‘After extracting our bags from the VC10, we were driven the three miles over the stark volcanic plains of Ascension Island and up the winding hill road to the relative calm and marginally cooler surrounds of the bungalow in ‘Two Boats’ settlement which would be home for the next few months.
Pilot, Flight Lieutenant Jim Norfolk and navigator, Flight Lieutenant Tom Rounds had already flown several long-distance sorties to the Task Force and passed on a wealth of knowledge and experience regarding naval procedures, weather and especially the techniques of operating the Hercules as its limits.
‘On 15 May I was asked to report with my crew to the Air Transport Ops at the airhead where we were briefed on our first AAR mission. This was to be an airdrop of eight parachutists and 1,000lb worth of stores to a ship, the RFA Fort Austin at a position approximately sixty miles north of Port Stanley airfield.3 The drop was scheduled for midafternoon of the following day which, since transit time would be almost thirteen hours, meant a takeoff time of 0230, less than twelve hours ahead. Time had suddenly become very much of the essence!
‘Because our overstretched ground crew were working all out to unload and refuel the constant stream of transiting aircraft, it was left to the aircrew to prepare our aircraft. My loadmaster (ALM) Mick Sephton and flight engineer, ‘Slug’ Sloane, aided by two other ALMs, Pete Scott and Roy Lewis, departed to start the lengthy process. Fuel tanks were filled, aircraft equipment checked, survival suits, life jackets and parachutes transferred from another Hercules and the 1,000lb load prepared and carefully rigged for parachuting. At the same time the pilots and navigators started flight planning. Three hours later, as the sun sank behind Green Mountain preparations were complete with the exception of the all important fuel and AAR plan. As nearly all the Victors were still airborne, refuelling as Vulcan en route to attack the Falklands, we had no way of knowing how many tankers would be available for our task until some hours later. My navigator, Jim Cunningham, volunteered to stay in the AAR planning cell and complete the planning, thereby allowing the rest of the crew to return to Two Boats to catch what sleep we could.
‘Back at Wideawake the crew rushed through an intelligence brief and then rejoined Jim Cunningham at the flight planning tent who had worked throughout the evening to complete his work. With Jim Norfolk’s help and the experience he had gained on his previous flights, I managed to work through the aircraft’s performance manual and calculated all the required speeds for our expected take-off weight.
‘Unfortunately, as this weight was above the maximum weight shown in the various performance graphs those speeds had to be extrapolated and were in fact nothing more than educated guesses. What I did know was that if we lost an engine during the take-off, the remaining three engines would be unable to produce enough power to keep us flying and would, therefore, be taking us directly to the scene of the crash! However, Jim Norfolk assured me that he had already made several take-offs at this weight and I was confident that the aircraft wouldn’t let us down.
Phantom FG.2 of 23 Squadron from Stanley taking on fuel from a C.Mk.1K during a sortie in December 1982. After the Falklands War 23 Squadron occupied Port Stanley airfield until reduced to a Flight of four aircraft in 1988, reforming at Leeming with Tornado F3s. (Mick Jennings)
C-130K C.1 XV296 (66-13539) refuelling two of the four Phantom FGR2s of 1435 Flight providing the defence of the Falkland Islands. In 1982 a detachment of Phantoms began providing the air defence of the islands once the airfield at Stanley was capable of operating Phantoms following the victory over Argentina. On 31 October 1988, when 23 Squadron converted to the new Tornado F.3, the Falklands-based Phantoms took the designation 1435 Flight.
‘It was a strangely quiet atmosphere as we completed our mission briefs, walked out to the aircraft and set about our individual pre-flight tasks. Survival suits were unpacked, parachutes checked, flak jackets issued and everything positioned ready for immediate use. I went into the freight bay to check on progress and was immediately struck by the lack of space. The four Andover fuel tanks filled the main cargo area, while the boxes containing the parachutists’’ equipment filled the ramp area. The chemical toilet that normally sat there had been removed and now sat in the middle of the freight bay between the forward and aft fuel tanks and offered no privacy to anyone who might have cause to use it. The eight troopers had found space in the webbing seats adjacent to the fuel tanks and were trying to create an area that might offer some comfort during the thirteen hours that they were going to be on board.
