Unlucky Jim & The Damian Solution

Unlucky Jim & The Damian Solution From low-level flying to long-form writing. Former Army Air Corps pilot and author of The Damian Solution and Unlucky Jim. Some of it’s fiction.

Writing about aviation, conflict, and how things unravel when they shouldn’t. Some of it definitely isn’t.

The Drumcree stand-off in July 1998 was one of the defining moments of the Troubles’ final chapter. Following the Parade...
13/07/2026

The Drumcree stand-off in July 1998 was one of the defining moments of the Troubles’ final chapter. Following the Parades Commission’s decision to prevent the Orange Order returning along the Garvaghy Road, days of confrontation, rioting and sectarian attacks spread across Northern Ireland. Communities became increasingly polarised and fear replaced hope.

Then, in the early hours of 12 July, everything changed.

Richard, Mark and Jason Quinn were murdered when their family home in Ballymoney was petrol bombed in a sectarian attack. Three little boys, aged 11, 10 and 9, died together in the flames while their mother escaped helplessly. Their deaths horrified people across every political and religious divide.

I was serving in Northern Ireland at the time. Like thousands of soldiers and police officers, we had spent days trying to contain escalating violence without becoming part of it. The atmosphere was unlike anything I had experienced. Every decision mattered because every mistake had consequences.

The murder of the Quinn brothers stopped many people in their tracks. Even voices within unionism and the Orange Order pleaded for the Drumcree protest to end, recognising that any victory would be hollow in the shadow of three children’s coffins. Public support for the stand-off rapidly ebbed away and within days the protest had largely collapsed.

For me, the Quinn brothers have always represented the true cost of sectarian hatred.

They were not politicians.
They were not soldiers.
They were not police officers.
They were simply children.

Whatever your tradition, whatever your politics, their deaths remain one of the darkest moments of the Troubles and a reminder of where hatred can lead when humanity is lost.

As the anniversaries of Drumcree come around each year, I remember not the barricades or the riots, but three young boys whose lives should have stretched far beyond the summer of 1998.



https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1764316800

A few people have asked whether there will be a sequel to The Damian Solution.The short answer is yes.The slightly longe...
24/06/2026

A few people have asked whether there will be a sequel to The Damian Solution.

The short answer is yes.

The slightly longer answer is that when I finished writing The Damian Solution, I genuinely thought that was the end of it. The itch had been scratched.

As it happens, I was wrong.

Over the last few months I’ve been researching artificial intelligence, pandemics, intelligence operations and an uncomfortable question that keeps nagging away at me.

If two intelligent systems analyse exactly the same information and reach completely different conclusions, which one do you trust?

The sequel is slowly taking shape.

Working title: The Damian Equation.

Some familiar names and faces will be returning. A few new ones have arrived to complicate matters.

As for whether everyone makes it to the final chapter…

Well, if you’ve read either of my previous books, you’ll already know that’s probably not a sensible assumption.



https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1764316819

Yesterday marked the anniversary of an event that has stayed with me for more than thirty years.It became the prologue t...
22/06/2026

Yesterday marked the anniversary of an event that has stayed with me for more than thirty years.

It became the prologue to Unlucky Jim because, in many ways, everything that followed traces back to that moment.

Corporal Gary Fenton was killed while attempting to stop a fuel smuggler on the border.

I never met Gary, but his death has travelled with me ever since.

This is the opening chapter of my story.

*Bessbrook Mill Helipad, Northern Ireland*

It was just another Lynx 5 duty in South Armagh until Buzzard’s voice came over the PA system.

“CRASH-OUT. 5 and 7, CRASH-OUT.”

No hesitation. Training took over, boots moving before the brain caught up.

The pilots were out of the door, the aircraft burning and turning before commanders were even strapped in.

In the back, the doorgunners had the GPMG ready while marshalling the ARF into place, dog, handler and all.

Buzzard gave me the bare bones.

“1.5 kilometres north of Cross on the Blaney Road. Patrol in contact.”

The rest came as we climbed hard and fast up the Tube, Charlie at the controls, max power.

A joint RUC and British Army patrol had stopped a tanker smuggling heating oil.

Twice.

The second time, the driver deliberately ran over the patrol commander, Corporal Gary Fenton, killing him.

The tanker was now just over the border. Close enough to see, too far to touch without permission.

I called for clearance to cross and engage.

Denied.

We pressed on anyway, right to the line, the invisible border.

The doorgunner was poised, finger curling around the trigger, waiting on my word. I looked at the road ahead, the tanker in full view, and called it off.

