CHAPTER 16

LEADING FROM THE FRONT

Now another story from Kosovo, that extraordinary episode when Tornados flew combat missions many hours in duration through European airspace teeming with civilian air traffic. This particular sortie was flown by an air commodore, which is a curiosity in itself. He was station commander at RAF Brüggen at the time; without having done exhaustive research in the area, I am fairly confident in saying that war missions flown by RAF officers of one-star rank must be numbered in single figures.

And that, rather than the details of the Kosovo sortie, is why I wanted to include this chapter – which goes on to offer a perspective on other higher-command aspects of Tornado operations. The writer is my friend Iain McNicoll, whom I first met in 1993. While I was at the helm of 31 Squadron, the four Brüggen squadrons spent a good deal of time on quite long detachments in the Middle East. During one of those periods when I was away, command of 17(F) Squadron changed, and the new man had already been in the chair for a couple of months by the time I returned and met him for the first time. It was a Friday evening at happy hour, I recall, when this tall, imposing figure came up to me with outstretched hand. “Ah, at last I get to meet the fourth,” said lain. I took the proffered hand, while pointing out that, being the newcomer, it was in fact he who was the fourth.

Having sorted that out we became firm friends, and with children of similar ages our wives and families got on famously, too. We never served together after Brüggen, but I had no trouble keeping track of him during subsequent years as he rose through the ranks, eventually to retire following a spell as deputy commander-in-chief of Air Command. He was perching on that lofty pinnacle during the time another Tornado milestone occurred – when the force was deployed to Afghanistan in the army support role. Contrary to many people’s expectations, that employment was outstandingly successful; perhaps, above all others, it crystallised the aircraft’s marvellous versatility. All in all, therefore, Iain is well placed to offer a fascinating perspective on aspects of the Tornado era which we don’t often consider.

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AIR MARSHAL IAIN McNICOLL (RETD)

My first flight in the Tornado was on 7 December 1981 with Major Klaus Kropf, German air force, from RAF Cottesmore on the snappily titled ‘transition-1’ sortie. I had come from the Buccaneer and this was space-age rather than steam-age stuff. After conversion to type, I became a weapons instructor on the TWCU at RAF Honington. Subsequently I served on 17(F) Squadron, 16 Squadron as flight commander, and 17(F) Squadron again, this time as squadron commander.

I later arrived at RAF Brüggen as (acting) air commodore station commander in December 1998 for my fifth tour on the Tornado and, coincidentally, my fifth in Germany – the rule seemed to be that if you had not been before you could not go again! The rank, rather than the normal group captain for station commander, was because Brüggen was by then the last remaining RAF Germany station, so I was the senior RAF officer in Germany. This added somewhat to my task, with links to the embassy, but the rank was also designed to maintain some influence with the army in Rheindahlen, who otherwise might possibly have forgotten about the needs of their light-blue neighbours. For example, I sat on the British Forces Germany health board, under the able chairmanship of Major General Christopher Elliott, who became a friend as well as a colleague. I also got to know Sir Mike Jackson, commander of the Allied Rapid Reaction Corps, and renewed my acquaintance with Major General Andrew Ridgway, Mike Jackson’s chief of staff, for whom I had worked in the MoD.

As I was getting to grips with the quirks of my position, and in the light of the UN Resolution on Kosovo and subsequent NATO decisions of 23/24 September 1998 and a ‘false start’ to operations in the October, I did not imagine that the station would soon be on active operations. However, I did maintain a watching brief on events through regular intelligence updates. And when NATO operations started on 24 March 1999 I knew that there was a strong possibility of RAF Brüggen participation. I expected that a squadron or squadrons might be deployed and asked the wing commanders to think – discreetly, since no instructions had yet come from the UK – about the practicalities.

RAF Harriers deployed, along with most of NATO, into Italy, and there was no space in southern Europe for us. But the military ratcheting up of pressure and the desire of the UK Government to do more led to Strike Command and Number 1 Group instructing us to prepare for operations on Operation Engadine (the UK code name) from our home base. The station swung rapidly into gear, and long days, with morning and evening executive meetings, organised us for war, took stock, and sorted out any glitches.

I had to decide who would be the lead squadron commander and found myself spoilt for choice. I opted for Timo Anderson, OC 14 Squadron, as 14 were the lead TIALD operators on the station. Greg Bagwell, OC IX(B) Squadron, and Robbie Low, OC 31 Squadron, acted in support. Regrettably, 17(F) Squadron, under Chris Coulls, was in the process of drawdown, being disbanded on 1 April prior to re-equipping with the Typhoon; little fanfare accompanied this as, with operations pending, major social events did not seem appropriate.

