Air War Over The South Atlantic

Prior to our arrival in the total exclusion zone and the first bombing attack on Port Stanley, my activities were much the same as those of any other member of the squadron. I did not take part in the first raid but spent most of my time on CAP on one or other of the three patrol zones to the west, northwest and south-west of the islands. ·

In the early stages of the campaign, once we had arrived at the Falklands, while some aircraft would be on CAP, others would be on alert 5 on deck. Alert 5 could be very tedious. We would sit for hours in the cockpit ready to go with nothing happening. And then suddenly there would be a scramble and the adrenalin would start pumping madly. The launch followed and then an hour of terror as we flew out to do battle with the Argentine Air Force. When we located the enemy, sometimes he got the first shot in and it was only by relying on him missing that we could close for combat. Fortunately, the Argentine Air force was fairly stretched as they were operating some way from their bases and did not have the fuel to mix it in the combat zone for very long. There is no doubt in my mind that the waiting was the worst part, it was as tiring and effort-consuming as flying.

A typical day for me would begin an hour before lunchtime – it only got light at 1100 hours local time and was dark at 1730 hours – when we would muster in the ship’s Number 1 briefing room to receive important information such as the ship’s position, course and speed and the various call signs. In addition, it was also vital to know the locations or whereabouts of other escort vessels as we had to avoid their air defence firing zones when we returned to the carrier.

After signing out, we had our aircraft allocated and we would then go on to the flight deck to carry out our external checks of the aircraft. It always seemed like absolute bedlam on the flight deck. Apart from the normal 30 knots of· wind over the deck, there were helicopters landing and taking off, people shouting unintelligible orders at God knows who and aircraft being shuffled from one side of the deck to the other anc;l back again for no apparent reason.

Finally, with only four minutes to go for launch, I would get into the cockpit and carry out the internal checks. It is always at this point that the harness snags on something or the umbilical cord to the ‘G’ suit gets in the way and has to be untangled. It is moments like these that can be the greatest danger to a pilot. The cockpit checks are important – a pilot’s life depends on them – and they must be done properly. So in spite of being hassled and with the straps and cord getting in the way, the pilot still has to force himself to go through the procedures, even though he can see ‘Wings’ looking at his watch and you know he is muttering, ‘Why hasn’t R4 started up yet?’

Finally, with the clock still ticking away, the checks are complete. Here we go – fuel boost pumps on, start selected, master pressed, GTS winding up, HP fuel cock on – here we go – jet pipe temperature rising – she’s turning and burning. The navigation system takes two minutes to align so, without further ado, I initiate that process and sit it out. One-and-a-half minutes to go and it looks as though we might just make it.

The aircraft deck handlers are now unlashing my aircraft. I check that the ejection seat safety pins are out – otherwise, I would not be able to get out should the need arise – and I have now completed all my pre-take-off checks and the navigation system is on line – all with 15 seconds to go to launch time. The Flight Deck Officer (FOO) gives me the wind-up signal as I slam the engine throttle to half-power to check that acceleration time is within the permitted 3 to 4. 5 seconds. The nozzles checked I accept the launch by showing the flat of my hand on the canopy. The FDO’s hand drops and I smash the throttle forward. Ten tons of Pegasus thrust arrive in the small of my back in just under two seconds and the Sea Harrier roars down the deck. A quick glance at the RPM and temperature – looking good – and in less than three seconds my airspeed is around 90 knots and here comes the ramp. We’re off. As soon as I’m clear of the ramp I rotate the nozzles to 35 degrees down and hold everything, trying to resist the temptation to touch the controls. She reaches the end of the trajectory and I gently ease the nozzles forward, landing gear and flaps up, and the aircraft is now accelerating through the 400-knot mark before I can draw breath.

A quick radio call to the FOO – I’m holding her down to 200 ft until I’ve got 500 knots and now pulling back on the stick and pointing the nose at the top of an enormous cloud above me. She passes through 15,000 ft effortlessly and I roll over on my back to bring my rate of ascent under control. The FOO has given me a vector and off we go looking for the enemy aircraft.

