J. Beedle

January 1963 was a time of ‘all change’. After less than two years residence in Cyprus the Squadron was ordered to prepare to move to Aden, there to form with two other long established Squadrons, 8 and 208, the latter originally the famous 8 Squadron of the Royal Naval Air Service that had flown Camels with 43 in 1918 at La Gorgue, a tactical support and Ground Attack Wing. The farewell parade to march off the Squadron colour on 22 February had to be held in a hangar because of heavy rain. The Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Air Chief Marshal Sir Dennis Barnett was present. A flypast during the parade by Flt Lt Bob Smith, one of several pilots scheduled to go to UK instead of Aden, was low enough to give those inside the hangar the impression that the roof was meant to fly past as well. ‘However’, it was recorded, after long months of practice he just missed it. The same pilot, the previous month had received the thanks of the AOC-in-C for ‘a very polished display of low flying’ for some high ranking visitors.

The parade on the 22nd was followed by a farewell party. After Flt Lt King had left as advance guard in the long lasting Mark 7, there was another party on the 23^rd, continued on the 24th. When 29 Squadron arrived on the 28th, as a replacement for 43, the Squadron had still not left. It was 2 March before it did. It arrived at Aden to be met by Air Vice-Marshal Rosier, their new C-in-C and the TV cameras of the BBC— ‘seen by thirty-six million viewers on Eurovision—a genuine hero’s welcome’ the Squadron diary proclaimed.

Nor was it all quite idle boast and foolish word. A letter which followed to Aden, from Wing-Commander Flying at Nicosia, Philip Thomas, showed that it was not themselves alone who had a good opinion of 43.

‘Any station that has 43 resident should consider itself for­tunate for a more dedicated and professionally able assembly would be difficult to find. It was a delight to know and work with you all and any wistfulness I may experience at saying good-bye to you now is modified by the thought that I shall have the privilege to see you from time to time at Squadron reunions.’

Within weeks of its arrival, 43 had improved the Wing averages for air-ground firing and on the Queen’s Birthday fly­past provided five out of the nine aircraft after 8 Squadron, detailed for the job, had failed to supply enough. In May it led the fly-past to bid farewell to Air Vice-Marshal Rosier. After a dinner in June to celebrate their second year away from Leuchars, and a spate of nose-wheel trouble, it spent July and most of August at Bahrein, with detachments to Sharjah for weapons work. After that spell in those most blistering and unlovely places a two week detachment to Nairobi was doubly welcomed. The main purpose of the visit was a display by eight aircraft at the Kenya Royal Show. This, the last show before that country was given its independence, will no doubt be the last for all time. Following massed bands, grand parades of horses and cattle, the Molo hounds and more massed bands, the Squadron arrived, on cue at 16:45. For the benefit of those who can understand the jargon the routine will be described in detail.

Sqn Ldr Peacock, Flt Lts Doggett, Law and Edwards made up a box of four. The synchro-pair, Flt Lts Golds and Stoker, initially formated with this box. Flt Lts Osborne and Chapman flew low and slow. The box plus two arrived, the synchro-pair turning and split­ting off leaving the box doing dumb-bells. Halfway through this, two aircraft flew across low and slow with undercarriage down. The box then split in two and shortly afterwards returned at high speed from opposite directions. As the box reformed the two synchro-pair performed co-ordinated aerobatics, on completion of which the six threaded the needle and the show was over. The Presi­dent and the Royal Show Committee gave thanks for ‘a magnifi­cent display, greatly enjoyed’. The RAF Station at Eastleigh, awarded a Silver Medal for its services, freely acknowledged that 43’s contribution had been partly responsible.

Only one disturbing note appeared. A letter in the Kenya Times, signed by ‘ex-Kerosene Cowboys’ described the formation flying as ‘not only noisy and disturbing but extremely tatty’ . . . ‘same way same day’. There are some who believe that this letter had its origin with a certain coat-trailing, mickey-taking Fighting Cock. Be it so or not the response evoked by this letter was re­markable and 43’s admirers leaped to its defence. ‘A fabulous performance of precision flying’, said one defender. Another, a ‘former WAAF married to a pongo’ quoted him as saying that ‘the free-falling parachutists were terribly impressive, but I really must take off my hat to your service darling, they excelled them­selves; by far the best thing in the show.’

On returning from Nairobi the Squadron bade farewell to Sqn Ldr Peacock and welcomed his successor Sqn Ldr Phil Champniss whose first reported statement was alleged to be ‘you play ball with me and I’ll hit you over the head with the bat.’

It was cannon and rocket, however, not a bat, that the Squadron used to wallop the Wing averages again in October, followed during the next month with a prolonged number of practice low-level strikes. ‘Four aircraft racing through grey-gold wadis, across the undulating oceans of ochre sand, with occasional glimpses of a muddled village on a ragged outcrop, or a fort or mosque sticking up white and wart-like....’

It was intensive practice soon to be put to the test, for the storm of civil war in neighbouring Yemen was already splashing in spasmodic warning droplets across the border. A lost Russian transport of the Republican Yemeni Air Force landed only eight miles north-east of Aden and deliberate penetrations by aircraft from north of the border became more frequent. These did not go unheeded and an increasing amount of time was spent at readi­ness though with nothing to show for it.

Several pilots left for UK at the turn of the year. Among the group whose departure was made the more reluctant by the impending promise of action were two four-year Squadron men Flt Lts Golds and Malin. Those remaining went off to Bahrein for another detachment, got washed out by an ultra-high tide driven up by the Shamal wind at Sharjah, and finished by impressing the visiting detachment from the Day Fighter Combat School with their ‘matchless skill’. So back to Aden at the end of February, there to find that the unsettled situation on the northern borders of the Federation was now rapidly racing to explosion point.

Radfan and Harib are the kind of place names that mean absolutely nothing until, bursting from anonymity they thrust themselves upon the world in banner headlines and on television screens. There for a brief space they take pride of place until, overtaken by other names and other events, they sink back into the near-oblivion from which they sprang, unremembered by any save the few thousand who were for a space intimately associ­ated with them. For 43 Squadron Harib and Radfan were two such places. Harib gave its name to a hill fort across the Yemen border, just one of several in those parts, of no special significance, or tactical importance. The order to attack it was made entirely for political reasons after a year in which Yemeni Republican aircraft had on several occasions flown across the border to strafe property and people of the South Arabian Federation. Their place of incursion was seventeen Hunter minutes from Khormaksar and the raiders were able to return across the border unchecked. There was no other course open but a retaliatory raid to demonstrate to the local inhabitants that the British had not only the ability but the desire to protect them. Therefore after a final warning to lay off had been followed by an enemy attack with helicopters firing machine-guns, eight Hunters, four from 43, followed by four from No. 8, rocketed the Harib fort. ‘It was a piece of pee,’ was the reaction from Pat Hill, the youngest pilot in the attacking force. ‘We went in low and plastered it—got 92 per cent direct hits with 3” rockets.’ He said a lot more but the combination of a Squadron reunion and Pat’s brogue made it difficult to remember.

Before the attack, a leaflet raid gave warning to the locals to scatter and subsequently air reconnaissance showed no sign of casualties, but it inevitably produced a great deal of fury in cer­tain quarters. The Afro-Asian bloc at the UN viewing all things through coloured lenses, bellowed in anger. From far on the left Tribune likened the Royal Air Force to ‘hooligans breaking up cafes’, a simile simply refuted by Peter Simple of the Daily Telegraph who queried whether ‘hooligans normally sit with patience while cafe proprietors break up their homes, before retaliating’. The Labour Party ‘regretted the action of the Conservative Government as not being the action of a great power’ (a few months later with the easy humbug of the professional politician, they gave their complete support to a similar but much greater retaliatory action in Vietnam by the American 7th Fleet). Lapdogging faithfully along the party line the Daily Mirror found enough space among its usual pattern of slush, sex and cheese­cake to squeeze in some sneers about ‘semi-illiterate staffs’ in Whitehall and the ‘anointed boys’ piloting the Hunters at their command. Not surprised at such vituperation, but perhaps a little dis­mayed that the case for making the raid, in honour of treaty obligations and to demonstrate to the Yemen that their attacks would no longer be tolerated, was not as forcibly stated as it might have been, the ‘anointed boys’ kept on with the job. The base at Aden, being in both British and American opinion of vital importance for at least the next ten years, there was little else to be done, except perhaps to recall Kipling’s words and wonder how long it would be before ‘blast your soul Tommy’ would change again to ‘Forward Mr. Atkins’.

