Harrier Boys: Volume 1 - Cold War through the Falklands, 1969-1990

By Robert Marston

In Harrier Boys, Volume One: Cold War Through the Falklands, 1969-1990, Robert Marston, who flew Harriers for many years, draws together accounts from others who worked with this unique jet through its history. The excitement, camaraderie and pride of Harrier operators shine through in the personal stories of those whose lives were changed by their experience of this iconic aircraft, both on land and at sea. In this first volume, events of the Cold War years are brought to life by contributors including Graham Williams, who flew the Transatlantic Air Race, Peter Dodworth, a member of the original Harrier Conversion Team, Peter Harris, a participant in the early defense of Belize, Sir Peter Squire, OC 1 (F) Squadron during the Falklands conflict, and Australian Dave Baddams, who commanded the Royal Navy Sea Harriers of 800 Squadron.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grub Street Publishing
• Release date: Oct 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781910690826

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A RACING START

The Harrier isn’t the biggest or the fastest aircraft. It doesn’t carry the greatest weapons load. It may not even be the sleekest machine of its generation. Yet there is something special about the Harrier that makes its name known among the general public more than that of most other aircraft of its time, and that has bred pride and affection among those that have worked with it. In reading the collected accounts of the experience of those people, you will hopefully get a sense of what it is like to have been a member of that community.

The technical history of the Harrier is amply covered in many other books, but here, we dwell on the memories that it has produced. It first entered service with the RAF in 1969, providing a wonderfully versatile capability for over 40 years, until December 2010. Halfway through its RAF life, it was updated to make it a significantly different machine, at the same time as the Cold War came to an end and the Harrier’s potential utilisation changed markedly. Its maritime cousin, the Sea Harrier, had a shorter UK service life, from 1980 to 2006, and also benefitted from a major mid-life update. Other nations, most notably the USA, began operating the Harrier later than the RAF, but ironically have continued to use and believe in the jet well after the UK versions were retired from service.

The 1960s was such an adventurous decade; anything seemed possible. Just 66 years after the Wright brothers’ first tentative foray into powered flight, men walked on the moon. Concorde flew, offering the prospect of supersonic commercial air travel. While the Cold War still foreshadowed the possibility of nuclear Armageddon, this was tempered by the relief of having survived the Cuban missile crisis. The UK was full of confidence, with the English football team reigning as world cup champions, the Beatles ruling the world of pop music, swinging London’s Carnaby Street being the centre of all that was fashionable, and the Union Jack proudly displayed on products epitomising the quality of British goods. At the forefront of the British technological offerings were world-beating military aircraft produced by rival companies. Thus, it was appropriate that the Harrier entered military service with the RAF in 1969, a true product of the exciting 60s.

In the 60s, prizes were still being offered for achievements in aviation, and one such from the Daily Mail led to the 1969 Transatlantic Air Race. A very public event, it attracted widespread interest, from both spectators and competitors. With the Harrier not yet operational, and with many development tests still to be completed, it would be an exceptionally bold move to consider using it in such a race. But that is exactly what the RAF decided to do. Among their busy schedule of tests, the development test pilots were given this extra task to complete, which they did with remarkable success. Indeed, the air race subsumed trials to prove the ability of the Harrier to undertake long endurance flights and to refuel in mid-air. One of those test pilots was Squadron Leader Graham Williams, who went on to complete other challenging test flights, and later to command a Harrier squadron as OC 3 (F) Squadron in Germany. Here, he tells of his experiences in the race, while the subsequent trials work is described in a later chapter. Having read Graham’s account, I understand better a later experience of my own. When I was an OCU QFI, there was a proposal to re-run the shorter Arch to Arc Air Race (from the Marble Arch in London to the Arc de Triomphe in Paris). I suggested to my boss that this was just the job for the two-seat Harrier. His reply contained two words, the second of which was off.

GRAHAM WILLIAMS: THE GREAT AIR RACE

You probably don’t remember – indeed it was even before my time – that the Daily Mail put up a prize of £10,000 just after the First World War for the first non-stop crossing of the Atlantic by air. It was of course Alcock and Brown who won the prize in 1919 in their Vickers Vimy, landing famously in an Irish bog. Anyway, early in 1969, the Daily Mail decided to commemorate the 50th anniversary of this achievement by sponsoring an air race between the UK and the USA and a return race in the opposite direction.

The start and end points were to be the top of the tallest buildings in each country – the GPO Tower in London and the Empire State Building in the USA. There were to be a number of different categories to encourage as many entries as possible. The most significant of these were for aircraft which were supersonic in level flight, subsonic aircraft both civil and military, commercial airliners, piston-engined aircraft and any form of flying vehicle such as a glider or balloon – although no one to my knowledge competed in that last category.

Each entry was to be for a single individual, either as a passenger or pilot, and the prizes were to be for the fastest in each category in either direction. The US military were going to enter with their supersonic bomber, the B58 Hustler, which would have won the race by a country mile, but the Vietnam war made their participation politically inadvisable, so they withdrew. However the Royal Navy entered their F4 Phantoms and the RAF entered a team using the Victor. Unusually, because it was a somewhat bold decision so early in an aircraft’s life, the RAF also decided to enter a team using the Harrier which was due to enter service on 1 April 1969, just in time for the race.

This decision to participate was taken early in the year. However there was just one little snag to this plan with the Harrier. The aircraft was still undergoing acceptance testing at Boscombe Down and no Harrier had flown more than a two-hour sortie or carried out any air-to-air refuelling. The equipment had not even been fitted to the aircraft and there were only a handful of pilots qualified on the airplane. We did not have long-range fuel tanks although we did have some wingtip extensions which did give the aircraft a little more range and still let us cruise at up to 0.9M or 550kts. There were in fact just three RAF pilots qualified and current on the aircraft in January 1969. Mike Adams, who was the RAF liaison pilot with the company at Dunsfold, Tom Lecky-Thompson who was the project pilot at Boscombe Down and myself, also at Boscombe but with very little time on the aircraft.

Mike Adams was nominated as the lead pilot flying from the UK to the US, Tom was going to fly back and I was the reserve. None of us were particularly experienced. Mike had about 100 hours on the Harrier, Tom about 50 and myself about 20. I was not particularly concerned as I did not think it likely that my services would be called for. In any case I considered the whole thing to be a somewhat risky venture and not something that you do with an aircraft that early in its life. That was until Mike Adams had an accident a couple of months before the event when the nosewheel sheared off the aircraft as he was taxiing out and totally did his back in. Suddenly, I was in the hot seat and the Air Force Board, being slightly concerned by my lack of experience ruled that I had to have at least 50 hours before I could participate. In the event that was fairly easy to achieve as we had to do all the air refuelling trials and long endurance flights which involved seven-hour trips three times round the UK, mainly to measure oil and oxygen consumption.

Then there was the little problem of finding somewhere for us to take off and land in the middle of London and New York. You have to remember that the Harrier at this stage was not well known even in the UK. And when you tried to describe it to people in the US – a jet fighter that could land and take off vertically – they thought that you had been smoking something funny. Tom and Mike Adams did most of the searching in New York. Central Park was ruled out because the large grassy areas were reserved for the president’s helicopters. The roof area of Gutland Bus Station was ideal – it measured 100 x 50 metres and had good approach and departure lanes. I understand that the meeting with the management went really well until the owners asked for a description of the aircraft. They were suitably impressed and they then asked when the US had sold the aircraft to the UK. The response produced a sudden lack of interest and help.

