by Kevin Wright
Besides photographic targets the Chipmunk was sometimes asked to carry out other forms of reconnaissance. Bob Hamilton remembers being tasked to overfly Werneuchen airfield, a MiG-25 Foxbat base. They were given special approval to overfly the base, its hangars and storage facilities whilst holding a detector connected to a sealed aluminium box, supplied by an unknown department, out of the cockpit. On the second, or third, pass a Foxbat was vectored to chase them off. The Foxbat is a big, fast aircraft and was not to be tangled with. Discretion being the better part of valour the Chipmunk made a ‘tactical withdrawal’ to the safety of West Berlin. They never found out what, if anything, the box had detected.
Conduct of Flights
Until 1960 there was a relaxed, almost laissez-faire attitude to the flights. They were planned at HQ BRIXMIS in the Olympic Stadium in West Berlin and the plan was approved by the Deputy Chief BRIXMIS. About two hours before departure the pilot submitted the flight plan to the BASC, so the Soviets were well informed of the flight. At RAF Gatow the pilot ‘self-authorised’ the flight in the authorisation book with ‘Gatow – Berlin Ring Photo’ entered in the Duty column, so here was another opportunity for compromise. The flights at this time were seen as a cost-effective substitute for ground tours in the BCZ area with the emphasis on the liaison and ‘flag showing’ part of the BRIXMIS role. The crew travelled to Gatow in whatever transport was available, including private cars, and boarded the aircraft on the pan outside the hangar. The flight was flown at between 500ft and 1,500ft. On return the crew disembarked outside the hangar and returned to BRIXMIS HQ.
This somewhat carefree world came to an end after the 1960–62 restrictions when concerns about the potential compromise of the photographic flights and crew grew significantly. The flight plan was now submitted to the GOC (Berlin) for his personal approval in writing after consulting the BMG. This approval was seen as the final opportunity to stop the flight. There was, however, a back-stop in the form of the standard RAF flight authorisation procedure. This ensured that the crew were competent to operate the aircraft, understood their brief and were aware of any limitations. So, in extremis, the RAF Gatow authorising officer – the Station Commander or Wing Commander (Operations) – as the only officers allowed to authorise the BRIXMIS flights, could be contacted to stop it. This never happened.
To maintain the cover story the conduct of all flights was the same, so there was no procedural difference between a ‘clean’ flight and a photographic one. The crew travelled to Gatow in ordinary service transport, not the distinctively marked BRIXMIS vehicles. They wore uniforms and flying clothing devoid of any accoutrements that identified them as BRIXMIS personnel. At Gatow the crew entered the hangar by the back door. They donned helmets and goggles before boarding the aircraft whilst still in the hangar. The aircraft was then pushed out onto the pan in front of the hangar and started.16 Such precautions were regarded as necessary because the watchtower at the Gross Glienicke East German Border Guard installation that overlooked RAF Gatow was known to be equipped with long-lens cameras and long-range directional microphones, operated by trained personnel, to monitor airfield activity. This meant that conversations outside the hangar were restricted just to those necessary for the aircraft’s operation.
It soon became apparent that the early practice of the pilot in the front and the observer in the rear limited the latter’s ability to photograph targets because of the restricted view.17 Additionally it meant that the cockpit had to be fully open when undertaking photography, which did not contribute to the crew’s comfort, especially in winter. So the arrangement was reversed in the early 1960s when the observer began occupying the front seat, where he had a better view to acquire targets and carry out photography, and the pilot moved to the rear.18 This meant that the Chipmunk’s canopy needed only to be partially opened for photography, making for a slightly more comfortable environment, at least for the pilot.
Photographic flights conformed to VFR flight rules, which meant the pilot was totally responsible for collision avoidance. David Cockburn’s Chipmunk training at the CFS had taught him to fly the aircraft from the front seat. He had not been trained for the ‘back-seat driving’ required in Berlin, so the unit’s Qualified Flying Instructor (QFI) had to remedy this deficiency. The VFR regime and the low-level operating regime (1,000ft and lower) meant that his recently hard-earned instrument rating was apparently not required, although the vagaries of the Berlin weather often brought it into play to ensure a safe return to base.
