possible early in the morning or in the evening, when the temperature drops and air turbulence decreases, otherwise you may lose control of the helicopter when approaching the site. From the very morning, groups were landed to provide cover for the exit of the column and suppression of enemy points. After the column left, we had to pick up these groups. Their identification marks were orange smoke. Almost all the sites were of such a size that only one of the three helicopter wheels could be landed on them. The minimum landing area at an altitude of 900 to 2500 meters above sea level was no more than a standard kitchen table. Which of them are ours, and which are the “dushmans”, only “ALLAH” knew. We began landing at one of these sites, illuminated by our smoke bombs. This is where my assistant showed up. The fact is that my work chair is on the left side of the cabin, and I cannot observe what is happening on the right side. At this moment we were making an approach at an altitude of about 2000 meters, and my side of the cockpit was over the abyss. At the moment of freezing, over the intercom, I heard: “commander, there are spirits here, let’s leave!” " Without even realizing what was happening, I “plunged” the helicopter into such a “dive” that I don’t want to say that a man might get a sore throat. We were covered from the air by a flight of Mi-24 helicopters. Seeing such a “pirouette,” the flight leader asked me what happened? After a short response from MI-24, this site was destroyed. We were directed to another site, but there was another surprise waiting there. During the shelling of the site, one of the soldiers hid behind a stone. In the beginning twilight, the platoon commander lost sight of him. When I landed the helicopter, the platoon flew into the cargo compartment within 10 seconds and I began to take off, and then there was a terrible scream in the cabin: “one is missing!” . I immediately released the throttle and the on-board technician opened the front door, and the platoon commander jumped onto the platform. The right pilot began counting down the time. You can stay on such sites for no more than 30 seconds; after zeroing, you will definitely be shot down. But we simply couldn’t leave our people, so after the allotted time was up we continued to sit on the site. And only 50 seconds later, the missing person was thrown on board the helicopter like a sack, and the commander jumped in after him. Dusk had already deepened and we took off. True, while we were sitting on the site, we experienced quite strong fear. After all, intense fire was coming from the opposite side of the site. Only thanks to the twilight he was not sighted. But for us it was brighter than fireworks on city day. After landing, and my helicopter was the last to land at the airfield, already at night, there was a debriefing; naturally, I received a scolding from the squadron commander for an incorrect assessment of the situation. But thanks to the vigilance of his assistant, by what miracle he saw the cannon on it and we left on time and were not shot down, I don’t know. When we sorted out our flight and assessed the situation, why we were not shot down, everything turned out to be simple, we were right above the house of the “dushmans” and only the fear that the helicopter would fall right on them did not allow them to shoot at us. Everyone wants to live! Subsequently, measures were taken to prevent our smoke signal bombs from reaching the “dushmans”. For this flight, the entire crew was awarded orders. These are just a few episodes from 555 combat missions in the DRA. Over the course of a year, I had to take part in 5 large operations to destroy gang formations in various regions of Afghanistan. I flew 429 hours in the skies of Afghanistan. These are 4 annual norms in the peaceful skies of the USSR.