Beagle Crisis: The Planned Armoured Assault to Punta Arenas (v1.5)

Assault on the Chilean Government Buildings

Armoured Assault to Punta Arenas

By Esteban McLaren



On 22 December 1978, known as D-Day, various military actions would have been initiated in a coordinated manner along the borders with Chile within the framework of Operation Soberanía (Sovereignty). It is very difficult to determine with certainty which of all the planned actions would have actually started the war, but it is clear that it would have been a simultaneous assault on at least four fronts. The main focus would have been the naval battle and the landing in the Beagle Channel, where the Marine Infantry of the Argentine Navy (IMARA) would attempt to land part of its troops on the islands of Lennox, Nueva (already occupied by troops of the Chilean Marine Corps, CIM) and Picton, while other troops would seek to occupy the rest of the islands. This front will be the subject of future analysis. Synchronously, there would be a ground advance on the Southern front setting out from Río Gallegos (with a potential second line of advance from Rospentek Aike), with Punta Arenas as the final objective. The purpose of this article is to essay an alternative-history scenario. The war never happened, but how would it have unfolded if Argentina had not accepted papal mediation? That will be our point of divergence from real history. Let us appeal to rationality and foresight in an exercise that will always be incomplete and whose final outcome belongs to another space–time.

Start of the assault on Chilean positions on the border, with Mount Aymond in the background.

Context and development of the invasion

In the southern winter of 1978, tension between Argentina and Chile over the dispute regarding the Beagle Channel reached its peak. In the early hours of 21 December, Argentine troops stationed in Río Gallegos, Rospentek and other border locations received the order to begin the invasion of Chile. Since July, Chilean forces had been preparing for this confrontation, aware that diplomacy might not be enough to resolve the conflict.

The Argentine Forces

Argentina mobilised a formidable force, including the 1st Infantry Division, reinforced by elements of the XI Mechanised Infantry Brigade and the IX Infantry Brigade. The X Mechanised Infantry Brigade was deployed in Río Gallegos, ready to cross the border. All units would be reinforced as circumstances required.

In the air, A-4 Skyhawk, Mirage Dagger and Nesher fighter aircraft —as well as up to 14 F-86 Sabres (which had already violated Chilean airspace weeks earlier)— were ready to provide air support, while the Argentine Navy, with its destroyers and frigates, patrolled the nearby waters.

Argentine Forces:

• V Army Corps — General José Antonio Vaquero —. Assigned mission: Strategic offensive starting at 24:00 (H+2), departing from Santa Cruz, with the likely objective of conquering Puerto Natales and Punta Arenas. Thereafter, it would support Army Corps III in its advance through Puyehue towards Chile, cutting communications between the central zone and the south of Chilean territory.
• 1st Infantry Division (with elements of the XI Mechanised Infantry Brigade and the IX Infantry Brigade)
• X Mechanised Infantry Brigade (based in Río Gallegos)
• XI Mechanised Infantry Brigade
• Argentine National Gendarmerie: Border guard forces
• Air Force with A-4 Skyhawk, F-86-F Sabre and Mirage III fighter aircraft
• Naval Forces: IMARA together with the T-28 Fennec, with nearly 20 units stationed on the island of Tierra del Fuego.

Urban combat in the 18 de Septiembre neighbourhood, Punta Arenas

The Chilean Defence

In response, Chile positioned its III Army Division in Punta Arenas, reinforced by the 4th Armoured Brigade “Coraceros” and the 6th Army Division, with elements of the 5th Infantry Brigade. The general in charge of the defence of the Magallanes region, General Nilo Floody Buxton, always stated that at this stage the border guards (Carabineros) would be his troops of choice. The Chilean Air Force, equipped with 12 A-37 Dragonfly aircraft and 6 Hawker Hunters, was on maximum alert, and the Chilean Navy, with its ships and submarine, was ready to intercept any Argentine naval advance.

Chilean Forces:

• III Army Division (based in Punta Arenas)

• 4th Armoured Brigade “Coraceros”

• 6th Army Division (with elements of the 5th Infantry Brigade)

• Carabineros: Border guard who, on this front, had disproportionate importance due to their knowledge of the frontier. The general in charge of the defence of Punta Arenas always stressed their importance in the defence, but as any militarised police force they were not proper infantry, and their only “encounter” with Argentine forces had left them in a very poor position. See further below.

• Chilean Air Force with Hawker Hunter and A-37 combat aircraft (no confirmation of any of them)

• Naval Forces (CIM tasked with the islands of the channel)

The case of the Carabineros as soldiers

One issue that has rarely been discussed with the attention it deserves —and which seems to have obsessed only the author— is Chile’s decision to employ the Carabineros de Chile (CC) as an infantry force, or even as mechanised infantry, during the Beagle conflict. This decision is particularly striking if one considers the institutional nature of the Carabineros: by their own definition, they are a national police force with functions of internal security and border control, making them a hybrid institution but essentially police. Their role is equivalent, in the Argentine case, to a combination of three forces: the Federal Police, the provincial police forces, and the Argentine National Gendarmerie (GNA), the latter indeed being a militarised security force with responsibility in border areas. Within this framework, any reasonable comparison between the CC and armed or military forces should carry strong conceptual reservations.

During the escalation of the Beagle Channel conflict, responsibility for the defence of the Magallanes Region —whose capital is Punta Arenas— fell to General Ernesto Floody Buxton. A singular figure, of British descent, fair-skinned and with manners that his supporters considered charismatic, Floody stood out for public statements as controversial as they were unfortunate, both in content and in form. It is surprising that an officer of his rank repeatedly declared in Chilean media that, if necessary, he would face a potential armed conflict exclusively with “troops” of the Carabineros. This assertion, far from anecdotal, has been corroborated by multiple testimonies and documentary records.

