Now a Motion Picture – Entebbe on the Screen

Hijacking, Crisis, Rescue – the conventional reading of Flight 139 and the events at Entebbe follow a classic three act story structure that’s been adapted to the screen on numerous occasions.


When the Israelis executed Operation Thunderbolt to rescue hostages from Entebbe Airport in July 1976, Western audiences were ripe for a news story with a happy ending. The memory of Vietnam and Watergate were still fresh. Cinema audiences were treated to The Omen and Taxi Driver in June 1976, with Carrie and  A Star Is Born still to come. Joyous summer blockbusters like Star Wars were still a year away. About the only major Western film of 1976 that carried any real sense of optimism was Rocky, and even then, Apollo Creed beats him at the end.

Naturally, when Israel rescued its hostages from Entebbe, there was cause for these events to be adapted into a movie. Western audiences now had a story set against the backdrop `of Middle Eastern conflict, and through the Israelis feel like they too had won a battle against terrorism – even if it was just that once. Within six months of the Raid on Entebbe, the story was retold through three separate movie productions – including one directed by Irvin Kirshner.

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Kirshner, pictured here riding a Tauntaun.

That’s right. The guy who directed The Empire Strikes Back made a direct-to-television movie adaptation of the raid titled Raid on Entebbe, although it was screened theatrically in some countries. And he wasn’t alone in this endeavour – at the same time, director Martin Chomsky was at the helm of Victory at Entebbe, also being produced for the smallscreen.

All the while, an Israeli-backed adaptation of the story – Mivtsa Yonatan (Operation Jonathan) – was also being produced.

Victory at Entebbe screened first, airring on ABC television in the United States on 13 December 1976 – just 162 days after the events on which it was based. Raid on Entebbe followed on 9 January 1977, (although it had a theatrical release in Denmark on 26 December 1976), and Mivtsa Yonatan on 27 January 1977.

For a handful of reasons that I’ll explore, these three films have not aged well over the past 40 years. You can watch Kirshner’s Raid on Entebbe and the Israeli Miytsa Yonatan are both available to watch on YouTube. Victory at Entebbe is more elusive, but can be purchased from Amazon. Sadly, I did not have a chance to view it.

Raid on Entebbe

If there’s one thing to take away from Raid on Entebbe, it’s Yaphet Kotto as Idi Amin. It’s worthwhile watching on YouTube just to see his perfomance.


Don’t let the Bronson-heavy poster fool you

The movie follows a fairly linear profile of a hijacking movie, going through the motions of re-telling the story until it reaches Entebbe, when we meet Kotto’s Amin. He’s bizarre, bewildering, and terrifying – everything that you’d expect from reading about Amin in real life, and true to his action during the hostage crisis. Kotto’s Amin wanders through the terminal with a jovial candour, addressing the passengers as though they’re merely waiting on a delayed flight.

His tyrannical edge comes out occaisionally whilst speaking to the hostages, and in the negotiations between Israel and Amin (told with brief albeit accurate detail). Kotto’s role in this movie clearly has the most meat for an actor, as the remainder of the cast in Raid on Entebbe – including James Woods, Peter Finch, Charles Bronson, and Robert Loggia – are locked into playing their roles straight-faced and down the line.


Kotto’s Amin addressing the hostages. Yes, Amin really did address the hostages at Entebbe whilst wearing a cowboy at.

Watching Raid on Entebbe, you can appreciate that Irvin Kirshner was definitely under the pump to get this movie out, as there’s very little done to dress this movie up outside of Amin and the raid at the end. Surprisingly, this hastiness in movie-making has its advantages, with a script that feels like it was taken from newspaper articles and memoirs released in the raid’s immediate aftermath, making it feel reasonably true to the events. The hastiness also means the movie looks like it was shot in spare offices available to the production, and is otherwise lacklustre in presentation – the studio lighting is absent, the editing at a minimum, and the cinematography dull. A lot of scenes feel like they were done in only one take. Add in the video-transfer, and it’s not held up well since its release.

Raid on Entebbe is a broadly accurate summary of what happened over the first two-thirds of the film up until the raid itself. Shot with the assistance of the United States miltiary, planespotters will easily spot out what aircraft do and don’t belong during the finale. Not only that, the hasty film-making means there’s no depth in the detail and staging of how the raid was executed. The audio track is a mix of screaming, gunfire and overly dramatic score that sounds like a soundtrack for exacting a confession from a detained prisoner. The audience is left with a loud, dark, and incomprehensible mess of a raid.

Worth Watching? For Yaphet Kotto, definitely. For a dramatisation of the hijacking and hostage crisis, yes. For the raid itself, watch a documentary or Mivtsa Yonatan.

Victory at Entebbe

This is the harder movie to review, considering I haven’t seen it.

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What I can say from looking at excepts of the movie online is:

As much as I want to feel like a completist in these reviews, I don’t know if I could bring myself to pay the $30 to get a copy of this on DVD.

Worth Watching? If I had $30 to spend at Amazon, I could still probably find other things I’d rather spend my money on – it just doesn’t look that good. If it was in a $10 bin, I’d consider it.

Mivtsa Yonatan

With Israeli Government backing, there’s not many places you can go wrong with accurately recreating the raid. To its credit, Mivtsa Yonatan is probably the strongest of the three Entebbe films. The movie’s poster alone is perhaps the most literal in its metaphors.


There’s good use of real locations (except for Entebbe itself, of course), and all of the military hardware is true to what was used during the raid. I don’t know if the Mercedes Limousine featured in this film is the same one used during the raid, but several of the C-130 Hercules transports featured in Mivtsa Yonatan are.


Accuracy doesn’t get much more…accurate.

Mivtsa Yonatan also looks much better than the other two films, shot on film instead of video, even going to the effort of lighting the night-time scenes properly so the viewer can understand what’s going on (as opposed to the ‘filmed in a cupboard’ appearance of Raid on Entebbe). The cast lacks any big-name actors, meaning they can get down to the task of re-telling the story in the Hebrew, English, Arabic and German. All of this means that when Mivtsa Yonatan reaches the rescue mission, everything is pretty coherent and accurate.

So, what’s not to like?

Well, the cast doesn’t really give much by way of stand out performances, and the Israeli backing does give you a very one-sided view of events. A handful of scenes depicting Arab military units are hilariously politically incorrect in a funny way. Apparently, they all get around in the same pattern of shemagh, and wear their sunglasses indoors.

And it does have some errors in accuracy – that’s definitely the interior of a single-aisle Boeing 707 substituting for a widebody Airbus A300. Why does that matter? Imagine a single-deck bus playing the role of a double-decker.

