Sweating the Metal

by Alex Duncan

  ‘Sir, if it’s about Friday night, I must say that I have no recollection whatsoever of what I said or did after 23:00hrs, so if I’ve been rude, I am really sorry. I probably said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have said. It’s no excuse, and anything I say now is going to sound like I’m trying to justify it, so all I’m going to say is sorry.’

  The words are pouring out like water from a dam; I’m delivering them at machine-gun pace. As I look for a hair shirt to don or a whip for some self-flagellation, he holds his hand up like a police officer halting traffic.

  ‘Frenchie, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but you might want to stop there before you incriminate yourself.’

  His face is a picture of seriousness. I’m still digesting what’s he’s just said and then he deals the hammer blow. The words come from his mouth with meaning and sincerity, but as crisp and flowing as if he’s reading from an Autocue.

  ‘Frenchie, it is my great honour and pleasure to inform you that you have been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for your actions in the skies over Afghanistan.’

  As soon as he finishes, the seriousness is gone; his mouth widens into a big beaming smile.

  I’m poleaxed. Dumbstruck. My chin actually drops, my mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ – and I thought that only happened in the movies. There’s a chair behind me. I literally drop into it as my legs buckle under me. That came completely out of left field. I don’t know what to say.

  He sits beside me and he’s grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat now. He’s delighted and proud because this is the first DFC for 27 Squadron since they reformed with the Chinook. He told me that Group Captain Mason, the Station Commander, would be coming to see me and that although it was his job to tell me of the award, he’d very kindly given that privilege to Dom.

  Ten minutes later, Group Captain Mason arrived, congratulated me and told me how delighted he was that the Chinook Force at RAF Odiham had been recognised thanks to the efforts of me and my crew in Afghanistan. Once everything had calmed down and I’d taken it all in, I asked Dom Toriati if there were any others and he told me, ‘Yes, there’s another one.’ I was delighted because I was pretty certain it would be for Morris. It was obvious – if I’d got one for what I’d done, Morris must be odds on to get one too.

  Sadly it wasn’t the case, and for all that I’d been riding high when I was told of the award, that really brought me down to earth again. I was gutted for him. Obviously you wonder in the run-up to the operational awards whether you’ll be in line for anything, and Morris had been geeing me up, telling me that he thought I’d get one and I him; I really believed he would. I’m ashamed to say I avoided him in the immediate aftermath of my finding out. Aside from the fact that I’d been sworn to absolute secrecy for twenty-four hours by the Station Commander and the boss, I just didn’t want to have to tell him.

  I was truly gutted, but that’s the lottery of the whole thing. And it is a lottery. So many people deserve awards, but the way it’s done is so political – who gets what, when and why. I was recognised for two of the missions I flew in my 2008 Det – the one in ZD575 when we were shot down, and for Op Oqab Sturga six days later. I feel enormously proud and privileged to have been awarded the DFC for those ops, but I couldn’t have done them alone. My crews on the two missions – Alex, Bob, Coops, Andy and Griz – were as much a part of what happened as I was; so to me, the award is for them too.

  Fortunately, the crew was acknowledged by the Guild of Air Pilots and Navigators, which awarded Black Cat Two Two its coveted Grand Master’s Commendation for 2008/09, at a lavish banquet in London’s Guildhall. The Guild had earlier recognised all of us by granting the Grand Master’s Commendation for 2007/08 to everyone at the RAF Odiham Chinook Force. The Chinook Force as a whole was also fortunate to receive the award for Best Unit in the inaugural Sun Military Awards in December 2008, beating off stiff competition from 2 Para and HMS Iron Duke. The award was presented by the then Prime Minister Gordon Brown, but we didn’t let that spoil the occasion.

