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Red Arrows Welcome the Russian Knights at Scampton 1991
An edited extract from "Red Arrows - the Inside Story" by Tony Cunnane
published by
Woodfield Publishing in 2001
‘Russian fighter pilots do not fly in transport
aircraft’, said General Antoshkin to the assembled VIPs and mediaI
‘Hope to see you in Scampton,’ had been the cry as we said
farewell to the Soviet pilots at Borispol in the Ukraine in June 1990 when the
Red Arrows started home after their highly successful six day tour of Leningrad,
Kiev and Budapest. It was the sort of thing you often say on leaving new-found
friends even when you do not expect it to happen. But in this case it did happen
- just fifteen months later. The ‘Russian Knights’, now flying the mighty
Sukhoi-27 fighter bombers known to NATO as Flanker, did come to Scampton.
In Russian folklore a young warrior famous for his strength and his ability to
defend his Motherland was called a Veetyaz, roughly equivalent to an
English Knight. Hence the name for the Team, Russkiye Veetyaze, The
Russian Knights. But was it a Russian Aerobatic Team or a Soviet Aerobatic Team?
So much had been happening on the international stage, especially in the three
short eventful weeks before the scheduled start of the visit, that we were by no
means sure. The Soviet Union was rapidly disintegrating and the entire world was
watching with bated breath. However, no-one at Scampton really cared about the
politics - all that mattered was that they were coming.
I was heavily involved in planning the station’s arrangements for the Russian
Knights’ visit. Knowing how fond the Russians are for ceremonies, I recommended
to our Command HQ that the Russians should be greeted with a formal arrival
ceremony to mark what would have been an historic occasion even without the
break up of the Soviet Union. My suggestion was greeted with not a little
scepticism and alarm. Long gone are the days when RAF stations used to have
regular parades, so long gone that most officers and airmen never parade again
after graduating from initial training schools. However, that was not the sort
of parade I wanted. I reckoned there should be a marching band and a saluting
base from which the leading players could make their speeches of welcome. I
wanted a formal line up of Red Arrows’ aircraft and pilots opposite the Soviets.
I wanted the pilots to walk across the tarmac from opposite sides of the
dispersal so that they could be photographed and filmed greeting each other
halfway. I wanted lots of media on hand to record it all -and that's what I got.
18 September 1991 was a warm early
autumn morning but the visibility was rather poor – anticyclonic gloom the
meteorologists call it. The Red Arrows’ Hawks were drawn up in a line along one
side of the huge Echo Dispersal at RAF Scampton. The Red Arrows pilots stood
around in their red suits waiting expectantly. Our Commander-in-Chief, Air
Marshal Sir John Thomson (who died suddenly in July 1994 at the tragically early
age of 53), was there with all the usual hangers-on. The security and
intelligence men kept themselves to themselves trying, and failing, to look
inconspicuous. The forty odd professional musicians of the Band of the RAF
Regiment marched onto Echo Dispersal playing the official march of the Central
Flying School, ‘Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines’ followed by the
Dam Busters’ March. They took up their allotted position close to the dais,
resplendent in their ceremonial uniforms. Almost 100 members of the media were
on hand to record every historic second, while roads outside Scampton were
blocked with countless sightseers who filled every lay-by and vantage point for
miles around. Families and excited children lined the taxiways around the
dispersal. A Royal Visit would not have attracted more attention.
The first surprise was that the huge IL-76 transport aircraft carrying the
ground support personnel landed first. That was not part of the
plan! So I had already imparted wrong information to the BBC Radio Lincolnshire
listeners but at least Chris Jones, the reporter, and I had something new to
talk to the listeners about. As the aircraft moved slowly and cautiously past
the CFS HQ building and along the taxiway in front of the hangars, its wingtips
overlapping the taxiways at both sides, it was supposed to turn left and park at
the northern end of Echo Dispersal. That is exactly what the marshaller
indicated with his wands but, inexplicably, the Ilyushin turned to the right and
nosed in between numbers 1 and 2 hangars. It came to a rather abrupt halt,
rocking slightly on its enormous undercarriage, as the pilot suddenly realised
he had turned into a dead end. What is more, not only was there no way out,
there was insufficient gap between the ends of the two hangars for his aircraft
so it was just as well he had stopped where he did.
‘Everyone knows that the Soviets turn towards the moving wand – exactly the
opposite of what we do,’ said someone in a loud voice.
A bit of a sweeping statement that! We learned afterwards that he was wrong
anyway. Why is there always a know-all on such occasions? What possesses some
people to swear blind that something is so when they know full well they have
just made it up?
‘I wonder if he has reverse thrust so that he can taxi backwards like the
Hercules?’ someone else asked of no-one in particular, but no-one volunteered an
answer.
After a few minutes, when you could almost see the ‘thinks bubbles’ emerging
from the cockpit of the aircraft, the engines wound down and a curious silence
descended on the airfield. Everyone standing around realised that the Ilyushin
had turned the wrong way but, still broadcasting live on BBC Radio Lincolnshire,
I merely informed the listeners that the Russian transport aircraft was now in
position. There seemed no point in causing embarrassment for our visitors. A few
minutes later a Russian officer, who turned out to be an air traffic controller,
descended from the aircraft and was met by one of the RAF Russian interpreters.
