Sea Harrier Sortie

The gap left in fleet defences by the demise of these conventional carriers and aircraft was to be filled by support from ashore by RAF squadrons. However, with the vast distances involved in such support, the naval and air staff agreed in the need for quick-reaction, fixed-wing aircraft at sea. In 1975, the decision was therefore taken to develop a maritime version of the Harrier V/STOL aircraft which would operate at sea without catapult or arrester wires and from smaller decks than would be possible with any other fixed-wing aircraft.

Today’s Sea Harrier pilot needs to be a jack of all trades and, fortunately, time and circumstance have provided him with what may only be described as a remarkable aeroplane. It needs to be, in order to support its three chosen roles of fighter, reconnaissance and attack. In the fighter role, it will be required to intercept enemy intelligence-gathering and strike aircraft by day and by night in all weathers.

For this task a new radar has been fitted to the aircraft, the Ferranti Blue Fox. Sea Harrier is the only aircraft of the Harrier stable to be equipped with radar. In the reconnaissance role, Sea Harrier will extend the eyes of the fleet hundreds of miles beyond the horizon and in the attack role will provide the command with the ability to seek out and destroy enemy ships well beyond the range at which the enemy could threaten our own forces.

Sea Harrier will normally carry the latest Sidewinder air-to-air missiles and the well-proven 30 mm Aden cannon. Surface forces will be attacked using the long-range, stand-off, air-to surface missile, Sea Eagle (or Harpoon).

This variety of roles and weapon capability demonstrates well the new aircraft’s operational flexibility (all other Harrier types are designed purely for the air-to-ground battle, over land, by day).

The Sea Harrier is therefore a sophisticated weapons platform. On an operational sortie against the enemy, the pilot is provided with a number of distinct advantages. These stem from the heart of the machine, the Rolls-Royce Pegasus MK 104 engine; the small size of the aircraft; its outstanding handling qualities particularly in the fighter combat role; and, finally, its ultra-modern, microchip-based avionics package.

How do these qualities combine to serve the pilot during an operational mission? Well, preparation for a sortie from the deck of HMS Invincible or her sister ships has really begun a long time previously with the intensive training each student pilot receives in the Operational Flying Training Squadron at RNAS Yeovilton in Somerset.

Here the young aircrew officer is received from the RAF flying training pipeline having already learned the basic academic flying skills needed in a modern jet fighter. He is then transformed over a period of months into an operational tactician and weapon system operator, absorbing a great deal of knowledge and learning to cope safely with a high workload in the most demanding environments of flight. He has to become an expert in each aircraft role and, of particular importance, has to come to terms with the problems that arise when operating from a small pitching deck miles from land (or alternative airfields) by night and in the worst weather that the North Atlantic can provide.

In this arena, he literally has his life in his own hands and is confronted by many challenges which a land-based operator has no need to face. He also has little option but to deal with problems as they arise and, whatever those problems may be, must eventually recover safely to the one small deck. His training therefore needs to be rigorous and it continues when he joins his front-line squadrons under the direction of his senior pilot and his air warfare instructor.

By the time he is committed to action, the young pilot has been thoroughly drilled in all the roles of the aircraft and is capable of switching at will from an air intercept mission to the.

And so to today’s sortie, which is being flown from the deck of HMS Invincible exercising in the North Norwegian Sea.

The first essential, before we even climb into the aircraft, is to obtain a full briefing from the ship’s operations team. One vital factor we are told is the aim of the mission, which today is an important one: to establish the accurate position and composition of a task unit that has rounded the North Cape. Launch from the deck is planned to allow visual identification of the unit during the early dawn.

As hostilities have not been declared a close approach to the warships may be possible without being fired on. A general search area is briefed and domestic details associated with any sortie – such as communications policy – are given. Then we receive the weather brief. It is a dark night with a low cloud, but only a moderate sea-state. The dawn will rise before the sortie is over. This gives a sense of composure: the ship is operating many miles from land and with no alternative landing ground available.

