Mistery in the South Atlantic

Source: GUARDACOSTA Magazine – No. 08 – Year 1966
Author: Jorge M. Montañez Santiago

• Uncharted Depths in the South Atlantic: A vast region between 42°S–48°S latitude and 30°W–50°W longitude remains largely unsurveyed, with surrounding depths reaching 4,500–5,400 metres, and containing anomalous shallow areas unusual for such a deep seabed.
• The Enigmatic Discovery by La Roche (1675): French navigator La Roche claimed to have discovered a "large and pleasant island" with a good harbour on its eastern side—an assertion that sparked a long-lasting maritime mystery.
• Centuries of Unsuccessful Searches: Between the late 17th and early 19th centuries, France and Britain sent numerous expeditions—including by Halley, La Pérouse, Colnett, and Vancouver—in an effort to locate the so-called "Great Island," all without success.
• Official Removal from Nautical Charts (1825): After a final, fruitless search by British Captain Dott in 1824–1825, the island was officially declared non-existent and was removed from international nautical maps.
• Enduring Mystery and Speculation: Despite its removal, questions remain: Was La Roche lying, mistaken, or truthful? His detailed description of a harbour on the island’s eastern side suggests he may have indeed seen something real—adding fuel to the mystery’s persistence over time.

Anyone examining a nautical chart of the South Atlantic will notice a vast area, located between parallels 42°S and 48°S and meridians 30°W and 50°W, that lacks soundings. One will also observe that the nearby depths range from 2,500 to 3,000 fathoms (approximately 4,500 to 5,400 metres).

In the western section of this oceanic region—closer to our coasts than to those of any other nation—certain events have taken place over the past three centuries which, collectively, form the subject of this article. As intriguing as the enigma itself is the connection that the mystery seems to bear with our own past. The chart reveals that the referenced region is extremely deep; yet, within it lie some peculiar shallow areas, anomalies in such an abyssal seabed. Located far from current shipping lanes, these waters have remained devoid of maritime traffic, which was redirected following the opening of the Panama Canal in 1914.

Time has once again cast a veil of solitude over the area. The mystery will remain such until a new act unfolds—perhaps the final one. Let us now follow, in chronological order, the acts and actors that take part in the slow unfolding of events on a seabed 5,000 metres deep.

The story begins three centuries ago, in 1675, when the French navigator La Roche reported having discovered a large island in the South Atlantic, describing it as "a large and pleasant island, possessing a good harbour near its eastern side."

Following La Roche’s claim, the second act unfolded over a century and a half of vigorous searching for the fabled Great Island. France and Great Britain competed eagerly, both driven by the pursuit of colonial and strategic holdings. Numerous navigators from both nations—including Halley, La Pérouse, Colnett and Vancouver—explored the region where La Roche had indicated the island’s existence: 45°S latitude, and an uncertain longitude between 37°W and 50°W.

Failure after failure turned the fame and legend of the island into a source of disrepute for its presumed discoverer. At best, the more generous assessments suggested that La Roche may have mistaken an advanced promontory of the South American coast—possibly our own Cabo Dos Bahías, situated at 45°S latitude—for an island.

Nonetheless, maritime powers continued to mark this famous Great Island on their charts. The third act unfolded with the determined search conducted by British Captain Dott in the years 1824 and 1825, which yielded negative results. It was then that the island was officially declared non-existent, and it disappeared from nautical charts around the world. Apparently, the matter ended there.

From what has occurred, three possible conclusions can be drawn:

1. La Roche lied.

2. La Roche was mistaken.

3. La Roche did not lie.

The first hypothesis, while it could be considered a strategic bluff, should only be entertained as a last resort. The second is unlikely. A distant sighting from the west might, perhaps, explain it—yet this possibility must be dismissed when considering La Roche’s description: "possessing a good harbour near its eastern side."
It is reasonable to assume that such a description could only be given by a sailor who had observed—or even explored—the harbour at close quarters.

Source

Malvinas: A Tribute to the Heroes of BIM 5

Commander Carlos Robacio leads the 5th Marine Batallion 5 in Tumbledown

The 5th Marine Infantry Battalion from Río Grande stood alone against the onslaught of the Scots Guards at Mount Tumbledown, writing a glorious page in history.


 


During the 74 days of the Malvinas War, British forces were taken aback by the professionalism and fighting spirit of the Argentine troops. There is extensive British literature on the conflict, and all of it acknowledges the courage and resilience of our forces. One particular unit earned, from the British themselves, the nickname “Battalion from Hell” due to its valour and combat effectiveness. These men were the Marines of the 5th Marine Infantry Battalion (BIM 5).

On 7 April 1982, the personnel of BIM 5, based in Río Grande, arrived in the Malvinas under the command of Commander Carlos Robacio. The troops were deployed in the defensive system around Puerto Argentino, together with the Infantry Regiments RI 25 and RI 8. To reinforce the naval forces, Company C of RI 3 and Company B of RI 6 were also added. This integration of Army and Navy units was unprecedented and proved highly effective thanks to the professionalism and commitment of their officers.

From 1 May, the enemy began an aerial and naval bombardment campaign that severely affected the daily life of the Argentine soldiers. During the day, Harrier jets attacked the nearby airstrip and trench lines; at night, the Royal Navy carried out shelling. Despite this, the Marines maintained strong morale and continued to improve their defensive positions, preparing for the ground battle they knew was drawing near.

