Showing posts with label ARA V-2 "25 de Mayo". Show all posts
Showing posts with label ARA V-2 "25 de Mayo". Show all posts

Saturday, December 14, 2024

Beagle Crisis: The Beagle/Cape Horne Air Naval Battle


Beagle Crisis: The Fleets Face Off in the Southern Sea


By Esteban McLaren for FDRA

On December 22, 1978, D-Day, coordinated military actions along the borders with Chile would have commenced as part of Operation Sovereignty. It is difficult to determine with certainty which of the planned actions would have officially initiated the war, but it is clear that a simultaneous assault on at least four fronts would have taken place. The primary front would have been the naval battle and landing in the Beagle Channel, where the Argentine Navy's Marine Corps (IMARA) would have deployed troops to the Lennox, Nueva (already occupied by Chilean Marine Corps, CIM), and Picton Islands.

The purpose of this article is to explore an alternative history scenario. The war never took place, but what would have happened if Argentina had not accepted papal mediation?

In December 1978, tensions between Argentina and Chile over the sovereignty of the Picton, Lennox, and Nueva islands in the Beagle Channel reached a critical point. Diplomacy had failed, and both countries were preparing for armed confrontation. The Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR), with its powerful combination of aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, and submarines, was preparing to face the Chilean Navy (ACh), a well-equipped force but at a numerical and technological disadvantage. Chilean authors speculate that in terms of infantry, Argentine forces roughly doubled the Chileans in size; in terms of armored vehicles, the ratio was 5:1; for aircraft, 3:1; and in naval strength, Argentina was slightly superior in some aspects (surface combatants), decisively superior in others (submarines operating in the area), and qualitatively unmatched in yet another (aircraft carriers).



Order of Battle as of December 20, 1978

Chilean Navy (ACh)

  • Main Ships:

    • Tre Kronor-class light cruiser: Almirante Latorre.
    • Brooklyn-class light cruiser: Capitán Prat.
    • Almirante-class destroyers: Almirante Riveros, Blanco Encalada, and Cochrane.
    • Leander-class frigates: Almirante Williams, Almirante Condell, and Almirante Lynch.
    • Fletcher-class destroyers: Blanco Encalada (DD-14) and Cochrane (DD-15).
    • Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer: Ministro Portales.
  • Submarines:

    • SS Simpson, the only operational submarine, as the Oberon-class submarines were undergoing major maintenance.
  • Naval Aviation:

    • AS-332 Super Puma helicopters.

Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR)

  • Main Ships:

    • Aircraft carrier: ARA Veinticinco de Mayo.
    • Brooklyn-class cruiser: ARA General Belgrano.
    • Type 42 destroyer: ARA Hércules.
    • Gearing-class destroyer: ARA Py.
    • Allen M. Sumner-class destroyers: ARA Comodoro Seguí, ARA Bouchard, and ARA Piedrabuena.
    • Fletcher-class destroyers: ARA Rosales (D-22), ARA Almirante Domecq García (D-23), and ARA Almirante Storni (D-24).
    • A69-class corvettes: ARA Drummond and ARA Guerrico.
  • Submarines:

    • ARA Santiago del Estero, ARA Salta, ARA San Luis, and ARA Santa Fe.
  • Naval Aviation:

    • 8 A-4Q Skyhawk aircraft aboard the carrier, with one on 24/7 interceptor alert on the flight deck. The interceptor on deck intercepted a CASA 212 maritime patrol aircraft stationed at Puerto Williams twice.
    • SH-3 Sea King helicopters.



2. Qualitative and Quantitative Analysis of Both Fleets

Chilean Navy (ACh)

  • Qualitative:

    • High defensive capability with frigates equipped with Exocet missiles.
    • Limited submarine capacity, with only one operational submarine.
    • Good coordination between surface and air units.
  • Quantitative:

    • 2 light cruiser
    • 3 frigates
    • 6 destroyers
    • 1 operational submarine

Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR)

  • Qualitative:

    • Air superiority with the aircraft carrier Veinticinco de Mayo.
    • Greater submarine capacity with 4 operational submarines.
    • High force projection capability with modern destroyers and frigates.
  • Quantitative:

    • 1 air carrier
    • 1 light cruiser
    • 8 destroyers
    • 2 missile corvettes
    • 4 submarines

 

Conflict Escalation

The conflict did not de-escalate; on the contrary, it worsened. The Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR) decided to launch an attack on the Chilean Navy, which quickly set sail from Valparaíso heading south toward the Beagle Channel. The last detected position of FLOMAR was 120 miles (some sources cite 193 miles) southwest of Cape Horn, preparing to support Operation Sovereignty, whose primary objective was the amphibious landing and capture of the Picton, Lennox, and Nueva islands.



 

Capabilities Analysis

Chilean Navy (ACh)
The ACh possessed a light cruiser, destroyers, and frigates, all equipped with anti-air and anti-submarine defense capabilities. However, operational issues with the SS Simpson left the fleet without effective submarine coverage, a critical disadvantage in modern naval warfare.

Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR)
FLOMAR, on the other hand, had the advantage of the aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo, which provided air superiority with its A-4Q Skyhawks. The modern destroyers and multiple operational submarines gave FLOMAR a robust capacity for both defense and attack.

 


Key Points of Advance and Refuge Locations for the Chilean Navy (ACh)

To reach the Beagle Channel, the Chilean fleet would advance southward from Valparaíso, passing through Puerto Montt, the Chacao Channel, the Gulf of Penas, Bahía Inútil, and the Strait of Magellan, before heading toward the Beagle Channel. If refuge were needed, Chilean fjords such as the Última Esperanza Fjord, Quintupeu Fjord, Aysén Fjord, or Comau Fjord would serve as strategic locations to hide and launch counterattacks.

Quintupeu and Comau Fjords

 
Última Esperanza Fjord or Sound

Final Approach to the Beagle Channel (or Cape Horn)


The upper map shows the route of the Chilean fleet according to official Chilean and Argentine bibliographies.

Note that the Chilean fleet’s course passed over the position of the ARA Santa Fé submarine because it had detected them precisely days before December 21. In other words, the enemy fleet had already been detected and followed by a submarine of the Argentine Submarine Force (CFS). The fleet was heading south of Cape Horn to combat stations, with two ships anchored side by side, awaiting orders to attack. The ships were arranged in this manner to allow for personnel exchange and social interaction while waiting (Arancibia Clavel & Bulnes Serrano, 2017). We will return to this point later.

Detection and Engagement Strategies

The Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR) would employ its S-2 Tracker and P-2 Neptune aircraft for reconnaissance missions (as they would successfully do four years later in the Malvinas), and the A-4Q Skyhawks for attacks, while Argentine submarines would ambush Chilean ships at critical points in the Strait of Magellan and the Drake Passage. FLOMAR’s destroyers and frigates would provide fire support and anti-aircraft defense to protect amphibious and heliborne assault operations.

Once again, it is enlightening to refer to the "official" account of the Chilean fleet’s movements (Arancibia Clavel & Bulnes Serrano, 2017). In this text, it is detailed how Chilean officers trained on a land-based simulator (this is not a joke) called Redifon, which consisted of interconnected cubicles simulating ships, and practiced maneuvers in the basement of the Tactical Training Center of the Naval War Academy in Valparaíso. Merino and López, practicing on this analog simulator, tried various attack combinations on the FLOMAR and concluded that they had to achieve "control of the sea," aiming for a decisive naval battle in the style of Mahan. The outcome of these exercises determined an optimal attack formation where "all missile-equipped ships would go ahead, with gunnery ships behind" (p. 86). I don’t understand why the Redifon was even required for something that seems like common sense. Or was there perhaps some logic to sending the gunships first (Prat, Latorre) and the missile ships behind (Almirante-class, Leander-class)?

