Sweating the Metal

by Alex Duncan Frenchie

  ‘First things first; I shut the engine down. Then I tried to radio ahead to Bastion – firstly, to let them know what had happened, and also so that Air Traffic could clear the area for our approach. Because we were so low, we couldn’t establish comms with them. I didn’t put out a Mayday call because I knew we could maintain level flight, so I broadcast a “Pan Pan Pan” distress call instead. I got a response from another aircraft in our vicinity and he relayed everything back to Bastion for me. The cab was really struggling because I was flying constantly between emergency power and maximum torque, so the remaining good engine was right on the limit of what it could do. I knew it was going to be a struggle to get above the wadi and across the Green Zone but I was confident we could do it – and we did.

  ‘I landed on at Bastion with a running landing and taxied over to the engineers, where I shut down and signed the frame over to them. I then ordered them to strip the cab of the medical kit and I signed for a replacement cab. Then we went across the runway to the spare, lifted off and went to one of only two spare refuelling spots. Helicopters were two deep in some places, because of Op Moshtarak. It was while we were refuelling that we all noticed a strong smell of hydraulic fluid; it’s got a pretty distinctive smell and Daz, to his credit, searched tirelessly for its source. He eventually found it in a control closet, just as we finished fuelling – one of the control actuators was leaking.

  ‘That’s serious enough that, on any other day, we’d immediately shut down in situ for the engineers to fix the leak – flying with it like that meant a high risk of fire. This, though, wasn’t any other day. Because Op Moshtarak was going on, we’d effectively be leaving Bastion with only one refuelling point available, so I pulled power and flew at a low hover back to where I’d picked the cab up from. While the guys moved their kit and themselves off, I ran across the runway to sign the second cab back in and sign out a third cab, then ran back and we all got in that aircraft. We lifted to the refuelling spot and filled up and on this one, we experienced no problems. So having fuelled, I landed on near the engineers so we could get the MERT on board with all their kit.

  ‘That took the best part of an hour and it was painfully frustrating, knowing there were casualties out there; although, thankfully, the US Pedro call signs had been scrambled to pick up our casualties from near Nadi Ali. We later learned the T1 survived, which was a massive relief.

  ‘The engineers told us that the reason we lost the No.1 engine on the first cab was due to mechanical failure in its accessory gearbox. That is quite literally unheard of – something that, as far as we are aware, has never happened before. The accessory gearbox measures the power going into the engine – N1 – and the power coming out of it – N2. Something that simple and it could have caused us to go down. Had it happened an hour or two later in the day, we would probably have lost the aircraft, possibly the whole crew as well. That was a really sobering thought. We didn’t have time to dwell though, and things were about to hot up for us when we responded to another call out at 12:47.

  ‘We’d been called out for a T1, a British soldier who’d been shot in the neck between Nadi Ali and Marjah – a real No Man’s Land. He was part of a recce team to the south of the Helmand River that was still engaged in an intense firefight with Taliban forces to the north, so our Apache escort told us to hold. I banked away and flew a holding pattern about five miles out, over the desert, so the Taliban wouldn’t hear us and know we were coming.

  ‘Looking at the map, I saw that our planned route in would take us directly over the enemy firing point to the north. That was an obvious no-no, so I decided to fly the long way round to our casualty, routing due south. I bugged the RadAlt at 10ft and, flying fast and low, used as many trees and compounds as I could find for cover – never the easiest thing to do in a Chinook!

  ‘With the weight of fire the ground troops were taking, we were never going to have a completely secure LS. My thoughts were confirmed when the Apache pilot eventually said, “Look guys, it’s really bad out there but it’s only going to get worse so we’re going to get you in now. You’re clear in.”

  ‘That was pretty much a guarantee that we’d take fire on the way in, but there was nothing we could do. I flew directly over the point where Chomper was shot in the head two weeks earlier, so I told Richie to man the port Minigun because we’d be coming in with the enemy on that side. I flew in hard and fast, sticking the aircraft on its nose and booting the tail left and right to scrub off speed at the last second. I came in south of the ground troops with the ramp facing them and touched down as close as I dared to the casualty.