They endured 44 days of relentless siege. When fighting around Puerto Argentino began on 12 June, the marines of BIM 5 were ready to enter history. The British attack started at dusk and continued through the night. The first unpleasant surprise for the attackers was the presence of heavy machine gun nests equipped with infrared sights, which stalled their advance. Artillery exchanges followed, with the British enjoying an advantage thanks to their longer-range guns and greater mobility. Nevertheless, Argentine artillerymen fought with bravery and professionalism, firing until their last rounds, with barrels glowing red-hot.



On 13 June, the British launched their final offensive. They concentrated all their forces—paratroopers and Royal Marines—achieving a 3-to-1 numerical superiority over our Marines at the main breach. The artillery fire was intense, and naval artillery joined the barrage. Our own artillery, undeterred, responded at a rate of 1,000 rounds per hour, choosing to die on their feet rather than abandon their comrades.

In the late afternoon, the British attempted a flanking manoeuvre via Mount Harriet to distract the Argentine command. Robacio did not take the bait and instead set a deadly trap: he ambushed the enemy, pinning them between a minefield and artillery fire, while positioning Marines at their rear to block retreat. The outcome was heroic. The British were crushed by our artillery and infantry fire. Two hours later, the British company commander requested a ceasefire, citing the harrowing cries of the wounded as demoralising his troops. This ceasefire allowed the arrival of helicopters to evacuate the injured. No shots were fired at the helicopters, which were unarmed and clearly only conducting medical evacuation.

In the early hours of 14 June, the Scots Guards moved to the centre of the assault on Puerto Argentino. The firefight was intense. So many tracer rounds filled the sky that it seemed like daylight. In the final moments of the assault, the fighting became hand-to-hand. Argentine forces repelled the attack with fixed bayonets and requested artillery and mortar fire directly on their own positions, as the enemy had reached them. Second Lieutenant Silva and NCO Castillo called for a counterattack after being overrun. They left their positions and launched a bayonet charge until they were killed.

Commander Robacio personally led the counterattack, retaking lost positions and pushing the Scots Guards back to their original lines. By 3 a.m., amid a heavy snowfall, the Marines prepared another counteroffensive against the British paratroopers and requested authorisation as their forward units engaged the enemy. The order from Puerto Argentino was to withdraw, as it had become impossible to resupply 105 mm howitzers and mortars. Despite this setback, morale remained high, and it was difficult to convince the Marines to abandon their positions. With iron discipline, they withdrew from Mount Tumbledown and fell back.

A well-executed withdrawal under enemy pressure is one of the most difficult manoeuvres in military doctrine. History offers many examples of such withdrawals turning into deadly routs. But with pride, the Marines of BIM 5 took up new positions on the outskirts of Puerto Argentino, still determined to fight. Gurkha troops were dispatched to pursue the Argentines to make up for the Scots' poor performance, but they were halted and counterattacked—even though our men had run out of ammunition.

At dawn on Monday, 14 June 1982, BIM 5 had no ammunition left. In 36 hours, they had fired 17,000 artillery shells and all their mortar rounds. At 10 a.m., the ceasefire order came from Puerto Argentino. The battalion was still in combat formation. Commander Robacio requested confirmation of the order. His unit entered the capital of the islands in full marching formation, carrying all their personal weapons. Tragically, a section of the Navy Company that had been separated did not receive the order and at 12:30 engaged a landing of six British helicopters, shooting down two and suffering the loss of the last three Argentine soldiers in combat.

In military history, few units have endured 44 hours of bombardment without relief and then faced the enemy with such courage and determination. The Argentine forces at Tumbledown included 700 Marines and 200 soldiers, who confronted 3,000 of the best-trained troops of the British Armed Forces. Seventy-five per cent of our heroes were conscripts. BIM 5 suffered 30 killed and 105 wounded, inflicting an estimated 360 casualties on the enemy (a figure never officially recognised, though many British officers have acknowledged it privately).

How did they endure such hardship and fight with such determination? BIM 5 and RI 25 were the only units acclimatised to the Malvinas. They were well equipped, and their officers were professional and competent. They also shared a remarkable esprit de corps. As an example: on 14 June at 10:30, during the retreat to Sapper Hill, Commander Daniel Ponce collapsed from exhaustion. Amid gunfire, two conscripts rushed to carry him. Ponce ordered them to leave him and flee. Their reply: “Captain, if we die, we die together.” They lifted him and withdrew. That was the spirit of the marines of BIM 5, who gave everything for their country.

Pulqui II: A Prototype Betrayed by Politics

The Day When The Pulqui Became Pulquiría

On 31 May 1951, the fate of the IA-33 Pulqui II was definitively sealed. Rather than investing decisively in its development and mass production, the Peronist government chose to relegate it to the role of a technological demonstrator, effectively dismantling Argentina’s opportunity to position itself at the forefront of global military aviation. This decision, ultimately the responsibility of President Juan Domingo Perón, was critical to the project's failure.

That day, during a test flight of the second prototype, Captain Vedania Adriel Mannuwal was killed while attempting to eject from the aircraft. The crash exposed severe structural deficiencies: one wing detached mid-flight due to faulty welding of its anchor bolts, and the ejection system failed owing to its overly complex operation. Yet the most alarming aspect was that this was an unapproved prototype, being recklessly used for pilot training manoeuvres, exposing personnel to unacceptable risks.