The underlying problem lies in the military planning implicit in this decision. From positions such as Monte Aymond, on the border, the deployment of Argentine armoured means was evident, suggesting that, in the event of hostilities, Argentina would opt for a high-intensity mechanised offensive. In this context arises a legitimate and deeply troubling question: did General Floody really expect to contain an armoured advance with police personnel lacking training in conventional war doctrine, or in combat as light or mechanised infantry?

The most basic military logic questions this disposition. What previous experience did the Carabineros have in high-intensity engagements? What tactical logic supported this choice? It is not only difficult to imagine an Argentine military plan that, for example, placed the GNA in the first line of an assault on Punta Arenas, but even in a counter-offensive situation it would be highly improbable to delegate to a militarised police force the containment of enemy troops.

And yet, that seems to have been exactly the Chilean approach. The official justifications referred to the use of the Carabineros as rearguard elements —for tasks such as control of prisoners of war and surveillance of civilian areas— but the empirical evidence contradicts that explanation. Carabineros were transported on LAN Chile night flights to Magallanes, with the aim of not alerting Argentine intelligence, and were deployed directly on the front line. Although they had received only a few weeks of training at the infantry school, their additional preparation was no more than that. Contemporary photographs and accounts place them armed with anti-tank rocket launchers in Cabeza de Mar, and other records document their transfer from Chabunco to Porvenir, in the heart of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego —all positions within the immediate theatre of operations.

This deployment not only contradicts the official version but also exposes an alarming lack of strategic judgement. Far from being an extraordinary resource in the face of a logistical or tactical emergency, the use of the CC as a military vanguard reflects serious doctrinal disorganisation and, ultimately, an anachronistic view of modern warfare on the part of the Chilean high command. The defence of the country’s southernmost region was left in the hands of a force inadequate for the type of combat that was taking shape. If one also considers that the very same Carabineros had surrendered almost without resistance in the Lago del Desierto incident years earlier, the decision is not only questionable but openly irresponsible. It is true that in war one goes with what one has, but was there really no other ECh infantry available to employ in their place?

Invasion Routes

The Argentine forces planned their advance towards Punta Arenas using two main routes. The northern route, departing from Río Gallegos, crossed the border through Monte Aymond, following Route CH-255 southwards to Punta Arenas. This road, although relatively flat, presented natural challenges such as rivers and hills that could slow the advance.

The alternative route, departing from Rospentek, crossed the border following Route CH-40 and then headed south along Route CH-9 to Punta Arenas. This road was more difficult, with mountainous and wooded terrain that would complicate the advance of the armoured formations.

1. Main Northern Route:

• Starting point: Río Gallegos

• Main points: Advance through the Monte Aymond border crossing, following Route CH-255 southwards to Punta Arenas.

• Characteristics: Relatively flat terrain but with possible natural obstacles such as rivers and hills.

• Open ground in many sections for an armoured battle and for the deployment of forces in line, wedge, or V formation.

2. Alternative Western Route:

• Starting point: Rospentek

• Main points: Border crossing via Route CH-40, then proceed south along Route CH-9 to Punta Arenas.

• Initial objective: Would begin with the capture and securing of Puerto Natales, a concentration point for Chilean forces.

• Characteristics: Mountainous and wooded terrain, more difficult for the advance of large armoured formations. Suitable ground for ambushes.

• Engineering considerations: Bridges along the route would be destroyed (for example, Puente Rubens, Río Pendiente), necessitating engineer units.

• Suitability for armour: Poorly suited to broad armoured formations (only columns or diamond formations feasible).

These are the troops of the Chilean 5th Cavalry Regiment “Lanceros” [Lancers] deployed to defend Puerto Natales. They were going to face an Argentine armoured advance with horse-mounted cavalry, Polish style. No joke.

Chilean population in Argentine Patagonia

In his chronicle Cuando el río no era turbio (“When the river was not murky”), Ramón Arriagada recounts the close relationship between Chilean workers, mainly chilotes, and the Río Turbio coalfield in Argentina during the 1950s to 1970s. According to the 1970 census, Puerto Natales had 13,675 inhabitants, of whom 2,800 worked in the mine. By 1976, around 600 Chilean miners were commuting in shifts, using Natales as a dormitory town due to the lack of housing in Río Turbio.

Arriagada cites the writer Nicasio Tangol, who emphasised that the chilotes were fundamental in shaping Patagonia. In 1961, the newspaper El Austral reported that the mine produced 500 tonnes per day and employed 1,200 miners, mostly Chilean–chilotes. In addition, about 1,800 workers were employed on the surface, 80% of them Chileans as well. Another 600 Chileans worked on the construction of the 270-kilometre railway between Río Turbio and Río Gallegos, and by 1951 there were already 1,200 miners working in the coalfield.

The author highlights how migration from Chiloé to Patagonia increased, especially after the 1960 earthquake and tsunami, and how the 1978 border conflict between Chile and Argentina marked a change, when Chilean miners were replaced by workers from northern Argentina, Bolivia and Paraguay.

In his chronicle Sueños de Carbón (“Dreams of Coal”), Arriagada addresses the 2004 mining accident, which left 14 dead, and how retired miners from Natales who had worked in Río Turbio survive on miserable pensions and must cross the border to receive medical care, since they have no access to social security in Chile, making them outcasts in their own country. (El Tirapiedras)

From these population movements, entirely under the sovereign authority of the Argentine Republic, Chilean General Floody would complain, associating them with an act of war. No joke.

Following with the story, both routes converge at Laguna Cabeza de Mar where, if two coordinated invasion forces were to set out, they could regroup and continue on to Punta Arenas. The road to Punta Arenas via CH-9 is a coastal route highly vulnerable to air attacks and ambushes or hit-and-run strikes. The route leads the force to the core of Chilean regional military power: the Chabunco air base and, opposite it, the headquarters of the III Army Division.