The pilot is given the expected position of the ship on return from the sortie and alternative targets or missions. Detailed calculations are then made and tactics are discussed within the squadron; the engineers arm the aircraft with appropriate weapons and the pilot goes on deck to man his aircraft. Although routine, manning an aircraft always requires full attention to detail and safety, particularly with live weapons fitted and at night.

In the cockpit, the microchip revolution has bestowed many benefits. The Blue Fox radar in the nose provides the main for the all-weather capability of the aircraft in all three roles. An associated advantage of fitting this radar comes from raising the cockpit and therefore the pilot’s eye view in order to accommodate the necessary black boxes underneath the cockpit floor. This gives the pilot a much cleaner field of view than in other Harriers, particularly when looking aft.

The radar picture is displayed to the pilot in an easily interpretable form and in a comfortable position just below the instrument panel coaming.

Airborne targets are ‘seen’ by the radar and shown to the pilot as small dots on the radar display. The display is configured to allow the pilot to read the accurate range, bearing and elevation of a particular target. Control of the radar is a function of a hand controller just aft of the engine throttle.

A Smiths Industries weapon aiming computer provides the heart of the avionics package and takes information from the radar and the Ferranti inertial standard navigation computer, displaying weapon aiming solutions to the pilot in the head-up display. Also displayed is a fund of flight and navigational information.

With external checks complete and the pilot strapped into the ejection seat, the deck signals ‘clear to start’. The engine start sequence is initiated with a push button; the pilot monitors engine temperature and rpm as the aircraft bursts into life. A multitude of background noises are generated through the helmet earphones and the aircraft hums with the familiar vibration of ground running. All is well and post-start checks are carried out followed by pre-take-off vital actions.

Within the compass of these routine checks, the variable thrust nozzles, unique to the Harrier breed, are functionally tested by rotating them through their range. The four rotatable nozzles are the major distinguishing feature of the Pegasus. They enable the whole thrust of the engine to be vectored to any position from fully aft, down through the vertical to forward vertical. This latter position is known as ‘the braking stop’ and, in forward flight, provides the Harrier breed with the best deceleration of any aircraft in the world today. In the vertical, nozzle vectoring provides the aircraft with its unique but docile vertical take-off and landing capability. With thrust nozzles aft the aircraft accelerates to 400 kt more rapidly than any other fighter.

We are now ready for the launch. Engine acceleration to 55 per cent is good; all checks are complete; the short runway ahead is clear and the command has given the green light.

Ahead, floodlit with gentle light and standing out starkly against the black night sky beyond is the structure of the ski jump at the end of the short runway. The ski-jump is a device, simple in concept, consisting of a smoothly curved ramp which in Invincible has a slope of seven degrees at the end of the ramp. On launch, the aircraft accelerates along the deck and up the ramp, leaving the deck at less than flying speed but with a good velocity upwards. It then follows a ballistic trajectory and before all the upward velocity is lost, the engine thrust has accelerated the aircraft to flying speed. Known as the ‘runway in the sky’, the ski-jump is a remarkable invention that allows the aircraft to take off from a very short deck run with a higher payload of weapons and fuel. It also gives the pilot more time to think and act if things go wrong and is therefore a most welcome safety factor.

The launch itself causes the adrenalin to flow just as it used to when committed to a Phantom catapult shot from the old Ark Royal. However, instead of relying on the ship’s steam pressure and Rolls-Royce Spays to accelerate the aircraft to flying speed,

I now have my fate totally in my own hands and in the established reliability of the Pegasus. The deck run up to the ski-jump on the bow is ridiculously short but, even with Sidewinder missiles loaded, Aden gun ammunition at its maximum and full fuel, I know the launch will be safe and easily controlled.

I slam to maximum power releasing the brakes as the thrust compels the Sea Harrier forwards. A quick check that I have full power before the aircraft has moved its own length and in no time at all I am feeling the hump-back effect of the ski-jump. Ahead there is only blackness beyond my head-up display but as the ‘g’ force disappears and I slam the nozzles down to the calculated setting I know all is well; the aircraft is climbing rapidly on a mixture of engine power and, as we accelerate, rapidly increasing wing lift.