FLOMAR, on the other hand, "lacked" such a simulator simply because the crews spent most of the naval year on board, maneuvering with real ships in real time and facing real problems. Approximately two-thirds of the year, the crews remained on board—a fact anyone with relatives in the Argentine Navy at that time can corroborate. Many sailors during this golden era of the Argentine Navy only met their children when they were 8 or 9 months old, as their life at sea prevented earlier visits. The distance between both fleets, beyond the geographic one, was astronomical.

 

Analysis of the Clash of Forces

Within the framework of the 1978 Beagle Crisis, tensions between Argentina and Chile reached a critical point, bringing both nations to the brink of armed conflict. Operation Sovereignty, planned by Argentina, had as its primary objective the amphibious landing and capture of the Picton, Lennox, and Nueva islands, located in the Beagle Channel. This operation was to be conducted under strong naval and air cover provided by the Argentine Fleet (FLOMAR).

Preparations and Force Composition

By late December 1978, FLOMAR was fully equipped and ready for action. It had at its disposal the aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo, a crucial asset that carried A-4Q Skyhawks and S-2 Trackers, providing both air interception and maritime patrol capabilities. The fleet also included several modern destroyers, such as the ARA Hércules (the only one equipped with medium range naval SAM like the Sea Dart), as well as frigates like the ARA Piedrabuena and ARA Espora. Additionally, Argentina possessed a significant submarine force with the ARA Santiago del Estero, ARA Salta, ARA Santa Fe, and ARA San Luis submarines.

The Chilean Navy (ACh), although smaller in number, maintained a robust defensive force. Its primary asset was the light cruiser CL-02 Capitán Prat and the still formidable Almirante Latorre, accompanied by frigates and destroyers equipped with MM-38 Exocet missiles. The Chilean fleet also included the submarine SS-21 Simpson, the only operational submarine at the time, as the other Oberon-class submarines were undergoing major maintenance.

 

Operation Development

The landing operation planned by Argentina focused on Isla Nueva, where it was known that around 150 Chilean marines were entrenched. The Argentine strategy was to land on the southern coast of the island, avoiding Chilean defenses in the north. To execute this, the amphibious transport ARA Cabo San Antonio would be employed, escorted by destroyers and frigates providing fire support and protection.


The Chileans anticipated a conventional landing on the islands, when in fact, the most likely scenario was that the occupation would be carried out via vertical assault using helicopters.

The final phase of FLOMAR’s approach was established with the Argentine fleet advancing from its last detected position, 120 miles south of Cape Horn, moving eastward toward the Beagle Channel. Meanwhile, the Chilean Navy (ACh) mobilized from Puerto Williams, heading toward the channel to intercept the Argentine forces. Here, two simultaneous courses of action can be evaluated: first, the main fleet moved toward the Drake Passage to engage FLOMAR in open waters; second, the smaller torpedo boats (Quidora, Fresia, Tegualda, and Guacolda) would confront the landing force.



Submarine Warfare

The book La Escuadra en Acción by Arancibia Clavel and Bulnes Serrano recounts the military and political activity during the conflict, with a focus on the Chilean Navy. Although the text is not highly technical regarding the means employed, it provides an interesting general description of the operations of the Chilean fleet in the south.

In this account, it is mentioned that the Chilean Submarine Force was composed of the Balao-class submarine Simpson (SS-21) and the modern, for the time, British Oberon-class submarines named Hyatt (SS-23) and O'Brien (SS-22).

According to this source, the O'Brien was in dry dock during the conflict, and the Hyatt had to interrupt its transit south and return to its base in Talcahuano due to a mechanical failure. The other Balao-class submarine, the Thomson (SS-20), is not even mentioned, possibly because it had already been decommissioned due to its age. In fact, both Brazil and Argentina had retired their submarines of this class in the early 1970s, after receiving the Guppy class.

Although the Simpson was technologically outdated for the circumstances, it managed to fulfill its mission. The old submarine had to surface frequently to recharge its batteries, dangerously exposing itself to Argentine radars and periscopes. It was photographed at least twice by Argentine submarines while on the surface. Due to its wear, it is not surprising that this operation had to be performed more frequently than usual. The Simpson was detected twice by Argentine submarines, which chose not to fire their torpedoes. Nonetheless, it is possible that its commander, Rubén Scheihing, attempted to attack despite his technological disadvantage.


Patrol Areas Assigned to the Argentine Submarines

Although the exact dates cannot be confirmed, the Guppy-class submarines were very close to engaging in combat, although fortunately, their commanders interpreted their orders with sound judgment. In mid-December, the Santa Fe submarine was patrolling the entrance to Bahía Cook at a depth of 50 meters. The sonar operators detected the sound of approaching warship propellers. The commander of the S-21 raised the combat alarm, the crew took their positions, and all torpedo tubes were prepared for launch. The propeller sounds grew in number, eventually forming what appeared to be "a fleet." The Chilean squadron sailed above the S-21, heading into the open waters of the South Pacific.

The sonar operators counted three, four, six... up to 13 ships. Some had "heavy" propellers, like cruisers, while most had "light" propellers, similar to those of destroyers.

However, the Chilean fleet was sailing without emitting signals, meaning they were not using active sonar on the escort ships. A fleet commander's decision to sail without emitting can have several justifications, such as not actively searching for submarines or preferring to be more discreet, as sonar emissions propagate over great distances and can be detected by submarine countermeasure equipment, revealing their course or trajectory.

It is not difficult to imagine the immense tension experienced by the crew of the Santa Fe. Suspended in silence dozens of meters below the Pacific, they awaited the Chilean fleet's actions, with weapons ready to launch if the right moment came to strike from a tactically advantageous position.

Ultimately, the Chilean fleet entered open waters, moving away from the S-21. Following his orders, the commander of the Santa Fe did not interpret the Chilean fleet's maneuver as a hostile act, especially at a time when there was no formal declaration of war.

This situation clearly shows that the ARA Santa Fe was aware of the Chilean fleet's position and, in the event of war, it would have been the first to launch torpedoes against the Chilean fleet.


Meeting and Engagement Point

The meeting point of the fleets would be near the Beagle Channel. FLOMAR had to face the threat of the ACh's MM-38 Exocet missiles, with a range of 35-40 km. There is a recurring narrative in dialogues, discussions, and exchanges with trans-Andean experts and novices alike that suggests a certain accounting of Exocets, leading to the assumption that a potential naval battle would "clearly" tip in favor of the ACh. At that time, Chile was thought to have 4 to 8 more missile launchers than the ARA. This is the denial of the evident Argentine advantage, as these opinion shapers tend to overlook the key assets of the ARA: its aircraft carrier and its four operational submarines. For greater clarity, the aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo provided Argentina with a significant advantage, enabling attacks from distances of over 200 miles (370 km). Another key factor, when compared with the experience in the Malvinas, is that the Argentine Naval Aviation had full experience in anti-ship attacks, and the bomb fuses would have been correctly adjusted to detonate on impact with the ships. Once the Chilean fleet was detected by the S-2 Tracker and P-3 Neptune aircraft, its position would be relayed to FAA airbases and the CFS submarines, and it would only be a matter of time to see who would arrive first to the hunt.



