 The U-2 was meant to be America's greatest espionage asset against the Soviet Union, invisible to radar and out of reach of missiles, but its first flights in July of 1956 revealed it was neither invisible nor likely invincible. To maintain a technological edge over the Soviets, the CIA and Air Force began defining a new American reconnaissance program to take its place. That program was OXCART, the program that gave us both the A-12 and the SR-71. This is the story of how that U-2 follow-up aircraft was doomed before it ever left the ground. Hello everyone, I'm Amy, welcome to The Vintage Space, my little home on the internet where we talk about all things mid-century that, quite frankly, interest me, like Cold War aerial espionage. If you've been following this series, all of the videos I've done to this point are linked in the description below, I've made a bit of a change. This was meant to be the fifth and final part of the series, but my first draft of this script was 27 pages. It turns out OXCARTs is a very big story, so we're breaking it into two parts. Today we're looking at the origins of OXCART, and next time it will be OXCART deployed, the SR-71, and the end of the CIA program. Alright, housekeeping out of the way, let's get started. We need to cover some background of the U-2 program since the two plain stories are inextricably linked. And with that, a little bit about the need for high-altitude reconnaissance in the early Cold War. In the early 1950s, as the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union intensified, traditional forms of espionage with human operatives became impossible. The Iron Curtain shut off communication with Eastern Europe. What World War II-era photography the Americans had was nearly a decade old, and only covered the area west of the Urals. There was a tremendous amount of space in the Soviet Union that was largely unknown. The United States needed insight into the Soviet's technological capabilities, namely its bombers and still nascent missile installations, to make decisions on its foreign policy. With no way to get past the Iron Curtain, the best option was to fly over it. In January of 1953, Dwight Eich Eisenhower took office and brought a new perspective to the reconnaissance issue. He wanted more information about goings on in the Soviet Union. The picture at the time wasn't great from the U.S. standpoint. Available intelligence said the Soviet Union was taking strides rather than steps in developing weapons. In the summer of 1949, they detonated an atomic bomb. In August of 1953, they detonated a lithium aduterium bomb that was technologically more advanced than anything the U.S. had. In the summer of 1954, reconnaissance photos found a fleet of long-range bombers called the Miastisev-4, or Bison, by NATO, that posed a threat to U.S. military bases. Scant intelligence bred the idea of a gap during Eisenhower's first year in office, which made the need for intelligence that much greater. Eisenhower wanted less guesswork in figuring out how he should position the United States' policies and prepare for possible Soviet action. When it came to these policies, Alan Dulles, the director of central intelligence, wanted the president to take an aggressive stance. The U.S. military offered the president the means to take that aggressive stance. Midway through 1954, the U.S. Air Force presented Eisenhower with three reconnaissance planes that could photograph the hidden areas of the Soviet Union, but the plane that was ultimately chosen was a fourth option from the Lockheed Aircraft Company. The full story of how it won the bid is in this video right up here. But in short, the Lockheed design, called the CL-282, was a high-altitude plane that married the F-104 streamlined fuselage to super-light sailplane wings so that it could carry a sophisticated camera system. When the plane was transferred to Watertown, the site at Area 51 in Nevada, it was given a utility plane designation of U-2 to mask its true purpose. Its cruising altitude of about 70,000 feet was thought to be out of range of Soviet radars and too high to be hit by surface-to-air missiles. The parent program was Project Aquatown. But even before the U.T. started flying, CIA program managers knew it was only a matter of time before its technological edge, its extremely high flying profile, ceased to be an advantage. Soviet radars were bound to improve over time, so the CIA started thinking about its next-generation reconnaissance plane. Among those forward thinkers was special assistant for planning and coordination, Richard M. Bissell, the CIA's leading advocate for technical intelligence gathering. He gave the U-2 two years of overflights before the Soviets would know enough about it to build defenses against it. Two years turned out to be overly optimistic. The U-2 didn't even get two flights. It was tracked on its first-ever Soviet mission on July 4th of 1956. Just two months later, Bissell and U.S. Air Force Colonel Jack Gibbs started defining the U-2's successor. Several things from that first U-2 mission directed early thinking about the follow-up program. First, that it was so easily caught on radar and tracked. Anti-radar technology became a primary goal, countering or absorbing the radar from Soviet tracking stations, thus reducing detection. Reduced radar was such an appealing prospect that