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“DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY”
[Extract from FIGHTER PILOT, by
'Serge', p221-226]
During
September 1996, 77 Squadron RAAF deployed to Kuantan, Malaysia, for
a three week air-combat exercise called Churinga ‘96.
This was the first time that RAAF fighters trained with MiG-29N
aircraft. The last week involved participation in “large-force
employment” Exercise IADS 96-4.
The author, callsign
“SERGE”, was at that time a senior
“B-Category” pilot, posted to 77 SQN to
work as an understudy to “PROUDY”, whom SERGE describes as: “a fantastic
Fighter Combat Instructor who was going to groom me for my own FCI
course the following year”.
[IADS
96-4] …was when we Aussies came into our own, with
our ability to mass force well and, conversely, break-up large forces
well. The exercise was held over the South China Sea and we were
required to hold an ALERT 3 posture at the end of the runway, with one
engine shut down while awaiting the scramble order.
SCHLOPPS* was my wingman
for the exercise, as he had just arrived at 77 Squadron and was one of
our new Bograts. He fitted-in well and was learning the
ropes quickly. By the Thursday of the last week, SCHLOPPS and I
hadn’t had a single scramble, but had simply taxied out to the runway
threshold for three hours and then returned. Over
and over.
- I was filthy! I was in the middle of a large exercise and
SCHLOPPS was a sponge - I wanted to get him out there among the shit to
start training him. (His taxiing was very nice, however. -
Which was good, because it was about the only thing we did for the first
three days of the five-day exercise!)
I’d had enough, so I’d
started flicking through all the fighting frequencies that the airborne
aircraft were using, trying to find a fight anywhere over South-East
Asia that we could go and get into. Eventually I found one …sort
of.
[Radio chatter] “HERMES
/ VIPER: Bingo fuel, departing for the tanker.” -
VIPER were a pair of Singaporean F-16s who had been airborne long enough
to run out of fuel and were now heading to the tanker. This was
bullshit. I was sitting here in my 60-degree Celsius cockpit,
wearing plastic jeans, life jacket, helmet and gloves, while the F-16s
were swanning around, doing nothing but filling up their logbooks…
- Not if I had anything to do with it!
I pushed my radio to the
scramble net:
“HERMES
/ DESPOT: Request scramble.”
“Negative,
negative, DESPOT. Remain ALERT 3,”
came the reply. The role of HERMES was to efficiently
manage resources so that we always had aircraft up and aircraft on
alert. They would manage the assets like grand champions of
chess.
Trouble was, today one
of the pawns was a little froggy:
“HERMES, VIPER have departed CAP [Combat
Air Patrol] BRAVO 3 for the tanker,
leaving the eastern sector exposed. Suggest strike will
ingress via eastern sector. Request immediate
scramble.”
I
could imagine the Controller. Pause. Think…
Does DESPOT know what
he's talking about? He's an Aussie. They generally know
what they are talking about…
“DESPOT
- scramble, scramble, scramble. Vector 090. Make ANGELS 30.”
We
had our scramble order to head east and climb to 30,000 feet. “Roger. DESPOT scramble!”
I replied and gave SCHLOPPS the windup signal.
We lined up, with
SCHLOPPS on my right wing, and I nodded my head, signalling him to
release the brakes. Slowly lighting the burners, I made all
movements as smoothly as I could to help SCHLOPPS stay in close
formation. Once airborne, we checked our weapons systems and were
vectored out over the South China Sea. There were huge isolated
thunderstorms that stood tall and vertical over the water, making it
feel like we were flying through a mega-city of massive cloud
skyscrapers.
We jumped onto the VIPER
CAP-Point, which probably required them to return to base. (I
wasn’t concerned for them - we hadn’t flown all week.)
SCHLOPPS and I sat CAP
for two hours, without any activity, before we headed to the tanker to
refuel.
[After another hour on
patrol] …The tanker had returned to base and we had started to run low
on fuel when HERMES called us, to advise that our airfield had closed
due to unforecast bad weather. I immediately went across
to the tower frequency and could hear a C-130 conducting a missed
approach, due to low cloud. I then contacted our Operations
Desk and had the weather reports of all the diversion airfields
read to me. Although we still had enough fuel to fly to our base
at Kuantan and fly an instrument approach, we didn’t have enough fuel to
attempt an instrument approach and then divert to Kuala Lumpur,
which was our nearest airfield with suitable weather. I explained
to our Ops Desk that we would immediately divert to KL, the capital of
Malaysia.
Suddenly the voice
changed and my Flight Commander was on the ops radio: “DESPOT,
this is A-FLIGHT. You will RTB [Return to Base] to
Kuantan immediately.”
