Malvinas: Ambush of a Harrier

Ambush of a Harrier

The 20th of May did not bring any major change. The soaked Commandos gathered up their disordered and even damaged kit to load it into the helicopters, where at least the pilots and ground crew had been spared the full force of the elements. But this difference in comfort was accepted by all, since it was in the troops’ interest that the pilots should remain as clear-headed as possible. They were on the slopes of Mount Rosalía. Only at about ten in the morning did things improve a little and, despite the risk of colliding with some rise in the ground, the helicopters took off; after fifteen minutes of flying practically blind, they had to set down again. A new opportunity around midday took them to an abandoned little house to the south — Rosalie House — where they landed with all the security measures appropriate to the warning that had brought them there. At about two in the afternoon the weather cleared, and half an hour later they finally arrived at Port Howard, thirty kilometres away. The operation was carried out late in relation to the original warning about the possible presence of the enemy, based on signals detected four days earlier. Even so, Major Castagneto detached two Puma helicopters — each carrying a section — to reconnoitre to the north and north-west of Howard, to a depth of fifteen kilometres, which produced no visible results. Nor was it the first time the Commandos had been used, as they said, “to chase sheep”…

There was little daylight left, and 601 Commando Company prepared to spend the night in the settlement, which was occupied by 5th Infantry Regiment. At that point Major Yanzi, in charge of the four helicopters, decided to return to refuel. Castagneto had argued, in front of General Parada, commander of 3rd Brigade, and Lieutenant Colonel Reveand, commander of the Helicopter Company, that those aircraft had to remain with the Commandos and must not deprive them of mobility. Castagneto and Reveand became embroiled in a heated argument: the helicopter commander cited the risks, and the Commando commander replied that in war everything was risky, and that even a shoot-down was compatible with the missions they were carrying out:

“Much more than the dollars a helicopter may be worth, the life of one of my Commandos is worth, and he may need that aircraft!” exclaimed an enraged Castagneto.

But no reasoning could change Lieutenant Colonel Reveand’s stance, and Major Yanzi set off back to the capital, leaving the Company isolated at Howard, completely cut off from the likely British landing areas on Gran Malvina Islando (East Falkland). That night the forty men bivouacked in a shearing shed near the rudimentary jetty, where part of a section of Engineers was also billeted. There they endured the rigours of atrocious cold, made worse by a constant wind that intensified it, and by the damp that seeped up through the gaps in the floorboards.

At first light on Friday 21st, Captain Frecha went to identify the dominant points from which to establish the anti-aircraft ambush, which was set up near the command post of 5th Regiment, in the centre of the settlement, practically along a fence that divided two fields. At Port Howard the regiment’s only anti-aircraft defence consisted of .50 calibre (12.7 mm) machine guns, with limited effective range: eight hundred metres at most. The Blowpipe missiles, by contrast, were effective out to three thousand metres. Although that Infantry Regiment was deployed there with two sections from 3rd Engineer Company and elements of 3rd Signals Company, up to that point Howard had lived a life similar — as Castagneto put it — to that of “a quiet summer afternoon in some Argentine province”.

Further south, at the mouth of Malvinas Strait (Falkland Sound), 8th Infantry Regiment with 9th Engineer Company was encamped at Fox Bay. The Commandos’ anti-aircraft group took up position one hundred and fifty metres from the water, near where A Company was located, in the following order: Captain Ricardo Frecha towards the bay area, near a peat store; then First Lieutenant Sergio Fernández; and then Corporal Jorge Martínez as aiming unit no. 3, each one separated by twenty metres. Fernández remained unhappy in that team because, as the commander of an assault section and eager to lead it in war, he had had to give up that role in the interests of the whole. He felt frustrated in the ambition of his entire life: he was a mere aimer, performing a task that, in his view, could have been carried out by a non-commissioned officer…

But the role of the man in charge of a surface-to-air missile is not as subordinate as this officer, in his state of mind, made it out to be. First, the aimer must place himself along the likely line of flight the aircraft will take, given the characteristics of the terrain; and secondly he must stand fully exposed, without any protection, in order to fire as nearly head-on as possible, since, owing to the aircraft’s speed, the missile is hard to guide effectively if it passes across the front: beyond three thousand metres it becomes uncontrollable.

With the sun up, at about quarter past eight, the sound of helicopter rotors began to be heard. At first the Commandos thought they were friendly, because they were coming from the direction of Darwin–Goose Green; but shortly afterwards they spotted, far off over the Sound, an aircraft that was clearly overflying the area on a reconnaissance mission, which Argentine helicopters did not do, as they took the most direct route. Half an hour later it approached Shag Cove — a nearby inlet — and any doubts were dispelled: it was an armed British Lynx. It remained there for quite some time and then left relatively close by, at about four kilometres, but beyond the range of ground fire.

The Company commander went to the central communications post to establish contact with Port Stanley and find out whether the aircraft would be hunted. The sound of jet engines was then heard. It could only be an enemy aircraft, and First Lieutenant Fernández thought immediately: “We are going into action.” He looked at his watch: it was five minutes to ten. They quickly took up their firing positions, aiming to the south-east towards the far end of the bay (four kilometres away), from an excellent location with a wide field of fire. As it came into clearer view, all doubt vanished: it was the unmistakable silhouette of a Harrier, with its two wide air intakes and swept wings. It was approaching on a slightly oblique course, possibly to observe the coast better, and when it was three thousand metres away, Frecha and Fernández opened fire. The two missiles shot off in parallel, simultaneously, towards the target.

The aircraft was flying low over the water, twenty metres above the surface, when it suddenly banked to its right, towards the opposite shore closing the bay. The pilot had seen the attack and was manoeuvring evasively, and it looked as though he were about to smash into the heights on the far side of the bay. But after some three hundred metres on that heading, and without reducing speed, he changed course and flew at low altitude over Howard. The incredible manoeuvrability of the aircraft meant that the two missiles exploded along the strip of shore running beside the Sound. As it flew over the settlement, the men of 5th Regiment, taken by surprise, did not manage to fire at it, and the aircraft disappeared behind the hills inland.

