Preparing the Super Hornets at AMAB
Bit the RAAF contingent in the Middle East are engaged in a war every day and night.
This is an attempt to tell part of their story.
THE TEAM
As soon as the RAAF KC-30 tanker flew
north of Baiji, about 150 kilometres north of Baghdad, the chatter over the
tactical radio becomes incessant. A slow American drawl requests the refuelling
aircraft to enter Syrian airspace (Australian answer: “No”); clipped English
tones reveal the presence of a pair of RAF Tornados; and occasionally a Saudi
or Iraqi voice can be heard cutting through the airwaves. Two US Hornets wheel
below before soaring up and hooking onto the refuelling pods trailing out
behind the tanker. After sucking-up the aviation turbine gas they peel away,
floating back to the battle where they’ll re-engage in the fight.
Describing the intervention in
Iraq as an “air war” makes it sound remote and slightly ineffectual. But in the
air 20,000 feet above Mosul, those words don’t seem right. The strike aircraft
are having an impact. Just because the planes slice quickly through the air
doesn’t mean their effect on the ground isn't precise and significant. Advances
in targeting mean intelligence is now capable of identifying pivotal objectives
and assigning missions that are having a strategic effect. The airmen insist
they can already see they’re making a difference on the ground.
A couple of weeks ago, before the
Air Task Group had deployed, the ISIL technicals (four-wheel drive vehicles
equipped with heavy machine guns) roamed northern Iraq at will. They delivered
mobility to the insurgents, suddenly turning up beside, or even behind, Iraqi
positions and outflanking the slow moving, government forces. They fled in
panic, further boosting the reputation of the Islamic terrorists.
Initially, ISIL treated the
allied air effort with distain. After the allies sorted out information flows and
targeting procedures, things changed. An Australian Super Hornet pilot, who’s
name can’t be used, describes the change. He insists the battlefield altered as
the effectiveness of the strikes became apparent.
“At first the technicals realised
that if they moved we’d spot them. They’d be destroyed”, he says. “So they hid,
but we found them anyway. Then ISIL began repositioning vehicles under the
cover of night. They didn’t realise coalition infra-red cameras still lit them
up. Their signature made them stand out and we could actually see what was
going on much better than they could.” He pauses. “Now they don’t move at night,
either.”
Without vehicles the insurgents, who
used to move at 100 kilometres an hour, have been reduced to the speed of two
legs. Without mobility their tactical advantage has been stripped away, but
that’s not all. Recent years have seen dramatic improvements in monitoring the
electronic spectrum and the resulting intelligence makes the air campaign even
more effective. ISIL’s leaders have been forced to stop using telephones: they
know if they do, they’ll be targeted. Nevertheless there have been a number of
occasions on which the pilots haven’t used their weapons.
Australia has two “red card”
holders, as well as the flyers themselves. If there’s any uncertainty about the
nature of the target or the possibility of collateral damage, anyone can abort
the mission. The card has already been played a couple of times when it
appeared the Super Hornets were operating outside our own Rules of Engagement.
One pilot repeats what’s becoming a new mantra amongst those flying the
aircraft.
“Your best bomb could be the bomb
you don’t drop,” he says. “No one wants to kill civilians. We’re very aware we
could loose the war in a day if we did. It would vindicate those opposing the
war.” The fighter pilot is emphatic. We’ve got to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
As experience accumulates, the flyers
are learning to distinguish between when a weapon should be used and when it
should stay on the rack. They’re well aware that killing civilians, even
accidently, would be a disaster. It would present ISIL with a propaganda coup.
“No one would ever be criticised for failure to release a weapon,” he adds.
When the planes return, extensive
debriefs go through the real-time footage that’s been assembled by the planes
sensors. This is examined, frame-by-frame, replaying decisions made by the crew
during the mission. Aircrew run through their actions. This is another advantage
of the Super Hornet, which has two people in each aircraft. One concentrates on
flying the plane; behind him the weapons systems officer “adds value”, by focusing
on the mission.
Flights regularly take up to ten
hours, with each plane circling and waiting for tasks or targets to become
available. “Every one of us has to find a way of coping with the physical tension
of simply sitting in one place for ten hours at a time”, another pilot says later
over dinner. His friend nods. “When I finished my last mission, my left leg had
gone to sleep. The other night I couldn’t sleep on one side because of a sore
ear. No matter how much I’d fiddled with it, I just couldn’t get the headphones
to sit right.” The simple physical toll of performing these long missions
shouldn’t be ignored. “Of course,” he continues, “that’s not the sort of thing
you focus on at the time. You’re far too busy worrying about what you’re doing
and what’s going on in the battle-space.”
* * *
“There’s no moral ambiguity about
this mission.” The engineer officer is unequivocal. “Nobody has a problem with
why we’re here; what we’re doing.”
For a journalist, spending time
embedded with a military unit is a mixed experience. You’ve got to be careful
not to ‘drink the cool-aid’ and simply accept what you’re told. The reporter
needs to distinguish the objective fact and separate it out from what a
particular officer might want the truth to be. In this instance, however,
there’s a remarkable synergy between what the aircrew and their supporting
staff are saying and the way they’re acting.
“You know it’s real when you see
an aircraft coming back and a bomb’s gone”, says the engineer. “We’ve got no
problem here motivating people and getting them to work.”