work actually began as an extension of the U-2 program, an offshoot of Aquatown called Rainbow. This sub-program fell under the Scientific Engineering Institute, or SEI, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, led by Dr. Edward M. Purcell of Harvard. SEI engineers experimented with the radar-absorbing materials beginning on November 26th of 1956. Bamboo and fiberglass poles arranged on the U-2's wings in a trapeze failed to disrupt radar signals but succeeded in lowering the U-2's operational ceiling, so precisely the opposite of what engineers were hoping to achieve. A plastic wallpaper containing a printed design to absorb radar pulses glued to the fuselage, nose and tail brought a significant weight and drag penalty. In one test, the wallpaper actually caused the engine to overheat and the resulting accident killed a test pilot, Robert Seeker. Since shielding the U-2 didn't yield good results, engineers turned to aerodynamics as a way to shrink the plane's radar cross-section. Small-scale models were raised on hydraulic lifts at the Indian Spring's Air Force Base in Nevada to see which designs had the smallest radar cross-section. Lockheed got involved in this testing phase, exploring some of its own novel configurations at the base. By August of 1957, and inspired by work coming out of SEI, the CIA had its dream plane, one with a substantial increase in altitude and speed, a reduced radar cross-section based on aerodynamics and as long a range as the U-2. The new approach begat a new program, Project Gusto. Everything was on the table, including unconventional materials and structures. It was, in essence, a blank slate for creative solutions for combating the Soviet electronic threat. The Department of Defense joined the early planning stages for Gusto. It was a joint CIA-DoD program off the bat. And across the board, it was marked by excessive secrecy. Bissell urged everyone involved not to talk about it if at all possible. Soviet spies were known to be operating in the country. And if some whisper of radar-reducing technology got to the wrong ears, the whole program would be revealed, allowing the Soviets to get a jump on developing better radar technology. Bissell even went so far as to suggest that as soon as a suitable aircraft design was agreed upon, the government should consider pursuing a crash program to build 8 to 12 flight articles as quickly as possible. That way, it could fly multiple missions before the Soviets could react. Preliminary planning discussions trickled up to the White House. And in early 1958, Eisenhower's science advisor James Killian recommended undertaking feasibility studies on advanced manned reconnaissance vehicle concepts. Eisenhower concurred, requesting Bissell take the lead with appropriate security concerns top of mind. By May, an advisory board was in place under Edwin Land that would pass recommendations directly to Killian. Within weeks, the panel had two proposals to consider, one from Lockheed and one from Convair. Lockheed's proposal was a traditional aircraft in that it took off from a runway. It was designed to fly at high Mach numbers, at high altitudes, with the help of turbojet engines. Convair's was a much smaller plane designed to air-launch from a B-58. From that launch point, it could reach high Mach numbers and high altitudes faster with its ramjet engine. On paper, and with only preliminary specifications fleshed out, both planes could meet the same operational specifications within the same development timeframe. The land panel met on July 31st of 1958 to consider both designs as well as military programs then under development, but it couldn't settle on an approach. A follow-up meeting in September yielded the same indecision. The panel couldn't pick between the Lockheed and Convair designs, but it did at this point cancel Project Champion, a joint CIA Navy program akin to Gusto that was pursuing an inflatable ramjet-powered Mach 3 vehicle that could fly as high as 125,000 feet. A final meeting of this land committee came on November 12th, 1958, and its continued lack of decision was reported to Killian. By and large, the panel preferred the Convair proposal, but there was a big unknown with the aerodynamic heating in the air inlet system. The panel felt the design was too risky for a full commitment. Lockheed's traditional takeoff profile meant its plane was larger and heavier, which introduced the possibility for altitude and range penalties. Even without a firm direction, Eisenhower approved pressing forward with Gusto. Both companies were awarded study contracts in December of 1958, 1.2 million for Convair and 1 million for Lockheed. A third study contract went to the McCard Aircraft Company, the designer behind the ramjet engine that would power the Convair design for an additional $2.5 million. Pratt and Whitney turbojet engines, the one Lockheed was using in its design, were already under development with the U.S. military, and that arrangement saved the program a little bit of money. This study phase of Gusto through June of 1956 had a total price tag of $5.420 million, and the specifications that emerged were two incredibly similar designs. Lockheed's aircraft designated the A3 had a top speed of Mach 3.2, a range of 3,200 nautical miles, and a maximum altitude of 90,000 feet. It was pilot launched, meaning a traditional takeoff, and