Air War Over The South Atlantic

The Battle for the Falklands, 1982, has received so much varied publicity in the past two years that it is now sometimes difficult to discern the wood from the trees. The proliferation of articles in the press and the coverage in the media, in general, has tended to disguise certain facts and to rely to some degree on conjecture. However, my own memories of the confrontation remain, for the most part, vivid and are ones that continue to give me great pride in my squadron, my ship and the Royal Navy as a whole. It would probably require a book to relate all my detailed thoughts on the campaign and so, in this account, I shall confine myself to just a few comments of my own and my squadron’s experience.

The journey south commenced with a rapid recall from leave, a happy embarkation in HMSInvincibleand a most remarkable and moving departure from Portsmouth harbour. The townspeople gave the taskforce an emotional send-off which was to sustain and encourage us throughout the weeks of tension and action that lay ahead.

Within the squadron, we were already delighted with the performance of our aircraft in peacetime and were very keen to get to grips with the enemy. Morale was high and we were glad to be part of the Invincible air group. Our association with the ship and our sister squadron, 820 Naval Air Squadron, equipped with Sea Kings, since our first embarkation in early 1981, had been a very happy and rewarding one. We had been tuned to operate as a single entity; with Sea Harriers and Sea Kings acting as flexible extensions of the Captain’s will to defend his ship. 1981 had been a good year for all and a very busy one; the high points were Exercises Ocean Safari and Ocean Venture, followed by a squadron fighter combat detachment to Decimomannu in Sardinia. The ship had received high praise for its success in these exercises and the squadron pilots had become experts in the handling of their aircraft and its weapon systems.

At Decimomannu, our team had achieved an overwhelming success rate against the best fighters of the US Air Force (the F-15 Eagle and the F-5E Aggressors) and this gave us great confidence for the battles to come. Throughout Sea Harrier’s time in service, it has never failed to demonstrate that it is one of the best dogfighting aircraft in the world today. It is far superior in this regime to any other fighter in the UK inventory and more than matches the best of the US Navy and US Air Force.

As the ship progressed southwards, much effort was expended in the fine-tuning of both weapon systems and operators. By May 1 we were ready for action in every sense, had great confidence and were more than a little grateful for our earlier exposure to North Atlantic gales. This latter experience had prepared us well for the unpredictable and occasionally vicious weather of the Roaring Forties.

The first day of action began with a combined attack on Port Stanley airfield. Royal Navy frigates and destroyers pounded the defences with naval gunfire support; Sea Harriers from Hermes carried out a low-level dawn attack on airfield facilities; and a Vulcan bomber flew from Ascension to attack the runway with bombs before first light.

My own squadron had prepared for a night strike on the airfield and were fully worked up to carry it out. However, our most valuable strength lay in our air intercept expertise, having carried out the full operational trials of the aircraft’s radar and weapon system. We therefore launched before the arrival of the Vulcan to protect it and the subsequent Hermes Sea Harrier attack from harassment by enemy fighters.

The combined action went very smoothly with our warships and Hermes’ Sea Harriers on target and the Vulcan achieving slight damage to the runway. The Vulcan’s exceptional flight may not have denied the Argentines the use of the runway but it undoubtedly resulted in some enemy casualties and showed the world that we would go to extraordinary lengths to defend our territory.

During the daylight hours of May 1, the first air-to-air actions of the war took place. It was a most significant day’s experience for us all; one in which we became battle-hardened and which left an indelible impression on the Argentine Air Force pilots. Our first real contact with the enemy was when Lieutenant Commander Robin Kent and Lieutenant Brian Haigh engaged a pair of Mirage Ills north of the islands. The Mirages fired two missiles with apparently more hope than expertise and the Sea Harrier pair were left unscathed. There is little point in firing a missile unless one is sure it is going to achieve the aim. A good fire solution is always necessary and this can only be realised when the aircraft is flown professionally and with total commitment to the fight.