There were further problems with the State of New York Authority and with the police although the latter came over on to our side as they had a considerable number of private and ex-military pilots. Finally we came across a jetty into the East River just off 25th Street East in Manhattan. This was in fact called Bristol Basin as it was where cargo ships had dumped their ballast in WWII, which consisted largely of rubble from Bristol. The US marines promised to lay a 96ft square pad for us (massive compared to our more normal 50ft square), because they wanted to buy the Harrier to stop the US Navy from usurping their fixed-wing capability. Much more work was then required to persuade the FAA to let us fly up the East River at high speed because, in the US, no aircraft were allowed to fly above 250kts below 10,000ft. The team finally got permission to fly over Long Island via the middle of JFK airport at 550kts/1,500ft before turning up the East River and returned to the UK with the agreement fully drafted.

But the difficulties we met in the US were nothing compared to those that we met in the UK. I looked at a number of sites in London. For some reason the parks were deemed a no-go area. We did, in desperation, look at a building site adjacent to Regents Park but it involved taking down a number of trees. It was, in any case, a somewhat gamey proposition. We finally found the disused coal yard at St Pancras railway station, which was ideally situated. The approach was to come in from Alexandra Palace, straight down the railway line into the station. The departure, controlled by Heathrow, required a steep climb to 36,000ft within 25 to 30 miles. The objections were finally overcome when we threatened to publicize the cooperation we had received from the US authorities compared to the lack of it at home.

Three aircraft were earmarked for the race, only one of which was fitted with the new inertial navigation and attack system (INAS) and head-up display and Tom used that one. We progressively increased the time airborne from two hours to eight hours ensuring that oil consumption was within limits and that we had enough oxygen. We were also checked out on flight refuelling, ensuring that the system worked and then enlarged the envelope so that we could refuel at high speed and very high level. Fortunately the limiting speeds of the Harrier and the Victor tankers were about the same, giving us an optimum cruise of 0.88M at 38,000ft. The Victor normally had three refuelling hoses, one on each wing and one on the centreline. We decided to use only the centreline hose to decrease drag on the Victor although this did mean that we always had to have at least two tankers for refuelling in case of a problem with one of the hoses. And, as the Harrier took on the maximum fuel load, the power from the engine was not quite sufficient to stay plugged in. So the technique was to ask the tanker to ‘toboggan’, which involved the tanker reducing power a bit and easing downhill so that we could stay in contact.

Graham Williams in Manhattan. (G Williams)

The air race refuelling plan was very complex, involving a large number of the Victor tanker fleet. Three tankers had to be airborne before we took off and we met up with them at the top of climb literally minutes after take-off. You have to remember that the amount of fuel we could take off with was limited to about 15 minutes by the fact that we had to perform a vertical take-off. Then three more tankers would refuel the first three which would then accompany us across the pond. Because of the lack of long-range tanks, I was scheduled to do seven refuellings. This was rather more than absolutely necessary because when you get to the middle of the Atlantic you need to do a number of quick top-ups to make sure that you can always make a diversion if necessary. Breaking the refuelling probe – a not unknown event – could be extremely embarrassing to put it mildly.

I had to leave some weeks before the event to organise and finalise things in the US. I just had time to have a quick look at our proposed landing site in St Pancras before we left as it was not finalised until then. Two aircraft had to be available at either end to cater for the possibility of a major unserviceability, so one aircraft had to be prepositioned in the US before the race. This was used as a dress rehearsal and Tom flew an aircraft out to the US whilst I travelled by courtesy of BOAC. However he was not allowed to use St Pancras for the take-off or the site in Manhattan for landing for fear of upsetting the applecart. So he took off from Northolt and landed at Floyd Bennett which was a US Navy airfield on Long Island which we had taken over for the exercise. I seem to remember that we had the odd beer or two that evening followed by a very good dinner given by Hawker Siddeley, the maker of the aircraft, before pouring Tom onto a BOAC aircraft back to the UK.

