The Sea Vixen: The Strangest Fighter Jet in British History

Humanity’s introduction to the jet age was like the start of a sprinting foot-race, one in which everybody from Olympic athletes, to the reasonably fit, to the clumsy, uncoordinated couch potato were represented all at once. The Americans and the Soviets took off with the mad desperation of bitter enemies, desperate to ensure that they, and not the other, would see their hand raised by the day’s end. The French and the Swedes set out at a brisk marathoner’s jog, knowing that with care and patience, they’d be leading the pack by the day’s end.

A handful of other nations started to walk, started to chat, and started trading around snacks from their fanny packs, all just happy to be outside in the sunshine. And Britain… well, Britain fell flat on its face.

The aircraft responsible was the de Havilland Sea Vixen, a twin-engine, twin-tailed air defense fighter that’s been panned alternately as the weirdest-looking jet fighter in British history, and the outright worst. With a design so goofy that it could only be from the early jet years, and a crash record so appallingly long that it could be its own book, the Sea Vixen was more of a wake-up call than anything, a clear message to the UK that if it was going to have a future in military aviation, then that future would have to involve an aircraft that simply wasn’t this one.

But, hey… at least he’s winking at ya.

Design and Development

The Sea Vixen was first conceived in the same era of aviation history as iconic aircraft like the American F-86 and the Soviet MiG-15, both intended to be their country’s first truly valuable, long-term jet fighter aircraft. The early introduction of jet-turbine and rocket aircraft, particularly by Nazi Germany in the waning months of World War II, had kicked off a sort of cover-your-ass arms race, as nations scrambled to put even rather rudimentary warbirds into the sky that could compete with these much faster, much higher-powered aircraft. But in the years after the war, as aeronautical engineers and military aviators began to realize just how fast this technology was developing and how much potential it had, the victorious nations of the world—Britain among them—endeavored to lay claim to a jet fighter that could really be something.

In the UK, the de Havilland Aircraft Company was among those who got the call. Coming off a productive and lucrative few years of war, where its Mosquito multirole aircraft had taken center stage, de Havilland had already proven itself competent at manufacturing jet fighters, specifically the Vampire, which was introduced to the Royal Air Force in 1946 with a total of nearly 3,300 constructed. But the Vampire was still among those early stopgap aircraft, numerous as it might have been. The Crown was clear about what it wanted: an all-weather fighter aircraft, powered by jet engines, and equipped with onboard radar, to fill a role with the Royal Navy as its piston aircraft were phased out, and to take over for part of the Royal Air Force’s fleet as well.

In order to fill the role that the British government was looking for, de Havilland knew from the outset that a few other requirements would also have to be implicitly understood in order for the plane to function. It would require a second seat onboard, adding a navigator and radar operator to assist the pilot. It would need onboard redundancies, particularly a second engine, because of how risky it was to have a fighter like that suffer an engine failure in the middle of the ocean.

It was envisioned to include a swept-wing design, and in keeping with the twin-boom tail design that had distinguished de Havilland’s prior jet aircraft, their new plane would incorporate a twin-boom tail as well. Their new plane was designated the DH.110, although it wouldn’t receive its proper name for almost a decade after its conception.

De Havilland would design their fighter with dual intentions in mind: to populate the RAF’s fleet of night fighters, and to perform both night-fighter and strike roles with the British Royal Navy. Despite early setbacks from the Royal Navy changing its mind about what sort of aircraft it wanted, opting instead to refit an existing aircraft that was drifting toward obsolescence, de Havilland persevered nonetheless, anticipating correctly that the jet aircraft of the late 1940s wouldn’t be good for much—at least not for very long. By 1951, de Havilland had tightened the screws on its initial prototype, which took its maiden flight in September of that year.

In the early days, the aircraft overperformed well past expectations, and it earned another distinction, as the first British two-seater jet fighter to ever pass the sound barrier. While its engines weren’t quite powerful enough to push it past Mach 1 in level flight, it could push cleanly past the sound barrier in a short dive, which it did with regularity by early 1952 during test flights. De Havilland was proud of its new aircraft, and rightfully so; although it wasn’t time for a victory lap just yet, the company had produced a plane that seemed quite clearly as if it had put London into the second generation of the jet age, and identified an aircraft with the potential to become as iconic for Britain as the Spitfire and the Swordfish had done during World War II.

But on the sixth of September, 1952, just under a year after the Sea Vixen’s first flight, tragedy struck, for the whole world to see. De Havilland and the British government had decided to debut the DH.110 to the public at the Farnborough Air Show, an international and very, very famous biennial airshow where some of the world’s most innovative aircraft have been unveiled. Behind the stick was one John Derry, age 33, who’d been a squadron commander flying Hawker Typhoons against the Nazis over the Netherlands, and probably become the first Brit to break the sound barrier, in an uncontrolled dive while testing the experimental de Havilland Swallow aircraft a few years earlier.

Alongside him was 25-year-old Anthony Richards, a new member to the test flight program who had only barely become a man by the time the war ended. During the airshow, the two took their DH.110 into a supersonic dive from 40,000 feet, pulled up near the ground, and banked left to fly over the crowd.

When they did, tragedy struck. Both engines and the cockpit were jolted out of the airframe, in a disintegration of the entire aircraft. The cockpit impacted the runway, killing both Derry and Richards, and one of the engines was catapulted directly into the crowd.

Twenty-nine spectators would be killed in the incident, the worst of Farnborough Air Show history. Although de Havilland wouldn’t be found liable for the accident, it still required an urgent redesign of the aircraft, without which the program itself might not have survived. Later investigation identified the leading edge of the DH.110’s wing as the culprit, buckling under the high stress of rolling maneuvers in a way that caused the cockpit and tail to break away from the wings.

It was after this catastrophe that de Havilland realized that a rethink of the Sea Vixen was in order, and when they undertook that challenge, the plane ended up better for it. The modifications, including reinforced wings, would prevent the DH.110 from hitting the speed of sound again, but it was a worthy trade-off in the end. After the accident, the Royal Air Force decided to go a different route for its new jet, pursuing the Gloster Javelin instead. The Royal Navy’s Fleet Air Arm, though, stayed true to its desire to pick up at least a few of the planes; they’d eventually place an order for 110 navalised versions, naming them the Sea Vixen in early 1955.

In all, it would be nearly eight full years from the Sea Vixen’s first flight to its introduction to service. During that time, the plane would undergo a wide range of tweaks and changes, most of which were net positives to the aircraft design. It would feature integrated weapons systems, more advanced radar, a fire-control system, and the requisite equipment to be launched from the catapults of aircraft carriers and land with an arresting tailhook. By early 1957, it was ready to enter production, and in 1959, the first squadron of Sea Vixens went operational for the first time.

Specs and Capabilities

Two versions of the Sea Vixen would ultimately be delivered to the Royal Navy: the FAW.1, and the FAW.2. Because the FAW.2 was the objectively better plane, and most Sea Vixens would be either built or converted to the FAW.2 model by the time all was said and done, it’s those specs that we’re going to rely on, to get a clear picture of exactly what this fighter aircraft was capable of.

Measuring a total of 55 and a half feet, 17 meters, from tip to tail, with a wingspan of exactly fifty-one feet or fifteen and a half meters, the Sea Vixen weighed in at just a hair under 28,000 pounds empty; that’s about 12,700 kilograms, or fourteen tons. When fully loaded with fuel, weapons, and pilots, it was close to 47,000 pounds, 23-and-a-half tons or a bit over 21,000 kilograms. The plane was powered by two Rolls-Royce Avon 208 turbojet engines, and flown by a crew of two, including a pilot and a radar operator.

Unlike… just about every other fighter jet, before and since, the Sea Vixen’s cockpit wasn’t sat in the center of the fuselage, and it actually wasn’t even one cockpit at all. The pilot’s cockpit was offset to the left-hand side of the aircraft, poking out of the body of the aircraft enough to see, while the radar operator was to sit completely inside the fuselage, with a top-hatch over his head that was referred to as the “coal hole.” Inside, the radar operator’s hatch was kept dark and insulated from the world around it, which, on the one hand, must feel rather safe and secure if your plane’s in the middle of a dogfight, but, on the other, seems like a near-guarantee of some pretty gnarly motion sickness.