was powered by two turbojet engines. Its total mass was 95,000 pounds, it measured 100 feet long, and had a wind span of 50 feet. The plane was projected to be in the air by January of 1961. Convair's proposal, called FISH, had a top speed of Mach 4.2, a 3,900 nautical mile range, and an altitude of 90,000 feet, and was powered by two ramjet engines. Because it was air launched from a B-58, it was lighter at just 38,500 pounds and smaller, about 50 feet in length, with a wingspan of just 35 feet. It, too, was expected to fly by January of 1961. Comparing the two proposals from a logistical standpoint was difficult, since neither of these early studies said anything about the auxiliary elements. Ground support, crew needs, any special equipment, fuel costs, retrieval forces for downed planes, and miscellaneous manpower needs. There were still a lot of unknowns. Picking a plane came down to the one element that distinguished the two, was a ground or air launch profile preferred. The two programs developed Coincident, Convair and Machard on FISH, and Lockheed and Pratt & Whitney on the A3, all closely watched by CAA Air Force Evaluation Team. By May of 1958, both were far enough along for a comprehensive summary comparison, and issues were starting to surface with both proposals. On the Convair side, the main problem was the launch plane for FISH. The B-58A couldn't get through the transonic region to get the required ramjet operation for FISH's engine. FISH depended on the upgraded B-58B, but that plane was so early in its development it could hardly be considered a sure thing. For Lockheed, the main problem was that its plane, now redesignated A11, had developed to have a larger radar cross-section than was ideal, and it produced a loud sonic boom that couldn't be hidden. The panel remained undecided, so sought a final decision from Eisenhower. But before the president could weigh in, Convair experienced a significant setback in June of 1959. The U.S. Air Force canceled its procurement of the B-58B, and the cost of reconfiguring the B-58A to serve as the mothership for FISH was operationally and financially infeasible. In a meeting in Allen Dallas's office on July 14th, 1959, Bissell, Killian, and Land, among others, decided that neither the Lockheed A11 nor the Convair FISH was ultimately the right move for the United States. After a year of development and three costly research phases, both programs were canceled. But it turned out both companies had other designs in the works they wanted to submit, both powered by existing Navy Pratt & Whitney J-58 turbojet engines and both incorporating reduced radar return characteristics. A series of follow-up meetings with top CIA, DOD, and Air Force officials ended with the decision going to Eisenhower, who on July 20th approved research into the new designs, providing Bissell was able to secure funding from the Bureau of the Budget. This financial meeting came two days later. Bissell went in asking for $90 million for fiscal year 1960. There was $75 million buried in the reserve for gusto for that year, earmarked as final project approval funding from a 1958 memo. The new round of studies had money. The challenge of finding the perfect reconnaissance plane started all over again. By mid-August, 1959, the CIA had both new proposals in hand. The Lockheed design, similar to the A11, but with modifications and new elements, was now called the A12. The Convair proposal, with some market differences from fish, was treated as a follow-up and called Kingfish. The planes were similar. Both used a traditional takeoff profile, were designed to reach an altitude of 90,000 feet, had a top speed of Mach 3.2, and had similar ranges. Convairs was 4,000 miles and Lockheeds was 4,120 miles total. At altitude, the planes could cover 3,400 nautical miles and 3,800 nautical miles respectively. By and large, their size, weight, and aerodynamics were very similar, as was the projected development time. The most significant difference was cost. Convair's projected total was 121.6 million, while Lockheeds came in at 96.6 million. Lockheed also proposed a novel material for its plane. For the A12 to withstand the temperatures associated with prolonged supersonic flight, it chose to build the airframe of a titanium alloy. The material retained its strength at high temperatures, and tooling was expected to cost less than working with an equivalently strong steel honeycomb. On August 20th, 1959, a DOD Air Force CIA selection group picked Lockheed's design. Its cost was lower, its performance specifications slightly better, and Lockheed had the benefit of a sterling reputation. The government had a good working relationship with a contractor who had demonstrated it could develop and produce cutting edge planes on time and under budget with the U2 program. That vote of confidence, and particularly in engineer Kelly Johnson, helped push Lockheed over the edge. The new program would proceed along the same lines as the U2, falling under Bissell's authority on the CIA side, and essentially offering an extension of the agency's existing relationship with Lockheed from that prior program. To preserve security, gusto was officially terminated on August 31st of 1959, and replaced with a new program that was, as far as anyone outside could tell, completely disassociated with the original U2 follow-up. This new