Chilean defensive lines

Chile would have adopted a defence-in-depth strategy, as declared by the general in charge of the Army Division (Southern Theatre of Operations). The first line of defence could already have been sited at Monte Aymond and its surroundings, right on the frontier. That line was, from the few photographs gathered, a jumble of foxholes and trenches, with poorly equipped soldiers — undoubtedly cannon fodder to wear down the advance.

When a penetration of this kind occurs, the theory of war leads us to think of three phases for the force facing it:

1. Containment: Hold the penetration in place — that is, stop it or slow it so it cannot continue to advance.
2. Flanking: Begin moving forces to the flanks of the penetration, basically to the sectors close to where the breach began. This is done to operate on those flanks simultaneously and “strangle” the penetration by cutting the enemy’s communications with its rear.
3. Annihilation: The detailed destruction of the encircled troops (death or capture).

Here, Chilean troops would have built forward positions to slow the enemy’s advance. Anti-tank guns and conventional field artillery — not in great quantity or variety — are visible in photographs and documentaries. Probably the best trans-Andean weaponry in this phase was the deployment of anti-tank mines. A second line of defence would be at San Gregorio, with fortifications, minefields and trenches ready to resist an assault. From there to the regional capital, various points could be fortified. The final defence is concentrated around Punta Arenas, where troops, long-range artillery and the best anti-tank defences are assembled.

See below the “Maginot line” that Chilean strategists had developed: simple trenches and foxholes. The soldier in the front line is using an old bolt-action Mauser 1909 rifle from the First World War.

Photo of a “foxhole” with a Chilean infantryman armed with a bolt-action Mauser rifle near Monte Aymond

The Chilean defence-in-depth would probably have included:

• First line of defence: Forward positions at Monte Aymond and surrounding areas.
• Second line of defence: Fortifications and trenches around San Gregorio along Route CH-40, and ambushes from wooded areas between Laguna Arauco and Primavera. Trenches at Laguna Cabeza de Mar (Arancia Clavel and Bulnes Serrano, 2017:164). All bridges were fitted with explosive charges, cavalry units armed with anti-tank rockets were sent forward, and night firing zones were prepared and properly “staked out” and painted to avoid confusion (AC&BS, 2017:141).
• Final defence: Fortifications and troops concentrated near Punta Arenas, including long-range artillery and anti-tank defences (few and outdated in the ECh inventory of that period). Many civilians actively collaborated in the mobilisation. Much of the vehicles and heavy machinery used in the construction of trenches, shelters, watch posts and anti-tank ditches was provided by local businessmen. In turn, ranch owners made available sheds to house troops and store equipment and supplies (AC&BS, 2017:114).

It should be noted that this scenario contained several factors that emerged over time. For example, Chilean forces lacked anti-tank mines and ammunition was scarce. The soldiers in the first line of defence were placed as cannon fodder, with only 80 cartridges per weapon and no resupply. Many — perhaps too many — indicators showed that Chile was very, very poorly prepared for war.

The stalemate of the advance

The Argentine advance faced its first major test at San Gregorio, where Chilean defences would be well prepared and the terrain favoured the defenders. Here, the advance would slow considerably, turning into a battle of attrition. The apparently most fortified area was the road in the lagoon zone of Cabeza de Mar.

From Rospentek, the troops would have to overcome harassment attacks and construct bridges over river crossings where the bridges had been destroyed. Once joined with the forces coming from Río Gallegos, they would need to regroup and assess the damage and the reorganisation of the advance.

There is a key issue to bear in mind throughout this entire campaign: Argentine air superiority. The only Chilean air base in the Area of Operations was Chabunco, in Punta Arenas. That air base was to be attacked by the Argentine Air Force in the early hours of the advance, and finished off later that same afternoon by the Naval Aviation Command. Any resistance put up by Chilean ground forces would then have to endure continued aerial harassment.

How many examples are there of ground defences being immune to simultaneous air and land attacks? Imagine a pocket of Chilean resistance — perhaps an artillery battery hidden in a ravine, or machine-gun nests strategically positioned along the route of advance. The Argentine military commander would simply need to pass the coordinates to Río Gallegos, to the dispersal airstrip at Estancia La Sara, or to the naval air base at Río Grande, so that aircraft from both air branches could deliver machine-gun fire, bombs or rockets to dismantle the defence.

These same options were not available to the Chilean commander.

Armored Regiment No. 5 "Punta Arenas", deployed in 1978 in the Magallanes region. The Scorpion Detachment advances, in M-41 tanks and M-113 armoured personnel carriers.

Countering the Chilean defence

To overcome this obstacle, Argentina could deploy the XI Mechanised Infantry Brigade to penetrate and disrupt the initial defences. Argentine artillery would bombard the Chilean positions, while airborne units and the air force would carry out flanking manoeuvres and provide crucial air support.

 

• The XI Mechanised Infantry Brigade must penetrate and disorganise the initial defences.
• Artillery forces to bombard defensive positions.
• Airborne units and Air Force for flanking and air support.
• The Chabunco air base would have to be put out of action for the advance to succeed.

Trans-Andean soldiers firing the service SIG rifle

Airborne assault on Punta Arenas

In the context of this conflict, Argentine forces planned a bold airborne assault on Punta Arenas. Accounts from veterans of this crisis, particularly from the 14th Parachute Infantry Regiment based in Córdoba, indicate that an airborne assault was being planned to capture the city of Punta Arenas. For this purpose, BAM Río Gallegos was already hosting DC-3 and C-130 transport aircraft ready for the operation.