The three men handling the missiles were relatively close to one another so they could communicate without radios, as both their hands were occupied. Close by stood Major Mario Castagneto, who had come to join them, also in the open. “Those were moments when you had to set an example,” he explained to me. Four or five minutes later, a second Harrier appeared from the same direction as its partner. As everyone was now on full alert, it was observed more carefully. Its approach seemed endless to the anti-aircraft team tracking it through their sights. They tried to ensure an accurate shot by letting it come closer, since the further away it was, the more chance it had to evade the missiles. They felt the twenty-one kilos’ weight of the Blowpipes, which had now been reloaded.

The aircraft was coming in more head-on than the previous one, flying low, at around seven hundred and fifty kilometres per hour, enough to allow it to manoeuvre comfortably around the hills. Despite the aimers’ composure, through the sight it looked enormous, very close. When the Harrier began to turn side-on, at a thousand metres, Frecha and Fernández fired their missiles almost diagonally. A moment later and the shot would have been inaccurate. Because of a technical fault in his missile — which veered out of control towards some houses — Captain Frecha had to bring it down, and it fell some twenty-five metres away (it later had to be blown up). Corporal Martínez had not fired. But First Lieutenant Sergio Fernández had, and an explosion briefly hid the enemy aircraft from sight.

“I have that instant image seared into my mind,” recalls Fernández, “the explosion and the nose of the aircraft emerging from it.” Once the guidance phase of the missile was over, he lowered the weapon to see the whole picture and assess the effect of his shot. Disappointed, he saw that the Harrier was still flying, “and it had not disintegrated in the air like confetti”. But it began to trail smoke, to roll, and a fraction of a second later its pilot ejected and his orange-and-white parachute opened. The fighter-bomber continued on its path and then crashed a short distance away, at the bottom of the bay.

Everyone’s excitement was intense: now the infantry had gone into action for the first time, because they were forewarned, and their conduct had been outstanding, given that they were raw conscripts. They fired at the aircraft with every weapon they had, even pistols. The noise of rifle fire was impressive, though of limited effect, with their commander, Colonel Mabragaña, setting the example by firing his FAL standing fully exposed. Shouts of triumph, the characteristic correntino sapucai cries, filled the air, sharply contrasting with the tears of the kelper children, the hysterical outbursts of their mothers and the nervous crises of their fathers, who came out of the houses in which they had taken refuge when the aircraft activity began. Shots were still being fired, because the soldiers, who had fired at the already damaged Harrier, now continued to shoot at the figure of its pilot…

Without losing a second, Major Castagneto and the medical officer, Captain Llanos, jumped on two motorbikes and headed towards the bay where the airman was floating. Officers, NCOs and soldiers ran after them, some shouting as they went for the firing to stop:

“Cease fire! Cease fire! You’re going to hit the pilot!”

Fortunately, the euphoria, the distance and the movement combined to prevent them from hitting him. But the freezing water is merciless, and when Doctor Llanos arrived first by motorbike near the bay and saw the British airman a hundred metres away, he had no option but to watch him, unable to swim out to him in those conditions.

Castagneto had branched off as they left the settlement, heading towards where the aircraft had crashed. At that moment the doctor spotted a boat, and an NCO from 5th Regiment who had reached the shore told him:

“I’ll go and get him!”

Helped by another comrade, the corporal rowed out to the downed pilot and between them managed to haul him aboard. When they reached the shore, several officers from the Commando Company — Llanos, Fernández, García Pinasco, Anadón — dragged him onto the beach along with his parachute and survival gear. The pilot had injuries to his face and a fractured left collarbone, as a result of his violent ejection from an aircraft travelling at full speed and banked over, which had caused him to slam into the side of the cockpit as he came out; he did not even have his helmet, which had shattered on impact. Although he was wearing a flying overall that gave him some protection from the water, he was almost frozen and struggled to speak; but at no point did he lose consciousness, to the extent that Sergio Fernández noticed that, as he sat up to get out of the boat, the pilot rubbed the transparent kneeboard on his right thigh — where aviators make their notes — with his hand, in order to erase the course written there. The Argentine officer managed to memorise the double group of numbers and letters and later reproduced them to report to Port Stanley.

Llanos, with his perfect command of English, identified himself as a doctor and, after asking about his injuries, he and Fernández tried to calm the prisoner:

“Are you okay, are you hurt? Don’t worry, we are friends now; take it easy.”

The pilot, without speaking, nodded with movements of his head. With the help of Staff Sergeant Poggi, they settled him on Llanos’s motorbike, and the doctor told him to hold on to him because he was going to take him to a hospital. Using the international sign used by aviators — thumb raised — the pilot indicated his agreement. First Lieutenant Fernández wrapped him in his jacket and they set off.

Meanwhile, Major Castagneto had headed towards the place where the Harrier had come down, some ten kilometres from Howard. He rode parallel to the narrowing bay, then crossed the river — “those bikes would do anything,” he told me — and, after a further stretch, reached the crash site half an hour later. “The largest piece I found was the wheel,” he said. “I even came to think it might be the remains of an aircraft from another era…”

In its final run, as it broke up against the ground, the aircraft had hit a horse, cleanly severing its neck so that the head lay a good distance from the body. Castagneto loaded all the pieces he could carry, which he thought might be important for intelligence analysis — including the communications equipment — and set off back. It was near midday, and the naval–air battle in San Carlos had already taken place.

Memories from an Intelligence Officer in Malvinas

 

 

Memories from My First Days in Malvinas

Account by First Lieutenant Echeverría – Intelligence Officer, RI-4

After the fall of Darwin — though I can't recall the exact date — a series of reports came in warning us about the British positions. They were advancing roughly twenty kilometres from our location. Between us and them, although we had some of our own troops, they were small groups, whose main task was to raise the alarm and report movements.

We had a number of experiences ourselves — like finding traces of British commando patrols very close to us. Direct contact didn’t happen simply because we never came face-to-face with them, but we did come across remains that clearly showed they’d passed through.

We already knew they were there, and like us, they were deploying people to gather intelligence. These patrols continued for a while without actual clashes, and we still hadn’t felt their artillery — except for the naval guns that fired at night, or during the day when there was heavy fog.

That’s when the anti-radar and anti-radio missiles began to appear — and hit us. At the same time, we started facing limitations in using our radar and radio systems. The interference was heavy, and the British even insulted us over the airwaves. They had tools and technologies we simply didn’t. Still, we didn’t believe they would beat us. We told ourselves: “They won’t be able to defeat us.” Among those I spoke to, the general feeling was: we had to fight with whatever we had — even stones if it came to that. Our weapons weren’t bad, but they required more careful handling than on the mainland, mainly due to the extreme humidity.