This all took place in the week before the race which was scheduled to happen on any day in the first two weeks of May. And I had to wait until Tom had done the east-west leg so that we would have a spare aircraft available for the return trip. I was fairly busy during that time. I had a rehearsal with the tankers checking on the rendezvous technique; then a couple of air tests and a demonstration on Long Island. One thing I remember more than anything was being asked to appear on the Johnny Carson show. The embassy was delighted as they were always trying to get people on the show with very little success. I personally was terrified. I was interviewed by one of Carson’s staffers who asked me all sorts of questions about New York. I had been less than impressed as the place in those days was pretty scruffy and I said so. Imagine my horror when I arrived for the actual show to be given a script which repeated all this verbatim. Carson’s chief of staff, who was actually a retired USMC pilot, told me not to worry. And he was right. Carson, who I understand could be very difficult, went out of his way to be kind and I survived the interview without any major mishap. The other guests that night were Mamie Van Doren, Alan Funk (the founder of Candid Camera), and Sergio Franchi who was an actor/singer (no, I hadn’t heard of him either and I’ve never seen him since). Mamie Van Doren, who was a sort of poor man’s Marilyn Monroe/Jayne Mansfield, was surprisingly gracious.

Tom flew his leg of the race on Monday 5 May. It was a beautifully clear day and he landed without incident on the pad at Bristol Basin and rushed off on a motorbike to get to the top of the Empire State Building. I was left to take the aircraft back to Floyd Bennett. So after we had put a little bit of fuel in it, I climbed in to prepare for the flight to find that everything was covered in coal dust. It was almost knee deep in the stuff. And that was when I learned about the characteristics of the coal yard at St Pancras. There were years and years of coal dust in the cobbles – it was a cobbled yard – and the Harrier had taken off in a black cloud of the stuff with half of it ending up in the cockpit. By the time I got back to Floyd Bennett, which was only a few minutes flying time from Manhattan, I was covered in coal dust as well.

Then it was a matter of waiting for ideal weather conditions for me to do the US to UK leg. The main concern was the wind which could make a substantial difference to the time even in a Harrier, especially if we could pick up a jet stream which could give us an extra 100kts if we were lucky. But we also needed a favourable forecast for London and, as it turned out, luck was not to be on our side.

Whilst I was waiting another event of some significance occurred. The Harrier had naturally caused quite a bit of interest, to put it mildly, especially after we were the reason for a seven-car pile-up on the road past the Bristol Basin caused by drivers watching us and not the road. Tuesday evening and we’re sitting in a pub in Manhattan – I even remember the fact that they were serving Watneys Red Barrel (ice cold of course). As is usual in most bars in the US, they had a television on and we were watching the news. And they announced that the QEII was going to arrive in New York on its maiden transatlantic crossing the following day. Naturally we took umbrage at the fact that they were stealing the limelight off us; so we decided to do something about it. We decided that the best thing we could do was hover either side of the bridge after it had passed through the Verrazano Narrows and into the East River. So first thing in the morning we set about getting the necessary clearances which proved to be remarkably easy. More problematical was getting clearance from the RAF and my guess was that the answer would be an emphatic no. So I decided to ignore that requirement and do it in any case and beg for forgiveness after the event And that was what we did, to much public acclaim. Strangely there was not a single word of approbation from the RAF. Indeed an air marshal who shall be nameless tried to take the credit for the idea. I was never sure whether he was just protecting our backsides or not.

We were invited by the captain of the QEII to his arrival cocktail party but unfortunately we could not attend as I was expecting to leave early on the following morning. But the winds were still unfavourable, so we delayed yet another day. Time was beginning to run out and we were going to be forced to go whether we liked it or not. I decided that come hell or high water I would go on Friday morning. The winds were still not very favourable and the weather was abominable – very low cloud and rain coming down in stair rods. Indeed the weather was so bad that Kennedy airport was closed and the whole of the east coast was blanked out. The nearest diversion airfield was hundreds of miles away which was in any case out of range for me if I missed the tankers at the top of climb. I was so psyched up that nothing was going to stop me so, despite the adverse weather, I decided to go. So I clocked out of the Empire State Building early in the morning, came down the elevators and leapt in to my waiting E Type Jag. The top was down and we seemed to hit every red light in Manhattan and by the time we got to Bristol Basin I was absolutely soaked. I climbed into the aircraft and there were all sorts of people, FAA inspectors, police and so on who seemed to be determined to stop me from going because of the weather. The most important of these was the FAA man who had the power to stop it. However he was engaged in conversation by Bill Bedford, who was the original test pilot of the P1127 and the Harrier, whilst I started the aircraft.