‘As the last few minutes before departure ticked away, there was little of the normal friendly ‘banter’; everyone seemed engrossed in their own little world, all pre-occupied with their individual thoughts. However, at the appointed time, the familiar ritual of the pre-start checks concentrated minds; the sleeping Hercules was slowly nursed into life and, with a ‘Good Luck’ from the Air Traffic Controller, we were cleared for take-off.
‘As I released the brakes, I noted the time as 0220 and wondered when we would be back on Ascension, but those thoughts quickly vanished as the aircraft gathered speed. As I anticipated, the take-off roll was much longer than normal but in answer to my tentative pull on the control column, XV200 rose slowly into the warm night air. I had never flown the Hercules this heavy before but the aircraft seemed to behave as normal; the only really noticeable difference was that everything seemed to be happening a little slower than usual. I wanted to have plenty of speed in hand before attempting any manoeuvering at this weight so, following a long period of acceleration, I slowly eased into a gently turning climb and, as the aircraft settled on course, the Southern Cross appeared off the nose, clearly visible among the myriad stars twinkling in the deep purple-black of the night sky.
‘Having stabilised in a cruise-climb at just under 16,000 feet, the next few hours passed fairly routinely although the crew were kept busy with hourly fuel calculations and checks. ALM Mick Sephton opened the galley and amazingly, produced freshly made egg and bacon sandwiches which were gratefully received and swiftly despatched. Dawn broke around 0600 and this, combined with copious amounts of hot, sweet coffee, restored the energy levels in preparation for the airborne refuel.
C-130J ZH889, which was delivered to the RAF in May 2000, flown by Wing Commander Rick Hobson over Wiltshire from RAF Lyneham on 9 September 2001. (MWB)
C-130J ZH889, which the author photographed air-to-air over Wiltshire on 9 November 2001 photographed (quite by chance) by same at Gibraltar on 21 February 2012! (MWB)
‘During the six-hour transit, we burned off about 30,000lbs of fuel, which allowed us to climb to just over 22,000 feet and as we approached the re-fuelling point I noted with some relief that area was clear, apart from some cumulo-nimbus clouds far below. They wouldn’t be a factor - or so I thought!
‘As I pondered the job ahead of me I was roused from my reverie by the harsh intrusion of the radio call from the approaching Victor. Having taken off from Ascension some time after the Hercules the much faster tanker had gradually closed the gap and was now only five miles behind. My co-pilot, Bob Rowley made a radio call in reply and after confirmation that all was ready, the delicate airborne ballet of air-to-air refuelling began.
‘Following the UK trials, it had been established that the AAR would have to be conducted at a minimum speed of 230 knots but the fully laden Hercules would be unable to maintain this speed in level flight. Therefore, the refuel would have to be done in a descent to allow both aircraft to maintain the required speed and ideal refuelling position - about 20 feet apart.
‘The slim, elegant shape of the Victor swiftly overtook the ungainly Hercules, stabilised itself just forward of the Hercules’ right wing and, on Rowley’s command, both aircraft began a gradual descent of about 500 feet per minute. Trying to keep my control inputs to a minimum, I carefully manoeuvred into a line astern position about twenty feet behind the Victor’s trailing refuelling hose and began my hook-up run. Under Bob’s calm directions and with th
e engineer monitoring the engines, the two giants slowly closed until the refuelling probe on top of the Hercules and the Victor’s dancing basket were only ten feet apart.
‘AAR has been described as ‘trying to spear a rolling doughnut’ and this was no exception. Time and again I edged my aircraft forward but each time failed to get the probe into the basket. Although I was getting frustrated with my inability to find the target, I had to put that aside and keep on trying but I was conscious that valuable fuel was being used up and the formation was getting lower and lower. Finally, as we passed through 17,000 feet and with my self-induced pressure becoming almost unbearable, at the sixth attempt a successful contact was made and fuel began to flow.
‘Transferring the required 37,000lb of fuel took thirty minutes and, towards the end, it was a real touch and go situation. By that time both aircraft had descended to Around 2,500 feet and we were dodging around the cumulo-nimbus clouds that I had assessed earlier as not being a problem!