Landing and Engagement Scenarios

  1. Chilean Fleet’s Approach to Stop the Landing
    The Chilean Navy (ACh) would rapidly advance from Puerto Williams toward the Beagle Channel, deploying its frigates and destroyers to intercept and attack the Argentine landing forces. Fast attack craft would also be used to disrupt the landings and support vessels. The Chileans would launch Exocet missiles and use naval artillery to harass the landing craft. Additionally, they would coordinate air strikes from Punta Arenas using Hawker Hunter and A-37 Dragonfly aircraft. Entering the Beagle Channel is a losing strategy for either fleet due to restricted movement, sensor disruption caused by terrain clutter, and the consequent degradation in weapon performance.

  2. FLOMAR’s Response to This Movement
    In response to the Chilean approach, FLOMAR would deploy its A-4Q Skyhawks and S-2 Trackers from the aircraft carrier to conduct preemptive strikes against ACh units. Argentine submarines would patrol strategic areas to intercept Chilean ships. FLOMAR would use its air defense systems to intercept approaching aircraft and launch its own anti-ship missiles to neutralize key threats. Unlike the Chilean fleet, the Argentine Navy had an external attack element in the form of carrier-based aviation. The confined space of the channel would facilitate an air-naval attack and would have been ideal for a sequence of attacks followed by rearming to restart the cycle.

  3. ACh Focuses on Seeking Out FLOMAR for Direct Defeat
    Based on the cited literature, this was the path chosen by the Chilean Navy. If the ACh had decided to seek out and directly confront FLOMAR, they would have circled Navarino Island or approached via the Drake Passage toward Cape Horn (southeast route). They would coordinate with the Simpson submarine and aerial patrols to locate the Argentine fleet, launching missiles and naval artillery strikes as soon as they detected it. According to the same literature, the ARA Santa Fe was positioned beneath the fleet when it entered open waters, meaning the target was detected first. Again, in this scenario, the Argentine naval aviation would have encountered them halfway, in any case, forcing them to endure several waves of A-4Q Skyhawk attacks. What remained of these waves would be what could confront an intact FLOMAR. Checkmate.

  4. FLOMAR Focuses on Seeking Out ACh for Direct Defeat
    If FLOMAR decided to seek out and directly confront ACh, it would advance from its position south of Cape Horn toward the northeast. They would use their carrier-based aircraft for reconnaissance and attack, first launching repeated air strikes to sink or disable the main surface assets, followed by attacks to sink or damage various ships. They would then move closer to launch anti-ship missiles from their destroyers and frigates, coordinating strikes with their submarines.

    Here we recall the ACh's "combat station" formation: the ships were anchored side by side to share the wait with social interaction and the exchange of supplies. If the ARA had launched its A-4Q Skyhawks while this formation was still in place, it would have greatly facilitated the effectiveness of the bombs. A single bombing run by three aircraft with three 450-kilogram bombs could have impacted two ships at a time, doubling their efficiency. Checkmate.


Roles of Naval and Military Aviation

  • Argentine Carrier-Based Naval Aviation:

    • A-4Q Skyhawk: These aircraft would conduct interception and air superiority missions, as well as attacks on enemy ships to protect the landing forces. A total of 8 units were carrier-based.
    • S-2 Tracker: These aircraft would perform maritime patrols, submarine detection, and coordination of anti-submarine and anti-ship attacks. 2 units were carrier-based.
    • P-3 Neptune: Operating from land bases, these long-range aircraft had highly trained crews who conducted year-round missions in the Argentine Sea.
  • Naval Aviation Based in Río Grande:

    • T-28 Fennec: These aircraft would perform close air support missions and ground attacks to cover the landing forces (deployed in Río Grande and Estancia La Sara). A total of 19 units.
    • MB-326 Aermacchi: These aircraft would carry out interdiction and ground attack missions to support amphibious and land operations (Río Grande). The exact number of units is undetermined.
    • T-34C Turbo Mentor: These aircraft would undertake light attack missions, logistical support, and supply transport. More than 12 units.
  • Chilean Military Aviation in Chabunco:

    • Hawker Hunter: These aircraft would perform interception and air combat, ship attacks, and provide support to ground forces (6 units).
    • A-37 Dragonfly: These aircraft would conduct ground attacks, close support, interdiction, and harassment of Argentine landing forces (12 units).
  • Argentine Military Aviation in Río Gallegos:

    • A-4B/C/P Skyhawk: These aircraft would carry out attacks on ships and provide support to ground forces, as well as interception and air combat when necessary (12 units).
    • Mirage IIIEA/Mirage 5 Dagger/IAI Nesher: More than 30 units of the three models combined.
    • F-86 Sabre: These were pure interception fighters, deployed to engage the Hawker Hunters due to experience gained during the Indo-Pakistani wars. The exact number is unclear, but pilot reports suggest there were more than 4 units and less than 14.
    • Their objectives were first to initiate bombings against military targets in the cities of Punta Arenas (Chabunco airbase) and Puerto Williams (Zañartú airfield) and to destroy the Chilean Air Force, using a technique very similar to that employed by Israel in the Six-Day War of 1967. The same approach would be implemented across all active fronts.

 


A-4Q Launched from the Aircraft Carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo Strikes the ACh APD-29 Uribe

 

The offensive against Chile would follow the following sequence: (Wikipedia):

  • Starting at 20:00 hours (H-2) on D-Day, December 22, 1978, FLOMAR and the Marine Infantry — Battalion No. 5 — would occupy the Freycinet, Hershell, Wollaston, Deceit, and Hornos islands (see map below).
  • At 22:00 hours, the designated H-Hour, FLOMAR and marines — Battalions No. 3 and No. 4 — would occupy the Picton, Nueva, and Lennox islands, also gaining control of the Beagle Channel (see map below).
  • The ground offensive would begin at 24:00 hours (H+2). The V Army Corps would launch an attack from the Santa Cruz area, aiming to conquer as much Chilean territory as possible in the Patagonian region. Simultaneously, the Argentine Air Force would begin strategic bombings.
  • At 06:00 hours (H+8) on December 23, 1978 (23.06:00.DEC.978), the destruction of the Chilean Air Force on the ground would commence.

 


The naval confrontation between Argentina and Chile in 1978 would have been a complex, multidimensional operation, involving naval, air, and ground forces in a challenging geographical environment. Argentina's air and submarine superiority gave it a significant advantage, though Chile's coastal defenses and tactical coordination offered formidable resistance. The outcome would have depended on numerous tactical and strategic factors, as well as the effectiveness in executing the planned operations by both nations.


In this specific scenario, it should be noted that the Argentine armed forces had three air bases on the front: one mobile (the ARA Veinticinco de Mayo) and two air bases in Río Grande and Río Gallegos, which would prove to be highly operational four years later in the Malvinas. In contrast, only the Chabunco air base in Punta Arenas would bear the burden of attempting to stop the landing operations, conduct anti-ship missions against FLOMAR, combat air attacks from the northeast (Río Gallegos air base) and from the east-northeast (Río Grande naval air base), and then plan ABA (Airbase Attack) operations against these same bases. Is that not too many objectives for a single runway?