The main objectives of this assault included seizing Presidente Carlos Ibáñez del Campo Airport, thereby securing a vital bridgehead for the continuous flow of troops and supplies. It would also focus on destroying Chilean command and control facilities to disrupt their defences, and on capturing the port and key logistical installations, thus cutting off enemy supplies and reinforcements.

This could be achieved following a surprise Air Base Attack (ABA) carried out by the Argentine Air Force using A-4 Skyhawks and BAC Canberras at H+2 of the invasion.

Main objectives:

• Capture Presidente Carlos Ibáñez del Campo Airport to secure a bridgehead and allow the continuous flow of troops and supplies.
• Destroy command-and-control facilities to disorganise Chilean forces.
• Seize the port and principal logistical installations to cut supplies and reinforcements.

Entry into Punta Arenas

Argentine armour and mechanised infantry would move rapidly along Route 9, advancing with lethal precision. Armoured vehicles would adopt line formations to maximise frontal firepower, while infantry units would follow closely, ready to disembark and secure the streets. A secondary column would advance along road Y-505, flanking the Chilean defences and dividing their attention.

Objectives in the city

The Port of Punta Arenas was one of the principal objectives. By the time of the ground assault the actual condition of the airport would need to be assessed, since it would probably already have been put out of action by an initial air attack by the Argentine Air Force (case analysed in this link). Controlling the port would allow Argentine forces to secure a vital supply line and receive maritime reinforcements. Specialised commandos and mechanised infantry units would be deployed to seize the docks and port facilities, facing fierce Chilean resistance.

The Presidente Carlos Ibáñez del Campo Airport and its annex, the Chabunco air base, would also be crucial. Controlling the airport would guarantee an airhead, allowing the continuous transport of troops and supplies. Argentine airborne and rapid-assault units, already familiar with the terrain from their operations at Chabunco, would be launched in a swift offensive to secure the runways and neutralise any resistance. There would be a high probability of runways and facilities being blown up to deny their use to the attackers. It was entirely to be expected that, before falling into the hands of Argentine troops, the locals would demolish all installations crucial to their operation.

Government and communications buildings will be equally strategic. Battle-hardened Argentine forces will infiltrate the city center to capture the Magallanes Intendancy and the police headquarters, seeking to disrupt Chilean defenses and establish administrative control. These will undoubtedly be the most savage scenes imaginable throughout the campaign, due to the very nature of urban combat.

The capture of Punta Arenas

Urban resistance

As Argentine troops pushed into Punta Arenas, they would encounter tenacious resistance at several key points. The Civic Centre area, with its government and commercial buildings, would undoubtedly become a battlefield. Chilean troops, entrenched inside buildings, would mount an organised defence, slowing the Argentine advance.

In the 18 de Septiembre neighbourhood, a dense residential area of mostly wooden houses, Chilean forces would adopt urban guerrilla tactics. Ambushes, snipers and improvised barricades turned every street and every house into a point of resistance. Fighting intensified, with Argentine troops battling house by house to clear the area. It would also prove an area very easy to destroy with fire, given the predominance of wood in its construction.

The industrial zone north of the city could also be a focus of resistance. Chilean defenses, using industrial equipment and heavy vehicles as barricades, would turn factories and warehouses into makeshift fortifications. Argentine troops should consider deploying specialized assault units to overcome these defenses.


Trans-Andean soldiers armed with SIG rifles parading

Argentine Strategies

To counter Chilean resistance, Argentine forces deployed a combination of tactics and resources. The use of artillery and air support would be crucial to weaken defenses before the ground assault. Precise bombing raids disrupted Chilean lines, facilitating the advance of ground units.


Paratroopers from the Leopardo Company of the 2nd "General Balcarce" Airborne Infantry Regiment, Argentine Army, Ushuaia, November 1978

Commando operations (the newly created Halcón 8 special team) and paratroopers would play a pivotal role. Elite units infiltrated the city to neutralize strategic points, capturing key objectives quickly and with the fewest casualties possible. These commandos would carry out surgical strikes against Chilean defenses, facilitating the advance of the main forces.

Urban warfare would become the main focus. Mechanized patrols, assault teams, and specialized urban combat units would systematically advance, facing fierce resistance but managing to secure key areas. Coordination and communication would be essential to maintain the momentum of the advance.

Population Control and Stabilization

Finally, to maintain control of the city and prevent acts of sabotage, Argentine forces would establish checkpoints and conduct regular patrols. The constant presence of troops would help stabilize the situation and ensure that the city remained under Argentine control after the capture of the main objectives. Acts of guerrilla warfare and resistance would be expected throughout the period.

The Fall

The capture of Punta Arenas would be a complex and bloody operation, testing the capabilities and determination of the Argentine forces. Their numerical and material superiority would give them a significant advantage, but the Chilean resistance, taking advantage of their knowledge of the terrain and well-prepared defenses, would turn each advance into a fierce struggle. The city would eventually fall, but at a significant human cost to both sides.

 

Probability analysis of success

Argentina’s numerical and material superiority is evident: a ratio of 5:1 in armour, 4:1 in aircraft and 3:1 in infantry. These advantages, together with strategic planning and tactical execution, suggest a high probability of success for Argentina in the capture of Punta Arenas. However, Chile’s preparation and defensive strategy, making use of knowledge of the terrain and defence in depth, also held possibilities of success.

Probability of success for Argentina: 70%
Probability of success for Chile: 40%

Argentina:

• Probability of success: High, due to numerical and material superiority (armour, aircraft and infantry), although it would face significant difficulties in terrain and well-prepared defences.

• Estimated success: 70%

Chile:

• Probability of success: Moderate, considering defence in depth and knowledge of the terrain, although outnumbered and out-equipped.