El Pulqui II fue fruto de una coyuntura histórica excepcional. Argentina, al finalizar la Segunda Guerra Mundial, se encontraba entre las pocas naciones con acceso a tecnología de propulsión a chorro. Esta situación fue facilitada, paradójicamente, por su relación con el Reino Unido, que le proveyó motores y repuestos militares sin restricciones. El Instituto Aerotécnico —posteriormente Fábrica Militar de Aviones— ya tenía experiencia en diseño y producción, pero nunca alcanzó una escala industrial significativa. Los modelos IAe-22 y Calquín, diseñados antes del peronismo, son prueba de ello.



The Pulqui II emerged during an exceptional historical juncture. In the aftermath of the Second World War, Argentina found itself among the few nations with access to jet propulsion technology. This was largely thanks to its relationship with the United Kingdom, which supplied engines and military parts without restrictions. The Aerotechnical Institute—later the Military Aircraft Factory—had a background in design and production, but had never reached industrial-scale output. Earlier aircraft such as the IAe-22 and the Calquín, both conceived prior to the Peronist period, demonstrate this limitation.

With the arrival of German engineer Kurt Tank, a specialist in advanced aircraft design, Argentina hoped to capitalise on his expertise. In collaboration with local engineers, Tank led the development of the Pulqui II—a swept-wing fighter jet powered by a Rolls Royce Nene II engine, capable of speeds around 1,080 km/h. At its inception, it was not far behind its contemporaries, such as the American F-86 Sabre and Soviet MiG-15. However, while these foreign aircraft were already being mass-produced and deployed, the Pulqui II remained a prototype in an early development phase, hampered by delays, redesigns and a series of serious accidents.



The programme faced recurring technical issues: structural failures, landing gear malfunctions, instability during certain manoeuvres, and an underpowered engine. These challenges were not insurmountable, but overcoming them required sustained funding, highly skilled personnel, and, above all, political will. None of these factors were sufficiently present.



Between 1950 and 1953—a period crucial for industrial transition—the Peronist government failed to provide the necessary support. The tragic death of Captain Mannuwal, followed by the fatal crash of German test pilot Otto Bherens in 1952, were not isolated incidents but direct consequences of a political approach that prioritised symbolism over technical maturity. Most egregiously, the prototype was used for combat training purposes before it had even completed its flight testing phase—a grossly irresponsible act.



In 1953, a fourth prototype was flown, featuring several improvements including a pressurised cockpit and mounted cannons. But by then, global aviation had already moved on. While Argentina was still trying to perfect a subsonic prototype, major powers were entering the era of supersonic flight with aircraft like the F-100 Super Sabre and MiG-19.



By the time of the 1955 military coup, the Pulqui II was still unapproved for service. Only one prototype remained operational, and its development was far from complete. Although a small group of engineers attempted to keep the project alive, including undertaking ambitious long-distance flights with full weapon loads, the technological gap had become unbridgeable. One such flight nearly ended in disaster when pilot Rogelio Balado suffered from hypoxia due to faulty oxygen equipment, highlighting once more the unresolved safety issues.



In 1956, Brigadier Ahrens met with engineer Guillot, head of planning at the Military Aircraft Factory, and was informed that only enough materials remained to build roughly a dozen aircraft. Despite a proposal to manufacture 100 units, the infrastructure inherited from the Peronist era could not support such output. While the Air Force held a licence to produce the Nene II engine, it would have taken five years to build those twelve aircraft—an unviable timeline for a design already technologically outdated.



Faced with an urgent need to replace ageing IA-24 Calquín aircraft, Ahrens pointed to an alternative: an offer of 100 F-86 Sabres, available immediately. Ultimately, only 28 second-hand F-86F-NA-30s were acquired—without the Orenda engine variant initially considered—but these were delivered in 1960. Despite the delay, the aircraft proved cost-effective, logistically supportable, and operationally viable—something that the Pulqui II, even in the best-case scenario, could never have achieved with just a dozen units and no production infrastructure.



The sole Pulqui II prototype continued limited test flights under the post-coup government, eventually receiving formal approval but never progressing to series production. Its final flight occurred around 1961, with the last prototype flown in 1959. By then, the aircraft was obsolete. The critical investment period had passed, and by 1955 the project remained unapproved, unfinished, and incapable of fulfilling any real strategic role. Its fate was sealed back in 1951, when combat pilots were ordered to fly an untested prototype still deep in its experimental phase—a criminally negligent decision. Blaming the 1955 coup ignores the real issue: the failure to act when it truly mattered. Pilots ended up nicknaming it 'Pulquiría' — a play on words resembling porquería (meaning 'rubbish' in Spanish) — due to its poor performance.



Today, both the Pulqui I and Pulqui II are preserved in the National Aeronautics Museum in Morón, following years of neglect in open air. They serve as relics of a missed opportunity—symbols of a time when Argentina could have broken into the elite of aerospace nations, but failed to do so through indecision, political vanity, and a lack of genuine strategic commitment.



Captain Vedania Adriel Mannuwal, of the 4th Interceptor Fighter Regiment of the Argentine Air Force, acted with a profound sense of duty and national service. His sacrifice, made in pursuit of institutional advancement and national greatness, remains unquestionable—a noble Argentine who gave his life for an ideal that, sadly, others failed to uphold. 

Argentine Navy: Lighthouse Beauvoir

Lighthouse Beauvoir

Opening: 23 October 1980

The most notable feature of this beacon is that it is installed atop the tower of the Church of Our Lady of the Watch (Nuestra Señora de la Guardia), in the city of Puerto Deseado, Province of Santa Cruz.

Geographical location: Lat. 47°45' S, Long. 65°53' W

It is a rotating lighthouse connected to the church’s municipal electricity supply, with a range of 19 nautical miles. The tower stands 27 metres tall.