‘Just maintaining contact in the turbulent, lowlevel air was proving very difficult and I knew that if I accidentally disconnected early I would not have the power to reconnect and the mission would be lo0st. Luckily, the tanker captain was on top of his game and skilfully led us around the worst of the big clouds and showers. After what seemed like an eternity, flight engineer Steve Sloane announced that the refuel was complete. With an enormous feeling of relief, I eased back on the power and with a soft clunk and a slight spray of fuel from the refuelling bracket, a clean disconnect was achieved.
‘I watched as the Victor completed a sweeping turn away from us and eased back northwards to Ascension and then noticed that Bob had steadied our aircraft and that the compass needle had settled once more on south, towards the Falkland’s Total Exclusion Zone (TEZ). To avoid detection by the Argentinean radar on the hill overlooking Port Stanley, the descent to the Fort Austin was initiated about 250 miles north of the Falkland Islands. The specially devised ‘Combat Entry Checklist’ was completed to set the aircraft up in its best fighting configuration and, as the Hercules levelled at 2,000 feet, the paratroop doors were opened and our two army despatchers from 47 Air Despatch Regiment checked in on the intercom from their observation positions.
‘Conditions were not ideal. It was a grey, foreboding day with a cloud base of about 2,500 feet and a visibility of about six kilometres which decreased markedly in the widespread, squally showers. It was bitterly cold and as Bob Rowley established contact with the Royal Navy, the sea temperature was reported as two degrees. Luckily, the wind speed was just within limits for the drop and as the parachutists were wearing immersion suits it all looked reasonable. As we homed towards the ship, our hastily-installed, primitive, hand-held Radar Warning Receiver chirped and squawked indicating that several radars were illuminating the aircraft although, thankfully, no fire-control radars had ‘lock-on’.
‘I spotted the Austin at about two miles out, riding on a grey sea and with its recovery boat already in the water. This part of the mission turned out to be straightforward and went almost exactly to plan. With minimum delay, the parachutists were despatched on the first run and the stores on the second and, as we turned back north into the gathering dusk, a faint voice on the radio confirmed that all the parachutists were safe and that the stores were on board Fort Austin.
‘By the top of the climb, darkness had descended and a new problem had arisen. Unforecast headwinds had developed, seemed likely to continue for some time and, as this had fuel implications, a solution was required. It was Jim Cunningham, who offered a possible way out using a technique borrowed from sailing ships tacking. Jim suggested that instead of applying drift to our heading we should allow the aircraft to be blown east by the wind and then turn hard into it until track was regained. I thought it sounded a bit strange but the alternative options of ditching in the Atlantic Ocean short of Ascension or diverting to the South American mainland were not terribly inviting, so I elected to give it a try. Amazingly, it worked and thereafter the procedure was repeated until the wind eventually abated about two hours later.
‘As we continued the 11-hour night flight back to Ascension, seats were swapped and meals eaten but more to combat encroaching fatigue than from hunger. Games were devised but we discovered that there is a limit to ‘I-Spy’. Meanwhile, the BBC World Service continued to provide hourly updates on the overall progress of our operation to restore the Falkland Islands to their rightful inhabitants.
‘About an hour from Ascension, it seemed that the most demanding and potentially hazardous portions of the flight had now passed and we allowed ourselves to relax. However, this air of calm was shattered when Jim Cunningham announced that he had a contact on the radar at our 10 o’clock position about five miles distant! Our intelligence briefs had mentioned the remote possibility of an Argentine Air Force Boeing 707 being equipped with air-to-air missiles and sent out on patrol. Indeed, we had heard a rumour that this aircraft had already ‘intercepted’ a reconnaissance flight by one of our own aircraft, although on that occasion nothing further had developed. I acquired a visual sighting almost immediately and confirmed it as a group of lights that appeared to be an aircraft in a left bank and turning towards us. I was well versed in fighter evasion techniques and immediately disengaged the autopilot, reduced the power and started a high bank angle, high ‘G’ turn towards the threat. Jim Norfolk had shot forward to my side and it was his timely intervention that avoided a possible catastrophe as he identified the lights as a string of refuelling Victors on climb out from Ascension. What had appeared to my eyes as an aircraft in a turn was in fact a mass formation of tankers setting out on another ‘Black Buck’ mission which had not been known about when we had been briefed some 27 hours earlier!
