Military planes fly over Spanish cities and fuel suspicions

The army flying over Spain without explaining the bill

A grey camouflaged transport aircraft of the Spanish Air Force, of unusual dimensions, cruises the sky over Vigo and approaches the airport runway, as reported by Faro de Vigo. In the debate thread, several participants say they have seen fighters over Guadalajara, helicopters in La Rioja, military vehicles in Zaragoza and an Airbus A330-200 circling half of Spain to be converted into a refuelling aircraft. Military activity over urban areas is the focus of criticism from those who doubt the official explanation —training— and the cost to the taxpayer.

The news, published by Faro de Vigo, describes a large joint training exercise of the three armed forces involving more than 2,000 personnel. Up to that point, routine. What strikes the participants is the coincidence: a price crisis, electricity bills, sky-high diesel prices and, in the background, an air deployment that many read as a message. The question they raise is not so much what those planes are doing as who pays for the fuel and why now.

From Vigo to Guadalajara: the map of the flyovers

The witnesses' accounts paint a country with unusual military activity. In Vigo, a large aircraft approaches the airport; in Guadalajara, according to one participant, there are fighters every day; in La Rioja, another says he saw three military helicopters heading towards the Obarenes mountains; in Zaragoza, military vehicles are reported in civilian areas and on motorways, with exercises at San Gregorio since November. For some participants, the sum is not a one-off exercise, but a routine sustained over time.

The most frequently cited argument to justify the deployment is training. Some point directly to the 12 October parade as a rehearsal. But for those who doubt, the schedule does not add up: the exercises go on for weeks in very scattered locations. The parade explanation would work for a weekend, not for two months of activity.

The detail they comment on most concerns a specific aircraft: an Airbus A330-200 bought from IAG at near-new price to be converted into a refuelling plane, a programme that, according to one participant, is delayed due to lack of money. The aircraft flies around without having been converted. The same participant wonders what the Spanish Air Force is going to refuel, given that the Eurofighters even Germany does not want, the museum-piece F-18s and the 1981 Harriers —whose aircraft carrier was sold as scrap— are not fit for missions.

How much does the fuel for these exercises cost?

There is no official figure in the available material, but several participants do the maths: a transport aircraft burns several thousand litres per flight hour. Multiply that by daily flights in several regions and weeks of activity. The result, with diesel and electricity prices through the roof, is a bill that, in their view, the taxpayer pays while families tighten their budgets. One participant provides the irony: "With the rise in diesel and electricity prices, we're probably paying for the fuel of the military that trains for war".

That is the point where the debate stops being technical and becomes political. Defence spending is justified, according to some, by the war in Ukraine, but the public is not quite buying the story. The price crisis came first and has more prosaic causes. The fact that it now mixes with military exercises over cities generates a suspicion that is hard to dispel: that the noise of the fighters serves to drown out the noise of the shopping basket.

The noise thesis: training or staging?

Part of the analysis holds that the deployment has a psychological function: getting the population used to an atmosphere of international tension that justifies cuts, price rises and social discipline. The parallel drawn is explicit: what were empty ambulances with sirens during the pandemic would now be military planes flying over urban areas. The theory is not backed by evidence and is put forward by some participants, but it explains why so many people look at the sky with distrust.

At the opposite extreme, there are those who read the flights as real preparations. Galician geography enters into that calculation: Vigo and A Coruña as northern ports of Europe, Ferrol for its naval base, Marín for its naval school. The ria of Vigo, with the Cíes islands blocking the entrance and its muddy bottom, is a refuge for ships. The hypothesis of a renewed strategic interest in the Atlantic coast is not confirmed by anyone.

One testimony adds an ingredient that sets off all the alarms: US embassy military personnel would have been at the port of Vigo gathering information about the ria, geomorphology included. The account is second-hand and the person telling it admits he does not give it credence. It should be treated as what it is: a circulating story, not a verified fact.

The gold of the ria and other legends that return with wars

No conversation about Vigo and the war is complete without the gold. The ria holds the legend of the 1702 fleet, sunk with its cargo. The participants who discuss it maintain that the ships were unloaded before being set on fire, and that the Santo Cristo de Maracaibo sank outside the Cíes islands while being towed. The muddy bottom and poor visibility have done the rest. The idea that someone is looking for ingots underwater is more literature than geology.

The yacht of a Russian magnate that spent the summer in the ria feeds the fantasy. There is no data connecting it with anything. But in times of war, any ship with a suspicious flag becomes the protagonist of a spy novel. Curiosity is free; so is rigour.

The geography of a nuclear attack: why Vigo is not a priority

Antiestéticar of a nuclear attack runs through the thread. Strategic logic, as one participant puts it, orders the priorities: Madrid, Morón, Torrejón, Rota, Zaragoza, Cartagena. Six warheads would be enough, in his view, to decapitate the country. Galicia, with its ports and naval base, would be a secondary target. The subsequent collapse —months eating whatever is available— would be the real pavor, not the direct impact.

That calculation does not comfort those who live in the Val Miñor, twenty minutes from Vigo. The feeling of vulnerability is real even if the probability is low. And there the debate becomes existential: is it worth training for a war that cannot be won while the electricity bill keeps rising?

The ending is not written. The exercises continue, the planes keep flying and no one has given an explanation that fully convinces. If recent history teaches anything, it is that the official story changes faster than the budgets.