Origin of the name:
The name of this lighthouse honours Reverend Father José María Beauvoir, a tireless Salesian missionary who travelled extensively throughout Patagonia between 1881 and 1924.

Nautical Chart Sector No. 60
“From Cape Tres Puntas to Cape San Francisco de Paula”
Published by the Naval Hydrographic Service.

Source: www.hidro.gov.ar

Argentine Navy: ARA Hércules (D-28 / D-1 / B-52)

ARA Hércules (D-28 / D-1 / B-52)

ARA Hércules (D-28) was the only air-defence vessel operating in the South Atlantic Theatre of Operations (TOA). Equipped with four Exocet missiles and twenty-two Sea Dart surface-to-air missiles — which also had a secondary anti-ship capability — under ideal conditions, it alone could potentially have neutralised the entire Chilean Squadron.

The fast transport ship ARA Hércules (B-52) (TRHE) was a multipurpose rapid transport vessel of the Argentine Navy. It was built in the 1970s as a Type 42 destroyer and, following a refit in the 1990s, was reclassified as a fast transport. It was officially decommissioned and the national ensign was finally lowered on 20 June 2024, after 48 years of service.

Armed with Sea Dart surface-to-air missiles, its mission — along with its sister ship, the destroyer ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2) — was to provide area air-defence for the light aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo (V-2), operating via data link.

Flag
History
Shipyard	Vickers Shipbuilding, Barrow-in-Furness, UK
Class	Type 42
Type	Guided-Missile Destroyer
Operator	Argentine Navy
Authorized	May 18th, 1970
Keel Laying	June, 7th 1973
Launched	May 10th, 1976, Barrow
Commissioned	June 1976 (Affirmation of the Argentine Ensign) July 1977 (incorporated to the Sea Fleet)
Decommissioned	March 22, 2024 (decommissioned)​ June 20, 2024 (Final lowering of the ensign)
Faith	Decommissioned, she is moored at Puerto Belgrano
General Specifications
Displacement	4100 tonnes at full load
Length	125,6 m
Beam	14,3 m
Draught	5,8 m
Armament	1 twin launcher for 22 GWS-30 Sea Dart Mk30 surface-to-air missiles 1 Vickers 115 mm (4.5")/55 Mk 8 automatic naval gun 2 Oerlikon 20 mm Mk 7 machine guns 4 MM-38 Exocet (SSM) missile launchers 2 triple 324 mm ILAS 3 torpedo tube launchers (firing Whitehead AS-244 torpedoes: 6 km range at 30 knots)
Propulsion	COGOG (Combined Gas or Gas) 2 Rolls-Royce Olympus TM38 gas turbines 2 Rolls-Royce Tyne RM1A gas turbines 2 propeller shafts
Powerplant	• Olympus TM38: 50 000 HP • Tyne RM1A: 9900 HP
Velocidad	• 30 knots  (Olympus) • 18 knots (Tyne)
Endurance	4500 nautical miles at 18 knots
Crew	166
Troops	238 full-geared marines
Aircraft	2 Sikorsky SH-3 Sea King helicopters
Aircraft facilites	Hangar

History

The vessel was originally built as a Type 42 destroyer, similar to the units of the same class commissioned by the British Royal Navy. It was constructed at the Vickers Shipbuilding yard in Barrow-in-Furness, United Kingdom, concurrently with the HMS Sheffield, the lead ship of the British series, which was sunk during the Malvinas War.

Following an irreparable fire that destroyed the stern of HMS Sheffield, a complete stern section from ARA Hércules was used in the British vessel. As a result, the Vickers 4.5" (115 mm)/55 Mk 8 automatic naval gun mounted on the British ship originally belonged to the Argentine destroyer.



F

The vessel was built as a Type 42 destroyer, similar to those commissioned by the British Royal Navy. It was constructed at the Vickers Shipbuilding yards in Barrow-in-Furness, United Kingdom, concurrently with HMS Sheffield, the lead ship of the British class, which was later sunk during the Falklands War. After an irreparable fire destroyed the stern of HMS Sheffield, a full stern section from ARA Hércules was used to repair her. As a result, the Vickers 4.5" (115 mm)/55 Mk 8 automatic gun mounted on the British ship originally belonged to the Argentine vessel.

She was delivered to the Argentine Navy and entered service on 19 September 1977. Upon commissioning, she was assigned to the 1st Destroyer Division as the guided missile destroyer ARA Hércules (D-28), DEHE, with Puerto Belgrano Naval Base as her home port. When her sister ship ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2) joined the fleet, Hércules was redesignated as D-1, under which she operated until her conversion into a fast transport.

Several Argentine Navy ships have carried the name “Hércules”, but the most iconic remains the flagship of Admiral Guillermo Brown during the wars of independence — the famous “Black Frigate”, so named for her dark sails. The legacy of the name Hércules lives on today through this troop transport vessel.

Beagle Conflict

In December 1978, as part of Operation Soberanía, ARA Hércules formed part of Task Group 2 alongside the aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo (V-2), with the mission to militarily occupy Lennox, Nueva and Picton Islands and Cape Horn, then in dispute with Chile. The operation was ultimately not carried out, and the Argentine Fleet began its withdrawal to Puerto Belgrano.


Malvinas War

In 1982, together with her sister ship ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2), ARA Hércules took part in escorting ARA Veinticinco de Mayo during the Malvinas War. She participated in the initial landings to recover the islands, and her embarked helicopter operated for several hours at Puerto Argentino Airport.

