Napier - Tornado Over the Tigris: Recollections of a Fast Jet Pilot

First published in 2015 by
Pen and Sword Aviation

An imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
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South Yorkshire
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Copyright MICHAEL JOHN WILLIAM NAPIER 2015

ISBN: 978 1 47383 413 2
EPUB ISBN: 978 1 47384 567 1
PRC ISBN: 978 1 47384 566 4

The right of Michael John William Napier to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Design and artwork by Nigel Pell

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Contents

by Air Marshal G J Bagwell CB CBE RAF

FOREWORD

by
Air Marshal G. J. Bagwell
CB CBE

The day after Mike asked me to write this foreword we met by chance in Heathrow Terminal 5. The casual observer would have seen two old friends who had not met for a while; had they had the privileged insight from reading this book they would have seen two Cold War warriors who had lived through some extraordinary times and enjoyed a life and career that for many can only be realized in their dreams.

I had the privilege and pleasure to know Mike throughout most of the period covered in these pages, and I also served alongside him during many of his exploits, including spending time on the Goldstars in the late 1980s. His story transports us back to an era when the Royal Air Force was much (about three times) larger than today. It was a time when young men and some women (the fairer sex had yet to fully-establish themselves as the equal of their male colleagues as they have today) joined a Service that was more active overseas than back in the UK, and facing off against a Warsaw Pact, where only the fear of a nuclear exchange maintained a fragile status quo.

But we were under no illusion that the threat of a nuclear escalation would be sufficient to keep the Cold War below boiling point. And so we trained and played hard; we strived to be better than any potential adversary and sometimes that training and preparation cost the lives of our friends and comrades in arms. But this made us stronger, and all of us carried a sense of youthful invincibility with us wherever we went and whatever we did. We were the front line of defence, and woe-betide anyone who dared to challenge our supremacy.

After the Cold War thawed those same men and women came to be tested in real combat, rather than just the cauldron of major exercises such as the fabled and legendary Exercise Red Flag in Nevada. The very first post-Cold War combat took place in 1991, during the liberation of Kuwait in the Gulf War; here, the RAF, and the Tornado in particular had to learn, (sometimes the hard way), that previous tactics had to adapt to meet new threats and imperatives. Since that event, the Tornado has endured twenty-four years of unbroken operational employment in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo and Libya. And as I write, Tornado squadrons are flying combat missions over Nigeria, Afghanistan and Iraq. Although it is now forty years since its first flight, the venerable Tornado and her crews provide some of the most valued and feared capabilities in the air. New sensors, software, weapons and tactics, are melded together by crews who have over twenty years of operational knowledge and experience she may not be the most modern combat aircraft but there are many on the ground who owe their lives to its presence and intervention.

Of course the RAF today is much smaller than hitherto; in the 1980s and 1990s we had more Tornado squadrons at RAF Brggen, and more fast jet combat squadrons in Germany than we do now in the entire RAF. But things are very different today and peace dividends from the belief that state-on-state warfare is a distant prospect and the economy-stupid have combined to mean that defence gets far less of the budget than previously; it is a situation compounded by the slightly dubious concept of defence inflation, where we seem to get less and less for our money every year. But despite this we have never been more active and more tested by new threats and enemies who seek to outsmart and outthink us. Rightly, warfare today is a tightly controlled affair, where we play by the rules even when the enemy doesnt understand the concept of the rule of law or chivalry. We are different, and long may that be the case; this book explains how.

There are three fundamental loyalties that inspire and define combat pilots: their mates, their unit and their aircraft. Mike has brilliantly captured the importance of all three in his story and the bonds that once formed last forever. His RAF journey is very typical of many aircrew and he provides a candid insight to what it means to live and work in that environment.

Mike was always a true gentleman, but since this book focusses on his airborne exploits, it is his prowess in the air that comes out loud and clear. But Mike was much more than just a great pilot and operator, he was a comrade and friend to many and it is fitting that he took the time to write this book. Mike, those who flew alongside you salute you and thank you for telling our story alongside yours.

Greg Bagwell

DEDICATION

Nothing lasts forever. However, from the cosy family atmosphere of the bar in the Officers Mess at Brggen in 1985, those of us privileged enough to be part of Royal Air Force Germany at that time probably believed that the Cold War would do just that. In the event it was all over just five years later and now, thirty years on, the Cold War has receded in the public memory to become another semi-forgotten blemish on the course of European history. Today it is difficult to conceive the massive military infrastructure that once existed in Germany and which in its day seemed so permanent. RAF Germany no longer exists and its squadrons have long gone; only the concrete bunkers on its disused airfields remain, like mediaeval castles, as monuments to the military prowess of a bygone age - and a war that was never fought.

But a war it certainly was, by the measure of the human cost alone: the ten years that I spent flying fast jets in the Royal Air Force incurred a significant loss rate. I count myself as being exceptionally lucky firstly, to have achieved my boyhood ambition to be a front-line RAF pilot and secondly, to have survived that unforgettable experience to tell the tale. I count myself as being exceptionally lucky, too, to be able to meet my friends at occasional reunions and reminisce about the good old days. For although all of us who once served together are now scattered across the world, we still see each other from time to time; and when we do, the talk soon turns to RAF days. After a few beers we imagine that were back there in the mess bar at Brggen, young men again fresh from a Tornado cockpit. In our imaginations we stand clutching cool beer glasses against sweaty flying suits, the faint mark of an oxygen mask ringing our faces, while we swap stories or trade good-humoured insults. Meanwhile the ghosts of others, less lucky than we were, drift through our thoughts and conversations. And it is to their memory the friends and acquaintances I knew well, but who were not as fortunate as I was - that I dedicate this book: