An Informal Description of the Environment of 122 Wing During the Cold War by Al Pollock |
||
1:1,000,000 scale 1957 flying map from Al's logbook RAF Jever in the north and Ahlhorn in
the south have been ringed. The airfield at
Oldenburg can be seen under halfway between these bases. The distinctive spade-shaped Jade Basin and
Wilhelmshaven to the east, with the Friesian Islands off the north coast of
Western Germany, were clear guides to one’s position on those rare days of partially clear weather. July 1957 to
June 1958: 2nd TAF’s thinning skies My brief but enjoyable 11 months’
transfer to and time on No. IV )AC) Squadron in 122 Wing at Jever lay
between two split tour periods on 26(AC) Squadron, from just before 26’s
disbandment to rejoining when 26 was reformed at Ahlhorn.
That era’s background context was partly caused by the post-Suez political and
financial crisis of 1956 – this helped to trigger the sickening thud into 2nd
TAF of the Sandys Defence Review Axe in April 1957. Most of
us in Germany felt 2nd TAF was the
sharp forward end of air defence, even though we
usually lagged behind UK and Fighter Command on Hunter modifications and most
other priorities. This profound blow, on what later
became RAF Germany on 1st January 1959, fell quickly between
April and September 1957, reducing 2nd TAF’s operational
capability by subtracting all six of our Venom fighter bomber squadrons and
nine of the thirteen Hunter Squadrons: 67, 71, 112 & 130 disbanded within
weeks at Brűggen, 3 & 234 Sqns within three months at Geilenkirchen,
98 and 118 at Jever by July and August, and 26
Squadron on 10th September from Oldenburg, before first 20 Sqn and
then 14 Sqn moved to Ahlhorn
later that month. This is mentioned as these cuts firstly
meant a drastic decline in the number of upper air formations of fours, sixes
and eights to tangle with, which had been such a key and attractive element in
our fighter squadron training. Secondly there was a temporary
swelling of the two remaining Hunter Wings, each now with only two squadrons, 4
and 93 at Jever matching 14 and 20 at Ahlhorn. The two Venom Wings, Celle’s FB1 16, 94 and
145 Sqns and the FB4 5, 11 and 266 Sqns at Wunstorf, would have
disappeared by mid October and mid November respectively. By the end of 1958, Wahn, Celle, Bückeburg,
Oldenburg, Wunstorf and Ahlhorn
had all been handed back to the Luftwaffe. Overall, RAF Germany’s squadron
strength would thus fall from three dozen in 1956 to only one dozen in
1961. By September 1961, No.14, the last air defence
Hunter squadron would have been disbanded to become, by the re-numbering of 88
Sqn, a Canberra B(I)8 Squadron at Wildenrath. Before the close of 1958, Wahn, Celle, Bückeburg,
Oldenburg, Wunstorf and Ahlhorn
were all returned to the Luftwaffe. 2nd TAF’s squadron
strength also had fallen from three dozen RAF squadrons in 1956 to just one
dozen in 1961. By September 1961, No.14, the last air defence
Hunter squadron would have been disbanded to become 88’s re-numbered 14
Sqn as a Canberra B(I)8 Squadron at Wildenrath. No. IV (AC)
Squadron’s Hunter F Mk4 aircraft replaced its Sabre F 4s in July / August 1955
and then operated its Hunter F Mk 6s from February, 1957to December,
1960. After Four’s disbandment at Jever ,
there was a same day reformation at Gűtersloh,
replacing 79 Squadron’s number plate on 30th December, 1960 followed
with its re-equipping with Hunter FR 10s (and Swift FR 5s for nearly three
months) until once again its disbandment on 30th May, 1970 and
reformation, this time with Harrier GR1s at Wildenrath
before returning once more to Gűtersloh.
Counting in its UK Echelon’s few months at West Raynham with F/GA 9s paving the
way, No. IV in this parallel sense was the only squadron to be equipped with
all ‘Four’ mainstay Hunters, the F Mks 4 & 6, the
FR 10 and F/GA 9 and served longest with the Hunter. The early
Hunter’s role was as a fighter, like that predominantly on my mere eleven
months on Shiny Four in 1957/58 and 26 (AC) Squadron on its reformation at Ahlhorn and on
to Gűtersloh. This was an instant
transition from the Mk 4, with its occasional surge problems, often at high
angles of attack as on breaks towards one at high altitude, not invariably with
too rapid throttle movements, to the much more powerful Mk 6. The Hunter Mk 6’s performance was quickly
negated somewhat by our usually always flying with our inboard 100 gallon tanks
fitted unless we were up at Sylt for our much prized Armament Practice Camps,
firing competitively at 10,000ft and 20,000ft and, less certainly, for our
quarter attacks against towed flags at an occasional 25,000ft. The
formidable punch from our four 30mm Aden guns had evolved, once teething
problems, mainly at altitude, were cured – about 1958 we went over from low
velocity to high velocity ammunition which helped scores but using well
adjusted radar ranging took much longer. When VIPs or overseas visitors
arrived on a Hunter station from the introduction of the Mk 1 to early Mk 6
usage in both UK and overseas Commands, a formal demonstration would regularly
take place on the squadron pans, sometimes as a race between two or more
squadron teams. This would display well the aircraft’s unique and
supremely fast operational turnround, ably assisted
by its quickly replaceable gun packs – a system so impressively faster than its
competitors. Once the 100 gallon and later the F/GA Mk9’s 230 gallon
inboard tanks were in regular use, dramatically extending the average sortie’s
flight time on the Squadrons, these formal demonstrations became quite
rare. The most height I clawed my way up to in a Hunter F Mk6 was
54,000ft and that was with empty inboards, although, for flight safety and decompression
purposes, we were advised to stay at or below 48,000ft – in practice
sections were able to fly defensively safer and faster at .9M lower than
45,000ft. Scramble times
and 'Trade', normal and clandestine On 7 April 1958 at Jever, with No.4 (AC) Squadron. I have one Battle Flight scramble
time noted, paired with Dickie Barraclough, when we recorded 2 minutes and 33
seconds - this independently timed actual scramble was from the upstairs crewroom to one's aircraft cockpit, already personally
prepared and checked, with one’s parachute and security harnesses adjusted and
laid waiting and alert groundcrews - a good time for Jever’s long parallel taxy track to airborne. We were at '5
minutes readiness' - a respectable three minutes or so was normal from squawk
box notification in Shiny Four's first floor crewroom
to 'wheels up'. Once the first pair had scrambled on Battle Flight duty,
the second pair at 30 minutes came on and up to a 5 minutes readiness and a
further pair 30 minutes. Among
interesting if frustrating Battle Flight scramble sorties were those when we
would see a glint about 30 or 40 miles away, just before a new and most
authoritative voice would suddenly break in and turn us most firmly and
promptly away from these ‘clandestine inbounds', which we never discussed too
much but obviously knew exactly what was going on, with a ‘rather them than us’
feeling. Decades later we would discover that some of the pilots might
well have been among our earlier posted 2nd TAF colleagues. For a justifiably
successful claim of killing film, one needed a well-ranged and tracking pipper steady on the target aircraft for a full two seconds
- it was bad form to claim incorrectly, even more so of other Hunters on
desperate fly through shots etc in dogfights. The normal 2TAF 1957-59 ciné interception diet would be any mix of Meteor NF 11s
and Javelin FAW 1s and 5s, Vampires and Venoms, F-86 Sabres mostly
RCAF 6’s and then some of their 75 Sabre 5’s transferred to and flown by
the embryo Luftwaffe, USAF F-100 Super Sabres (their un-reheated cruise
was noticeably slower than our normal operating speeds), Fairchild C-119 Flying Boxcars both
USAF and sometimes Belgian AF, the odd French Ouragan or even Mystère, plenty of Canadian and a few Belgian Canuck
CF-100's, USAF T-33s, F-84 Thunderjets and increasingly, as the German Air
Force expanded, many RF-84Fs, and on routine ‘Amled’
Exercises and others, we would attack Canberras galore - we would see and film
unmolested quite a few USAF Douglas RB-66 Destroyers or the USN equivalent, A3D Sky Warriors, and once I claimed a Martin
USAF B-57, plus later the very first 2ATAF claim on 6 April, 1959 of a
Convair F-102 Delta Dagger within days of their arrival, although his aircraft
in my 500yd gunsight picture rapidly selected afterburners to accelerate
beyond firing range. Apart from the
still low east-west airway to the north of the German coast, any aircraft above
or even often just leaving the ground was considered fair game to attack in
those days - 4 & 93 Sqn pairs taking off at Jever would often be seen with
our outwards turning into wide battle formation as the undercarriages were
retracting. There was an inevitable reduction in the number of both
planned and impromptu high level engagements between sizeable formations of
battle eights and sixes in middle to late 1957 with the reduction of so many
other RAF squadrons. Gradually to supplement combat and tailchasing, we would transfer from the earlier
conventional ciné quarter attacks at 25,000 ft to
40,000 ft ciné gun tracking exercises on a
standardised 1 v 1 evasive descending banking and climbing reversal
pattern of ‘Chinese’ quarters, easier to assess accurately for pilot
proficiency and more operationally realistic at higher Mach numbers. All 2nd
TAF fighter and night fighter Squadrons would go up to RAF Sylt for our twice
yearly Armament Practice Camp at the holiday island of Sylt, right up close to
the Danish border with our firing competitively at 10,000 and 20,000ft against
flag targets towed by Meteor TT20s - firing at
25,000ft was iffy but possible and it would be mostly 1959 before 2nd
TAF Hunters were using our radar ranging to better effect. After the
delights of air firing at Sylt in August, we flew by flights up to
Schleswigland in mid September for Exercise Brownjug, which would be thought, for many years and
pre-Harrier, as the final tented detachment, with memories of our having to
taxy well apart to avoid engine damage there and this being the final hurrah of
Venoms also detached there with us. Brownjug
was split between high level sweeps and low level strikes, the latter carefully
planned to avoid the many Danish mink farms, where aircraft noise, we were
briefed, would have caused expensive claims as mink, if startled, would swallow
their young. The launching of ‘Sputnik’ in October
1957 was quite a wake-up call about advancing Soviet technology in
aerospace. Practice interceptions (PIs), as much if not more for the
benefit of the radar controllers were another staple fare besides Battle Flight
duties and by the year end we were beginning to concentrate more regularly on
air to ground firing at the Meppen range. The figure Four
in the fourth month, April 1958, certainly figured strongly on Shiny Four’s
detachment to No. 4 Canadian Wing at Baden Soellingen in 4th ATAF with 444 RCAF
Squadron, rather spoiled by Four’s less than ideal Hunter serviceability but
highly useful to see at first hand and in good numbers, the 7,275 lb
thrust, Orenda-engined Canadair Sabre Mk.6 in
operation with good altitude performance and with its impressive wing
leading edge slats, which any sensible Hunter pilot would only see the once at
altitude to learn the lesson not to tangle, stay and play or a Hunter would be
dead meat, given the Sabre 6’s excellent low-speed turning
characteristics. To nail Sabres with their
canopies’ better rear vision and flown by our Canadian friends, we would have
to use our Avon’s power advantage, better speed and diving acceleration to keep
our Mach number up. Our near inviolate, developed engagement norms for
taking on Sabre formations would be: (a) fast in, fast out (b)
you only have sixty degrees or so of azimuth to safely track and kill in
following their break before one’s needing to rapidly dive out below and
re-position by climbing up-sun (c) never stay and play – bewitchingly slatted
in turns or not, the Sabre, like the Venom at high altitude, was a helpful
dissimilar combat teacher. V-Bomber
Interceptions, particularly if we were using our anti- jamming Green Salad equipment,
were always great fun, as noted when we were majoring on easier Valiants in
'Exercise Fullplay' in June 1958, using successive
mission numbers. The beauty of the V-Bombers, particularly the Victor and
Vulcan, in a late evening or early morning sky could only be described as truly
ethereal. The Victor’s tailplane conveniently was an
identical 34 foot span, the same as our Hunter’s wingspan so one had a choice
of tracking opportunities. From necessity we experimented and this far
more with Vulcans than Victors at high level with unorthodox overtaking type
attacks from well ahead. This was to speed up the time and catch- up
ranges taken to complete some sort of attack – diving down would bring one
overtaking on track but at the cost of losing height. From below and
ahead we would then pull up, craning our heads backwards and above, in the hope
for a raking fly-through firing burst opportunity . . . . not
the safest of attacks. These manoeuvres, often after shortening too
lengthy a chase, and with usage of flap during the last seconds of pull up,
must have caused raised eyebrows, if they had ever been seen. Even more
instructive so was a rather sheepish learning experience I had from a seemingly
good idea to firstly sucker-bait a compliant Brockzetel radar controller by
sycophantically obeying and applauding his first three singleton practice
interceptions with the standard offset head on procedures. Immediately after these, I demanded, as
authoritatively as I could, a head on attack for my next interception.
