In Part 1 and Part 2 of this series about Dyess Air Force Base in Abilene, Texas, we covered my recent supersonic B-1 flight with the 9th Bomb Squadron – and my immersion into the base’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) unit, complete with bomb suit. Here, in Part 3, we focus on maintenance of the B-1 bomber’s formidable engines.
As reported earlier, four General Electric F101-GE-102 turbofan engines power the aircraft. During takeoff and supersonic runs, the afterburners typically are lit. At that level, each engine puts out more than 30,000 lbs. of thrust, and, collectively, the four gulp more than 240,000 lbs. of fuel per hour.
Given such high demands, engines occasionally break down. To prevent that, they must pass regularly scheduled inspections after 200 flying hours, with full-engine teardowns every 4,000 hours. For the inspections, engines are carefully removed from the aircraft and to a special Dyess maintenance area. There, they are rebuilt and refurbished accordingly.
The last step before returning the engines to planes is testing them at full throttle. My photographer, Art Harman, and I were invited to watch this procedure from the chamber where it is done. We were met at Building 5111 by MSgt Nathanael Rehburg, CRF Assistant Flight Chief, 7th CMS.
Mind you, there is nothing in that chamber to protect us if something goes awry. Say an engine malfunctioned during a full power test and coughed up a blade or two, or if it exploded – or if the thing came out of its confines and the jet nozzle sprayed in our direction – we would be helpless, basically toast. To prevent this nearly impossible occurrence, the engine we encountered had already been run at full power several times prior to our arrival.
First, we watched a full test run in the control room. Even from there, it’s impressive. A 30-foot focused yellow/blue flame roared from the back of the engine into a narrow concrete tunnel, then vented to the outside air. The spectacle reminded me of the launching of a Saturn V rocket.
Once the engine rpm dropped back to idle, and everything was deemed safe, we carefully made our way in to the chamber to watch from there, hugging the near wall as we moved along. For noise, we were given simple earplugs, plus headphones to cover them. All jewelry, cell phones, tape-recorders, watches – anything loose – was left in the control room.
As the engine began to rev, we hung on to metal scaffolding along the wall to prevent us from being sucked toward it. First, there was a significant amount of building noise and hurricane-force winds blowing through the chamber. Once the afterburners kicked in, though, it got wild, including palpable rumblings in your chest, plus the added element of heat.
I was upfront, closest to the flame. My bare arms and face gradually got hotter and hotter, as if I were in an oven. There was nothing I could do to address the discomfort. I couldn’t cover my face with my hands, as I was holding on to the scaffolding for dear life, and I certainly couldn’t move back in the line, further from the flames. I guess if there is such a thing as Hades, this is it.
After 30 seconds of full afterburner, which seemed twice as long, everything thankfully was shut down, and it became eerily quiet in the chamber. The engine was ready to go back into service. I knew these monsters were powerful, having been in the B-1 when they kicked in, but being so up close and personal, well…
A bit stunned, we politely thanked the maintenance group and continued our tour to the next functional Dyess area. There are many. And no, my hair did not catch on fire, but it had come close. What an experience!