In early May, the Argentine Task Force anticipated a naval air engagement with the British Royal Navy’s Task Force. At one point, Hércules’ early warning radar detected a Sea Harrier from HMS Invincible being vectored to intercept a Grumman S-2 Tracker launched from Veinticinco de Mayo, which was attempting to locate the British fleet for a coordinated strike. However, favourable conditions for such an attack never materialised, and the Argentine ships withdrew to shallower waters, beyond the threat range of British nuclear submarines. Hércules continued operating in coastal patrol zones near the Argentine mainland.

Post-war

Following her service in the 1st Destroyer Division and later her reassignment to the Amphibious Naval Command, ARA Hércules regularly participated in naval exercises — known as “Etapas de Mar” — alongside other vessels of the Sea Fleet, the Maritime Patrol Division, the Submarine Force, as well as aircraft and helicopters of Naval Aviation, and in amphibious exercises with the Marine Corps. She also took part in joint naval operations with foreign forces.

In 1988, she visited the port of Buenos Aires along with most ships of the Sea Fleet, including her sister ship D-2.

In 1993, she carried out her final live-fire exercise with a GWS-30 Sea Dart missile. From that point, she began operating with spare parts salvaged from ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2), which had been inactive since 1989 and was progressively cannibalised.

In 1994, she was transferred to the Amphibious and Logistics Naval Command (COAL), and by 1999, she underwent a major conversion into a fast transport vessel, with substantial modifications to her flight deck and helicopter hangar to accommodate two Sea King medium helicopters. These works were carried out at the Chilean Navy’s ASMAR shipyard in Talcahuano, with final completion between 2004 and 2006 at the Puerto Belgrano Naval Arsenal in Argentina.

In 2009, her Sea Dart missile launcher was removed, and the space was converted to house four MKV assault boats for the Argentine Marine Corps.

Among her deployments, she took part in the 1998 edition of the combined exercise “UNITAS”, and the amphibious phase of Exercise “Fraterno” in 2006. As a troop transport unit, she continues to participate in amphibious operations and all phases of fleet manoeuvres. In 2009, she underwent a major overhaul at CINAR (Argentine Naval Industrial Complex), rejoining the fleet in April of that year after maintenance of her hull, valves, and systems. That same year, she participated in a maritime control patrol and the search for survivors of the fishing vessel Atlantic, lost during a storm.

Between 2004 and 2012, she took part in all amphibious training exercises of the Sea Fleet, including the “Inalaf” exercises with embarked Marine Corps personnel from the Chilean Navy. During the same period, she also hosted training voyages for cadets of the Argentine Naval Academy (ESNM) along the national coastline, visiting ports such as Ushuaia and Puerto Madryn.

2010s

The vessel continued its annual live-fire training, amphibious exercises, and fleet manoeuvres, as well as port visits along the Argentine coast (such as Necochea) and training cruises with cadets from the Naval Academy and midshipmen from the Petty Officers’ School of the Navy.

Conversion

The ship underwent an initial conversion process in Chile (at ASMAR, the Chilean Navy’s shipyard) and later in Argentina (at the Puerto Belgrano Naval Base, ARPB) during the late 1990s. Modifications included an expanded flight deck and hangar to accommodate and operate two Sea King helicopters armed with Exocet AM39 missiles, and an upgrade of its electronic systems, with INVAP, Argentina’s state technology company, contributing to additional systems reengineering.

Subsequently assigned to the Amphibious Naval Command, the ship began operating as a multipurpose fast transport under its new permanent designation: B-52. Its redesign allowed it to function as a fast troop landing ship. Interior spaces were converted into troop berths for embarked Marine Corps (IM) personnel.

The two radar domes (Type 909) and the Sea Dart missile launcher on the foredeck were removed. The vessel is equipped with a fully Argentine-developed Automated Command and Control System (SITACC), implemented through the SIAG-2006 platform. These upgrades also allowed the integration of a Combat Information Centre (CIC) for the KFD General Staff when embarked, and the installation of eight external mountings for safely securing MK V assault boats used by the Marine Corps.

The hangar doors were once again overhauled and modified by INVAP, and currently operate without major issues. For surface-to-air defence, RBS-70 missiles are deployed on an elevated aft platform with internal communications, where they are mounted during training voyages that include live-fire exercises.

Decommissioning

The vessel had been held in reserve status since 2013. It was officially decommissioned on 22 March 2024, and the final lowering of the ensign took place at Puerto Belgrano on 20 June 2024. The ship now awaits its final disposition.

Specifications

Original

Engines

• 2 Olympus TM38 gas turbines, 50,000 HP

• 2 Tyne RM1A gas turbines, 9,900 HP

• 2 propellers

Colours

• Hull and superstructure, including launchers, domes, lower mast sections, flight deck, and other surfaces painted in matte Admiralty grey

• Underwater hull (anti-fouling) in red anti-rust coating

• Waterline, mast tops, and funnel in matte black

• Flight deck marked with a white circle and white identification number with black shadow

General Characteristics

• Sister ship of the HMS Sheffield, which was destroyed and sunk at 53°04′S 56°56′W

• Standard displacement: 3,150 tonnes

• Full load displacement: 4,100 tonnes

• Length between perpendiculars: 119.50 metres

• Beam: 14.63 metres

• Maximum draught: 6.8 metres
  
  

Propulsion system

• COGOG configuration:

  • 2 Rolls-Royce Olympus MM3B gas turbines delivering 54,900 HP for maximum speed

  • 2 Rolls-Royce Tyne gas turbines providing 8,200 HP for cruising speed

Crew

• Between 300 and 312 personnel

Additions from the Conversion

The cantilevered flight deck and stern openings allow for the rapid deployment or recovery of inflatable boats ("Zodiacs") used by special forces. The ship is capable of carrying 238 fully equipped marines without any reduction in her maximum speed of 30 knots.