program was Project Oxcart. In September of 1959, letters between the CIA, Air Force, and Lockheed laid the foundation for the new program, and everything was conditional. There would be further anti-radar studies, aerodynamic structural tests, and other design explorations using small-scale models, but it all hinged on Lockheed successfully reducing the A-12's radar cross-section. The plane would have to represent a compromise between radar reduction and maintaining good aerodynamics, but it still needed to be better than the proposal was for the moment. Almost immediately in the early test phase, challenges surfaced. The existing facilities at Indian Springs weren't remote enough for full-scale testing. Oxcart needed a dedicated site, and talks soon turned to Watertown. This site of the U2's early development and testing had been in caretaker status since May of 1957, when it was vacated for nearby atomic testing. Now, more than two years later, it was the best spot in the country to hide this new reconnaissance plane. Out in the Nevada desert, shielded by the Atomic Energy Commission's regulations, planes could take off and land without the risk of civilians catching a glimpse. Plus, there were already roads and runways. It would need to be cleaned up, but a good amount of the infrastructure was already in place. The CIA worked with the AEC to reactivate the desert site in October of 1959. A month-long crash program later, 75 people were working at the desert site, ready to run full-scale testing. Other pieces gradually fell into place. The camera contract was awarded to Perkin Elmer in October, with Eastman Kodak on board to build a backup system. To support the pilot, contracts went to Minneapolis Honeywell for the inertial navigation system, and to the David Clark Company for the flight suit that would keep the pilot safe. All that was left was firm commitment from the government. Kelly Johnson needed a configuration freeze on the A-12 to move out of development and into production. Without it, Lockheed and all its subcontractors would be spinning their wheels just waiting. On January 20th, 1960, Richard Bissell met with agency and Air Force representatives as well as members of the land committee to go over the A-12's radar cross-section. Progress on this front was positive, but the plane's mass was creeping upwards, bringing a possible altitude penalty that would negate all the work done on the anti-radar front. Lockheed argued to the contrary, affirming that the latest design would have a top speed of Mach 3.5 and an improved range with an extra 3,000 feet in altitude. Its aerodynamics were actually that good. Satisfied, Lockheed got the go-ahead to build 12 aircraft on January 30th of 1960. The program to build a successor to the U-2 that had started in August of 1957 was officially on the books, two years and four months later. From that point, Lockheed had a little over a year to finish the first flight article. The delivery date was set for April of 1961 with the first flight scheduled for May 1st. The 12th and final aircraft was due in August of 1962. To speed up the whole process, the contractor was cleared to skip the usual competitive bidding for subsystems so long as it could demonstrate a reasonable explanation for its choice. All that remained was securing ongoing funding. When the funding request for $93,780,000 reached the Bureau of the Budget for the program it knew as Volgarian and that was for Fiscal Year 1960 alone, directors bulked. The BOB wanted further presidential approval for such a significant sum, but the CIA disagreed. During that meeting with Eisenhower on July 20th of 1959, the president had said that if the agency could meet its own very challenging goals with the new plane, the program could proceed. Half a year later, the CIA was taking that sentiment as overall program approval, including financial. Allen Dellis signed a memo saying as much to the Bureau of the Budget on March 8th of 1960. Oxcart was finally ready to go. Lockheed had scarcely begun production on the A-12 when a host of new problems surfaced. One source of issues was rooted in the selection timeframe. Since the Lockheed design had been chosen before the final A-12 configuration was frozen, there was still ongoing anti-radar research and testing on mock-ups at Watertown and that wasn't without cost. And as the design was fine-tuned with that further testing, some previously accepted subcontractor parts and fittings needed to be changed. This led to more research and development that though it yield remarkable returns in terms of technological advances, added to the program's cost and time. The choice of materials was another source of problems. The titanium alloy chosen for its high strength-to-weight ratio was not only harder to work with than anticipated, it was also harder to find insufficiently large quantities of high quality. The cost per pound in January of 1960 was $21. That was a high price point for Lockheed to reject a lot of its incoming supply due to poor quality control at the supplier. There was also the matter of a high waste factor. In one instance, a 1,000-pound billet was machined down to make a single-odd-shaped 66-pound fitting. The material cost was rapidly rising. Lockheed ultimately decided to develop its own techniques to handle and machine the metal, which ironed out some of the