Air War in the South Atlantic

The next day was D-Day and before dawn two of us launched from Hermes to locate and neutralise an Argentinian helicopter parking area. Following the contours of the hills, we spotted the helicopters and attacked. I was not too lucky on the first pass with CBUs – I missed, but my wingman took out two of them with his 30mm cannon. I turned back for a second pass and used my cannon to destroy the third. I had attacked in a shallow dive while my wingman was virtually in level flight for his approach. On another occasion, I saw and hit a single helicopter on the ground with CBUs, so that made our scores even.

On May 24 it was decided to put on a combined raid on Port Stanley airfield with the RN’s Sea Harriers. The idea was to have the Sea Harriers approach over the sea and loft their bombs into the general target area to distract the defenders and keep their heads down, and seconds later for we RAF pilots to come in over the land low and fast to attack the runway. I was not on this particular raid. .

The plan worked quite well. Following the Sea Harrier attack, the anti-aircraft artillery was all pointing the other way, in the direction of their approach. The GR3s came in and caught the defences totally unprepared. Once they had dropped their bombs our pilots continued to follow the contours of the ground at ultra-low level and maximum speed. A Roland missile was fired after them but fortunately, it lost its target signal as the GR3s disappeared behind a hill. I am told another missile was also fired, but that also lost target lock and fell into the sea. On another attack, one of our pilots saw a missile drawing alongside as he left the target area. He jinked to evade it and it exploded outside lethal range.

On May 27, Bob Iveson was hit and successfully ejected as the attack on Goose Green was going on at full tilt. That evening we were asked at very short notice to attack Argentine positions on a peninsula nearby. At that time we were experiencing ordnance shortages as many of our supplies, including CBUs, had been with Atlantic Conveyor, which by then had been sunk. Fortunately we were able to use the RN’s 2in rockets as a substitute. I had used SNEB rockets in the past, so my aircraft was fitted with the 2 rocket pods on the outboard pylons – each one containing 36 rockets.

Firing those weapons was very spectacular. They fired in sequence and there was a continuous burst of flames with pinpoints of light disappearing down towards the target, followed by a series of explosions. I know it was a case of taking what weapons we could under the circumstances, but these rockets really were very effective against soft targets.

Another interesting sortie I led was a four-ship formation attack on Goose Green airfield. We approached over land well spread out to produce a less concentrated target for the ground defences, converging at the last minute to hit the target together. The first time we had experienced a lot of heavy ground fire – 1t was well before the Paratroopers had launched their own attack on the area. During the run-in, the number three in the formation reported that he was being tracked by radar – a Super Fledermaus serving the Roland surface-to-air-missile system – which did cause us a couple of anxious moments as we knew what would follow. I dropped chaff to confuse the system, while the number three broke away, also dropping chaff. That seemed to work and we escaped unscathed although we saw a lot of heavy anti-aircraft artillery in the target area, a burst of which just missed my aircraft.

As far as the chaff was concerned, we managed to install a temporary arrangement inside the airbrake underneath the rear fuselage. As the airbrake was lowered, the chaff would be released and the enemy radar confused. It worked very well as a temporary fitting, and we later received proper chaff and flare dispensers from the United Kingdom.

The Argentine ground defence firepower was on occasion very heavy, though fortunately not that well directed. It would vary from small arms to 20, 30, 35 and 40 mm guns. It didn’t take us very long to gain a great deal of respect for the radar-laid twin 35 mm Oerlikon gun. That proved to be particularly impressive from the receiving end.

I had a chance later, when ashore, to look at the ammunition configuration of those guns; I found that the belt was sequenced with two normal rounds followed by one time-fused round. The time-fused shells were confusing, as they were intended to be since they exploded along the trajectory, and could be seen sparkling across the sky. The problem was that the shells would explode at indeterminate intervals along this trajectory which was very off-putting if you were on the receiving end. It was particularly hard to locate the gun that was firing.