• Estimated success: 40%

Tanks entering 18 de Septiembre slum

Estimated casualties

Casualties in this conflict would be significant for both sides, reflecting the intensity of the fighting and the well-prepared defences.

• Estimated Argentine casualties: minimum of 15,000–20,000 (including dead, wounded and prisoners)

• Estimated Chilean casualties: minimum of 15,000–40,000 (including dead, wounded, prisoners and civilians depending on their degree of involvement)

These estimates underline the human cost of a conflict which, although hypothetical, reflects the gravity of a military escalation between two neighbouring nations.

Summary

An armoured campaign by the Argentine Army against Chilean forces in the Magallanes region would have been a bloody affair under any consideration. The possibility of success existed, but it was by no means guaranteed. With time and when comparing opposing analyses from each side, it becomes clear that, from the Chilean perspective, many potential Argentine attacks would have been completely surprising and even innovative, despite being drawn straight from doctrinal manuals since the Second World War. The Chilean defensive scheme was classical — one could even say out of yellowed pages of defensive tactics books. A layered tactical and static defence, but with a severe shortage of resources, making them like bricks without mortar. And here I refer to the very comments of the mining explosives producer turned arms magnate in exile, Mr Cardoen. In an interview for a state television programme across the Andes, he himself remarked that the armed forces had requested his services to produce anti-tank mines since the Chilean Army had none at all in its inventory. In other words, the defence of Magallanes was not going to be flooded with AT mines — far from it — perhaps one of the key elements to slow an armoured advance. Not my words, I repeat. Without that, Mr Floody’s defence looks like a giant scarecrow.

On the other hand, it is essential to point out the alarming overestimation that the organiser of the defence, the aforementioned Mr Floody Buxton, gave to the Carabineros. This is, indisputably, a civilian border police force, and under no circumstances should it be considered a combat force. It is possible that this man intended to make use of their vast knowledge as baqueanos of the region or through intelligence with infiltrated farmhands, but did this officer of British descent really think he could successfully face an armoured or airborne assault with Carabineros? Did Floody truly believe he could entrust his life and the defence of Punta Arenas to a militarised police force without any wartime record? Worse still, their only “combat record” had been invading Argentine territory at Lago del Desierto. There, a Carabineros patrol stationed itself for several days with SIG rifles, entrenched in a shed turned checkpoint, defending the position. No need to invoke La Concepción or Prat: at the first burst from the gendarmes, which killed one Chilean soldier, all the Carabineros surrendered. All of them. Was that the force upon which this “majestic” general pinned his hopes? By any analysis, both in terms of function and of record, Floody was completely mistaken.

Finally, and the final blow, Chile lacked air superiority. What would the Chilean infantry or cavalry, even entrenched in a well-planned defensive position, have done when 450- or 500-kilogram bombs fell on their position with impunity? Historical evidence shows that troops in defensive positions have managed to survive air or artillery attacks (Monte Cassino, Stalingrad, among others). However, it is obvious that this is not the side of the battlefield the troops wished to be on, and there is also further evidence that defensive positions have been dismantled by overwhelming air attacks that disarmed and demoralized the resistance.

All analyses lead to an inexorable Chilean defeat in which, at best, a stalemate might have been achieved within current Chilean territory. The damage to local infrastructure would have been in the billions, and human casualties in the tens of thousands. A scenario, in every respect, lamentable. This fear instilled in the Chilean armed forces, together with the Malvinas event in 1982, would shape that country’s entire defence policy up to the present day.

Citations

Patricia Arancibia Clavel, Francisco Bulnes Serrano. 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

Malvinas: Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano, A Hero

A Little-Known Hero: Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano

As recounted by then Second Lieutenant Jiménez Corbalán

On the night of 8 June, while an attack was being launched against the 3rd Section, B Company, RI 4 under my command, the enemy struck the sector of my support group led by Sergeant Solís, killing Private Martiniano Gómez and wounding both the sergeant and Private Funes, in fierce fighting in which they had to employ rockets to dislodge my men. However, we managed to stop them and the British were unable to capture the entire sector. After a while, the battle had ground to a stalemate.

We had been engaged in heavy combat for nearly twenty minutes when a group of men from a section that had been attached to our company as reinforcements (they belonged to the Command and Services Company of the III Brigade, this section being composed of service personnel) arrived at my positions.

They were led by a sergeant whom I did not know. With a piercing gaze, this sergeant said to me: “Sir, I bring you a night sight sent by the company commander, and I place myself at your orders.” Much later, I learnt that this man was Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano. He had arrived with ten men, ready to go into action.

I gathered these men and explained that I would join them in carrying out a counter-attack to assist and clear the sector of my support group, which was under heavy pressure. Using the sight, I would mark targets with tracer fire so that we could then concentrate our fire together.

Our mission was extremely dangerous, as it consisted of advancing against the enemy while the remainder of my section supported us with covering fire. As I was finishing my explanation, British artillery fire began to fall, a clear sign that they wished to support their advance and secure the position they were attacking. Flattened to the ground, we kept firing upon them. Suddenly, we saw them beginning to reorganise, and I thought to myself: “It is now or never (before they regroup and launch their attack).”

At my signal, half of the group leapt forward with this sergeant at the front, while the other half provided covering fire. We then leapt ahead, passing the first group, and in this way we alternated, advancing in ten-metre bounds amidst tracer fire and the smell of gunpowder. This took the British by surprise, and our satisfaction was great when we saw them fall back.

After a short while, I checked with the night sight in a full 360°, and there were no enemies. Sergeant Montellano confirmed that his men were all safe and promptly reported to me. We exchanged glances, and I could see in his expression a hint of satisfaction. He then took his leave and returned to his sector.

This brave sergeant would lose his life on the night of 9 June, when an artillery shell struck his foxhole directly.