  I think we’re all quite proud of what we’ve achieved as a unit at RAF Odiham and although none of us does it for the credit, it’s nice that the work that we do has not gone unrecognised. Since 2001, the Chinook Force’s pilots and crews have been awarded two OBEs, two MBEs, nine DFCs, four Air Force Crosses, two QCBAs and ten Mentions in Despatches. One pilot – Wing Commander Jeremy Robinson – has been awarded the DFC three times, a feat unequalled since World War II. I felt my DFC represented well-deserved recognition for 27 Squadron and our involvement in Op Herrick. I know 18 Squadron had been awarded four or five DFCs since the start of ops in Afghanistan, but as far as I’m aware, mine was the first for 27 Squadron since World War II.

  The boss said, ‘Don’t tell anyone, not a soul – at least for twenty-four hours,’ and of course, I was all, ‘Yes, of course sir. Wouldn’t dream of it.’ But as soon as I walked out the building, I was on the phone to Alison.

  ‘I don’t believe it, I got a DFC!’ She was shouting down the phone in the office and I’m saying to her, ‘Shhh, you can’t say anything, it’s supposed to be a secret! What about all the people around you?!’

  Eventually she calmed down, but I was so chuffed. I’m not saying we’re competitive or anything, but she had an MBE, so at least now we were on a more equal footing, even if, technically, my award trumped hers!

  I remember Alison had bought a bottle of Dom Pérignon when we were last in Paris; we were going to open it on my thirtieth birthday but we forgot. Then we said we’d open it for another special occasion. We were going to do it when we were selling our house but that fell through. Then we paid out £10,000 on brain surgery for our dog; we said we’d drink it when she pulled through, but she died. After that there was nothing else, so we kind of forgot about it. When I got home that evening, Alison had already chilled it so we decided to celebrate in style with the Dom Pérignon and a takeaway from our favourite Chinese. Best laid plans of mice and men again – the fucking bottle was corked!

  I said to Alison, ‘Keep the food hot, I’ll be back in five minutes.’ I jumped in the TVR and raced to Costco, where I bought another bottle for £67. Got home, put it in the freezer for half an hour and it was perfect. We got there in the end, and what an exquisite way to toast the award – a perfect Champagne.

  The official announcement of the latest gallantry awards before the media was at Colchester Barracks, home to 16 Air Assault Brigade, just three days later. I managed to blag the Squadron Range Rover for the trip; it’s pretty cool, a black 4.2 Sport with all the toys that we use when we undertake displays around the country. We were sponsored by Range Rover and the car fits nicely in the back of a Chinook; we’d fly in, the ramp would come down and out it would drive, ready to move the crews and the engineers around at our destination. It’s a nice way to travel – fly in and drive off to your accommodation or other engagement. I couldn’t believe how it worked out – my parents had flown over on the Wednesday for a short visit, a trip that had been in the diary for weeks. It was completely serendipitous – a rare coincidence – but it meant they’d be able to come to the press conference for the official announcement.

  I drove us up to Colchester early that morning. With Alison beside me, and Mum and Dad in the back, I felt like a million dollars. When we arrived, there were all these amazing people there, so many brave soldiers who’d won gallantry awards for some incredible things. Society today looks up to some bizarre people – Premier League footballers, models, D-list celebrities famous for taking their clothes off or having been on Big Brother, but there’s nothing heroic about what they do. I felt really humbled to be in the presence of so many real heroes, men and women who had done things that would make your eyes stand out on stalks. We were all called forward one by one while our citations were read out by Lieutenant General Sir Graeme Lamb. His speech at the start of the press conference was, without question, the most moving and heartfelt I’ve ever heard. This is what he said: />
  ‘Welcome to this day, particularly the families and friends. We in uniform know only too well the silent burden that you carry for those of us who serve this country. Tomorrow Operational Awards List 32 is made public. Today is about those from all three Services who have been recognised for their bravery. It is their stories that are on display here: respect that.

  ‘It is said that true riches cannot be bought – one cannot buy the experience of brave deeds or the friendship of companions to whom one is bound forever by ordeals suffered in common – true friendship itself is an emerald simply beyond price. Those in uniform understand that bond, those here and those they fought alongside recognise simple courage and we, the nation, recognise that these young men and women acted above and beyond the call of duty. “Duty”, a word considered rather old-fashioned, seldom heard today, along with integrity, honesty, service, sacrifice, but terms these soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines recognise, live and die by. These quiet and unsung heroes understand only too well what Colonel Paddy Mayne alluded to when he talked of ordeals suffered in common and what held them together.

