Post by Admin on Apr 25, 2019 0:29:27 GMT 10
Here's one I wrote in 2008 or so when I did a profile of an RAN F-35. I updated the profile in 2010 and have attached it here.
Operation Eastern Crusade - Baptism of Fire
A light tropical wind blew across the deck of the HMAS Gallipoli, one of the RAN’s new LPAs or ‘Clayton’s Carriers’ as the swabbies liked to joke.
For the early morning strike over the coast of Timor, Sub-Lt John Mallory, son of George Mallory, the Australian Prime Minister and his wingman had readied themselves before dawn in the flying crew quarters below deck. A gifted pilot, Mallory had breezed through his initial flight training and had been offered a spot within the F-35 Lightning OCU, No 724 NAS. Once again, proving his ability, he had quickly completed conversion to the RAN’s newest aircraft and first fixed wing asset in over 20 years. Posted to No 805 NAS aboard HMAS Gallipoli, he had easily taken the duties required of him in his stride and had been made a section leader within a year of joining the Squadron.
With the outbreak of the Indonesian civil war that plunged the area into crisis, Gallipoli and her attendant squadrons had steamed towards the Timor Sea to provide support for the 1st Australian Task Force, comprising of A Sqn, 1st Armoured Regt, 2 RAR and ¾ Cav with the attendant medical and logistical support units.
Mallory and his wingman, Sub-Lt Michael Johnson headed towards their respective aircraft.
‘Morning Sir’, the plane captain, an Able Seaman snapped to salute the young pilot.
“Morning, Holden, how’s the old girl this lovely morning?’
“Ship shape Mr Mallory, we’ve managed to iron out that databus problem and completed the line replacement last night before lights out”, the older man replied.
“Very good.” Mallory ascended the boarding ladder and swung himself into the cockpit.
AS Holden followed him up, helping him strap in and connect his various leads and hoses into the aircraft. “Good hunting, Sir.” He said, swinging the canopy shut and hearing the locking mechanism engage. Sliding down the ladder, he disengaged it and quickly moved it out of the fighter’s way.
Looking over his shoulder, Mallory could see his wingman’s Lightning sliding into line behind his as they moved towards the edge of the flight deck. The Gallipoli and her sister ship, HMAS Kokoda both sported a ski-jump similar to the Royal Navy’s carriers to allow for a rolling takeoff, thus greatly reducing the fuel consumption for taking off from the short deck of the LPA without the benefit of a catapult like a larger CV type vessel.
Both aircraft were armed alike, two JDAMs and two AMRAAMs along with a pair of externally hung drop tanks to increase the flight’s ability to loiter over the battlefield. During the pre-dawn briefing, both pilots were informed that their primary target would be a bridge and it’s attendant defences a kilometre or so from the beachhead. It was felt that neutralising the bridge would effectively stop any major advance by the militia forces that had over-run the Timorese in the early stages of the crisis. Predominantly armed with old AK assault rifles and transported by anything with wheels, the militia wouldn’t provide too much of a threat if the single bridge leading to the target beach could be dropped. Given the lack of enemy air assets, the aircraft would fly without their centreline gun-pods allowing them to remain as agile as possible. The target had originally been tasked a day earlier, however, an unseasonal downpour had restricted flying and denied the strike by the Gallipoli and so this early morning raid was planned to catch the militia before they reached the bridge.
Mallory’s aircraft leapt down the deck of the Gallipoli, turbofan whining as he watched the ski-jump growing in his windscreen. With a deft flick of the throttle controls, the F/A-35K slid up the ramp quickly gaining airspeed and then dipped slightly as both engine power and wings lifted it into the sky. By the time he had cleaned up his flaps and landing gear, his wingman had also left the Gallipoli’s deck clawing through the sky to link up with his own aircraft. Following standard procedure, the flight would remain radio silent until they had accomplished their mission to ensure the greatest surprise.
Knowing his drop tanks would increase his radar signature; Mallory brought his aircraft towards the mist-clouded ocean, levelling at 200 feet above the waves. Taking care to keep his airspeed below supersonic and avoid the telltale ‘boom’, Mallory scanned his moving map display. His radar screen was silent as he had it running passively so as not to give an active radar signature, relying instead on the EO system located under the aircraft’s nose and the image it gave on his MFD.
High above, patrolling out of enemy range, an RAAF Wedgetail scanned the progress of the two Navy aircraft.
“They should be feet wet in about 5 minutes, sir”, the tac operator turned to the Taccom.
“Excellent, still no sign of any air movement?” the older officer asked.
“No sir, clear skies as far as we see”.
