Alex Duncan - Sweating the Metal

‘Right Pete, for Kalaang we’ll approach from the west with a small split, where we’ll drop each load one after the other so that we don’t expose ourselves too long in the area. For PB2 and PB3, I’ll remain in the overhead at FL60 2km to the west; you’ll run in from the NW to PB3 and then direct north to PB2. You then go back to Bastion, I’ll complete this other job with the Lynx and we’ll meet up at Bastion to transit back to KAF with our engineers and aircrew. Happy?’

It’s all good, so I carry on with the rest of the brief, covering admin points for the formation, Rules of Engagement, emergencies, frequencies etc. Everyone happy, we walk out to the cabs, spin up and hover-taxi to the load park where we collect our USLs.

‘Bastion Tower, Ultimate Two One Flight, formation consisting of Ultimate Two One and Ultimate Two Two. Four POB on each, ready for departure from load park through HALS 19, no southern cross required.’

‘Ultimate Two One Flight, Bastion Tower, clear for take-off load park, wind is two-two-zero at seven knots.’

‘Ultimate Two One Flight clear for take-off load park,’ I call.

Waldo already has us in the hover, our four-and-a-half-tonne load of food and ammo destined for Kalaang hanging like a pendulum from the centre hook on the cab’s belly. He gently transitions forward as I scan the engine instruments and monitor the increase in temperature caused by the additional power required to accommodate the weight of the load; it’s vital we stay within limits. Everything looks good, so he accelerates smoothly from the load park, turns right and flies down the HALS heading south.

Our Apache escort for the first run is already ahead of us, where he has established comms with the unit receiving our load at Kalaang.

‘Ugly Five One, Ultimate Two One Flight, inbound Kalaang in figures ten, request HLS brief.’

‘Ultimate Two One Flight, HLS is clear and secure. Route west to west initially with a right-hand turn to the south on short finals.’

It goes like a dream; we’re in and out with no problems. It’s on the way back to Bastion that my ears suddenly prick up as I hear the Apache talking to a JTAC on the ground saying, ‘Yeah, Widow Six Three, Ugly Five One, can you confirm the grid for the small arms fire at the Chinook?’

I look at Waldo. ‘Fucking great. So much for their “08:30 will be safe” bollocks.’

‘Ugly Five One, Widow Six Three, both call signs were engaged on the way in and out by bursts of SAFIRE, we think 2km north-west our location.’

‘Widow Six Three, that’s copied. We’ll investigate now.’

‘Don’t you just love taking fire first thing in the morning?’ asks Mick.

We land on at Bastion for a suck of gas and pick up our three-tonne load of helium bottles in a USL net, while Pete and Doug collect their pax from the passenger handling facility. In a replay of our earlier lift, Waldo transitions away from Bastion to the south, this time turning south-east and heading towards PB3.

We climb and I establish comms with the JTAC controlling PB3 to get his HLS brief and instructions, while Pete and Doug maintain low level and take a longer route. This is to ensure their arrival coincides with the end of my call to the JTAC, so I can relay the details to Pete before he immerses himself in the ‘low-level, dirty dash, initial point to target run.’ As he starts his run in, we follow at height to ensure his safety.

It’s paramount that responsibility for providing cover to Pete’s cab is passed from Mick to Dave and back again whenever each one reaches the limit of his lookout and arc of fire. Pete’s aircraft will remain in sight at all times and it’s technically a very difficult exercise in CRM; however, not for this crew. We’ve been together in theatre for almost two months by now, so it’s all well rehearsed.

Suddenly my radio crackles.

‘Ultimate Two One, Widow Six Five, your wingman Ultimate Two Two is taking SAFIRE north-west of our location. Multiple firing points.’

I relay the message but Pete has already heard and taken evasive action. He makes it into PB3 without getting hit, where he unloads one lot of pax and collects another for the sortie to PB2.

I wonder how we’re going to get out of this. Pete has two options – he can carry on to PB2 or cancel the serial, but even if he does that, he still has to fly through the contact zone to get out. I have an idea. I know that Apaches are regularly in the area providing air support for ground units so I throw it open…

‘Any Ugly call sign, this is Ultimate Two One.’ I wait for a few seconds and I’m rewarded with a response.

‘Ultimate Two One, Ugly Five Three, pass message.’ Result!

‘Ugly Five Three, Ultimate Two One formation, flight of two consisting of Ultimate Two One currently in the overhead at PB3 and Ultimate Two Two at PB3. Two Two was contacted between PB2 and PB3. Request assistance and escort from PB3 to PB2 if you have the fuel to ensure his protection.’

‘Ugly Five Three, that’s no problem. Your location in figures five.’

I call Pete to give him a heads up, ‘Ultimate Two Two from Two One, I have Ugly Five Three inbound in five minutes to provide you with escort for the next serial if you are happy to continue.’ Of course, Pete’s more than happy. Sorted!

Ugly Five Three arrives on station just as Pete’s ready to lift and bizarrely that’s when the contact stops. Cheeky fuckers are happy to take us on when we’re by ourselves but they’re not so brave when the extra muscle turns up. Pete flies on to PB2 without trouble and completes his mission, although I’m not happy – that all-too-familiar feeling returns, as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I sense that we’re not out of the woods yet. That’s twice we’ve been under enemy fire now in the space of just an hour and a half.

I push the sense of impending trouble to the back of my mind – there’s nothing I can do and we still have to deliver our USL. Waldo flies us across the Green Zone at 3,000ft and we position to the east of the Helmand River to start our run in to target.

‘Frenchie, do you fancy flying this one?’ asks Waldo. ‘I’ve flown it all day yesterday and today.’

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, trying my level best not to push him too much the other way in case he changes his mind. I want to get some stick time; I’ve missed handling.

‘Sure, take it. You have control.’

‘I have control, thanks Bud. Right, next pre-landers and hook checks please.’

Waldo runs through the pre-landing checks to prepare the cab for the drop-off while we’re still at height, meaning we won’t need to do it in the more dangerous environment at low level where we’ll likely need all our concentration.

I gently manoeuvre the aircraft down from 3,000ft approximately two miles east of the Helmand Desert, giving us approximately five miles to run in at low level.

Waldo talks me on to target, giving me the headings I need, pointing out features on the ground and counting down to the HLS. Meanwhile, Dave Wray has his head in the hatch looking at the load while giving me regular updates on its behaviour, which is different at speed and in the higher-density air at low level. Mick Fry stands sentinel on the starboard Crowd Pleaser. All the crew are working in unison, each of us engaged in a different task, all of which are vital to the success of the mission. Remove just one of us and it all goes tits up.

‘Three miles to run,’ calls Waldo as I descend over the wadi on the eastern bank of the Helmand River.

‘How can somewhere so pretty be so shit?’ I ask myself.