They had no interest in sorting out what was to be done about extricating the
Ilyushin from its spot. They drove off to Air Traffic Control in some haste,
presumably leaving the aircrew to ponder their future careers. Fifteen-love to
the RAF.
I was assured by someone that the Sukhois were almost at Scampton so Chris Jones
and I continued our live chat peering continuously towards the north east. We
had by then been broadcasting on and off for almost an hour and I had used up
all the pearls of wisdom I had prepared. Time passed and still no news. Even
Chris Jones ran out of things to say and so he temporarily handed back to the
studio for a musical interlude. Eventually word reached me that the Soviets were
thought to be approaching the east coast close to Spurn Point, not far north
east of Scampton, and we were quickly back live on air.
‘The Russian Knights will be with us very shortly,’ I said confidently on the
radio. ‘The RAF air defence radar has them on screen descending near to
Cleethorpes. Four F3 Tornados from RAF Coningsby flew halfway across the North
Sea to the United Kingdom boundary to meet our visitors and they are providing
an escort. At the speed they are travelling they will be with us, overhead
Scampton, in two or three minutes.’
It was more like six minutes before the six gleaming red, white and blue Sukhoi
Su-27s of the Russian Knights appeared through the autumnal gloom overhead
Scampton, flying in a very tight formation. The four Tornado F3s from Coningsby
had split themselves, two onto either flank of the Sukhois, in traditional
escort formation. The Sukhois performed a very low, very slow, and very tight
orbit over Scampton airfield. This was obviously one-upmanship on their part
because they were able to manoeuvre more slowly than the Tornados in the tight
turn. The two Tornados at the bottom of this impromptu flypast were barely 100
feet above the ground and, as the airspeed reduced perilously close to their
stalling speed, the Tornados were forced to break formation and accelerate away
to a more sensible speed and height. To the non-experts on the airfield it all
looked very exciting; to the experts it was both shambolic and embarrassing -
which is, presumably, exactly what the Russians intended. However, with the
possible exception of the Tornado crews, we all thought this was a brilliantly
cheeky move on the Russian Knights’ part. Fifteen all!
We learned afterwards that the arrival over Scampton was late because the
Russians had deliberately ignored air traffic control instructions and hand
signals from the Tornados. Just as the Red Arrows had conveniently failed to
correctly interpret Air Traffic Control instructions on the approach to
Leningrad 15 months earlier, the Russians were now playing a similar game. They
had obviously planned in advance to deviate from the approved route in order to
make a low flypast directly over the Tornado base at Coningsby. There had been
confusion and alarm at Coningsby when, a for a short while, controllers thought
the Sukhois were intending to land there. However, having made a spectacular low
flypast, the Russians lit up their afterburners and obediently joined up with
their escorts again and continued towards Scampton. Thirty-fifteen to the
Russians!
The SU-27s taxied into their positions facing the Hawks and their pilots
disembarked. The Russian pilots stood rigidly to attention by their aircraft
facing the Red Arrows pilots. Lieutenant General Nikolai Timofeyevich Antoshkin,
Commander of the Air Force of the Moscow Military District climbed nimbly down
from the single seat of the leading SU-27 and greeted our Commander-in-Chief
warmly.
‘Russian fighter pilots do not fly in transport aircraft’, said the General
Antoshkin to the assembled VIPs and media. Our Air Marshal had arrived at
Leningrad as a passenger in a rather elderly transport aircraft. Forty-fifteen
to the Russians!
Air Marshal Sir John Thomson escorted General Antoshkin and politely motioned
him to mount the dais first. The Bandmaster raised his baton, the musicians
moistened their lips, ready to play the traditional RAF General Salute as soon
as I gave the signal. General Antoshkin, with his own interpreter close by his
shoulder, had other plans. He moved quickly and purposefully towards the
microphone, while Air Marshal Thomson, his aides and his interpreter were still
getting themselves into position. The Russian General launched straight into his
welcoming speech, his voice booming out over Echo dispersal. I gave a
surreptitious signal to the Bandmaster and the band quietly stood at ease. Talk
about one-upmanship. Game to the Russians.
‘We were not sure we would be welcome,’ continued the General in what must have
been the understatement of the year. He spoke in short sentences and waited so
that his personal interpreter could translate each one. Spontaneous applause
from all sides greeted each remark and the General beamed appreciatively. ‘You
will note that we have replaced all the Soviet symbols on our uniforms and on
our aircraft with Russian symbols.’
I must admit I had not noticed and I doubt if many others had. The photographers
took the hint, pointed their cameras at the Russian aircraft and started
clicking away. One furtive looking guy dressed in an old anorak, really and
truly, sidled up to me and half pulled a small 35mm camera out of a bag.
‘I’m from you-know-where - I’m just going to try and get a few cockpit shots
while everyone is meeting and greeting. OK?
He might as well have had ‘Spy’ tattooed on his forehead. I shrugged my
shoulders.
‘Be my guest,’ I said to him in a non-committal way. I pointed towards one of
the Sukhois. ‘One of the aviation magazine photographers has beaten you to it
anyway - he's already in the front seat of a Sukhoi with his camera..’
The ‘spy’ looked worried and dashed off towards another aircraft.Back to the top |