Once airborne from Gatow, flights were flown in a clockwise direction and would last up to two and a half hours. Anti-clockwise flights were sometimes used depending on the weather and the individual observer’s preference. Operating altitudes were normally around 800ft, with 500ft reserved for special occasions, or requirements. Routes were planned to pass over as many installations as possible. Early morning flights were often a very useful way of detecting convoys and troop movements, whose locations could then be passed on to the BRIXMIS local ground tours for further investigation.19
To maintain the cover story the ‘clean’ flights were flown in the same manner as the photographic sorties and ranged throughout the BCZ with two crew. The non-operational flights were normally flown at between 1,500 and 2,500ft with no cameras or other sensitive equipment on board. If BRIXMIS personnel formed the crew, or part of it, on non-operational flights, they were used as an excuse for navigation exercises to become familiar with the major installations and the BCZ’s exact boundaries, beyond which they were not allowed to fly. If the non-operational flights had just remained in the Gatow circuit, it would have probably drawn unwanted attention to the photographic flights.
Flights were supposed to remain inside the BCZ but they sometimes operated on its fringes or just beyond. Werneuchen airfield in the north-east was half in and half out of the BCZ as was an engineer barracks and co-located SAM site at Glau in the south-west. In the late 1960s and early to mid 1970s, photographs were acquired of Finow airfield and a buried antenna that were well outside the BCZ.20 Apart from a few such deliberately tasked sorties outside the boundary, other incursions into GDR airspace were the result of a crew ‘becoming temporarily uncertain of their position’ – i.e. lost! By the 1980s the BCZ boundary was regarded as sacrosanct and strictly enforced. Although installations outside the BCZ were photographed, the aircraft remained within its boundaries.
On return to Gatow, regardless of the flight’s purpose, the procedure was the reverse of that for departure. The aircraft was taxied up to the hangar and the engine shut down. The Chipmunk was then pushed into the hangar, doors closed, with the crew disembarking and exiting via the back door. The front hangar doors were then reopened and the aircraft pushed out for refuelling, after which it was pushed back in again before the doors were finally closed. This procedure was described by Peter Kirkpatrick, a member of the Gatow ASF, as the ‘proverbial pain’.
The crew then returned to the BRIXMIS HQ, in West Berlin, where the sortie was debriefed and recorded and the film processed and initially evaluated by BRIXMIS staff before being sent to the PI units at Rheindahlen for detailed analysis. One of the problems experienced during this debriefing phase was correctly recording the targets, film and frame numbers and the time-on-target. If crew notes were wrong, many hours of innocent amusement could be spent identifying individual targets, films and frames on the 20-plus rolls of film generated by the flight. In the 1970s this problem was solved using a senior NCO, who supported the SO2 Weapons Officer, always being an Intelligence Corps PI, with recent 6 Intelligence Company experience, who therefore had intimate knowledge of BCZ targets.
Techniques
A successful photographic sortie required a combination of strong crew co-operation, skill, determination and stamina to achieve the objective of bringing back high-quality photographs for exploitation. Excellent crew communication and co-operation were vital to success. Pilot and observer had to work together and understand what each was doin
g at all times during the flight. High-level navigational skills, a knowledge of local targets, order of battle, quick thinking and good airmanship all contributed to a successful flight. These qualities came to the fore if a sortie had to be replanned in-flight because of significant activity or important equipment sightings. Although the observer was equipped with a microphone, he could not talk to the pilot on the aircraft’s intercommunication system because the assumption was that all electromagnetic emissions, even those within the cockpit, could be intercepted by the network of Soviet and East German static listening posts around Berlin and the Soviet air-related electronic countermeasures (ECM) regiment at Schönwalde, who were always looking for actual Western targets on which to practise. Consequently, hand signals and shouting were the normal communication methods.
