Behind the Drag Curve: Anecdotes from an Aviation Career

Number 6: Camp(ain)ing on the North German Plains

The end of the Cold War in 1989 brought to an end the annual autumn exercises in what was West Germany. Every year the UK-based squadrons of the RAF Support Helicopter Force (SHF) would pack its rucksacks, guitars and other assorted essentials and fly to the North German plains in support of the 1st (British) Corp's task to stop or delay the anticipated advance by the Soviet 3rd Shock Army.

Chinook HC1s and Puma HC1s would stage through western Europe to operating areas centred around Paderborn, with a staging base at RAF Gütersloh, home to the RAF Germany SHF and Harrier squadrons. 1BR Corp's area had the Dutch to the north and the Belgians to the south, with a Soviet-facing front 65km wide and a rear area stretching approximately 150km back from the front.

Our role back then was relatively straightforward; to resupply the Army's fighting units - we were very much combat support. The concept of operations was simple: the rear logistics area would house the stockpiles. These would primarily be moved by road and rail but essential and urgent resupply would be done by Chinook. They would fly underslung loads (USL) along a unidirectional "racetrack" from the rear area to a forward concentration area, where the loads would be broken down into smaller parcels and the Pumas would then fly them to the units at the Forward Line of Own Troops (or the FLOT). Meanwhile the Chinooks would return to the rear area via a Forward Armaments Refuelling Point and go around the "Log Ripple", as it was affectionately known, again. And again. And again. A typical Chinook day would be 8-9 hours: my longest was 8 hours and 45 minutes and it was my first combat ready check, flown with a Sqn Ldr Pulford who went on to become the Chief of the Air Staff. I like to think I helped shape him on that long day). We would typically be moving 5-6 tonnes of USL each time, most of it "simmo", ie simulated, typically made up of sand bags in ISOs or on pallets. We also moved other USL such as CVRTs, fuel bladders, tractors, 105mm Light Guns, Bailey Bridge sections, and vehicles such as Pinzgauers and Land Rovers.

All the concentration areas and landing zones were procedurally controlled and laid out in accordance with a standard operating procedure and the Log Ripple - and other tasks - could be undertaken in complete radio silence. We knew where to go to collect and drop loads by a simple method: each helicopter displayed a large number in the windscreen. Approaching an area we would fly in over a "gate" on the ground where a controller called the Zippo would note our number and with large fluorescent hands wave us in the direction he wanted us to go. We would then be handed from one pair of waving hands to the next until directed to collect or drop the loads. Despite the number of helicopters and the often awful weather on the North German Plain in autumn, this system was robust and effective if at times challenging on the eyesight.

When we were contacted by radio we had to check that we weren't being spoofed by the Soviets. We didn't have HaveQuick Anti-Jam and Frequency Hopping or encrypted radios back then - instead we carried a folder with authentication sheets and a codebook called BATCO for coding and decoding messages. It was slow and difficult, especially when fatigued, and we were under pressure to respond quickly. Copilots hated this part of their duties and captains were relieved that they didn't have to do it. We also had a system of landing lamp signals in the event that we had a total radio or electrics failure when returning to airfields and defended sites: the Rapier units were always looking for trade. In these instances we would fly a specific emergency route and at the appropriate time flash the signal to say "Don't shoot!". Adding to all this fun was the fact that the 2nd Allied Tactical Air Force was busy burning kerosene in the skies above us as they fearlessly went to meet their early demise against the Soviet air defence batteries. Their operating doctrine was to fly very low and very fast but as a concession to rotary they would stay above 200 feet and we would stay below150 feet. This procedural separation worked but needless to say there were close calls and on a regular basis.

SHF also moved troops. We worked closely with 24 Air Mobile Brigade which had the task of plugging gaps where the Soviets had managed to break through our lines until 1 BR Corp could reorganise to counter attack or call for reinforcement, and countering attempts by the 3rd Shock Army to infiltrate behind our FLOT by use of their own airborne forces. The risk for the Brigade was that it was lightly armed and equipped and had insufficient combat power to do more than delay the enemy. Once put in place it needed quick resupply and quicker replacement by heavy units, ideally with tanks. The chances of success were small but we in SHF cockpits didn't sweat the big picture details and we thoroughly enjoyed the troop insertions, typically done in big waves at first or last night, avoiding the night whenever possible as we didn't have night vision devices. We could do night insertions and extractions but the landing zones would quickly be identified by the Soviets and obliterated by artillery and rocket strikes.

T-64 Main Battle Tank

In order to beef up the Brigade's capabilities we would fly in 105mm Light Guns manned by 19 Regiment, Royal Artillery. Initially these were USL but exercise judges would claim we were shot down because we moved too slowly in proximity to the forward edge of the battle area. To address this we started putting the 105s into the back of the Chinooks and we would aim to land on a heading that would allow the gun to be rolled out the back and be readied as we hopped a short distance away. They would fire and we would return to have the guns put back inside - this was a slow process and needed use of the Chinook's internal cargo winch. Unsurprisingly it was of limited tactical success: the Chinook had to land on exactly the right heading, the landing site often proved unsuitable and the offload and reload of the gun took too long. One bright Royal Artillery officer did propose a solution - fire the gun from inside the cabin! All we had to do was land at precisely the right spot, on the right heading, and survive the overpressure and shock loading to the airframe. We didn't try it although some lunatics did volunteer.