Malvinas: Lions in Darwin

The Lions of the "Aliaga" Section

A pause in the attack

After opening fire on the advancing British section, the British troops paused their manoeuvre in an attempt to reorganise their failed advance through the depression. Clearly, the rounded hill held by Second Lieutenant Aliaga's section dominated the small valley, and remaining within range of weapons from that position was extremely dangerous.

However, not everything was in favour of the small Argentine force: several of its shooters had been poorly positioned for the land attack, as their foxholes had been designed to face a beach landing and did not allow them to fire at the British without exposing themselves. As a result, some had to lie prone on the slope to return fire, which was a highly risky move.

From the command post—a dugout located near the top of the rise—Aliaga assessed the situation and assumed they might be able to hold out until nightfall, provided the engagement continued as it had. Then they could withdraw under cover of darkness. Alternatively, if the situation worsened, they might attempt to retreat to the nearby settlement at any point during the day. Yet even in daylight, such a manoeuvre would be far from simple: it would take place under enemy fire and, if successful, might still result in being mistakenly fired upon by their own troops, as there was no communication system to warn of the movement.

At that moment, two or three Pucará aircraft flew northwards but did not release their weapons against the British forces engaging the Argentine position. The British, however, took full advantage of the opportunity and greeted the flyover with a barrage of automatic weapons fire.

A tense calm settled over the trenches. During that lull, Sergeant Maldonado crawled over to the machine-gun crew and urged them to keep doing exactly what they were doing—telling them: “Keep it up, you're tearing the gringos to pieces.” Without a doubt, the success of the defence would rest heavily on the firepower of the lone MAG machine gun.

Also in that trench was Private Ramón Monje, who, having used up the last of the 88.9mm rocket launcher ammunition on the hedge line, moved over to the other conscripts for support. However, he had no rifle and was unable to fight.

Two foxholes to the right of the MAG, another pair of soldiers waited for the battle to resume. Hugo Castro watched the small valley below, barely blinking, expecting to see the enemy infantry appear at any moment. But it was not from the front; instead, off to the right, they spotted a small unit—no more than 15 men—moving in single file about 800 metres away, descending southwards along the gentle slopes that, in the opposite direction, overlook Darwin Bay.

Unable to establish proper contact or determine whether the group were friend or foe—since their shouts of “¡Viva la Patria!” received no reply—the soldiers of Regiment 8 decided not to open fire. Shortly afterwards, the group disappeared into the next hollow in their path. (This was First Corporal Quintana's group from the Reconnaissance Section of Regiment 12, who, after fighting on Darwin Ridge, had managed to retreat to Goose Green.)

Under Fire Once More

Suddenly, the British resumed their assault on the hill, and from that point onward, the gunfire would continue almost uninterrupted until the battle’s end.

Second Lieutenant Aliaga, firing single shots with his rifle due to it not cycling correctly, was growing concerned—his right flank was the most exposed, and he feared the British might attempt to encircle them from that side.

At that moment, Private Guillermo Marini reached the dugout with urgent news:
– “Sir, Corporal Bossetti’s been hit!”

Corporal Bossetti, who had remained in his tent due to poor health, had been wounded in the arm. A bullet had entered near the top of one shoulder and exited through the forearm. The section now had its first casualty. (Corporal Bossetti had even coughed up blood and was in a severely weakened state due to malnutrition, yet he had refused to abandon his unit.)

Aliaga then instructed Marini to crawl over to one of the alternate positions on the right side, which had been designated for contingency use when the section was first deployed there. Armed with his FAL rifle, the conscript was to act as a lookout and raise the alarm if he saw any British troops advancing from that direction.

However, Marini had barely covered a few metres before he was struck twice in one leg and once in the abdomen, collapsing and unable to move.
– “Sir, Marini’s hit!” someone shouted, which Aliaga heard.

Without hesitation—and knowing that the young man was completely exposed—Aliaga crawled out to him and tried to cover the abdominal wound, which was bleeding heavily. Looking to his side, he saw two other soldiers, Naif Anis Hassanie and Luis Cepeda, had followed him. (These conscripts were risking their lives for their officer, who was barely older than themselves.)

The four of them were surrounded by dozens of impacts kicking up dirt all around. With immense effort, Aliaga managed to drag Marini back until they fell into the relative safety of the command post trench.

Malvinas: White Alert in the 4th Infantry Regiment

WHITE ALERT!

Excerpt from the book “We Shall Return” by Captain Farinella of the 4th Infantry Regiment

Second Lieutenant Mario Héctor Juárez of the 4th Regiment recalls:

Our 120mm mortar position was, quite logically, set farther back than the front-line units. This meant we were somewhat isolated — even with our TA-321 PT field phones. In a strange way, that semi-isolation gave our days a certain rhythm; a kind of quiet routine that felt almost like being among family. Or more precisely, camaraderie.

As the leader of that small “family,” I made sure everything that mattered to us ran smoothly. One method we devised to keep the unit sharp and responsive was using colour-coded alerts to signal different enemy actions.

“Red Alert” meant air attack.
“Black Alert” meant enemy landing.
We’d even add directions — “Red Alert from the North!” — so everyone knew where to expect the enemy and prepare their weapons accordingly.

Our mortar position, shielded by a ring of rocks, was a rare luxury in that harsh environment. It gave us shelter from the biting winds, freezing rain, and constant cold — conditions that made even basic cooking an ordeal.

In my role as head of this makeshift family, whenever a food-related emergency arose, I’d initiate a special protocol I’d created myself: “White Alert.” This wasn’t a colour used for actual combat purposes — it was strictly internal code.