issues but came with yet another time and cost increase. By September, Lockheed had to revive this delivery schedule. The first aircraft wouldn't be ready until August of 1960, a delay of four months, and the final aircraft's delivery was pushed back to September of 1962, a one-month delay. The projected first flight was now slated for August 30th of 1961. The financial penalty was becoming obvious very quickly. Already in January, right on the heels of formal approval, Lockheed projected the program's price tag at 103,784,000, a more than $7 million increase from its mid-1959 projection. It wasn't just Lockheed having issues either. Pratt & Whitney was having its own production woes with the J58 engine, which took a toll on the whole program. The J58 is, in essence, a traditional turbojet engine. The compressor's spinning blades draw in air that is then compressed and injected with fuel, making it a high-pressure, high-temperature, flaming flow of gas. This happens in the combustion section. That flow moves through the turbine that draws it through the engine and expels it out the nozzle, extracting energy in the process. The pressure rapidly decreases while the velocity increases. That forceful expulsion is the thrust. Though it's a traditional-type engine, the J58, designed to power the A12 for prolonged flight at speeds up to Mach 3.2, brought unique temperature problems. Nothing had ever been designed to fly so fast for so long. The engine's turbine was designed to withstand temperatures as high as 1,900 degrees Fahrenheit as the flaming flow of gas moved into it. But testing showed that fiery gas reached temperatures in excess of 2,500 degrees. The compressor rotor wasn't structurally able to survive that environment, and the associated fuel controls and hydraulic pumps broke down from the heat. Engineering man-hours went into redesigning these engine elements, including working with new materials that brought fabrication changes, each of which had to go through verification and testing before it could be worked into the full engine. And because an engine is such an intricate system that has to work in perfect harmony, one change to one part opened the possibility that another area would need some redesigning, reworking and retesting to keep the whole system working flawlessly. It became a costly and time-consuming domino effect. Suppliers suddenly found themselves racing against the clock to develop and test new designs and materials. The J58 program basically became its own crash program within OXCART. And of course, addressing these engine issues impacted cost. The projected price tag in the fall of 1959 had been $80 million through the end of 1962 for 36 engines, including maintenance, overhauls, and spare parts support. By August of 1960, the development cost alone had risen by about $12 million. Program managers at CIA headquarters were disturbed, but couldn't exactly abandon the program. Instead, it lowered the ask from 36 to 30 engines to save some money. By December of 1960, ongoing troubleshooting also forced a change to operational specifications. The J58 top speed was lowered from Mach 3.5 to Mach 3.2. In the background of the A12 and J58's development programs, CIA and Air Force managers dealt with the overall program's logistics. In the fall of 1959, the development project's division decided that a domestic base was preferred for the A12. The OXCART operational concept envisioned missions taking off and landing from a U.S. air base with mid-air refueling extending the range for international targets. Security considerations meant that OXCART couldn't call an active military base home. It needed a remote location to keep it hidden, and that remote base needed year-round favorable flight weather, space for fuel and aircraft storage, proximity to an active air base for a cover story, proximity to labor forces, and some infrastructure considerations like an 8,000-foot runway. 10 Air Force Bases program for closure were studied for their suitability as a home for OXCART, but none were right. Only Edwards Air Force Base and the nearby Watertown site met the program's strict needs. On December 23rd, 1959, the development project's division approved Watertown's full reactivation beyond the Spartan setup to test the full-scale A12. Starting in January of 1960, the CIA worked with the AEC to get the new base up and running without transferring the deed of the land. As it had done during the U-2 program, the AEC would outwardly manage the site. A press release confirmed the arrangement. The official notice said the site was being reactivated because defense contractor, Edgerton-German-Chousen and Greer, or EGNG, was working with the U.S. Air Force to conduct various radar studies. There were 75 people living on the base at the start of 1960. That number doubled over the course of the year as the site improved. The 18-mile road leading into the base was resurfaced. The runway beefed up to support the heavier plane, and trailers were set up to serve as housing and recreational facilities. The whole site was powered by generators, while staff figured out getting it linked up to the state's power grid. In addition to EGNG staff or personnel from the Reynolds Electric and Engineering Company, or RICO, all of whom were ferried in from their home city of nearby Las Vegas in a chartered D-18. Military personnel and