And the disco-era soundtrack in Mivtsa Yonatan has aged terribly. It’s bad enough when it’s playing over scenes of passengers boarding their Air France Flight. But when the Israeli Special Forces team rescue the hostages, you’ll be on your seat – not from suspense, but because the music is so jive.

Worth Watching? Actually yeah, for the combination of accuracy and to see 1970s Israeli film-making than anything else. Just don’t expect a terribly balanced view.

The Others

Entebbe has found its way onto the screen a number of times as part of a broader story.  In 1981’s The Rise and Fall of Idi Amin, the Raid is featured as part of a montage where Amin is in bed with his mistresses (NSFW). I am legitimately not kidding.

Less salacious is 2006’s Last King of Scotland, which recounts a relationship between Amin and a fictional Scottish doctor (played by Forrest Whitakker and James McAvoy respectively), where the doctor uses the release of non-Israeli hostages at Entebbe as his means of escaping Uganda.


Not for the faint-hearted.

There’s a host of documentaries about Entebbe, too, ranging from segments on hijacking and air safety serials through to feature-length stories that speak to the survivors of Entebbe and their relatives. After 40 years, there’s a fairly wide depth in our understanding of what happened during that week in 1976.



Cohen on the Bridge – a documentary told with 2D and 3D animated recreations – is on my to-find/to-watch list. 

The Untold Story

Adapting the Entebbe story is a natural fit for the screen, as these stories have shown. At the risk of trivialising the events of Entebbe as entertainment, there’s still dimensions to this story that we haven’t seen. The background of the hijackers – not to mention the insight into Amin’s motivations – are all lacking from most adaptations and documentaries. I don’t believe they should be lionised, however I do think there’s an interesting story to be told.

The week in Entebbe illustrated some nuanced motivations and complicated relationships that would do well in a film. The German hijackers were desperate not to be seen as Nazis, and several hostages had survived the Holocaust. Most adaptations conclude with a ‘happily ever after’ as the raid returns to Israel, but there was still more tragedy and death to come in the days following the raid, with further reprisals in Uganda and Kenya in the months and years to follow. The story of the Entebbe Raid did not end with hostages walking off of C-130s at Ben-Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv.

The best compromise for a movie adaptation might be to mash-up the best elements of the existing films and documentaries, combining the Israeli military hardware used in Miytsa Yonatan with some of the performances from Raid on Entebbe, with documentary interview asides. Audiences can expect yet another film about Entebbe in the near future.


Saul David’s written recount ohas been optioned by Working Title/Canal Studio for film adaptation, and has reportedly cast several roles. If the book is anything to go by – and I’ll review it in the next Entebbe Post – then it’s likely the film will tell much the same story of the existing movie adaptations, albeit with some fresh information. The benefit of making such a film 40 years after the fact is that the source material for has become considerably better. There’s still a risk in achieving accuracy, given this is now a period film, not to mention the artistic licencing being for the 21st Century audience – for example, a number of Israeli Special Forces in the assault wore blackface so as to confuse the Ugandans.

We’ve also got a different take on the issue of the Israeli/Palestinian relationship and Middle Eastern conflict, much less airline safety, power projection, and the sovereign rights of territory. Western cinema tends to treat terrorism with little-to-no nuance or depth, although there are noted exceptions (2005’s Syriana, for a start; 2008’s The Baader Meinhof Complex too, dealing with West German left-wing factions). As an audience, are we ready to see the Entebbe story told again?

We’ll find out in around 2018.

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The Entebbe Raid at 40

This week marks the 40th anniversary of the Raid on Entebbe, when Israel mounted a rescue mission to Uganda with four C-130 Hercules transports, helping to free more than 100 hostages.


The audacity and success of this rescue was unmatched in its time, and since then has been imitated but never surpassed. Over the course of this week, I’ll be writing about these events including how the Israelis came to be able to execute the raid, and coverage of the raid on paper and on the screen.

The events that led to the raid began on 27 June 1976, when Air France Flight 139 – an Airbus A300 carrying 248 passengers and 12 crew – was travelling from Tel Aviv to Paris via a stopover in Athens. Shortly after its departure from Athens, two German and two Palestinian hijackers took over the aircraft, re-directing the crew to fly to Libya.


An Air France A300 airliner as it would have appeared in 1976.

When the hijacking of Flight 139 occurred, there was seemingly little to differentiate it from those that preceded it (or indeed, several that followed after). The hijackers demanded the release of prisoners from Israel and a number of European countries. Having landed in Libya, the aircraft was refueled, a hostage was released (she had feigned a miscarriage), and the aircraft took off – this time, heading for Entebbe Airport, located on the shores of Lake Victoria in Uganda.

Entebbe is where the hijacking of Flight 139 begins to differentiate itself. Several previous hijackings led the aircraft to be flown to Middle East or Mediterranean states, resulting in extended and successful negotiations, or rescue raids against the aircraft. During a hijacking of a Sabena airliner in May 1972 by the Black September terrorist organization, the aircraft was flown to Tel Aviv, allowing Israel was able to mount a successful rescue of the hostages. Four years later, the hijackers of Flight 139 transported their hostages well outside of the West’s sphere of influence – much less the reach of Israel – in a well-calculated move.

Late on June 27, the Airbus touched down at Entebbe Airport, and the hostages were herded into the Airport’s Old Terminal building, where four more Palestinians joined the hijackers. Soon after, a new partner in the crisis arrived. To use his full title His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular’ toured the hostages at the Entebbe with his entourage and cameras. Initially, Idi Amin presented himself as just as much the victim of the hijacking’s circumstance as the passengers, pleading for the West (and Israel in particular) to meet the demands for their release, and bring the crisis to a peaceful conclusion.


Idi Amin, ruler of Uganda 1971-79.

Amin had once been close to Israel, trained with their military and embracing them when he came to power in a military coup in 1971. The following year however, the Israelis were expelled from Uganda. When the Air France A300 arrived in his country in 1976, Amin had seemingly embraced the hijacker’s cause, with his ego providing the motive. Through the crisis, Amin could present himself as a regional and global negotiator, and embarrass the West through its inability to act without him. In all conversations with the Israelis, Amin said he was helpless to act against the hijackers, despite it being clear that the crisis could not have without Amin being in some way complicit in the plan. He argued the only recourse for Israel would have to be to negotiate with him, making him a hero if all hostages were exchanged for prisoners peacefully. Much like the hijackers, Amin couldn’t conceivably think Israel would mount a rescue mission.

