Through the looking glass
Flt Lt Helen Davies takes a behind the scene look at how the RAF Typhoon jets, deployed to Lithuania, support troops on the ground
There are thousands of military personnel supporting NATO exercises and missions around the world.
Some of us have recently landed in Lithuania. Myself included.
Despite being in the Royal Air Force, I wear the same colour ‘combat’ uniform as the army…people ask me if I am in the army, I try to gently smile and say no, I am in the RAF.
They then ask if I am a pilot. I then smile again and explain I work in communications and media… I see their eyes glaze over.
In this blog, I attempt to show how media people in the military work to push the boundaries of their own working lines to show things from the inside.
Although, funnily enough, even when you are on the ‘inside’ there are still even more doors to look behind.
Helen, goes behind the looking glass.
To be part of UK Armed Forces is not a normal life you take risks some people wouldn't take and then you can have experiences and go to places that some people would pay money for…
Seizing an opportunity to go and see how the air force pilots support the ground troops from a different point of view is where I start my journey through the glass.
I'm a little nervous because what do I know? I certainly have no inclination to get in the way of these people who are about to exercise skills that will guide aircraft munitions onto targets, in case of one day needing to do it in real life.
And well, what will they think to some random air force person turning up asking to nose around in their business.
A flying programme notification, some emails to colleagues, a punt at an idea, some WhatsApp here, a call there, a long drive into the country and we arrive at a wooded area. Following a car to the rundown control tower, my adrenaline is rising…what if I say the wrong thing, and they have no interest in letting us through the glass.
I remember thinking to myself whatever, I'm here to do my job, to try something new and that's what ill do.
Some minutes pass, guys in kit wandering in and out of the building, a few moments of that strange energy in the air, perhaps sizing up what is going on in front of them… and I take a breath and introduce myself and my team and say;
I'm here to see how you do your thing, I'm not interested in the jets — I see them every day.
Despite being on the inside, I find myself stepping into another zone, another variation of the inside that our general public and the rest of us, so rarely see.
A strange form of calm was encapsulating the jeep as I hopped into to travel with the army guys. Slightly dirty and packed with all sorts of gadgets and bags and radio receivers.
I noticed the windows of the jeep had numbers and scribbles across them, at the edges of the glass. The two men were using it to note the coordinates their opposite team were relaying from the pilot.
So obvious, why not write it on the screen in front of your seat…
Three or four, maybe more, or maybe even just two radios were streaming different voices at once.
One operator gracefully takes the information in and nods. Then checks-in for a few words to his mate, who checks a few things on his tiny computer TV screen and silently agrees on the next action.
It's like watching skilled chefs in the kitchen, dancing a routine they have known for years.
Amongst this melee, I realised I’m fascinated. Smiling inwardly.
Something endearing about seeing someone deliver their craft, to execute their skill. I watched, in this case, from the back seat of the jeep.
I leaned in, stretched around, stood on the seat and grabbed some shots with my phone.
All the while my team photographer was in the midst of his own construction, of the same scenario, only across the ranges with the other team.
Hearing the jet swirl around, above the clouds and hearing the familiar voice of the pilot I know from our base, was some sort of breaking the fourth wall experience.
I thought briefly of a long-distance relationship.
All the talking and building of trust, knowing they will achieve their same goal, not doubting their words, believing in each other and their respective skills — despite never having met.
It felt like a mild intrusion — witnessing this spin.
A bond between operators in the sky and on the ground.
Although in honesty, they kept me updated, talked me through their processes, how it was going for them, what was working and what to expect.
It felt like I trusted them. Even though it was an exercise scenario.
It was real. The jet was flying, the conversations were real, the procedures executed as real. I felt, suddenly like the system worked and made sense.
Our operators are passionate, honest, funny and skilful people who chose a job they love and just want to do it to the best of their ability.
The doorway through the looking glass isn’t always available to us all.
The real reasons of why we do what we do and how we go about it, behind the bluster of recently procured equipment or paperwork we may have to wade through, the tribalism that creates divides, the news that can make us seem untouchable.
Its only one point of view on something, and I have my own filters of course.
But a snapshot from beyond the glossy magazine sometimes is enough to show that we are all human, somehow, despite the colour of our flag or uniform.
