Air War South Atlantic

The aircraft that were available were in several stages of refit, repair or still in build at the factory. Once we had managed to get them speeded through their work programmes, and get very early deliveries from British Aerospace, who managed to deliver aircraft well ahead of schedule, we began to consider what colour the paint scheme should be. We knew already that the squadrons at sea in Hermes and Invincible had repainted their aircraft, but beyond that we were treading new ground.

It was at this stage that we brought in an expert from Royal Aircraft Establishment, Farnborough who had investigated the typical weather conditions of the Falklands area for that time of year and advised us to paint the aircraft in a colour that would blend with that part of the world, light grey.

During the ensuing three weeks, a colossal amount of work was done, including getting the aircraft together. The Sea Harriers obviously had to be totally complete for war and the equipment acquisition problems were enormous. It was an incredible effort not only from within the service but from industry as well. Finally, on April 30, we were ready, with eight fully equipped Sea Harriers of 809 Squadron – it was short of the number I had wanted, but we had to leave two behind to form the nucleus of a training programme at Yeovilton. Whatever was happening to the frontline squadrons down south, it was important to continue training and development as far as possible.

We also experienced some difficulty in obtaining the required number of pilots for the eight aircraft. There were six RN pilots but we still had two more to find and had exhausted all RN sources, with the exception of those that were to stay behind and continue the task at home. The solution that we devised was to look for two current RAF Harrier pilots who had Lightning interceptor experience. That would provide us with the best option for a very quick conversion. Fortunately, we found them quickly: both were flying with the Harrier squadrons in West Germany and were posted rapidly to Yeovilton. During the next few days they were converted to the Sea Harrier, trained in our tactics, given some ski-jump launch experience at Yeovilton, where there is an adjustable ramp, and also taught how to use the Sea Harrier’s radar -quite a daunting task for them and one which they both attacked, achieving creditable results.

At last we got our orders to move – to ferry the aircraft to Ascension Island, using in-flight refuelling. We were to do this in three separate flights over a two-day period.

I departed on the morning of Friday, April 30 with two formations of three aircraft departing at a one-hour interval. The third flight of the remaining two aircraft left Yeovilton on the following day. My group arrived in Ascension on May 1 as did the second wave of three, while the third group arrived a day later. All aircraft refuelled a total of 14 times from RAF Victor tankers during the nine-and-a-quarter-hour flight. The refuelling usually took the form of tanking two aircraft first and then the third. All the tanking went remarkably well and no problems were encountered despite this being the first time that most of us had in-flight refuelled the Sea Harrier.

At Ascension, we waited for a few days and it was during this period that the Vulcan carried out the first of the long bombing sorties from Ascension to Port Stanley airfield. We stayed in very rudimentary accommodation at a place called Two Boats Settlement which was located halfway up Green Mountain. Work on the aircraft was kept to a minimum because of the constant volcanic grit and sand blown across the moon-like surface of the island. As soon as we could we covered all the holes and cavities of the aircraft with tape and polythene sheeting to try and stop this grit from becoming a problem.

At last, and somewhat thankfully, we left Ascension Island, on May 5. The Atlantic Conveyor was anchored a little way off the coast and we flew a short sortie from Wideawake airfield before recovering vertically onto the temporarily fitted vertical landing pad in the forward section of the ship. Aircraft were then parked between the two rows of two-high containers and locked to the outer edges of the deck. These later provided some protection for the aircraft – without them, the Harriers and helicopters would have been exposed totally to the elements.

We were very conscious of the need to keep the aircraft in pristine condition, and though we washed at Ascension before our short top they were again given a good washing once aboard Atlantic Conveyor. With us were 6-AF Harrier GR3s which had also tanked out from the United Kingdom, 4 Chinook and 6 Wessex helicopters.

Once aboard, most of the aircraft were covered with purpose made rubberised canvas bags. One Sea Harrier was kept permanently on alert, fuelled, armed and ready to be launched in the event of the ship being intercepted by an Argentine aircraft. A second sea Harrier was kept as a backup. As it turned out, the passage south was uneventful from Ascension to the total exclusion zone around the Falkland Islands. .

While on passage – it took 12 days to reach the task force and carried out some mirror work on the aircraft including completing the new radio installations. The most was made of these nonflying days by holding in-depth discussions and briefings on the tactics we would use and which we knew would figure out our future operations. The opportunity was taken to get. to know the pilots of No. 1 (F) Squadron and joint briefings were held. Most of them were travelling aboard the North Sea ferry Norland, which was sailing in company with Atlantic Conveyor, and they transferred over to us on occasion by helicopter.

On May 19 we began transferring the Harriers from Atlantic Conveyor to the carriers. Four of the 809 Squadron were to operate from HMS Hermes and four from HMS. I was part of the group aboard lnvincible. On that particular day, Hermes was close to the Atlantic Conveyor, has much further away. She was in effect out of range from a vertical take-off launch so I had to fly to Hermes, where I refuelled and launched for the longer flight to the deck of Invincible. All the RAF GR3s were taken aboard Hermes.

