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ARK ROYAL and the Iraq War
It’s now 4 years since we - the ship’s
company, Squadrons, Royal Marines and staff of HMS ARK ROYAL – were
committed to Operation TELIC, the coalition war against Iraq, in March-April
2003. Memories of those few weeks remain sharp in the mind: weeks in which
ARK ROYAL was re-tasked from a planned Far East deployment, prepared for
combat, played her part in mounting and supporting the invasion of the Al-Faw
pensinsula, and then made her way back to Britain whilst readying herself
for the next potential call to arms.
It was the most extraordinary period: one
which took us all through uncertainty, apprehension and fatigue; from
elation to utter dejection; back up to grim, determined moral strength and –
finally – to the satisfaction of a mission successfully completed…though at
a tragic and unforgettable cost.
What one remembers most clearly is not so
much the sight and sounds of the ship herself, although these are always
impressive and captivating. But rather, the faces, personalities and
mannerisms of the 1,080 people who sailed in her from Portsmouth to the very
northern end of the Arabian Gulf. A rich mix of ages, backgrounds,
experience and attitudes, it is they who personally brought ARK to life and
gave her the vibrant, upbeat, resilient character for which that aircraft
carrier has always been so well known around Britain and the world.
The ship was filled with men and women whose
hard-won professional competence was more than matched by unquestioning
moral commitment, enthusiasm and – above all – the humanity, humility and
humour that most clearly distinguish the really great teams from the merely
good. These things were everywhere in evidence: as much so in moments of
relaxation, ribaldry and fun as in the long days of hard, repeated training;
and eventually in combat itself. The whole team came together with an
unshakeable sense of purpose and a determined will to win. And they needed
precious little steerage from above.
As we moved from January towards possible,
then certain, combat operations, the ship’s senior leadership knew it would
be very important to maintain an atmosphere of normality on board. Yes, we
had to prepare seriously for battle, and the threats and risks would be real
enough. But the transition-to-war process needed to be measured, carefully
balanced and sensibly paced. We took great care to keep familiar routines in
place: fitness circuits and aerobics training several times a day (bless our
two indefatigable Physical Training Instructors), film nights, quizzes,
quarterdeck church services, Divisional briefs and meetings, band concerts.
And of course that flight deck barbecue on 2 February in the Red Sea,
immortalized in Lt Philip Green’s marvellously evocative ‘Boys of Summer’
video clip, in which 849 Squadron made their characteristically lively and
irreverent contribution to the ship’s life.
Meanwhile, every entity and individual
within the ship worked themselves ceaselessly up in flying, amphibious
assault procedures, gunnery, damage control, firefighting, chemical defence,
medical emergency, communications, tactical warfare, navigation and
seamanship. And for much of the time - around 60 days of our total of 89
unbroken days at sea - most of the crew were in ‘defence watches’:
relentlessly 8 hours on, 8 hours off , for weeks on end. For the youngest
and most inexperienced – we had many 18-year olds on board, and also many
sailors and Marines only in their first real jobs in the Navy – it was
undoubtedly physically tiring and mentally stressful. It was crucial to keep
everybody involved, informed and encouraged. As always, good leadership at
every level meant personal contact, constant communication and a deliberate
message that every single person had something vitally important to
contribute – which was abundantly true. Safety was paramount; and a sense of
family community within our austere grey surroundings was critically
important to shared commitment, instinctive teamwork and clearly-defined
common cause.
The boys and girls of 849 Squadron played
their full part in all of this; and more. The professional Royal Navy –
especially the aircraft carrier community - has a deep affection and respect
for the ‘Bags’: helicopters, pilots, observers and ground crew alike. This
was firmly reinforced during Op TELIC. Always seeming that bit wiser, more
guileful and more willing than most to think and operate ‘outside the box’,
they worked wonders with their - forgive me - slightly ageing and ungainly
aircraft. And they usually emerged from training exercises with the emphatic
upper hand – be it during fighter intercepts, surface surveillance and
attack control, or even ‘routine’ airborne early warning sorties. During
this deployment, they generally strode grinning from the flight deck; and
were predictably noisy in the Wardroom and other Messes afterwards – Lt Andy
Wilson’s famous dent in the Wardroom ceiling, inflicted by his head during a
night of typically high jinks, quickly acquired totemic status throughout
the ship.