Unlike the French and US aircraft, the Chipmunk had a low-set wing that limited the observer’s view and often obscured the camera’s view of the target when flying straight and level. Successful photography called for flying techniques that would cause an apoplectic fit to flying purists. To ensure that the observer had an unobstructed view of the target, the forward part of the canopy had to be opened, producing a considerable draught from the slipstream. Whilst this could be relatively pleasant during the warmer months, it was very uncomfortable in the colder ones, with the combination of sub-zero temperatures and slipstream producing a chill factor that whistled around the crew’s exposed, and not so exposed, bits. To operate the camera the observer had to wear either thin gloves or no gloves at all. Long focal length lenses had to be kept within the confines of the cockpit so they were not buffeted by the slipstream and held sufficiently steady to achieve optimum results. To achieve this steadiness the observer often had to lean backwards across the cockpit with his head out of the other side, directly in the icy blast.
To acquire the best possible images pilots positioned their aircraft so that the target was kept in a fairly constant position relative to the aircraft’s movement. A steady, sometimes steeply banked, turn, whilst maintaining altitude was used to ensure that the camera could be kept on target. These turns were mainly to the left because few people can naturally take photographs out of the right side of a cockpit and it gave the observer a better angle to look to the left. During these turns the observer fine-tuned the aiming, focusing and exposure. This turning technique often resulted in the aircraft fuel load becoming unbalanced. To restore it the Chipmunk would have to ‘skid’ the opposite way between targets. This technique and the low-altitude turbulence that was always encountered made for ‘challenging flying!’21
The observer/photographer was always a very busy man. With only limited time to keep the target in the viewfinder he needed to act instinctively and cope with the skidding technique if he was to get good photographs. The low-altitude turbulence and restricted view through the viewfinder, often at 90 degrees to the direction of flight, was enough to turn the strongest stomach. Even the most hardened and experienced aircrew regularly suffered the symptoms of motion sickness. He also needed a good knowledge of aerial photographic and film uprating techniques. Besides all the normal flight paraphernalia such as target maps and recording media, he had two camera bodies fitted with different lenses as standard to reduce the need for in-flight lens changes, a time-consuming and awkward procedure. When a lens change was needed it often meant a film change too because the film speed needed to be compatible with the new lens. Film would be routinely uprated when using the 500mm and 1,000mm lenses, so that the higher shutter speed necessary to minimise camera shake was achievable and to ensure there was sufficient light to provide properly exposed images. In winter, photographic light time was short and light levels lower, so the film was uprated to 6400 ASA. As well as managing these problems between targets the observer also had to make a note of the target name, the time-on-target, the film number, frame numbers covering each target and notes of any significant items or incidents.
If the observer was particularly busy, the pilot would take over recording duties, leaving the observer free to concentrate on photography. Pilots were also trained as observers, becoming familiar with camera operation and the photographic techniques employed. This also meant that if no observer was available they could assume the role.
Flight Hazards
Flight hazards mainly came from three sources: avoiding other air traffic, the possibility of a forced landing in the GDR or East Berlin and the hostile intent (and sometimes behaviour) of Soviet and East German troops. Avoiding other VFR air traffic at the lower levels in the BCZ was not just a matter of watching out for Soviet and East German aircraft but also Allied ones. The AMLMs co-ordinated their air activities, but until the 1980s this was somewhat haphazard. The reality was that a sharp lookout had to be kept for other aircraft, especially if there was a lot of activity at a particular location, or a new piece of equipment had made an appearance that everyone wanted to photograph. Sometimes the Chipmunk arrived over a target on its allocated day and time only to find one of the other Allied aircraft already there – consternation all round.