Later that morning, further enemy Mirages were engaged by a second Invincible pair led by Lieutenant Commander John Eyton Jones. The Sea Harriers gave chase to the enemy over East Falkland but received so much ground fire from nearby Argentine ground defences that they were forced to turn away. Apparently, it was rather a pleasant fireworks display until the adrenalin took over!

My own first exposure to the enemy came at about midday when on combat air patrol close to Port Stanley airfield. My number two for this mission was Lieutenant ‘Soapy’ Watson, fresh from Sea Harrier training but already a most professional operator. The day was beautifully clear with about half-cover of cloud over the island coastline between 800 and 2500 feet. Our job was to protect a small group of our warships just north of the island (East Falkland) and excitement ran high in the cockpit when our control, HMS Glamorgan, reported three small aircraft contacts taking off from the runway at Port Stanley – so much for our hopes that the Vulcan raid had been successful!

We were about 20 nautical miles from Stanley, turned towards it and began a rapid descent. Soapy immediately ‘taught his grandad new tricks’ and acquired the enemy on radar close to the coast and heading north. We continued to close, penetrated the cloud cover and found three startled T34s just on the bottom edge of cloud. They had seen us and immediately nosed up into the cloud, but not before we were close enough to take a longish range potshot with guns. I pulled through the cloud in chase, passed too close for comfort to one T34 and inverted to pull down below cloud again. They too emerged below but in complete disarray and, most importantly, jettisoning all their bombs and stores into the sea. Part of our aim was therefore achieved and our surface ships were safe.

But at the time I was pretty disgusted with myself for missing with my initial cannon burst and spent the next two minutes trying to engage the enemy once more as they darted in and out and through the clouds towards the coastline. They used the cloud well, survived and my frustration was complete when I turned for safety as the last T34 disappeared over the well-defended ridge just to the north of the airfield.

Back on patrol together at medium altitude, we had little time for reflection. Three Mirages were reported to the south – approximately 40 miles and closing. Each time we vectored towards them they turned away and so we decided to try to ‘spoof’ them into combat. We flew north at a leisurely speed and medium altitude. ImmediatelyGlamorgan’s commentary indicated that they had fallen for the spoof and had begun to close very rapidly. With the bait taken and the enemy 15 miles astern, we turned hard into them and searched our radar screens avidly.

Almost immediately three smoke trails appeared high in the sky ahead, coming directly towards us. Forsaking the radar, I attempted a visual missile lock onto the left-hand trail, and with a mixture of frustration and amusement realised my mistake – I was trying to track an air-to-air missile! Fortunately it ran out of steam before impact and oscillated its way to the sea below as did the other two missiles. The Mirages had turned for home. It seemed as though the Argentine pilots had no desire to let us get to grips in close and this was causing them to fire beyond the maximum effective range of their missiles.

Having landed safely on board, I continued to feel frustrated even though the mission had taught me much. The aim of the game was to shoot down aircraft and I felt I had missed a chance. For the first time in years sweated through nightmares(of missed targets) for the next three nights.

As the day progressed, the mood of the squadron and the ship began to change. Frustration was in danger of becoming the order of the day and this was well exemplified by comments to aircrew before getting airborne. On the first mission it had been, ‘Goodbye, Boss’; by the third mission it was, ‘Don’t come back without a kill, Boss’! (All in good humour, of course. ) The source of this ribaldry was our team of squadron engineers led by Lieutenant Commander Dick Goodenough. These experts in the art of aircraft maintenance were the strong foundation for all our efforts during the conflict. Their outstanding hard work which was based on the highest professional standards ensured that the command had 801’s Sea Harriers available for over 99 per cent of all missions tasked. This performance was justly rewarded when Dick was later awarded the MBE.

Gathering gloom broke into the brightest day when in mid-afternoon, Lieutenant Steve Thomas and Flight Lieutenant Paul Barton engaged two Mirages at close range. Steve (who generally looked after me as my wingman during the war) used his radar to control the Sea Harriers into firing positions and drew the enemy’s fire. Two missiles passed over his cockpit! Meanwhile, Paul had achieved a firing solution, released the first Sidewinder AIM-9L of the war and his Mirage target exploded into a ball of flame. Steve fired at the second Mirage which by then was evading towards the clouds below. The missile closed on its target as the aircraft entered the cloud and there was no way of knowing whether the kill had been achieved or not.

