Unique in being the only V/STOL jet fighter currently in service, the Harrier really is a most remarkable flying machine. So when Mike 'Jenx' Jenkins, the OC of 20 Squadron (the Royal Air Force Harrier Operational Conversion Unit) suggested that perhaps he and I could go flying one day, I had to think about it.... for about a fraction of a millisecond.

I arrived at RAF Wittering bright and early on a rather cloudy July morning. My first port of call was Jenx's office where I was given a brief overview of the planned flight before moving on to the 20 Squadron crew room. Here I listened to the briefing for a three-ship formation that Jenx and I would rendezvous with while they refuelled from an RAF Tristar over the North Sea. One facet of the briefing that really appealed to me was the 'emergency of the day'. Essentially, the officer giving the briefing detailed a specific system malfunction and then asked one of the assembled pilots to describe the correct procedure to deal with it.

From the crew room we went to the briefing room. Every sortie by an RAF aircraft is meticulously planned, right down to the actual time when we would walk to the jet. I was extremely impressed by the amount of pre-flight planning that our flight involved. A comprehensive briefing on the ejection seat was next, followed by a briefing on the cockpit and Head-Up Display (HUD). Then it was off to the equipment section to be fitted with a 'bone dome', followed by a flight medical, before returning to the equipment section to collect the rest of my flying kit. Finally, it was time to walk out to our waiting Harrier.

Our jet for the flight was ZH663, the eleventh of the 13 T.10s delivered to the RAF, and as Jenx and I walked towards it, two things struck me firstly how big and heavy it looked, and secondly, how tiny the wing was! Having climbed up the steps to the rear cockpit (which really is quite a long way off the ground) I settled myself onto the Martin-Baker Mk.12 ejection seat and began the process of strapping myself in. First, I clipped my personal equipment connector into its socket, checked that my leg restraints were correctly secured and then tightened up my straps before settling my oxygen mask over my face. When strapping into a fast jet you become an integral part of the aircraft except for your arms, legs and head, you can't move.

A quick check with Jenx over the intercom that I was ready to roll and I clicked the clear visor into place before lowering and locking my canopy, then removed the safety pin for the canopy's miniature detonating cord. One last task with my right hand I gingerly pulled back a yellow and black striped handle until the word 'Armed' appeared. I was now sitting on a live rocket.

The master annunciator panel by my right knee suddenly illuminated as our Harrier came to life and the big Rolls-Royce Pegasus quickly spooled up with a muted whine. As soon as I'd shut the canopy the cockpit temperature had started to rise, so I was grateful that the forced air came on line soon after engine start. While Jenx continued with his post-start checks, I began to familiarise myself with the cockpit and instrument panel. The panel is dominated by two large multi-function displays, while two long side panels either side of the pilot carry the throttle and nozzle levers, undercarriage and flap levers, annunciator panels and a multitude of other switches and knobs. All the primary flight and engine information is displayed in the HUD, with the only analogue flight instruments being the stand-by attitude indicator, ASI, VSI and altimeter.

The post-start checks were soon completed and we were on our way to the runway in this case Wittering's short (1,100ft) south-facing strip. A few more checks of the engine, nozzles and associated systems, and we were ready to go. As the engine power increased, the Harrier squatted down like a sprinter on the blocks. There was a sudden jerk as Jenx released the brakes and we bounded forward. A second later and real acceleration pinned me back in the seat as the engine roared at full power and we raced down the strip with the airspeed building in the Head-Up Display at a gratifyingly fast rate. That said.... the end of the runway was fast approaching and the Harrier was still stuck to the ground as firmly as a 38-ton truck. With more than 100 different types in my logbook I would like to say that I really do have a reasonable feel for when an aircraft is getting ready to fly. Well, as the end of the strip raced towards us one thing was certain; the Harrier was showing not even the slightest interest in flying. At the last second, Jenx moved the nozzles to the pre-selected setting of 55 degrees and with a cross between a grunt and a roar, our jet lurched off the ground and into the air.

With such a tiny wing the wing loading is very high, for example, the maximum of 139.13lb/ft2 is more than ten times greater than a Cessna 152. Consequently the Harrier is definitely anaircraft that flies through the air, not upon it. In fact, purely wing-borne flight can only be achieved at speeds in excess of 170 knots! However, the acceleration was so phenomenal that within five seconds we had accelerated past this speed and with the wheels, outriggers and flaps all retracted, we punched up through the cloud. Jenx then passed control over to me as we continued climbing at 300 knots and 4,000/ft/min.

Jenx had explained the various numbers and symbols in the HUD during the briefing, so I settled my hands and feet lightly on the controls and began following the course deviation indicator to our first waypoint. My initial impressions were two-fold: irresistible momentum and incredible power.

As I continued to scan the HUD and then the panel, I glanced at the fuel totaliser.... Wow! Down to 6,200lb already! When the engine had started the Harrier had been carrying 7,200lb of fuel, which is the maximum amount it can carry in its internal tanks. Therefore the start, taxi, take-off and initial climb had already consumed 1,000lb of Avtur, at a rate of about 200lb/min!

Our first waypoint was the Holbeach air-to-ground weapons range in the Wash for a simulated weapons release. After racing through the range we set off for the rendezvous with the tanker about 100nm out to sea. Once Jenx spotted it, he resumed control, and we were soon holding a steady formation just off the Lockheed Tristar's starboard wing, watching the three single-seat Harrier GR.7s refuelling from the tanker. Sitting up there at 24,000 feet with a giant wide-bodied airliner seemingly suspended in space off of our port wing was definitely one of the most surreal sights of my flying career. The three small, dark Harriers almost resembled pilot fish swimming along in the wake of the great white whale of a Tristar. In fact the whole situation had a distinctly 'unreal' air about it. I suppose that most people never get the chance to see such a large aircraft up-close while in-flight (at least, let's hope not!) I guess you'll just have to take my word for it it really was an amazing sight.

Watching the fuel-hungry Harriers nuzzling up to the big Lockheed reminded me to re-check our own fuel this time I was pleasantly surprised to note that now we were at altitude, fuel consumption had dropped markedly, to less than 50lb/min. However, as we were wholly reliant on our internal fuel (Jenx had chosen to fly the sortie without external tanks, and the T.10 is not fitted with a refuelling probe), it was soon time to break away from the formation and head back inland.

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