The Harrier’s wing is a feature almost as remarkable as its engine configuration. Although small and therefore highly loaded, it provides the pilot with a smooth and responsive ride and in slow-speed fighter combat its handling qualities are supreme. The Harrier is extremely spin-resistant so a pilot may explore its qualities to the very edge of the flight envelope during training and achieve the highest possible confidence and competence.

I place the nozzles fully aft as flying speed is reached and persuade the nose gently forward, levelling my flight path above the unseen waves to leave the ship at a low level. This will protect it from discovery by any enemy surface radars over the horizon.

Seconds after launch I throttle back to maintain 400 knots plus, check all my systems are working and monitor the guidance given to me by my navigation computer.

Up to now, I have been flying ‘on instruments’ with no visual cues at all from the outside world, but as I pass through 6000 feet I break clear of cloud and see the eastern sky brightening by the minute. The cloud below is breaking up but even had it not my aircraft sensors would provide me with nearly all I need to know without me actually seeing the targets.

Before descending to a low level, I have established electronic contact with a group of ships and as I level off just above the wave tops I concentrate on flying the aircraft as low as possible following the directions of my navigation kit which now has an accurate enemy position inserted.

The ride at a low level is pleasantly solid. In turbulent conditions, the high wing loading reduces any discomfort and the aeroplane feels positive and responsive to all pilot inputs. At night low-level flight is by its very nature hazardous unless the majority of the pilot’s attention is given to maintaining a safe altitude above the waves. In the Sea Harrier, this is made easier thanks to the design of the head-up display and the instant availability of accurate flight information through that display. The supersonic P1154 was 30% complete when in 1965 the Royal Navy withdrew from the programme in favour of the American F-4 Phantom II. The P1154 was being built in two versions, one for the RN and one for the RAF while at the time of abandonment, the BS100 engine was producing 30,000 lb thrust through the use of Plenum Chamber Burning. The use of PCB on a derivative of the original BS100 engine will contribute greatly to the eventual development of a supersonic Harrier later this decade. This project has the go-ahead following the recent teaming of British Aerospace and McDonnell Douglas in the production of the AV-BB Harrier II. Deployment of Harrier-type aircraft aboard converted civil container ships, as is now being seen in the South Atlantic, would go a long way towards providing air cover for convoys out of range of shore-based LRMP aircraft. The old (or perhaps new) Fleet Air Arm adage that ‘it is better to stop the plane and land than to land then stop the plane’ is a perfect comment on how much easier a Harrier is to recover at sea compared to a conventional fixed-wing aircraft.

Continuing towards the target at a low level, I feel safe from detection until the last minute but nevertheless, arm my weapons – just in case the balloon has gone up since I launched!

Visibility is good in these cold arctic climes and as I cross the enemy’s horizon in the grey light of dawn I can see my targets rapidly growing larger from dots to discernible superstructures. The camera on and ready. As I film, I have time to recognise positively the largest of the five vessels. It is an enemy carrier and so I can expect some ‘company’ on the way home. I jink hard away from the enemy’s weapon systems feeling definitely uncomfortable.

Remaining at low level and high speed, I turn the aircraft hard at intervals to look behind for pursuing enemy fighters. Nothing seen and soon, at considerable range from the enemy, I climb through the increasing cloud cover en route for Invincible. Naturally, I don’t head directly for home as this could give away the ship’s position. Instead, I rely on my navigation computer to assist my return by a devious route.

However, when in descent and turning towards the ship, my radio sparks into life. Whilst I’ve been airborne, an unidentified contact has been made to the North of the fleet and I am ordered to intercept and identify.

I adjust my track as directed and search the skies with my radar for the offending contact. A further Sea Harrier has been scrambled from Invincible but has a long chase on its hands to catch the unidentified aircraft, now receding North on the ship’s radars. I am in a good position to intercept.