For its part, the Argentine Naval Aviation (COAN) would focus exclusively on anti-ship strikes or very close air support, while the Argentine Air Force (FAA) would support the advance of the armored assault on Punta Arenas, conduct an ABA against the Chabunco air base, and ensure air superiority over Punta Arenas. Additionally, at the request of the Argentine Navy (ARA), the FAA would provide air support to the landing operations.



Probabilities of Success

Argentine Forces: With air superiority provided by the aircraft carrier and a modern surface fleet and submarines, Argentine forces had a significant advantage. The joint air-sea-submarine operations of FLOMAR would increase their chances of success.


Comparative Strength Between ACh (Left) and FLOMAR (Right)

The pink bands indicate the range of their main weapons (MM38 Exocet, 20 miles or 35-42 km). The aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo is represented by an A-4Q fully loaded with bombs and fuel, with a range of 350 km. These are the vital areas to cover before considering a real threat to the adversary. As an analyst, I find it difficult to even see a glimpse of equality between both forces.

Before analyzing the Chilean case, let us review the probability the Chilean Squadron had of repelling an air attack, which would have been the primary weapon of the Argentine Navy (ARA). Some Chilean destroyers (Almirante-class) were equipped with the British Short Seacat system. This is a small subsonic missile, powered by a two-stage solid-fuel rocket motor. In flight, it is guided by four cruciform wings and stabilized by four small tail fins. It is guided by command line-of-sight (CLOS) through a radio link, meaning flight commands are transmitted by a remote operator with both the missile and target in sight. The same system was installed on the Argentine carrier Veinticinco de Mayo and, in its land-based version (Tigercat), was deployed in Tierra del Fuego (IMARA) and Río Gallegos (Army). The missile proved highly inaccurate in the Malvinas conflict due to its lack of autonomy and reliance on the operator’s coordination of pulse and vision, with the inherent human eye difficulties in accurately perceiving depth and distance in space. Therefore, perhaps the best-equipped Chilean ship for self-defense against air attacks was likely the cruiser Almirante Latorre or Prat, with up to 14 Bofors 40mm pom-pom guns. These would have been the most difficult targets to approach and attack, and, if communications had allowed, the task might have been delegated to submarines.

Another intellectual exercise that no one has conducted, to my knowledge, is the following:

Chilean ships would approach at 21/28 knots (cruising speed/full speed) towards the Argentine naval forces (assuming that the CASA-212 aircraft correctly located them, as Chile had no other "eyes" available; there is a myth about electronic interception that is mentioned below). The distance to be covered was estimated to be between 140/193 miles according to various Chilean reports. This would take the Chilean fleet just over 5/8 hours of sailing to get within 20 miles of the Argentine ships (20 miles being the first point where they could attempt to strike the fleet, as that was the range of the MM38 Exocet missile, Chile’s only decisive weapon).

During those 5/8 hours, the ships would not be able to fire or damage the enemy. Meanwhile, during this period, the aircraft carrier ARA 25 de Mayo could launch and recover 3 to 5 combat sorties from its air group. Assuming each attack group flew at 400 knots round trip, landed, and took 25 minutes to reload bombs and refuel before taking off again, each A-4Q Skyhawk would take off with 3 bombs of 450kg on the central pylon, equipped with fuzes adapted to hit ships.

In the first pass alone, 24 bombs would be dropped on the "Squadron". Assuming no losses for the Argentine planes, by the fourth or fifth pass, between 96 and 120 bombs would have been dropped on the ships. Even if an Argentine plane was shot down in each pass, resulting in up to 4 losses, the worst-case scenario would still see up to 36 bombs launched against the "Squadron". In other words, before the Chilean fleet could close the gap between them and the enemy, they would have been hit by between 36 and 120 bombs (see the table below).

All of this would happen before any Chilean combat station operator could even press the launch button for a single Exocet missile. Do you understand how serious this plan was for the Chilean command? What were they thinking? Perhaps the worst part is that at the end of this death corridor, a fleet almost identical to the Chilean one in terms of surface combatants and Exocet launch capability, but completely intact, was waiting for them. Those who managed to survive would be met by a volley of French missiles.


Approximation times to 20 miles, passes, and number of bombs considering losses


Chilean Forces: The Chilean fleet in open waters was at the mercy of naval aviation first, and Argentine submarines later. As mentioned above, the distance between both fleets worked in favor of the FLOMAR. If the Chilean Navy had been detected at 190 miles, the bomb runs carried out by the Skyhawks would have left little afloat, even considering shoot-downs. It is almost sad to imagine a fleet speeding up to strike the enemy while being progressively bombarded over and over again with absolutely no help. Possibility of success: Zero.

Jorge Martínez Bush, a Chilean officer, stated the following in the book Soldados de Mar en Acción (Sánchez Urra, 2020), a compilation of the activities of the CIM.

"From what could have been the 'Naval Battle of Drake', then-Commander Jorge Martínez Bush, the second-in-command of the cruiser 'Prat', points out that 'we were about to enter combat, and we were prepared. In naval tactics, the position was in our favor because the sea and the wind worked for us, putting the Argentinians in a very complicated position' (p. 196)."
This officer accuses Vice Admiral López Silva of trusting the sea and the wind to defeat Argentine naval aviation. Did he take a pencil and paper and make a basic diagram to see if his statements had any foundation? What does Martínez Bush think about the air group (GAE) of the 25 de Mayo? Or did it not exist? If he is reading this, he could clarify this matter to the Chilean public. By the way, Sánchez Urra's account of the FLOMAR is suspiciously incomplete (he omits 2 Argentine submarines and speaks of "Chilean submarines" in the plural, portraying the Simpson as fully operational, on par with the Argentinians), which casts doubt on many other descriptions and lists presented throughout his work.

The other alternative was to hide in the fjords, which would have offered better chances of survival. However, with more than 100 enemy planes flying over their position and planning an attack, it was only a matter of time. The Chilean Navy was a serious opponent but completely lacked decisive weapons: neither aviation to disturb the two-dimensional plane nor operational submarines to attack from the complete stealth of the depths. Had the situation dragged on for only a week, it’s not unreasonable to think that the entire Chilean fleet would have ended up sunk or, for all practical purposes, out of combat. Possibility of success: Zero.




Defeat Scenario and Seeking Refuge in the Chilean Fjords

If the ACh suffered a defeat, a likely outcome would have involved the sinking or disabling of its main assets. In terms of naval target value, without a doubt, the Leander-class frigates would have been the primary focus of the attack, followed by the light cruisers Prat and Latorre, given their gunfire capability to affect landing operations. The remaining targets would have been defined by circumstance.

It’s worth adding here a piece of information that Admiral López Silva (theoretically the most prepared in naval-air warfare) of the ACh did not possess: Four years later, Argentine aircraft demonstrated that a fleet confined in a channel (like the San Carlos Strait) or very close to the coast (such as the southern islands of Cape Horn) was a perfectly reachable target for low-flying jet aircraft. The Royal Navy, equipped with much better air defense missiles than the ACh, only achieved a few isolated shootdowns, and only the failure of the fuses on bombs dropped by the FAA prevented its complete neutralization as a surface combat force before the end of the conflict. The attackers of the ACh would have been A-4 Skyhawks, both in their B and P variants, and Israeli Mirage fighters of the FAA, as well as the well-known A-4Qs of the COAN—all of which proved to be lethal in attacking a fleet. Did the Chilean fleet really expect a different outcome in their case?



