TRIUMPH OF THE TORNADO
It terrorised the Taliban and battered Isis. As it’s retired from duty, a Gulf War hero who says it saved his life bids a gripping farewell
Look up today and tomorrow and you may see an RAF Tornado jet blasting across the skies. This remarkable and faithful warhorse, which was retired from official duty a fortnight ago, is saying one last farewell to Britain by flying over the country.
It is the end of an era. The venerable Tornado — with its distinctive swing wings — has been flying for almost 45 years, nearly 29 of them on combat operations.
It was a big part of my life and probably even saved it. In January 1991, I was in my navigator’s seat as we took on board fuel from an airborne tanker in the skies over Saudi Arabia.
In the front seat, my pilot John Peters (known as JP) pointed the nose earthwards and we hurtled towards the desert floor and the Iraqi border.
It was 8.30am on a gin-clear day, and our formation of three Tornados headed towards the target — a massive airfield in Iraq’s southern desert.
This was the first day of operation Desert Storm, the First Gulf War to expel Saddam Hussein’s invading army from kuwait.
But I felt safe enough. The Tornado was designed for low-level combat like this. We were trained to fly at around 50ft and speeds of up to 600mph — akin to flying from Newcastle to London at near roof top heights in under 30 minutes.
First taking to the air in 1974 and introduced into RAF service in 1979, its intended role was to hold back any Soviet invasion into Europe.
our Tornado was armed with eight 1,000lb unguided ‘dumb’ bombs — pretty basic stuff compared with today’s weaponry. The aircraft computer system could aim them, but once released, they were on their own.
We also carried two 27mm Mauser cannon, and, for self- defence, a Skyshadow pod that jammed enemy radar. Another pod could deploy chaff (tiny strips of aluminium foil — not unlike cooking foil) to confuse radar. We also had flares to distract heat-seeking missiles.
Under the wings were Sidewinder air-to-air missiles to shoot down aircraft. A radar-warning device would tell us if enemy radar was looking for us or locking on to fire missiles at us.
But our greatest defensive asset was the aircraft itself. Its ability to be flown incredibly low and fast meant we would hopefully be in and out of the hostile zone before defences could be activated.
To help with this, the angle of the wings can be adjusted by the pilot — swept wide for take-off, landing and slow manoeuvring, or swept back for high speed, low flight.
As we closed on the target, adrenaline pumped around my body. our timing was spot on. The target was identified and the aircraft weapons systems could be ordered to release the bombs. In an hour I’d be safely back at base.
But then Iraqi air defences opened up on us.
We were just 10 seconds away from releasing our weapons — and flying into a wall of exploding fire. ‘Weapons armed, happy with the target, clear to commit the attack,’ I told JP over the intercom.
But you don’t just ‘drop’ bombs from a Tornado. The system releases them when it is convinced all the conditions are correct.
our Tornado wasn’t convinced and it remained unconvinced. The bombs didn’t release. There was
chaos in the cockpit; JP was shouting at me. The attack was a failure and, as the person in charge of the weapons systems, it was my fault. As the flak poured in we were both more concerned about what our brave colleagues would say about our failed mission than the reality of our lives being in danger.
We were beating a hasty retreat when BOOM! — a heat- seeking Iraqi missile hit the rear of the aircraft. One minute I was flying at 50ft looking up at blue sky, then the jet was tumbling like a sycamore leaf and I was staring at brown sand.
With supreme skill, JP grappled with the controls and got the jet flying again. But we were now on fire. One of our Sidewinder missiles had been hit by flak, ignited like a blow torch and was jammed on its launcher and burning off the right wing. The back of the aircraft had disappeared and flames were rushing along the spine of the jet towards where I sit in the rear cockpit. Our Tornado had given its best, holding on long enough for us to escape, but it was now dying and there was only one solution. Eject! Eject! Eject!
Ejecting from a Tornado is like being grabbed by a giant and tossed into a hurricane.
Pull the handle and the perspex cockpit hood is blasted away and the ejection seat rockets fire.
You are propelled out of the jet at around 15 times the force of gravity, accelerating from zero to 200mph, up, in under a second.
Suddenly, the parachute opens with a crack and there’s only silence. You open your eyes.
I could see my Tornado still flying into the distance before descending to explode on the desert floor in a pall of smoke and flame.
Then the sand was rushing up to meet me. I hit the desert and collapsed in enemy territory.
I was no longer a modern day knight on a high-tech airborne charger. I was a very small, very scared, very insignificant human being in the hands of one of the cruellest regimes in the world.
My war was over, but the Tornado’s role to liberate Kuwait was not. While I languished as a prisonerof-war (and was eventually released after being tortured by the Iraqi regime), my friends and colleagues put their lives on the line to fly hundreds of missions.
While five of my colleagues were killed flying their Tornados, it was testimony to this incredible machine that so many survived.
The First Gulf war marked the start of a truly astonishing era of Tornado combat operations. The RAF Tornado Force remained in the Gulf region to protect the Shia population in the south of Iraq and the Kurds in the north from Saddam Hussein’s persecution.
The Tornado would be updated to keep it at the forefront of combat technology. It was flown by a new generation of brave men and, from 1993, women.
Its unique capabilities were utilised in Kosovo during the late 1990s, then in 2003 during the Second Gulf war in Iraq. Tornados were at the heart of operations in Afghanistan from 2009, providing unrivalled protection to British troops. In March 2011, the Tornado Force was deployed over Libya and a number of 3,000-mile missions undertaken — the longest combat sorties since the Falklands War.
In summer 2014, the Tornado’s surveillance capability was deployed to Nigeria to assist in the hunt for the schoolgirls kidnapped by terrorist group Boko Haram.
Finally, in August 2014, Tornados were re- deployed to the region where it had all begun, supporting the fight against Islamic State in Northern Iraq and Syria.
The latest GR4 Tornados which operated there have the same slablike appearance as the GR1 Tornados I flew in 1991, but technologically there are few similarities.
WITH
its laser-guided bombs, Brimstone missiles, long-range Storm Shadow cruise missiles and new defensive and targeting systems, it is an incredible aircraft.
Sadly, budget constraints mean it is being replaced by combat aircraft like the Typhoon and the F-35 Lightning. On February 5, the final GR4 Tornados returned from RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus after operations over Syria.
Their landing at their home base, RAF Marham in Norfolk, was an emotional moment for me. The Tornado has been a pivotal part of my life and shaped much of what I now do today.
I loved being part of the Tornado Force and I have no doubt that her sturdy construction saved my life.
But the Tornado’s history in battle is now over.
The head of the RAF, Air Chief Marshal Sir Stephen Hillier, himself a Tornado pilot, said: ‘We can all take immense pride in what the Tornado has achieved in defence of the nation.’
I couldn’t agree more. Job well and truly done.
JOHN NICHOL’S latest book, Spitfire — A Very British Love Story, is published by Simon & Schuster.