INVAP redesigned the hangar door system as well as made certain modifications to the stern section of the vessel. The door is operated both electromechanically and manually, with a minimum opening width on each side of 6.2 metres and a height clearance of 5.4 metres. It is weatherproof and blocks exterior light radiation. The minimum opening/closing speed is 10 cm/s, and the maximum manual opening time is 5 minutes, under conditions of rolling, pitching, permanent list, and extreme wind pressure (with lateral inclination up to 30° and frontal inclination up to 10°, simultaneously).

The ship also features expanded accommodation capacity to transport a reinforced Marine Infantry Company, a dedicated operations room for the embarked Marine General Staff, and two fully equipped classrooms.

Its two 909 radomes and the Sea Dart missile launcher were removed. The deck has since been fitted with metal racks and electric winches for transporting MK-V landing craft, as well as a cargo hold for storing equipment.

Electronics

Navigation

• 2 GPS systems, integrated with the digital chart system and providing cartographic display both on the bridge and in the Combat Information Centre (CIC) via LCD screens

• 1 digital log

• 1 echo sounder

• 3 VHF radio units for maritime safety

Command and Advisory System

• Command and Advisory System – SITAC 2006

• Integrated consoles with visual interface

• Designed and installed domestically by SIAG – Puerto Belgrano (2006)

Communications

• HF - UHF y VHF (Low Band) Equipment
• Datalink- LINK ARA.

Radars

• Long-range Air Search - Marconi 965 (IFF).
• Surface Search - Marconi 992.
• Kelvin Hughes 1006 Helicopter Control.
• DECCA 1229 Navigation.

 

 

Malvinas: Aerolíneas Argentinas' Secret Cargo Operations

Did You Know This Story?

43 years ago, Aerolíneas Argentinas flew covert missions to bring weapons home for the Malvinas War.

Their pilots and cabin crews accumulated acts of courage and solidarity that continue to make Argentines proud across generations. In 1982, seven of them undertook a daring secret operation to Israel, Libya, and South Africa to retrieve weapons that would later be used in the defence of our sovereignty during the Malvinas conflict.

As the war unfolded, they flew to the islands, to Río Gallegos, and to Comodoro Rivadavia—transporting soldiers, supplies, and equipment, without fanfare, but with a fierce commitment to their country.

For years, this story circulated in whispers and half-truths. But in 2012, the veil was lifted. The seven pilots—Gezio Bresciani, Ramón Arce, Leopoldo Arias, Juan Carlos Ardalla, Jorge Prelooker, Mario Bernard, and Luis Cuniberti—broke their silence and recounted the clandestine flights to the Middle East in what came to be known as Operación Aerolíneas.

The Boeing 707s flew a total of six missions: two to Israel and four to Libya. Every single one of them was carried out in radio silence, with all navigational lights switched off. "The aircraft couldn’t be a trail in the sky—it had to be a ghost," one of the pilots recalled.

When entering radar zones was unavoidable, they gave false positions. At the time, NATO satellites and the Western intelligence networks swept across the Atlantic with a ruthless gaze. For the British, the entire ocean was a theatre of war—any unidentified or suspicious aircraft was at risk of being intercepted or shot down.

After 2 April, an order came down from the top brass at the Edificio Cóndor: civilian aircraft and their crews were to serve the Armed Forces’ High Command. Pilots were summoned one by one, told only that their country needed them—and they answered without hesitation.



“When someone tells you your country is at war, and that you can help—well, you don’t think twice,”
said Bresciani in 2012, then 71, recalling the string of secret missions to distant lands in search of arms.

This chapter in our history—bold, silent, and patriotic—is a reminder that Argentines have always stood ready to defend their homeland, not just with weapons, but with resolve, unity, and honour in the skies.

April, the 2nd: The Landing Experience of the Argentine Marines

Lived Experiences During the South Atlantic War 

Account by 𝘑𝘶𝘢𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪 – 𝘛𝘕𝘐𝘔 𝘝𝘎𝘔 (𝘙)



Malvinas 1982

Landing and Seizure of the Beachhead

It was 04:00 on the 2nd of April 1982 when reveille was sounded. I remember waking up and heading to the bathroom to take a shower and put on the new combat uniform I had packed in my rucksack, which I had brought especially for what I considered the most glorious day of my military career. I was going into combat to fulfil the oath I had made to our flag on 20th June 1974: to defend it with my life if necessary!

Boarding time for the Amphibious Tracked Vehicles (ATVs) was 05:45, and so we did – in order, in silence (despite the commands that could be heard).
At 06:00, the first four ATVs, under the command of CCIM Hugo Jorge Santillán, set off. Among that initial wave was our fellow graduate TCIM Carlos Ramón Schweizer.

I disembarked from the Command ATV, which was led by the Commander of BIM2 and Commander of Task Force 40.1, CFIM Alfredo Raúl Weinstabl. The initial leg of the crossing to the landing beach was made with the ATV hatches sealed shut. For those who have never landed in an amphibious vehicle, it's important to understand that such an approach under those conditions is highly dangerous. Had British forces had the opportunity to open fire on us, we would have become sitting ducks, and many of us would likely have ended up in the cold waters of the South Atlantic, given that the amphibious vehicles we were travelling in were not armoured.