  ‘These men and women know only too well the burden that is duty. They are no braver nor less courageous than the likes of Col Mayne and his forefathers, no less committed, no less human and they are in every way the match of those who went before them.

  ‘These young people, ladies and gentlemen, are the British Armed Forces.

  ‘I have read ill-judged remarks from casual observers, from armchair critics, that we are an Army that is overwhelmed, humiliated and downtrodden; that we are an Army that struggles to punch above its weight. Challenge those here who spend time – again at world’s end – with that claim. They are not consumed by trivial self-interest, barging others aside in order to gain some material advantage for ambition.

  ‘These warriors are the stuff of legend. They know the meaning of life and death, of standing by your friends, of standing up for something which they and we recognise as a mighty force and being counted. They know only too well just how fragile is the gift of life and they know only too well the human cost and will remember those, every bit their equal, who did not make it home. Those who gave their full measure in some foreign field: gone, never forgotten.

  ‘The likes of Sergeant Major O’Donnell, bigger than life, braver than a lion, saviour of others’ lives, holder of the George Medal – posthumously awarded to him today a bar to that award. A most gallant gentleman; I only wish I had had the privilege to have met him.

  ‘To those who returned: these young people are splendid company. Tough as nails, they do get knocked on their backsides every so often, but they do not lie there and whine that life is unfair; they get up, dust themselves off and get on with it.

  ‘They are the British Armed Forces; they defend this realm and our way of life, they are made of sterner stuff, and when asked will call out whomever, whenever onto whatever field of battle they choose. Look no further for your twenty-first century role models; these are your real heroes: they live among you, they defend you and your right to freedom and the freedom of those less fortunate than you. There are none better and I would wish to work with none other.

  ‘They are drawn from across this nation and from regiments steeped in history from Scotland, Ireland, England and Wales. Colour or creed matters not, but mark this: they are of the right stuff. If you want to see all that is good, all that is great in this nation of ours and its Armed Forces, look no further than on the pages of the operational awards you are about to print and be humbled. But remember also that what is listed here are those individuals who were seen on the field of battle and their actions recorded – there are quite literally hundreds who were not.

  ‘They make up our ranks, they are no less brave, they have done and continue to do their duty. As Field Marshal Montgomery recalled, “every one an emperor.” I salute them and those here, their courage and their sacrifice. I have a soldier’s deep respect for the awards they have received, and know only too well that they have been won by iron hearts in wooden ships.’

  After the speech and the presentation of the awards, there were lots of generals wandering around, including Air Vice Marshal Greg Bagwell, who came over to me.

  ‘So what next for you then, Frenchie?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m a QHI at the moment, sir, but I’m getting a bit tired of the Chinook thing now having done so many years. I think I’d like to finish my tour at the OCF and then go fixed-wing crossover.’

  ‘Well, if the opportunity is there, you should take it. I think you’ve done more than enough for the Chinook Force.’

  He wandered off and started talking to Alison. ‘You must be really proud of Alex. I understand he wants to look at a different career.’ Alison, having a blonde moment and completely missing the point, said, ‘Yes, he was going to leave the RAF, but the recession hit so there were no fixed-wing jobs outside. That’s why he’s decided to stay.’

  AVM Bagwell didn’t even break his stride and laughed as he said, ‘That’s not quite what he said to me but okay, fair enough!’ and that was the end of that conversation.

  It’s like walking a minefield when you bring your family or partner to an event like that and all the generals are there. My father has no shame – he has a brain the size of a small planet and he can talk the hind legs off a donkey. As I was posing for the national press, I could see my father in conversation with General Lamb, Rear Admiral Tony Johnstone-Burt (the commander of Joint Helicopter Command) and AVM Bagwell; two two-star generals, a three-star, and my dad. I was dying inside; the press wanted me to pose, but my attention was on my dad and the likelihood of him saying the wrong thing about me to any one of three generals who all have the power to stall my career before it gets off the ground.