As the crisis played out, 148 hostages would be released to the West, leaving 107 – predominantly Jewish and Israeli passengers, along with the Air France crew – in the Entebbe Old Terminal building. There is a question that had the entire complement of hostages been retained, how Israel and the West would managed negotiations, let alone a rescue. A security perimeter of Ugandan troops had been established around the Old Terminal, also in a nearby Air Traffic Control tower. All the while, civilian airliners continued their scheduled flights through Entebbe around the clock.

Israel’s negotiations centred on Amin, rather than meeting the demands of the hijackers. This would ultimately feed information into their operational planning for a rescue mission. The initial Israeli response called for an Air Force Boeing 707 to be disguised as an Air France airliner, and seemingly conduct a handover of prisoners for hostages at Entebbe. The prisoners however would be a force of Sayeret Matkal (Israeli Special Forces) troops who would mount a rescue raid. Other plans involved the delivery of Sayeret Matkal troops into Lake Victoria, leaving them to swim ashore and mount a raid; and airdropping a force of about 1,000 paratroops into Entebbe, and taking over the airport.

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Entebbe Airport today. The Old Terminal is marked.

The rescue options were refined as the intelligence picture was grown, built on interviews with freed hostages, information from Israeli military leaders who knew Amin intimately (including through their negotiations with him by phone), pictures from spy flights by light aircraft flown out of Kenya, and the architectural designs of the airport. Construction of the Entebbe Old Terminal had been managed by Israeli firms who still owned the blueprints. Whilst the hijackers had believed flying the hostages to Idi Amin’s Uganda would make a rescue mission insurmountable, what they had really did was provide just the thinnest of threads for Israel to consider launching a raid.

By 2 July 1976, the Israelis had settled on a plan, and conducted mission rehearsals. At its heart would be four C-130 Hercules transport aircraft, whose availability to launch the mission came thanks in large part to the Arab-initiated 1973 Yom Kippur War. In 1970, Israel had identified a need to acquire the C-130 for its Air Force, but a leisurely acquisition pace meant only two were in service in 1973. The Yom Kippur War illustrated just how essential the C-130 was to Israel as a logistical link to the frontline, and soon more than two dozen were acquired. By 1976, the size of the fleet and their combat experience meant the Israeli Air Force – in particular, its C-130 squadrons – had the confidence and maturity to launch a rescue raid.


The crew of the lead C-130 used in the raid.

On 3 July 1976, the Israeli Government gave the go-ahead for a rescue raid, using four C-130s, joined by pair of Boeing 707s – one acting as a Command-and-Control (C2) aircraft, the other as an Aero-Medical Evacuation (AME) transport. The first Hercules landed at Entebbe shortly before midnight on July 3, and the assault was all over in 30 minutes. I’ll cover the detail of the raid in a following Post, but the four Hercules landed at Entebbe to deliver a force of Sayeret Matkal and Israeli Paratroopers. The hijackers were eliminated, a number of Ugandan troops killed, and a squadron of MiG fighters at Entebbe were destroyed. In return, four of hostages were killed during the assault and its wake, which also claimed the life of Lieutenant Colonel Yonatan Netanyahu, leading the raid on the ground.

The C-130s and the C2 Boeing 707 headed for Nairobi in Kenya, where they rendevouzed with the AME team on the Boeing 707 and also refueled their aircraft. As the rescue force returned to Israel at daybreak on July 4, a number of things had become apparent.

The way in which Israel had demonstrated the integration of Special Forces with air mobility platforms – coupled with airborne C2 and AME assets – wasn’t so much as ‘ahead of its time’ as it was pioneering. I’ll explore this theme in the next Post, but there’s little coincidence that both the United States and United Kingdom planned similar raids in the six years following Entebbe. For the German left-wing factions and Palestinians, they would use airline hijacking as a tool for negotiating the release of prisoners again in 1978.  Lufthansa Flight 181, bound from West Germany for Spain, was taken on an odyssey by the hijackers through Europe and the Middle East before it settled on Mogadishu, Somalia. While the hijackers seemingly hoped that they were beyond the reach of a German rescue effort, the Somali government permitted a German rescue team to launch a rescue mission that eliminated the hijackers.

For Amin, the events at Entebbe were an embarrassment, albeit one that saw him attempt to present the Israelis as the belligerents. In the weeks following the raid, several thousand Kenyans – living within Uganda or along the border – are believed to have been killed as a reprisal against Kenya’s complicit support to Israel. Whether you can place any guilt for their deaths at the feet of Israel is a good debate topic, however it is clear that Amin held little regard of the value of the lives of his own people, a fact that would see him deposed in 1979.


The Ugandan response to the raid.

After four decades, the Raid on Entebbe still retains some valued lessons in how governments can respond to emerging crises, what the considerations are, and what their consequences may be.

*Edits to this post will be made as required, and any corrections of fact are welcomed.

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Is there a seat at this table?


A letter from Australia to the European Union.

G’day Brussels,

We read in the news this week that you might soon find yourselves one country short. It sounds like a nasty business, Brexit, especially after all you’ve been through together. But from all accounts, Britain’s heart is not really in it any more, and they’re not even listening to common sense. Perhaps it’s best to let them call it quits.

In the meantime, we hope we’re not being too forward asking that if a spare seat at the EU table happens to become available, could Australia have a crack at it?

Yeah, we know what you’re thinking – what’s to gain from letting the Land Down Under join your club. You probably haven’t even heard that much from us since we had you over for the Olympics in 2000 (remember how great that was? Anyway). If any of you have been out our way, you’ll appreciate that we’re on the literal opposite side of the globe from you, which hardly makes us neighbours.

We’ll stick to the Southern Hemisphere, thanks. (SatireWire)

Well first of all, we’d like to remind you of our runner-up status in this year’s Eurovision. Remember when you rocked up there and thought “what the bloody hell is Australia doing in Eurovision”? And that was the second year we competed. And we nearly won it. Europe is ready to accept us. No one else appreciates your annual festival of power ballads and key changes quite like us. Even if you knock this request for EU membership on the head, we guarantee you’ll be seeing us in Kiev next year.


In a couple of years, it’ll be like we were always there. (Wikipedia)

It’s more than just Eurovision though. You should see us during the Tour de France – a month whereby Australian workplace productivity takes a significant dive, thanks to nights of sleep deprivation. Did you know too, Melbourne’s Greek population is the largest outside of Athens (I think I read that somewhere). Thanks to our Italian immigrants, we know what constitutes a good espresso (amongst many other things). You see what we’re saying? We’re not just a former Brit colony – have a look and you’ll see no shortage of Dutch, Irish, and Maltese kicking around. With Britain leaving the EU, what better way to replace an English-speaking nation with one that feels a little more familiar? You’ll find that when it comes to Nonnas, we speak the same language as you.


