I count twenty-nine dials apart from the compass and altimeter. What are all those readouts for? There are only three dimensions of space, along with speed, fuel gauges… then what else?
Any pilots or Air Force vets have any information? Nothing against the military, but it seems like overkill, and dangerous, for a pilot to have to keep track of all that information while flying at Mach 3.
Not a pilot but I read once the dials are oriented so all the indicators are pointed in the same direction when readings are normal. All the pilot needs to see is an indicator is out of line with the rest.
Here is a diagram. Sadly, it was not scanned at a high enough resolution to actually read the tiny text, but rest assured - none of the dials are just decorative stickers.
Off the top of my head, you’d want indicated airspeed, mach number, attitude, indicated altitude, radar altitude, rate of turn, heading, rate of climb, fuel quantities, fuel flows, fuel pressures, fuel temperatures, oil temperatures, oil pressures, engine speeds (N1), turbine temperatures, hydraulic pressures, electrical voltages and amperages, etc etc etc.
Reading off that diagram I found compressor inlet pressures and temperatures, accelerometer, fuel tank pressures, spike position (engine inlets), and angle of attack.
Considering many of those are doubled because there are two engines, I think we could pretty easily knock down 29 gauges.
The SR-71 is/was way too cool! I actually saw one in flight.
Take your dashboard picture and look at the bottom. That discoloration on the floor is from the pilots crapping themselves after hitting the afterburners.
That cockpit is more simple than I thought it would be. Instruments on multi-engine planes are single or dual purpose for the most part. Old school airliners were way more complicated than the picture shown in the OP. The basic instruments for any airplane are an altimeter, attitude indicator, airspeed indicator, compass, heading indicator, turn indicator, vertical speed indicator, radios, and navigation equipment. On multi-engine planes, you also have engine monitoring instruments, fuel instruments, temperature sensors. Many of these instruments need to be redundant because they are prone to failure.
Don’t be alarmed though. Modern glass cockpits can do much more than banks of instruments ever could because you can switch things on and off as you need them. They couldn’t do that. Imagine an electronic device today that is covered in readouts that can only do one or two things each. They retrofit older airplanes so that they are much more efficient these days.
I haven’t looked at the descriptive links, but just eyeballing the photo in the OP I see an Angle of Attack indicator at the top-left of the center stack. I can’t identify the instrument next to it. Below that is the artificial horizon, and below that is a VOR receiver. To the right of the VOR are a clock (top) and the altimeter. Below the altimeter is the vertical speed indicator. To the left of the VOR is some sort of digital readout. I can’t make out the top numbers, but the middle is altitude and the bottom is Mach. To the right of the VSI are two rows of duplicate dials. I assume these are the engine instruments, but I can’t make them out.
The images are too fuzzy for me to make out most of them, and I’ve never piloted a kerosene-burner anyway.
When I was on Okinawa, 1973 to '75, there was an SR-71 squadron at Kadena Air Force base. They were known locally as Habu, after a local black sea snake, rather than Black Birds. Their hanger was, oddly enough, at a corner of the base and (kinda) visible from the main highway. There was a noise abatement berm that hid the lower half, but when the hanger doors were open you could see the top part of those unique, inward pointing twin tails.
If the hanger doors were closed, that generally meant they were getting ready to use one. If I wasn’t busy going somewhere I (hell, most of us) would go on base and park on Habu Hill, a small knoll that overlooked the southern half (usually upwind end) of the main runway. About half the time in forty-five minutes or less, we’d get to watch one take off. Not that there was anything stealthy when one did; they were quite noisy, with that absolute white noise accented with a kind of popping like you hear on a Saturn 5. The whole south end of the island knew when one left.
Coming back was more subtle. If I noticed a USAF-blue pickup truck parked a couple hundred yards from the end of the runway, up to Habu Hill again. The plane would be almost silent, quite unlike the F-4s that were still in use. The glide speed was quite high though, and the humid air would compress and expand off of the wingtips, making the water condense to arc into the air before falling to the ground in two streams. When it passed the truck, a small object, presumably the film cartridge, would eject from the back and also arc up then hit the ground. Twin chutes would deploy while the truck scooted over to the cartridge, a guy jumped out to grab it and jumped back into the truck, which then shot off to parts unknown while the plane was still slowing down at the other end of the runway.
