Lightning Memories
Brian Clifford (2)
Lightning QRA Flight
The 2 RAF Squadrons based at Leuchars Numbers 11 and 23 shared responsibility for QRA – Quick Reaction Alert – usually for three to four weeks at a time. It was a shared, year-round commitment. Pilots were rostered every few days when their squadron was ‘on Q’. It involved two pilots with their aircraft being prepared to be airborne in less than ten minutes to meet the NATO requirement. We would be in full flying kit for the 24-hour duty in the small accommodation alongside the twin hangar where the fully armed aircraft were located. There were beds in the accommodation and one could sleep, albeit fitfully and uncomfortably. To be airborne in under 10 minutes meant that it was necessary to be in full flying gear including the bulky immersion suit.
I was on 11 Squadron On 6th April 1969 it was my turn. After a routine day catching up on paperwork and otherwise killing time (mostly very little happened on QRA) I was lying on the bed late in the evening when the squawkbox in the room that connected us directly to Buchan our radar station came to life with the announcement “Leuchars we have some activity for you. Stand by for further information”. The other pilot and I quickly zipped up our immersion suits, put on our life jackets and made ready for the ‘off’.
A short while later Buchan told us there were two high level aircraft being tracked by Norwegian radar flying round North Cape and heading for the North Atlantic. We were given a time to be on 5 minutes readiness which meant being strapped in and ready to start engines so that one of us could launch as soon as the aircraft were picked up on UK radar. At the appointed time, with both of us ready, Buchan came through via the direct link to the cockpit with an update on the unidentified aircrafts’ position, their heading, the RT channel to switch to when airborne and ordered the scramble. I was Q1 which meant I would fly but my colleague was ready in his aircraft as back up in case anything went wrong on start up. All went smoothly. I was airborne in Lightning Mk 6 XS 931 in about 3 minutes, checked in with Buchan, was vectored north westerly to make the intercept and climbed to cruising altitude of about 30,000 feet on a dark Scottish night. A brief look at my chart showed that the anticipated intercept would be a long way north west of the Hebrides.
After about 40 minutes flying time with the Hebrides approximately 140 miles behind me and the R/T communication with Buchan becoming weak, I was told that the aircraft I was hunting had gone off radar and the assumption was that they had descended to low level. The Lightning’s radar would pick up a Soviet Bear aircraft (the most likely intercept based on previous experience) at about 40 miles but with the targets at low level the ‘ground returns’ on the screen from the sea would mask those of the aircraft. As I was probably more than 40 miles from them anyway I pressed on for what I estimated would be the likely intercept point. A short while later I lost all R/T communication and a little while after that the Stornoway Tacan beacon that allowed me to calculate range and heading back to base. I was a long way from ‘home’ without navigation aids or the ability to communicate.
I continued the search using ‘dead reckoning’ but with a sinking feeling. If I descended to low level, about 1000 feet, I might locate one or perhaps both of the aircraft I was seeking and make the identification but the chances at night were slim indeed. In any event, I couldn’t be sure I was even close to their position. At low level they could have changed heading, split up or done an about turn. Moreover, I would use a lot of fuel climbing back up to altitude to return to base and if my fuel calculations were wrong by even a small amount the flight might have in inglorious end. As it was not unusual for ‘Bears’ to descend and then climb back up practising different flight profiles I circled and used my radar to see if they were still in the area but at altitude where I might see them.
I calculated that I was 350 and 400 miles from Leuchars. It was time to forget about the other aircraft and start worrying about my own, and my own safety. I turned for home. It was a pitch black night and I pondered for a while what would happen if something went wrong and I had to eject ending up in the north Atlantic without being able to tell anyone and my position being unknown. The chances of survival would be very remote. It’s not healthy to dwell on such things. I put it to the back of my mind and concentrated on calculating and recalculating my fuel and assumed position hoping that I had not fouled up. What if I had? I started to think of the alternatives. Could I divert and land at a nearer airfield? For about 5 to 10 minutes (I cannot be precise after so many years) I flew south east towards base, unsure of my exact position. But then the Tacan beacon locked on again and with some relief I noted my fuel calculations were OK and I would make it back to Leuchars. With the radar selected to its longest range of 60 miles and with the scanner pointed down the Hebrides showed up little while later and it was good to feel that there would soon be something solid below. R/T communication was also re-established and everything became more comfortable and routine.
One of the techniques for eking out the limited fuel and range of the Lightning was to make a cruise descent. A pretty accurate rule of thumb was the doubling your height in thousands of feet would translate into range. So by easing back on the throttles at 60 miles range from Leuchars and 30,000 feet I made a very shallow descent into the airfield and used very little fuel. A final turn with wheels lowered and a little more power and I landed after one hour fifty minutes airborne, all of it night flying.
After coffee my Boss who happened to be Q2 that night expressed some concern that I had been out of radio and radar contact for quite some time (he had been following my progress with Buchan the radar station) and asked what my fuel state was on landing. I was able to reassure him that I had landed with the required minimum of 800lbs a side. It was actually a fraction below that: probably nearer 700lbs a side. But although I learnt later that he had had the aircraft checked by the groundcrew to satisfy himself that I had not done something stupid he never mentioned the matter to me again.
It was a long flight for a Lightning. Of course on many QRA scrambles sorties were extended with the provision of a tanker allowing air-to-air refuelling. But for whatever reason on this occasion a tanker was not provided. It was an interesting sortie but ultimately a failure because the objective of intercepting the Soviet aircraft was not achieved.