  ‘The guys were off and on again with the casualty in quick order, but even while they were doing so the ground troops to my right were laying down a ferocious weight of fire to keep the Taliban’s heads down. Despite this, they were still returning fire and Daz, who was on the starboard Minigun, said he had a clear firing solution. I said, “You’re clear to engage,” and he opened up and let them have it with a few long bursts from the Crowd Pleaser. I was flying from the right seat, right in the line of fire, so I told Waldo to follow me through on the controls in case I was hit, and as soon as the ramp came up, I pulled power and lifted.

  ‘I transitioned away at 10ft as quick and as dirty as I could, with Daz laying down fire on the Minigun and Richie firing from the M60 on the ramp. That was no mean feat, because I was flying evasive manoeuvres and throwing the aircraft all over the sky, but it’s testament to the professionalism of the guys and their training that they were able to keep firing on the targets. They both ranged in on the Taliban firing points and took them out, which was extraordinarily brilliant shooting by them both. I then flew away as fast and as low as I dared. As I departed the area, our Apache loosed off a couple of Hellfire AGM-114N enhanced-blast missiles at the compound where the remaining firing was coming from and it all went quiet, leaving the troops free to tab out a klick or so into a safe area. Thankfully, I got us back to Bastion and our T1 survived, which lifted everyone. It had been a tough mission, the codicil to a day from hell, but it was a mission with a positive outcome all round.’

  40

  AS IT HAPPENS

  I had a great time working as an instructor on the OCF, but there was no ignoring the feeling that I was somehow missing out by being away from the cut and thrust of operational flying. Despite the satisfaction of regular flying and more civilised hours that I got from training the next intake of Chinook pilots, I missed being a part of 27 Squadron and all my friends on ‘C’ Flight.

  By June 2010, I’d made my decision and set in train the events that led me back to the world I’d left after my 2008 Det. Nothing had changed – same friends, same faces and the same boss – but instead of being there as a training captain, I was now a QHI, meaning I could train, evaluate and sign-off other members of the Flight as training captains. I hit the ground running and went straight into the work-up for ‘C’ Flight’s next tour of duty in Afghanistan. That’s how I found myself on a TriStar bound for Helmand Province once again, when the Flight deployed there at the beginning of October 2010. What follows are extracts from the diaries I kept during that deployment…

  OCTOBER 21ST, 2010

  What a hard couple of days this has been. Can’t say too much about the job that follows, but it had already been postponed once due to bad weather. Ended up launching a day later than planned. Saw a tornado in the middle of the desert on the way to this US marine base. Absolutely amazing! Anyway, landed in this base at 16:00. We’d spent the whole of the previous two weeks leading up to this mission, a major assault with British troops involving five Chinooks – one formation of two and a formation of three. I ended up as formation leader of the three cabs.

  This operation involved more than 800 people in support. There was a US marine battalion of light armoured reconnaissance vehicles on the ground – basically 150 small tanks. Above us there were two Apaches, two Sea Kings with sensors, two A-10 Warthogs, two F-18s, one Compass Call Electroni
c Warfare Hercules, one Spectre, two Predators and two B-1B bombers; all that to support us. We inserted more than 130 troops.

  Took off at 19:00 on one of the darkest nights I’ve ever flown in. Couldn’t even see the ground from low level initially. That was tough, especially as we had to fly low in the Southern Afghan mountains.

  We attacked a village next to the Pakistan border. The B-1 bomber dropped six tonnes of bombs on various targets around our landing sites ten minutes before we arrived. We saw the flashes and the massive explosions as 2,000lb bombs hit the ground. Then the A-10s, which have got the biggest air-to-surface gun ever built, strafed our LS three minutes before we landed to explode any IEDs that might have been planted. That was followed one minute later by the Apaches putting missiles in numerous buildings.