XV741 and XV744 hovering alongside QEII in New York. (G Williams)

By then it was too late to stop me and I wound it up to full power, did a very wobbly vertical take-off because the aircraft was very heavy and accelerated off into the cloud and rain. I had all sorts of trouble with the instruments which did not seem willing to co-operate and the cockpit misted up very badly because of all the moisture. So it was with a certain amount of relief that I struggled out of the cloud tops at 38,000ft and then had a couple of minutes to sort myself out before moving on to the next problem – rendezvousing with the tankers. The only aid we had for this was air-to-air Tacan which just gave you a distance from the tanker. The initial RV was meant to be at 36,000ft over Boston which was, of course, in cloud on the day. The Tacan did lock on and the tankers were where they were meant to be – as ever. And I picked them up as they were head on to me trailing just in the cloud tops.

They turned and it was with a great deal of relief that I plugged in to the tanker and took on a full load of fuel. It turned out that the whole of the east coast was weathered out so it was just as well. And it did not start clearing until we got to Newfoundland, which was my second refuelling point. I had three tankers with me to ensure that there would be enough spare capacity if even one or two of the tankers malfunctioned. But even they could not make the transatlantic trip and provide me with fuel without refuelling themselves. So three more tankers met us over Newfoundland and with perfect timing turned so that they were in front of my original tankers which then plugged into the front lot and refuelled them. Sitting alone in my little Harrier I could not help but be impressed by the precision and professionalism of these tanker guys.

The rest of the journey across the Atlantic was really pretty uneventful. I air-to-air refuelled six times in all, once again because of the necessity to do a number of very quick top-up refuels in mid Atlantic to make sure that you always have enough fuel to make a diversion in case of an emergency. My major concern was the weather over London. If it was anything like New York, I was going to be in deep trouble trying to find the landing site at St Pancras. As I got close to Shannon I got a weather report for London and it was absolutely clear – 13nms visibility, and 1/8th cloud at 2,800ft. It could not have been better. There had in fact been a thunderstorm earlier in the afternoon and as often happens after, it had cleared up to blue skies and almost unlimited visibility. So I declined my last air-to-air refuel and started my descent to London from over Limerick, winding the speed up to 550kts. I had to arrive at St Pancras with just the right amount of fuel – like the ad, not too much, not too little but just right – so that I could make the vertical landing. I could see Ally Pally from quite a long way out and just pointed at it, ran over the top and turned hard right and followed the railway line straight in to St Pancras. I was so relieved at finding everything as advertised that I nearly forgot to slow down and ended up doing one of the fastest decelerating transitions to the hover before flopping on to the landing pad.

At this stage I thought I was going to be taken by motorbike to the GPO Tower. I was met by a motorbike and he just took me a few yards and shovelled me in to a helo. Two minutes later I was dumped on a platform and I had no idea where I was. It was in fact just close to the tower and I ran across following the gesticulations of the crowd, got in the lift up to the top and clocked in at 5 hours 49 minutes and 58.52 seconds.

Graham on the motorcycle at St Pancras. (G Williams)

Tom won the London – New York leg and I was in fact beaten into second place for the New York – London leg by a guy who was flown as a passenger in a Victor Strategic Reconnaissance aircraft. It was the delay in getting from the Empire State to the aircraft that cost me time. But it did not matter really because we had had the opportunity to

Reviews for Harrier Boys

[jenianb · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An excellent "I was there..." collection of first hand Harrier stories. This volume takes us from service entry to the Falklands.Only complaint is that it is most light blue stories - the RN use of the Sea Harrier gets only token coverage during the Falklands.