The cold changed everything, just like what happens to a car. It's not the same as having one in Buenos Aires compared to parking it in Ushuaia.

At Mount Kent, a small unit had to retreat with the British literally on their heels. They reached us with the enemy right behind. Our troops were going along one side of the hill, while the British were climbing up the other. That unit didn’t have enough manpower or weapons to hold off a serious attack.

By then, our own commandos had already engaged with the British on multiple occasions, but luckily many were recovered — wounded, yes, but alive.

Harriers came and went, mostly over Puerto Argentino, and the ships kept firing at us at night. As I said, we also found remnants of British commandos operating very close to our positions. That was the situation. We had already lost helicopters, which reduced our mobility, and also ships like the Carcarañá, the Isla de los Estados, and a Coast Guard vessel. Our commandos, operating deep behind enemy lines, told us about extensive British helicopter traffic. We could already hear them nearby on calm, dark nights.

One evening around eight o'clock, our commander returned from a command meeting in town and updated us on the situation. All options were considered, and there was no choice but to fight while retreating — or risk getting caught mid-manoeuvre. The plan was to regroup and make a stand at Mounts Dos Hermanas and Harriet.

We already had small detachments at Harriet. Think of it like using your hands to protect your body — we were the “hands” of Puerto Argentino. And when one of those hands starts to feel the heat, that’s where you focus your defences. Don’t overreact, but observe, and try to understand why the enemy is moving in that direction.

It was decided to change front and redeploy to Dos Hermanas and Harriet, where the regiment would hold its ground. The withdrawal had to be swift — lightning fast. A decision was made about what equipment to leave behind, and the rest — weapons, ammunition, medical supplies, all vital gear — had to be moved. We were assigned three helicopters for the operation. The idea was to move everything possible at night, gather heavy equipment in specific spots, and if the helicopters couldn’t carry it, to bring it down to where three lorries were waiting — and then transport the troops.

But just after 10 p.m., the ships started firing again, and on top of that, it began to snow. It was chaos. We had to suspend the descent from the hills for two valuable hours — it was dark, snowing, and under naval fire.

Fortunately, the ships shifted fire to another sector, the snow stopped, and a thick layer settled. Around three or four in the morning — keeping in mind that darkness lasts until eight — we resumed the descent. At first light, troops were loading lorries or moving on foot. Others were loading the helicopters. A small anti-air unit stayed behind to cover the operation.

The Harriers arrived just after the helicopters had departed — luckily — but they did strike our marching columns: troops moving along a road, lorries gathered in a clearly visible and exposed area. From our hilltop position, waiting for the helicopters, we opened fire on the Harriers with tracer rounds. I don’t know if we managed to bring one down, but we hit them repeatedly. Still, we never saw one fall.

The British planes flew over daily, at all hours. They photographed us — we even made faces at them. That’s the truth. They attacked with mixed results, mainly damaging storage areas and equipment. Some of our lorries were destroyed, and although we started taking casualties, at that point they were still light — mostly wounded.

Back to the Harrier attack I was mentioning — we had to suspend helicopter use, and the troops kept retreating — even if it meant crawling through the rocks. The whole withdrawal was extremely tough — like being caught at home in your pyjamas.

That same morning, while the Harriers were still attacking, a lone commando arrived from enemy territory — the only one left from his patrol. He gave us a clearer picture of where the enemy was and what movements they had made. He came back completely shattered, desperate to explain what he had seen. The rest of his patrol was still out there, ahead of our lines. In time, it was confirmed that some of those brave commandos had been killed, and others made it back, wounded, to our positions.

Vuelta de Obligado: Argentine Captured Flags

Flags Captured at Vuelta de Obligado

Revisionistas


 
Flag returned by Admiral Sullivan in 1883. Currently in the National Historical Museum of Buenos Aires.

The first flag shown in this article is of merchant origin and belonged to one of the 24 coastal vessels or barges that, chained together, were anchored at Obligado to block the passage of the Anglo-French fleet. It is one of those banners that came in various sizes and bore different Federalist symbols, but they were not Argentine war flags.

It was captured by the forces of Admiral D.B.J. Sullivan after the battle on 20 November 1845 and returned in 1883 by the same admiral at the Argentine legation in London. It was received by the Argentine consul Alberto A. Guerrico, as a tribute to the bravery shown by Colonel Ramón Rodríguez, who led the 2nd Battalion of the Patricios Infantry Regiment at the Battle of Vuelta de Obligado.

Sullivan confused Colonel Rodríguez with the heroic Lieutenant Colonel Juan Bautista Thorne, who was in charge of the “Manuelita” battery and was the last to retreat from the battlefield, on 21 November.

According to the British admiral’s account, when the flag was lowered by the British, it fell upon the bodies of the fallen and was stained with patriotic blood.

It measures 4 metres in length by 2.5 metres in width, like all large naval flags. Due to its dimensions and the absence of the mandatory slogans from the Rosas era, it does not conform to the regulations for Federalist war flags. Therefore, it did not belong to any battalion and was not considered a trophy—although the French believe otherwise. They had four similar flags in the Hôtel des Invalides in Paris (now the Army Museum), registered under numbers 329 to 333 in the catalogue of the Musée de l’Armée by General Noix, page 164, under the title Drapeaux et Trophées, with an excerpt from a document: the Procès-verbal de réception de cinq drapeaux pris au combat d’Obligado dans le Paraná.

The battle report from Obligado by Captain Hotham, a subordinate officer under Sullivan, does not mention the capture of any flags. Nor is there any record from Lucio N. Mansilla of any ensign being lost.

The author Martiniano Leguizamón addressed this subject in two articles published in the newspaper La Nación. Evaristo Ramírez Juárez, for his part, drew accurate conclusions in his work Las banderas cautivas, where he includes photographs of the chapel of St. Louis in the Hôtel des Invalides, showing those very poorly preserved flags, taken in the 1930s. Lieutenant Colonel Ramírez Juárez wrote:

“1st – The flags said to have been taken at Obligado by the French and British were likely from merchant ships requisitioned by Mansilla, or from others of the same kind.

2nd – No combat flags were captured from the Argentine land or naval forces that fought at Vuelta de Obligado.”.