The 2 RAF Squadrons based at Leuchars Numbers 11 and 23 shared responsibility for QRA – Quick Reaction Alert – usually for three to four weeks at a time. It was a shared, year-round commitment. Pilots were rostered every few days when their squadron was ‘on Q’. It involved two pilots with their aircraft being prepared to be airborne in less than ten minutes to meet the NATO requirement. We would be in full flying kit for the 24-hour duty in the small accommodation alongside the twin hangar where the fully armed aircraft were located. There were beds in the accommodation and one could sleep, albeit fitfully and uncomfortably. To be airborne in under 10 minutes meant that it was necessary to be in full flying gear including the bulky immersion suit.
I was on 11 Squadron On 6th April 1969 it was my turn. After a routine day catching up on paperwork and otherwise killing time (mostly very little happened on QRA) I was lying on the bed late in the evening when the squawkbox in the room that connected us directly to Buchan our radar station came to life with the announcement “Leuchars we have some activity for you. Stand by for further information”. The other pilot and I quickly zipped up our immersion suits, put on our life jackets and made ready for the ‘off’.
A short while later Buchan told us there were two high level aircraft being tracked by Norwegian radar flying round North Cape and heading for the North Atlantic. We were given a time to be on 5 minutes readiness which meant being strapped in and ready to start engines so that one of us could launch as soon as the aircraft were picked up on UK radar. At the appointed time, with both of us ready, Buchan came through via the direct link to the cockpit with an update on the unidentified aircrafts’ position, their heading, the RT channel to switch to when airborne and ordered the scramble. I was Q1 which meant I would fly but my colleague was ready in his aircraft as back up in case anything went wrong on start up. All went smoothly. I was airborne in Lightning Mk 6 XS 931 in about 3 minutes, checked in with Buchan, was vectored north westerly to make the intercept and climbed to cruising altitude of about 30,000 feet on a dark Scottish night. A brief look at my chart showed that the anticipated intercept would be a long way north west of the Hebrides.
After about 40 minutes flying time with the Hebrides approximately 140 miles behind me and the R/T communication with Buchan becoming weak, I was told that the aircraft I was hunting had gone off radar and the assumption was that they had descended to low level. The Lightning’s radar would pick up a Soviet Bear aircraft (the most likely intercept based on previous experience) at about 40 miles but with the targets at low level the ‘ground returns’ on the screen from the sea would mask those of the aircraft. As I was probably more than 40 miles from them anyway I pressed on for what I estimated would be the likely intercept point. A short while later I lost all R/T communication and a little while after that the Stornoway Tacan beacon that allowed me to calculate range and heading back to base. I was a long way from ‘home’ without navigation aids or the ability to communicate.
I continued the search using ‘dead reckoning’ but with a sinking feeling. If I descended to low level, about 1000 feet, I might locate one or perhaps both of the aircraft I was seeking and make the identification but the chances at night were slim indeed. In any event, I couldn’t be sure I was even close to their position. At low level they could have changed heading, split up or done an about turn. Moreover, I would use a lot of fuel climbing back up to altitude to return to base and if my fuel calculations were wrong by even a small amount the flight might have in inglorious end. As it was not unusual for ‘Bears’ to descend and then climb back up practising different flight profiles I circled and used my radar to see if they were still in the area but at altitude where I might see them.
I calculated that I was 350 and 400 miles from Leuchars. It was time to forget about the other aircraft and start worrying about my own, and my own safety. I turned for home. It was a pitch black night and I pondered for a while what would happen if something went wrong and I had to eject ending up in the north Atlantic without being able to tell anyone and my position being unknown. The chances of survival would be very remote. It’s not healthy to dwell on such things. I put it to the back of my mind and concentrated on calculating and recalculating my fuel and assumed position hoping that I had not fouled up. What if I had? I started to think of the alternatives. Could I divert and land at a nearer airfield? For about 5 to 10 minutes (I cannot be precise after so many years) I flew south east towards base, unsure of my exact position. But then the Tacan beacon locked on again and with some relief I noted my fuel calculations were OK and I would make it back to Leuchars. With the radar selected to its longest range of 60 miles and with the scanner pointed down the Hebrides showed up little while later and it was good to feel that there would soon be something solid below. R/T communication was also re-established and everything became more comfortable and routine.
One of the techniques for eking out the limited fuel and range of the Lightning was to make a cruise descent. A pretty accurate rule of thumb was the doubling your height in thousands of feet would translate into range. So by easing back on the throttles at 60 miles range from Leuchars and 30,000 feet I made a very shallow descent into the airfield and used very little fuel. A final turn with wheels lowered and a little more power and I landed after one hour fifty minutes airborne, all of it night flying.
After coffee my Boss who happened to be Q2 that night expressed some concern that I had been out of radio and radar contact for quite some time (he had been following my progress with Buchan the radar station) and asked what my fuel state was on landing. I was able to reassure him that I had landed with the required minimum of 800lbs a side. It was actually a fraction below that: probably nearer 700lbs a side. But although I learnt later that he had had the aircraft checked by the groundcrew to satisfy himself that I had not done something stupid he never mentioned the matter to me again.
It was a long flight for a Lightning. Of course on many QRA scrambles sorties were extended with the provision of a tanker allowing air-to-air refuelling. But for whatever reason on this occasion a tanker was not provided. It was an interesting sortie but ultimately a failure because the objective of intercepting the Soviet aircraft was not achieved.