Lockheed staff were shuttled between Watertown and Burbank on a chartered C-47. Eventually, storage for more than 1.32 million gallons of fuel were also erected on the base. By the end of the year, everything was on track to receive aircraft number one on August 1st of 1961. The delivery date had slipped again. The final piece of the oxcart puzzle was pilots. Coordinating medical and psychological screening fell to Don Flickinger, the Air Force physician who had helped with NASA's testing program for selecting the Mercury astronauts in 1959. The criteria for A-12 pilots were not too different from the astronaut selection. Like the first spacefarers, A-12 pilots had to demonstrate outstanding proficiency and professional competency, and had to be trained jet fighter pilots with certain mandatory experience qualifications in the latest planes. Less tangible, but no less important, potential pilots had to be emotionally stable, highly motivated, enthusiastic without being foolhardy, and to have good personal habits. Physically, they had to be between 25 and 40 to stand under six feet tall and weigh less than 175 pounds. The physical constraints were dictated by the size of the cockpit and the mass of the plane, very similar to the physical limitations of the Mercury astronauts. In fact, the selection criteria were so close that the astronauts that the whole thing was done under the auspices of establishing selection criteria for space crews. And like the astronaut selection, not many men qualified. Just 16 were shortlisted to fly the A-12. The final selection came from an overflight panel established under the Director of Security to grant final approval based on each candidate's risk of capture and associated considerations. In the end, only five men from this initial shortlist joined the program. Risk of capture considerations proved to be a reasonable screening criterion. While the A-12 physical infrastructure was taking shape in the desert in the spring of 1960, you two program managers prepared Operation Grand Slam. A risky flight south to north from Peshawar over key sites in the Soviet Union before landing in Norway. Four and a half hours into the flight on May 1st and 68,000 feet over the Svedlosk, the Soviets fired three missiles at the plane. One detonated behind and below the U-2 and the resulting shockwave was powerful enough to rip apart the Delacate airframe, sending pilot Gary Powers plummeting to the ground. He was captured by Soviet forces. The full story of what happened and the effects of the power incident on the program is in this video right up here. The U-2 had never been a secret. Soviet fighters had tracked the plane since its first flight, but protest notes had always been private between national leaders. Now the American Reconsons plane was on display for the world to see and with it details of the program like its development at Watertown. It was only a matter of time before people questioned what was really going on at the reactivated desert site. Oxcart staff reacted quickly, removing all references to Watertown, Groom Lake, which was the dry lake bed that housed Watertown, and its colloquial name of the ranch from any documentation or verbiage regarding Oxcart. The site was rechristened Area 51, the bland name that was the site's map designation on all atomic energy commission documentation. The hope was that renaming the site would create a total disassociation from anything relating to the CIA. The power's incident had another effect on Oxcart. Overflights of the Soviet Union were officially done. Eisenhower was unlikely to allow any further missions unless a second downing become an even more disastrous international incident. Luckily the Corona spy satellites were nearing operational readiness and they allowed the Americans to photograph Soviet sites without violating airspace. My video all about Corona is right up here. That meant for Oxcart, its future missions and applications were suddenly up in the air. By the end of 1960, significant funding had been sunk into a program that was suddenly facing an uncertain future, at least from the CIA's standpoint. The Air Force was still hugely interested in harnessing this beyond the state of the art technology and in October purchased three long range interceptor versions of the A-12 called the AF-12. This AF-12 program, Project Kedlock, came with an estimated price tag of $111 million, half of which was earmarked for the development of weapon systems with Hughes Aircraft. This classified purchase meant the CIA needed fewer planes. The Air Force could ostensibly take over some of the necessary missions. The agency's order thus dropped from 12 planes to 10, which helped keep the ever ballooning cost in check. Problems with the A-12 persisted as 1961 dawned. The quality of titanium was one. Lockheed was getting such poor quality material that it was unable to work at full capacity. In March, there was so little good material on hand that only 20% of the labor force was actively able to work on building planes. Kelly Johnson had no choice but to tell Richard Bissell the bad news. The schedule was, again, in jeopardy, namely the wing assembly and engine development. The whole schedule was three or four months behind, at least. Bissell's reply in the spring of 1961 was harsh. His letter read, in part, I have learned of your expected additional