Alex Duncan - Sweating the Metal

And with that, we walked in silence to the line.

When we reached the pan, we peeled off one by one to our respective cabs, but things started to go wrong from the off. JP lifted five minutes early and even though he had ten minutes to do the pick-up, his troops were slow in loading so we had to hold off. Then we had problems getting ours on too, so we were eight minutes behind the timeline lifting off.

Suddenly, during the transit to the first target area, I heard the radio crackling with shouts of contacts. Hannah saw tracer and it was coming up thick and fast towards both her and JP’s cabs.

I heard her call ‘Tracer, tracer, tracer!’ swiftly followed by ‘Contact!’ and then it all became a bit Star Wars . There seemed to be fire coming from everywhere. She and JP were both flying really aggressively to try to get in and somehow they managed to land and get their troops off. Then RPGs started flying across the sky as the Taliban tried to take out their cabs. Bob Ruffles, who was now her No.2 crewman, and Dan Temple both opened up with the Miniguns, returning fire on two separate locations. Then a heavy machine-gun opened up and it was absolute carnage. But somehow they flew evasive manoeuvres and escaped the kill zone.

Alex and I, and Stu and German are both eight minutes back, but we can hear Hannah calling ‘Contact!’ and see the weight of fire that is ranged up at them. It looks like the night sky over Berlin during World War II, as the Lancasters dropped their bombs. We have a choice. There’s a secondary HLS picked for precisely this reason – so that we’d have an alternative if the primary became too hot.

‘Why not use the secondary HLS?’ asks Alex, echoing my thoughts. His comment makes me realise that I’m not the only one fighting my nerves.

The problem is that the Paras are already engaged in heavy combat against the enemy and if I use the alternate, it will take the troops I have onboard at least fifteen minutes to reach the engagement zone and support their mates.

I’m dying inside, gripped by a fear I can’t show because this is what leadership is. This is where I earn my money. This is what comes with rank. I want to put the aircraft somewhere else; anywhere else, but I have to fly into the fight. Every cell in my body is trying to run in the opposite direction – to safety and away from danger. Running into danger is counter-intuitive, but it’s what we have to do. The Paras in my cab are needed to support those that JP and Hannah had on board, for the fight on the ground.

Whatever lies inside me stays inside me, and I win the struggle between my face and my feelings because I’m the captain of this aircraft, and I have to lead my crew and another aircraft into the fight.

‘C’mon guys,’ I say. ‘It probably looks worse than it is.’

We have eight minutes to think on what awaits us at the LS and it’s the longest eight minutes of my life, a million times worse than when I nursed 575 down at Edinburgh. That was sudden, reactive. It wasn’t brave; it wasn’t courageous – I just flew my aircraft and my training kicked in. This? This is a world apart from that. It’s fear on another level.

‘Right Frenchie, you should be visual with the landing site. 12 o’clock, where all that tracer fire is. That’s it. Nav complete,’ says Alex, smiling.

I laugh and the feeling lifts me just enough. There’s nothing for me to hold on to going in, but I’m smiling and – outside at least – I’m strong. ‘Stay cool, stay composed, appear ready to confront what’s ahead and the crew will follow,’ I keep telling myself.

‘Right guys, this is what they pay us for. Andy, I want you on the starboard Minigun for the approach and Griz, make ready on the M60,’ I tell the guys in the back.

We’re about two minutes out now. More tracer starts coming up but I’m focused on flying the aircraft and nothing else matters. As Alex gives me the pre-landing checks and I find the gate, suddenly it all stops. What the fuck? Griz and Andy take over with the height calls, and I settle the rear wheels on before lowering the collective to get the nose down. Six on, and we’re down. The ramp goes down, the troops rush off and Andy’s on the intercom saying, ‘Clear above and behind.’ I pull power and we’re away. Just a trip to Inkerman now, lift the troops, insert them at the second village and we can all get the fuck out of Dodge.

I transition and start to fly over a wadi at around 100ft when my peripheral vision catches a massive flash to the left, and the fabric of time stretches and becomes elastic. It’s ‘bullet time’ and everything slows.

‘R… P… G!’ I shout, but the words seem to take forever. It’s flying straight for us and I watch its fiery tail describe a lazy line behind it. I’m transfixed as I watch it s… l… o… w… l… y and inexorably head for the cockpit.

I look down and see it through the glass panels below my pedals as it flies under my feet. It’s so close, I feel I could put my hand out and grab it. The tail crackles and sparkles as it passes underneath me, jetting purple and yellow fire that is close enough for the reflection to dance across the instruments in the control panel. My NVGs show it in green, but it’s close enough that I can see it through the gap where the tubes meet my eyes.

Instinctively, I lift my feet off the controls as though by leaving them there they’ll burn in the rocket’s tail.

Then German calls ‘Contact!’ as he sees an explosion to the right of our aircraft and another RPG flies harmlessly behind us, where it hits the ground beneath and explodes.

‘The Taliban have got two firing points,’ says Alex and I’m thinking, ‘For fuck’s sake, not again. Surely not again?’

Almost unbelievably, we’re away and time reverts to normal speed again. The danger is behind us – for now.

Suddenly, the radio comes to life and I hear Stu Hague call, ‘Contact, 3 o’clock!’

I look right, and I see tracer arcing towards the sky. I’ve never seen anything like this. There’s so much tracer and rocket fire coming up you could have walked across it to Sangin. It’s like an unholy union between the opening scenes to Saving Private Ryan and the lobby shootout in The Matrix . Hannah and JP are ahead of us, and again we will have to follow them in.

I guess Hannah and JP’s location as I can see more tracer flying upwards south of our position. During the planning phase I wasn’t happy with JP’s planned routing away from the target. It’s the only time I’ve ever disagreed with his plan. I’d explained my thinking and my intention of routing a different way, one that I considered presented less danger, and now I’m pleased I’d done so because I can see the guns on their aircraft putting rounds down all the way down the valley from Inkerman to Sangin.

I swiftly depart FOB Inkerman to fly the approach to the second village, which goes without a hitch. We’re clear in, the troops are off in double-quick time and I get the ‘Clear above and behind’ from Andy. I pull pitch, while going backwards initially, and once I get a bit of speed I simultaneously apply bank and a lot of pedal to whip the aircraft round, almost around my own shoulder. Must be careful with the rate of yaw though – too much and the aircraft will lose some of its inertia, making it uncomfortable for the guys in the back. For once it’s nicely done!

We’re now away from the target. So far, so good; no contact. Suddenly, I hear Stu over the radio calling ‘Contact!’ Oh crap! That’s what I get for being smug!

An RPG just misses him as he’s transitioning. He’s doing 40kts; he’s at about 50ft so he’s both low and slow. He’s in 99ft of Chinook and vulnerable as hell… and it flies right by! How the fuck have they missed?