John Nichol - Tornado Down

The Memorial Service got under way with an address by the Minister of St Mungo’s, Dr William Morris:

‘ We come to remember with pride our loved ones, who gave their lives in war …’

Behind me a woman began quietly sobbing. Suddenly my nerves vanished. I realised I had every right to be there. I felt proud.

‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘this one’s for Steve, and for everyone else who died. It is for ordinary servicemen and their families.’

The dead. Forty-seven people on the British side lost their lives during the war, twenty-four of them in action.

Did it matter to them who was at the service? The main thing was to remember them with honour.

‘I to the hills will lift mine eyes, from whence doth come mine aid…’

The scale of the operation had been enormous. 45,000 UK Service personnel, together with 15,000 vehicles and 400,000 tonnes of freight, were moved 3,000 miles to the Gulf. The RAF alone flew over 4,000 combat sorties, dropping 3,000 tonnes of weapons: more than 100 JP-233 airfield denial weapons, some 6,000 bombs, over 100 anti-radar missiles and nearly 700 air-to-ground rockets. Even this was little compared to the American effort.

Saddam Hussein was still in power, still persecuting his own people, and much of the Republican Guard had escaped intact. You had to ask yourself the question, ‘Was it all worth it?’

‘ They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.’

We have learned there are some things you just cannot change, and that you have to accept. Our war was different. We took off once, we flew for a few hours on the first morning; the rest was survival. Our Squadron mates fought daily for seven weeks, yet we had the attention and the thanks, we had the praise and some of the rewards. People like Rob Woods and Chris Lunt, who had flown about twenty-one combat missions, got none of this.

Bravery lies in choice. Once we had been shot down we had little choice – there was nothing brave about it. The brave ones were those who, knowing the risks they ran every time they flew in combat, nevertheless got on with the job. The Iraqi television pictures were a sharp reminder of what would happen to them if they were shot down. Going out to the aircraft, getting in it, and taking off for a bombing run through the ‘tubes of molten metal’ – that was the brave part.

I moved to the lectern, to read the Lesson of Thanksgiving, from Philippians, Chapter Four, verses 4-9:

‘Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, do; and the God of peace will be with you. Amen.’

A Royal Marines bugle sounded the ‘Last Post’. As its call faded away, the cathedral was filled with the skirl of the bagpipes, as a piper came in playing a lament for the dead.

KEY: 1. Group Capt. Gordon McRobbie, Station Commander, with his three Wing Commanders. 2. Bombs. 3. Pilots and navigators by Tornado GR1 fitted with wing tanks. 4. Rapier missile launchers with crews. 5. Scorpion light tank, No. 1 Sqn, RAF Regt. 6. Sultan command vehicle. 7. Spartan armoured personnel carrier. 8. Samson recovery vehicle. 9. RAF Regiment gunners. 10. RAF Police dog handlers. 11. Recovery and repair vehicles. 12. Snow-blower and crew. 13. Fire tenders. 14. Ambulances and medics. 15. Bulldozer. 16. Civilian workers, catering and medical staff. 17. Army support units. 18. RAF and WRAF ground staff. 19. RAF Police. 20. Station Adjutant with push-bike.