“Nasty surprise for those Indos if they’ve decided to reach the beach before the Task Force, maybe the ‘squids’ will be lucky and they’ll have a pop at some of their troopies on the ground.” the Tactical Commander replied, smirking behind a bushy moustache. “Keep an eye on ‘em either way, son”
“Roger that sir”
Over the coastline, the strikers had reached their IP and steered towards the bridge.
The GPS co-ordinates had been programmed into the JDAMs data banks on-board the Gallipoli, but Mallory rechecked the figures, “Better safe than sorry” he murmured to himself. A millisecond pulse of the Lightning’s radar, too quick for any enemy to track on confirmed the data from the JDAMs. He sharpened the image of the EO tracker from a broad cone into a tight beam directed towards the bridge.
Suddenly Johnson screamed over the radio, “SAM launch, SAM launch!”
Simultaneously, the IR threat indicator screamed into life, a high-pitched warble of a missile tracking towards him. Mallory snapped off a stream of flares and rolled his aircraft onto one wing, pulling hard towards the missile’s flightpath, to scramble it’s tracking solution.
The small shoulder fired missile broke track almost instantly, screaming away from Mallory’s aircraft and out towards the sea. Mallory looked over his shoulder for his wingman and almost froze as a glowing line of tracers snaked up from the jungle below.
“Triple A on your right quarter!” he screamed into his mike, watching almost in slow motion as the tracers reached up towards his wingman’s aircraft.
“Where, where, I can…….” Johnson’s frantic cries were cut-off as the heavy calibre gunfire stitched a line across his cockpit, vaporising his HUD and instrument panel before tearing him apart.
With a sickening thud, the Lightning’s fuel tanks ruptured, the ugly orange blossom spreading out showering the jungle below with wreckage.
“Albatross Nest, Albatross One, Albatross Two is down over target, repeat Albatross Two is down over target!” Mallory rolled his aircraft around towards the bridge, jinking to avoid the lethal gunfire. His only chance was altitude, and a lot of it. Reefing back on the flight controls and pushing his throttle past its stop into afterburner, the F/A-35 leapt skywards, leaving the deadly attentions of the heavy gun far below.
Back aboard the Wedgetail, a controlled pandemonium ensued. “Sir, I have one aircraft over the target area, climbing through 5000 feet, Albatross One, no sign of Two since the mayday call. I also have two unknown contacts heading towards the target area at approximately 80 miles, closing speed 700 knots!”
The Taccom growled angrily. “Albatross One, the is Eagle Eye you have two contacts approaching from the North-West assume hostile.” Switching radio channels, he called up a flight of F/A-18A Hornets patrolling with a tanker some distance behind them. “Hawk Flight, this is Eagle Eye, I have trade for you heading to Target Alpha, Albatross Flight has been compromised and Albatross Two is down to hostile fire”. Stabbing a button on his console, he activated the data-link that would transmit the most current position of all aircraft to both the Hornets and Mallory’s surviving Lightning.
“Eagle Eye, this is Hawk Flight, vectoring to Target Alpha now”, the Hornet lead radioed
Back over the bridge, Mallory’s data-link beeped into life, showing the updated positions of his aircraft and the two unknowns. As he swept through 6000 feet, his RWR screamed into life. “Eagle Eye, this is Albatross One, I have been painted, repeat I have been painted!” he yelled, pitching his aircraft into a tight loop and punching his drop tanks off along with bundles of chaff.
As the nose of his aircraft swung towards the jungle floor, the scream of the RWR was replaced with a staccato chirping. “Eagle Eye, Albatross One, I have an air-launch repeat air-launch! I am being engaged!”
Another wad of chaff blossomed from out of the Lightning just as the first missile detonated near the tumbling drop tanks. Mallory had little time to witness the fireball above him as the second missile detonated just below his weapons bay, the JDAMs adding to the fireball that tore his fighter apart.
Two hours later, George Mallory, Prime Minister of Australia stood before a packed press gallery. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, people of Australia. It is my sad duty to inform you that this morning at 6 o’clock local time, two RAN aircraft on a mission over East Timor were shot down with the loss of both pilots.” The man’s steel grey eyes glistened and his lower lip trembled. “At least one of those aircraft was shot down by Indonesian aircraft in an attempt to thwart the RAN’s mission of destroying a bridge. Most of you by now know that the aircraft so engaged was piloted by my son, John. This is quite simply an outrage and an act of war! It is my sad duty to inform the Australian public that as of this time, our country is in a state of war with Indonesia and her militia allies that have attempted to thwart legal rule of both the Indonesian mainland and East Timor’s sovereignty. We shall be using every means at our disposal to ensure that both of these travesties are set right. Thank you.”