Bob Iveson (refer to last issue) was a friend and valued colleague, so following the Goose Green raid I carried out a solo sortie to search for him. Not that I could have spotted him but I hoped that he would use the personal radio which each pilot carried in his life jacket. I had to break off the search after a time as the Argentinian Air Force were mounting an attack with A-4 Skyhawks on the Ajax Bay area. In addition, I was very nearly hit by the Argentine defence anti-aircraft artillery, even though I was up at 15,000 ft. I saw some large calibre tracer passing very close by although I had thought I was out of range.

Argentinian ground forces surrendered to our troops the following day at Goose Green, so we moved our area of operations nearer to Port Stanley as the ring closed around the Island’s capital. Our own troops were being held up by heavy barrage fire from mortar and artillery. It was these weapons that we would now be tasked with neutralising.

It was during these attacks that I had my bad day. En route to the target area, my radio began playing up and went dead for a short time. Fortunately, the problem cleared itself for a while just before the attack. I flew through concentrated small arms fire from the ground just before the target and my aircraft was hit. I felt a fairly heavy thump, but everything seemed alright so I carried on with my attack which was on a helicopter landing site. This was deserted, so I flew on to a secondary target, an artillery position about 2 miles away. Coming over a hill, I saw the position in front of me and fired both 2in rocket pods at it, swamping the area with weapons. It was then I realised that things were not all well. My wingman signalled that I was losing fuel – that must have been the heavy thump earlier.

Just before my radio packed up totally my wingman told me that the fuel loss rate was increasing; by now I also had a hydraulic failure in the No. 1 system. The radio failed again and I felt totally on my own. I decided to try to fly as far as I could towards the carrier so I turned out over the sea and flew in the direction of the task force. But only minutes later I realised that I wouldn’t make it. My only hope lay in getting as close to the task force as possible.

The nearest friendly ship was 150 miles away from the Islands and that was a fair amount of flying time when losing fuel at that rate. By now I had climbed and was cruising at about 25,000 ft. Watching the fuel gauge only added to my gloom and left me with one thought: ‘How far would I be from the ship on ejection and would I get picked up?’ I must admit that at the time I was somewhat gloomy about my chances, flying as I was on my own, with no radio contact and now virtually no fuel. I thought I still had about 100 miles to go.

Suddenly my wingman appeared alongside me. That was terrific. He couldn’t help, but at least he was there and could act as my radio contact with the ships. Unknown to me, he had been with Hermes informed. Although I did not know it at the time, Hermes herself had acted quickly and had despatched a Sea King to my rescue. After nine or ten minutes of flying, the fuel was all gone and the engine died. I waved goodbye to my wingman as I glided towards the sea.

I did not know it at the time but there was a second Sea King helicopter also in the area. That one was not tasked with my rescue but was flying back to the flagship from another mission – collecting Bob Iveson. Pity, it could have been quite a reunion, the two of us out there in the middle of nowhere.

As I glided down, I prepared myself for the ejection. At 10,000 ft, I pulled the handle and was powered out of the cockpit in a fraction of a second. The chute opened normally and I began my final descent to the sea. In the stillness of the air, I could hear a chopper’s rotor blades – relief – it was the Sea King sent out to pick me up.

I hit the water hard and I must admit was not quite prepared for it being so cold. Fortunately, I was only in the sea for about ten minutes and was soon being winched up to the comparative safety of the inside of the helicopter. I am entirely grateful to 826 Naval Air Squadron. Not only did they get me out of a nasty situation, but to do so they had to pick me up in 15 ft waves with a 25 knot wind blowing. It wasn’t easy, but they managed very well.

Back on board, I arrived at the debrief only minutes after my wingman, who had returned safely. As far as the actual ejection was concerned, it was my first and I hope my last; even though the system worked extremely well it was still quite a rough ride. Like many who eject, I suffered a minor injury – just a stiff neck. I was off flying for only one day before I was ready to fly my next operational mission.