[SERGE:]
“Copied OPS. I just heard a C-130
go around.
- We don’t have the
fuel for that. We need to have the field open now, or we have
to divert.”
“The weather is improving and should be fine
by the time you get here,” replied my boss.
- I could hear a slight
irritation in his voice.
“They said that before we
left, and now the field is closed.
- I think the
weatherman is having a bad day and I'm not going to risk it”
“DESPOT - this is a direct
order. You will land at Kuantan. You do not have
Diplomatic Clearance for KL.”
While
I sympathised with my boss, knowing the amount of paperwork that
SCHLOPPS and I were about to generate,
I really didn’t feel it
was worth throwing a couple of jets away for. “Copied
OPS and understand. However, as captain of this aircraft and
the formation lead, I'm making the call. DESPOT - Channel
12. Go!” And with that we changed frequency
and started our diversion to KL.
The weather was fine at
KL and we flew a close-formation arrival in order to minimise our impact
on the civil traffic (which there was a lot of). I had trouble
concentrating on the approach, knowing that I was probably about to be
demoted, kicked off FCI Course, de-qualified, and God knows what
else, by the Australian Embassy staff in KL.
On landing I requested
an immediate refuel and advised Air Traffic we would be returning to
Kuantan in 1 hour. The control tower sent out a 'FOLLOW ME' car
and SCHLOPPS and I taxied into the refuel area. Not long after
shutdown, the refuel truck arrived and we started refuelling SCHLOPPS'
jet.
We noticed some Thai
F-16s parked a little further along the ramp, so I wandered down
to develop the Thai-Australian military relationship. I broke into
my best Thai. “Sar wah dee cup,
mate!” I said, reaching out to shake the hand of one of
the pilots, as I said hello in my strong Aussie accent. The Thais
are extremely friendly, and we have good aircrew relationships with
them. It wasn’t long before I had swapped some of my flying suit
patches for Mekong Whisky and returned to SCHLOPPS with arms
full of bottles of the addictive rice spirit. I opened the gun bay
of my jet and was filling it with my Golden Triangle contraband
when the Malaysian Military Police turned up, lights flashing, and
circled our jets. This doesn't look good, I thought, and started
wondering if ejecting in the missed approach at Kuantan might have been
a better option…
- I had heard some
bad stories about Malaysian prisons!
The senior MP approached
me, asking for ID papers, flight plan and diplomatic papers - none of
which I had.
- What about this
Kangaroo roundel and Aussie flag on the jet? I thought.
“Our
Embassy has all the paperwork. - What? They didn’t send
you a copy? I’m sure the paperwork is at your office right
now.” I said in my best ‘you’d better have your facts
straight, mate, or you'll be in the shit' voice.
The MP told me not to go
anywhere and promptly led his convoy off the ramp, no doubt to check out
my story.
As
soon as they had driven off, I disconnected the fuel hose from
SCHLOPPS's jet. “Mate, strap in and
start. Be ready to move ASAP. You have 2,000 litres -
that's enough to get us out of here.”
I then attached the hose
to my jet, asked the driver to increase the pressure and started putting
on my G-suit and Secumar [life vest] as quickly as I
could. I raced over to SCHLOPPS' jet, stowed his ladder and gave
him the windup signal. I then disconnected my fuel hose, signed
for the fuel, telling the driver that the MP would be back with the
authorisation shortly, and then climbed into my jet.
I immediately cranked
the engine and lowered the canopy to make it look like we were a lot
closer to taxiing than we actually were. Then I got a glimpse of
the MPs coming back along the taxiway with their lights flashing.
I
pushed up the throttles, released the park brake and started to taxi -
not even strapped into the jet yet. I
called up the Ground Controller, asking for permission to taxi,
and somehow had both SCHLOPPS and I moving when the MPs arrived.
They pulled alongside us and I kept my eyes looking forwards, as if
oblivious to the guards waving their arms (and guns) around.
It was a long taxi to
the far end of the runway, during which I had ample time to complete my
strap-in and ‘after-start’ checks. I checked with SCHLOPPS
and gave him a look-over, to make sure his canopy, flaps and trim were
set correctly.
By
now the weather had improved back at Kuantan and we were soon airborne
and on our way back to base.
(I never did hear
anything back from the KL Australian Embassy…)
I think the boss was
more upset at me transporting Mekong Whisky than disobeying his
order, as the Mechanics had started a rumour about me: that I was
running some sort of contraband trade across South-East Asia…
Note:
SERGE
has heavily-disguised all of the pilot names used in his
book, so there’s no way of ever knowing who the young keen pilot
*SCHLOPPS* really was; or how this ‘training’ experience might
have influenced his career; of if he ever had anything to do with
3SQN.
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