Fuerza Aérea Argentina C-130 Hercules of Grupo 1 De Transporte Aéreo Escuadrón 1 and a Comando Aviación Naval Argentina (CANA) Super Étendard of 2 Escuadrilla de Caza Y Ataque in close formation.
A C-130K refuelling from a VC10.
‘Following these hair-raising few minutes, the approach and landing were straightforward by comparison. However, fatigue ensured that everyone monitored everyone else very closely as XV200 finally touched down on Wideawake’s runway some 24 hours and five minutes after takeoff.
‘I was given the news by the Ascension Ops Officer that things hadn’t changed greatly in the time that we had been away - all the bars were shut and transport was unavailable. At 0300 the only way back to our accommodation at Two Boats was to wait until a vehicle was available or to try hitchhiking back up the hill. Oh well, I thought, never mind. I’m pretty sure that some of the other crews would still be around in the bungalow putting the world to rights over another ‘Irish coffee’ and the most wide-awake drunks in the South Atlantic would, no doubt, have ensured at least one beer was waiting in the fridge. Wouldn’t they?...’
For this extraordinary achievement, Harry Burgoyne was awarded the Air Force Cross.
Each of the other 24 C.Mk.1s, fitted with two internal auxiliary tanks, was converted to the same standard as XV200; the last being delivered on 25 October 1982. Meanwhile, Marshall Engineering was also required to fit CMA 771 Omega navigation equipment (similar to that installed in the USAF C-130H) to RAF Hercules for use on the long over-water flights in the Atlantic. This involved mounting the display and control panel in the navigation station and the small antenna in the upper rear fuselage on the port side behind the fin. XVI79, which had been delivered to Cambridge for the probe modification became the first RAF Hercules to be fitted with the navigation device. Also, installation of the HDU Mk.17B in the fuselage of six C.Mk.1K tankers proceeded apace. XV296 was fitted out first, the HDU installation being sited on the rear loading ramp with the auxiliary carriage and drogue deployment box on the cargo door so that the Hercules could remain pressurized while not refuelling. (Much later, Marshall Engineering retrofitted a system which enabled in-flight refuelling to take place while retaining pressurization.) Fuel supply to the HDU came from t
he C.Mk.1K’s main tanks (and not from the cabin auxiliary tanks) by tapping the standard fuel dump pumps, refuelling pressure being supplied by a bleed-air turbine-driven fuel pump. Two ram-air intakes and a pair of exhaust ducts were mounted in the sides of the pressure hull to provide cooling for the HDU components. Standard external tanker lights were fitted, together with their switches adjacent to the in-flight refuelling panel above the navigation station.
XV296 successfully deployed its drogue in two flights from Cambridge on 8 and 10 June. On the 11th the aircraft was despatched to the A&AEE to make its first dry coupling with a Harrier. However, the HDU projecting from the rear ramp caused some buffeting and the HDU oil cooler overheated. XV296 was therefore returned to Marshall Engineering, where strakes added to the loading ramp solved the buffeting defects and a third ram-air intake solved the air cooler problem. On 21 June XV296 carried out an entirely successful in-flight refuelling, transferring 5,900lb of fuel to a Buccaneer at 1,000lb/minute. XV296 returned to the A&AEE on 22 June and was equally successful in ‘wet’ coupling with Hercules, Nimrod, Sea Harrier and Phantom aircraft. The tanker was delivered to Lyneham on 5 July, but problems with the heat exchangers persisted and it was eventually decided to introduce alternative heat exchangers. With this final modification four C.Mk.1Ks (XV296, XV210, XV204 and XV192 Horatius) were delivered to Lyneham by 26 July. The first operational use of a C.Mk.1K was made early in August, seven weeks after the Argentinean surrender at Port Stanley, during a round trip from Ascension. (By the end of the year, two were based on Ascension Island and two at Stanley. The two remaining tanker conversions were completed in early 1983.)
C-130 Hercules Page 39