Without knowing anything of what my unsuspecting quarry would be but
subsequently glad there were no witnesses, I was being positioned with extra height. Thus I was set up to try this bunting head
on attack in my Hunter at .92 to .95M against what turned out to be one of
Strategic Air Command General Curtis LeMay’s RB-52s. I would certainly never forget that explosive
expansion of this target, twixt my windscreen and the quite impossible gun
sighting problem at our combined closing speed of 1.65M, with that lightning
glimpse of the Stratofortress’s cabin area flash
below – perhaps I should have been attacking at minimum speed but at least I
had rapid control for collision avoidance. . The Hunter’s 10 minute Operational Turnround The speed and
usefulness of the ‘just possible' 10 minutes, to land, refuel and re-arm on ‘Operational Turnround’ from touchdown to taxy out, take-off and
airborne wheels up on the next sortie, was one of the Hunter's finest
attributes. Marshalled into dispersal and facing an Armament Practice
Camp sand revetment or safe area over the airfield, the pilot shuts down his
Hunter, and is rapidly double chocked amid a blur of eager armourers and
technicians. The procedural maze of orders, grunts and shouts of the tumround team coalesce into the race of refuellers,
riggers, engine mechs, instrument bashers and
electricians, all in one converging swarm of activity around, below, level and
above one's gaze. The ladder is up and ejection pins are in, as that other last
symphonic engine whine and gradual wind-down reaches one's ears in the open
cockpit, with the combined throttle and High Pressure Cock already off as that
haunting and distinctively de-syncopated Avon music clatters into its finale
swirl of ever looser compressor blades and the cooling hot metal jet pipe -
noisier lower revolutions drop back to a quietened nought. One's arms are
already up and out, clearly in view of the canopy coaming, as one shouts “Guns
- all switches safe”- the wheel well arming circuit safety break plug and flag
hanging down are made safe as the front panel drops as fuses are held up. The
down prop must quickly be fixed into and under the rear fuselage to allow the
unbalancing gunpack’s weight to be dropped out.
The empty forked hydraulic lift trolley comes in, with the Sabrina panels now
down, grounding with that soft aluminium scraping and the rattling of those
black gunmetal ammunition links being spilled and emptied. The massive
30mm cartridge cases had been ejected and spewed out down their chutes when the
guns were fired in the air and were affectionately called “brass rain” by our
own forward Army units upcountry in Aden. The fuselage
attachment drop point spindles, port and starboard,
are fixed in to be able to hold the lowering and lifting winches now hooked
on. All four Aden gun barrels have already been unlocked and drawn
forward. The removable gun pack, winched up on both sides is crack-released and
wire-wound down, initially with that slightly drunken sway, one way or the other,
after the first few inches of ratchet drop takes its weight, eventually
nestling onto the quick-kick-adjusted low semicircular cradle, for it to
settle, barely a second before it is drag-wheeled out to the side. A new
replacement fully loaded and part fuselage gunpack
comes back in and under that gaping incomplete fuselage, with the trolley
repositioned underneath in seconds. That deadly pack of four Aden guns
and an appropriate total of 480 or so practice ball ammo, High Explosive or
Armour Piercing 30mm tray-positioned interlinked rounds within seconds is heard
once more to be moving those few feet upwards, as that distinctive ratchet whir
and winching noise again signals the heavy pack lifting slowly upwards under
control from its cradle into position. The pack comes flush with the rest of
the fuselage surfaces and its locating spigots, as the notes change with a
brief two or three second hesitation before those final crisp whip-cracks
announce positively that the torque limiters have just been exceeded, so the
pack is locked safely up - the barrels are already being twist-locked into
place. More scurrying
and watching for the bowser’s refuelling hose to be removed, oxygen replenished
and trolley gone, starter cartridges (or later, AVPIN) topped up, rear fuselage
prop gone and with the engine checks and turnround
completed, and one’s own pre-starting checks run through as a last look
around. A Form 700 to sign is thrust
into the cockpit with a smile and a biro beneath one's nose, as you click in your
new spare gunsight ciné magazine. With one’s
helmet on and the pigtail lead connected, the ejection
seat pins are removed, shown and stowed, before the airman descends and removes
the steps from its fuselage top trap. Ready to start
and the thumbs up interrogation signal is
acknowledged, and all under eight minutes or so - can't be bad. Press the
tit and the cartridge fires (or that acrid, pungent hiss in the case of the
F.6's Avpin), and we're cooking again with Avtur, after the airman’s safety check for fire and the
starter vent panel’s dzus fasteners are locked once
more. We’re ready to be on our way. The after-start checks in seconds, radio
taxy call, brakes off and check curtsy, and off we go. We'll make 10 minutes from touchdown to take
off this time - fancy actually being paid to do this as one's routine day job! |