Apache

‘All gunshot wounds,’ he added. ‘Don’t know what state they’re in yet.’

‘Why aren’t the two Apaches down there going to protect the CH47?’

‘They’re busy fighting.’

Billy and I gave each other a knowing glance – here we go again. The Taliban weren’t giving up Jugroom Fort without a proper ding dong. Things were obviously not looking too good, but whatever the problem was, I didn’t need to know about it. We just needed to get that Chinook down there sharpish.

I ran the final 500 metres to the flight line. The air chilled my lungs as I mounted the berms and ran up out of the ditches. Carl had already got the Auxiliary Power Unit running but the Chinook 100 metres to our left was empty. The RAF guys only need five minutes to flash up a Chinook. As soon as I slammed my cockpit door shut, Carl threw forward the engine power levers and our rotors began to turn. A minute later, he radioed into the Ops Room.

‘Ugly Five One, ready.’

We waited for the Chinook – then it dawned on us: the IRT / HRF pair had just left. This one was not due out for two hours, so the crews would have been sleeping during the shout. Another busy day for the RAF. Just as the Chinook started to turn and burn, the second surprise of the day arrived. ‘Ugly Five One, this is Ops, hold. The CH47 will go down alone. Wait out for more information.’

Now what was this about?

‘Look who’s coming,’ Carl said. Billy and Geordie ran across the flight line towards the Apache alongside us as the Chinook lifted and thundered over their heads.

‘Ugly Five One, this is Ops. You will be joined by Ugly Five Zero. You are now going to RIP with Five Two and Five Three down in Garmsir. RIP time is 0820 hours.’

‘Ugly Five One copied.’

‘Ugly Five Two will brief you en route. Out.’ We’d be lucky if we could make that.

So we’re going to do a Relief in Place with 3 Flight. We rarely did unplanned RIPs on deliberate attacks. There just weren’t the spare aircraft or crews. It meant only one thing – life was under immediate threat down there, and would continue to be for the foreseeable. Things had obviously gone badly wrong.

Billy and Geordie flashed up in record quick time, ‘Ugly Five Zero Flight Airborne at 08:01 hours.’

‘Ops, good luck.’

A minute into the flight, Billy came through on the Apache FM radio net. ‘Ed, I’ve got a problem mate. Both our VU radios are tits. Crypto has dropped out; we have no secure voice.’

‘Bloody typical,’ Carl said.

‘Copied Billy. What do you want to do?’

Carl was right. This was a certifiable pain in the arse. Billy was down as mission commander for the day, as he’d planned to requalify Geordie on his flying skills if we were called out. Losing his VU radios meant he was off both the mission net for the operation and the Helmand-wide air net. The only people he could speak to securely over his two remaining FM radios now were the other Apache crews and our Ops Room – that meant nobody on the ground down at Jugroom, and not even the JTAC, so he’d have no way of following the battle. Normally we’d have gone back and Billy and Geordie would have jumped in the spare. There was only one answer when the clock was ticking for an urgent RIP like this, and we all knew it.

‘Screw it, let’s press on. Nick is already well short of gas.’

The mission commander was now flying deaf.

‘You better take tactical lead, Ed.’

‘Okay. My lead. Carl will relay.’

‘Copied. Thanks.’

I was now the point man with the outside world, while Carl listened in on the mission net and repeated everything to Billy and Geordie on the FM channel. Billy had to maintain command of the mission though, as he’d had a more comprehensive briefing on the battle. In our Apache I had mission lead but Carl was still the aircraft captain; we hadn’t had time to change our paperwork earlier that morning.

Billy sent an encrypted burst transmission. ‘Check data, Ed.’

With the push of a button Jugroom’s coordinates joined the tactical situational display on my MPD’s black map – the fort’s four corners were outlined alongside the firebase overlooking it on the western side of the river, six klicks east of our artillery’s gun line in the desert.

‘Good Data.’

The TADS was cool now so I readied it for the mission. The focus had jammed close up on me, making it utterly useless. The FLIR was shagged but at least the day TV camera was working. It was like opening a bag of tools to find you had a pair of pliers but no adjustable spanner. I could still do my job but it was going to be that much harder.

I broke the news to the rest of the flight, which was greeted by more groans from Carl. Billy would have to sort out all the thermal imagery we needed. This was getting complicated, even for seasoned multi-taskers.

We were cruising at 138 mph at an altitude of 5,000 feet, heading on the most direct line south over the GAFA, with Billy and Geordie about half a mile back to our left. It was a sixty-two-mile flight directly into the low and blinding winter sun. Even my visor couldn’t save me from having to squint.