A Day With the Red Arrows
Taxiing in from 40 minutes at 6G
Today I was privileged to spend the day at RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire, home to several operational units but — most publicly — the RAF Aerobatic Team: The Red Arrows.
Running in to this event, I hadn’t thought too much about it. I, like many of my peers, have been watching the Red Arrows at airshows since I was a child, and with the development of my own flying I’d somewhat let them slip from the mental pedestal on which my childhood self had placed them. Well, today turned out to be more meaningful and interesting than I could ever have anticipated.
Like most people who have never flown in a fighter jet, I will always be jealous of those who have and do on a regular basis. I knew I’d be jealous of the flying. What I hadn’t given much thought to before today — surprisingly now I think about it — was the manner in which the Reds go about their trade.
We arrived at RAF Scampton and I’ll be honest: it doesn’t look like any maintenance personnel have touched it since the 1950’s. Inside the Reds’ hangar, however, the walls are lined with photographs, signed plaques and gifts from other teams, photograph after photograph of those who went before the current 2015 pilots…the place is seeping with heritage and this formidable history goes to impress on me that what this team represents is a British institution. The Red Arrows is bigger than any single pilot or display leader.
All those years of experience — 51 and counting — are evident in the briefing room. The pilots have red seats at the front (each pilot sits in his designated spot) and the pre-briefing is like nothing I have witnessed nor experienced before. Quiet, authoritative voices led by the Boss seem to criss-cross the room with almost tangible force. No notes are taken, the information seems simply to be absorbed by each pilot. Challenges are thrown up, sometimes by the Boss (the visibility is poor and the cloud base is low — what is 4 going to do if he finds himself on the outside of the turn going into IMC?) and occasionally a senior pilot is asked to throw up an emergency scenario for one of the new-joiners. 4 challenges 2 that coming out of the Helix he ingests a bird. 2 confirms his actions but before he’s finished, 4 is taking it further — the engine has rolled back and won’t relight. Everything from radio calls to jet handling and possible options are discussed, first by Red 2 and then the rest of the team chip in with suggestions. The whole thing unfolds in real-time and it is — from an airline pilot’s point of view — both refreshing and impressive to see such attention to detail and concentration on safety. But then at 350kts and 300ft, there isn’t much margin for error.
After what seems like no time at all the pilots have synchronised watches and left the briefing room, and then the jets are spooling up. We observers are then witness to the five jets of ‘Enid’ formation (think Famous Five) practising several manoeuvres of the 2015 display over about 40 minutes. The flying is — to me at least — superbly impressive. As the jets taxi in, we are allowed over to have our photograph taken with the ‘Five in full Top Gun dress, standing relaxed around their aircraft.
Back inside, it is time for the debriefing. This for me is the highlight of the day… As a pilot with experience in international aerobatic competition, I have at least a little appreciation for how thorough and exacting one must be to succeed in flying at the top level. In the display world, it has always surprised me how ‘sloppy’ many of the manoeuvres are — 45° up-lines not at 45°, vertical down-lines turning into giant ‘banana’ curves and so on. The difference of course is that in a display, the crowd are not judging the precision of your flying — it is the thrill and the spectacle that matter.
Here at Scampton however, the buzz-word appears to be ‘perfection’. First the Boss kicks off with a summary of the trip with an overview of what went well, any safety considerations that came up and anything which occurred that they had failed to consider before-hand — as well as how they can improve the operation next time. Then the pilots have their say. Without exception, each chips in with several mistakes they made, errors and oversights. Once they have finished berating themselves (the flying looked damn impressive to me!) it is time for the video de-brief. Every flight of every season is filmed. As the video runs, the boss fasts-forward and pauses at the appropriate manoeuvres. As he does so, every pilot calls out his own mistakes and errors — the jargon is specific and takes some explaining…
…Each pilot in the formation is flying by reference to the Boss — Red One. A pilot holds station by fixing the perfect reference points on the lead Jet at the correct angle in his canopy. For example, Red Two might line up so as to be looking straight down the swept-back leading edge of Red One’s starboard wing, with One’s tailpipe intersecting a particular bolt in the canopy frame. It is effectively 400mph geometry. If a jet is at the correct angle but too close to the Boss, he is said to be ‘Up It’; too far and he is ‘Down It’. If he is too low, he is ‘Deep’ and consequently ‘Shallow’ when too high relative to the Boss.