How do you say “No, thank you, I’m full”. (Pinterest)

There’s mutual benefits to having us on board the EU, mind you. There’s our mutual exchange program for backpackers, which means you’ll find grassroots-level support for an EU membership if it leads to an easier transit through borders. Nobody likes waiting to have their passport scanned after spending more than a day inside an Airbus (which, by the way, did you know we fly?). The line at Sydney Airport goes out the door sometimes. We reckon an Aussie membership to the EU will sort this out for us both.

What about our Asia-Pacific neighbours, we hear you ask? Well, ASEAN has missed its chance with us, and the Pacific Island Forum doesn’t mind us throwing our hat in your ring – hell, New Caledonia has a foot in both camps already. And, just quietly, we reckon the wider Asian region will be OK with it. For one thing, our island continent is staying right here, so all our shared trade and security interests remain as they were. We’re also the beneficiaries of decades of Asia-Pacific immigration, and that doesn’t look like it’ll be slowing anytime soon. It’s pretty bloody fantastic they’re here, because they’ll tie us to the region for generations to come. Australia becoming an EU state just makes us a gateway for the respective Asian and European markets. All win-win, mate.

The Commonwealth? Yeah, we know what you’re thinking, and we’re all over it. Our British ex-pats either moved here for the weather, or to escape so-called EU tyranny, so a Brexit should lead to a couple of them returning home grateful. For the rest of us, we figured out we don’t even have to give up our Governor General or Queen’s Birthday Long Weekend, either. Did you know one of our own is married to the future King of Denmark? Swap in his portrait at the RSL Halls, and replace the Union Jack with a Danish red-and-white cross on our flag, and I doubt most Aussies will notice the difference.


They scrub up alright. (Denmark Government)

Whilst we’re talking, would it be worth our while adopting the Euro down the track? Don’t get us wrong, we love our Aussie Dollar, but it’s a pain in the arse to get a decent exchange on it at the Travelex, and it doesn’t stand up to much punishment. Chinese markets go down, the Aussie Dollar drops. The US Dollar rallies, the Aussie dollar drops. The same goes for the Aussie markets in general, really – a bit of economic insulation with the EU might even do us good. Yeah, yeah – we heard about the state of affairs with Greece, but if anyone’s going to have hard words with them, leave Germany out and send us in – we’ve got Greek relatives, after all. I don’t think too many Aussies will be bothered about the change in notes and coins, so long as you let us put our native animals on some of them. It’ll all be sweet.


We’re about 90% sure the Platypus was a practical joke left here by the Dutch. (Australian Mint)

Don’t get to thinking this is all going to be one-way traffic from our end, mind. We’re not coming to the EU to just free load. Our relative isolation from Europe makes us your neutral go-to for arbitration between member states. Latvia and Estonia are having a tiff? We’ll sort them out – to be honest, we’re not really sure which is which, so you can’t accuse us of playing favourites. The EU is all about standardising things across Europe, and who better to do it than us?

A bit of regulation would do us some good, too. Your organisation cops a bit of criticism for micro-management, but truth be told, we could benefit from standardising some things between our own states. Four different major football codes, for starters. We can’t even keep north and south Tasmania on the same track some times. And do you think a country of 24 million has a common system of beer glasses between each state? It’s a joke, is what it is.

In closing, it’d be a bloody exciting opportunity for you to let us in, and transition the EU from strictly continental boundaries to become a more global power. We’re pretty enthusiastic about the potential of Australia if it had a chair at the EU. We could do with a little more publicity in the world. We don’t get much thoroughfare traffic out our way, you see.

Just whatever you do, don’t give that spare seat away to New Zealand, yeah? They might try and seduce you with their landscape finery and earthy good looks, but forget about them – you’ve already got a Norway.


And don’t even give this bloke a look-in (CBC)



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Review – Night Manager on the small screen

There’s more to this British-American TV series than being just a James Bond audition.  Sadly, there’s also much less than meets the eye.


A television series heavily influenced by Dolce & Gabbana ads.

The Night Manager has all the ingredients we’ve come to expect from major television dramas. Co-produced between BBC and Showtime, the six-part series capitalises on international locations and its solid cast. The idea of adapting a John Le Carre novel, with Tom Hiddleston, Hugh Laurie, Olivia Colman, Tom Hollander and Elizabeth Debicki should work.

The series survives first contact with the viewer, right from the opening title sequence. The credits play against a string of high society visuals – champagne, high tea, pearl necklaces and high speed boats – that morph into the modern tools of war.


Seriously, go watch the title sequence. On repeat.

We’re introduced to Tom Hiddleston as the titular night manager of an upmarket hotel in Cairo during the Arab Spring of 2011. I’ve not read Le Carre’s source material, but despite it being released in 1993, the modernisation works decidedly in the adaptation’s favour.

It’s when the characters open their mouths, however, that The Night Manager falters. Episode One establishes the motivations for Hiddleston’s character as he sets out to infiltrate the world of illegal arms dealing. Once that’s in train, there’s precious little by way of character study or subtext in the script. You could watch this series with the volume turned down and it would still have the same emotional impact. Considering the amount of screentime a television series has to flesh these characters out, there’s often less than meets the eye in The Night Manager.


Yeah, House, I said it

As each character literally speaks about what is happening in the plot at that time, we also miss a real opportunity to explore the modern arms trade business. The Night Manager plays in interesting space here, especially in how governments could be complicit in the approved transport of these arms, which speaks to a conspiracy that some arms dealers are are actively encouraged by western governments. When The Night Manager comes close to making a profound point on this subject, it falls frustratingly short.


There are no trips to the showroom in The Night Manager.

The Night Manager is worth watching, but sadly, there’s little about this that will bring you back for a second viewing. I’ll gladly put the 2011 adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy on the TV for a Sunday afternoon re-watch, and probably catch something I missed in the first dozen viewings. But I could only imagine myself re-watching The Night Manager in the event that Hiddleston is cast as James Bond (or if the series director, Susanne Bier, gets the greenlight for the next film).


We’re gonna need a new tailor.

Roger Moore had The Saint. Pierce Brosnan had Remington Steele.  Daniel Craig had Layer Cake. Is The Night Manager strong enough to hand Hiddleston and Bier the keys to the Aston Martin? No. But in the absence of stronger contenders, that’s not to say that they wont land the gig.


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Can I borrow a lift?

The Luftwaffe is reportedly seeking partners to help cover its tactical airlift gap.

