The end of an era

The final landing of the RAF Puma Force

So there it was, gone.

The end of the longest encore you’ll ever hear – 3.5 bonus years of the sound of occupation echoing around disparate parts of the globe. I’m no longer a Puma pilot, or the Puma Flight Commander – now I really am what I always joke about being: an anachronism; a cautionary tale, a relic.

But God I wouldn’t change it for anything. My children have literally grown up around this aircraft and these people – they were there when they were babies, and they were there on Thursday night to hug me when the tears came after landing for the final time. We finished the final RAF Puma flight exactly as I had envisaged it – slap over the squadron hangars, straight into dispersal and into the arms of our friends and family. There were a lot of very strong emotions for all of us over the last 2 days of that final flypast, a lot of tears and some pretty choked radio calls as the depth of respect for my professional family was demonstrated through the huge shows of support at the various places we visited.

Hitting 40 time-on-targets in 2 days in the face of external interference, some poor weather and (minor) aircraft serviceability challenges was a fantastic achievement but something that was never in doubt – there was never any need to emphasise that we knew everything would be done safely, professionally and excellently because that is a given for this community of operators.

Leading this final flight with my best friend flying on my wing and 3 crews of the most professional aviators I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with was one of the highlights of my career and a massive privilege. It was a final opportunity to set out my stall of what I think leadership really looks like, both in the air and on the ground - I’ve heard a lot of inspirational speeches from senior people that include a version of “I know I don’t need to say this, but…” before going on to effectively give a pre-emptive bollocking for some perceived lack of professionalism or ethics that might get the senior individual in some sort of second-order trouble. The ability to just set some direction and trust the ability and professional competence of the aircrew and engineers to deliver regardless of the obstacles presented was one final chance to show the depth of love and respect that I have for this group. The moment that one aircraft didn’t start on the final leg there was never any doubt that we were going to be enforcing Top Gear Rules as briefed, just as there was never any doubt in my mind that they would always catch up. And there they were, right where we expected them to be, because that is what they do.

Bloody legends.

These photos are a tiny selection of those that I have, and a million more memories, many not even remotely related to flying – teeth marks in dry toast; land rovers stuck on gravel; daylight debriefs from night flying; R850 down the tube; AMF joins; Taji tower; horse-back safaris; flooded hammocks; pulling pole; an ND nearly killing TJB. So many other acronyms and in-jokes and memories and isn’t this just what makes us a family? You can’t choose your family, you’re stuck together regardless but they’re always there when you need them – the Puma Force has always been there for me, and I’ve always tried to do my part.

Writing this a few weeks after the events, it feels slightly surreal and a bit unmooring – “my” guys have already moved on to other jobs and some even to other places, leaving me with that hollow ache that doesn’t ever go away but just eases over time. There is enough else to do to fill the time – teaching the next generation of Qualified Warfare Instructors; helping some of our Chinook brethren with instructor upgrades; investing more time in coaching and mentoring again; leaning back into all the other elements of my portfolio that I’ve had to put on the back burner since October. But it isn’t quite the same, and I wouldn’t want it to be – I’m not looking for a replacement or for something to ease the pain because that might dull the memories, and that is something that I do not want to do.

For now, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has enabled me to do the job that I wanted to do as a 7 year-old, and to do it for 2 decades. Thank you all, for the last 21 years, for letting me do what I love for so long – I’ll miss you so much, but I don’t mind the tears. They mean that you’re losing something that you love, and that’s never something to hide.

For the last time:

“WARLOCK, all Pumas shut down complete. See ya!”