I have flown faster than the speed of sound. I am supersonic.

A lifelong ambition and childhood dream became reality for me on Aug. 26 as I flew in an F-15E Strike Eagle with the 391st Fighter Squadron based at Mountain Home Air Force Base. The squadron was giving members of the media rides to promote the upcoming airshow, Gunfighter Skies.

So what was the first question I was asked upon my return to the newsroom after the most exciting experience of my life? Was it how fast I went or the G-force I was able to handle flipping and turning and looping around in the skies of Southwest Idaho?

Nope.

Everyone wanted to know just one thing: “Did you throw up?”

I won’t answer that right now, but it’s sure to come up later.

As a child, my bedroom was filled with model airplanes ranging from the fabled British Sopwith Camel biplane to the seductive Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird. They were carefully hung by thread from the ceiling with every other model plane I constructed. The result was a fantastic gumbo of planes and jets in an ultimate dogfight.

I love airplanes, but I’m not fighter-pilot material, so imagine the thrill when I was asked if I was interested in flying aboard a U.S. Air Force F-15E Strike Eagle, arguably the best fighter aircraft ever made in terms of versatility and years in active service.

I went to Mountain Home Air Force Base a day before the flight to be checked by a flight doctor and receive emergency training. It’s a good idea to know how to fall out of a speeding jet before you get into one, right?

The training was sobering. I might have looked a little wide-eyed when the instructor said a good way to know which way the wind is blowing after you’ve ejected from the plane and launched your parachute is to look at the plume of smoke from the wreckage of your plane.

On the day of my flight, I wondered: Should I risk eating breakfast? The helpful staff at Mountain Home told me to eat something bland such as a banana or peanut-butter sandwich and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. Eating something was better than having an empty stomach.

Once on base, Capt. David Gunter introduced himself. He was the fighter pilot who would be zooming me, and my stomach, around the clouds that day.

We had some time before the scheduled flight so Gunter sat down to a steamy plate of something spicy and Chinese.

“Have you eaten lunch?” he asked. I told him about the banana. “I’ve done this a few times so I don’t worry about my stomach anymore,” he said pointing to his meal. “The first time I went up during training — two times.”

I couldn’t tell if he was just trying to make me feel better or if it was his way of saying it’s going to happen so be ready.

Dressed in a tight-fitting flight suit and harness, I climbed into the rear seat of the F-15E cockpit, where the weapons officer would sit. While the ground crew meticulously prepped the fighter, Gunter pointed out a few knobs and buttons I should not touch. The crew helped set up a GoPro camera to record my flight as Gunter finished his preflight checks. Fighter pilots often get the glory of a successful sortie mission, but they will be first in line to thank their ground crew for keeping these magnificent machines operating at peak performance.

Gunter was given the go for an unrestricted climb, and the thrust began pushing me into the seat. As the surrounding view began to speed by at 460 mph, Gunter’s voice came across the headset in my flight helmet, “You’re going to love this.”

We began to climb. The horizon was falling rapidly out of view. We reached 10,000 feet in a matter of seconds, and the pilot rolled the F-15E nearly upside down while we made a slow turn and leveled to begin our flight route over Boise, east to Oregon, south across the Owyhee Mountains and into the Mountain Home Range Complex.

“We’ll be making a couple of G-force test turns so you’ll know what to expect later on,” Gunter said. He would give me warning before each turn so I could tighten my lower body and practice my G-strain breathing and keep blood from draining from the brain into the lower body. When that happens you can pass out.

The first turn was a sharp 90 degrees to the left that produced 4 Gs — about the same as a top fuel dragster. The next was a 5.5 G turn to the right. Some of the best roller coasters in the world can push over 6 Gs.

The G-suit I was wearing was definitely squeezing my legs and abdomen like a boa constrictor, making sure blood was staying up in my “nugget” as one fighter pilot said in the previous day’s training.

I was feeling pretty good, and I was having enough fun that my stomach concerns seemed a thousand feet below us, which is where the ground showed up after a thrilling inverted combat dive. Gunter leveled the fighter at 1,000 feet for low-altitude maneuvers. The treetops and rolling hills near the Idaho-Oregon border were zipping by at more than 600 mph. Our wingman was flying even lower to our left at 500 feet.

Remember that scene in “Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back” with the search aircraft flying low over the ice planet? That’s what it was like heading into the Owyhee Mountains.

Gunter’s voice came over the radio again letting me know we would soon be entering what Mountain Home pilots call the Edge of the World. He expertly rolled the F-15E down into a narrow canyon where we dropped below the rim. As the canyon walls zoomed by I could almost hear those immortal words, “Use the Force, Luke.”

We crossed over snow-capped peaks and then —whoa — the terrain dropped below us to the desert floor as fast as the canyon walls behind us.

We started to gain altitude for maneuvers over the Mountain Home Range Complex. I was excited because this is where the ultimate roller coaster ride would begin.

First on the list was to follow in the footsteps of flying legend Chuck Yeager. He was the first pilot to fly faster than the speed of sound (768 mph) in 1947 in the Bell X-1.

Gunter already had told me before we started that going supersonic might be the biggest letdown of my flight. The afterburners kicked in and the nearby clouds began to move by at a rapid pace. I watched the instruments in front of me as the numbers steadily rose: 0.8, 0.9, 1.0.

He was right. There were no dramatic flashes or violent shudders as the aircraft became supersonic.

“We don’t feel a thing, but outside of the aircraft there’s a boom,” Gunter said.

After reaching Mach 1.2 the aircraft began slowing down and the drop to subsonic speed was significantly more noticeable, like slamming on the brakes of a fast-moving car.

Next up was probably the coolest part of the experience. After demonstrating a quick aileron roll, Gunter said I could give it a try, “You’ve got the stick.”

Let’s pause there for a moment. Granted, a highly trained fighter pilot wouldn’t just let me take complete control of a $31.1 million aircraft. Even so, I let out a silent gasp as I took the control stick in my hand.

The responsiveness was incredible. The slightest motion left or right was immediate and better than any video game. I moved the stick hard to the left as Gunter instructed and the fighter twirled effortlessly. I went to the right for another aileron roll and slowed the spin as we leveled. I was flying an F-15E Strike Eagle!

Soon after my epiphany in the sky, Gunter called in our wingman for fighting wing maneuvers. It was like a chase, so I watched the wingman’s F-15E in front of us as we looped, rolled, and climbed at speeds that crushed me deep into my seat.

On a max G break turn we pulled 8.2 Gs. On a longer sustained turn at roughly 7 Gs, I experienced my first gray-out. We were performing a high aspect merge that would result in the wingman flying across the top of our cockpit, each of us traveling 520 mph for a closing speed over 1,000 mph. As we made the hard turn to line up, my field of vision lost color except for the point immediately in front. My vision restored in time to see the wicked blur of another F-15E zoom by. Wow!

So there it is, what I can safely say is the most exciting experience of my life.

The rest of the flight was slow and level as we approached the landing strip. Maybe too slow. Maybe too level. Maybe — dry mouth. Maybe it was a good idea to have that bag within reach after all.

As we taxied off the runway, Gunter offered one last piece of advice. “Remember one thing: Look good getting into the plane and look good getting out. That’s the most important thing.”

A big thank you to the men and women serving at Mountain Home AFB, Capt. David Gunter and the Bold Tigers of the 391st Fighter Squadron. They made me feel like part of the team for a day that I’ll never forget.

Darin Oswald: 377-6434