FAST JETS AND OTHER BEASTS
FAST JETS AND OTHER BEASTS
PERSONAL INSIGHTS FROM THE COCKPIT OF THE HUNTER, PHANTOM, JAGUAR, TORNADO AND MANY MORE
IAN HALL
Published by
Grub Street
4 Rainham Close
London SW11 6SS
Copyright Grub Street 2017
Copyright text Ian Hall 2017
A CIP record for this title is available from the British Library
ISBN-13: 9-781-910690-42-0
eISBN-13: 9-781-911621-55-3
Mobi ISBN-13: 9-781-911621-55-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
Design by Daniele Roa
Publishers Note:
Unless credited on the specific page, all photographs were taken by, or form part of the authors collection.
The cartoons on pages are by the late Ken Aitken.
INTRODUCTION
A CAREER ON THE WING
A working life in aviation. Mostly on fast jets but, towards the end, with the airlines. Such vivid memories, and so much excitement. Jets flown; places visited; people on whom my life depended and with whom I became incredibly close. Friends lost and grieved for. Crazy events and eccentric characters. Job satisfaction and frustration.
I started off flying Hunters on 208 Squadron, then moved to ground-attack Phantoms with 54 Squadron. Another tour on Hunters, this time instructing on 234 Squadron at the , was followed by a short-notice posting to 20 Squadron, flying Jaguars. Then came an interlude flying the Northrop F-5A with 336 Skvadron of the Royal Norwegian Air Force, following which I returned to the Jaguar as a flight commander on 6 Squadron. My final flying tour in the RAF was as the squadron commander of 31 Squadron, equipped with the Tornado GR1. This varied and slightly unusual career pattern came during a period when the RAF, driven by changes in government and defence policy, was continually chopping and changing its equipments and roles. I know many current operators who have spent their entire career on a single type, occasionally moving seamlessly from squadron to squadron. I, however, never flew the same type two tours running, which certainly had much to be said for it in terms of interest and variety. But it also resulted in my spending an inordinate amount of time on conversion courses, as well as on refresher courses for types I was returning to. Leaving aside the fact that this must have been very expensive for the RAF, it had a disadvantage in that I never had the pleasure of arriving on a squadron as a current expert.
All that made for seven flying tours, but I also did my time on the ground. During those three tours I saw all sorts of different aspects of the fast-jet game; from the political viewpoint it all looks different. But during those interludes I nevertheless managed to fly in types Id always fancied trying, and was constantly amazed at seeing at first hand the various capabilities Id previously heard of only by repute.
Civil aviation brought a whole new set of experiences. A less frantic, more orderly life than the military? I certainly expected that would be the case, but there turned out to be just as many crazily unexpected episodes on the other side of the fence. As well as at least as many odd scenarios and characters. Indeed, when I mentioned out of courtesy to the director of flight operations at my last airline that I was about to have a book published, his response was: You should write about this lot there would be hundreds of stories there.
Although most of the tales which follow are from my own archive, I dont presume to have a monopoly of flying experiences. Therefore Ive leavened the text with a few stories from friends and acquaintances. Truly, during our flying times, there was a remarkable amount going on.
And throughout all this mayhem I towed with me my wife and, in due course, my children. A life with the fast jets affects, to perhaps an unsuspected degree, the pilots nearest and dearest. But before they came on the scene lets return to 1968 and relive the feeling of emerging from the far end of the sausage machine which was the RAFs Flying Training Command. The skies ahead were blue and our horizons were unlimited.
CHAPTER 1
IM AN AFME HUNTER PILOT...
What a milestone! The point in 1968 at which I and my young colleagues were to be sent onward from advanced flying training to our operational conversion units () role doubted that we would have a marvellous time tearing around at low level and firing ordnance at ground targets. But it may surprise readers to learn that not all of our friends who were sent to Lightnings were quite as delighted. Of course there were some who had never aspired to fly anything else, and quite clearly the aircraft was an impressively exciting beast. But there was a perception amongst many that the air defence role was, despite the aircrafts proclivity to catching fire and running out of fuel, somewhat boring. Most of us imagined that a Lightning pilot spent his time at high altitude, where there was no sensation of speed, flying on instruments and obeying the instructions of a ground controller. In our ignorance, we never considered the satisfying and demanding aspects of the flying, nor the opportunities for postings to Germany, Cyprus or Singapore. I certainly didnt fancy the Lightning at the time.
Anyway, back when we youngsters arrived at 229 OCU at RAF Chivenor for our next course, all our preconceived prejudices seemed to be confirmed. For those of us headed for Hunters, the unit was an operational conversion unit pure and simple. We were taught all the various facets of the DFGA role: low-level navigation and attack; air-to ground weapons delivery of all types; air-to-air combat and gunnery; and so on. The pre-Buccaneer chaps (our Valley course was the first from which a couple of first-tourists were sent to the RAFs latest jet) got all the low-level stuff but not the air-to-air, and seemed at the time to be generally content with that.
But the pre-Lightning boys appeared to receive the rough end of the stick. There was no low-level fun for them, and their course flying hours were made up with extra instrument practice and other beasts instrument practice and night flying. Neither did their night work seem terribly interesting; there was no attempt to introduce practice interceptions, so they simply bored holes in the sky on high-level navigation exercises. Tough luck, thought we DFGA types. We were enjoying ourselves, and that was all that mattered.