Flag hanging from the central nave of the Chapel of St. Louis, Paris, France

Moreover, the official report by French Admiral Trehouart refers to “…several Argentine flags taken from the batteries and the vessels that formed the barricade (ships holding the chains).”

The flag taken by the French at Obligado is composed of three horizontal stripes: the top and bottom ones are turquoise blue, and the middle stripe is white with a red punzó sun in the centre. The sun features a face surrounded by 32 rays. In each of the four corners are red Phrygian caps with pikes or spears, made of flannel, cut out and sewn onto the flag.

The flag is made of flannel, not silk as was customary for national or war flags. Along the hoist side, it has a braided cord forming loops at both ends. It is held at the National Historical Museum in the city of Buenos Aires, under file number 2568, folder 326. It was donated by the Municipal Government of the City of Buenos Aires on 18 April 1891, under the designation: “Flag taken by the British at the Battle of Obligado.”

One of the merchant flags that was in Paris (number 330) was returned by French President Jacques Chirac during his visit to our country in 1999 and was received by the Director of the National Historical Museum, Dr Juan José Cresto. It is now housed in that museum and, undoubtedly, beyond its vexillological interest, it holds significant historical value. It is identical to the one returned by Sullivan.

Two other Argentine merchant flags from Obligado (numbers 329 and 331) are believed to have been lost during the Second World War, either during the German occupation of Paris or due to deterioration. The Army Museum decommissioned them in 1957. The fate of flags numbered 332 and 333 is unknown; they measured 2.40 m by 1.35 m and bore no distinctive features.

At present, there is an Argentine flag—without sun, Phrygian caps in the corners, or inscriptions—hanging from the central nave of the Chapel of St. Louis. It appears to be new or restored. Of the two remaining Argentine flags mentioned above, and given that diplomatic enquiries made to the French Embassy in Buenos Aires have failed to clarify the matter, could it be one of the original merchant flags from 1845, now restored? We do not know.

Source

Efemérides – Patricios de Vuelta de Obligado
Leguizamón, Martiniano – Hombres y cosas que pasaron – Buenos Aires (1926)
Peña, J. M. y Alonso, J. L. – Las banderas de los argentinos – Aluar, Buenos Aires (2009)
Portal www.revisionistas.com.ar
Ramírez Juárez, Evaristo – La estupenda conquista – Buenos Aires (1946)
Turone, Oscar Alfredo – Las banderas de Obligado

Argentina: The Rise of the Peronist Guerrilla

Genesis and Evolution of the Revolutionary Process in Argentina

  

Preliminary Considerations

Several articles have been written about the genesis and evolution of the Revolutionary War in our country, and it would seem redundant to revisit them, given that they all generally mention the same sequence of causes and effects. However, it is never superfluous, as it will always be possible to incorporate new information into what is already known regarding dates, organizations, events, people involved, etc.

Some define the stages of the revolutionary process within the political timeframes of the governments that emerged from electoral processes or military coups; others analyze the process marked by the attitudes and events generated by subversive organizations, or by the outcome achieved by the regular forces that confronted them. Personally, I believe, as have several others, that the analysis to determine the stages should be based on those episodes or events that represent a change or a significant situation between what has occurred and its continuation with the new events that are unfolding. The work to be developed here aims to fall within this framework.


OUTLINE
1. Introduction
2. Origins of the Guerrilla Movement (1955-1965)
3. Creation and Development of the Revolutionary Armed Organizations (1965-1970)
-Revolutionary Workers' Party-People's Revolutionary Army (PRT-ERP)
-Revolutionary Armed Forces (FAR)
-Peronist Armed Forces (FAP)
-Armed Forces of Liberation (FAL)
-Montoneros (currently in government)
4. Evolution of the Revolutionary Process – Periods of the War
a. First period (1970 – May 1973)
b. Second period (May 25, 1973 – end of 1974)
c. Third period (1975-1978) d. Fourth period (1978-80).
e. Last period (1980-88).
f. Current situation.

Development

1. Introduction
The Argentine Republic was the theatre of a revolutionary war (RW) that began to take shape in 1956, showed its first signs of guerrilla activity in 1959, escalated in 1970, and reached its peak intensity between 1973 and 1976.

Signs of a military defeat could be seen before May 1973. However, political and legal circumstances turned the successes achieved—through the application of precise and specific justice—into failure, as the relevant legislation was repealed. Revolutionary activity then re-emerged with greater force. Despite this, its annihilation was completed by 1980. However, the military success was not matched politically, and developments in that sphere extended until 1988, persisting in distorted forms to this day.

The objective of this revolutionary process was to seize state power in order to impose a political, economic, and social system—and indeed an entire way of life—that was foreign to our traditions, alien in nature, and opposed to our national values. Fortunately, this ideology ultimately garnered support from only a small minority of the population. Amid a fratricidal conflict, Argentina was able to escape that situation, though to this day, true pacification has not been achieved.

This revolutionary process was not born in Argentina. It was imported, infiltrated, adopted, and developed in the context of a world shaken by ideological movements first proclaimed by Marx and Engels, and later expanded in the 20th century by Lenin, Mao Tse-tung, and other communist theorists who aimed to establish a proletarian world through unlimited violence, national liberation movements, and the unified action of communist countries. These aims constituted the true objectives of the global revolution of that time—a revolution from which Argentina could not escape, due to the actions of both domestic ideologues and others known as “useful idiots.” These actors formed various revolutionary organisations, which will be discussed later, and took part in waging the war on the internal front.

These organisations had complex and clandestine structures, based primarily on a political apparatus for leadership, propaganda, and indoctrination, and an armed-military apparatus responsible for overtly violent, terrorist, and revolutionary actions, forming a true irregular army.

In response to these realities, it became necessary to deploy the armed forces and security services to confront these political and military organisations—this being the only way to prevent them from seizing power, which they could not achieve through legal or democratic means due to their lack of representation.

This course of action was not aimed at achieving a social goal, but rather a political-ideological-revolutionary one—namely, the seizure of power—regardless of the means or methods used, in accordance with their own revolutionary philosophy.

2. Origins of the Guerrilla (1955–1965)
Revolutionary war in Argentina had its genesis immediately after the fall of Perón. Beginning in September 1955, a group of activists known as the "Peronist Resistance", organised and led by John William Cooke—originally a nationalist, later turned Marxist-Leninist—carried out numerous acts of terrorism during the governments of the “Revolución Libertadora”, President Arturo Frondizi, and President Arturo Illia.

In 1959, in the province of Tucumán, several individuals were arrested while operating in the hills, attempting to launch “rural guerrilla” actions. This marked the emergence of a Peronist-aligned guerrilla group called the "Union of Andean Guerrillas", led by a former military officer named Ciro Ahumada. Another similar group, known as the “Uturuncos” (Tigers of the Sierra), operated under the command “17 de Octubre” and its “National Liberation Army”. Lacking support, these groups eventually dissolved but served as precursors to future organisations.

With Fidel Castro’s rise to global prominence, revolutionary momentum spread through Latin America, prompting agitation and violence in Argentina. In 1961, a revolutionary apparatus began forming in Santiago del Estero through the “Popular Indo-American Revolutionary Front” (FRIP), which later became a foundation for the Revolutionary Workers' Party (PRT), based on Trotskyist factions.

Che Guevara’s presence in Bolivia extended the revolutionary process in Latin America. In Orán, Salta, reports from locals and attacks against national gendarmerie personnel led to the discovery of an armed group equipped with automatic weapons, anti-tank weaponry, and explosives. In an abandoned camp, a "war diary" was found, in which guerrilla fighter Hermes Peña Torres (killed in a clash with the gendarmerie) described in detail the ambush of security forces—Orán Squadron—and the execution of two of their own members for violations of internal revolutionary discipline.

In 1964, another guerrilla camp was uncovered in Icho Cruz, Córdoba, named “Camilo Cienfuegos”. It was composed of seven young men with various weapons and explosives. The group, communist in orientation, was led by Juan Enrique Saleme, who had been trained in Cuba.

This period also saw numerous attacks and murders, such as:

• The attack on Captain Cabrera’s home, resulting in the death of his daughter and serious injury to one of his sons.

• The armed robbery of the banking polyclinic in Buenos Aires.

• The bombing of Shell Mex in Córdoba, which killed thirteen workers and injured several others.

• The discovery on 24 February 1964 of a new guerrilla camp in La Toma, Salta, operated by members of the “People’s Revolutionary Army” (ERP), aligned with Castroist-communist ideology.

• A major explosion in July 1964 on Posadas Street, Buenos Aires, where a guerrilla was killed while handling explosives. A terrorist cell was discovered, and documents revealed both past actions and planned operations.

These events—and many more—marked the first expressions of armed guerrilla warfare and laid the groundwork for what, in the 1970s, became the revolutionary war in Argentina. During this period, revolutionary organisations carried out more than 1,500 attacks. As a result, President Frondizi implemented the “Conintes Plan” (Internal Commotion), under which the armed forces were tasked—by executive order—with taking direct control of counter-terrorism efforts.

3. Creation and Development of Armed Revolutionary Organisations (1965–1970)
Between 3 and 13 August 1966, a meeting was held in Cuba named the “Tricontinental Conference of Havana”, attended by representatives of revolutionary movements and radical groups from Latin America, Asia, and Africa. At its conclusion, Latin American delegates met separately and, on 31 July 1967, established the “Latin American Solidarity Organisation” (OLAS), with the following main objectives:

• To promote armed revolutionary struggle in Latin America

• To coordinate strategy among revolutionary movements

• To foster solidarity among the peoples of the Americas, defending the Cuban revolution and similar movements across the region

As a result, clandestine armed organisations began forming across Latin America, including preparations for guerrilla warfare in Bolivia, led by Che Guevara and involving both foreign and local fighters.

To meet these goals, OLAS mandated the creation of a military apparatus in each country. In Argentina, the “National Liberation Army” (ELN) was established with the mission of operating in the north to support Che’s campaign in Bolivia. It was divided into three politically independent sectors—1, 2, and 8—which initially engaged in urban guerrilla actions.

With Che Guevara’s death in 1967 and Inti Peredo’s in 1969, guerrilla activity in Bolivia came to an end. The ELN was dissolved, and its three sectors returned to their respective organisations:

• Sector 1 joined the Revolutionary Workers’ Party (PRT), which, in addition to terrorism, promoted classist activity in factory unions such as SITRAM and SITRAC.

• Sector 2 formed the Armed Revolutionary Forces (FAR).

• Sector 8 split into two: one faction created the Montoneros trade union organisation via the group “Christianity and Revolution”; the rest joined the Peronist Armed Forces (FAP).

Meanwhile, a split in the Communist Party in 1967 gave rise to the Revolutionary Communist Party (PCR), whose armed wing became the Argentine Liberation Forces (FAL).

Within the PRT, two distinct factions emerged:

• El Combatiente, supporting armed struggle

• La Verdad, favouring a political solution

At its 5th Congress in 1970, the El Combatiente line prevailed, resulting in the formation of the armed wing: the People’s Revolutionary Army (ERP).

In 1973, the original Montoneros group and the FAR merged into a new organisation retaining the name Montoneros, chosen for its nationalistic appeal to the Peronist base.

4. Evolution of the Revolutionary Process – War Periods

a) First Period (1970 – May 1973)
The year 1970 clearly marked the beginning of a widespread and coordinated assault on the country’s institutions, social groups, and through specific acts of systematic and selective violence.

The three most powerful organisations emerged publicly, each committing major crimes:

• Montoneros: Kidnapped, tortured, and murdered former President General Pedro E. Aramburu on Army Day, 29 May 1970.

• FAR: Took over the town of Garín, Buenos Aires Province, on 30 July 1970.

• ERP: Raided Police Station No. 24 in Rosario, Santa Fe Province, killing two officers in September 1970.

During this period, the ERP’s terrorist activities were largely conducted by smaller cells focused on propaganda, recruitment, training, and strengthening logistical capacity.