Operation Eastern Crusade - Baptism of Fire
A light tropical wind blew across the deck of the HMAS Gallipoli, one of the RAN’s new LPAs or ‘Clayton’s Carriers’ as the swabbies liked to joke.
For the early morning strike over the coast of Timor, Sub-Lt John Mallory, son of George Mallory, the Australian Prime Minister and his wingman had readied themselves before dawn in the flying crew quarters below deck. A gifted pilot, Mallory had breezed through his initial flight training and had been offered a spot within the F-35 Lightning OCU, No 724 NAS. Once again, proving his ability, he had quickly completed conversion to the RAN’s newest aircraft and first fixed wing asset in over 20 years. Posted to No 805 NAS aboard HMAS Gallipoli, he had easily taken the duties required of him in his stride and had been made a section leader within a year of joining the Squadron.
With the outbreak of the Indonesian civil war that plunged the area into crisis, Gallipoli and her attendant squadrons had steamed towards the Timor Sea to provide support for the 1st Australian Task Force, comprising of A Sqn, 1st Armoured Regt, 2 RAR and ¾ Cav with the attendant medical and logistical support units.
Mallory and his wingman, Sub-Lt Michael Johnson headed towards their respective aircraft.
‘Morning Sir’, the plane captain, an Able Seaman snapped to salute the young pilot.
“Morning, Holden, how’s the old girl this lovely morning?’
“Ship shape Mr Mallory, we’ve managed to iron out that databus problem and completed the line replacement last night before lights out”, the older man replied.
“Very good.” Mallory ascended the boarding ladder and swung himself into the cockpit.
AS Holden followed him up, helping him strap in and connect his various leads and hoses into the aircraft. “Good hunting, Sir.” He said, swinging the canopy shut and hearing the locking mechanism engage. Sliding down the ladder, he disengaged it and quickly moved it out of the fighter’s way.
Looking over his shoulder, Mallory could see his wingman’s Lightning sliding into line behind his as they moved towards the edge of the flight deck. The Gallipoli and her sister ship, HMAS Kokoda both sported a ski-jump similar to the Royal Navy’s carriers to allow for a rolling takeoff, thus greatly reducing the fuel consumption for taking off from the short deck of the LPA without the benefit of a catapult like a larger CV type vessel.
Both aircraft were armed alike, two JDAMs and two AMRAAMs along with a pair of externally hung drop tanks to increase the flight’s ability to loiter over the battlefield. During the pre-dawn briefing, both pilots were informed that their primary target would be a bridge and it’s attendant defences a kilometre or so from the beachhead. It was felt that neutralising the bridge would effectively stop any major advance by the militia forces that had over-run the Timorese in the early stages of the crisis. Predominantly armed with old AK assault rifles and transported by anything with wheels, the militia wouldn’t provide too much of a threat if the single bridge leading to the target beach could be dropped. Given the lack of enemy air assets, the aircraft would fly without their centreline gun-pods allowing them to remain as agile as possible. The target had originally been tasked a day earlier, however, an unseasonal downpour had restricted flying and denied the strike by the Gallipoli and so this early morning raid was planned to catch the militia before they reached the bridge.
Mallory’s aircraft leapt down the deck of the Gallipoli, turbofan whining as he watched the ski-jump growing in his windscreen. With a deft flick of the throttle controls, the F/A-35K slid up the ramp quickly gaining airspeed and then dipped slightly as both engine power and wings lifted it into the sky. By the time he had cleaned up his flaps and landing gear, his wingman had also left the Gallipoli’s deck clawing through the sky to link up with his own aircraft. Following standard procedure, the flight would remain radio silent until they had accomplished their mission to ensure the greatest surprise.
Knowing his drop tanks would increase his radar signature; Mallory brought his aircraft towards the mist-clouded ocean, levelling at 200 feet above the waves. Taking care to keep his airspeed below supersonic and avoid the telltale ‘boom’, Mallory scanned his moving map display. His radar screen was silent as he had it running passively so as not to give an active radar signature, relying instead on the EO system located under the aircraft’s nose and the image it gave on his MFD.
High above, patrolling out of enemy range, an RAAF Wedgetail scanned the progress of the two Navy aircraft.
“They should be feet wet in about 5 minutes, sir”, the tac operator turned to the Taccom.
“Excellent, still no sign of any air movement?” the older officer asked.
“No sir, clear skies as far as we see”.
