Trevellion heard the fighter controller vectoring his four Harriers towards the approaching armada.
‘UKADGE can’t reinforce, sir: the RAF’S committing its final reserve.’
Trevellion sat still. No one spoke.
‘I’ll bring her round, sir,’ Trevellion said, meeting Druce’s silent query.
‘I’ll lake the threat bows-on.’
Chapter 20
‘Air raid warning Red!’
Captain Trevellion heard the PWO’s abrasive voice cutting through the low chatter in the ops room Pascoe braced himself instinctively no exercise, this Whether they would be swimming shortly or not, whether the convoy was to survive, depended upon the effectiveness of the Navy’s training over the past three decades No one knew whether they had got it right this was a different type of warfare Craddock was on the line ‘The first flight’s Charlie-time is up, sir They’re in-flight refuelling ‘
‘Very good ‘ Trevellion was thankful that he need not worry about his helos at this moment They would be picking up their fuel lines on the hover, remaining airborne, so that Old Fury could maintain freedom of manoeuvre the aircraft could slip their fuel hoses instantly, while he concentrated on fighting his ship He was glad, too, that the carrier was back with her Force, while her consorts took up their up-threat dispositions to cover the convoy He had grown used to fighting his ship from the ops room, but he had learnt always to keep his eye on the officers of the watch When manoeuvring, however good they were at over-riding the command decisions, they still needed watching ‘MLA 215°,’
Trevellion ordered the bridge The new course would bring the Force within eighteen miles of Position Juliett ‘Start number seven zigzag’ A sneak submarine attack still could not be ruled out ‘CAP One in contact, sir,’ the fighter controller reported ‘Mam threat eighty-plus Backfires, 080°, three hundred miles, height five thousand metres Secondary threat, 085°, 360 miles from CAP
One ‘ He added ‘They’re low Relative closing speed — Mach one decimal eight’
Unless the encounter was head-on the Harriers had little chance of coping with these supersonic bombers ‘Tell ‘em to go for the Badgers and Bears/ Trevellion ordered The fighter controller was on to the Harriers, hauling them off, directing them on to the enemy aircraft which could vector the missiles of the Northern Fleet on to the convoy ‘Expected time of the Harriers’ encounter?’
Trevellion asked ‘In seven minutes, sir 1759 ‘
The quality which Trevellion valued most in Roderick Druce was his ability to leave his flag-captain alone and allow him to get on with the job, although it was good to feel Druce behind him, if help was needed Druce must be itching to know when Trevellion was. going to implement EW Gloucester requests simulation, sir ‘
‘Execute,’ Trevellion snapped So the EW team would be trying to deceive the enemy by emitting a false echo of the carrier’s position, to the north westward and away from the convoy ‘Flash Report from Gloucester to all ships, sir,’ the PWO said ‘Shall I start EW, sir?’
Trevellion glanced at the EW presentation on his display which was already being cluttered by enemy transmissions the Northern Fleet could be within SS-N — I2 range at any second He glanced across at Druce who nodded imperceptibly ‘Start EW,’ Trevellion rapped ‘Sea Cats ready,’ the gun director, blind reported Furious was in all respects ready for action and Trevellion felt the frustration slipping from him, as he concentrated on fighting his great ship ‘CAP One is engaging with Skyflash ‘
The subdued cheer did them all good The Sea Harriers were proving their worth and justifying the Navy’s faith in them after so many years of scepticism The fighter controller was listening intently to the Harriers He turned, his face beaming ‘Five hits, sir All missiles fired Returning to Mother ‘
And then Trevellion heard what he had been dreading ‘
‘The bogies are coming in, sir: fifteen in formation. CAP One requests permission to get in among ‘em with their cannon.’
‘Negative,’ Trevellion snapped. ‘Return to Mother.’ He raised his bushy eyebrows and glanced at Druce.
‘Scramble CAP Two,’ Trevellion ordered as Druce nodded in agreement. ‘Go for the Bears.’
The second combat air patrol of Harriers would be airborne within the minute, but every second counted now …
‘Panther Three — Keeper,’ the PWO rapped. ‘Go to first alternative AWC.’
So the EW game had started, each side trying to fool the other with the code words for its frequencies.
‘Liar Dice — roger,’ he continued. ‘Full House.’
Trevellion listened to the insane game they had played so often. They were shifting frequencies now, to fox the enemy with different air-cover frequencies.
Everything depended on this, up to the final second before the missiles homed on to their targets.
‘Bogies are jamming our radar, 093° from 082°,’ the operator reported.
Trevellion glanced at his EW presentation at the left-hand end of the battery of displays glowing orange in the dim room: the underwater picture; the air; then the plot and, next to it, the state boards, the enemy’s glowing red.
‘CAP Two airborne!’
Trevellion’s mind was racing. The Harriers should be among the mid-course guidance aircraft within minutes now, but even with their Skyflashes, the Harriers could knock down only eight … and the remaining seven Badgers could still guide the Northern Fleet’s missiles adequately.
‘I agree with you, Pascoe,’ Druce murmured behind him. ‘Tell ‘em to get in among ‘em after firing their Skyflashes. They’ve got to break up the formation.’
‘Order CAP Two to follow up with their cannon,’ Trevellion snapped. This is what they enjoyed, what he had revelled in when he had been a fighter pilot in fixed-wing aircraft: there was nothing as exhilarating as a dog-fight, but the Badgers and Bears were well armed against this form of attack.
Gloucester was on the air, her PWO’S voice verging on boredom: ‘Main raid is now at 074°sixty miles. Mach one decimal two. Losing height from four thousand metres … one thousand, five … strength one hundred and fifty.’
Seconds later: ‘Firing chaff … birds fired.’
This was the difficult decision, the vital moment. Enough time must be allowed for the chaff decoy to bloom — yet it must not be distributed too early or the decoy would drift downwind, too far astern.
He switched from Gloucester’s loop, listened to his own PWO. The AWO (Air) was doing well, the details of the air picture showing up clearly on the command display.
Then Craddock came up:
‘Emergency, sir. 833’s got a one-engine failure. She’s jettisoning her remaining fuel now. Can you turn into the wind, sir?’
‘You’re lucky,’ Trevellion said. ‘I need come up only thirty degrees. Turning now.’
‘Roger, sir. I’ll try to get her down before CAP One’s due in.’
‘Officer of the watch; bring her round to starboard to 245°. Yeoman: tell the screen to disregard me.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
If there was any danger of collision, the officer of the watch could ‘over-ride’: Koln seemed a bit close…
‘Course, sir, 245°.’
The helo that was in trouble must be Gamble’s. He ought to be able to get away with it: they’d already be clearing the flight deck for him. He’d be sweeping in, low over the round-down, brakes off, wheels down, flopping in for his running-landing the squadron had exercised the emergency often enough.
The ops officer cut in:
‘UKADGE still can’t help us, sir. The RAF’S committing maximum effort to the defence of the oil platforms and the east coast.’