One morning, someone suddenly shouted, “White Alert from the South!”
Instantly, the men sprang into action, grabbing helmets, rushing to positions, bracing for an attack. The shout had been loud enough to set off a chain reaction — even those who hadn’t heard it directly copied the urgent behaviour around them. In a matter of seconds, nearly the entire position was on high alert.

After five or ten minutes of tense waiting, confusion began to spread. People started asking what exactly was going on — what was this White Alert? No one seemed to know.

I had to step in and explain: it was just three or four sheep that had wandered nearby. The “alert” had been intended solely for the rescue party, so they could rush out and catch them.

Dinner was served that night.

Malvinas: The Braves of the 25th IR (1/2)

"Gato" Section, the Braves of the 25th Infantry Regiment

Part 1 || Part 2

Account by Corporal Diego Enrique Pesaresi, Member of RI 25, Company "C", Section "Gato"

We arrived on the islands on April 2nd. Initially, we were stationed in Puerto Argentino, and later we were transferred to Darwin. On a day whose date I do not recall, our section departed towards San Carlos to carry out a mission. Upon arrival, we encountered the section commanded by Second Lieutenant Vázquez, which remained to reinforce the strait. Sergeant Reyes ordered me to ascend to Height 234 with three other soldiers, carrying a tent and a radio set. Our mission was to monitor the strait and report any enemy presence via radio. We had no radar—only a pair of binoculars, FAL rifles, a MAG machine gun, a FAP, and a mortar.

Once in position, we began surveillance. One night, around 1:00 a.m., under heavy fog, we started to hear unidentified noises. Suddenly, naval shelling began in support of the British landing. We quickly took our rifles and moved to rendezvous with Sergeant Reyes. Fierce fighting ensued, and we inflicted significant casualties on the enemy. We endured heavy enemy fire for hours. At dawn, our ordeal truly began.

Lieutenant Esteban’s section was located in San Carlos, and we were supposed to regroup with them. However, this proved impossible, and we were forced to begin a retreat. We marched at night and rested during the day. At one point, British troops passed extremely close—just a few meters away. Fortunately, they did not see us. The combat was intense; tracer bullets fell like rain. Yet, Second Lieutenant Reyes skillfully protected us and led us out of that hellish barrage. By then, Sergeant Martín Colque was no longer with us—he had remained by his mortar, enduring hunger and cold.

The eleven of us who remained began walking toward Puerto Argentino. At one point, we sensed we were being pursued. To evade capture, Reyes ordered us to cross a river branch and hide behind a mountain. From there, we could observe the enemy searching for us, barely a hundred meters away. For reasons unknown, British troops in a helicopter mistakenly opened fire on their own men, likely believing we were the target.

The freezing river water caused several cases of frostbite: Corporal Hugo Godoy and Soldiers Moyano and Cepeda suffered in their feet, while Soldier Alarcón was affected in his hands. We carried the wounded on our backs, as they were unable to walk.

Exhausted and weakened, Second Lieutenant Reyes ordered a halt. We took shelter in a kind of cave, which we named la cobacha. The injured were delirious, speaking incoherently, clearly beyond their physical limits. After days without food, the first thing we ate was a wild goose, which Reyes shot with his pistol. In the distance, we spotted a house. Reyes instructed us to investigate it. Upon arrival, we found it abandoned; the only food we discovered was sugar.

We visited the house several times. On one occasion, as we were leaving, a British helicopter attempted to land in front of it. We were spotted, but managed to hide in a small shed filled with scrap metal. Without Reyes present, we did not know what to do. In hindsight, we realize we could have opened fire and neutralized the invaders. They saw us clearly. In desperation, we ran back to the cobacha and reported the incident to Reyes, who immediately ordered the evacuation of the area.

We were forced to leave the wounded behind in the cobacha, leaving them with what little food we had—a raw lamb. By then, we had learned to hunt and eat raw meat, as lighting a fire was not an option.

Malvinas: The Murrell Bridge Counter-Ambuscade and the Communications

 

Communications and a Pivotal Engagement on the Darkest Day of the Fleet

(From my interview with Captain (Ret.) VGM Eduardo Cerruti, Section Leader in Communications Company 3):

In the Malvinas, the most secure means of communication were wired systems. However, the signals personnel had to work tirelessly to repair lines that were frequently cut—either by shrapnel from bombardments, by sheep chewing through the cables, or, at times, by soldiers who used the wire to secure items while constructing their positions.

 

Inevitably, due to the use of HF communications on the islands, basic encryption and decryption systems had to be employed—elementary, to use the word loosely—since the type of cipher used had been originally developed by the British and American armies and was widely known across the world’s militaries. It was based on a five-digit code, and the British, though able to intercept Argentine communications, were not immune from making serious errors themselves.

To illustrate this, Captain (Ret.) Eduardo Cerruti refers to a specific engagement between a detachment of the British 3rd Parachute Battalion and a group of Argentine special forces from the 601 Commando Company. This occurred at the Murrell River bridge, during the night of 6 June and the early hours of 7 June 1982. In their retreat, the British abandoned not only their tents and various field supplies, but also their radio equipment. Most crucially, their radio operator left behind a communications pack containing documents listing frequencies, call signs, and network identifiers (e.g., alarm network, fire support network, logistics network, etc.).

For the Argentine communications personnel—who were trained under the doctrine that a message must be swallowed, destroyed, or burned before falling into enemy hands—this captured material was known as the Instructions for the Use and Operation of Communications (IEFC).

With the British documents now in Argentine hands, each time they tuned into a frequency, they heard voices speaking in English. They tried various channels repeatedly, and each time an English voice came through. Still, there was hesitation: given the professionalism of the British forces, they suspected that their enemies were already aware that the IEFC had been lost and that this could be a case of what is known in electronic warfare as simulative deception.