By the time it was my turn to launch from Atlantic Conveyor, it was coming on to evening, and when I landed on Hermes virtually dusk. After refuelling and by the time I came to launch, it was nearly dark and it was pitch black when I arrived over Invincible. This was a particularly interesting flight for me is it was my first for two weeks and was the first proper night I had done for some time. Fortunately the preparation stages in the United Kingdom, when the squadron has forming, I had flown the Sea Harrier simulator at Yeov1lton so the procedures for a night landing were reasonably familiar.

For the next three weeks, until the day of the Sir Galahad tragedy, I was in Invincible, flying a variety of missions; mainly combat air patrol around the San Carlos area. During this period I also did some ground attack/strafing and a night attack against Argentine positions on Pebble Island. lri this we were using Lepus flares at night to illuminate the target areas. On the whole, however, we concentrated on CAP and on playing our part in the air defence battle. The terrain is very similar to that of the western Highlands of Scotland and it was almost a case of deja vu. I and often ‘fought’ Hunters at low level in Scotland and chasing Mirages and Skytiawk A-4s over the terrain of West Falkland was remarkably similar.

I think most of us owe our success and indeed our survival to the training we had all undergone. It was of enormous to know that we had achieved the right sort of balance in this training. Much of the flying in the South A! Atlantic was done at extremely low levels and I was very surprised by the lack ot coherent tactics displayed by the Argentine Air Force pilots. They were rio. t going about air combat as we would have done and they made some very bad mistakes. Naturally, as soon as this became obvious to Us, it boosted our confidence no end. Here was the proof that we had been on the right track arid our, training and past experience all seemed to drop happily Into place. Coupled with that, the aircraft and went on all the time. It was a good combination of trained pilot and machine.

But while I can now sit somewhat dispassionately arid and analyse our training the performance of our equipment, and so on, one of the things that really sticks in my mind is the horrific sight of a ship burning, a vessel literally dying before one’s eyes. Sir Galahad Will remain in my memory, burning furiously with lifeboats around her and helicopters reaching in towards the thick smoke, trying to get the survivors out of harm’s way. Looking down from a Sea Harrier cockpit, knowing something of what was happening and not being able to do anything positive to help was a bad experience.

Other things I seem to single out mentally are the spectacular sights of aircraft exploding, especially when hit in mid-air at about dusk. The sudden violent balls of flame were bigger explosions than I had expected. The memory of the weather conditions too will remain with me. At times they were quite appalling, and we were attempting to intercept incoming raids at low level in these terrible conditions. It was hard at times to avoid being drawn away from the right area and then to have insufficient fuel for the return to the ship. Also (and quite contrary to the beliefs of the media and later propaganda), we operated at extreme ranges from the carriers, and it was quite something to judge one’s fuel state to do the task and then still _ have enough to return home and recover with only just enough to provide the minimum of safety margin. Happily, everyone got the formula right every time and not one aircraft was lost from this cause.

Only the Harrier could, and did, operate under these conditions. Although four Sea Harriers were lost, probably due to the weather and sea state, we were operating in appalling conditions well outside our normal peacetime prescribed limits by day and often by night too.

To evaluate the overall scene: from the Royal Navy’s point of view, the operation was a total success. Our aircraft were doing more than we had originally intended-for instance in air defence operations against fast attack aircraft. This role was not a specified original requirement for the Sea Harrier, but the flexibility of the aircraft allowed us to take it in our stride. It was so gratifying to see it all work out so well. If it had not; we would almost certainly have lost far more ships and men. Without any air cover, the amphibious landing at San Carlos might well have ended differently.

On June 8, I was sent ashore by Admiral Woodward to operate with the ground forces in order to facilitate the closer working of the combined operations. I_ had an interesting journey ashore – one-and-a-half hours in a Sea Kirig helicopter at night, followed by being winched down to the deck of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary Sir Bedevere. I remained aboard for the next 20 hours while she Steamed confidently into San Carlos Water in a fog that I can only describe as being a ‘real pea-souper’. When almost in the anchorage this bank of fog Suddenly rolled back and we found ourselves right in the middle of the assault force in San Carlos Water. I spent the next seven days in HMS Fearless, mainly assisting in the tasking and organisation of the Harrier ground attack missions.