I told Charlie to take us back.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d spend the next two decades replaying that moment. The muscle memory screaming go. The rules saying no. Me stuck right between the two.

Every day since, I’ve lived with being stuck in the middle of that.

Gary’s death didn’t just drop into my logbook. It anchored itself there.

A man I never even met.












https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GX31T82L

One of the unexpected consequences of writing Unlucky Jim has been re-establishing contact with old friends.It has also ...
21/06/2026

One of the unexpected consequences of writing Unlucky Jim has been re-establishing contact with old friends.

It has also confirmed a worrying fact. While I may struggle to remember where I left my reading glasses five minutes ago, other people seem perfectly capable of producing photographic evidence of things I did thirty years ago.

The latest batch comes from Sean Tully, for which I am extremely grateful. Sean not only took the photographs in the first place, but somehow managed to keep hold of them for more than thirty years. Given the number of house moves, postings, deployments and general chaos that military life tends to involve, I’m amazed they survived at all. Frankly, Sean deserves a campaign medal just for his admin.

Looking at them now is a reminder of just how young we all were. We thought we were seasoned professionals. In reality, most of us were making it up as we went along and hoping nobody senior noticed.

They capture moments that seemed entirely routine at the time but now bring back memories of good friends, good soldiers and some remarkable experiences. A few of those friends are sadly no longer with us, which makes photographs like these all the more valuable.

So thank you, Sean. These arrived at exactly the right time and brought back a great many memories, most of them even fit for publication.

I hope you enjoy them.



https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GX31T82L

As a boy I was fascinated by the Phantoms of the Blue Angels, convinced there could be nothing more exciting than strapp...
16/06/2026

As a boy I was fascinated by the Phantoms of the Blue Angels, convinced there could be nothing more exciting than strapping into one of those magnificent machines and disappearing into the blue.

Life, as it often does, had other ideas. Many years later I found myself in the front seat of an Army Air Corps Lynx, weaving across Germany in close formation, listening to the calm, clipped voices of NATO air defence controllers with wonderfully enigmatic callsigns like ‘Lone Ship’, ‘Hard Tire’ and ‘Strawbasket’.

One of the more surreal stories I recount in Unlucky Jim involves ‘Lone Ship’ vectoring a pair of German Air Force Phantoms onto us for a bit of “trade”. It was all part of the game: fast jets trying to hunt down a low-flying helicopter doing its best to melt into the landscape. The little boy who stood behind the barriers at airshows, gazing up at those same aircraft in awe, could never have imagined that one day he would be on the receiving end of a Phantom intercept.

One of the reasons I love the Ulster Aviation Society is that, somehow, it has become a repository of my own flying career. Within its hangars are examples of every military aircraft type I flew: the Chipmunk, Gazelle, Lynx, the wonderfully eccentric Alouette III and, of course, the enigmatic Damian himself. Walking around the collection must be like leafing through an old photo album, each aircraft carrying memories of people, places and adventures that seem only yesterday.

I never did get to fly a Phantom, but I was fortunate enough to spend a career around some extraordinary aircraft and even more extraordinary people. Looking back, that turned out to be a pretty good deal.



https://www.amazon.com/dp/1764316800

Another blast from the past!
15/06/2026

Another blast from the past!

Ladies and gentlemen. We have something quite special to present very shortly.........if you liked the previous video, y...
08/06/2026

Ladies and gentlemen. We have something quite special to present very shortly.........if you liked the previous video, you're gonna love this..

07/06/2026

Every map has a story.

Every badge has a memory.

Some of the people who shared them never came home.

Unlucky Jim was written to remember them.

One of the many reasons for writing Unlucky Jim was not just to honour the aircrew we lost on exercises and operations w...
07/06/2026

One of the many reasons for writing Unlucky Jim was not just to honour the aircrew we lost on exercises and operations with the Army Air Corps, but also the soldiers, police officers and support personnel who served alongside us on the ground in South Armagh.

These photographs were arranged by my friend and fellow pilot, Denis Thornton, who, together with my son, recently visited Damian at the Ulster Aviation Society and captured these extraordinary images.

Like me, you will be reminded of friends who never came home.

The story is not just mine. It belongs to all those who served, often in difficult and dangerous circumstances, with little recognition and no expectation of thanks.

If Unlucky Jim achieves anything, I hope it helps ensure that they are not forgotten.

Oh! I have cut the stubborn skin of land
And skimmed the dust on rotor-beaten air,
Through wire and tree and ridge that test both eye and hand,
Where maps grow vague and judgement rules there;



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