Three VC10s of 101 Squadron arrived as our dedicated tanker support and were placed under my tactical control. Initially, I was fully engaged in leading and managing the station – and in hosting the inevitable stream of high-profile visitors. Whilst these were genuinely welcome and very supportive, not least for the families, they were time-consuming. In the space of a few weeks we hosted: the Duke of York; the prime minister, Tony Blair; the secretary of state for defence, George Robertson; the chief of the air staff, Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard (Dick) Johns; and of course the AOC, Air Vice-Marshal John Thompson. The prime minister, very relaxed and natural away from the cameras, had an emotional moment meeting the newly born twins of one of the pilots. George Robertson starred; after being taken slightly to task by a wife for referring to the ‘pilots’ rather than to ‘pilots and navigators’, he revealed that his father had been an RAF navigator. The next weekend he wrote a newspaper article about his day and referred to the ‘pilots and navigators’ of RAF Brüggen. And I spent a bit of time with Mike Jackson and Andrew Ridgway as they flew in and out on their mission to prepare for potential ground operations.

But I itched to do more. So I started to get myself ready to participate and flew the necessary training missions and simulator sorties. Then on the night of 10/11 May 1999 I flew a mission as number two in a six-ship – two formations of three aircraft. My navigator was Pete ‘Rocky’ Rochelle, the 14 Squadron weapons leader and very much at the absolute pinnacle of his game – no point in me having anybody but the best to keep me out of trouble! Our call signs were the somewhat American-sounding Mustang 81-83 and the rather Japanese Honda 91-93, and we flew with two 101 Squadron VC10 tankers, each tanker supporting its own three-ship. Cast off over the Adriatic, we continued to southern Serbia – the bit between Kosovo and Bulgaria – where Rocky put a couple of Paveway II LGBs on the target. Then back to the tanker, with no relaxing, as the night trail and AAR brackets, often in cloud, were not easy. And so after seven hours airborne overnight we got back home for the debrief and then a well-earned breakfast. The mess staff were stars and breakfast covered a multitude of eating and drinking options. The rapport and banter between tanker and Tornado crews was brilliant, with our aircrew acknowledging just how the tanker made the transit, drop-off for the mission and subsequent pick-up appear completely seamless. But, although I joined the team for breakfast, I went without the alcoholic refreshment and, after a shower and change, headed for the office, too buzzing to go to bed.

I did clear my participation with AOC 1 Group – although, to be fair to him, that telephone call might possibly have occurred retrospectively! He was content, but he subsequently felt he should get further cover from the commander-in-chief, who was the recently-in-post Sir Peter Squire. Sir Peter then put a stop to me flying on operations. I knew him pretty well – and he me – from his time as senior air staff officer at Strike Command, when I had been PSO to the deputy C-in-C (I was in his office most days on HQ business) and also from his time in the MoD when I had been on the staff of the chief of the defence staff. I held, and still hold, him in the highest regard and he was, as ever, an absolute gentleman about his no-fly decision. We exchanged letters and spoke on the topic. He listened carefully and respected my view – but inevitably his own view prevailed. His reasoning was that I had a different and, in his view, all-consuming task, which was to lead the whole station in supporting those on operations. I said that I had not flown initially in order to focus on establishing the station on a war footing. This it now was, and working very well – and with brilliant commitment from all at Brüggen. In my view I could, therefore, both do that task and fly. As an aside, it was an absolute privilege to see how well the whole station pulled together, helped by a really good team of execs.

Sir Peter said that I had nothing to prove to my team. I did not at that time think this was my reason for flying, though the perspective of the passing years makes me wonder whether I wished, even subconsciously, to prove something to myself. I had flown over Iraq, but only during a relatively quiet period in 1993/1994, so this was my first war mission. In any event, at that time I felt very strongly that I needed the experience in order to make better decisions and to ensure support for the operation was absolutely tuned to the need.

Sir Peter also suggested that, because I was only allocated ten hours flying per month, I could not be fully current and/or competent for combat missions – or, if I was, I would undermine the rationale for establishing a higher minimum number hours for other crews. I demurred along the following lines. First, in order to achieve combat-ready pairs-lead status (the minimum to fly sensibly in squadron training sorties), I had just gone through the full work-up. From January to March 1999 I had over-flown the ten hours per month by a bit – thirty-eight hours in three months. Secondly, I had the great benefit of 2,500 hours on type as instructor, including rear seat, weapons leader, flight commander and squadron commander – and had had relatively brief periods off between flying tours (three years on each of two occasions). It was therefore credible that I could be current on a good deal less flying than would be required by a more junior and less experienced pilot.

It is interesting that he did not use the argument, which others subsequently did, that were I to be shot down it would be bad for station/RAF/NATO morale (it would clearly not have been great for my morale, either!) This was and is, as Sir Peter no doubt recognised, a specious argument; everybody is equally important and it is no worse – or better – to have an air commodore shot down than a flight lieutenant. There is a small argument that says the propaganda value of downing a more senior officer is greater, but I think we (the rest of you I mean!) could have lived with that. I did later fly as supernumerary crew in a VC10 on another operational mission (there was no restriction on being on this flight) on a ‘short’ route through central Europe rather than over France and Italy. That mission sparked my love of the VC10, later consummated, if I might use that expression, when I did a senior officer conversion before taking over as AOC 2 Group. At that time I did a full multi-engine crossover course at Cranwell on the King Air and then undertook mini conversions on VC10, TriStar, C-130J, HS125 and BAe146. I flew a good few times in the left seat of the VC10, always with an instructor, including AAR flights and a passenger-carrying sortie to Akrotiri and back. It was a wonderful aircraft, handling like a big Hunter and so easy to land smoothly – or perhaps the wheels were so far beneath and behind me that the crunch was not transmitted to the cockpit.