If the ACh were to pass through the channel, it would ensure its demise. The fleet would be trapped in the Beagle Channel or advancing close to the southern coast of the islands, facilitating the approach of aircraft outside radar detection. The attack, as would later happen in the Malvinas, would take full advantage of the geography, just as it was in the San Carlos Strait. We now know that the likelihood of the main ACh units escaping an air attack was almost nil. Once the main units were disabled, the rest of the Chilean fleet would be attacked by Argentine destroyers and corvettes with their Exocets. This would not be the defeat chosen, according to the book by Arancibia Clavel and Serrano Bulnes.

The ACh would be forced to rely on air support from the Chilean Air Force (FACh), based at Chabunco airbase. At 6 AM on December 21, this base would be the primary target of a preemptive strike from all air assets stationed at BAM Río Gallegos. To make matters worse, if the Chilean fighters managed to take off, the COAN was lying in wait less than 200 km from Chabunco with a dozen T-28 Fennecs, ready to attack the Chilean fighters with machine guns and rockets as they landed.

Even so, if we consider that some units remained afloat after a defeat in the Fuegian channels, they would retreat to fjords such as Última Esperanza, Quintupeu, or Comau. With Argentine air superiority, Chilean forces would have little chance of success, as FLOMAR could carry out precise and sustained attacks. Without air superiority, Chilean forces would have a better chance of defending themselves, but they would still face a significant threat due to FLOMAR’s ability to coordinate attacks from both air and sea.

I want to add two final details before the conclusions. First, Chilean literature, whether academic or journalistic, as well as television media reports, engage in a repeated act of pretending ignorance. It is almost impossible to find books endorsed by the Chilean Navy (ACh) or other military forces, let alone by journalistic outlets, that mention the key word "A-4Q Skyhawk." Apparently, this weapon never existed in the theater of operations. And if it did, it was never a threat. In fact, they probably didn’t even fly. Oh, and the Argentine sailors got seasick due to rough seas. The books from the CIM or the “Squadron” pretend ignorance, as they reflect at all times, and absolutely without deviation, that what was going to take place was a naval battle, in the style of Jutland/Latakia. Two large fleets, now without cannons but with missiles, would come into firing range, each firing their volleys, and the better one would win. It almost seems as if the Argentine aircraft carrier was going to stay in the rear watching the scene, like a spectator in the stands.

This scenario is a complete disrespect to the informed reader. It is truly shameful that professional Chilean naval officers avoid addressing the clear impending air-naval battle and lie to their public by speaking of courage and patriotism to cover up what was entirely and fundamentally a technical issue. Sadly, Chilean "technical" literature is filled with this appeal to bravery rather than focusing on tools or tactics.

Finally, that same literature claims a level of information about Argentine forces' movements that surpasses what would be available today, even with two British AWACS donated as part of the collaboration during the Falklands War. Apparently, they had information on troop movements, aircraft movements, the position of the Argentine fleet, the order of operations of various units, and who knows what else. Moreover, this information was updated hourly. Not even with their own satellites would they have had such an instantaneous real-time picture. Apparently, Argentine communications had been "decoded," similar to Japan’s Purple Code. This is mentioned by anonymous authors using the mysterious term "electronic interception or tracking." Well, that was not the case. Argentine encrypted communications were not decoded. What naval intelligence actually did was maintain open channels to broadcast the information they wanted to be accessible to Chilean listening posts (counterintelligence). Argentine communications were indeed intercepted, but that happened in 1982, by NATO intelligence agencies, specifically from a station in Norway. But let’s never confuse NATO with Chile under any circumstances. In the previous statement, Martínez Smith himself comments that the Argentine fleet was an hour's sailing distance from the Chilean border, knowing this only through intercepted communications. Dear reader, in air-naval warfare, one does not order an attack on a fleet whose location has not been confirmed by one’s own sensors (an observer or radar providing the position). If FLOMAR was going to be attacked based on "intercepted" information, it was probably an ambush planned by the Argentine naval command.

The TransAndean Squadron, such as it was detected by the ARA Santa Fe submarine
 

In summary, the technological and operational superiority of FLOMAR granted the Argentine forces a considerable advantage in a direct confrontation with the ACh. The geography of the Chilean fjords would provide a natural refuge, but Chilean forces would still face significant challenges without the ability to counter Argentine air and naval superiority.

Retreat to the Fjords, Perhaps the Best Outcome for the ACh...

This report does not diminish the performance or the planning executed by the ACh. They did the best they could with what they had. That said, it wasn’t enough. The stars aligned to leave them without sufficient submarine capability (the SS-21 Simpson was detected and photographed twice before December 21, while their best submarines were undergoing major maintenance). Air support was going to be limited because they lacked a naval attack aviation force, and the FACh's air assets were going to receive their baptism of fire that same morning, meaning they would be fighting for their own survival. According to the plan, by the afternoon of December 21, Chabunco was expected to be inoperable—whether by FAA A-4 and Mirage strikes in the early morning or by T-28 Fennec/MB326 attacks throughout the rest of the day.

A criticism that can be leveled against López Silva’s plan is that he adhered to a Mahanian philosophy of seeking a decisive large-scale naval battle. He was committing the entire fleet ("all-in") in a maneuver where it would suffer many losses before even seeing the enemy on their radar screens. Once the events were set in motion, the fate of the Chilean fleet would be sealed for the rest of the conflict. This invites reflection on alternatives: when a smaller fleet faces a larger one, it should better rely on naval guerrilla tactics or small attrition battles. The Argentine Navy was born this way—facing much larger fleets, such as the Spanish and the Brazilian Imperial Navy, dragging them into small battles that favored minor but exhausting victories against the enemy. The fjords are an ideal setting for such a task: hiding ships to later conduct coordinated attacks. Even with enemy air superiority, this tactic can still be effective, as the Germans demonstrated during WWII by sheltering ships in protected fjords with dense layers of air defense and achieving success. This alternative would likely be more reasonable than facing a fully equipped aircraft carrier in open waters, without air superiority, and with an impaired submarine force. And here, the term "larger fleet" is more qualitative than quantitative—the Chilean "squadron" was going solo, with very little support from the depths and no air support, against naval pilots who trained intensively every year on how to sink ships and were highly skilled.

Did López Silva think that the ARA would bring its main naval assets within the range of Chilean Exocets for a gentleman’s duel? Was López Silva expecting a Jutland or a Latakia while heading into a Midway? Could it be that the Chilean naval command believed that the ARA would not exploit its submarine and naval air superiority by deploying its submarines and carrier-based fighters before they could even detect FLOMAR on their radars? Did López Silva think the A-4Q Skyhawks would not be launched against his ships? Long before a Chilean sailor would get the chance to press the launch button on an Exocet, the Chilean fleet would encounter the COAN and the CFS—either sequentially or simultaneously.

Sources

  • Arancibia Clavel, Patricia y Bulnes Serrano, Francisco. La escuadra en acción. 1978: el conflicto Chile-Argentina visto a través de sus protagonistas, Santiago, Chile: Catalonia, 2017 (ISBN: 978-956-324-298-0)
  • Burzaco, Ricardo. La Fuerza de Submarinos de la Armada Argentina en la crisis de 1978. DeySeg

Thursday, November 21, 2024

Naval Aviation: The Captain Castro Fox Accident

Castro Fox's Accident



Memoirs of Captain (Ret.) VGM Rodolfo Castro Fox, Commander of EA33.