A few months ago, I wrote about how Lockheed Martin might eventually crack a market for its C-130 Hercules that has remained elusive for 60 years – the German Air Force. The world’s most popular military airlifter might finally be wearing the an iron cross.

This week comes news that Germany may look to pool a fleet of Hercules with other local operators – specifically, the Netherlands, France, the United Kingdom, and United States (which operates a squadron at Ramstein Air Force Base, 135km south of Frankfurt).

They come in grey, gray and grau (USAF)

It’s a bold move by Germany, which is reportedly unhappy with the tactical airlift performance of the Airbus Military A400M. The Luftwaffe is receiving 40 A400Ms to replace its C-160 Transall fleet, due for retirement in 2021. Despite the A400M offering a considerable increase in Germany’s strategic airlift capacity, it has reportedly left them cold when it comes to operating from smaller airstrips – something that tactical airlifters need to do as a matter of course.

Getting dirty, eventually (Airbus Group)

A pool arrangement for a limited fleet of Hercules might seem unusual, but is not without some precedent. Already, Germany is party to the European Air Transport Command, which combines airlift, air-to-air refuelling and aero-medical evacuation capacity between seven Air Forces. A number of countries in the EATC – France, Spain, the Netherlands, and Belgium – already contribute their C-130 capacity. Austria, Portugal, Poland and Norway, which currently operate various marks of the C-130 (for now), are potential members.

Airlifters, assemble! (EATC)

Similarly, the NATO Heavy Airlift Wing operates a fleet of three C-17As from Hungary on behalf of selected NATO states (and Sweden). The aircraft carry Hungarian Air Force insignia but are crewed by an international workforce, with partner countries allocated a number of flying hours per year.
Not only are European air forces trending towards pooled aircraft arrangements, but they are adopting common practices in how they operate. The European Advanced Airlift Tactics Training Course (EATTC) brings European transport crews together to plan and conduct airlift missions under a set syllabus for each course, based on operational experience.

Planning for a rainy day (EATC)

So, there’s some precedent to follow for Germany if it has an operating concept for a pooled-fleet of C-130s. Better yet, France is introducing a fleet of four C-130Js, and Netherlands could be a potential customer to replace its C-130H-30s. The United States Air Force in Europe too is a relatively recent C-130J operator. If Germany were to purchase its own fleet – even a handful – of C-130Js, there would be a good case for a European-based Hercules training centre, not to mention local industrial base for maintenance and logistics support.

From this angle, you can’t even see the flag on the tail.  (USAF)
So, the sharing economy works for military airlift like it does for getting a lift with Uber, right? Not necessarily. A key issue for a pooled fleet however is how the aircraft are used. Good tactical airlift is often dynamic and responsive in nature, responding to the needs of frontline customers. The size and performance of a Hercules means it’s best applied as an intra-theatre airlift solution over a longer period, rather than a Fly-In/Fly-Out inter-theatre option like the C-17A. Germany is likely to want C-130Js operating outside of continental Europe, instead flying into austere airfields for peacekeeping operations in Africa or the Middle East.

Taking Uber as a example, it’s like booking a 4WD/SUV to drive you out to a remote campsite located up a goat track, and go back to that site over the course of a week whenever you need them. It’s not outside the bounds of possibility – but it’s not like getting a lift home from the pub. Whoever turns up, you want to be sure they’re up to the task.

Managing a strategic and tactical platforms can therefore be exclusive concepts. Current pool arrangements for strategic airlift or air-to-air refuelling aircraft work because an Air Force can book the flying hours in advance with a degree of predictability. Doing the same for a tactical airlift in a deployed environment however might mean keeping it there for weeks or months. If your partners aren’t co-deployed to that same theatre, then they’re missing out.

That leaves plenty for France, the Netherlands, United Kingdom and United States to consider if they are to entertain Germany’s reported offer of joining a pool fleet of C-130s. For all of the combined advantages, it will require consent from all parties to manage tasking, not to mention ensure the aircraft are ‘up to spec’ – whilst all Hercules might look the same, there can be a wealth of difference in the avionics and self-protection systems they are equipped with, which in turn can affect the theatres that they can fly in to.

It’s not all scenic flying for some. (USAF)

In the meanwhile, what of the A400M? There’s little doubt  Airbus Military is feverishly looking at options to get the A400M to perform more evenly against the C-130J (and Embraer’s KC-390) in the tactical space. Airbus Military can try to implement workarounds, compromises, or modifications that may allow the A400M to meet the needs of France and Germany more closely – otherwise, the aircraft risks losing out to the aircraft it was conceived to replace, the C-130. For countries seeking a strategic lifter (for example, carrying armoured vehicles or helicopters), the A400M is quite simply the only game in town, meaning Airbus Military will enjoy some export successes down the road. But for countries seeking an airlifter to support those same armoured vehicles or helicopters at the frontline, the A400M still isn’t up to task – at least, not yet.

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The New Normal

Bell/Boeing’s revolutionary V-22 Osprey has had very select prospects – until now.

Talisman Sabre 2015

United States Marine Corps MV-22 Ospreys in the Northern Territory during Exercise Talisman Sabre 15 (Defence)

For the past ten years, Bell/Boeing have searched out additional orders for its tilt-rotor V-22 Osprey aircraft beyond the United States Air Force (USAF) and United States Marine Corps. News from Breaking Defense this week suggests that Air National Guard units are interested in purchasing the type as a Search and Rescue (SAR) platform – specifically, Alaska, Texas, and Pennsylvania. As with past announcements about potential V-22 sales, it’s best to wait until a firm commitment is made, and there’s good cause for skepticism here. As journalist Richard Whittle points out, Texas and Pennsylvania have quite an interest in the V-22 program – the aircraft is manufactured in Philadelphia (Boeing) and Forth Worth (Bell), after all. Prospective sales to the Alaska Air National Guard present a good operational case for the Osprey as a SAR platform, however. As the biggest and most remote state in these United States, Alaska has mountainous terrain and bad weather which prohibits the effective use of many helicopters in a SAR role. In spite of its expense, the Osprey just might have a good business case in America’s Last Frontier.


A Marine MV-22 in Alaska (USMC)

More importantly for Bell/Boeing, selling the Osprey to an Air National Guard customer could help to ‘normalise’ a revolutionary aircraft. From its inception, the V-22 Osprey was intended to comprehensively change the way a military would routinely deploy or retrieve personnel, combining the best aspects of fixed- and rotary-wing transport. Instead, it became a very selective – and expensive – solution to specific airlift problems. Tilt-rotor technology inherent to the V-22 didn’t quite spawn an ecosystem of similarly-equipped aircraft in civilian and military use (The AW609 has met limited sales success; Bell’s V-280 Valor is an attempt by the manufacturer to built a tilt-rotor replacement for the UH-60 Blackhawk).

