canisters that were normally plugged into the hub of each main wheel on the Wessex. These canisters contained a giant balloon that fired off, just like an airbag, in the event of a ditching at sea. The priority was not so much to save the aircraft but to keep the aircraft afloat long enough to improve the odds of escape for aircrew and passengers. The previous summer off the coast of the USA, a Wessex flown by Lieutenant Phil Doyne-Ditmas had suffered a tail rotor failure and ditched into the sea. Although only one âflot canâ fired, causing the aircraft to flip upside down under water, all of the crew and passengers managed to escape. The problem for Lomas was that it was impossible to fit the flot cans as well as the 2-inch rocket platform. Without a commanding officer or senior pilot to talk to, Lomas flew across to
Fearless
to talk to former boss Tim Stanning. âWhat the hell am I supposed to do, Tim? Our rocketry kit has been aligned. But it doesnât seem a terribly sensible idea to be flying around the Bay of Biscay over water without flot cans.â
Stanningâs reply was straightforward. âYouâre a gunship. Keep it that way.â Sometimes it was good to have another experienced
junglie
around.
Even though the Royal Navy had been flying Wessex helicopters at sea for seventeen years, there were always situations that tested the initiative and creativity of the crew. Some procedures were made up on the hoof. One of the key threats the Wessex was thought likely to face, should the task force see action, came from fixed-wing aircraft. With his background as a Helicopter Warfare Instructor (HWI), Lomas and his team decided to turn the attack capabilities of the Wessex into defence. Instead of firing the rockets downwards onto a ground target, what would happen if they were pointed upwards at an incoming jet?
Lomas, Knight and their two other pilots, Sub-Lieutenants Richard âNoddyâ Morton and Steve âWannafightâ Judd, had a fantastic time experimenting with flying past the ship at low level, raising the aircraft nose slightly, and firing off pairs of rockets. The rockets were designed to explode either on impact or after a period of time. Making notes after each firing, the crews soon worked out that they could get the rockets to explode fairly reliably a couple of miles away at about 500 feet. Although the likelihood of actually hitting an attacking jet was zero â it was bad enough trying to hit a stationary tank â it might make the pilotâs eyes water. And it was good for morale.
Chapter 4
Not a âfirst touristâ day: 21 April 1982
THE SAS NEVER do things the easy way. Inserting a troop onto the top of the remote and inhospitable Fortuna Glacier in appalling weather was always going to push the survival skills of Britainâs finest to the limit. And that was assuming the 845 Squadron Wessex pilots could get them up there in the first place
.
The most challenging element of an ambitious mission plan was to send the helicopters up there in close formation at night. As if the plan wasnât tough enough already, a practice formation session confirmed that night-time was not the time to do it. The SAS plan launched in daylight marked the beginning of Operation Paraquat to take back South Georgia
.
Two weeks after the initial Argentine occupation of South Georgia and the Falklands, the whole venture remained in the realm of a good April Foolsâ joke. Many people still thought it would turn out to be just a bit of fun. Before long the politicians would get their act together and everyone could come home again. It was about to become very clear indeed that this was not to be the case.
Like Hector Heathcote, Mike Tidd was also in Northern Ireland when it all kicked off on Friday 2 April. He was surprised and disappointed not to get a phone call from Yeovilton asking him to get back fast. Eager not to miss out on the fun, he phoned in to
Fearless
to talk to former boss Tim Stanning. âWhat the hell am I supposed to do, Tim? Our rocketry kit has been aligned. But it doesnât seem a terribly sensible idea to be flying around the Bay of Biscay over water without flot cans.â
Stanningâs reply was straightforward. âYouâre a gunship. Keep it that way.â Sometimes it was good to have another experienced
junglie
around.
Even though the Royal Navy had been flying Wessex helicopters at sea for seventeen years, there were always situations that tested the initiative and creativity of the crew. Some procedures were made up on the hoof. One of the key threats the Wessex was thought likely to face, should the task force see action, came from fixed-wing aircraft. With his background as a Helicopter Warfare Instructor (HWI), Lomas and his team decided to turn the attack capabilities of the Wessex into defence. Instead of firing the rockets downwards onto a ground target, what would happen if they were pointed upwards at an incoming jet?
Lomas, Knight and their two other pilots, Sub-Lieutenants Richard âNoddyâ Morton and Steve âWannafightâ Judd, had a fantastic time experimenting with flying past the ship at low level, raising the aircraft nose slightly, and firing off pairs of rockets. The rockets were designed to explode either on impact or after a period of time. Making notes after each firing, the crews soon worked out that they could get the rockets to explode fairly reliably a couple of miles away at about 500 feet. Although the likelihood of actually hitting an attacking jet was zero â it was bad enough trying to hit a stationary tank â it might make the pilotâs eyes water. And it was good for morale.
Chapter 4
Not a âfirst touristâ day: 21 April 1982
THE SAS NEVER do things the easy way. Inserting a troop onto the top of the remote and inhospitable Fortuna Glacier in appalling weather was always going to push the survival skills of Britainâs finest to the limit. And that was assuming the 845 Squadron Wessex pilots could get them up there in the first place
.
The most challenging element of an ambitious mission plan was to send the helicopters up there in close formation at night. As if the plan wasnât tough enough already, a practice formation session confirmed that night-time was not the time to do it. The SAS plan launched in daylight marked the beginning of Operation Paraquat to take back South Georgia
.
Two weeks after the initial Argentine occupation of South Georgia and the Falklands, the whole venture remained in the realm of a good April Foolsâ joke. Many people still thought it would turn out to be just a bit of fun. Before long the politicians would get their act together and everyone could come home again. It was about to become very clear indeed that this was not to be the case.
Like Hector Heathcote, Mike Tidd was also in Northern Ireland when it all kicked off on Friday 2 April. He was surprised and disappointed not to get a phone call from Yeovilton asking him to get back fast. Eager not to miss out on the fun, he phoned in to
Similar Books