They continued monitoring the British using a Thompson field radio, which was not designed for electronic warfare. To aid in translation, they requested assistance from Communications Company 10 and were sent two soldiers who spoke English.

Meanwhile, Major Rábago reported the situation to General Menéndez, who authorised the purchase of a radio cassette recorder and several TDK tapes (60- and 90-minute lengths) from Port Stanley. Sergeant Edgardo Dalurzo, a field radio technician, successfully adapted the Thompson radio to the cassette recorder, enabling the team to record British transmissions.

On the morning of 7 June, one of the English-speaking soldiers informed Second Lieutenant Cerruti and other communications officers that the enemy was planning a landing at Bluff Cove (Bahía Agradable) the following day. This information was later confirmed by the second translator, who had received the tape and, after listening to it, corroborated the landing plan—and even added the names Bluff Cove/Fitz Roy.

It is worth emphasising that, using only a standard-issue Thompson field radio, which lacked any specialised electronic warfare capability, and thanks to the intel seized during the Murrell River bridge engagement, Communications Company 3 managed to conduct improvised electronic warfare. The report compiled by its personnel directly supported the Argentine Air Force in planning the successful strike carried out on 8 June 1982, during the British landing at Bluff Cove.

An extraordinary achievement.

Malvinas: Robacio Masterfully Commands the Artillery of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group

Account of Second Lieutenant Juan Gabino Suárez, Chief of the “last gun” of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group (GAAerot 4)

  

I share this account once again because Rear Admiral Carlos Hugo Robacio deserves to be remembered as he truly was — by living and reliving a part of his life.

I will never tire of saying it. Never.

Our place in the war: Sapper Hill (Puerto Argentino, Malvinas Islands, Republic of Argentina) — with a forward detachment in San Carlos alongside Battery "A".

A field artilleryman loves to see where his rounds land. He thrives on observing, calculating, correcting. But when you’re the Chief of the Gun Section, that privilege is gone. From the rear —where all you hear are the fire commands and the thunder of the guns— you must imagine the battlefield, reconstruct in your mind what’s unfolding ahead, guided only by instinct, by training... and by doctrine.

That’s when fire adjustment comes alive —the craft of bracketing a target with precision. It's a method as old as it is effective: the first shot, far from being decisive, is merely a starting point. In artillery, a direct hit on the first round proves nothing. Only through disciplined bracketing—first in azimuth, then in range—can effective fire be achieved.

But in the urgency of combat, the temptation to cut corners is always there. One tends to stray from the textbook, from regulation, from what was drilled into you in the classroom. You want to solve everything at once. And that’s where those who forget the fundamentals make their first mistake. Because when the situation is real, and the enemy is advancing, all you have left is what you learned —and held onto.

And then, he appeared: Captain Carlos Hugo Robacio, Commander of Marine Battalion 5. The moment his fire requests began coming in, I knew instantly he was applying doctrine with surgical precision. His Initial Fire Request (IFR) was flawless: the target was clearly described —width, depth, distance, bearing from magnetic north. Everyone in the fire chain knew exactly what had to be done. Tactical clarity radiated through the net. And that kind of clarity inspires. From gun crews to the Fire Direction Center (FDC) and the Fire Support Coordinator (FSC), everyone locked in.

  
CN Carlos Robacio in Malvinas
 

I could read his thinking through the rounds.
The first shot landed off to one side.
The second, at the opposite end.
What was he doing?
He was bracketing the target, establishing the axis of correction. Pure doctrine. Pure art.
The third corrected direction.
The fourth refined range.
The fifth: ten rounds, fire for effect.

Not a moment of hesitation. Robacio didn’t ask —he ordered. And every order was exact.

Then came confirmation from the Forward Observer: successful impact. But who exactly were we firing on? These weren’t theoretical targets. We were firing on British troops who had already closed within 150 meters of our lines —some even closer. Robacio had cut the enemy advance in two, separating the forward elements from the main assault force still pushing up from the rear. He bought time —and lives.

And then, the critical moment.

The new coordinates overlapped the exact position of Marine Battalion 5. The FDC hesitated. “We can’t fire there —our own men are on that grid!” But Robacio didn’t flinch:

“They’re among us! Get in your foxholes and open fire. Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The order came out furious, direct, visceral. And it was necessary.

Even with our guns buried, we kept fighting back.

I don’t remember how many volleys we fired on that line —but it was a lot. Hundreds of rounds. Robacio kept pushing them back, forcing the enemy to scatter. And when he sensed it was time, he ordered a fire barrier. Precision calculations. All guns firing on a perfect line. A wall of steel. And he drove them even farther. Until the guns fell silent.

To me, it was a masterclass in fire control. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Robacio owned the battlefield like a conductor with an orchestra —with precision, instinct, and total battlefield awareness. He was a professional. A tactician. A clear-headed combat leader.

But what were the British really trying to do by attacking BIM5? Was it a diversion? A beachhead for a future assault on Port Stanley? A test of our responsiveness?
Even today, this engagement is barely remembered, hardly studied, nearly absent from the official accounts. And yet, it was one of the most technically sound and fiercely fought defenses of the entire war.

I hope this testimony serves to highlight the professional excellence of Captain Robacio, his tactical brilliance, and his nerve under fire. We never had the chance to work together before the war —but in those days, I could read his mind through every shot fired.

And in artillery, that’s worth more than a thousand words.

One of our artillery guns —in those first days, our assigned combat position— might well be the emblematic one. Maybe because of where it stood. The fence posts were still upright, and the comrades of BIM 5 were up ahead, still building their own defenses.

Forgive me for bringing back these memories —memories of those howitzers that once held back the British advance, firing until there was nothing left to shoot.

(Sapper Hil, Puerto Argentino, Republic of Argentina)