Crews had to be alert for Russian and East German air activity, especially in the vicinity of the fast jet base at Werneuchen, on the north-eastern boundary of the BCZ, and the helicopter base at Oranienburg inside the Zone. Tangling with Werneuchen’s MiG-25 Foxbats or Oranienburg’s Mi-6 Hook or Mi-8 Hip helicopters would not have had a happy outcome. Russian and East German airborne reaction to the Chipmunk usually involved flying in close proximity and exchanging ‘friendly’ waves. On one occasion, however, the Chipmunk was subjected to aggressive flying by a pair of Mi-24 Hind helicopters that apparently tried to force it down.22 Werneuchen airfield, because of its location, the aircraft based there and the many ‘intelligence priority’ types that frequently staged through, was a high-priority target for both Corridor and BCZ missions. But there were inconsistencies in Soviet attitudes and protests. At times the response to overflights would be robust and provoke protests. At others, as Roy Marsden has described, ground crews would sometimes wave to them as the Chipmunk appeared overhead. Others experienced a full air display routine directly above the airfield, from a Chipmunk pilot coming to the end of his tour in Berlin, with no protest at all. He asserts that the Soviets never admitted there was anything of importance in the BCZ because drawing attention to activities at the airfield would have been tantamount to admitting just how important it was.23
The biggest concern for Chipmunk crews was the possibility of a forced landing in the GDR or East Berlin, for whatever reason. In the event of engine failure it was unlikely that the aircraft would have been within gliding range of West Berlin, so it was pretty certain that a forced landing would be in either the GDR or East Berlin. Flying below 1,000ft gave the crew little time to respond to emergencies – about two minutes at 1,000ft – before the inevitable landing. David Cockburn said: ‘If anything did go wrong with the aircraft when flying at 800ft there was little enough time to select a suitable landing area, let alone dispose of the evidence!’ If the aircraft and crew had been found on the ground with the cameras, maps and notes it would have been totally incriminating and handed the Soviets clear proof of ‘spying’ unless a very, very convincing cover story was in place. So during the descent the crew were expected not just to find a suitable landing place, but to destroy any potentially incriminating evidence to provide the all-important ‘deniability’.
The official disposal instructions were for the crew to put cameras, film and other potentially incriminating evidence such as marked target maps and records into a bag provided for the purpose and then drop it into the nearest lake, of which there are plenty around Berlin.24 If this was not possible, the cameras were to be placed in the compartment behind the rear seat in the somewhat forlorn hope that any searchers would not discover them. Roy Marsden believed that the Soviets had diving teams on standby to search any lakes into which a bag might have been dropped. The crews’ preferred solution was to land the aircraft in the nearest suitable
place, drain some fuel from the tanks and then set fire to it with the kit onboard in the hopes that the evidence would be destroyed.25 All this presumed that the crew were still sufficiently compos mentis after the ‘landing’ to do so. If they were unable to destroy the evidence before the authorities arrived, the crews carried a couple of pre-exposed films in the hope that they could convince the Soviets that, although they were carrying cameras, their purpose was ‘innocent’. Disposal of exposed film presented its own problems. Before the 1980s the crew would simply open the film cassettes and pull the film out, exposing it to daylight. In the 1980s, as Bob Hamilton remembers, because of the amount of film carried, both crew members carried an old-fashioned beer can opener on their flying overalls. This could be used to flip off the ends of the film cassettes and expose the films to daylight. As Bob says, ‘It was all a bit Heath Robinson but worked well in practice.’26 However, with all these potential dangers it is testimony to the reliability of the Chipmunk’s De Havilland Gypsy Major engine, and the skills of the RAF engineers at the RAF Gatow ASF, that there was never a loss of an aircraft due to engine or mechanical failure during the operation’s forty-four years. But there were close calls. On 17 June 1957, Hans Neubroch accompanied by Major Pilsbury experienced a partial engine failure at 1,500ft, when the engine would not advance beyond 1,000rpm, which was insufficient to maintain level flight but enough to carry out a powered descent into a landing place of choice. A successful precautionary landing was made at Tempelhof.