Sunday, August 9, 1981

That afternoon, under calm skies, I was catapulted from the deck in my A-4Q, 3-A-303. I was undergoing requalification, having already completed two arrestments in the 3-A-307 earlier that morning.

“Stable deck, wind at 28/30 knots.” The signal officer's voice came through the radio, relaying the conditions for my landing on the aircraft carrier 25 de Mayo.

“03, ball, three five,” I responded, acknowledging the yellow light indicator projected by the stabilized glide slope system on the port side of the ship. At the same time, I confirmed my fuel in hundreds of pounds.

Completing my turn into the final leg at 500 feet, I caught sight of the ship's white wake below and to my left, contrasting against a nearly calm, greenish-blue sea. Ahead, a thick yellow inverted “T” marked the start of the angled deck, positioned eight degrees off the carrier’s centerline. To the right, the “island,” crowded with platforms, antennas, and the ship’s smokestack, released a column of smoke aligned with the relative wind, running parallel to the deck’s axis.

My focus was split: keeping the “ball” centered with the green reference line flanked by guide lights, ensuring the angle-of-attack indicator in “Donna” showed a yellow light, and aligning with the deck’s axis, which slightly shifted to the right as the ship moved.

Gentle adjustments on the throttle and flight controls kept everything aligned, maintaining engine thrust between 80 and 90 percent of its 8,200 pounds of power. The ship's high stern swayed slowly as the sharp turbine whine was interrupted by instructions from the Landing Signal Officer on the radio.

Though I had over 250 arrestments, the concentration and tension remained the same. There’s no room for distraction; only after the flight can one relax, reliving and savoring this demanding and cherished activity of naval aviators.

The carrier rapidly grew larger; I crossed over the stern at 130 knots, with the “ball” centered, reaching the zone of the six arrestor cables. Just as I touched down, my left hand automatically pushed the throttle to 100 percent while my thumb engaged the dive brake switch, ready to take off again if the hook missed the cable.

The deceleration began immediately. I had caught the third cable, right on centerline, and my body was held back by the harness straps across my torso, while my head moved freely forward.




The Precise Moment When the 3-A-303 Breaks the Arresting Cable and Heads Toward the Sea

In that critical instant, the 3-A-303, having engaged the arresting cable, suddenly broke free. The snap was abrupt, and instead of decelerating as expected, the aircraft continued forward. The deck rushed past beneath me, and in those split seconds, I knew the plane was headed off the edge and toward the open sea.

With no time to lose, my reflexes kicked in. My hand was already at the throttle, pushing it to full power in an attempt to regain altitude. The aircraft barely cleared the edge of the flight deck, plummeting toward the water before the engine’s thrust began to pull it back up. That brief but intense moment, where I was suspended between sky and sea, brought every skill and ounce of training to the fore.


The nose of the aircraft, now lowered, shook with oscillating lateral movements due to the immense deceleration it was experiencing as the 14,500-pound plane came to a halt at a relative speed of 100 knots within less than 60 meters. Just in front of me lay the ocean, separated only by a few meters of deck.

Suddenly, at very low speed and reducing the throttle to minimum, my body pressed against the seatback, and my head jerked back into the headrest. The plane had freed itself from the arresting cable as it snapped, and it surged forward. Instinctively, I pushed the throttle to 100 percent—a habit from touch-and-go landings or "bolters" on the deck—believing I was gaining speed.

But this time, I didn’t have enough speed to take off again, as I had once done four years earlier in the same plane. I quickly reduced the throttle and applied right rudder to guide the plane toward the axial runway centerline, aiming to maximize the space to try to brake. There, I would have an additional 50 meters of deck, but the speed was too high, and the plane skidded leftward.

Over the radio, I heard the signal officer shouting, "Eject—Eject!" Instinctively, I pulled the lower ejection seat handle with my right hand. I felt a muffled explosion behind me as the canopy, propelled by the fired cartridge, detached and slid backward. I expected the seat’s rocket to fire next and propel me out—but the seat didn’t eject.

The plane continued its path toward the angled deck’s end; the nose wheel dipped into the edge, and the plane crossed over a 40 mm anti-aircraft mount, sharply turning left as the left wheel was the first to lose contact with the deck. The carrier’s deck disappeared from view; I was plummeting toward the sea from a height of 13 meters, inverted, strapped tightly to the ejection seat by upper and lower harnesses. Less than five seconds had passed since the cable snapped, and I was losing consciousness as we struck the water.

Every action and image from recognizing the emergency as the cable snapped is vivid to me, with time seeming to slow as if in slow motion, until the aircraft hit the sea at dusk.

It was only later that I regained consciousness, being airlifted in a Sea King helicopter to the Puerto Belgrano Naval Hospital, some 100 miles away. Tied to the stretcher, I wondered about my slim chances of surviving a water landing in the dead of night.

I only learned what happened after the crash from the accounts of those involved, as I have no memory of those moments. When the plane hit the water, nose down and inverted, the ejection seat fired, likely launching me like a torpedo toward the seabed, propelled by the rocket that ignited at that moment. Otherwise, I would have gone down with the plane to the ocean floor.

The condition of my left arm evidenced the force with which the seat left the aircraft. My left hand had been on the throttle—a critical mistake during ejection—and my forearm was crushed in the narrow space between the cockpit’s interior side and the side of the ejection seat. As a result, I suffered fractures to the ulna, radius, and humeral tuberosity, as well as a scapulohumeral dislocation.




The seat continued its sequence through the various explosive cartridges, releasing the harness around my torso, inflating the bladders to separate me from the seat, and deploying the pilot chute to extract the parachute. Had this sequence failed, I would have remained strapped to the seat and descended to the seabed.

Dressed as I was in an anti-exposure suit that trapped air between my body and the fabric, along with the rest of my flight gear—torso harness, survival vest, and dry anti-g suit—my body began a slow ascent to the surface due to positive buoyancy. Those who saw me surface after almost two minutes reported that I was paddling with my right arm. Immediately, an Alouette helicopter stationed for rescue, commanded by then-Lieutenant Commander Carlos Espilondo, approached my position. Two rescue swimmers dove into the sea, detached my parachute, and slipped the rescue sling under my shoulders.

They hoisted me up with the helicopter winch and began to transport me; however, I didn’t stay aloft for long. Unconscious and with a dislocated shoulder, my arms rose, causing the sling to slip, and I fell back into the sea. This time, the rescue swimmers had to reach my new position and pull me from beneath the surface, as my now-soaked gear no longer provided positive buoyancy and they hadn’t inflated my life vest.

They attached the sling to the carabiner on my flight suit, designed for such cases, and this time successfully lifted me into the Alouette.

When they placed me on the flight deck, their first move was to remove the water from my lungs. I was quickly transported on a stretcher via the forward elevator on the flight deck to the onboard surgical room.



On the way to the infirmary, I suffered my first cardiorespiratory arrest, from which they successfully revived me.

For a long time, I didn’t respond to external stimuli, and in the operating room, I experienced a second arrest, but again, the medical team managed to bring me back. Days later, the doctors asked if I remembered how they had revived me from these arrests; my denial brought them a sense of relief.

