Every day I would have to submit a report on how combat ready
the squadron was. There were three
stages of combat readiness, non-combat ready, limited combat ready and combat
ready. These figures would be submitted
along with statistics on our aircraft along similar lines. This would allow command to see, at a glance,
exactly what firepower they had at any one time. Someone kept telephoning me every day and
asking me how many aircraft we had and how combat ready were we. As I was already submitting the combat
statistics over a secure signal network I gave a false figure. On the first day I was rather mischievous and
ran off whatever aircraft I could see, so it was something like ten Phantoms,
two Buccaneers, one Vulcan and a Gazelle.
I had scribbled it down on a notepad as I was talking and
thought no more about it. The following
day the same person telephoned and asked again for our status. I added one to each aircraft type and hung
up. This began to happen every day and
as the person, a young female, on the other end of the telephone didn’t question
the madness of it all, I continued adding one to each aircraft type every time
she telephoned. Meanwhile we were making
good progress and every crew had been declared combat ready. The SENGO was called and when he came in to
operations J R informed him that we had completed our operational task and that
we could now start taking the ground crew flying.
The SENGO began to make a list of names when J R pointed at
me and said ‘Put him on the top of the list.’
I was sent off to flying clothing and kitted out. On returning to ops I found out that I was to
go up with Roy Lawrence. Roy took me to
the briefing room and asked if there was anything I would specifically like to
do while airborne. I said I would love
to go supersonic and of course fire the guns.
After all I was a boy. Roy gave
me a safety briefing, emphasising the importance of following his instructions,
especially if he ordered me to eject. I
had no intention of getting a Martin Baker tie, if I could help it. It was quite exciting walking out to the aircraft
and climbing in. The engineers were
having great fun, asking if I had enough sick bags or did I know which end was
the front.
We taxied out as one of a pair and while sitting at the end
of the runway the other aircraft informed us that we had a barber’s pole
showing. Basically a red and white pipe
showing that there may be a problem with the wings, but quite common and it
should rectify itself as we got airborne.
However Roy still instructed me that I should prepare to eject should
the situation worsen. Thankfully the
problem did sort itself out and we climbed away from the ground. It’s quite different from flying in an
airliner. You are very aware of the
power but it’s much smoother. I had
quite a lot of experience in the back seat from my times in the simulator, so
was familiar with the environment.
Roy found the Canberra and we began our attack. As we closed in on the banner I could only
just see the Canberra pulling away from us.
Roy was giving me a running commentary on what was happening and when he
informed me that we were about to open fire I was disappointed that my view of
the target was terrible. As the cannon,
underneath the aircraft erupted you could feel it through your feet and hear it
as well. Roy pulled away and came in again
for a second run, again letting the Gatling cannon rip. We then came away and circled high above as
the other aircraft had two runs on the banner, so I had a great view of what we
had just completed.
We then left our sister ship and headed out across the Mediterranean. Roy dropped down close to sea level and, as the
good ol boys would say, floored it. Despite
the fact that I could see our speed climbing on the dials before me, I knew to
watch the leading edge of the wings, for as we crossed, or broke, the sound
barrier we would get a grey mist shimmering along the front of each wing. It was an amazing thing to see and then Roy
pulled the stick back. I had three
mirrors in front of me, something like the rear view mirror you would find in a
standard motor car. All I could see in
the mirrors was the Island of Cyprus grow smaller by the second and then you
think ‘Oh shit! We’ve got to come back down again.’
You’ll never find anything like that in any fun fair or even
come anywhere close on a computer simulator.
Roy performed a variety of manoeuvres as we descended, from rolling to
flying upside down, all exciting stuff.
We then enjoyed a lazy, and much slower flight, around the coast and it
was quite interesting to fly past Paphos , Aphrodite’s rock, the cliffs and submarine
point. As you may have expected every
time we checked in with the squadron we were getting plenty of Falcon two six
nine calls. We landed and Roy took my
photograph beside our aircraft. I was
extremely pleased with the flight but knew that I would not want to be a
navigator. I knew that I would have to
be in control, but I also knew that I still preferred helicopters.
Back in operations everyone wanted to know what I thought
about the flight and I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. I felt strange talking about my experience because
I found sitting in the Phantom to be a very erotic sensation. I was surprised to hear that this was very
common, that the close confines of the rear seat were in some deep psychological
way connected to the womb. Please don’t
ask me to explain it; I didn’t understand it when it was explained to me. I changed back into my ill-fitting uniform and
returned to operations.
J R wanted to know if I had been submitting our combat
readiness to command every day. I
assured him that I had and showed him the file that contained all my
signals. He was confused because the commander
of the British forces in Cyprus couldn’t understand the statistics he was being
presented with every morning at his briefings. As I was able to show that I had sent the
daily signal, to command, he understood we had fulfilled our duty but couldn’t comprehend
how the local commander was getting these strange figures. I pretended to be confused too.
It was at this point that Tony Bown came in with another
signal. “Biggen Hill want to know your
weight.” I hadn’t been weighed since
arriving in Cyprus but it was obvious to everyone that I had lost a good amount
of weight. They had asked the senior
medical officer, the SMO, in Cyprus to weigh me and report my weight back to
them. If I was within their guidelines I
would be called forward to Biggen. I made
my way over to the medical centre wondering how to get around this, in case I
was too heavy. I waited in reception and
when I saw a young fellow, who I would say was borderline geek, if not full
blown geek, I approached him and asked if I could get weighed.
He took me to a room and showed me the weighing scales. I had never seen a set like these before in
my life. You actually sat in a seat and
the reading was taken from behind, so you couldn’t actually weigh
yourself. I sat down and being terrified,
that I could be a pound or two over the limit, placed my right toe on the ground
and pushed for all I was worth. I think
I my perfect weight was meant to be approximately one hundred kilograms. This fellow announces that I am ninety five
kilos. “Great.” I say, leaping off the
scales. “Can you make a note of that please.” “Why should I make a note of it?” asks the young
man. “Because,” I say, as I am slipping
out through the door. “The SMO wants to know
my weight. Can you give it to him please”
Tony and J R were pleased with the weight but the SMO wasn’t,
he wanted to weigh me himself. I
explained to both Tony and J R what had happened and they wondered how we could
get around it. Their idea was that I
should hide. The detachment was nearly over;
I had ten days left in Cyprus, because I was on the rear party. If I could remain in Cyprus for the next ten
days, without being spotted, we might get away with it. The SMO would have to submit the weight I had
given. Luckily I was used to giving
false names, but I wasn’t used to being somewhere really, really, nice and not
wanting to be there.
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