During the Kosovo campaign, Brüggen’s station commander Air Commodore Iain McNicoll meets the chief of the air staff, Air Chief Marshal Sir Peter Squire.

Returning to the thread, the station continued on operations and then deployed elements of IX(B) and 31 Squadrons to Solenzara in Corsica, where space had been found. But the operation came to a close on 10 June with the team there having flown very few operational missions. I flew to Solenzara on 18 June to see everybody, which turned into a most enjoyable social call.

Whilst acknowledging the debate that continues to this day over what caused Milosevic to cave in, the operations from Brüggen were a major success. Foremost, despite some of our aircraft being shot at by, and evading, surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft fire, everybody returned safely. We had mounted complex and demanding, long-range night missions from our home base and the station had performed exceptionally, and been extraordinarily well-supported by the whole community, both on-base and off.

Subsequently, I was delighted to be able to tell some of the participants that their contribution had been formally recognised: Timo Anderson with a DSO for his outstanding operational leadership; and Rocky Rochelle with a DFC for his outstanding performance as lead TIALD operator (not for flying with me!). In addition, through a bit of effective staff work and, crucially, Dick Johns’s help after the initial criteria were too restrictive, the NATO medal was awarded to everybody who had flown on the operation.

My tour at Brüggen continued, fortunately less eventfully, but no less enjoyably, until it was abbreviated by substantive promotion and a posting to the MoD in September 2000. But my involvement with the Tornado had not completely ended.

As deputy commander-in-chief operations at Air Command from 2007 to 2010, I found myself in the forefront of the debate about replacing the Harriers in Afghanistan with Tornados. There were only three Harrier squadrons and the continual support of Operation Herrick had resulted in the near loss of their aircraft carrier deployment capability; at the time there was only one pilot night qualified on the carrier. In addition, whilst the Harrier squadrons could undoubtedly have continued, and wished to do so, a large number of their personnel were breaching the agreed harmony guidelines by being deployed on operations for over one fifth of the time. I gained consensus in the RAF for a change, but the politicians, civil servants and other services needed considerable cajoling. The transition would be relatively expensive, since some modifications would be needed to the GR4 and new infrastructure would be required at Kandahar, so it was vital to get all of the MoD on message before tackling the Treasury (as the additional money would come from its reserve).

After a number of more or less acrimonious debates, not least with PJHQ, both with Lieutenant General Nick Houghton, as commander joint operations, and his lead civil servant, whose ignorance of military matters did not constrain her views, the secretary of state was finally persuaded of the merits of the case. It was now up to us to deliver. Fortunately, James Linter and the 12 Squadron team led the field and performed brilliantly – a standard met by each succeeding Tornado squadron from 2009 until the end of operations in 2014.

Some within the Royal Navy, when the Harrier was withdrawn from service in 2010, thought that the RAF had known that this was the likely outcome and had manoeuvred for it to ensure the Tornado continued in numbers and that carrier air power was targeted by the cuts. Nothing could be further from the truth; it was, and still remains a disaster that the Harrier was removed by the so-called ‘strategic defence and security review’ of 2010 and that Tornado numbers were also reduced. We can only hope for a better – in numbers and in every other way – F-35 and Typhoon future.

As a postscript to the ‘senior officers flying on operations’ debate, I should note that in my last two tours, as AOC and then deputy commander, I – and others – started and/or continued our encouragement of station commanders taking part in operational flying, and many did so over Iraq and Afghanistan. I always emphasised that they should only fly on operations if fully qualified and competent in every respect – and that I would be very unhappy if there was a hint that they were not both these things. It is notable that the USAF has never had any difficulty with senior commanders flying on operations and certainly many did so, and probably still do so, at least up to two-star level.

My long and happy relationship with the Tornado came to an end with my last GR4 sortie, accompanied by a brave and/or foolhardy navigator, Flight Lieutenant Borrow, on 24 November 2009 from RAF Lossiemouth, making nearly twenty-eight years on type. The sortie included a spot of practice bombing at Tain range; I seem to recall a direct hit, but my memory may be faulty. I did do some further service flying after that: in a VC10, on 26 November on a North Sea AAR towline; and finally in a Chipmunk, solo, on 23 March 2010 from the BBMF at Coningsby. That neatly bookended, after more than thirty-eight years, my RAF flying that started on 12 January 1972 – in a Chipmunk from RAF Turnhouse.