When it came to the Go/No Go brief I was calm, a welcome change. No feet-dry, triple-A, MANPADS or radar threat to worry me. Just the sanctuary of the sea and a long-range shoot.
After all the pain of the surface-to-air missile assessments and the ‘how to do it better’ memos, and the actual MANPADS, triple-A and chaffing to escape the radars, John and I were happy to take on a mission with apparently simple targets outside an empty barracks miles away from the front line. The pre-mission brief was short, an easy discussion with well-honed crews, air and ground. CJ had the flight deck furnished with spare aircraft and the 56th Rescue tough guys were primed and ready. All set, back in an hour.
The timeline ticked, and Ocean sent us south once more. I checked in with Matrix:
‘Prodigy launched as fragged.’
‘Prodigy, clear to proceed, stand by for words,’ came the reply. Matrix had news. ‘We have a radar threat on your target, assessed as live. Appears to be active-search out to sea. This is your priority, stand by for coordinates.’
At 18,000ft above the Al Maya Barracks a Pred had spotted something on the coastline. Almost 900 miles away in the CAOC the team were working out what it was and what it meant. Matrix, at 36,000ft somewhere over the Med, was the go-between. My patrol of two Apaches raced in towards the new target at wave-top height with an estimated time of arrival of just under ten minutes.
Matrix passed the coordinates; I plotted them into my Tactical Situation Display on my left-hand MPD and data-burst the information to Mark and Charlie. The radar was directly in front of the barracks on the rocky coastline, right on our track.
‘New target, check data. I’ll confirm with Nomad, but when the time comes it will be my lead, me shooter, you looker, then re-set for the original strike.’ I altered the plan and we continued south.
Matrix pushed us to our own strike frequency and I made contact with Nomad, the Pred. As ever, all was calm in Nevada: ‘Prodigy, armoured targets south in the trees, radar truck on the coast. Lasing now for your sight.’
Nomad fired his laser, I switched my FLIR to the laser search mode and it began hunting for his laser code. Within half a second the FLIR was pointing at the coordinates Matrix had given me. Tucked into a sand berm 200m to the north of the barracks and elevated above the high tide mark, sat the target. A heavy truck with a search-radar mounted above had a clear view north out to sea. The truck was warm, its engine warmer, the radar was ready. The target was corroborated. Good to go.
The radar must have been switched off; nothing was showing on my Tactical Situation Display, and if anything was emitting out there the American lady in the wing would be telling us all about it in her disarmingly calm and precise voice. So in we went, John Blackwell holding the aircraft steady as I let the laser return a positive guidance for the Hellfire. The shot was easy, and the truck and radar disintegrated into shrapnel and fire, killing and ejecting the pro-Gad operator out of its side. His white-hot body was thrown sideways, coming to a rest 30m from the truck. As John banked the aircraft right to pull away from the explosion three arcs of tracer fire weaved around us and Mark Hall came on the net.
‘Tracer left! You’re under fire! I’m tipping in.’
Five pro-Gad scouts, AKs in hand, had watched us and engaged when we were closest to the beach. Mark and Charlie dealt with all five, posting a Hellfire neatly among them and following up with the gun.
With the distraction of the radar dealt with and, coincidentally, having dismantled the scouting screen, we were free to run in on the T-72s. I could clearly see the barracks and the wooded area, but I was unable to see through the trees. We ran in straight from the north, then tried it again running in from the west right along the beach, dangerously exposing ourselves, to try a different angle. Nothing worked; we couldn’t see a single defined target. There were heat spots, but the trees obscured their identity. The ‘olive grove’ in the reconnaissance images was in fact a forest.
I called to Mark, ‘No joy, can’t see the targets. Regroup feet-wet.’
We needed to get away from the barracks and make a new plan, having now flown in three times and given away the surprise.
Mark came back: ‘Try Nomad, see if he’ll buddy-lase it for us.’
The theory was that we could fire our Hellfire and the Pred could guide it into the target with his laser. We just needed to be careful that the missile-seeker was locked on, then Nomad owned the rest. Nomad was directly above the barracks, way up high, and he could see everything; we were low-level and were never going to get the right line of sight.
I got on the net to Nomad: ‘How about your laser, my missile? If you can, could you get permission for the strike too?’
We had never practised this, it hadn’t been briefed or authorized. I had no idea if it would work.
Nomad was quick to respond: ‘Prodigy, yes CAOC say it is a go; we have permission. You have my code, call for laser on and count down to missile release. I’ll do the rest.’
A man in Nevada, who was probably coming to the end of his shift, about to head home, pick up the kids and some groceries, was now about to guide a load of Hellfire into some tanks on the other side of the planet.
Mark and Charlie went in first and we followed. Four minutes later, four T-72 Main Battle Tanks were burning, out of action in the woods. We turned north and were back on the flight deck an hour and a half after we’d left.
The next couple of weeks saw us running in on several VCPs, disrupting the regime’s grip on the main roads west of Tripoli. We launched a four-ship mission to break up control of the roads in and out of Zuwara and Az-Zawiyah. Nine Hellfire and 200 rounds of 30mm cleared the VCPs. A week later the regime had rebuilt them. Smelling an ambush, we launched again, this time coming in from the desert. Jay and Big Shippers noticed heavy weapons all pointing out to sea – it certainly looked like a ‘come-on’ designed to lure us back – but together with JB and Reuben they put eleven Hellfire and 500 rounds of 30mm into the VCPs and weapon systems. Savvy planning had brought the patrol in from an unexpected direction and rapid high-tempo firing thrashed the ambush before it could be sprung. The regime didn’t go for a third rebuild.
On the same day I received a letter from the Guild of Air Pilots and Air Navigators informing me that 656 Squadron Group had been awarded the Master’s Commendation for their development of the Apache’s maritime capability. Recognition while at war! This was great news. Now renamed the Honourable Company of Air Pilots, the Guild are global sponsors of everything aviation and are held in the highest esteem by aviation professionals. To receive an award from them was indeed a top honour. I knew who’d written the citation and went to thank the CO.
We were back on the up. No one had launched a surface-to-air missile at us for two weeks and the FLIR image was conclusive – pro-Gad wanted to run away and live. Each time an Apache crossed the coast the scouting screen ran for cover. Finally, at the six-week point, the message was getting through – don’t fight us, because we’ll fight you back harder and we’ll win.
Chapter 10
The Week of the 27
In mid-July we went back to the Zlitan area. This time we weren’t going to mix it with BM21s, ZSU 23-4s or the troops on the front line. This time we were going to break the back of the brigade by convincing Khamis that there was nowhere safe to rest, store equipment or manoeuvre in depth. This time we would strike his support areas, where 32 Brigade was spread 20 miles in depth from Al Khums to Zlitan with large numbers of vehicles and troops using requisitioned buildings as well as government premises. Their task was to re-supply, reinforce and rotate with troops on the front line, a further 15 miles to the east. These troops were busy fighting the rebels and besieging Misrata. Pro-Gad had shelled, burned and razed the city, terrorizing her population with artillery and direct fighting since February. The FLF had edged the front line west towards Zlitan, but pro-Gad could still dominate the area. Our task was to disrupt pro-Gad and, in doing so, create opportunities for the rebels.