Patriot surface-to-air
missiles
DID
somebody say there’s a war on? Back at the Permanent
Joint HQ in the UK (our superior HQ), they were
beginning to get a bit twitchy at the number of RAF
Tornado losses – five in combat and one to a
malfunction. We all knew that something was wrong
somewhere, for the US were flying four or five times as
many sorties but were losing barely twice the number of
aircraft.
Mind you, the Tornado JP233 airfield denial munition
required them to fly straight and level down the middle
of the Iraqi runways at about 50 feet. All the bad guys
had to do was lie on their backs at either end of the
runway and fire up in the air; they were bound to hit
something.
By 23rd January 1991 the Coalition had flown
approximately 10,000 sorties, and whilst battle damage
assessment (BDA) was still sketchy, we knew that it must
be having some considerable effect, if only because the
Iraqis seemed unable, or unwilling, to do anything about
it. There was also some skirmishing on the Iraqi-Saudi
border on the night of 22/23 January, with some Iraqi
prisoners taken. On a lighter note, the British medical
unit 32 Field Hospital was nearly captured intact as it
drove up from Al Jubail to join the Division in the
middle of the night, missed the turning, and was only
stopped just before it drove straight into Iraqi
occupied Kuwait. What a PR disaster that would have
been!
Things settled down after the mayhem of the first few
days of the air war, but we were mystified by the lack
of Iraqi response. Their navy was being destroyed, their
airfields, command and communication centres, and
political/military/economic assets were being rapidly
eroded, and their only serious air sortie had been shot
out of the sky by Saudi F15s. On top of all this, the
Iraqi army was being hammered in situ from the air, with
one of their Republican Guard Force Divisions being
bombed every half hour by US B52s. There was now some
speculation that the Coalition ground forces might not
need to go into action at all given the success of the
air campaign.
The SCUD raids continued but had lost some of their fear
factor through familiarity and the fact that rarely was
anyone hurt or anything damaged. An exception occurred
on the night of 25/26 January when two missiles were
fired at Riyadh. Four Patriot surface-to-air missiles
(pictured) were launched to intercept, but there was
still an extremely loud bang seemingly close to
Headquarters British Forces Middle East (HQBFME) as at
least one warhead landed. We were masked-up for 20
minutes or so whilst investigations found out that some
damage had been done to a nearby building and possibly
one person had been killed and several injured.
We now had developed a little routine for dealing with
these attacks. The alarm came on our computer screens as
soon as the US satellites picked up the launch
signature. Non-essential personnel went quickly to the
basement which offered a modicum of cover and stayed
there until the all clear was sounded. Of those left,
usually two of us on the Land Cell desk, one made all
the required calls reporting the imminent attack to JHQ
in the UK, the Division in the desert (which reportedly
usually led to loud cheering as we in the cushy rear
were discomfited), and to various other organisations in
theatre.
The other got into his NBC suit, and then the roles were
swapped. This took roughly about four minutes, and as we
knew by then that the average time which elapsed between
the attack warning and the missile arriving was about
eight minutes, we spent the remaining four minutes
reading the newspapers, telling jokes, chatting, and
watching the clock. It was always quite a relief when we
heard the missile land or be intercepted and we knew we
were unharmed, but eventually we became quite blasé
about it. Even the local citizens had become notably
more relaxed about these raids and were frequently seen
scrambling on to the rooftops with video cameras to
record the SCUDs’ arrivals.
Around this time I received my second anthrax and
whooping cough jags, plus one against bubonic plague,
which came as a bit of a surprise. As expected these
made us all feel a bit ropey, although we did laugh when
we heard that the senior medical officer responsible for
administering the vaccinations had taken the following
day off because he felt unwell! Personally, I would have
dragged myself into work even if half dead to avoid the
embarrassment; an example of leadership a la Sandhurst
ethos it most definitely was not.
To our great delight we also became “SCUD aces” when
Riyadh was attacked for the fifth time. That particular
night eight missiles in all were fired by the Iraqis,
with six going to Israel, one towards the US base at
Dhahran, and one at us. Damage in Riyadh was negligible.
However, despite all the bombing the Iraqi army was
still a force to be reckoned with, and the night of
29/30 January saw the first significant moves on the
ground for some time. It began with reports from the US
Marine Corps, more or less directly south of Kuwait
City, of enemy tanks crossing the border. One of the
incursions seemed to be heading straight down the coast
road towards the Saudi coastal town of Ras Al Khafji.
The situation was extremely unclear for most of the
night and all our attempts to get more detailed
information were unsuccessful. Eventually we heard that
the Marines were claiming fifteen enemy tanks destroyed
for the loss of two of their own Light Armoured Vehicles
(LAVs). Sadly one of the US AC 130 gunships which had
been supporting the operation stayed around for too long
after daybreak and was shot down, killing all its crew.
Later the US Marines admitted their own casualties as
ten killed and about twenty wounded.
As February arrived things became noticeably quieter
overall. There were still missile attacks by the Iraqis
on both Saudi Arabia and Israel but we had become so
blasé about them by this time that sometimes we forgot
to mention them in our handover briefings to the
incoming day shift. There had been some amusing moments
during the raids; in one of them one of our fellow
officers had scrambled down to the basement of our
living accommodation dressed only in boxer shorts and
gas mask. During the raid he fell asleep, and at the
all-clear was left there as a joke by his comrades.
The poor chap woke some hours later, frozen,
disoriented, and still wearing his gas mask, swearing
terrible revenge on those who had left him behind. On
another occasion the same individual and a friend were
out in a local restaurant for lunch during one of the
rare daylight SCUD attacks. When the alarm sounded they
assumed it was another false alarm – there were many –
and continued with their meal, laughing at the antics of
the waiters who had only one gas mask between them and
were taking it in turns to breathe through it. They
quickly stopped laughing when things started to go bang
in the sky, and to their dismay found they had left
their NBC kit and respirators in the car and couldn’t
get to them because the waiters had locked the
restaurant door. Being gassed in a burger restaurant
because you had forgotten to bring your NBC kit would
not have been a particularly glorious way to appear on
the casualty list. And he was a Guards officer too! The
social shame would surely have been too much to bear for
his family.
Not surprisingly, with so little going on that affected
us directly, life at HQBFME became a little dull. On the
night shift in particular there was little to do. We all
made the most of the spare time to write home, and I
must have written to nearly everybody I could think of
whose address I knew. I was also pleasantly surprised by
the letters I received from friends whom I had not heard
for many years. I even got a couple of ‘phone calls from
civilian friends while I sat at the Ops desk – how on
Earth they got the number I never found out.
Use of “Freephone Saudi Arabia” was rife and rumours
were constantly circulating the day of reckoning was
fast approaching. On one famous occasion a spoof bill
for many thousands of pounds was issued on official
notepaper to one of the most profligate culprits,
sending him into a deep depression until he was let off
the hook. Oh how we laughed. In the end, however, we all
got away with it.
The lull before the storm was to last a little bit
longer yet, and I’ll cover that bit in the next
instalment.
To come in Part 25; strip poker, morale, and medals. |