The reason for the coal hole? The Sea Vixen’s rudimentary radar screens, which could only really be read in the dark. Each crew member flew with a flight suit, and was granted ejector seats that were designed to be able to function even when the aircraft was fully underwater.

The Sea Vixen flew at a maximum speed of 690 miles per hour, 1,110 kilometers per hour, or at Mach 0.91. Again, it was not able to achieve supersonic flight even in dives, something that was no longer possible after the refits that had followed the Farnborough disaster. The aircraft had a range of 790 miles, 1,270 kilometers, without the use of external fuel tanks, giving it a total flight time of just above an hour if it flew fully loaded.

The plane hit a service ceiling of 48,000 feet, or fifteen kilometers, which it could hit in just over five minutes—or, in 320 seconds, if we’re being precise about it. In terms of its armament, the Sea Vixen was equipped with a total of six hardpoints, which were able to accommodate rocket pods with a total of up to 128 rockets on board, depending on the configuration, or up to four air-to-air and two air-to-ground missiles, or bombs in a configuration of two by 1,000 pounds, four by 500 pounds, or a single, 1,750-pound, Red Beard freefall nuclear bomb. It was the first British naval fighter aircraft ever to fly without onboard guns, and among the first to be equipped to receive in-flight refueling from tanker aircraft.

It could also carry a tanker of its own to refill other aircraft, if need be. However, it was also one of a long list of airplanes that fell victim to an overconfidence in the power of the air-to-air missile, which, in the Sea Vixen’s day, had to be guided by the aircraft’s onboard radar to get close to an enemy aircraft before its infrared homing system could take over and finish the job.

Overall, the plane offered a marked improvement on the capabilities and potential of the aircraft that had come before. It was unique in both good and bad ways, cumbersome to fly at times, but packed a whole lot of power under the hood. The FAW.2 redesign would give it sophisticated weaponry befitting an aircraft of the 1960s, and its flying controls, while demanding, were a convenient opportunity for airmen to greatly advance the flying capability of the British Royal Navy generally. The plane’s onboard redundancies, its autopilot, and its safe controls, designed to remain useful even if both engines failed and electrical power cut out to the rest of the aircraft, made it a plane that, at least on paper, pilots had every reason to trust.

A Bumpy Ride

But when we take a look at the Sea Vixen’s service life, it’s not the plane’s involvement in any particular war that we’ve got to think about, it’s not the plane’s record-breaking performance, and it’s not the plane’s reputation among its pilots. It’s the crashes… so, so many crashes.

145 Sea Vixens would be constructed over the course of the plane’s time on the production line. By the time that it left service for good in 1972, just past a decade after its initial introduction, only ninety of those aircraft survived, with a staggering 38% loss rate across the entire Sea Vixen fleet’s lifespan. Of fifty-five lost airframes, thirty would take their operators with them, including twenty-one in which both the pilot and the radar man were lost. And these weren’t wartime losses, either. The plane was difficult to land on the decks of the relatively small aircraft carriers it operated on, especially because of its low-drag design, which gave pilots only a tiny critical window to slow their plane down enough to land without stalling out and dipping too low. Sea Vixens also suffered a particularly high loss rate while performing ground attack missions, using self-illuminating targeting flares. The radar-man in the coal hole was in particular danger; the hole’s hatch didn’t jettison nearly as quickly as the radar operators would have liked, and in several incidents, they were unable to escape crashes that the plane’s pilots survived. The FAW.2 version of the plane would feature a much wider hatch, built with material that could shatter as the radar operator and his ejector seat were launched through. Per seavixen.org, a commemorative website run by the plane’s former operators and their families, these radar-men would be, quote, “hurled and thrown around the skies under high g forces” while serving inside the Sea Vixen, even when the plane was flying as intended. Says the site, quote: “These Naval Observers had the utmost courage and were exceptionally brave. They had to completely trust their pilot at all times.” All true, but the caveat, of course, is that for an operator with so little awareness of what was happening outside the cockpit, their survival was completely at the whim of a hard-to-control airplane, and pilot error.