Rather than opt for the Osprey, most nations have opted to continue operating conventional fixed-wing Short Take Off and Landing (STOL) alternatives, or employ simpler rotary-wing aircraft (such as the CH-47 Chinook) that carry bigger payloads than an Osprey, albeit over shorter distances. Neither option combines the Osprey’s advantages of high-speed, long-range, and vertical take off. But at least they’re cheaper.

This means the Osprey’s customer-base has remained largely limited until last year, doing exceptional roles for those who could afford it. The USAF’s Special Operations Command uses them for Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR), whilst the United States Marine Corps – which arguably fought hardest to get the Osprey – primarily employs it as just a medium-veritcal lift platform, although even this is subject to change. The USMC and Bell/Boeing have trialled the Osprey has an air-to-air refuelling tanker, and recently announced its intent to use as an ISR/Strike platform. For an aircraft brought on to just replace the CH-46 Sea Knight, the Osprey is growing its capability significantly.


Adding yet another role to the mix (USMC)

Two important developments in the past year however have seen the Osprey’s customer-base grow. The first was the United States Navy’s announcement that it was ordering 44 Ospreys to replace its C-2A Greyhound Carrier Onboard Delivery (COD) aircraft. Introducing the Osprey to the COD role will reduce the range at which a Fleet can be resupplied, given the Osprey’s shorter range compared to the Greyhound. But it will increase the options for vertical replenishment of surface ships; not to mention, allow carriers themselves to land forces ashore, such as during humanitarian assistance and disaster relief operations.


Osprey buzzing the tower (Bell/Boeing)

Another sales success has been Japan’s announcement that it would purchase its first five of an anticipated 17 Ospreys. Japan’s purchase is ostensibly to support humanitarian and disaster relief capabilities along with supporting amphibious operations. The aircraft has proven itself in this capacity during disaster relief operations in the Philippines and Japan itself, where it can be rapidly deployed within the immediate region and can be used to deliver aid flexibly. On amphibious operations, the Osprey will likely see day-to-day use in conjunction with Japan’s helicopter destroyers and landing ships, alongside aircraft like the CH-47 Chinook. Its performance here might inform other potential foreign customers about whether they really need to supplement their existing rotary-wing aircraft to support amphibious operations. The Osprey will allow these ships to remain further offshore, or project forces deeper inland – the question is, do amphibious forces necessarily need this capability, and can they afford it?


Coming to a pile of unbuilt model kits near you. (Hasegawa)



Another avenue to future Osprey sales however might be in what has the Air National Guards of Alaska, Pennsylvania and Texas so interested – SAR and CSAR.



During airborne SAR and CSAR operations, timing is a critical factor for the responding force. Whomever is in need of rescue is often at risk to the elements or enemy forces. The Osprey is a natural fit here, given its speed and range advantages over a helicopter, and ability to operate independently of airfields to deliver a rescuing force. For CSAR operations, the USAF has equipped the CV-22 Osprey variant with a number of self-protection systems to allow it some measure of defence in a hostile environment. The limiting factor is the V-22’s rotor downwash, which prevents it from winching survivors from the water.That’s a pretty important requirement for conducting SAR and CSAR – think of all the times you’ve seen an emergency services helicopter winch people to safety.


Good CSAR is like insurance – you hope never to use it, but you need a good policy if the worst happens. In the case of most western Air Forces, that coverage comes courtesy of the USAF, which operates the most comprehensive CSAR capability in the world with a mixed fleet HC-130J Hercules, HH-60 Nighthawks, and CV-22 Ospreys. A few other Air Forces use modified EC725 Caracal or AW101 helicopters, which obviously don’t have the Ospreys performance; but are admittedly cheaper and can be more conventionally operated.


Plus, Italy painted their’s black, so you know its good. (Leonardo Helicopters)

CSAR is a niche role, but one that has applications in conventional military and humanitarian operations when it’s not being applied directly. More militaries are envisaging a need for the role, rather than banking on the USAF as being their sole provider. The Australian 2016 Defence White Paper advised that the Army’s fleet of CH-47F Chinooks would be given an initial SAR and Aero-Medical Evacuation (AME) capability, and went on to raise the prospect of a long-range and high-speed being acquired under a AU$3 billion program. In Australia’s case, a CSAR capability would provide a useful contribution to Coalition air campaigns, akin to the RAAF’s deployment of Wedgetail Airborne Early Warning and Control aircraft, along with the KC-30A Multi-Role Tanker Transport. A CSAR potentially be employed on humanitarian assistance and disaster relief operations, or even to evacuate citizens from a foreign country.


The cabin is still a tight squeeze (USMC)

Introducing that capability comes at a price, especially given the Osprey is not the only CSAR platform on offer. But there’s some precedent for being optimistic about the aircraft. Boeing’s C-17A Globemaster III experienced a similar shift from an arguably niche strategic airlift capability to wider-spread export prosperity during its lifetime. In the late 1990s, it was largely unthinkable that anyone aside from the USAF would operate the C-17A, largely due to its operating costs and the availability of civilian cargo alternatives. Delays with the European Future Large Aircraft program (which became the A400M) led the Royal Air Force (RAF) to lease a fleet of four C-17As in 2001. The subsequent Afghanistan and Iraq Wars, coupled with the C-17A’s evolving utility and reliability, led the RAF to purchase the aircraft outright, and order four more. By the time C-17A production finished in 2015, it had attracted seven more export customers. That might not be the same runaway export success of an aircraft like the C-130 Hercules, but to its credit, the C-17A ‘normalised’ the idea of an air force possessing its own strategic airlift capability for future generations. Once governments had a taste, they couldn’t bear to think of not having that option open to them. The current combat operations in the Middle East, coupled with humanitarian missions undoubtedly to come, might do the same for the V-22 Osprey just yet.


A quick plug for Richard Whittle’s history of the Bell Tilt-Rotor and V-22 program, The Dream Machine, which I highly recommend (Simon and Schuster)


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Swinging but not winning – the AA-107 jet trainer


Australia’s best looking aircraft was a failed collaboration with Britain. Its story tells us of the challenges of training fast jet pilots on the late 1960s.

The pace of aviation development during the Cold War posed a conundrum for Air Forces at the time. Aircraft manufacturers promised a new wave of technology that would deliver unforeseen performance, especially for interceptors and strike aircraft. During the 1960s, the next generation of fast jets promised Mach Two speed,  would be equipped with variable geometry wings, and have to operate anywhere between 50 to 65,000 feet.