On this next sortie, I flew with the five-camera reconnaissance pod on the Harrier’s under-fuselage pylon. We were trying to locate land-based Exocet missile launchers on which we were now getting a fair amount of intelligence. I searched the Port Stanley area along the coast right up to the airfield but found nothing. We expected that they would be hard to pinpoint.

My wingman this time flew as a decoy – in effect attracting the attention of the defenders but staying out of their range while I came in from another direction to carry out the recce run. It was a complete success; all heads – and guns – were pointing at him, leaving me with a clear run. I came in as low and fast as I could, expecting to pick up a lot of fire from the many guns in the area.

Following that mission, we turned our attention to Port Stanley itself although the weather by then was hampering flying operations. I flew two more attack sorties, the first with CBUs on to artillery positions and the second using ‘smart’ bombs. I released these in a loft attack and they appeared to be very effective, the forward air controller giving me a direct hit on a gun position with the first bomb. With that mission, my participation in combat operations came to an end – as did the Falklands fighting shortly after. Even at the time of the surrender we had Harriers in the air, off to attack more targets. They were contacted while en route to the target and were told that white flags were up in Stanley.

Naturally, we have thought a lot in retrospect about the campaign in the Falklands. The Ferranti inertial navigation reference and attitude equipment (FINRAE) was, in my opinion, very useful. This equipment was designed to permit inertial alignment to be carried out on the deck of a ship. During our combat operations, we found the Argentine flak to be far more effective than their surface-to-air-missile defences. Fortunately for us, the Argentinian troops never quite got their act together where small arms fire was concerned. By comparison, the Scots Guards certainly did, bringing down three A-4 Skyhawks out of a formation of four on one occasion.

Once ashore we had a good opportunity to look around. We heard from army personnel and civilians that whenever a Harrier or Sea Harrier attacked, a Roland or some other surface-to-air missile was launched after the retreating aircraft. None of them hit us. Certainly, the Argentine forces had plenty of ammunition to spare and that explained the very heavy anti-aircraft artillery fire we experienced. When we subsequently inspected deserted Argentine gun positions, large quantities of ammunition were still lying around ready for use.

As for the Harrier, I can add little to what has already been said about its capabilities. It is after all a very complex aircraft, packed with equipment in a very compact frame. Any aircraft is vulnerable, of course, but the Harrier proved time and time again, that it could take as well as give punishment. The Harriers that were lost to ground fire were hit good and hard before they were brought down. Other Harriers with hits – and some of these were not minor – returned successfully to the ship with very few serious problems, except for one aircraft which was hit in the rear reaction control duct later in the conflict. That aircraft arrived on deck virtually on fire. Certainly, it was too hot to go near and the paint in places was burned right down to the bare metal. In spite of this there was no loss of control in the vertical landing and the aircraft was repaired and back flying again within a surprisingly short space of time.

Of course we would have liked an armour plate around some areas, but the extra weight would mean that some other item of equipment would have to be discarded- and that wouldn’t have been very acceptable either! During the conflict I had to keep reminding myself that we were operating miles out at sea, launching from a small carrier that bounced around, to carry out ground attacks 250 miles away. The nearest friendly runway lay 3,500 miles away at Ascension Island and the VISTOL Harrier was certainly crucial to the success of this operation. The ability to land on any small strip or ship is the key to the operational flexibility of our tactical airpower in the Falklands. I pitied the Argentinian Air Force, diving into the attack not knowing whether or not they would have sufficient fuel to get back to their mainland bases. I am sure many of them did not make it.

Our superiority in training and equipment won the day. In particular, our training in the United Kingdom and Europe in ultra-low-level flying proved vital to our operational success. It is a pity that we can’t do even more of this type of training in peacetime. As far as ground attack is concerned, no matter how low or fast an aircraft is, it is going to get shot at and hit quite often if it flies anywhere near a defended target.

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.