I Am Spirit 544

I never expected to step inside the cockpit of a B-2 Spirit, the Pentagon's long-range stealth bomber. So you can imagine the shock of being at 27,000 feet and hearing an Air Force pilot tell me over the cockpit intercom, "Okay, you have the jet."

I place one suddenly damp left hand on the throttle and the right on the stick, taking nominal control of a $2 billion aircraft. There are only 20 B-2s in the Air Force arsenal, including a second B-2 flying formation with us, slicing through clouds a scant 4 miles ahead. It occurs to me that with some exceptionally bad luck, I could endanger one-tenth of the American B-2 fleet and cause a rebalance in global military power.

But Timothy "Scar" Sullivan, of the 393rd squadron, 509th Bomb Wing, based in Missouri's Whiteman Air Force Base, isn't worried. The B-2 pilot has confidence in three things: His unshakeable ability to monitor every detail of the flight, his ability to recover from anything I can possibly do at this altitude, and the airplane's ability to stop me from doing anything too dumb. He's also rated as an instructor, so he's qualified to operate the airplane with nothing but untrained dead weight (me) on the right side of the two-seat airplane.

We're not carrying live bombs, of course. But even so, leaving the Spirit of Georgia to the hands of a reporter with no piloting experience—and whose familiarity with B-2 controls entails a simulator ride the previous day that ended with a crash during landing—seems unwise.

"Take her to the other side," Scar says, wanting me to steer the Spirit of Georgia so it crosses behind the leading B-2. I push the stick left; the horizon tilts. "You can be more aggressive," the pilot says, "you're not gonna break her." I can't help but think about the simulator's violent, hydraulically activated shudder and red screen of death.

There's no way to back away from this opportunity, though, so this time I push the stick firmly. The airplane's tilt becomes steeper and we casually edge left. Maneuvers in an aircraft built for endurance and range happen slowly and deliberately. Spirit of Georgia is responsive and has a top speed of 600 mph, but it's not what you'd call peppy. We smoothly swing behind the other B-2. With the turn complete, I straighten the Spirit so it's flying even with the horizon. I have the jet. I feel like I've accomplished a feat worthy of a Collier Trophy for aeronautic achievement.

That might be a dramatic overstatement, but my trip is nevertheless historic. A B-2 pilot at Whiteman told me that the number of astronauts who've been to space is larger than the number of people who have flown in a B-2. I look it up and find it's true: As of that moment, 552 people had traveled into space. Only 543 people have ever flown in the cockpit of a B-2. Upon landing I'll become number 544, with the new Air Force handle "Spirit 544."

This isn't some phony round-the-flagpole ride, either. The mission plan includes simulated bombing runs and an aerial rendezvous with a fuel tanker. It's much more than I ever expected when the Air Force agreed to let me get close to the service's prized, secretive platform.

The B-2 flies missions with a crew of two, but it takes dozens of people to keep it operational. I spent three days at Whiteman meeting the airmen who work with the B-2s and who prepared me for my flight. Senior Airman Montse Belleau, photographer, chronicled the visit and the Air Force cleared the following images for public release. No cockpit photos are allowed, some weapons cannot be discussed, and the Air Force does not permit certain angles of the bomber to be photographed.

Still, it's hard to complain about access when you actually get to fly the plane.