Montoneros and FAR were meanwhile in talks to merge, aiming to infiltrate the political base loyal to Peronism and planning long-term strategies. Both were responsible for high-impact terrorist operations such as:

• The armed takeover of La Calera on 1 July 1970

• The attack, weapons theft (70 FAL rifles), and murder of Lieutenant Asúa in Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, on 29 April 1970

• The kidnapping and murder of FIAT Argentina president Oberdán Sallustro in Buenos Aires on 21 March 1972

• The ambush and assassination of the deputy commander of the army, General Juan Carlos Sánchez, on 10 April 1972

• The armed assault and theft of military materials from Communications Battalion 141 in Córdoba Province on 19 February 1973

 

From the perspective of the actions taken by the legal forces and the government, this period was highly significant, as it saw the drafting and implementation of special criminal legislation tailored to this type of activity. Through the work of the National Federal Criminal Court, the main leaders of terrorist organisations, along with nearly all subversive elements, were identified and prosecuted. This resulted in the imprisonment of six hundred terrorists and criminals, and the initiation of legal proceedings against more than one thousand individuals for similar offences. This could have marked the beginning of the end of the armed struggle.

However, that was not the case, as with the arrival of the constitutional government of Dr Cámpora, all these legal measures were repealed.

It is also worth noting that during this period, the fight against armed criminal activity was primarily carried out by police forces, with the support of certain elements from the security services.

b) Second period (25 May 1973 – late 1974)

On 25 May 1973, Dr Cámpora assumed the constitutional presidency and repealed the existing anti-subversive legislation, declaring a total amnesty for all individuals imprisoned for "political reasons".

This period was marked by intense urban guerrilla activity, including numerous attacks, assassinations, and takeovers of towns, largely carried out by the many criminals who had been released from prison. In addition, subversive infiltration penetrated most levels of the state, as well as various social sectors and organisations (including trade unions, student groups, and other intermediary bodies).

Cámpora’s resignation, the elections of 12 September, and the subsequent presidency of General Perón marked a turning point in the relationship between the ruling party—the Justicialist Party—and the subversive organisations. These groups found their political paths blocked and intensified their armed actions, returning to clandestine operations.

The actions carried out during this period reached such a level of magnitude and aggression that they seriously disrupted social order and shocked the population. 

Among the most significant events during this period were:

• The assassination of the Secretary-General of the CGT, José Ignacio Rucci, on 25 September 1973.

• The armed assault on the 10th Cavalry Regiment and the 1st Armoured Artillery Group in Azul, Buenos Aires Province. This involved the murder of Colonel Camilo Gay, his wife, and a soldier, as well as the kidnapping of Lieutenant Colonel Jorge Ibarzábal, who was later killed after a prolonged captivity (19 January 1974).

• The assassination of Federal Judge Jorge Quiroga—formerly a judge on the National Federal Criminal Court who had presided over trials of subversives—on 27 April 1973.

• The assassination of former Minister of the Interior, Dr Arturo Mor Roig, on 15 July 1974.

• The armed takeover, theft of weapons, kidnapping, and subsequent murder of Major Argentino del Valle Larrabure, at the Military Gunpowder and Explosives Factory in Villa María, Córdoba, on 12 August 1974.

• The kidnapping and extortion of Juan and Jorge Born, executives of the Bunge & Born company, who were released following the payment of a $60 million ransom, on 19 September 1974.

• The murderous attack on the Chief of the Federal Police, Commissioner General Alberto Villar, and his wife, in Tigre, on 1 November 1974.

 

At the same time, in Tucumán, the reconnaissance of the south-western area was completed in preparation for launching a rural guerrilla campaign. The ultimate goal was to declare the province—and its surrounding area—a “liberated zone”, which could potentially lead to international recognition. Beginning on 30 May 1974, with the takeover of the town of Acheral by the ERP company “Ramón Rosa Giménez”, the ERP began its open operations in Tucumán.

c) Third period (1975–1978)

On 9 February 1975, the Army launched “Operation Independence”, with the mission of neutralising and/or annihilating rural subversive activity in Tucumán. This was carried out under Presidential Decree 261/75, and the mission was accomplished after just over a year and a half.

On 23 December 1975, the ERP’s Ramón Rosa Giménez Company attempted to seize Arsenal Battalion 601 in Monte Chingolo. This operation, the most ambitious ever undertaken by the urban guerrilla movement, ended in defeat for the insurgents. It marked a serious blow to the PRT-ERP, leading to the beginning of the dissolution of that company.

The year 1975 represented the peak of revolutionary activity, with significant material and financial resources—largely obtained through foreign support, ransom payments, and robberies carried out within the country. Social unrest deepened as the population faced growing insecurity due to a wave of indiscriminate attacks.

Following the military’s assumption of power, the Armed Forces, Security Forces, and Police Forces intensified counter-revolutionary actions to restore order and bring about the definitive defeat of the irregular forces.

Among the most significant events during this period were:

• Attack on a C-130 Hercules aircraft in Tucumán, on 28 August 1975.

• Assault, killings, and theft of weapons from Infantry Regiment 29.

• Bombing of the Federal Security Superintendency in Buenos Aires on 2 July 1976, resulting in 22 deaths and 60 injuries.

• Bomb attack at the Military Circle cinema on 17 October 1976, injuring 50 people.

• Explosion at the Undersecretariat of Planning of the Ministry of Defence on 15 December 1976, which left 14 dead and several injured.

 

The actions of the regular forces in control, intelligence gathering, identification, and prevention led to a decline in revolutionary activity. By late 1976 and throughout 1977, the terrorist organisations began to disintegrate—initially the PRT-ERP, and later the Montoneros. The leaders of these organisations either fled abroad, were killed in open combat with legal forces (as was the case with Mario Roberto Santucho, head of the ERP, in July 1976), or committed suicide to avoid capture.

d) Fourth period (1978–1980)

In 1978, the main focus of the Montoneros was to interfere with preparations for and the hosting of the FIFA World Cup, through an intensive campaign carried out in Western Europe aimed at discrediting Argentina and deterring tourism.

At the same time, the PRT-ERP formed the so-called "ERP Support Command", which re-entered the country to carry out acts of sabotage. However, it was completely neutralised.

That same year, the Montoneros also began preparing what they called the “Counteroffensive Maneuver”. Between January and April 1979, specialised groups arrived clandestinely in Argentina to conduct shock operations, agitation, and propaganda. These groups, known as TEA and TEI, were responsible for three major attacks:

• The attack and destruction of the home of Dr G. W. Klein, injuring members of his family, on 29 September 1979

• An attack on Dr Juan Alemán, on 7 November 1979

• The assassination of engineer Guillermo Soldatti, on 13 November 1979

At the same time, a psychological campaign was launched abroad, aimed at achieving international isolation of the Argentine Republic.

e) Final period (1980–1988)

After the failure of the Counteroffensive campaign, the Montoneros—like the PRT-ERP—decided to abandon armed struggle and pursue their goals through political means.