One of the central challenges for these Air Forces was the job of training pilots to operate these planned aircraft. At the time, flying training schools offered a relatively benign introduction to jet flying for new pilots, with aircraft like the Jet Provost, Vampire, Fouga Magister and T-33 Shooting Star. A new generation of fast combat jets would require jet trainers that would offer greater performance, easing a pilot’s transition to complicated (and expensive) supersonic aircraft.

During the 1960s, two different approaches were taken for development the next generation of jet trainers. Some were largely a natural evolution of the previous types – subsonic aircraft that could be operated cheaply and still offer good performance, such as the Dornier/Dassault/Bregeut Alpha Jet; the Aermacchi MB339; and the Hawker Siddeley (now BAe) Hawk.

The other approach however was to develop training aircraft that would give student pilots an experience of supersonic flight regimes. The United States Air Force accomplished this through the Northrop T-38 Talon, whilst the Soviet Union created the MiG-21UB, with both types being simplified variants of frontline fighters. Whilst supersonic trainers meant sacrificing the benign handling qualities usually found in training aircraft, it also promised to reduce the amount of time spent converting pilots onto frontline combat aircraft.

The Thunder Down Under

The Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) was one such air arm faced with the issue of ‘subsonic versus supersonic’ training requirements in the 1960s. The Aermacchi MB326 jet trainer (fondly known as the Macchi) was introduced in the middle of the decade to replace both the piston-engine Winjeel basic trainer and the twin-seat Vampire jet trainer. The idea was that pilots would conduct an all-through jet pilot course on the MB326 before posting to an operational type, but by 1968, the RAAF had re-instituted the Winjeel as a basic trainer. The Macchi was left as an advanced pilot trainer, from which pilots would graduate to operational flying – whether it be large aircraft like the Hercules, Caribou, Orion; helicopters like the Iroquoisl or the fast jet fleet.

For that fast jet workforce, there was still the issue of transitioning pilots from the straight-wing Macchi to Mach Two aircraft. In 1965, the Dassault Mirage III began its entry to RAAF service, and in 1967, Australia’s Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation (CAC) proposed a tiny delta jet trainer called the CA-31, covering the training gap between the Macchi and the Mirage. The CA-31 was passed over, but CAC didn’t give up hope. Instead, they took another tact – proposing a jet trainer with a variable-geometry wing (better known as swing wing).

Adopting a swing wing made relative sense in the late 1960s. The majority of the world’s western Air Forces had ordered, or were developing, a range of jet interceptors and strike aircraft with the design. France had the Mirage G. The United States had the F-14 and the F-111 (the latter of which was on order for the RAAF). Britain had partnered with France on the Anglo-French Variable Geometry strike jet, from which France would drop out, leaving Britain to take to Germany and Italy as the Panavia Tornado. Swing wings promised aircraft with swept-back wings to deliver high-speed on low-level strike missions, or high-altitude intercepts. With the wings swept forward, their low-speed handling qualities improved, shortening take off and landing rolls. The prospect of all of these aircraft being developed almost assured they would be exported widely abroad throughout the 1970s, which created some expectation that swing wings a common technology around the world.

With that mindset, CAC’s management could have been forgiven for thinking a variable geometry trainer was a winner, especially if it saved flying hours in a more expensive and complicated frontline type. A jet trainer would have lower operating costs, be less complex, and allow frontline aircraft to focus more of their flying on operational duties. What was more, the aircraft would have potential use as a light attack aircraft, again relieving larger frontline types for more complication missions. Perhaps having learned its lesson from launching the CA-31 as a solo venture, CAC partnered itself with the British Aircraft Corporation (BAC) on this project.


The AA-107 mock-up (Friends of AA-107 Facebook Group)

Design and Performance

Sometime in the late 1960s, BAC and CAC produced their design for the AA-107. From a purely aesthetic perspective, it’s arguably the most attractive post-war aircraft to have been designed by an Australian, even if it was a joint program.

From external appearances, the forward section of the AA-107 looks like an Alpha Jet – a pointed nose and stepped-cockpit, allowing good forward visibility for an instructor in the backseat. Aft of the cockpit is a slim fuselage, not unlike single-engine light fighters of its time. The swing-wings are mounted on a narrow-glove on top of the fuselage, and the horizontal and vertical stabilisers are swept to an angle also optimised for supersonic flight.

The planned powerplant for the AA-107 was the Rolls Royce Adour, which would provide approximately 6000lbs of thrust. If fitted with an afterburner, the Adour would have produced 8000lbs of thrust.


The AA-107 in Ballarat (Mike Forsberg) 

There’s little reason to expect the AA-107 would have been fitted with an internal armament or avionics beyond basic radios and navigation systems, given its primary focus as a trainer. Its size however might have permitted the installation of a radar, if the customer required. There’s little real estate on the external fuselage however for mounting pylons – at a stretch, the AA-107 could probably take two pylons on the underside of the fuselage, which could have allowed the carriage of gunpods, bombs, IR-guided missiles, or fuel tanks. Each wing could potentially have been fitted with a single swivel-pylon, again allowing the carriage of external fuel tanks or munitions.

Given its powerplant and design, we can likely infer the AA-107 would have been capable of flying in excess of Mach One at altitude. Provided the swing-wing mechanisms were developed without complications (which can be a big ‘if’), the AA-107 would have granted pilots an appreciation of different performance regimes before transitioning to bigger swing-wing jets like the F-111 or Tornado. That includes exposing pilots to high-speed flight at low-level, as well as correctly transitioning through various wing-sweep angles.

Contrasting with the Hawk, the AA-107 would have been faster, but handicapped by poorer range and manoeuvrability. Both aircraft are powered by the same Adour engine, however the AA-107’s size and swing wings would have made it heavier (the Hawk weighs in at about 9880lbs or 4.5 tonnes empty; 20,000lbs or 9.1 tonnes maximum take off). I could find no other performance figures for the AA-107, suffice to say it could probably have carried a useful payload of 6600lbs or 3 tonnes, again based on the Hawk’s performance.

Too much, too late

When viewed on its own, it’s hard to imagine why the AA-107 didn’t stir some interest within prospective Air Forces, or indeed, the respective British and Australian Governments. It’s a very attractive design, and could potentially have addressed some very real training issues in the early 1970s. The bigger picture however illustrates the AA-107 being doomed to fail from its outset.