Morale on board immediately soared and within the squadron it knew no bounds. The Sea Harrier weapon system had come of age, had worked perfectly and had begun to justify our peacetime confidence.

Shortly afterwards, as dusk was falling, an even more impressive engagement took place. Lieutenant Alan Curtis and Lieutenant Commander Mike Broadwater, working with our squadron fighter controller, Lieutenant Bob Holmes, intercepted three Canberra aircraft that were inbound to strike the fleet. The enemy aircraft had approached at high level and then descended to low level some 100miles from the task force. Ship’s radar contact with the Canberras had be. en lost leaving Alan the task of carrying out an autonomous interception in classic style. Using his radar to good advantage, he controlled his pair into a good firing position at very low level below the cloud and destroyed the lead aircraft with Sidewinder. Mike fired at the second Canberra {which by this time was making fast tracks for home) and his target was reported to have crashed into the sea be it could limpits way back to the mainland.

The first day of conflict was therefore concluded in style and Hermes put the icing on the cake with her first Sea Harrier kill: another Mirage. Although some celebration was in order, the night task remained – pilots on deck alert, in the cockpit, waiting for a new threat to emerge.

The events of May 1 had obviously given the Argentine command food for thought. Sea Harriers had claimed three certain kills and two probable in a variety of tactical situations. It is likely that the Canberra kills, in particular, caused the enemy greatest concern because only one of their aircraft returned home and their pilot’s post-flight debrief must have caused some dismay; the Sea Harrier intercept had not been easy but had borne much fruit.

Between May 1 and May 21 there were no further air-to-air actions. The Argentines avoided Sea Harrier like the plague and conserved their assets for the day the task force mounted its invasion. Our squadron was kept very busy, however: airborne throughout the daylight hours, on deck alert and flying by night, providing air defence, bombing the airfield at Port Stanley by day and night and protecting the remaining four Vulcan flights from attack. Without the support of the Sea Harrier over Port Stanley, the final two Vulcan missions could not have taken place.

Most tragically, we suffered the loss of Lieutenant Commander John Eyton-Jones and Lieutenant Alan Curtis during this period. They were lost during a patrol mission in bad weather over the sea and in defence of the task force. Their companionship, experience and expertise was sorely missed during the ensuing period, as aircrew fatigue set in and tasked flying remained the same. However, morale recovered rapidly and our engineers continued to work their miracles with the reduced number of aircraft available.

On May 18, the SS Atlantic Conveyor rendezvoused with the task force and elements of the newly formed 809 Squadron embarked in Invincible and Hermes. The four Sea Harriers and their pilots arriving in Invincible were a most welcome and much-needed reinforcement for the squadron. May 21 was Argentine Navy Day and the day that the task force established the beachhead in San Carlos Water. It was also the day which saw the hardest-fought and most critical naval and naval air actions of the whole campaign, the battle for Falkland Sound.

Under cover of darkness on the night of May 20-21, the amphibious group entered San Carlos Water and began to disembark 4000 Royal Marines, soldiers and stores of all descriptions. This mammoth task was to last all day and it was essential for both ships and personnel to be protected from loss. Commodore Mike Clapp, CB, achieved this protection in two ways. In a brilliant tactical move he stationed seven warships outside San Carlos Water in the more open reaches of Falkland Sound. These frigates and destroyers were to form the second line of defence against the expected Argentine Air Force onslaught, the first line of defence being provided by Sea Harrier CAPs.

The battle raged throughout daylight hours over and around the Sound. Approximately 70 fighters and fighter bombers (Mirages and Skyhawks) penetrated the Sound to do battle and many more than this number were turned away by the Sea Harrier cordon. An A-4 Skyhawk pilot who was shot down in the area shortly after May 21 commented that he and his formation had been turned back on four separate occasions by Sea Harriers before eventually breaking through to attack the amphibious force (out of the frying pan into the fire).

At the end of the day an on-the-spot assessment indicated that the Argentine Air Force had lost 12 Mirages/Skyhawks, two Pucaras, one Chinook and two Pumas. Our losses consisted of one RAF Harrier and two gazelles plus varying degrees of damage to HMS Ardent (which was later to sink), Argonaut, Antrim, Broadsword and Brilliant. Plymouth and Yarmouth were left unscathed. However there were only four minor casualties to our amphibious troops and the all-important aim of protecting the landing had been achieved. No Sea Harriers were lost and these Fleet Air Arm jets manned predominantly by Royal Navy pilots, claimed most of the day’s kills.

A considerable volume of uneducated comments has been made concerning the Sea Harrier’s achievements in combat during this and other days of action. Much of the veiled or inferred criticism published in the press, particularly by the French, has been in error. Both envy and commercial competitiveness appear to have played a part in such criticism. One frequent comment has been that the enemy aircraft had too little fuel to remain in the target area for more than a few minutes. This was obviously not the case as any student of Mirage and A-4 Skyhawk performance figures can easily establish. They had almost as much loiter time available over the target as did the Sea Harrier and, most importantly, they had the considerable advantage of being on the offensive and with vastly superior numbers. A further frequent comment has been that the attacking aircraft had no air-to-air weapons with which to fight. Having been on the receiving end of a Mirage’s missile during the afternoon of May 21, I can assure such detractors of the Sea Harrier’s achievements that they have ‘got it all wrong’. Further, it is worthy of note that following May 21 (and with May 1 in mind), the Argentines christened Sea Harrier the ‘Black Death’ (La Muerte Negra) and publicised this fact on their national radio broadcasts. They lived in fear of the Fleet Air Arm, though to their credit they continued with their almost suicidal offensive against our land and naval forces until Stanley fell.

Steve Thomas and I had a particularly good day on May 21. We worked under the control of Lieutenant Commander Lea Hulme who co-ordinated the Sea Harrier efforts against incoming raids from his operations room in HMS Brilliant. He gave a tireless and invaluable service and established a strong rapport with my team. Through his information and comment we were able to begin to understand and appreciate the pressure being suffered by the ships in the Sound, and at the same time began to understand that those ship’s crews were literally fighting for their lives in a relatively indefensible stretch of water.

The high morale and fighting spirit of our sailors was a tonic to us all, especially when Brilliant’s operations room was hit by cannon shells from Mirages: in spite of the mayhem all around, Lieutenant Commander Hulme never faltered but kept his important commentary flowing.

That commentary brought me my first kill when Steve Thomas, Lieutenant Commander Alistair Craig and I were vectored over the land near Goose Green to investigate a slow-moving contact. It turned out to be a Pucara which had been menacing our escorts in the Sound, and it did not take too long to destroy it with cannon fire. Nevertheless the pilot ‘stayed with it’ gallantly for as long as survival permitted and, having done everything possible to defend himself, finally ejected just before his aircraft impacted the ground. I found out that his name was Major Tomba and that he was the leader of the ‘Toucan’ flight of Pucaras based at Goose Green. He was later to prove a most helpful interpreter for our medics during their treatment of the many Argentine casualties. Later in the day, Steve and I were once more in action against three Mirages at low level over West Falkland. This was the occasion that I mentioned earlier, when one of the Mirages fired a missile at me just before we passed each other canopy to canopy. In the short engagement that followed, Steve achieved one kill and one probable kill and I claimed the third Mirage. Steve’s pilot ejected and survived but mine wasn’t so lucky.

There was no time to celebrate, however, because we sighted three Skyhawks on the way down the Sound and gave chase. They were too far ahead for us to catch them before they reached the now smoking HMS Ardent, but a pair of Sea Harriers from Hermes was on hand and knocked two of them down. At this stage I thought I had lost Steve. I couldn’t see him or talk to him and searched in vain for signs of a crash on the ground that we had just flown over It was an awful moment when I felt that he must have been lost. To my immense relief and delight I found him safe and sound when I recovered to the ship – he had been hit by enemy ground fire and had lost his radio. We both had a couple of beers that evening.