One of the unique traits of the Red Arrows is the size of the formation: nine jets in total. With that many aircraft all formating on the leader, the jets at the edges (for example, Red 4 on the far right of the Diamond Nine) must anticipate a turn. As the leader calls ‘Turning Left Now” the out-board aircraft must start to turn mid-way through the word ‘left’ — otherwise they will be too late and the formation will appear to ‘wobble’ as the jets at the edges are constantly playing catch-up. Ideally, when viewed from head-on the formation should appear to roll as one solid object.
To witness the intensity of the pilots’ focus, and their perfectionism, was stunning. The energy of the pre-brief was back in abundance — it was as if they were studying the video with the same level of concentration used while actually flying. Faults in position were called to the inch — mistakes pointed out, suggestions offered, options for improvement discussed. At the same time, where the flying went well the Boss gave praise. Not in a patronising manner though; the whole atmosphere is one of mutual respect between pilots at the absolute top of their profession. No names are used — each pilot is referred to by his Number, with the intention that criticism is aimed at a number in the formation and personalities are kept out of it. That way everyone can criticise openly and nobody feels attacked.
Official de-brief over, the pilots are allowed a more informal discussion amongst themselves. Minutes later however, their role as the PR front of the RAF is in full swing and they are chatting openly to us over lunch. This is an aspect of the job that I am most definitely not jealous of. In the middle of a hard day’s work, having just picked their own performances apart, they must stand around and chat to complete strangers, answering the inevitable barrage of questions. You can see why the selection process is so exacting — any shred of negativity would soon be picked up on here. The Reds are almost frighteningly un-assuming. The self-confidence is there, yes — their skills backed up by over 1500 fighter-jet hours which are a prerequisite for applying at all. But in what turned into quite a long chat with Red 2 and Red 4, there was not so much as a hint of arrogance between them. They were in fact perfect gentlemen, who clearly had great respect for their roles as representatives of the Royal Air Force, and Great Britain.
So where does this experience leave us? For me, meeting the Red Arrows was literally meeting my childhood heroes. I would have worshipped them as an 8-year-old boy. 18 years later and with nearly 3,000 flying hours of my own, I went to Scampton expecting the old adage of ‘never meet your hero’ to hold true. In honesty, I expected to find talented pilots who were a bit up themselves because they were military, which (obviously) means they’re the best. To my total surprise however, I found myself feeling strangely emotional. Because so much of who these men are is what I have always wanted to be.
I had not anticipated the openness; the willingness to admit failure. Nor had I anticipated the genuine focus and determination to constantly improve — the strive for perfection despite already being at the top of the pecking order. I had not considered the impact of the place, the sense of working towards a common goal — of being part of something historical, meaningful and important. Not only that, I couldn’t help but compare the atmosphere with that of my own background — a low-cost airline. The cut-throat commercial world where you finish your training and are largely left to manage your own development — 4 training days a year…just bring in the money and enjoy your life. The emphasis on keeping down costs instead of continually improving your skills.
No…the differences were plain to see. I had known I would be jealous of the flying. I had not known I would find myself jealous of the structure and standards to which these men and women fly. I felt emotional because I recognised that choices I made now mean I will never be a part of an organisation like this. It was envy, awe and respect — both professional and personal.
I drove away from Scampton with my head spinning. Meeting the Red Arrows was so much more than I had anticipated: it was inspiring. I may not ever fly in a red Hawk, but I can bring some of what I saw at Scampton into my own day-to-day flying. I resolved to set myself the same standards, approach my flying with the same sense of purpose, and in so doing I will know that I am being the best pilot I can be; striving for perfection — even if I never get there.
Jack Newman is the Commercial Editor with Get Into Flying
