Falklands' Most Daring Raid - TV review
Something just didn't feel right. How, as we approach the politically sensitive 30th anniversary of the Falklands war, could a fact-based programme about one of its game-changing air missions be described in the pre-amble as 'humorous'?
Something just didn't feel right. How, as we approach the politically sensitive 30th anniversary of the Falklands war, could a fact-based programme about one of its game-changing air missions be described in the pre-amble as 'humorous'?
It was on April 30, 1982, that the RAF patched up a creaking old 40-year-old Vulcan bomber, and sent it off to bomb Port Stanley's runway, hoping to put it out of action for Argentinian fighter jets.
The safety of the British task force, it emerged, depended on the success of this solitary plane – even though it was just weeks from being declared obsolete; about to be scrapped.
And therein lies the rather dark humour. You can't help but smile at the daring of this unlikely triumph, masterminded on the back of the proverbial fag packet, which played a key role in helping to win the war.
Nor can you stifle a disbelieving giggle at the way, just days before take-off, the MoD was scavenging crucial spare parts for the Vulcan from museums and scrap yards – even liberating one vital component from an officers' mess, where it was being used as an ashtray!
"Monty Python couldn't have done it any better," chuckled Squadron Leader John Reeve, recalling the 16,000-mile round trip mission.
He was right. For this was a tale of very British bulldog spirit; a bizarre mix of ingenuity and eccentricity which reminds us why our armed forces remain the greatest on the planet.
To give the story a modern footballing analogy, bringing back the Vulcan was akin to hapless Wolverhampton Wanderers deciding to call the legendary Steve Bull back into action, at the age of nearly 47, in a desperate last-ditch bid to stave off Premiership relegation.
This was a gripping story, well told through compelling first-hand accounts of the long-range heroics. Some of the characters involved had a blinkered will to succeed. Others harboured secret doubts. All, though, showed amazing clarity of thought in the face of unthinkable pressure.
In just three weeks, the Vulcan crews had to learn air-to-air refuelling, which they hadn't done for 20 years, and conventional bombing, which they hadn't done for 10 years either. And write their wills.
The atmospheric recreation of the mission itself made for astounding viewing. Eleven planes accompanied the single Vulcan to keep the bomb carrier topped up on its final take-off from Ascension Island – a trip which was plagued by problems.
Communication systems were up the Swanny, they had no maps of the southern hemisphere, and when it emerged they had miscalculated how much fuel would be needed, and may not make it, the men had to decide whether to put the mission before their own safety. The decision was never in doubt.
In terms of triumph in the face of unthinkable adversity, it's right up there with the Apollo 13 mission. And yet, unlike that American space saga, few people know anything about it.
The Vulcan did make it to Port Stanley, and back home by the skin of its teeth.
Of the 21 bombs it dropped, only one found its target. But it was enough to change the outcome of the war. Astonishingly, this great airborne feat has been downplayed into near obscurity by history, but this documentary brought it all vividly back to life, providing a thrilling and uncharacteristically upbeat account from the Falklands War.
This was the longest bombing raid in military history: the Dambusters for the 1980s generation.