From May 21 to the end of the confrontation, there was little time for reflection as each day brought fresh challenges. Our Sea Harriers were in demand on all fronts: defending the beachhead, patrolling the islands, protecting the task force, probing towards Argentine airspace. It was a most rewarding period for us all and occasionally pretty exciting.

On the day that the Atlantic Conveyor was struck by Exocet, I was very fortunate in being on an invincible deck where I could feel a real part of a mighty warship in action. As I sat in my aircraft not far from the Sea Dart launcher I was given a grandstand view of the war at sea: missiles being launched against the enemy aircraft, Atlantic Conveyor smoking from missile impact on the port bow, helicopters and Sea Harriers surrounding the task force. Mine was the only Sea Harrier still in the ship, the remainder having been scrambled; but I was glad to remain there for once and watch my captain and his team defend our ship so well.

Perhaps the last day of particular note for me and worthy of mention here was June 1. It provided my third and final kill of the war which again was achieved with no little help from our surface escorts inshore. Steve and I were climbing out from the San Carlos area en route to ‘mother’ (HMS Invincible) when HMS Minerva reported a fleeting contact away to the northwest. Minerva was very confident that it could be an air target for us and so we turned from the way home to take a look. My radar screen immediately showed a good solid contact and, with not a little concern for our low fuel state, we set off in pursuit.

In shore, Minerva rapidly arranged two decks to take us within San Carlos Water should we be unable to make the long transit home after intercept. The radar contact was soon heading west as fast as it could and hiding below low cloud. Descending through the cloud I was elated to find an enemy Hercules, just a few miles ahead. Time was short for fuel was low, and so, in very quick time, I released both missiles and fired all my gun ammunition into the enemy aircraft. It gracefully dropped its right wing and, on fire, nose-dived into the sea. Downing that aircraft gave us all great satisfaction because the Argentine Hercules pilots had run through our blockade round the islands frequently. They were a most professional team and had resupplied the enemy forces at Stanley and elsewhere with vital munitions on a fairly regular basis.

Our joy at that success (and our safe return on board) was soon dampened that day when one of our planes went missing. Flight Lieutenant Ian Mortimer, the squadron air warfare instructor, was shot down by a surface-to-air missile near Stanley Airfield. He was in his dinghy close to the enemy-held shore and night was falling fast. His precise position was not known and the ship immediately mounted a full-scale helicopter search for him. The 820 Squadron command team of Ralph Wykes-Sneyd, Keith Dudley and Peter Galloway conducted a superb search and rescue operation which eventually culminated in Ian being snatched from under the enemy’s noses after nine hours of survival in a freezing sea. We celebrated his return with vigour.

It would be wrong to conclude this short account without paying a strong tribute to some of the as yet relatively unsung heroes of the conflict, without whom we could not have carried out our tasks in the air. The submarine fleet were first on the scene of action and they blockaded the Argentine naval ports so successfully that, apart from General Belgrano, the enemy’s surface warships were never to trouble us throughout the conflict. This achievement contributed immeasurably towards giving safe passage to our amphibious force en route to San Carlos Water and we owe the Royal Navy submariners a great debt for it. Their success did much to guarantee that our two carriers, Invincible and Hermes, remained unscathed and that we ‘stovies’ always had a welcome deck to return to.

My second and final tribute goes to every man serving in the task force surface units. They fed us, supported us steadfastly in every department, and encouraged and protected us. Most of all, however, they gave us pride in our surface fleet, that element of our service without which the Navy could not exist. The final success of the task force deployment lies in their hands and is, in the main, their achievement and our reward.

Air War Over the South Atlantic Will Be Continued in the Next Edition of Australian Aviation. Don’t Miss It!

Air War Over The South Atlantic is derived from John Godden’s excellent book, Harrier, Ski Jump To Victory. This book is available in Australia through Pergamon Press (Australia) Ltd, PO Box 544, Potts Point 2011, and selected book shops nationally.