What It's Like Aboard America's Most Iconic Bomber, the B-52

The B-52 is one of the most iconic symbols of America's military might. The massive eight-engine bomber has been the symbol of American strategic air power from the Cold War to present and has been connected to every major American military engagement since it first saw combat in the Vietnam War.

But has this still-formidable aircraft changed since first taking flight seven decades ago? Yes and no. Getting the answer would require me to understand what the B-52 truly is and what it is like to fly in one.

For years I worked undercover against Russian military intelligence, something most thought had ended with the collapse of the Soviet Union. But national security threats live on, and that's an integral part of why the B-52 remains as relevant as ever.

It's a rare chance for a journalist like me to ride along on a B-52 training mission, but it's just the kind of opportunity that I signed up for in hosting Newsweek's Unconventional series.

The preparations for the flight were pretty intense, considering how physically demanding it is simply to be a passenger in this warplane. Just flying along takes specialized training. For someone used to flying commercially, the possibility of being ejected from an aircraft is a terrifying prospect. But here, it's something we need to prepare for.

The B-52 has two levels. The top is for the pilots and electronic warfare officers, the bottom is for the weapons systems officers. In case of an emergency, the top crew are ejected upwards, just like on a fighter jet. The crew down below get ejected downwards. I have to train for both positions.

Located outside of Shreveport, Louisiana, Barksdale Air Force Base has existed nearly as long as bombing itself. It's where some of the very first military bombers flew a century ago. Named in honor of Second Lieutenant Eugene Barksdale – a World War One flyer and test pilot – Barksdale is now one of the most vital locations for the U.S. military's deterrent force. A show of power designed to end a battle – or a war – before it begins.

Once the B-52 is designated for a flight, the crew boards, gets ready, and then a ballet of people – including both civilian and military air-traffic controllers – work to get it off the ground. The takeoff roll is both long and graceful. I watch as the pilots gently muscle the giant bomber into the air. And then, we're flying.

For such a large jet, the quarters of a B-52 are confined. At the top, pilots operate out of the cockpit, while the electronic warfare officers occupy a classified space that we couldn't show on film. Down a skinny ladder is the spot for the weapons system officer, or "wizzo."

With extensive training, the wizzo is responsible for all the weapons on the aircraft, both in training and in combat. Simulating a combat scenario, right down to pushing the launch button, is how B-52 crews build muscle memory for the real thing.

Such training also helps to prepare for the unexpected, as occurred during my own ride-a-along. Out of nowhere, there's a malfunction. The temperature in the cabin spikes. Metal surfaces become hot to the touch. It's about as physically uncomfortable as I've ever been. As the crew works to find a solution, people and equipment are overheating. Even the cameras can't handle the heat, and they stop working altogether. Despite the fault, the B-52 mission must go on. Our next objective is air-to-air refueling.

This means a rendezvous with a KC135 tanker. It's one of those moments where tensions run high inside the aircraft. Since this is a critical phase of flight, we put on our oxygen masks.

The jets take part in a delicate dance. As the B-52 takes on fuel at a rate of 7,000 lbs per minute, it gets heavier and pilots must add power. As the tanker gets lighter, they have to reduce power. While seemingly routine, it's actually one of the most dangerous parts of the job. In a plane that burns 3,300 gallons of fuel an hour, however, refueling is vital to the mission.

And then, after nearly seven hours on board, it's time to return, and we land safely at Barksdale, the yellow drag chute unfurling behind the B-52's giant tail. My 36 hours with the B-52 crews at Barksdale Air Force Base come to an end.

It might seem strange, the idea that young military members are serving a vital national security mission on a jet as old as their parents — and someday their grandparents.

But as we've seen before, getting the job done takes an approach that can be, somewhat, unconventional.