I achieve good radar contact and climb to approach the target altitude. He is at a medium level and, as the range decreases, he has probably detected me on his listening devices because he has turned towards me. I put him on the nose and at several miles before intercept a dot appears through the radar marker in the head-up display. I switch off my radar and revert to the silent world of the fighter stalking his prey.

Climbing rapidly and turning hard away from the target, I keep my eyes glued to it. As it grows larger it does not deviate from its flight path and I feel confident that its pilot has not seen me. Thank goodness for smoke-free engines and small size. This is a great tactical advantage providing the enemy with major problems in ‘seeing’ the Sea Harrier either visually or on radar. The smoke-free exhaust from the Pegasus engine denies the enemy another important visual clue which is common to many of the world’s military aircraft.

I’m now 5000 feet above him and his silhouette is clearly outlined against the white cloud tops. Descending and turning now like a bird of prey that the Harrier really is, I pass through his altitude two miles astern.

He does not realise that he has close company and as I approach the gun range I feel thankful for all my training and for the thoroughbred qualities of the aircraft I am flying and its outstanding success rate against other types of aircraft.

But my orders are ‘identify’, not ‘be identified’ and I am rapidly overtaking the target. I have at least 100 knots to lose before passing him. Although it is tight, the Sea Harrier can cope here where no other aircraft could. I select full braking stop on the thrust nozzles and feel the full force of massive deceleration, my body thrusting hard forward against my straps as the Pegasus slows me down. I stabilise behind him and then discreetly drop astern before turning away towards the base, unseen.

Momentarily, I think back to my Phantom days when, although I had the company and invaluable assistance of a second professional aviator in the aircraft, the task of landing onboard in bad weather was an order greater than with Sea Harrier. A Phantom approach relied on a precision talk-down by a controller on board the ship to a point where the ship’s landing sight could be seen by the pilot. The aircraft speed on final approach would be 150 mph plus and would need to be finely controlled to within 2 mph to prevent damaging the arrester wires. The aircraft had to be flown down a very precise path, divergence from which could mean missing the wires or, at worst, collision with the ship’s stern or superstructure.

Now, all I have to do is to find the ship, decelerate to the hover and land. It is easy to say, and again I am glad of the aids available in the aircraft and its versatility. No arrester wires to worry about and a controlled landing as opposed to a ‘controlled crash’ to look forward to.

My fuel is low, but very adequate and I am nowhere near the margins of performance on the engine. There is a lot in hand as I level off in near darkness 1000 feet above the waves. I would be able to make several attempts to get on board today, but that is unheard of with the Sea Harrier: one attempt is nearly always enough.

I position myself astern of where I hope the ship is, clutch my radar into navigation computer control and switch to transmit. A familiar group of echoes stands out under the radar marker on the scope and at about the same time, the aircraft’s microwave guidance equipment locks on to Invincible.

Although clouds and heavy rain obscure the vision ahead, I progress down the recovery glide path with confidence. All my checks are complete and suddenly a refracted image of lights appears ahead of me out of the gloom and through the rain. I select nozzles down to the hover position and as the aircraft decelerates I increase throttle and am reassured by the steady, responsive roar of the Pegasus.

At about 100 knots and 150 feet above the waves, the fractured lights ahead reveal the welcome shape of home: the invincible deck. With good visual clues, my workload rapidly decreases, but pride still demands full concentration – as does flight safety. Once in the hover above the flight deck, a quick scan confirms my landing area is clear of personnel and obstruction. A little bank and I move sideways over my landing point; reverse bank and I am now established in the final hover before touchdown. A small reduction of power immediately reapplied and, with a little buffet from reflected thrust near the deck, the vertical landing is complete.

Not the sortie though: a rapid debrief by myself to the command, the photographic section develops film of the targets and the squadron engineers refuel and check the aircraft for a further flight. A simple armed reconnaissance and intercept mission is over but the next launch maybe four or five aircraft armed with air-to-surface missiles or combat air patrol in the fighter configuration awaiting an air strike from the enemy.