The diagnosis read like a list of battle wounds: multiple trauma, drowning-induced asphyxia, lung shock, cardiorespiratory arrest, cranial trauma with loss of consciousness, bilateral orbital trauma, radial and ulnar fractures, left rib fracture, anterior shoulder dislocation, submental, supra-auricular, and left eyelid wounds, bipalpebral hematoma, conjunctival hemorrhage, and multiple abrasions. This grim report was signed by Lieutenant Commander and Medical Officer Edgar Coria, who, along with the Naval Air Group’s medical team, treated me.

That night, I was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit at the hospital, where I remained for four days.

Around midnight, Commander Jorge Philippi and his wife Graciela called our apartment in Bahía Blanca to inform Stella of my accident and hospitalization. Months later, I would be the one to inform Graciela of her husband’s disappearance during the Malvinas conflict.

My appearance must have been quite unsettling, with swelling, bruises, stitches, and more. I realized this when visitors who weren’t medical staff would turn pale and quickly leave the ICU. The nurses, using various excuses, refused to provide me with a mirror despite my repeated requests.

Even days later, when I had been moved to a regular room, my children were visibly shaken upon seeing me. If any of them had thought about studying medicine, I likely discouraged that notion. According to specialists, factors that helped prevent neurological sequelae included the cold water and the fact that I had been breathing 100 percent oxygen during the flight. The A-4 lacks a demand system that mixes oxygen with cabin air; instead, it uses a liquid oxygen system with a converter and regulator that delivers pure oxygen.

Perhaps, “Tata Dios” hadn’t planned on calling my number that day—or St. Peter simply made a mistake with the list.

After overcoming the major risk of pulmonary or renal complications, the ordeal of recovering my left arm began. Pins were placed in both bones of my forearm, and I was fitted with a cast that I wore for over three months, constantly adjusted in posture and size.

Declared unfit for flight, I attended medical evaluations every two months, where they noted my recovery from various traumas, abrasions, and interstitial pneumonia, yet my left arm remained restricted in movement. I continued my duties as Deputy Commander at the squadron, but with envy as I watched my fellow pilots take to the skies.

Toward the end of the year, the awards for the 1980 weapons exercises were presented in a ceremony held at the Puerto Belgrano Naval Base Auditorium. I was called up to receive the La Capital of Rosario award for the highest annual individual score in air-to-air shooting among all attack squadron pilots. Seeing me with my arm in a cast, someone joked, “Imagine if he had both arms!”

Monday, November 18, 2024

Argentine Navy: ARA 25 de Mayo in the 1980s

Argentine Navy aircraft carrier ARA 25 de Mayo in operation in the 1980s

Poder Naval




Argentine Navy A-4Q fighters operating on the aircraft carrier ARA 25 de Mayo, circa 1980. At that time, the Argentine Navy had a more powerful GAE (Embarked Air Group) than the one on the aircraft carrier Minas Gerais. da Armada de Brasil, which operated only anti-submarine aircraft.

Originally built for the Royal Navy during World War II as HMS Venerable, this Colossus Class aircraft carrier was transferred to Argentina in 1969, where it was renamed in honor of the May Revolution of 1810, which marked the beginning of Argentina's independence process from Spain.



The main characteristics of the ARA 25 de Mayo were a displacement of approximately 19,900 tons at full load, a length of approximately 192 meters and a beam of 24.4 meters. With a top speed of about 24 knots (about 44 km/h), it was powered by 4 boilers with 40,000 hp (30,000 kW) steam turbines driving 2 shafts.

During the Malvinas War in 1982, the ARA 25 de Mayo's S-2 Tracker aircraft detected the main body of the British Task Force in the early hours of 2 May at about 200 miles away, but the ship was unable to launch its attack aircraft against British ships due to a lull.



Near the time of catapulting the aircraft for the morning attack, when a wind speed of 30 knots was needed, this was almost zero, so each A-4Q aircraft could take off with a single bomb or with fuel for a range of only 100 miles.



The ARA 25 de Mayo, at that time, could only reach 20 knots, an insufficient speed to produce the relative wind in the flight deck necessary to launch the aircraft with four Mk.82 bombs. The probability of impact would be insignificant, not justifying the attack. The mission was aborted.

SOURCE : @MarianoSciaroni, in X

Sunday, May 5, 2024

Malvinas: The Night of the Owls

The “Owls” Flew at Night to Detect the British
Fleet

Prensa OHF

The extraordinary history of the Naval Air Antisubmarine Squadron

Obtained from a note made to the current Captain VGM Naval Aviator (RE) Daniel Alberto Marinsalta . Exploration missions, little-known stories, but no less dangerous for that reason. Operating from the aircraft carrier (V-2) ARA 25 DE MAYO first and then from continental bases, in marginal conditions, with slow aircraft, lacking defensive weapons and dangerously close to the enemy. History of the air-naval battle that could not be.

By: (*) Oscar Filippi – For: OHF Press

THE CATAPULT:

South Atlantic, May 1, 1982, aboard the aircraft carrier “ARA 25 DE MAYO” (PAL V-2) at 8:30 p.m., Lieutenant Commander Emilio Goitía (pilot), Frigate Lieutenant Daniel Marinsalta (co-pilot ), along with Second Petty Officer Rodolfo Lencina and First Corporal Néstor Conde, walk on the deck of the aircraft carrier towards their “bird”, an S-2E TRACKER, registration (2-AS-26). The mission of this flight is to confirm the position of the British Task Force located NE (Northeast) of Malvinas by the two previous exploration flights (2-AS-23 and 2-AS-24) aircraft also belonging to the Naval Air Squadron. Anti-submarine, which because of its shield (an owl in flight throwing balls at a submarine) is known and respected as “THE OWLS”.



            It was the last flight of that long and tense day, everything was activity on the deck, the crew carried out the visual inspection of the device in the middle of the cold and wind characteristic of that area of the Argentine Sea. Located in their respective seats, the naval pilots prepare to start the twin-engine that will take them to “sweep” the surface of the sea. A characteristic flight of anti-surface exploration and MAE, but this time, on a war mission.

The Grumman S-2E Tracker on the ARA «25 de Mayo» catapult.

“… – TOCO (control tower) , this is DOS ALFA SIERRA DOS SAIS, authorization to launch.”

“… – TWO SAIS, authorized.”

            Quickly, the two engines are running, the systems are thoroughly verified and especially the navigation system on which the accuracy of the information obtained about the enemy will depend. The “radar alert” system is verified, a spectrum analyzer and a “laboratory” oscilloscope that, with Argentine ingenuity and the help of the Technicians of the Aeronaval Arsenal No. 2, had been recently adapted and was the only “survival” element. that would allow them to receive emissions from English radars, letting them know if they were detected.

Shield of the Naval Antisubmarine Squadron of the Argentine Navy.

“…– TOCO, this is TWO SAIS, ready to catapult.”

“…– TWO SAIS, authorized to catapult.”

The rolling of the aircraft carrier is permanent, it is already facing the wind. With the wings spread and the engine test complete, the TRACKER begins taxiing, carefully the legs gently press the wheelhouse, stick behind, nose lightened. They precisely align with the axis of the catapult.

            The mechanical chocks in front of the main landing gear wheels are raised, the throttles are reduced and a group of six men jumps on the plane to check various elements. They secure the plane to the deck of the aircraft carrier (tail hold) using a fuse that is cut by giving steam pressure to the catapult.