Just before we reached the beach, the top hatches were opened, allowing us to peek out and see the tracer fire streaking through the darkness (it was still night at that hour), clear evidence that fighting had already begun ashore. Naturally, my blood was racing in anticipation of making landfall and entering combat. Fear: NONE. Uncertainty: COMPLETE.



We finally landed without suffering any casualties among personnel or vehicles.
We immediately advanced towards the airport at what was then still Port Stanley. There was no enemy resistance, but we observed that the runway was blocked by vehicles and other obstacles, which would have prevented any aircraft from landing. The Commander gave the order to clear it. Just then, we received word that the vehicles under CCIM Santillán had come under enemy fire. One had been hit multiple times by machine-gun fire, and a conscript had sustained a minor shrapnel wound to the hand.

CFIM Weinstabl promptly ordered the driver of the Command ATV to head towards that position, accompanied by Delta Company under TNIM Di Paola.
We reached the forward position and dismounted from the amphibious vehicles. At this moment, I recall an anecdote involving Carlos Schweizer: as we dismounted, I saw Carlos standing and adjusting the heels of his conscripts to prevent a common wartime injury – being hit in the heels due to improper prone positioning. I shouted at him, “Bizcocho, get down, they’re shooting at us!” He turned around laughing and obeyed. I then told him, “Those recoilless rifles from Di Filippo (SSIM and Head of BIM2’s Recoilless Rifles) are making quite a racket!” To which he replied, “That’s the English mortars firing at us.”
At that moment, I thought, “You die in war without even realising it.” What I had assumed were our own cannons turned out to be enemy fire.

A key shot from one of our recoilless rifles forced the British troops to retreat into the settlement.



The forward elements remounted the vehicles and moved to support the Amphibious Commandos in Moody Brook. However, those forces had already completed their mission and were near Port Stanley from the opposite direction of the BIM2 advance, so Captain Santillán continued his operation to secure the Camber Peninsula.

Meanwhile, the Battalion Companies entered the town without resistance, took control of their designated responsibility zones, and established full control over the population and essential public services.
As we moved into the urban area of Port Stanley, we came under sniper fire. We quickly hit the ground, and I noticed a window where a curtain was being moved by the wind. I requested permission from Captain Weinstabl to return fire at that location, but, in accordance with the initial directive to recover the Islands without bloodshed, he denied my request.

The incident did not repeat, and we resumed our advance, eventually reaching a location where the Commander gathered the Officers of the vanguard. I realised we were in front of a two-storey building that looked like a gymnasium.
Considering that Royal Marines might be hiding inside, I requested permission to search it. Captain Weinstabl authorised me to enter with TCIM Gazzolo and two NCOs.

We entered the building and saw that to access the first floor there were two side staircases. I told Gazzolo to take the right flank with one of the NCOs, and I took the left with the other.




We advanced carefully, given our exposed position, and reached a room where we found five Royal Marines who had apparently surrendered – their five Sterling submachine guns lay on a table with their magazines removed – along with a female police officer.

We conducted a standard search of the British soldiers but did not touch the female officer.
After verifying that the soldiers had no other weapons, they were placed under guard and prepared for transfer to the Prisoner Collection Point (PRP).

But the biggest surprise came when we opened the door to a larger hall and discovered Argentine civilians who had been imprisoned there.
We freed them and sent the prisoners to the PRP.

Malvinas: A Struggle for Sovereignty and Dignity

The Malvinas War: Forty Years On—A Struggle for Sovereignty and Dignity

By Manuel Remira Oyón| Reflections | 14 May 2025

Preface

As a Chilean, writing about the Malvinas War is no small undertaking, especially given the historical tensions between Chile and Argentina. In April 1982, when Argentina reclaimed the Malvinas Islands—territory unquestionably part of its continental shelf and its sovereign rights—Chile’s military regime under Pinochet chose the wrong side of history, aligning itself with Britain and providing covert support to the colonial power. This shameful episode underscored the deep divisions sowed by dictatorship and the betrayal of Latin American unity in the face of imperialism.

It must be clear: the complicity of Pinochet’s regime in undermining Argentina’s rightful claim does not reflect the will of the Chilean people, who have long harboured a sense of solidarity with their Argentine brothers and sisters in their quest to end the last vestiges of colonial rule in our region.

A Fight Rooted in Principle

The Malvinas War was not a random clash, nor was it a folly of the moment. It was the culmination of nearly 150 years of Argentina’s steadfast insistence on the return of territory that had been seized by force. The Malvinas were recognised as part of Spanish South America, and after Argentina’s independence, as part of its national territory. Britain's occupation in 1833 was a flagrant act of imperial aggression, displacing Argentine settlers and establishing an outpost that has remained, to this day, a colonial relic.

This was not a marginal grievance. The Malvinas became a symbol of Argentina’s ongoing struggle for sovereignty and self-determination—a cause enshrined in international law and recognised by numerous United Nations resolutions calling for dialogue and resolution between the two parties. The islands’ strategic location in the South Atlantic and their proximity to Antarctica have always been of immense geopolitical significance, a fact long obscured by those who dismiss the conflict as over “barren rocks.”

The injustice of colonial occupation weighed heavily on the Argentine people, who, regardless of the shifting sands of political leadership, never relinquished their claim. The 1982 conflict, therefore, was not merely a military manoeuvre but the physical manifestation of a centuries-old demand for justice.