Unfortunately for the Sea Vixen’s legacy, it saw no major wars during its service life, and thus none of the battlefield success that might have otherwise redeemed it for its dismal safety record. But it did take part in a handful of minor conflicts across the 1960s, during which time it distinguished itself as a competent, if perhaps not extraordinary addition to the British arsenal. Over Iraq in 1961, it served as a powerful deterrent and intimidation tactic to convince President Abdul Karim Kassem that an invasion of Kuwait was a bad idea.

In 1964, it served over modern-day Tanzania, then Tanganyika to deal with a large-scale mutiny of the national army against its British officers and commanders. In response, the Sea Vixen would provide overwatch to British Royal Marines in their successful attempt to restore order. They’d conduct airstrikes in the territory known today as Yemen, they’d help to deter and defuse a confrontation between Indonesia and Malaysia, they’d help to blockade oil from the unrecognized Republic of Rhodesia, and they’d provide cover for the Royal Navy as it got the hell out of modern-day Yemen’s port city of Aden.

The Sea Vixen’s air service was mostly about deterrence and occasional enforcement of British will, as it became one of many emblems of Britain’s slow, stuttering decline as a major power. With Britain’s attempts at global power projection growing weaker and weaker, it made some sense that the Sea Vixen itself began to look more and more ineffectual. But it still got a workout in some other roles, nonetheless.

Sea Vixens would be part of two Royal Navy display teams during their service life, and a few would be converted to drones, for a program that ultimately didn’t go anywhere. They’d engage in mock dogfights and have good success against supersonic interceptors like the Dassault Mirage III from France, and the English Electric Lightning from Britain, using its tight turn radius and its evasiveness to starve the faster planes of their fuel and then hit them with a missile as they tried to get away. But by 1972, the Sea Vixen had reached the end of its service life, and most of the UK wasn’t too torn up to see it go.

It would ultimately be replaced by the American-made Phantom interceptor, designated the F-4 in the US and the FG.1 in Britain.

These days, if you’re going to see a Sea Vixen, you can do it all across the UK, as well as in Australia, and perhaps best of all, you’ll be able to rest assured that the Sea Vixen won’t be flying. It’s a plane with a complicated legacy, one with fond memories left over by those who flew behind the stick, but on the whole, it might just be for the best that the Sea Vixen will likely never fly again.

Key Takeaways

• The de Havilland Sea Vixen is often considered one of the worst and weirdest jet fighters in British history.
• The Sea Vixen’s development was marked by a tragic accident at the Farnborough Air Show in 1952.
• The aircraft had a high crash rate, with 38% of the fleet lost during its service life.
• Despite its flaws, the Sea Vixen saw action in several minor conflicts during the 1960s.
• The plane’s unique design, including an offset cockpit and a ‘coal hole’ for the radar operator, contributed to its challenges.

Sources

• Original MegaProjects video: The Sea Vixen: The Strangest Fighter Jet in British History
• https://simpleflying.com/farnborough-crash-1952-story/
• https://www.seavixen.org/sea-vixen-accidents-public-page
• https://www.baesystems.com/en/heritage/de-havilland-dh110-sea-vixen
• https://the-past.com/shorts/ideas/back-to-the-drawing-board-the-de-havilland-sea-vixen/
• https://www.thunder-and-lightnings.co.uk/seavixen/
• https://navywings.org.uk/portfolio/sea-vixen/
• https://nationalinterest.org/blog/worst-fighter-ever-meet-de-havilland-sea-vixen-207410
• https://www.seavixen.org/aircrew/maintenance-testimonies
• https://www.seavixen.org/aircrew/aircrew-testimonies
• https://www.seavixen.org/
• https://www.seavixen.org/sea-vixen-history
• Hero image source by Photograph by Mike Peel (www.mikepeel.net). / openverse, by-sa.

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