cockpit. Soon after take-off the computer on the same engine ran down to idle yet again. In the dark night of the South Atlantic, Foster felt the tail of the aircraft start to shake badly. âOh God, I think weâve got a tail rotor problem,â he told his crewman. His mind immediately switched to the prospect of ditching into the sea . It only lasted a few seconds before he realised that in fact the adrenalin of the situation was making his knees shake. The movement on the pedals was in turn making the tail shake. Rather less coolly, Foster recovered safely on one engine to
Fort Austin
, which was now heading back north to Ascension.
Meanwhile, in the North Atlantic, Jack Lomas and Oily Knight were heading south with their Wessex gunships on RFA
Resource
. Having been the first to embark up in Scotland, it soon became apparent that they had departed in haste: for the AS12 missiles to be effective, the M260 missile sight in the left seat of each aircraft needed to be recalibrated. Fortunately, a few days later,
Resource
was sailing past the Dorset coast: Lomas and Knight returned back to Yeovilton for the necessary adjustments and rejoined the ship on the same day. The two gunships carried out a successful test-firing of four missiles just before arrival in Ascension.
Like Nick Foster in
Fort Austin
, Jack Lomas was going to war in style.
Resource
was essentially an ammunition ship. In other words, a giant bomb. Soon after heading off, the shipâs captain told Lomas about his approach to action stations. âThereâs two ways we can play this, Jack,â he said. âWe can be totally pucker, strip down the wardroom, close the bar, and take it all terribly seriously like
Hermes
. Or we can be sensible. We are sitting on 27,000 tons of high explosive. If an Exocet missile gets us, the next bang you hear will be your arse going through your head. You wonât need a lifejacket. Youâll need a parachute.â
The bar stayed open. Throughout the journey south, the Wessex team lived and dined like kings. This provided an irresistible opportunity for one-upmanship to Oily Knight. It was already a depressingly murky day when Knight flew across to the aircraft carrier
Hermes
in search of spares. After shutting down on the huge deck behind a row of Sea Harriers, he headed towards the little door at the foot of the superstructure and went below decks.
He was appalled by the cramped conditions he met on board the aircraft carrier. There were bodies asleep on camp beds along the corridors. Lunch on board appeared little short of dumplings and some sort of gruel. Returning to
Resource
, he typed up a âtypicalâ dinner menu, embellished ever so slightly with lobster, foie gras, steak and salmon, cheese, biscuits and liqueurs, washed down with port. The menu was then despatched to a âfriendâ on the
junglie
Sea King squadron on
Hermes
. Knight knew that morale was already low. He was delighted to hear that on receipt of his menu it had now plummeted below the floor. Taking the piss was all part of the game, according to Knight. Thankfully for the rest of us, his moment of comeuppance lay ahead.
A typical Wessex âflightâ comprised a couple of helicopters, aircrew and engineers, stuck on the back end of an auxiliary ship. Communication with the outside world was limited or difficult. Keeping up to date with events in South Georgia and the Falklands meant an almost total reliance on the BBC World Service news, transmitted over HF radio. Keeping in touch with the squadron hierarchy back at Yeovilton, let alone other flights dotted around the growing British fleet now heading south, was nigh on impossible apart from the odd few words on a signal. Flight commanders held a considerable degree of autonomy and responsibility as a result, relying on the ingenuity and experience of the entire flight to resolve unforeseen issues.
One such issue for Lomas and his team involved the flotation
Fort Austin
, which was now heading back north to Ascension.
Meanwhile, in the North Atlantic, Jack Lomas and Oily Knight were heading south with their Wessex gunships on RFA
Resource
. Having been the first to embark up in Scotland, it soon became apparent that they had departed in haste: for the AS12 missiles to be effective, the M260 missile sight in the left seat of each aircraft needed to be recalibrated. Fortunately, a few days later,
Resource
was sailing past the Dorset coast: Lomas and Knight returned back to Yeovilton for the necessary adjustments and rejoined the ship on the same day. The two gunships carried out a successful test-firing of four missiles just before arrival in Ascension.
Like Nick Foster in
Fort Austin
, Jack Lomas was going to war in style.
Resource
was essentially an ammunition ship. In other words, a giant bomb. Soon after heading off, the shipâs captain told Lomas about his approach to action stations. âThereâs two ways we can play this, Jack,â he said. âWe can be totally pucker, strip down the wardroom, close the bar, and take it all terribly seriously like
Hermes
. Or we can be sensible. We are sitting on 27,000 tons of high explosive. If an Exocet missile gets us, the next bang you hear will be your arse going through your head. You wonât need a lifejacket. Youâll need a parachute.â
The bar stayed open. Throughout the journey south, the Wessex team lived and dined like kings. This provided an irresistible opportunity for one-upmanship to Oily Knight. It was already a depressingly murky day when Knight flew across to the aircraft carrier
Hermes
in search of spares. After shutting down on the huge deck behind a row of Sea Harriers, he headed towards the little door at the foot of the superstructure and went below decks.
He was appalled by the cramped conditions he met on board the aircraft carrier. There were bodies asleep on camp beds along the corridors. Lunch on board appeared little short of dumplings and some sort of gruel. Returning to
Resource
, he typed up a âtypicalâ dinner menu, embellished ever so slightly with lobster, foie gras, steak and salmon, cheese, biscuits and liqueurs, washed down with port. The menu was then despatched to a âfriendâ on the
junglie
Sea King squadron on
Hermes
. Knight knew that morale was already low. He was delighted to hear that on receipt of his menu it had now plummeted below the floor. Taking the piss was all part of the game, according to Knight. Thankfully for the rest of us, his moment of comeuppance lay ahead.
A typical Wessex âflightâ comprised a couple of helicopters, aircrew and engineers, stuck on the back end of an auxiliary ship. Communication with the outside world was limited or difficult. Keeping up to date with events in South Georgia and the Falklands meant an almost total reliance on the BBC World Service news, transmitted over HF radio. Keeping in touch with the squadron hierarchy back at Yeovilton, let alone other flights dotted around the growing British fleet now heading south, was nigh on impossible apart from the odd few words on a signal. Flight commanders held a considerable degree of autonomy and responsibility as a result, relying on the ingenuity and experience of the entire flight to resolve unforeseen issues.
One such issue for Lomas and his team involved the flotation
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