There’s camaraderie and pride
amongst those chosen for the mission. Most people were only notified they might
be wanted for the Middle East on a Tuesday: they were on their way less than a
week later. Simple things, like pay and conditions, still haven’t been sorted
out, however none of this is affecting the attitude of the airmen (or airwomen
– there’s a large female presence).
As an example, there’s nothing
salubrious about accommodation for the bulk of the Task Group. There’s none of
the purpose-designed accommodation you’d expect to find, so airmen were
allocated to the old disused barracks at Camp Holland. These tin roofed huts in
the hot, dry desert atmosphere sleep 30 per room. But when some senior NCO’s
were offered a couple of single and double rooms elsewhere, they decided to
stay with the airmen.
By this stage any Vietnam veteran
reading is probably muttering scathing comments. It’s true, today’s aircrew do
have the luxury of sleeping in proper, rather than camp beds and eating fresh
meals instead subsisting on tinned rations. The point is, though, that the type
of war we’re fighting has changed. Very different skills are now expected from
these technical operators. The effect depends less on any one individual. Each
time a Super Hornet drops a bomb it represents the cumulative effect of every
part of an intricate machine that’s finally spat out the precise target.
It’s the same with the
composition of the aircraft themselves. The three types that are deployed – the
KC-30 tanker; E-7A airborne early warning and control aircraft; and the Super
Hornet multirole fighters – all seem to have very different personalities and
appeal to different types of people. The days of fighter pilots scrambling; running
to their planes before a dogfight in the air are long gone. It’s as out-of-date
as the image of pilots as hard-drinking, smoking womanisers. Today fighter
pilots are more likely to be introverted geeks (their description, not mine);
the tanker crew a collection of brilliant nerds (again, their words); and the Wedgetail
operators are problem solvers.
One of these compares his crew’s
task, maintaining command and control of the battle-space, as similar to
playing ever more complex games of Tetris. As soon as one solution’s been
found, another’s required. He points to the forward section of the aircraft,
where ten Air Operations Officers sit behind their consoles. “This is the
brains of the outfit”, he says. “It’s just agricultural down the back.”
It’s one of those cases where everyone’s
part of a team and every part is equally critical. Unless every individual
functions smoothly together as a tiny part of the overall mechanism, the
desired result won’t be achieved.
* * *
Air Commodore Steven Roberton
commands the Task Group from the Combined Air and Space Operations Centre. This
isn’t based with the ‘air assets’, again demonstrating the different nature of
modern battle. Instead he’s connected by secure video link to Joint Operations
in Bungendore, politicians in Canberra and, in real time, the aircraft over
Iraq. A former fighter pilot himself, he’s waved a red flag more than once to
ensure Australian rules of engagement are respected. But the relationship with
partner nations is strong.
“The US air component commander’s
told me that the one thing I’ll never hear out of his mouth is that he’s got
too many Australians”, says Roberton. “Eight aircraft might sound like a
‘modest contribution’,” he adds, “but as far as the coalition’s concerned we’re
making a tangible difference.” He’s previously spent time in Iraq, as well as
on exchange with the US Marines. “The US has been ‘forward leaning’, seeking us
out for the higher risk missions. They’re throwing us into the very centre of
the fight, tough missions where if something went wrong the resulting problems
would be very serious.”
This comment refers to the
ever-present danger of hitting civilians, something Roberton is determined to
avoid. “This is a multi-faceted, complex, conflict that requires engaging with
the tribes and locals in a way we haven’t previously.” This helps to explain why
the roll-out of the air offensive has been slow. The intention is to build-up
in a sustainable way; supporting the Iraqi army and ensuring every bomb hits a
valid target.
Roberton refers regularly to the
words in his mission statement – degrade and disrupt. He knows airpower alone
won’t be enough to destroy ISIL. Two serious problems are already evident.
Firstly, there just aren’t enough
planes to cover all the areas ISIL fighters are operating in at once. And even
if there were, to be really effective the aircraft require targets to be
designated from observer teams. Without these specialists, capable of directing
the enormous power of air weapons to change the combat dynamic on the ground,
the beleaguered defenders will find it difficult – if not impossible – to
decisively defeat the ISIL technicals.
The second problem follows from
the first. Airpower can’t hold ground. At some point the land battle will need
to be joined, but so far the Iraqi army has demonstrated no capacity to defeat
ISIL; some fear the Kurdish Peshmerga isn’t strong enough to hold; while the
Syrian opposition still squabbles amongst itself. There’s absolutely no chance
a ‘moderate’ faction will overthrow the Assad government, yet Washington still
refuses to countenance any status-quo outcome.
Nobody claims the air campaign
will have a decisive result by itself. It is, however, making a difference. The
Iraqi soldiers choosing to stay and fight now have the decisive support they so
desperately need. This makes a real and genuine contribution on the ground.
What’s occurring in the sky’s
over Iraq encompasses all the intimacy, complexity and violence normally
associated with war. There’s nothing antiseptic about the effect of the Australian
Air Task Group’s having. It’s precise and considered. Alone it will never be
enough to destroy ISIL. It is enough to make a big difference on the ground.
Nicholas Stuart is a freelance
journalist embedded with the Australian Forces in the Middle East. He has
written a number of books on Australian politics.
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