In 1970, Britain had already treaded the path of a jointly-developed jet trainer that offered high performance and a light attack capability – the Anglo-French SEPECAT Jaguar. By the time of its first flight in 1968, the Jaguar program had abandoned any intent of being an advanced trainer, instead falling victim to mission creep that led the aircraft to emerge as a dedicated low-altitude strike jet (which, arguably, neither the French nor British really needed, considering what else their Air Forces were equipped with at the time).


The Jaguar still proved an operational success (Wiki Commons)

Throughout the AA-107’s development, a number of subsonic jet trainers were also coming into being – namely, the Hawker Siddeley Hawk, the Dassault/Dornier/Bregeut Alpha Jet, and the Aermacchi MB339. Because they had foregone any requirement for supersonic performance or swing wings, their development was significantly quicker, easier, and cheaper, and as such, made for extremely attractive fighter-trainers for prospective Air Forces. Indeed, all three types have gone on to successful export careers.

By 1970, the realities of swing wing technology were also becoming better understood. France had abandoned the Mirage G. The F-111 had undergone a protracted development in the United States, and wing issues delayed arrival of Australia’s F-111Cs to 1973. Britain was forging ahead with the Panavia Tornado with Germany and Italy, but its first flight would not come until 1974. Introducing a subsonic advanced trainer was seen as a quick and cheap option; developing a swing-wing trainer was an expensive liability.

Amidst this, defence budgets continued to be constrained in funding. The British Defence Budget in 1970 was continuing its post-colonial contractions, whilst Australia’s own Defence interests were being formed by its role in Vietnam, and its Five-Power Defence Arrangement, which largely involved fielding forces in Malaysia. The thought of a supersonic jet trainer, given both countries’ experiences in the 1960s, was less of a necessity and more of a luxury.

The AA-107 was formally cancelled in May of 1970. Fortunately, the plywood mockup produced by CAC survived, and is hung today in the Ballarat Aviation Museum. Reading newspaper reports from the time of its cancellation, there appeared to be little mourning for the AA-107’s passing. Whilst the AA-107 has become another cited example for the slow death of Australia’s aircraft manufacturing industry, the reality is perhaps a little more complicated – it was a good-looking aircraft with a niche role, at best.

21MAY70 - Canberra Times

Canberra Times reporting of the project cancellation, 20 May 1970 (Trove).

Had development of the AA-107 commenced sooner, and adopted a conventional fixed-wing (even one optimised for subsonic flight), its prospects would have been brighter. Such a design would have pre-dated the Hawk, which has subsequently gone on to a very successful export career. As it was, the AA-107 offered too much, and arrived too late.


In a reality where the AA-107 made the leap from plywood mockup to a genuine article, its prospects for success might have still been marginal at best. First flight would have come around 1973-74, just as the RAAF was receiving the first of its initial 24 F-111Cs, with service entry around 1975-76. By the time AA-107s entered squadron service, the RAAF would have better understood the process of transitioning pilots from the MB326 to the F-111C, further questioning the need for such a trainer. It is difficult to argue the value too of a swing-wing jet trainer to the Mirage III workforce, especially given the availability of tandem seat trainers for that type.

The other intended role for the AA-107 – light attack aircraft – was even less critical for the RAAF. By the late 1970s, Australia was adapting its entire Mirage III fleet for ground attack duties as well as continuing their use as a fighter. Beyond the RAAF, the Royal Australian Navy in 1970 was operating ten A-4G Skyhawks, with ten more on order (I am curious to know if the AA-107 could have been fitted with a rugged undercarriage to permit carrier landings). With the inclusion of the F-111C, Australia had no real shortfall in its ground attack capability in the 1970s. The AA-107 would have offered cheaper operating costs than the Mirage III or F-111C, but less total capability. All histories considered, it’s hard to imagine the Australia ever needing more than 30 AA-107s – sufficient to equip two squadrons – for fighter training. And that’s being generous.

The Royal Air Force (RAF), meanwhile, equipped itself with the Panavia Tornado in a strike role from the mid-1970s, and as an interceptor in the 1980s. A small fleet of AA-107s could conceivably have provided lead-in training for these types. In reality, the Hawker Siddeley (later BAe) Hawk, replaced the Folland Gnat and Hawker Hunter, and served to train pilots on the Tornado, Lightning, Harrier, Jaguar, Phantom, and Typhoon.

Export prospects for the AA-107 would have largely been to those Air Forces operating a swing-wing aircraft. Fellow Tornado operators can be ruled out, as Germany was insistent on its jet training aircraft being twin-engine. Italy had its own training jet industry in Aermacchi – any adaption of the AA-107 would have needed to be licence-built.

BAC’s backing may have allowed two important export customers, however – India and Saudi Arabia. In the mid-1970s, India began equipping itself with the variable-geometry MiG-23 interceptor, followed by the ground attack MiG-27 in the 1980s. Flying the MiG-23 is a daunting prospect for a young pilot – it’s a big, powerful aircraft, and its training variant offered the back-seat pilot little in the way of visibility. A simpler swing-wing trainer like the AA-107 might have eased this transition. However, it’s questionable what advantages an Anglo/Australian-designed trainer would have offered pilots of a Soviet-designed fighter.

For the Saudis, BAC enjoyed success with exporting the Strikemaster and Lightning, and later the Hawk and Tornado under its BAE guise. If this success was applied to a BAC-marketed AA-107, its easy to consider the prospects of this trainer with Middle Eastern Air Forces, especially given the comparative export success of the Jaguar and Hawk within the region. Had the AA-107 cracked this market, the type could have continued flying well into the 1990s.

Post Script

Today, the AA-107 serves as another footnote in the history of failed Australian aviation programs. Casting aside criticisms of the relationship between the Australian Government and its aviation industry from the 1960s to the 1980s, it’s understandable why the AA-107 was technically, politically, and financially prohibited from succeeding. Never the less, a handful of factors have seen the aircraft gain a small following amongst aviation enthusiasts.

Key amongst these is the survival of the mock-up in Ballarat. Increased archiving of newspapers and periodicals from the time of its development have also preserved its memory. Online communities have also celebrated the aircraft’s memory.

One day, I wouldn’t mind kitbashing a few model aircraft in an attempt to produce a 1/72nd scale replica of an AA-107. All we’ve seen of this aircraft is in a bare metal finish with RAAF roundels; I wouldn’t mind speculating a green/grey camouflage scheme for the AA-107 with a No. 76 Squadron insignia on the tail, equipped with fuel tanks and a pair of AIM-9Bs, acting as an ‘aggressor’ jet during an East Coast Air Defence Exercise during the early 1980s. One can but dream

Special thanks to the ‘Friends of the AA107 swing wing attack aircraft’ Facebook Group, and Mike Forsberg, for assisting on this post.









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