In any case the Harib fort raid was but the prelude to several weeks intensive operations which gave no time for introspection. The opening scene set in the Radfan area, found men of the Special Air Service moving in to clear the Aden-Dhala road which had .been made near impassable by the hostility of the local tribesmen. Before long the soldiers, finding themselves opposed by three times the expected numbers of opponents and they, moreover, not merely gun-toting tribesmen, but a disciplined force armed with mortars and machine-guns and trained in com­pany tactics, were in some trouble, lost two men killed and several wounded and so called on the Air Force for support.

The call was answered by the Hunters of 43 and 208 Squadrons. With 3” rockets and 30 mm. cannon fire, the immedi­ate situation was relieved, so well that the SAS from less pre­carious positions reported that ‘without their help we should have lost more men’. There was no let-up after this initial action and during non-stop attacks that lasted throughout May and into June the Squadron flew more than 150 sorties, fired 1,000 rockets and 50,000 rounds of 30 mm. ammunition. Buildings which were, or were capable of, being used as enemy firing positions were attacked and ‘airborne proscription’ and ‘close support of friendly troops’ were also much in evidence in the order books. The latter was very close support indeed according to Mr. Hugh Fraser, Minister of State for the RAF. After a visit to the area he was reported as saying ‘that the skill and accuracy of the aircrew is such that the troops in forward areas are calling down RAF fighters to strike dissident strongholds only twenty-five yards from their own positions. Considering the nature of the terrain a twenty-five yard margin is incredible.’

Some veterans of other battles wondered just how credible a twenty-five yard margin could be in any sort of terrain and visualising the steep valleys and mountain peaks about which the Hunters flew had the temerity to doubt it even more. Not that it mattered much; twenty-five or twenty-five hundred yards, the result was the same. By the end of May the road to Dhala was open, the Paramount Sheikhs of the large Ibdali tribe had denounced the struggle and come over to the British side, and the battle was won. It had been won by the individual courage and combined skills of the men whose victory it was. The soldier on the bare mountainside, the pilot above, weaving his way along the deep valleys to locate the near-invisible target below, and the ground crew who back at base had sweated the clock around to provide all and more of the Hunters required for the fray. And if you checked on the facts and figures you would find that during it all No. 43 Squadron had done all and more than all it had been called upon to do.

The opening of the Dhala road did not bring a halt to the fighting which was to continue for a long time. In June 1964 the Squadron was reduced to a skeleton of 18 pilots and one Orderly Room Corporal when ‘in the interests of increased efficiency’ a Technical Wing Pool was formed and the groundcrews’ identity as proud members of 43 was dissolved in an amorphous soulless creation. The change was bitterly fought but it was decreed that it should go ahead for a six-month period. Within weeks it was noted that ‘Out of a possible 23 Hunters we were lucky if a total of 6 was available. We got more than that when 43 had 11’. ... ‘the lack of Squadron spirit became plain for all to see and pilots got increasingly frustrated at the many times they came out to fly only to find that no aeroplanes were available’. However, a monthly thrash with the airmen ensured a continuing loyalty to 43 and a sense of belonging between the pilots and their forcibly separated groundcrews.

September 1964 found ‘the enemy still tireless’ so that the Hunters were often called in to support the ground forces or to provide standing patrols in the hope, never realised, of sighting the odd Egyptian-piloted Yemeni MiG strafing on ‘our’ side of the border.

On 10 August, Fg Off Ron Burrows, only weeks on the Squadron, had a flame out on take-off and made what was called a copybook ejection. Less happy was the tragic death of Fg Off Ian Stephen in October when his aircraft crashed as he left Masirah to return to Khormaksar after a detachment. ‘His loss was keenly felt, he had been very popular and had the makings of a good pilot’.

Surviving the annual visit from the ‘Trappers’ of CFS, who found small cause to complain, the 10th Anniversary of the Hunter on operations was celebrated at the Khormaksar Jungle Bar on 20 November and one guest summed up the success that it naturally was with a letter, ‘I feel so ill this morning it must have been a wonderful party,—Thank you’.

Two new Flight Commanders, Flt Lts Pete Biddiscombe (A) and Geoff Taylor (B), along with five other new tourists arrived in February 1965. The two outgoing Flight Commanders, Flt Lts Glyn Chapman and Bill Stoker, both received a Queens Commendation in the Birthday Honours list for their service with the Squadron during the Radfan operations. The most important change in personnel this year was at the end of September when Sqn Ldr Harry Davidson took over command of 43 from Phil Champniss. Phil went home to Andover and Flight Safety duties having made his indelible mark on 43 and leaving it in the highest of spirits—in more ways than one.

In March the Royalist troops had recaptured Harib, (shades of Fort busting days), and with border infringements by UAR aircraft in support of the Republican troops expected, patrolling was stepped up. Generally, however, things had gone pretty quiet up country although in downtown Aden there were daily incidents of grenades and other noisy things which more often or not did harm only to innocent Arabs.

A crisis was declared in December when the stock of Black and White chequered material used for scarves and cummer­bunds ran out. As the last order had been placed in Cairo and 43 were currently very much out of favour with the UAR, a search for alternative supplies was begun and sartorial correct­ness was restored by a supplier in far off Birmingham, England.

The Labour Government elected in October 1964 produced in February 1966, a White Paper on Defence which announced among other things the complete withdrawal of all British Forces from Aden as soon as was practicable. Since there were no places in the world where any additional Hunter squadrons were likely to be usefully deployed this White Paper fore­shadowed an end to 43 in its present shape in the not too far off future. In fact the first plan set a date in July 1967 for 43 to disband, leaving No. 8 Squadron to carry on to the end but early in 1967 the AOC decided that No. 8 alone would not suffice so 43 was reprieved until November. Since, by the time this change was made most pilots had got their posting notices on the assumption that they would all go by July, nobody knew who would go and who would stay resulting, as the Squadron scribe said, ‘in total chaos’.

However, before November 1967 there was still to be eighteen months of life for 43, during which time it continued in its normal lively and superior way in cockpit and in bar, although with the grenade-loaded situation in Aden, hangovers were now acquired in situ and got over in the same place rather than in a homeward bound Jeep. In April, Harry Davidson brought six pilots home to London for the 50th Anniversary Dinner where they discovered that, apart from having more hair and fewer ailments, they were not in any way different in spirit and outlook from their forerunners who in their day had gone ground strafing with Vickers guns or 20mm cannons. Harry Davidson said that as the 38th person to follow Lord Douglas of Kirtleside in command of 43 he hoped he might still become one day the Chairman of British European Airways and after every­body had agreed that the Tournedos Chasseur was the best thing they had ever had, the company, old and young, went home their various ways feeling that since 43 Squadron was still as good as ever, the world must not be so bad a place after all.

So back to the Arabian sands and mountains where an eight-ship strike was called for at Wadi Sana while Flt Lt Wally Willman took Dave Loveday, Bob Screen and Nick Kerr (RN) as companions to experience the delights of the Gulf in an exchange with 208 Squadron at Bahrein. By now Flt Lt Dave Malin had escaped from his In­structor post at Chivenor and come back to 43 for a third tour as Commander of ‘A’ Flight. When he finally left, with a DFC one should add, he had been nearly seven years in total with 43, almost a record.

A ‘whistling wheelbarrow’, more generally known in official circles as an Argosy C.1, took the ground support and surplus aircrews to Masirah in July and two months later, after they had come back again, the whole might of the Fighting Cocks was seen when 144 hollow-charge HE rocket projectiles were ex­pended in a 3 x 4-ship strike in Wadis Bana and Yahar, an operation to show ‘How impressive we are and how good is our expertise at demolishing Wadis!’. Next month, October, Flt Lt Al Pollock departed to England in order to ‘ginger up a very inferior unit at West Raynham’, No. 1 Squadron. Eighteen months later he went into the history books, and brought his service career to a premature end, when he flew a Hunter through Tower Bridge, a brave gesture to show that the RAF in its Diamond Jubilee year at least deserved a flypast over the capital, but like so many brave gestures it was lost in the philistine minds of politicians.

The year concluded with the two Flight Commanders, Geoff Taylor and Dave Malin dropping leaflets (43 Xmas Card greet­ings) at Beihan, Mukeiras, Habilayn and Dhala and a flypast at the State capital of Qaiti on the accession of the new ruler, Amir Ghaleb bin Awadh al Qaiti, whereby anyone evilly disposed towards him would know that he had the best Wadi-busting squadron on his side.

The year 1967 started with the AOC’s Inspection prior to which enough paint was slapped onto walls to markedly reduce the cubic capacity of most rooms. In February Fg Off Dave (Cid) Sowler had the kind of experience he would have preferred to do without. One of four sent to the aid of a local friendly sheikh at Dhi Surrah who was being troubled by somebody on top of a nearby hill he had blasted away at all the right places when— Calamity! Hydraulic failure, turret drive gone, no radio and ASI reading zero he headed for home. He got close, but eight miles out on finals, cockpit filling with smoke and the rear end burning like the proverbial torch our hero mutters, ‘Til serve no more’ and went for the handle. Everything worked and Cid, quickly picked up by helicopter, came back to ask to where he should write to collect his Martin-Baker Club tie. Less dodgy and quite funny was Flt Lt Jack Jennings landing a T.7 without the port undercarriage. The Trucial Oman Scouts Captain flying with him wandered off to (ruefully) dhobi his underpants mut­tering ‘That’s my first and last time I fly in a Hunter’ and ‘Does everybody always laugh when things like this happen?’. Not long after this Jack Jennings, again, and Fg Off Rod Harrison were scrambled to investigate an unidentified trace in the area. It proved to be a VIP Andover returning from Perim Island. Going in for a better visual, identification Rod Harrison was subsequently blasted for ‘buzzing the Commander-in-Chief. ‘Sometimes’, he said sadly, ‘You just can’t win’.

All Fools Day was aptly named. 2.6 inches of water, equal to Aden’s normal annual rainfall, fell in six hours. Having spent most of March giving lots of help to No. 45 Marine Commando, 43 went off to drier climes at Bahrein but came back to put in 109 Operational sorties before the end of May, mostly on border patrols and as top cover for convoys up the Dhala Road where escorting Wessex helicopters were being fired on.

In May also, the aircraft carriers, HMS Hermes on the way to the Far East and HMS Victorious on the way home arrived at Aden. This gave 27 Hunters of 8, 43 and 208 Squadrons the opportunity to join with 16 Sea Vixens and 12 Buccaneers from the carriers in a 55-ship formation. Led by Gp Capt Browne, the Khormaksar Station Commander, it was the biggest formation ever seen in Arabian skies. After this came Air Defence exercises with the Hunters doing the attacking and the Navy claiming to shoot them all down.

By now the Squadron was on the last lap. Sqn Ldr Davidson left in July, as planned with the original disbandment date and Sqn Ldr Terry Thornton took over for the last few months. The Disbandment Parade and Farewell Dinner both took place on 14 October and from then until 29 November things happened so fast it was nearly impossible to keep track of them. Three pilots came from No. 8 and stayed a while, three more from 38 Group came and hardly stayed at all. Some pilots and aircraft went back to the UK. Others went to Muharraq where they left the Hunters and went to the UK. Two pilots and aircraft went to Masirah with orders to stay there until somebody told them otherwise. Wally Willman leading four Hunters had everybody going berserk when he took a short cut across Turkey without asking and then upset the Wing Com­mander Ops at Nicosia by parking on a spot reserved for VC10 transports.

On 15 November the Adjutant, Flt Lt Tony Hughes-Lewis had this to say. ‘We are now down to six aircraft and seven pilots. We still have to maintain our dawn to dusk standby commitment of two aircraft which with only six of us doing it makes it a bit tedious. Of course with so few aircraft we cannot afford to fly except operationally, and so for the last week there has been no flying at all. This will continue to the end though now that the Navy is here with dozens of aircraft, we feel slightly superfluous. Doubtless we shall sit here and twiddle our thumbs until the 29th. All the same, despite the fact that we all thought we’d be gone by the 22^nd, morale remains surprising high, you can’t get 43 down even if we do tend to swear a bit more then usual. However, we do all have the date Saturday, 4 May 1968, (the date for the next annual reunion dinner) firmly imprinted upon our tiny underpowered brains so have the doors open on the dot at 17:30 or they may get broken in the rush!’.

So, with the Squadron standard and all the rest of the paraphernalia already sailing towards the Cape on the homeward run 43 finally switched off and went into the shades from which in due course, and after not too long a time, it would re-emerge to start again doing, as it had always done, most things better than the rest of the competition.

As for the Hunter, its days as a front line aeroplane were over but for many who flew or serviced it in 43, the first to fly it and almost the last, it would not be quickly forgotten. The last real pilots aeroplane before the electronic age took over they called it. It is a true and fitting epitaph to a great machine that was always the better for being decorated with Black and White chequers and a fighting Cock in full boxing gear.