Following the decision in July 1982 to restore constitutional order in Argentina, the Montoneros resolved to reintroduce their militants into the country, seeking to infiltrate the Justicialist Party (PJ). Their aim was to represent their organisation within the party by appealing to the idea of Peronist unity. This involved a shift in strategy, with a deliberate effort to rebrand themselves from a guerrilla force to a political group.

Despite this repositioning, the PJ maintained a place within its internal structure for revolutionary Peronism, regarding it as the vanguard of a mass movement.

Meanwhile, the PRT reorganised its ranks and entered a period of party reconstruction, which it declared complete during its 7th Congress, held in Argentina in April 1987. From that point on, the PRT aligned itself with the Broad Front for National Liberation (FRAL), led by the Communist Party.

f) Current situation

Analysing the current situation requires a separate and specialised study, as it falls outside the immediate context of this work—not only because of the changes experienced by society itself, but also due to the influence of international forces in the internal affairs of individual countries.

Nevertheless, it can be stated that within the national and political sphere, there is a clear tendency among radical and subversive groups, including so-called front organisations, to seek legal recognition. This would allow them to keep their activity alive, placing them in the best possible position to resume the struggle should conditions permit.

On the international level, this strategy reflects the doctrine of “non-armed approximation”, which in Argentina is being pursued primarily through labour and trade union groups, considered the most likely sectors to initiate armed struggle in the form of a mass urban insurrection.


O. E. Guerrero (Brigadier General, Ret.)

Lamadrid, the Bravest of the Brave

The Bravest of the Brave

Domingo Faustino Sarmiento once said of him:

“General Lamadrid is one of those natural-born figures of the Argentine land. At the age of 14, he began waging war against the Spaniards, and the feats of his romantic bravery go beyond the limits of possibility: he has been in a hundred and forty encounters, in all of which Lamadrid’s sword emerged nicked and dripping with blood; the smoke of gunpowder and the neighing of horses drive him into ecstasy, and as long as he can slash everything before him—cavalry, cannons, infantry—it matters little to him whether the battle is won or lost.

I said he is a natural type of this country, not for his fabulous courage alone, but because he is both a cavalry officer and a poet. He is a kind of Tyrtaeus, inspiring soldiers with war songs—the same bard I mentioned in the first part; he is the gaucho spirit, civilized and devoted to freedom. Sadly, he is not a 'square' general, as Napoleon required; bravery outweighs his other qualities by a hundred to one.”

They say he was an inveterate candy eater.
He was terrified of water and did everything possible to avoid boarding boats and ships.
He would sing vidalitas to his soldiers before battles.

When San Martín took command of the Army of the North in early 1814, replacing Manuel Belgrano—recently defeated at Vilcapugio and Ayohuma—the Dragoon Captain from Tucumán, Gregorio Aráoz de Lamadrid, served as aide-de-camp to the future Condor of the Andes.

He was present in Tucumán and Salta. Also at Vilcapugio and Ayohuma.
And when he became entangled in the fratricidal civil wars between Unitarians and Federalists, fate took him to a place called El Tala.
There, fortune turned against him.
It was 1827. And he was nearly killed in that battle.

He received eleven saber blows to the head; his nose was broken and the tip dangled over his upper lip. His right ear, nearly sliced in two, hung by a thread of skin. Another slash severed the biceps of his left arm, and a bayonet struck deep into his shoulder blade.

When he fell to the ground, still gripping his saber, they clubbed him with rifle butts, trampled him with their horses, and broke his ribs. As they stripped him of his weapons and clothing, Lamadrid summoned his last strength and shouted, as best he could, that he would not surrender.
His body bathed in blood, they finished him off with a shot to the back.
They left, believing he was dead.

But he survived—against all odds.
And earned the nickname: “The Immortal.”

General Gregorio Aráoz de Lamadrid was born on November 28, 1795, in Tucumán.

A daguerreotype of the General reveals the true face of the warrior.
And a photograph of the bullet that was removed from his back—the one that shattered his shoulder blade—is on display at the National Historical Museum.

 

Malvinas: Bombs Away! (Part 2)

Bombs Away! (Part 2)

The second part of An intimate, marvellous and moving account by Mr Captain JOSÉ NICOLÁS PAGANO
(Navigator of a Canberra aircraft)
ACCOUNT DATE: 4 June 1982

The story continues...

We were flying on a bombing mission.
Above the clouds, there was a huge moon and a dark blue sky; we levelled out.
I was tracking the navigation minute by minute, occasionally "drifting" to thoughts of my wife and kids.

— N: Oxygen.
— P & N: Sufficient, two lines flowing normally.
— N: Electrics.
— P: 28 volts, all dark, generator lights off.
— N: Engines.
— P: RPM, pressure, and temperatures all normal.

After the silence that followed the checks, the radar from Puerto Argentino, operated by Major SILVA, called us. He would be our guide to the target and would alert us if we were intercepted.
— No hornets (enemy fighters).



One less worry — only the Sea Dart missiles from the frigates remained a threat. Perhaps the absence of “hornets” was thanks to the tireless work of the beloved “FÉNIX” Squadron.
We flew over the cushion of clouds far below. We entered the island via the Federal Peninsula.

— Open bomb bay doors.
— PUMA - RADAR, confirm heading for final run, looks like they’re spreading slightly.
— Affirmative, final run heading 140°.
— LINCES - RADAR, stand by... 1 and 2, fire range... NOW! ... Number 3, correct 5° to the right, perfect ... standby ... NOW!

Eighty seconds of flight — and the eighteen bombs from the “LINCE” were released. The “PUMA” bombs followed right behind.
Below us, the thick cushion of clouds lit up with the glare of the explosions.

— LINCES and PUMAS - RADAR: GOOD HIT!!! Stay calm, no hornets, and thank you.
— Thanks to you for the support. (A Quechua accent)
— Let’s thank the Lord God!!!



I began to entrust the fallen enemies and their families to God — for we truly dropped those bombs without hatred — when the calm, battle-hardened voice of the radar operator warned us:
— Attention “LINCES” and “PUMAS”, hornets on the tail of the “PUMAS”, 25 miles... 23... go full throttle and try to climb if you can.
— “PUMAS” going full throttle.
— 20 miles... 19... stay calm, I think they’re turning back... 18 miles... they’re no longer closing in... they’re turning back.