The Dictatorship’s Double Crime

It is undeniable that Argentina’s military dictatorship was a brutal regime, responsible for grave human rights violations. But the Malvinas cause stands apart from the crimes of the junta. The junta’s opportunistic timing—seizing on a noble cause to shore up its crumbling legitimacy—should never be confused with the righteousness of Argentina’s claim. If anything, the dictatorship’s mishandling of the conflict and its betrayal of the soldiers it sent to war only deepened Argentina’s national trauma.

Thousands of young conscripts, many from impoverished provinces in northern Argentina, were sent ill-prepared and under-equipped into battle. These were not seasoned soldiers; they were boys thrust into the freezing winds of the South Atlantic, bearing the weight of their nation’s hopes and the burden of their leaders’ incompetence. Their courage, in the face of overwhelming odds, was nothing short of heroic.

The British forces, equipped with superior technology and backed by one of the world’s most powerful navies, faced fierce resistance. The Argentine Air Force, despite limited resources, mounted daring attacks that resulted in significant British losses—ships sunk, aircraft destroyed, and lives lost. These victories on the battlefield were a testament to the valour and resilience of Argentine forces, who fought not for conquest but for liberation.

A War That Echoed Far Beyond the Battlefield

The consequences of the Malvinas War extended well beyond its 74 days of combat. For Argentina, the war precipitated the fall of the dictatorship and the return to democracy—a profound transformation that reshaped the nation’s trajectory. For Britain, it reinvigorated a government facing domestic unpopularity, entrenching policies of neoliberal austerity that would have lasting repercussions.

Yet the most enduring legacy is the wound that remains open: the unresolved sovereignty dispute. Decades on, the British government continues to maintain its colonial hold over the Malvinas, defying international calls for negotiation and dialogue. The islanders' right to self-determination, often cited by London, must be understood within the context of a population settled by the colonial power itself, a factor that complicates but does not nullify Argentina’s legitimate claim.

Honouring the Fallen and the Forgotten

The soldiers who returned from the Malvinas—victims of both war and neglect—were met not with the honour they deserved, but with silence and marginalisation. Many have since succumbed to the invisible wounds of war, their struggles largely ignored by successive governments. It is estimated that hundreds of veterans have taken their own lives, a silent testament to the deep scars left by the conflict.

The sacrifice of these men demands remembrance, not only as a chapter in Argentina’s history but as a reminder of the broader fight against colonialism. Their courage stands as a rebuke to the complacency of the international community, which has too often turned a blind eye to the persistence of imperial claims in our hemisphere.

The Path Forward

The Malvinas question is far from resolved. While military conflict must never again be the means, Argentina’s claim remains as valid today as it was in 1833. The road to justice lies in persistent diplomacy, international advocacy, and the unwavering resolve of the Argentine people to see their sovereign rights respected.

To dismiss the Malvinas as a relic of the past is to ignore the living legacy of colonialism—a legacy that continues to shape geopolitics in the South Atlantic and beyond. The cause of the Malvinas is not merely Argentina’s cause; it is the cause of all who stand for sovereignty, self-determination, and the end of imperial dominion.

Forty years on, the memory of the Malvinas War endures as a solemn reminder of what was lost and what remains to be reclaimed. It is a testament to a nation's dignity—a dignity that no war, no defeat, and no occupation can extinguish.

Triple Alliance War: Corrientes Fall and Argentina is Drawn into War

Corrientes Fall into Paraguayan Claws

April 13, 1865 — Paraguay Attacks the City of Corrientes: The War of the Triple Alliance Begins

Moored at the port of the provincial capital Corrientes were two Argentine ships, the 25 de Mayo and the Gualeguay. Both vessels were in port for repairs — unarmed, with reduced crews, and some sailors on shore leave.

On the morning of April 13, 1865, around six o’clock, five Paraguayan steamships appeared off the shores of Corrientes. Without any declaration of war, they swiftly positioned themselves and attacked the defenseless Argentine ships — an unprovoked, treacherous assault.

Outnumbered, the Argentine sailors mounted a heroic resistance, but they were soon overpowered and captured. Three hundred Paraguayan sailors seized around eighty Argentines; several who had already surrendered were immediately executed — beheaded by Guaraní fighters. The Argentine flags were struck down, thrown to the ground, while the attackers shouted praises for Marshal Solano López. Some sailors tried to escape by diving into the water but were shot and killed.

Meanwhile, 2,500 Paraguayan troops landed in the city of Corrientes, occupying the provincial capital. Other Paraguayan columns invaded the Mesopotamian provinces via various crossings, bringing the invasion force to a total of 27,000 men.

The surviving Argentine sailors would spend the rest of the war in captivity under inhumane conditions; many would die in prison. The Paraguayan occupation of Corrientes was harsh and brutal: kidnappings, rapes, destruction of Argentine property, and summary executions. Five local women — some with young children — were famously kidnapped and taken to Paraguay, later remembered as the “Cautivas correntinas”.

The legitimate governor, Manuel Lagraña, managed to escape with some soldiers into the provincial interior, seeking to gather men to repel the Paraguayan invasion. The invaders, in turn, set up a puppet government, fully subject to Asunción’s decisions.

It would take nearly a year — and bloody battles like Yatay and Pehuajó — to finally expel the invaders from Corrientes province.

This Paraguayan attack would ultimately trigger Argentina’s formal entry into the war, marking the start of the bloody War of the Triple Alliance.

Photograph: Steamship “25 de Mayo” and its crew, 1861. Many of these sailors would die during the Paraguayan capture; others would endure painful captivity. The captured ship itself would serve under Paraguayan colors for several years of the war.