JET LAG! (5 page)

              ‘Always nice to have top cover,’ Todd murmured to himself as a knock came at the door.

It was Wing Commander Millar.

              ‘You missed Met, Todd.’ He was nit-picking. A usual ploy to put a subordinate off his guard, ‘and Stumpy looks a bit grumpy. Have you got a minute? Come next door into my office, will you?’

Todd stood up and followed Andy Millar into his office. Millar wasn’t a bad chap overall. Apart from being an ex-Jaguar pilot - most of whom were arseholes, - he was a good, no, excellent pilot who ruled the squadron by the fabled iron hand in velvet glove method. It worked well. He left the Flight Commanders alone to do their jobs, and would only interfere if absolutely necessary. So this visit to his office did not bode well.

              ‘Have a seat, Todd, and tell me about you and Stumpy. I thought you were very happy flying together.’

Todd took a deep breath.

              ‘We were, sir, but this time Stumpy has overstepped the mark. I’ve been forced to take action.’

Todd proceeded to relate the sorry tale ending up with Stumpy’s punishment.

              ‘Hang on, Todd, if Stumpy misses the flypast who’s going to lead it. Have you thought this one through properly. There isn’t anyone available to take his place - and I’m not splitting crews just to repair your little lovers tiff. Before I sanction this I must be assured that you have a viable alternative. You heard the Station Commander yesterday. We cannot afford to make a pig’s ear of this flypast - well
you
certainly can’t! So, what’s the alternative?’

If the truth were known Todd hadn’t actually considered this point very carefully, since he imagined he would poach one of the senior pilots from the flypast team. However, the Boss had just ruled this out so he would now have to think on his feet - and quick.

Then it hit him.

              ‘Well, Sir, if you recall at last weeks’ Execs meeting we discussed Tom Nolan’s suitability for upgrade from two-ship lead to four-ship lead. I believe this is the ideal opportunity to blood him. After all I will do ninety-nine percent of the planning and briefing for the flypast as lead nav - he will just have to sit and fly the jet. We know he’s up to it, and a quick four-ship check ride next week could formalise matters. I don’t see a problem. We've got plenty of time to sharpen him up before June.’             

Wing Commander Andy Millar OBE AFC RAF sat quietly for thirty seconds whilst he composed himself. He was livid. Morrissey was only interested in one thing - himself - and it appeared that he would say or do anything to get his way. The Station Commander had strongly emphasised the importance of this flypast, and here was Morrissey endangering the whole show because of a petty clash of personalities. He didn’t like to overrule his officers - but on this occasion he had no choice. Morrissey could not be allowed to prejudice the squadron’s reputation for the sake of his own pride.

              ‘No, Todd. There is a problem. Nolan is not experienced enough for this task. Unless you can give me a suitable substitute - Stumpy carries on.’

Todd stood up. He wasn’t going to accept this from this jumped up Jaguar puke.

              ‘No, sir, he doesn’t. Firstly, if he does then I don’t. I go public on this appalling lack of support for your Exec and quite frankly it’s a resignation matter. I certainly could not serve on a squadron with a boss who does not wholeheartedly support his Execs one hundred percent - right or wrong. And secondly,
sir,
I am sure that Air Marshal Morrissey, the officer organising the celebrations in MOD will have something to say about the matter. Do I make myself, clear, sir?’

Todd’s reference to his father’s potential role in all this was not missed by Millar who found it hard to believe that Morrissey could behave in this manner. OC 619 Squadron knew the power behind Morrissey’s rise to stardom and he also knew that Todd had been
specifically
requested for this job. Whatever decision he made he would come out a loser. He was looking forward to his promotion and move to RAF Bruggen in the near future, and he certainly didn’t want to lose it because of a squabble with the ‘powers-that-be’ over the likes of Todd Morrissey. Navigators were bad enough at the best of times but this one was a complete shit. He could see no alternative but to back down. He despised himself for doing so, but he could not afford any trouble or scandal on the squadron with so little time before he departed. The words did not slip easily from his lips.

              ‘Sit down, Todd. I would ask you not to raise you voice to me ever again. This is my office and you should have the courtesy to respect it. Although, clearly, you have little respect for anything but your own inflated opinion of yourself. I do not agree with your point of view and I will not be dictated to by a jumped up little back-seater riding on the coat-tails of his father. However, you leave me no alternative. You’ve got your way. Now get out and have the courtesy to give me a wide berth until I leave the squadron at the end of March. Send Stokes in to see me.’

              Todd smirked. ‘Thank you sir, I’m sure you won’t regret your decision.’

              ‘Just get out of my sight, you arsehole, and shut the door behind you.’

Andy Millar sat with his head in his hands. Perhaps, he thought, God willing, Morrissey would make the flypast into an enormous shambles. It was the only solace he could take. It was going to be a tricky few weeks until he left the station - and Stumpy would have to lump it as well.

Indeed, Stumpy was extremely unhappy when the boss gave him the bad news. He sulked for much of the day and even toyed with the idea of handing in his PVR - Premature Voluntary Retirement - and getting a job with the civilian airlines. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as this bullshit? However, he did decide to have it out with Morrissey at the end of the day, even if it only meant getting all of his frustration and anger off his chest. He knew that Morrissey worked till about 5.50 pm on Fridays and got to Happy Hour just before six and of course everyone else would be ‘oiled’ with half price beer by then. So he determined to wait around the crewroom until everyone else had gone, and then confront Morrissey when there were no witnesses.