“Nasty surprise for those Indos if they’ve decided to reach the beach before the Task Force, maybe the ‘squids’ will be lucky and they’ll have a pop at some of their troopies on the ground.” the Tactical Commander replied, smirking behind a bushy moustache. “Keep an eye on ‘em either way, son”
“Roger that sir”
Over the coastline, the strikers had reached their IP and steered towards the bridge.
The GPS co-ordinates had been programmed into the JDAMs data banks on-board the Gallipoli, but Mallory rechecked the figures, “Better safe than sorry” he murmured to himself. A millisecond pulse of the Lightning’s radar, too quick for any enemy to track on confirmed the data from the JDAMs. He sharpened the image of the EO tracker from a broad cone into a tight beam directed towards the bridge.
Suddenly Johnson screamed over the radio, “SAM launch, SAM launch!”
Simultaneously, the IR threat indicator screamed into life, a high-pitched warble of a missile tracking towards him. Mallory snapped off a stream of flares and rolled his aircraft onto one wing, pulling hard towards the missile’s flightpath, to scramble it’s tracking solution.
The small shoulder fired missile broke track almost instantly, screaming away from Mallory’s aircraft and out towards the sea. Mallory looked over his shoulder for his wingman and almost froze as a glowing line of tracers snaked up from the jungle below.
“Triple A on your right quarter!” he screamed into his mike, watching almost in slow motion as the tracers reached up towards his wingman’s aircraft.
“Where, where, I can…….” Johnson’s frantic cries were cut-off as the heavy calibre gunfire stitched a line across his cockpit, vaporising his HUD and instrument panel before tearing him apart.
With a sickening thud, the Lightning’s fuel tanks ruptured, the ugly orange blossom spreading out showering the jungle below with wreckage.
“Albatross Nest, Albatross One, Albatross Two is down over target, repeat Albatross Two is down over target!” Mallory rolled his aircraft around towards the bridge, jinking to avoid the lethal gunfire. His only chance was altitude, and a lot of it. Reefing back on the flight controls and pushing his throttle past its stop into afterburner, the F/A-35 leapt skywards, leaving the deadly attentions of the heavy gun far below.
Back aboard the Wedgetail, a controlled pandemonium ensued. “Sir, I have one aircraft over the target area, climbing through 5000 feet, Albatross One, no sign of Two since the mayday call. I also have two unknown contacts heading towards the target area at approximately 80 miles, closing speed 700 knots!”
The Taccom growled angrily. “Albatross One, the is Eagle Eye you have two contacts approaching from the North-West assume hostile.” Switching radio channels, he called up a flight of F/A-18A Hornets patrolling with a tanker some distance behind them. “Hawk Flight, this is Eagle Eye, I have trade for you heading to Target Alpha, Albatross Flight has been compromised and Albatross Two is down to hostile fire”. Stabbing a button on his console, he activated the data-link that would transmit the most current position of all aircraft to both the Hornets and Mallory’s surviving Lightning.
“Eagle Eye, this is Hawk Flight, vectoring to Target Alpha now”, the Hornet lead radioed
Back over the bridge, Mallory’s data-link beeped into life, showing the updated positions of his aircraft and the two unknowns. As he swept through 6000 feet, his RWR screamed into life. “Eagle Eye, this is Albatross One, I have been painted, repeat I have been painted!” he yelled, pitching his aircraft into a tight loop and punching his drop tanks off along with bundles of chaff.
As the nose of his aircraft swung towards the jungle floor, the scream of the RWR was replaced with a staccato chirping. “Eagle Eye, Albatross One, I have an air-launch repeat air-launch! I am being engaged!”
Another wad of chaff blossomed from out of the Lightning just as the first missile detonated near the tumbling drop tanks. Mallory had little time to witness the fireball above him as the second missile detonated just below his weapons bay, the JDAMs adding to the fireball that tore his fighter apart.
Two hours later, George Mallory, Prime Minister of Australia stood before a packed press gallery. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, people of Australia. It is my sad duty to inform you that this morning at 6 o’clock local time, two RAN aircraft on a mission over East Timor were shot down with the loss of both pilots.” The man’s steel grey eyes glistened and his lower lip trembled. “At least one of those aircraft was shot down by Indonesian aircraft in an attempt to thwart the RAN’s mission of destroying a bridge. Most of you by now know that the aircraft so engaged was piloted by my son, John. This is quite simply an outrage and an act of war! It is my sad duty to inform the Australian public that as of this time, our country is in a state of war with Indonesia and her militia allies that have attempted to thwart legal rule of both the Indonesian mainland and East Timor’s sovereignty. We shall be using every means at our disposal to ensure that both of these travesties are set right. Thank you.”
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