delay in the first light from 30 August to 1 December 1961. This news is extremely shocking. These delays caused me to question the desirability of continuing the reconnaissance version of this aircraft. I trust this is the last of such disappointments short of a severe earthquake in Burbank. This has become an item of major expense and perhaps needs to be replanned on a less costly basis. The CIA stepped in with a heavy hand. The agency installed one of its own top-level aeronautical engineers at Lockheed and sent representatives to impress on the Titanium Metals Corporation the importance of Project Oxcart. The situation improved, but not before the first flight date slipped yet again to December 5th of 1961. The other ongoing issue was with Pratt and Whitney. As the technical issues mounted, so too did the cost. In May of 1961, the total program cost had risen to $45 million for delivery of 30 engines. Four months later, in September, that number had risen again to $51 million. The saving grace was the Air Force and Navy's continued funding of the program and the fact that it was the only power plant that could support the A-12's high-altitude, high-speed flight profile. The CIA stepped in, suggesting the engine manufacturer makes some organizational changes to fix its problems. Things had gotten so bad that Pratt and Whitney was on track to deliver its full order of engines without seeing so much as a penny in profit. On September 11th, the contractor told Lockheed that the J-58 just wasn't going to be ready for the December flight. Completion for aircraft one slipped again to December 22nd, and the first flight was now scheduled for February 27th of 1962. It was clear the plane also needed an interim engine, and the best option was the J-75, the same one that powered the U-2. It would be good enough for early training and test flights, getting the A-12 to about 50,000 feet with the top speed of Mach 1.6. These delays added up and the total price tag for Oxcart increased. On November 13th, 1961, the projected cost of the CIA's 10 A-12s was $165 million. The Detachment Area 51 came into its own in the second half of 1961 under Colonel Robert J. Holbury. Pilots went through ground school training at Lockheed's Burbank facility and supplemental flight training in F-101s. Support planes and their respective crews arrived in the desert, a C-130 to transport cargo, T-33s for pilot proficiency flying, a U-3A for admin purposes, a helicopter for any search and rescue needs, and a small Cessna 180 for liaison use. Everything was ready to get to work on March 15th, 1962. In anticipation of the airspace over Area 51 getting busy, the CIA arranged with the Federal Aviation Administration to restrict the airspace so no commercial or private pilots could see the A-12 ascending to altitude. It also made arrangements with NORAD such that the A-12 wouldn't trigger its air defense system. To prepare for long-range missions, fuel farms were set up at Beale Air Force Base in California, Eilson Air Force Base in Alaska, Thule Air Force Base in Greenland, Kadonna Air Force Base in Okinawa, and at Adana, Turkey. Each site was ready to assist in mid-air refueling. Aircraft I, serial number 121, went through its final checks at Lockheed's Burbank Factory in January and February of 1962. On February 26th, the airframe was partially disassembled and the whole thing was transported to Area 51 on a specially designed trailer truck. The program designed to extend the U-2's mission was finally ready to fly. Five years and one major international incident later. That is where we're going to leave it for this episode. I told you guys it's a big story that needs to be broken into two parts to tell it properly. Up next is the end of the A-12 story, its deployment and cancellation and we're also going to look a little bit into how the Air Force iteration took over since that plane has had a much longer life. In the meantime, I want to remind you guys that my new book, Fighting for Space, is available however you like to consume books, wherever you like to buy books. It is also now out in paperback, which is very exciting and it is lightly updated with additional research. My first book, Breaking the Chains of Gravity, is also still widely available. I have links for both of those in the description below. I also want to announce a side project that I think might be of interest to some of you guys. It's on my second channel and I've launched a new series called A Canadian Learns America. It's an academically informed, super deep dive into US history starting at about 1300. Here is a link to the trailer and also it is in the description below if you want to check it out. But I promise it will not affect this channel. This channel remains my main priority. It is a side project and it will be separate, I promise. A special shout out to all my Patreon supporters and YouTube members. You guys truly make these videos possible so thank you so much for your ongoing support. I honestly could not do this without each and every one of you guys. If you would like to help keep the venture space up and running and also get access to my Space Center Discord, I've got a link that you need in the description and of course, links to connect across all my social media as well. Thank you guys so much for hanging out with me today and I will see you all next time.