The sheer distance we had to transit to the combat zone limited the amount of time we could spend on the task. We always flew as pairs so that we could give each other support and crossover. It also enabled us to put four missiles into a target as opposed to two with a singleton aircraft. Once in the combat zone the patrol was always flown in an atmosphere of crackling tension. I discovered muscles in my neck I never knew existed, from the constant searching of every inch of the sky for the enemy.

We could spend about 20 minutes as a rule in the zone before we had to return and that was usually preciously short of fuel. The recovery to the ship is always just as demanding and after an arduous patrol, it can be quite testing.

At two-and-a-half minutes to my ‘Charlie’ (land-on) time, I ‘slot’. which involves flying up the starboard side past the ship’s bridge at 600 ft and breaking downwind for the recovery. It is from now on that the pilot of a Harrier really has to switch on and keep his act together. The flight profile has to change from being fully windborne to fully jet-borne in a hover while at the same time flying a tight fuel-critical circuit to land on a small sometimes highly mobile deck.

So with my speed decaying through 300 knots, I bank down full flap, steadying the jet downwind at 600 ft. Speed below 250 knots – landing gear going down and 40 degrees of nozzle selected. Turning finals now, checking four ‘greens’ to indicate landing gear down and locked, hydraulics OK and duct pressure reading to my reaction controls. Halfway round the turn and descending, glide path looking good, angle of attack was pegged at eight units and power coming on as I take 60 degrees nozzle. Speed dropping through 200 knots, water injection coming on and rolling out wings level for the final approach.

Nozzles to the hover stop. The speed now reducing very rapidly and power being fed on to replace wing lift. I pay very careful attention to the angle of attack and the side slip indicator, as this is the most dangerous phase of flight in the Harrier. Coming up alongside the ship and I stabilise in the hover. I glance in-board to check the engine and fuel. The latter gauge is rushing down now at about 200 lb a minute as I hold nearly full power in the hover. Once steady, I move sideways crossing the deck edge, and once over my landing spot I descend quickly, bang on the deck, throttle slammed closed and nozzles fully back – taxi into a clear area where the aircraft is once again lashed down and I shut down the engine.

To go back to the combat aspects, we often had moments of bitter frustration when we would arrive over the Falklands just as an Argentine raid was leaving, or we would have to leave due to our fuel state just as one was building up. In addition, because of the distance to the three CAP zones and the number of aircraft we had, it was not always possible to cover all three areas all the time, and inevitably there were gaps in the aerial coverage and the Argentines got through. Having said that, it should be emphasised that the majority did not get through the defence rings of fighters, missiles and guns.

It was on May 24 that my fighting war really began and I fired in anger for the first time. I was flying number two to the Boss, Lieutenant Commander Andy Auld, Commanding Officer of 800 Naval Air Squadron, on CAP to the north of Pebble Island. We had just arrived in the zone when we received an ‘area warning red’ call from HMS Broadsword which was on radar picket duty. Using her pulse Doppler radar, she had picked up incoming aircraft and we were called in to intercept.

We were flying up at 10,000 ft at the time and were vectored to 260 degrees diving down to the surface at high speed. I slammed the throttle and tucked myself in behind the Boss, about 100 yards away. As we passed through 550 knots, we were down to about 150 ft and began a hard turn towards the rapidly approaching enemy. Suddenly the Boss called ‘visual’ and there they were – four Mirages coming in very low and very fast. (Lt Cmdr Andy Auld was interviewed in the December 1982 issue, p. 60, his own account in this series appeared in the September 1984 issue. Ed. )

As I picked them up, the Boss rolled in behind and fired both his Sidewinders in quick succession – both hit and two Mirages exploded in violent fireballs. The second pair broke hard right and I locked on to one of them. As I did so I saw him bang off his tanks and bombs to improve his manoeuvrability. As my missile ‘cross’ flashed across his tail, I heard the acquisition growl of the Sidewinder in my headset. I pressed the lock button, released the safety catch and fired. Fractions of a second later there was a flash from under my wing as the Sidewinder leapt off its pylon rails.

At first I thought I had missed, as the Sidewinder shot off to the right and was not heading towards the Mirage. What was not immediately apparent though was that the Sidewinder had already worked out the interception angle and was off cutting the corner to reach the Mirage. Sure enough, as the Mirage was moving across my front from left to right, the Sidewinder zeroed in on his hot tailpipe and impacted him.

There was another flash and a fireball with the Mirage breaking up and impacting the ground in a burning inferno. It was an incredible sight. In less than five seconds we had destroyed three enemy aircraft. Now for the fourth, but where was he? Suddenly I saw him under the Boss, heading west at high speed. As I still had one Sidewinder left, we turned hard and followed him. We were both going flat out for some minutes, with me just out of missile range. But we were by then getting low on fuel so we had to break off, but we heard later that he too had run out of fuel and had to ditch on his return home

On my return, I had regained my composure enough to begin to analyse how I felt. Naturally, I was pleased at having been able to help prevent a raid getting through to our ground forces, but at the same time I remember feeling horrified at seeing my first kill and saddened at having to witness and then be instrumental in the death of fellow pilots, albeit enemies at that time. No one really wins in a war. I recall reading a quote by the Duke of Wellington who after the battle of Waterloo said something like:

The one thing more tragic than defeat is victory. ‘My next eventful CAP was on June 8, the day Sir Galahad was hit. I was patrolling at 10,000 ft with Flight Lieutenant Dave Morgan and we could see the awful sight of the ships burning at Bluff Cove. The smoke was pouring out, thick and oily, and the entire after section of the ship was glowing red with the heat. It was about 1800 hours and getting dark when we noticed some Mirages having a go at some landing craft coming down from the direction of Goose Green. Dave rolled upside down and pulled hard for the surface.

I followed him down fast, but he was nearly disappearing in the gloom. It was very hard to keep an eye on him. I slammed the throttle to full power and aimed in the general direction in which Dave had by now disappeared. He must have been about half a mile ahead of me. My air speed was just over 600 knots when I saw two bright flashes from the direction of Dave’s aircraft-he had fired both Sidewinders. I watched the white smoke trails and they ended in two fireballs as the Mirages disintegrated and hit the sea.

Now where had he got to? Fortunately, he opened up on the other two Mirages with his cannon and I just flew towards the shell splashes in the water he was. As I approached for an attack. Dave was in the way, but fortunately pulled out and cleared from my sights. I pointed the missile at the nearest bogey and heard the growl in my ears as the missile acquired him. I fired, thinking he was too far and going too fast for the missile to get him. The range was two or two-and-a-half miles, and as I watched the Sidewinder’s trail it seemed to me that it flamed out about 300 yards short of its target. Evidently, it did not, as there was a blinding flash, followed fractions of a second later by the Mirage impacting the ground We could not stay around any longer as, again, our fuel states were getting low and we had to turn for home. We went up to high level for the long flight back to the carrier and the recovery at the end of that was not particularly easy, being one of our first-night landings.

With the Argentine surrender, we carried on the CAP as we were still not sure of the state of play. Even when the carrier set off for her return journey to the United Kingdom, we still mounted CAP sorties until Ascension Island, just to be on the safe side. Even there I was scrambled to intercept two Russian Bear reconnaissance aircraft that were snooping around the area.

I was one of the pilots to fly off Hermes while we were still in the Bay of Biscay to return aircraft urgently needed at Yeovilton. where they were to be prepared to be sent back down south again, this time in HMS Illustrious. On July 20 I was flown back on board Hermes by helicopter for the return to Portsmouth on the following day. Four weeks later I embarked on HMS Illustrious with 809 Sea Harrier Squadron for the return to the Falklands. There we acted as guardship until October, when the defences were able to stand on their own with the RAF Phantoms in the air defence role and Rapier surface-to-air-missile batteries fully emplaced.

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