During this period I flew up to Mount Kent, to the Headquarters of 3 Brigade, to talk to them and then went on by light helicopter to Fitzroy Settlement which overlooked the scene where Sir Galahad was Still burning. This was a totally new aspect of war. Up until now my contact with it had been distant and impersonal. Now I could actually see the enemy himself, in the form of prisoners of war, see the foreign uniforms hear a different language, listen to the sou. nd of the guns in the distance and see lines of tracer being fired at me. Again, I found it fascinating although somewhat horrific. Walking up through Fitzroy on a clear morning, I was going through the light snow when I stopped to watch a helicopter with wounded aboard. The first thing that occurred to me was how similar it was to the television programme, MASH. The doors of the village hall which served as the medical centre burst open and the medics poured out to help these very badly wounded men. I think that this was the first time that I had ever seen badly wounded men. It was nothing at all like MASH.

On June 14, I was sitting at one of the control desks in Fearless – most of my work had been done – and listening to tha reports being made over the radio. I heard the first reports coming in of the surrender. The first white flag was seen to fly, even before the last battle was over. From then on, more and more reports came in stating that white flags could be seen. It was rapidly developing into an organisational problem on a massive scale. Strange as it may seem, even transporting the Commander of our land forces, General Moore, into Stanley to accept the surrender was not the easy task one might imagine it to be. With the atrocious weather and the need for a helicopter, it actually proved quite difficult.

A short while later I took a helicopter into Stanley and became involved in setting up the Harrier base on the airfield. We literally had to pace out a suitable length of strip along the runway: not actually the easiest of tasks since there were by now some 5,000 prisoners of war on the airfield peninsula.

Stanley was fascinating, if very. depressing. Thousands of prisoners at the airfield, most of them young, all of them cold; dejected and in some cases clearly badly equipped. That sight will also remain fixed in my mind. Stanley itself was an absolute wilderness and littered with high explosives of one kind or another. It was all over the place – small arms ammunition and many other types of weaponry, including Exocet missiles.

The airfield itself had been well chewed up. by naval gunfire and bombs – there were craters all around. The Argentines had rigged dummy holes in the runway and I took a close look at one of these. While I was going along the road one day to the airfield, I thought it might be a good idea to have a look at one of their radar units just off the road. Just as I was about to set off to investigate the nearest one, which was only a short distance away, I heard a loud bang further down the road – it was one of our chaps treading on a mine. That put paid to the excursion I had intended. However, my visit did confirm that the Argentine Air Force could have managed limited flights into Stanley at night, using a Hercules on the north side of the runway. It must have been a very hazardous operation to say the least.

Initially there were bodies around but these were very rapidly removed, although a vast amount of refuse remained. The smell was awful. It remained with you all the time and there was no way you could shake it off. In addition the weather was terrible and that just made it worse. I was quite glad to be recalled to Hermes from which I was transferred to the tanker, British Wye, for the journey back to Ascension. With me were three other pilots, one of whom had travelled south with me in Atlantic Conveyor; the other two were from the original 800 Squadron. Also there were 12 of my squadron’s maintainers. A total of 22 of us were aboard for the journey back.

At Ascension, we transferred to a RAF Hercules for the flight back to Lyneham. It was quite the most uncomfortable flight I think I have ever had. On my return home, I went on leave for a week and_ then became actively involved with the work-up programme at Yeovilton for the new 809 Squadron, prior to embarking in HMS Illustrious. In early August we all boarded this brand-new ship and arrived off the Falklands towards the end of the month.

For the next two months, 809 Squadron kept two Sea Harriers permanently ashore at Stanley, alongside the RAF GR3S of No. 1(F) Squadron, together with three pilots and eight maintainers. We rotated the shore-based personnel every few days to give everyone a fair chance at stretching their legs. While ashore we assisted in the air defence routine of the island, and in addition the RAF flew from time to time from the carrier.

It was very interesting to be able to meet the residents Of Stanley and some of those from outlying areas, particularly from Goose Green and Darwin. Generally those from the ‘camp’-‘ that part of the Falklands outside Stanley – did not journey into town very often as communications were, to put it mildly, difficult. Nevertheless I met quite a large number Of the islanders and got quite a good feel for the islands.

By late October the weather had improved greatly and when we left, it was getting even better. The transition from winter to summer took a matter of minutes. The morning we were due to leave there was 2 inches of snow on the ground. By the time we left it was 22°C degrees. There is a saving in the Falklands about the changeable weather: ‘If you don’t like the weather forecast, wait 20 minutes. ‘

By the time we arrived back in the. United Kingdom all of us were pretty much in need of a rest. It had been a most extraordinary year. It was to be my last operational flying appointment and it was my first continuous combat experience in 20 years of almost non-stop flying. In a peculiar way it was most gratifying that these 20 years of flying and simulated war exercises had culminated in a tour of combat duty. I think the most satisfying feature of my flying career was that the training and experience of those 20 years proved to be right. There was little waste in those years and the navai system had ensured that we were correctly trained when the account was called. We did not fail. We had losses and that’s particularly sad for me. But it was not altogether in vain.

AIR WAR OVER THE SOUTH ATLANTIC WILL BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT EDITION OF AUSTRALIAN AVIATION. DON’T MISS IT!