Captain VGM (RE) Daniel Alberto Marinsalta, as president of the Aeronaval Institute.

            With everything secured, the mechanical chocks are lowered. Full throttle (full throttle) on both engines. Everything trembles and shakes, the control systems and instruments are verified and checked, with everything in order, by signs, they give the OK to the deck officer. The crew tenses in their seats, the momentum of the catapult will immediately put them into flight.

            The two R-1820-82C radial engines roar and the plane shakes even more, still clinging to the deck..., the tail fuse is cut and the takeoff run begins, approximately 30 meters that are covered in just over a second, obtained The takeoff speed of the TRACKER is dependent on the 3,050 HP of its two “fans”. It was exactly 9:00 p.m. of that historic May 1st.

IN FLIGHT:  

The reference of this story is the current Captain AN (RE) Daniel MARINSALTA, co-pilot in this mission that he tells us aboard the TRACKER registration 2-AS-26. An “OWL” from the NAVAL AIR flying in its element, at night and over the sea.

The Grumman S-2E Tracker aircraft aft of the ARA «25 de Mayo» aircraft carrier along with the A-4Q «Skyhawk» aircraft of the Third Naval Air Fighter and Attack Squadron (EA33).

            “…– Already in flight heading east, we headed towards the last verified point of presence of the enemy naval units, the tactic used was simple and dangerous. Flying low, in the middle of the dark night and over an even blacker sea. We rose and turned on the search radar, just two turns of the antenna, thus trying to prevent the British ships from picking up our broadcast. The first two times it swam, we watched the screen and stuck to the water again. We continue firmly towards the East (E), the third time was the charm. Around 11:00 p.m. we ascended, two turns of the antenna and obtained a large contact and three medium ones at latitude 50º00'(S), longitude 56º25'(W), simultaneously obtaining a MAE signal, distance to the contact, only 38 nautical miles ( NM), about 68.4 kilometers. A chill ran through all of us, we knew that they had detected us, we dived back into the water, at ground level we began to carry out evasive maneuvers. The pilot was flying instruments and I was looking out, the water was splashing on the windshield, that's how low we were flying. The silence was total, like the adrenaline in our bodies.”

         “… – We stayed like this for about fifteen minutes, thinking that we had evaded, we rose to 1,500 feet (ft) about 450 meters, we turned on the radar in search of our fleet, the radio silence had to be absolute, we had to find the aircraft carrier and deliver vital information. We detected the presence of a large fleet of Russian and Polish fishing vessels, then our radar screen began to receive interference (cart wheel), we could no longer do radar search and our fleet continued on its course. We decided to contact the “Air Controller” of the aircraft carrier. Twice and nothing, on the third attempt the “Air Controller” only limited himself to saying: …”

British Aerospace Sea Harrier FRS.1 aircraft like the one that chased the Grumman S-2E Tracker 2-AS-26.

“… – You have two Lobos (enemy aircraft) on the tail, continue heading west (W)”. Again we pointed the nose of the TRACKER at the water and we stuck level again.”

“… – Obviously, the British Task Force had intercepted our radar emission and decided to investigate, they had sent a section (2 planes) of “SEA HARRIER” that, under the command of Captain Mórtimer, took off from the aircraft carrier “HMS INVINCIBLE” shortly after the midnight from May 1st to May 2nd.”

            “The two “SEA HARRIER” were approaching us at 450 knots (Kts), about 810 kilometers per hour, we could barely get away at 135 Kts, about 243 kilometers per hour. Fortunately, the “Wolves” were emitting on a radar frequency very close to ours and we both suffered the same interference. We change the radio frequency to listen to our fleet's communications. The anti-aircraft radar of the Destroyer (D-2) “ARA SANTISIMA TRINIDAD” had detected and “illuminated” the two “Wolves”, consequently on our radio we heard that the Destroyer requested “Free Birds” (authorization to launch the SEA anti-aircraft missiles). DART). Praying that they wouldn't get the wrong white, we stuck even closer to the water, everything outside appeared even blacker."

The Flt. Lt. (captain) Mortimer, the British protagonist of this chase, was shot down in combat on 06/06/82 by the impact of a SAM ROLAND missile on his “SEA HARRIER” FRS-1, individual registration XZ-456.

            “But Captain Mortimer, seeing himself illuminated and knowing that it came from Radar 909 of the Type 42 destroyers, did not risk entering within shooting range and put his “wings on the ground.” “We could return to the aircraft carrier, but the English had also detected us.”

            The Flt. Lt. (captain) Mortimer, the British protagonist of this chase, was shot down in combat on 06/06/82 by the impact of a SAM ROLAND missile on his “SEA HARRIER” FRS-1, individual registration XZ-456. Our respect goes to a fallen warrior. (N of R).

THE HOOK:

Captain Marinsalta continues : “We had been flying for some time with both low fuel lights on, under the stress of a prolonged night flight and in contact with the enemy, we were facing the last challenge of this long day, the final of Attachment to the aircraft carrier, it was 01:10 am. from May 2nd. We could not fail, we had to deliver the precious information.”

            “We had fewer visual references, the deck lights were minimized, communications had to be minimal, already on the final approach, we made a brief flash with the landing beacon to indicate to the aircraft carrier's “signalman” that we had the reference in sight. visual, “ball” at the center of the mirror (light that materializes the slope of approach to the deck).

Returning to the aircraft carrier ARA «25 de Mayo».

“Gear down… flaps down… hook down…, everything down and locked. Lieutenant Commander Emilio Goitía flew with absolute precision the 18 seconds that took us to see the line of green lights that indicate, reduce the accelerators to minimum to hook into one of the four arresting cables on the deck. The pressure of the safety harnesses on the torso, the helmet that seems to push on the back of our neck, everything indicates that... WE ARE HOOKED! We were back home. When we checked the tanks, the remaining fuel was not enough for another approach attempt.”

Lieutenant Commander Emilio Goitía (pilot on the right), Frigate Lieutenant Daniel Marinsalta (co-pilot on the left)

WINDLESS DAWN: Captain Marinsalta ends his story: “Unfortunately, at dawn, when the six A-4Q SKYHAWK aircraft of the 3rd. Naval Air Hunting and Attack Squadron were loaded with three 500 lb bombs. (250 Kg.) each, ready to launch on the British fleet, unusually for the time, the absence of wind was total. The enemy fleet was less than 150 NM (270 km), but the wind component (sum of the relative wind speeds and the aircraft carrier's navigation speed) was not enough to make the launch safe with a full war load. The attack was given up, as were the British. The air-naval battle that perhaps would have changed the course of events in the conflict could not take place.”

            It should be noted that the Naval Aviation during the conflict, totaled 1,000 hours of exploration flight of the Argentine Sea in search of the enemy, making contact on 180 occasions, allowing the subsequent action of the attack aircraft and in others certifying their absence and facilitating security. of flights and logistics navigation. No aircraft were lost on these missions.

            Regarding the Aeronaval Antisubmarine Squadron “LOS BUHOS” , during the conflict it was made up of 79 men, of which 18 were pilots and only 12 system operators. There were four “S-2E TRACKER” aircraft embarked on the aircraft carrier (V-2) ARA “25 DE MAYO” , 2-AS-22, 23, 24 and 26, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Héctor SKARE.