It was completely in character for 849 that
they should have taken on board their upgraded Mk 7 aircraft in 2002, with
its entirely new mission system, and then immediately set about further
developing and exploring its utility: well beyond – of course - its designed
capabilities. Even the newest, youngest members of the Squadron were
instantly imbued with the same desire for that winning professional edge.
And it was exciting to see how, with almost every new sortie from ARK’s
deck, they worked innovatively to push the boundaries of what the Mk 7 could
bring to the ship and the wider Task Group. Pride in their achievement was
palpable, and widely shared. Even Commander Air (‘Wings’), an anti-submarine
helicopter observer, seemed just about willing to admit that 849 were onto
something very special with their swiftly evolving warfare capability.
It wasn’t widely understood at the time just
how important the 849 contribution was, in the first days of the war. In the
dark, early hours of 21 March with the ship uncomfortably close inshore, we
launched ‘D’ Company – some 150 men - of 40 Commando Royal Marines by
assault helicopter from ARK’s flight deck, into the hostile territory of
southern Iraq. There, they joined with the rest of 40 Commando and 42
Commando to secure the oil infrastructure of the Al-Faw peninsula, dominate
the ground, and cover the right flank of the main invasion force as it broke
though from Kuwait northwards towards Baghdad. Theirs were the first
conventional coalition boots on Iraq’s territory, and during the initial
phase of the war they were dangerously exposed to any determined Iraqi
counter-attack from strongholds in Basra or further north.
849’s major and unique task at this critical
point was to maintain a continuous airborne radar watch for enemy movements
towards our Marines, in order both to provide advance warning to the Land
Headquarters ashore, and to direct other British attack forces to cut the
enemy off. They did both these things with stunning – and unprecedented –
success, pushing their mission system to its newly-defined limits while
flying round the clock in sometimes tricky conditions and congested
airspace. They had a single, unswerving aim: to look after their comrades on
the ground.
It came as a shattering, unimaginably awful
blow when, only some 24 hours into ‘our’ war, the 849 helicopters Red Rat 34
and 35 collided over the waters of the Gulf, just 5 miles from ARK, in the
early hours of 22 March. At a stroke, we lost seven of our finest, most
dedicated young airmen, causing a shock wave which – although we perhaps
even underestimated its effect at the time – reverberated through every ship
of the Task Group, and indeed through the whole of the deployed British
contingent in the area. My own crew in ARK will never forget the personal
impact of that moment, and the effect it had on us in the hours and days
that followed. The sudden loss of close colleagues and friends is not
something for which you can readily prepare or train in advance: there is no
‘right’ formula, and I suspect it will always come down to individual
strength of character, spirit and heart. But this was a very, very tough
time for the ship. And we could not even begin to imagine what it must have
been like for the families: they were constantly in our minds, but
frustratingly and painfully beyond our practical reach.
It would be wrong to dwell too much on this
impossibly sad and debilitating event. But two things remain indelibly in
the mind from that day. First, the absolute insistence of every single
member of 849 Squadron on getting their remaining aircraft back into the
air: to crack on with their job, and finish the mission. Which they did,
resoundingly well. And second, the immensely strong and sensitive personal
leadership shown by every one of the officers, senior rates, leading hands
and team leaders on board, in getting our people back on their feet from
shock and despair, and right back into the battle. They – all of them – did
brilliantly. And thanks to their efforts, ARK’s contribution to the Task
Group and the war as a whole remained undiminished. Their performance was,
frankly, humbling.
There is a third thing: that was the extreme
bravery and selflessness of the US Navy diving team from USS CATAWBA, who
spent day after day in dangerously exposed waters, with the war still in
full flow, to seek and recover our lost airmen from the sea. Unforced,
unsung and undemonstrative, their incredible commitment was a huge and
indispensable boost to our crew, and will always hold our grateful
admiration. Just as Lt Tom Adams USN was utterly dedicated to his task as an
exchange observer in 849, so this team underlined the great strength of the
military bond between our countries.
Four years on, the Iraq war has become
deeply immersed in controversy, and plenty of popular
wisdom-after-the-event. But this should never be allowed in the slightest to
demean or diminish the quality and value of all that was achieved at sea, on
the ground and in the air during that perilous period. These things deserve
to remain a source of the utmost professional pride and satisfaction, in
which everyone connected with ARK ROYAL and her Task Group can justifiably
share. One dares to hope that the same will also, always, apply to the
memory of the 849 boys who gave everything for our cause, and our people.
Their commitment, and the unique part they played in the vibrant lives of
their Squadron and ship, will never be forgotten.
Alan Massey
April 2007
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