Another unusual and probably unwise task was minefield laying. The Chinook had an installation consisting of two delivery tubes that extended from the cabin over the edge of the ramp. In the cabin were crates of Bar mines and a team of soldiers would move the mines to the ramp, arm them and slide them down the tubes. We would aim to drop them in crops or long grass as we couldn't bury them and we had to hover taxi forward at about 5 knots and a rear wheel height of 2 feet. The aircraft weight was very nearly at the maximum of 22.7 tonnes at the start of a minelaying session so in the event of a power loss we were very poorly placed and we would have made a very large explosion had we been hit by enemy fire or crashed. The efficacy of these minefields was never questioned - the Soviets outnumbered and outgunned us and we were willing to give anything a go. Necessity was the mother of invention.

But it wasn't all about the flying. These exercises were also designed to test our ability to live in the field for protracted periods, using woods and german farm buildings as temporarry operating sites, moving frequently lest we establish an obvious pattern the Soviets would recognise and attack. Conditions were very different to anything I had ever experienced before. On my first exercise we were billeted in a pig barn. It was cold, dank and it stank to high heavens. One morning I was woken at 0400 for an early take-off. I staggered out of the pig barn, groggy with sleep and cold. Heading to the hose tap and plastic bowl stand that was our wash station, I saw the farmer's wife leading a clutch of chickens with a collar with holes through which the chickens' heads had been put. She stopped by our wash station, took out a knife and proceeded to snick off the heads of the chickens. The device held the bodies in place as they spasmed to a slow stop: ingenious, grim, and unforgettable. Shrugging at her challenging stare, I filled a bowl with hot water from the Lazyman boiler, got out my flannel, stripped to my underpants and washed for the day ahead.

Chinook HC1 of 18(B) Squadron at a field site

I had been warned that any fool could be uncomfortable and that I should get myself a "click-clack" folding bed to make sleeping more comfortable. I did and was very pleased with the ease and speed at which I could set it up and be bedded down. I was not so pleased on the third night when to the accompaniment of a loud ripping noise I went through the canvass and down to the ground. My how the others laughed and I had to spend the rest of the detachment on a borrowed roll mattress. Lesson learned! Going to the toilet was an ugly proposition. Back then Health & Safety was not a consideration like it is today and things were done in a rudimentary fashion for toilets. The engineers got a digger and dug a trench. One pee'd standing and squatted on the edge for No2s. At the end of the exercise the trench was filled in and away we went, groundwater contamination be damned. I recall one spectacular occasion when 2 men managed to lose their balance and fall backwards into the reeking cesspit. It was both horrific and comic in equal measure depending on which side of the trench edge you were standing. All those raised on portaloo-enabled exercises have no idea what they've escaped .

We learned to put up with these inconveniences and we flew many hours. After three weeks we were exhausted and the call of endex was a relief to us all. Despite our best grooming efforts we were a smelly bunch and the thought of warm rooms, porcelain loos and a beer was giddying. By now well practiced at breaking camp we were quickly ready for departure to the main operating base at RAF Gütersloh. The Officers Mess was a favourite of Herman G?ering and it was well appointed. As all the SHF and Harrier squadrons came back from the field the Mess became a cauldron of drinking, talking, drinking, singing, more drinking, and repeat. To cater for exuberant over-indulgence the toilets had "vomatoriums", big sinks with grab handles designed specifically for vomiting - clearly the Luftwaffe knew how to party - and they saw a lot of action (Ed: we're not proud of this).

Officers Mess, RAF Gütersloh

In the bar the atmosphere was like nothing I'd encountered before. Guitars and accordions gave the accompaniment to ribald songs from the SHF songbook, the recounting of derring-do got more and more outlandish, and when the Puma crews weren't baiting the Chinook crews they united to bait the Harrier pilots - and they were severely outnumbered so you can guess who went out the window the most. SHF were the hardest and bravest aviators and to prove this one particularly large example of a Chinook pilot stood on a stool and thrust his addled head into a ceiling fan. We watched with an appreciative "Ooooh!" as the fan sheared off, flew across the bar and sliced a Harrier pilot's head. This elicited an enormous cheer from the crowd and the two were bundled off to the Medical Centre for a quick repair and return to the bar. Another Chinook pilot was having a stern word with a Harrier squadron leader. I couldn't make sense of anything much that was said but something the Harrier pilot said had my Chinook colleague stumped. Clearly desperate to defend the SHF's honour over some important point, he balled his fists, leant forward to within an inch of the other's face and at the top of his voice yelled, "No, you!" "But why?" replied Harrier mate. "Because you've got big ears!" And that concluded the argument as far as our Chinook man was concerned and off he went for another beer. He had a point and the squadron leader duly went out the window. I shan't say anything about the SHF cannon that materialised late on other than it really, really hurt. This was the stuff of legend and, young first-tourist that I was, I loved it.

Moral of the Story: Adaptation, resilience and innovation is nothing new but as important as ever. The operational-level wheel is turning full circle as the UK looks to move back to a Divisional warfighting posture against a peer enemy, Russia. Plus, never pass fuel or porcelain.