GC-83 Río Iguazú: The Cutter that did not Surrender

The icy winds of the South Atlantic cut like blades against the skin of those brave sailors aboard the Río Iguazú. They were not on a warship. They had no armor, no firepower comparable to that of a destroyer, no speed to match that of a frigate. They were men of the Argentine Coast Guard, servants of the sea, embarked on a mission that, unbeknownst to them, would turn them into legends.

Since their arrival at Puerto Argentino (previously Stanley) on April 13, 1982, the GC-83 Río Iguazú had eluded the invisible threat of British nuclear submarines. A small, agile vessel designed for coastal patrols, it now sailed defiantly in those hostile waters, ready to fulfill its duty. On May 22, with the war already raging and the blood of battle still fresh on the Malvinas soil, it was given a critical mission: to transport two 105mm Oto Melara howitzers from Puerto Argentino to Darwin. These artillery pieces would be vital for the defense of the Argentine troops who, just days later, would fight bravely in Goose Green.

Under the command of Sub-Prefect Eduardo Adolfo Olmedo, the Río Iguazú set sail in the early hours of that fateful day. Fifteen men on board. Fifteen souls devoted to their country. They knew they were sailing in enemy-controlled waters. War offered no mercy, and neither would their adversaries. At 08:20, the ship’s radio crackled to life, delivering a chilling message: Red Alert!

The attack came instantly. Two British Sea Harrier jets swooped down from the gray sky, their roar shaking the very air. The men on deck barely had time to react before a storm of fire rained down upon them. The 30mm cannons ripped through the ship’s hull, destroying navigation equipment and sowing chaos aboard. In the engine room, Second Corporal José Raúl Ibáñez fought desperately against the flooding that threatened to doom the vessel. But the damage was beyond repair—the water was rising fast.

On deck, resistance had a name and a face. Julio Omar Benítez, the youngest crew member, manned one of the ship’s two 12.7mm machine guns, the only defense against the enemy aircraft circling above like hawks. But fate was merciless. A British volley struck him down where he stood. His body collapsed beside the weapon he had so valiantly fired. Nearby, Juan José Baccaro and Second Corporal Bengochea lay wounded, their blood soaking the deck.

The Río Iguazú was critically damaged, but it would not surrender. Olmedo, his resolve unshaken, ordered a desperate maneuver—set course for the nearest islet, zigzagging to evade another deadly pass from the Harriers. Every second counted.

And then, Ibáñez, his heart pounding with rage and grief, made a decision that would change everything. Leaving the flooded engine room, he climbed to the deck and rushed toward the unmanned machine gun. With swift hands, he pulled his fallen comrade’s body aside and gripped the weapon. His eyes locked onto the sky.

A Harrier was lining up for the final strike. Ibáñez held his breath. He squeezed the trigger. A hail of bullets erupted, tracing a path of fire through the air. The aircraft, caught in the storm of gunfire, began spewing thick black smoke. For a brief, eternal moment, it seemed to hover in midair, before gravity took its toll—it plunged into the sea, vanishing beneath the icy waves.

The surviving Harrier pilot, seeing the fate of his wingman, turned away and disappeared over the horizon.

The battle was over. The humble patrol boat had struck down a titan.

Severely damaged, the Río Iguazú was deliberately beached on a nearby islet to save the remaining crew. The survivors were later rescued and taken to Darwin, where, on May 24, with full military honors, Julio Omar Benítez was laid to rest. His sacrifice had not been in vain. The artillery pieces that the Río Iguazú had been transporting were salvaged and flown to Darwin, where they would play a crucial role in the upcoming battle.

Thus ended the journey of the patrol boat that dared to defy the impossible. It was not a warship. It was not a heavily armed frigate. But it was Argentine. And that was enough to carve its name into history.