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"THE HIGH UNTRESPASSED SANCTITY OF SPACE ... "<br />
EAST<br />
With all that was going on in the cockpit, it was a wonder I ever had a chance to look<br />
outside. Besides being so busy, the sunshades used to block the harsh glare of the<br />
sun, also obstructed the view. When I did find a moment to look outside, I would<br />
often see what I called 'virgin' geography. Virgin geography was land over which I<br />
would normally never fly, had I not been flying the Blackbird. Some days it was so<br />
clear I could see forever. One time while flying close to a particularly hostile nation,<br />
I couldn't help noticing the scenic panorama below me. Summer afternoon<br />
thunderstorms embraced a rugged mountain range. My eyes followed the storm<br />
pattern across the land and I realized the same line of building clouds extended<br />
across the border into the other side's territory. More striking still, the mountains<br />
that rose gracefully in each land were all part of the same range. The earth knew no<br />
lines of demarcation; it didn't adhere to the borders drawn on our maps. The range<br />
of mountains and the line of thunderstorms were apolitical. The clouds were no less<br />
white, and the sun shone just as brightly, on the other side. I thought for a moment<br />
how people could be so separated by ideas, words and boundaries, yet from where<br />
I sat, the earth was all part of one integrated pattern of random harmony. It was sad<br />
that those who ruled across the unseen border in that beautiful scene, had brought<br />
tyranny to an entire nation of people. Sadder still was the thought that someone<br />
down there heard my aircraft and thought I was the enemy. Walt alerted me we<br />
were being tracked by hostile radar and I pushed up the Mach. For a moment I had<br />
seen the world with great clarity.<br />
WEST<br />
Because of the higher latitude of England, winter days were very short. As Walt and<br />
I took off from England at mid-morning one cold January day, I had no idea that I was<br />
about to witness sights that would become the most memorable scenes in my<br />
twenty years of flying.<br />
Our route took us far north. During our first aerial refueling, two Norwegian F-16<br />
fighters joined on our wing as we slowed to rendezvous with our tanker. They<br />
provided a friendly escort and seemed to enjoy having our aircraft become part of their
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