The missile went straight to the target, taking just five seconds, and shredded both the vehicle and the missile system it was carrying. The palm trees rippled with the shockwave and then sagged, dormant and bent by the blast. Nothing moved, no one fired up at the aircraft and all was dark. SA-24 number two had been defeated, the defensive aids suite had carried us safe through once more. The flares were working – but if you play the game enough times, eventually one will get through.
The Apache maritime strike team from 656 Squadron had gone from media fanfare through three weeks of hard fighting. We had got away with our lives. Our wit and imagination, along with the defensive aids suite, had kept us alive, but the operation promised more of the same. During those first few weeks we encountered new aircraft emergencies, including a simultaneous double GPS failure of both aircraft in flight over the sea at night. A fifth aircraft arrived aboard the Royal Fleet Auxiliary vessel Fort Rosalie, and Ocean clocked up her thousandth deck landing since leaving the wall in Devonport on 25 April. The Apache contribution to Operation Ellamy was full speed ahead and the summer we all thought we would spend at home was taking a very different shape in the Med.
The French wanted the whole Libya operation complete by mid-July, which would give their government something to cheer about on 14 July during La Fête Nationale. But victory, or any approximation of it, looked a long way off when viewed from an Apache cockpit. Despite working a more aggressive, and far less constrained, helicopter operation alongside the NATO action, the French had not changed the stalemate in Brega, where they had concentrated. Helicopters had not proved a quick fix, and the impact of our combined work from Brega to Al Khums was yet to be translated into a rebel advance. We needed to persevere, to keep up the momentum and strike pro-Gad across his front line and in his depth. More importantly, we had to remain undamaged ourselves. The quandary NATO now faced was how to keep up the pressure of helicopter strikes but keep this risky platform from being shot down itself. With the regime positively searching for ways to bring us down, the risk-versus-reward calculation was precarious.
On 19 June Gaddafi announced a bounty for any NATO aircraft shot down. For 32 Brigade an Apache was their most likely prize. We were well and truly in the frame for a massed ambush somewhere near Zlitan. On 21 June a new US Navy remotely piloted helicopter drone, known as Fire Scout, crashed near Zlitan. Libyan State TV showed images of wrecked helicopter parts and jubilant pro-Gad demonstrators claiming to have shot down an Apache. The hourglass had turned; we needed luck as well as judgement to bring us safely though the campaign.
Chapter 8
The Raid on Brega
With the bounty promised to anyone who shot down a helicopter, surface-to-air missiles and anything else that could hit us were now massing on the coast and the risk-versus-reward calculation was changing. We didn’t notice. The two SA-24 shoots had scared us, but our defensive equipment and our tactics had worked. This made us braver. They had thrown their best at us and we had killed them in reply. In fact, we had, unwittingly, normalized the threat. Right from the first mission, getting brassed up by big weapons was just what happened. The Apache was designed to deal with this, and we were happy to be there, but unfortunately we were being hampered by the risk aversion of our operational heritage. When the missiles started coming at us it was a matter of duty and common sense to stand and fight and kill. Taking on the most lethal of Gaddafi’s weapons was expected with each mission. The bounty, the change in their MO and the warnings made no difference. The rapid immersion in violence had changed us. I had lost my understanding of what normal was. Launching every mission with a high chance of dying had replaced normal.
After the high octane SA-24 rampage of Zlitan the worry-beads in Italy wanted to move us away from that area. It was all quite sensible. An increased threat from a weapon system that would surely bring us down, a bounty on our demise and an enemy determined to see us die were all big concerns. We had to come up with new ways of keeping Gaddafi guessing. Nick Stevens and I scoped all sorts of options, including feet-wet day raids and long periods on alert on deck ready to react to any opportunity target. None were taken. We just needed to take the heat out of the threat, and that meant moving away. Twenty days after the first mission we returned to Brega.
An elite battalion from 32 Brigade had moved from Zlitan to reinforce the town, which was now completely militarized. ‘Elite’ in pro-Gad terms meant SA-24, triple-A, superior training and absolute loyalty to the regime. A new location, yes, but the same pro-Gad would be firing at us. The risk was unchanged, but we didn’t care. We knew we were good for the fight. Zlitan, Brega or Tripoli, we were good to go wherever the targets were. In terms of combat psychology we were still excited and willing to take risks. It was exhilarating, and continually getting away with our lives had reinforced our collective courage. Rushing in low-level against more of the same was welcomed. We relished it.
I flew to the French amphibious vessel, Tonnerre, to discuss their experiences of Brega and share ours of Zlitan. They had been operating close to the front line and flying several patrols night after night to the same target area with tremendous success. They were a big outfit, too, with a large planning staff dedicated to aviation as well as a squadron twice the size of ours. We had an open, brotherly discussion about the threat, the firing points, the pro-Gad MO and what to do about it. They had certainly shaken Brega and given the regime serious concerns. They had battered the enemy relentlessly for three weeks. Now we were going to join them in a combined raid to strike pro-Gad positions throughout Brega.
When the outline mission pack came in I called Chris James at the CAOC who explained the plan:
It’s probably a four-aircraft job. The jets will drop a C2 node in a warehouse and a communications mast just west of the town at H hour. That’s the important event – everything hinges on it. You need to be getting into position before that. The French will be going in at the same time right up by the front line. That’s east by a few kilometres so you’ll be over Libya at the same time but we have agreed a deconfliction line to stop you bumping into each other. As soon as the jet strike goes in you are clear to proceed. If you need to change the timings you’ll have to do it early because these guys have some seriously complicated refuelling schedules to coordinate and we need to tell the French. There are two areas for you to strike. The first is close to an industrial complex south of the town, an area where they are routinely hiding technicals; and the airport might have some action going on too. The other area is the port itself. It is teeming with pro-Gad and technicals.
‘Sounds like at least a four-aircraft job,’ I replied, hopefully.
‘Yes. The French have been hitting them hard since the start of the month, since that first night of the op. That’s probably why they’ve moved in this battalion from 32 Brigade. You know what this means. It’s likely to be strong out there… they’ll have a real go at you.’
We knew it. Pro-Gad would be pleased with his Fire Scout shoot-down. They would believe the regime propaganda that it was an Apache. And they would be bold about taking us on. Lots of them, with triple-A and SA-24. A proper shoot-down would be a big boost for the regime. Conversely, a massive kicking from four Apaches would do away with their confidence and wreck morale.