  Needless to say, we didn’t see even a hint of the enemy during the assault, thank fuck! We disappeared as quickly and stealthily as we arrived. Soon as we cleared the vicinity, the JTAC unleashed hell onto the target area and for thirty minutes jets, helicopters and bombers did his bidding and destroyed the target. Should emphasise that the grid had been observed for weeks and there were no women or children within a country mile. The only people there were all fighting-age males in what was identified as the Taliban’s equivalent of Sandhurst. Great result: thirty-six KIA, loads of drugs destroyed and ten tonnes of explosives captured – enough to make 2,000 IEDs. Two senior Taliban were killed.

  We extracted the troops tonight without any problems and flew back to KAF where it’s now 05:00, so I feel fucked.

  NOVEMBER 2ND, 2010

  Passed my 2,000hrs on the Chinook yesterday. Not in the way I’d have liked though. Was on IRT for 24hrs. Relieved Gez Wyatt and his crew at 08:00, a process that entails us turning up at the back of the aircraft with all our kit at the same time the outgoing IRT crew gets all their kit on its ramp. Once we’re all ready we quickly swap over in case we get a shout just as we’re doing it. We then prepare the aircraft so it’s ready to start at the press of a few buttons.

  First shout was at 08:45. Received a radio call from the Watchkeeper: ‘Do you know you have a shout?’ We run the 400m to the aircraft, get dressed in body armour, panting and sweating. When the cab’s turning and burning and the secure radio is online I call Ops requesting details.

  Their response? ‘Why are you up? There’s no shout.’

  Turns out someone got their wires crossed and called one of the many agencies for some details on something: ‘No panic, there’s no shout.’ This person heard ‘shout’ and called everyone on line… wankers!

  Next call was to pick up a British soldier suffering from appendicitis from a grid just south of Sangin. At that point I needed fifty minutes flying to achieve my 2,000hrs. We landed after forty minutes. I then had a total of 1,999 hrs and fifty minutes.

  Next shout occurred at 13:00; airborne at 13:09. Told to go to Marjah, a nasty shithole. An American soldier had been shot and had a sucking chest wound. He was choking on blood and breathing with difficulty. I was in the left seat; Nobby was flying from the right. I was encouraging him to go as fast as he could with some colourful expressions:

  ‘Whip that bitch!’

  ‘Thrash the bastard!’

  I wanted to get there yesterday. The cab was giving all she could but it wasn’t as much as I wanted.

  We had to wait for the Apache to establish comms. The Americans on the ground were struggling to answer our call. We were holding four miles west of Marjah. Had been waiting for ten minutes when called in. Again I encouraged Nobby to fly hard and make us a difficult target. Called for smoke and saw it.

  Nobby slowed down for descent but it was too shy an approach so I took control to reduce our slow airtime by five seconds. Fuck, it was dusty! Gave the aircraft back to Nobby and off we went. She was giving all she had – thrashed her like a jockey does his horse. People commented on our speed of arrival at Bastion. Sadly, the young US soldier died before we reached Nightingale. That was me at 2,000hrs and twenty minutes. A milestone achieved in the worst way possible. One I won’t forget.

  Trained Pete Amstutz today; he had a tough day on IRT. Taliban attacked a school with grenades earlier. It only opened a few days ago. He had to medevac ten children aged between two and four. Six were critical, one dead. None of us could believe that human beings, especially ones claiming superiority to the West, could do such a thing. Evil, inhuman fuckers.

  NOVEMBER 8TH, 2010

  Tired today. Started work 20:00 yesterday, finished 10:00 this a.m. Had to lead another op that went superbly. Planned it so there were no radio calls between the cabs involved, everything was done on timing, which I’d worked out to the last second. It was literally military precision in action. Unbeknownst to me, full colonel in charge of aviation was watching our progress on the Predator feed. We hit the target dead on time, right down to the second. As he walked away he said, ‘Well done guys, that was very slick!’ I love it when a plan comes together like that. The boss was delighted.

  Had some other good news. Looks like my report has made the cut for the promotion board. I’ll be one of 150 Flight Lieutenants scrutinised for potential promotion, one of two from 27 Squadron. The OC said there’s a chance that even if I fail to make this year’s, I’d be in good stead for next year. Am currently riding an ‘A-’, provided I don’t fuck up. It means appearing twice on the board, but with those marks, plus my DFC, it should help towards promotion. We’ll see; Strategic Defence Review ahead so nothing certain.

  NOVEMBER 11TH, 2010

  We get up at 06:50 to make morning brief at 07:30. Today we’re on the IRT out of Bastion. Brief consists of Met for the day, summary of last 24hrs of ops and various contacts with enemy. Also an intelligence brief (which, to be fair, isn’t!).

  After, we drive to Safety Equipment Section to collect our aircrew flying gear (jacket with armour plates, emergency radios, survival bag). From there, drive to the armoury to draw our personal rifles and pistols. Then make our way to the aircraft where the previous IRT crew awaits eagerly to swap duties. They had busy 24hrs with three shouts. After aircraft handover we position all our flying gear and ‘cock’ the aircraft, so a minimum of button presses to start whenever we’re scrambled.

  Make our way back to IRT tent, which is kitted out to be as relaxing as possible between each very intense period of work. Put on Gavin and Stacey DVD, chill out, laughing out loud for two episodes. Halfway through the third episode, phone rings – we leap into action.

  I grab the phone to get the details – a badly injured civilian in Lashkar Gah – while the rest of the crew run outside. I have to catch up over a 400m run across dirt tracks, between hangars and onto the pan to get to the back of the aircraft. Do quick walk-around, flicking two aerials at front as per my superstitious habit, while crew rush in and get ready. Meanwhile MERT and ground force protection arrive.

  I jump in behind them and make my way to front. Fit my anti-fragment vest followed by armour-plated jacket, remove clip from my pistol to check, then reseat it and holster weapon on my chest. Slip my helmet on and jump in the left-hand seat; co-pilot is already in the right-hand seat, starting the engines. Once start-up’s complete, we’ve all the details of the casualty along with his status and the grid. This one doesn’t sound very good. From experience, I know there’s little chance we’ll get to him in time. Nonetheless we’re ready in seven minutes and taxi out.

  Area of Operation is busy today so our Apache escort’s already overhead, engaging enemy. We route on our own, at height initially, to cross the most dangerous part out of reach of enemy small arms. Eventually descend to low level for final run into HLS. Land with no problems, but after a couple of minutes on the ground we’re told the casualty was returned to the hospital as he’s too unstable to travel by air. We read into this that he was on his last breaths; we’ve all seen it too often before. Depart Lash and return to Bastion without incident.

  Once we shed our kit and re-cock the aircraft it’s back to the ten
t. Pick up with Gavin and Stacey again. 14:39 and phone rings; airborne by 14:46. This time shout’s for two casualties in Green Zone north of Nadi Ali. Both are children who walked on an IED laid by Taliban.

  Pick-up area is crawling with enemy forces so I give crewmen orders regarding response to enemy fire – if they see a threat they’ve my authority to engage. Apache meets us overhead and comes down closely on our wing, bringing his formidable array of weapons to bear on anyone who might dare engage us. It works, as we don’t take any fire. The landing is a difficult one in a tiny site with a lot of dust. Once it clears, stretcher-bearers approach from the front. The second has a blanket covering someone very small. Our hearts sink; we hate to pick up children. We’re sent to a hospital thirty minutes south that is ready to receive both children for surgery.

  We thrash the aircraft to get there as fast as possible. Struggle to get radio communication with destination airfield so I have to make a tough decision: make an unauthorised approach to an American airfield, or hold. Holding not an option due to condition of children, so continue approach parallel to a cargo plane on finals to the runway. Wonder what they thought of the British Chinook flying in formation with them. Finally US controller comes on frequency asking our intentions and he’s quickly told. Doctor passes a piece of paper forward to me with casualty status to pass to hospital. I read and gulp: one seriously wounded eight-year-old male and a dead four-year-old girl. Land on hospital LS and unload casualties, waiting for the doctors to do their handover to the surgical team. Once everybody’s onboard, we start a long and silent thirty-minute journey back to Bastion.