                                                                                    ***

5.30pm found Stumpy sitting in the crewroom having supped his third bottle of Heineken Export from the squadron fridge. A bit of Dutch courage wouldn’t hurt to bolster his confidence for the coming confrontation. He knew Morrissey was in his office and the Adj, as usual, was waiting to lock up the building. He got up, walked across the crewroom and out of the door. He unchained his bicycle and wheeled it towards Morrissey’s office window, which lay across the courtyard.

                                                                                    ***

Todd was in his office with his back to the window and Patsy the Adj was spread-eagled face down across his large desk. They were enjoying their regular Friday afternoon session before retiring to the bar with a warm glow, and a feeling of smug self-satisfaction for Todd.

The sudden rap at the window scared the living daylights out of Todd, and as he and Patsy turned their heads as one towards the sound, a hand pushed the glass frame and a face in the gap appeared. The voice was calm, but a definite note of victory could be traced.
              ‘I take it I’m back on the Flypast then, Todd?’

Stumpy Stokes, glanced at Patsy’s naked backside, turned around, got onto his bike and rode off to the Mess.

5

The next few weeks were extremely difficult for Todd Morrissey. The first priority was to prevent anybody else from finding out about his dalliance with Patsy - who still found the whole experience of Stumpy’s appearance at the window incredibly embarrassing. She coloured up violently every time she saw him round the squadron and, what is more, would have very little to do with Todd. He had persuaded her to remain calm and carry on as if nothing had happened. This she reluctantly agreed to do and only realised much later that she had missed a chance to get Todd all to herself. However, Todd had managed to limit any potential damage for the immediate future, but clearly Stumpy now had the upper hand.

Todd had been forced to go to the boss, cap in hand, and apologise profusely for his previous behaviour. Andy Millar was astounded at this development, but accepted the apology with good grace, and even admitted secretly that perhaps Todd was worth saving after all. Stumpy, of course, kept his mouth shut and waited patiently for events to develop as he imagined they would. He was back leading the Flypast team and it was satisfaction enough - for the time being - that Morrissey had to eat humble pie in front of the rest of the squadron. So, even though the atmosphere was tense, it never really developed into the full scale public war that had been threatened. All parties had far too much to lose.

The next couple of weeks saw Todd and Stumpy get down to the real work of planning the Flypast. The first job was to outline the aircraft and crews in their formation. This would consist of four Tornado bombers IDS, (Interdictor Strike), four Tornado fighters ADV (Air Defence Variants), two Tornado Reconnaissance, two Canberra PR9 reconnaissance, one VC10 Tanker (Re-fuelling), one Hercules transport (C-130) and one ECM Canberra (Electronic Counter Measures). This gave a nice cross-section of RAF aircraft and would make a pleasing display for Her Majesty - or so the big wheels in MOD thought. However, from Todd’s point of view it was a large and cumbersome formation of fifteen aircraft with seven different squadrons and fourteen other crews to deal with, plus another seven aircraft acting as spares if one went unserviceable. The aircraft were all on different stations, thus command, control and co-ordination could be a nightmare - so preparation was the key. Therefore, meticulous planning was the immediate priority.

The principle job was to closely read the Operation Order and extract the relevant paragraphs pertaining to their formation. They were leading the whole show which involved the co-ordination of sixty aircraft, which were to pass over the airfield, at one thousand feet above the runway, within two minutes - one hundred and twenty seconds. Fortunately all of the four larger formations would be in trail - one behind the other - so only one track leading in to the runway needed to be planned and rehearsed. Todd’s fifteen-ship, or a Balbo as large formations were affectionately called, would be abeam the royal podium at 1100GMT on the second of April 1992 and was designated the callsign ‘Anson’ formation. The next three ‘Balboes’ would follow at thirty second intervals and were designated, ‘Blenheim’, ‘Canberra’ and ‘Dakota’- all famous aircraft types from the Second World War (excepting the old warhorse – Canberra) and conveniently alphabetical. Each sub-formation would have its own leader and only they would respond to check-ins from the overall leader, Todd, whose master callsign was Purple.

Todd and Stumpy pored over maps for several hours familiarising themselves with the ground features around the station at RAF Marham, where the flypast was to be. They knew where the podium was to be positioned and marked it carefully with a triangle - designating the Target - on a 1:50000 scale map, better known to the countryside rambler as an Ordinance Survey  map. In fact they needed to glue three maps together to give them a long enough lead-in to the target. Clearly, they would not be permitted to overfly the royal party, so they had been instructed to run straight down the runway which conveniently ran at ninety degrees to the rostrum. First problem solved!

So all they had to do now was to back-plot the run-in to a position about ten miles out from the airfield to a position known as an IP or Initial Point. This would be a point on the ground which was unique and very easy to identify. This formation would be flying at two hundred and forty knots to accommodate the C-130’s and other non-jet aircraft following on. It was slightly uncomfortable for the jets but just bearable. Therefore at four miles per minute (two hundred and forty knots) it would be useful if they could find a point exactly twenty miles from the field on the projected centreline. That would mean a five minute run-in. Just about the right time to settle in and relax. They would also need a couple of good, solid fix-points to update the navigational equipment, and a good lead in feature on the edge of the airfield. This would give Stumpy something to aim at. Also a prominent feature beyond the target would enable Stumpy and the other formation leaders to track a straight line across the airfield and past Her Majesty in good shape. Consequently, it took the pair several hours to satisfy all of these criteria, and once they had sketched in the initial plan they commandeered an aircraft and went off to see if it all worked in the air.