Ten relieved sighs echoed inside our oxygen masks.
From their baptism of fire, our noble birds had cleansed their “Original Sin” of having been born in the land of the usurpers (the Canberra aircraft is of British origin).

Again, the alarmed voice!
— Attention, the returning “LINCE” is alone, it has a radar echo ahead at 15 miles, turn immediately to starboard, heading 290°.

We all turned hastily. I miscalculated nervously and dropped the chaff (a rudimentary electronic countermeasure) and a flare — which exploded and made the pilot think it was a missile. I earned quite a few "congratulatory" remarks (they remembered my mother) for not giving prior warning.



Once more, the radar chimed in during those tense moments:
— It’s disappeared — must’ve been a missile.

We kept flying, now more relaxed.
— LINCE “ONE” to “TWO”, I’ve lost an engine.

Due to power loss, we all overtook him — he fell to the rear of the formation, but he was still flying.

We landed...
The Canberras had completed yet another mission!
I embraced Warrant Officer LUIS SÁNCHEZ, an old armourer, as the night filled with cheers and caps flying through the air.

Before falling asleep with the rosary between my fingers, I thought about those fighting, those giving what little they had, the pride of the families of those who fought with honour, and a friend’s home where their children prayed each night for our dead — and theirs — and asked God “so the English wouldn’t steal the Malvinas from us again.”

Mount Longdon: The Letter of Private Albert Petrucelli

The Letter of Private Alberto Petrucelli (7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment)

Malvinas 1982

This is the story of a letter that was never sent to its addressee, written by the Argentine soldier Alberto Daniel Petrucelli before he was killed in action during the Battle of Mount Longdon, in the Malvinas, in 1982.




Although this letter did not come directly into my hands, I learned about it thanks to the kindness of Malvinas veteran Fernando Arabio. We got chatting after I posted on social media about the circumstances in which Sergeant Ian McKay, a British soldier of the 3rd Battalion of The Parachute Regiment, was killed while assaulting Argentine positions on Mount Longdon on the night of 11–12 June 1982. The Argentine soldier Alberto Daniel Petrucelli had been born on 18 October 1962 in the Federal Capital, and in the Malvinas he formed part of the First Rifle Group, Second Section, B “Maipú” Company, 7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment “Coronel Conde”.

The letter is addressed to Nancy, Alberto Petrucelli’s girlfriend, and is dated 29 May 1982. It is possible that he wrote it at a moment when he was left on his own because Corporal Gustavo Pedemonte, the group commander, and soldiers Enrique Ronconi (A Team Leader) and Felipe Ramírez (B Team Leader) had gone out on patrol to carry out a forward observation on the Murrell River. It is written on a sheet of Government Telegraph Service, Falkland Islands, stationery which Corporal Pedemonte himself had given him. Pedemonte in turn had received it from another soldier who had managed to get hold of some of the stationery that was seized in the house of the British governor Rex Hunt after Operation Rosario.



In the letter “from a hero to his official girlfriend” (as he himself headed it), Private Petrucelli conveys his deep love for his girlfriend and other feelings he was harbouring, from a strong faith in God and in the Virgin who protected him, to uncertainty about how events would unfold, which had remained unchanged since 1 May. Not least is his mention of that very day on which he was writing, when he was delighted to see snow start to fall and then disappointed shortly afterwards because the snow turned into British shells. The paragraph begins by telling her that he was well and that he would stay “escondidito” (“nicely hidden”), just as she had asked him to do in previous letters. However, in another passage of the letter Petrucelli wrote that he felt like crying but did not, because he “made himself strong and felt like a man”.



During the assault on the Argentine positions, carried out by the 3rd Battalion of The Parachute Regiment, Privates Alberto Petrucelli and Enrique Ronconi together with Corporal Gustavo Pedemonte brought down Sergeant Ian McKay, who fell on the edge of the foxhole they occupied. An hour later Private Julio Maidana joined the position and began refilling the magazines with two or three rounds at a time so that they could keep firing without delay. The three soldiers died heroically when a grenade managed to get into the foxhole and its explosion killed them. Corporal Pedemonte, who was at one end of the hole and shielded by the bodies of the soldiers, was hit by shrapnel in a leg and a buttock but survived. Afterwards, when the British soldiers who had approached the position moved away, he was able to climb out of the foxhole to seek help desperately for his men.

Private Gareth Rudd, belonging to the machine-gun team of 3rd Section, 2nd Platoon, A Company, 3rd Battalion The Parachute Regiment, told his comrade David J. Reeves that after the assault on Mount Longdon the British held firm in their defensive positions to protect themselves from the Argentine field artillery fire that was pounding them. Later, he went out with another soldier to patrol the northern side of Mount Longdon and they discovered the bodies of Sergeant Ian McKay and of the soldiers who had died with him while assaulting an Argentine position that had been very well constructed. They searched the position and found the bodies of three Argentine soldiers, pulled them out of the foxhole and laid them alongside the fallen British. The Argentine soldiers were better equipped with clothing and boots for the climate of the Malvinas, and as it was bitterly cold, Gareth Rudd took the duvet from one of the dead soldiers in an attempt to keep himself warmer. He then informed a non-commissioned officer about the bodies they had found and went back to his own shelter, as the Argentine artillery fire had started up again.



Gareth Rudd was part of the group of British soldiers who wrapped that whole group of dead British and Argentine soldiers in ponchos. It was not until he reached Puerto Argentino and settled with other soldiers in one of the houses that, when checking the pockets of the duvet, he discovered the letter from Alberto Petrucelli to his girlfriend Nancy. The letter ended up being kept in a wardrobe where he also had photographs, newspaper cuttings, maps and his own correspondence with his family.

More than forty years later, Mr David J. Reeves got in touch with Fernando Arabio and sent him the letter and the note in which his comrade Gareth Rudd told him how he had found it. Fernando managed to contact Mrs Nancy, who now lives in Chile with her family. At first, Mrs Nancy agreed to receive the letter, but in the end she decided not to, perhaps because of the memories it would stir up. Fernando then contacted Gustavo Pedemonte and the letter was donated to be placed on public display in the Museum of the 7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment.