James Barrington - Pandemic

‘Already doing it.’

‘Thanks.’

Then Moore looked at the chart his assistant was holding, glanced across at the airfield details listed in the ERS, nodded and transmitted again.

‘Tiger Two, Homer. Suggested diversion airfield is Brindisi-Casale. Runway is eight thousand six hundred feet in length, airfield location approximately one nine zero range fifty from your present position.’

‘Roger,’ Richter said. ‘Turning port onto one nine zero and starting a cruise descent.’

‘Initial Contact Frequency for Brindisi-Casale Approach Control is three seven six decimal eight, but suggest you call them first on Guard.’

‘Roger.’

Commander (Air), who’d been up in Flyco when Richter made the Pan call, had immediately left his position and arrived at that moment in the Operations Room.

‘Where is he?’ he demanded.

Moore glanced round then pointed over to the southwestern side of his radar screen. ‘Here, sir. He’s about to call Brindisi.’

As Moore spoke, Richter’s voice echoed round the Ops Room from the Guard speaker. ‘Brindisi, Brindisi, this is Pan aircraft Tiger Two.’

In the Operations Room, a long silence followed, because the ship was out of radio range of the airfield, but Richter and Splot in Tiger One heard the reply clearly, and the Senior Pilot then relayed the airfield’s response to the Invincible .

‘Pan aircraft Tiger Two, this is Brindisi Approach. What is your emergency, and what is your position, level, aircraft type and number of persons on board?’ The Italian’s English was perfectly clear and understandable – English being the international language of aviation and air traffic control – but with a quite unmistakable accent.

‘Brindisi, Tiger Two is a British Royal Navy single-crew Harrier aircraft with a rough-running engine. Position approximately forty miles north of you, in descent passing Flight Level two zero zero.’

‘Roger, Tiger Two. What are your intentions?’

‘Request navigation assistance and a straight-in approach to a priority landing.’

‘Roger. You are identified by your position report and secondary radar return. Steer one eight five and continue descent to Flight Level one zero zero. Standby to copy the weather and airfield missed approach procedure.’

‘Tiger Two is ready to copy.’

Tiger One was still at thirty-five thousand feet, holding clear of Italian airspace and loitering to relay information to the ship.

‘Homer, this is Tiger One relaying for Tiger Two on Guard. Two is in descent out of twenty thousand down to ten, and receiving nav assistance from Brindisi Approach.’

Richter saw the airfield from twelve thousand feet and fifteen miles, and throttled back even further.

‘Brindisi, Tiger Two is now visual with the field.’

‘Roger, Tiger Two. Report approaching five thousand feet on the airfield QNH with Tower on two five seven decimal eight. We have no traffic in the circuit or local area.’

As Richter pulled his Sea Harrier round in a gentle turn to starboard, he glanced down and in front of his aircraft at the airfield below him. The Italians were obviously taking no chances: he could see an ambulance waiting near the control tower, and at the holding point for the main runway two emergency vehicles – known in the UK as ‘Crash’ and ‘Rescue’ – were already in position, blue and red lights flashing. ‘Crash’ was a primary unit – a first-line heavy fire engine designed to dowse aviation-fuel fires using a foam compound known as A Triple F (Aqueous Film-Forming Foam) – flanked by ‘Rescue’, a small four-wheel-drive go-anywhere vehicle.

Inside seven miles and nicely settled on the runway’s extended centreline, but well above the normal glide path to provide the margin of safety a prudent pilot would want with an engine that might fail at any moment, Richter hauled the Harrier’s speed back to below two hundred knots. Once his speed was within the aircraft’s parameters, he dropped the landing gear, checking the enunciator as four green lights illuminated, indicating that both the main wheel assemblies and the wheels at the ends of the wings were down and locked.

‘Tiger Two, Brindisi Tower, confirm landing checks are complete.’

‘Checks complete, four greens,’ Richter replied.

‘Roger, Tiger Two. Land runway three two. Wind is green one five at ten gusting fifteen.’

Richter played with the throttle all the way down, but he didn’t attempt to adjust the nozzle angle: he had over a mile and a half of asphalt and concrete in front of him, and was quite happy to use all of it if he had to.

He flew over the touchdown end of the runway, coming in very high and very fast – the kind of profile one of his flying instructors had dubbed an ‘elephant’s arse approach’ because it was high and it stank – then flared the Harrier and dropped it onto the rubber-streaked runway about four hundred yards beyond the piano keys. The moment the tyres touched the concrete, Richter throttled back completely, and the aircraft’s speed began falling away.

‘Thank you, Tower,’ Richter transmitted. ‘Request taxi instructions.’

‘Take the next exit right and follow the taxiway to the first hangar.’

As Richter made the turn he saw the fire-and-rescue vehicles following behind him, the ambulance in trail. He waved an acknowledgement from the cockpit and received an answering flash from the primary unit’s headlights in return.

Fifty-eight miles away and thirty-five thousand feet above the surface of the Mediterranean, the Senior Pilot in Tiger One, who had followed Richter’s frequency changes down to touchdown, heard the transmission and pulled his aircraft around in a starboard turn onto east.

‘Tiger Two from Tiger One on Brindisi Tower frequency. Copy that you’re down safely. See you around, Spook.’

‘Roger that, Splot.’

The Senior Pilot checked his fuel state, selected Destination One – the Invincible ’s programmed position – in his NAVHARS, and settled his Harrier into a high-level cruise. Then he switched back to Homer frequency.

‘Homer, Tiger One. Tiger Two is down safely at Brindisi, my estimate at minute two six. Tiger One is now on recovery and requesting pigeons.’

‘Tiger One, Homer. Good news, sir. Pigeons zero seven five at fifty-three.’

At Brindisi-Casale, Richter switched off his Harrier’s electrical systems and then shut down the engine. The ground crew didn’t have a proper set of steps designed for the Harrier, so they improvised with a small fork-lift truck, against the raised prongs of which they rested an aluminium ladder.

When Richter reached the ground he shook hands solemnly with each of the ground crew, then followed their hand signals and sign language towards the squadron building adjacent to the hangar. He walked into the white-painted, single-storey building and followed another Italian’s directions to what he assumed was the squadron briefing-room.

The first, and in fact only, person Richter saw when he pushed open the door was Richard Simpson.

Monday

National Photographic Interpretation Center (N-PIC), Building 213, Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC

What may be termed the militarization of space began in 1960 when the US Air Force successfully recovered exposed film from Discovery 13, the first photo-reconnaissance satellite, and when in a parallel but unrelated operation the US Navy orbited a Transit bird.

These two successes were quickly followed by a series of SAMOS (Satellite and Missile Observation System) reconnaissance satellites. The launches of these early and very basic vehicles were followed by satellites of increasing complexity, and near-space orbits are now filled with a plethora of highly sophisticated, complex and very specialized pieces of equipment. These include Defence Support Program infra-red early-warning satellites, Magnum electronic intercept birds, SDS information-relay satellites, and DSCS-3 jam-proof high-frequency communication platforms.