  I looked at Alison across the parade ground and mouthed to her, ‘For fuck’s sake, sort it out!’ but she just saw me smiling and waved back. I found out later that my dad had said to Graeme Lamb, ‘Loved your speech, can I have it?’ which kind of caught the General on the back foot.

  In the end, he said, ‘Okay, one minute,’ and sent his aide-de-camp off to get the speech. I was so embarrassed! What with Alison telling AVM Bagwell that I wanted to leave the Air Force and my dad asking a three-star general for his speech, things couldn’t have got much worse!

  Interviews over with, we headed back to Odiham where the boss had organised some drinks at the Mess. I know Ali came with me but I can’t honestly say I remember much of what happened the rest of that evening!

  37

  BY ROYAL INVITATION

  I was looking forward to visiting Buckingham Palace on July 15th 2009 to receive my award. When they first wrote to me with the invitation, I replied by return asking whether they would permit me three extra tickets so that I could bring Alex, Bob Ruffles and Coops – the whole crew – along. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they wrote back and said sorry but space was really tight. They did however let me have one extra ticket; so, as he was my co-pilot on both missions, I invited Alex, along with Alison and my parents.

  I’d arranged for us to stay at the RAF Club in Piccadilly and we came up to London the day before so we could go out for dinner to a fantastic restaurant that had been recommended to us by one of Alison’s colleagues. We drove there via the palace, and as we went past I couldn’t see the Royal Standard flying and I thought, ‘Oh no, the Queen isn’t there! I don’t want to get my DFC from Prince Charles; I’ve met him twice already!’ I know it might sound stupid, and even a little pompous, but you can’t help the thoughts that arrive unbidden in your brain.

  On the morning of the investiture, I decided to walk across Green Park to the palace with my dad and Alex, with Alex and me wearing our No.1 uniforms and medals. Of course we hadn’t walked more than about fifty metres when the heavens opened, proving that you can never rely on the English summer. Luckily we managed to hail a cab to the palace. As soon as we got out of the car it stopped raining and the sun came out. Just to lift my mood a little fur
ther, as I looked up, the Royal Standard was flying, signalling that Her Majesty was in residence.

  The main gates saw the usual seething, homogeneous mass of tourists, a crowd two or three deep all craning to get a look inside or a peek at one of the Royal Family. There was a police officer standing there controlling the crowd and, after I showed him my invitation, we waltzed in through the gates. Walking across the main courtyard on the red gravel I had one of those ‘this can’t be happening’ moments, a kind of unbearable lightness of being at the thought that I was actually going into Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen.

  It was great having Alison there as, having been before to receive her MBE, she knew the score. She gave me the heads up on where to stand afterwards to get the best backdrop for the pictures. When you’re the centre of attention, you don’t get a chance to think about all the little things; it just feels like everything is moving at a million miles an hour.

  Once inside, it was truly breathtaking. Red carpets, huge tapestries, big works of art, gold – it’s quite unbelievable. If you had to design a palace from the ground up, you couldn’t do it better. It’s a fairy-tale place, the sort of image that little girls must have in their heads when they dream of marrying a prince. A short time later, Ali said to me, ‘Okay babe, this is where we part. You go that way and we go this way. We’ll see you later.’ She gave me a kiss and a hug and with that, I was on my own.

  I was escorted into another room by one of the footmen and the works of art literally stopped me in my tracks. Priceless works by Degas, Holbein, Cézanne, Monet and other great masters adorned the walls – I could have spent a day just drinking in the view. But there was no time to stand and admire the paintings; an official placed a hook on my left breast just where the corresponding ribbon would go. The Queen doesn’t actually pin the medal on to your uniform – she’d be there all day if that were the case, and she’d never get time to do her ‘Queeny’ things. She simply places it on the hook that sits on your chest; job done.