“General Lamadrid is one of those natural-born figures of the Argentine land. At the age of 14, he began waging war against the Spaniards, and the feats of his romantic bravery go beyond the limits of possibility: he has been in a hundred and forty encounters, in all of which Lamadrid’s sword emerged nicked and dripping with blood; the smoke of gunpowder and the neighing of horses drive him into ecstasy, and as long as he can slash everything before him—cavalry, cannons, infantry—it matters little to him whether the battle is won or lost.
I said he is a natural type of this country, not for his fabulous courage alone, but because he is both a cavalry officer and a poet. He is a kind of Tyrtaeus, inspiring soldiers with war songs—the same bard I mentioned in the first part; he is the gaucho spirit, civilized and devoted to freedom. Sadly, he is not a 'square' general, as Napoleon required; bravery outweighs his other qualities by a hundred to one.”
They say he was an inveterate candy eater. He was terrified of water and did everything possible to avoid boarding boats and ships. He would sing vidalitas to his soldiers before battles.
When San Martín took command of the Army of the North in early 1814, replacing Manuel Belgrano—recently defeated at Vilcapugio and Ayohuma—the Dragoon Captain from Tucumán, Gregorio Aráoz de Lamadrid, served as aide-de-camp to the future Condor of the Andes.
He was present in Tucumán and Salta. Also at Vilcapugio and Ayohuma. And when he became entangled in the fratricidal civil wars between Unitarians and Federalists, fate took him to a place called El Tala. There, fortune turned against him. It was 1827. And he was nearly killed in that battle.
He received eleven saber blows to the head; his nose was broken and the tip dangled over his upper lip. His right ear, nearly sliced in two, hung by a thread of skin. Another slash severed the biceps of his left arm, and a bayonet struck deep into his shoulder blade.
When he fell to the ground, still gripping his saber, they clubbed him with rifle butts, trampled him with their horses, and broke his ribs. As they stripped him of his weapons and clothing, Lamadrid summoned his last strength and shouted, as best he could, that he would not surrender. His body bathed in blood, they finished him off with a shot to the back. They left, believing he was dead.
But he survived—against all odds. And earned the nickname: “The Immortal.”
General Gregorio Aráoz de Lamadrid was born on November 28, 1795, in Tucumán.
A daguerreotype of the General reveals the true face of the warrior. And a photograph of the bullet that was removed from his back—the one that shattered his shoulder blade—is on display at the National Historical Museum.
The Letter of Private Alberto Petrucelli (7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment)
Malvinas 1982
This is the story of a letter that was never sent to its addressee, written by the Argentine soldier Alberto Daniel Petrucelli before he was killed in action during the Battle of Mount Longdon, in the Malvinas, in 1982.
Although this letter did not come directly into my hands, I learned about it thanks to the kindness of Malvinas veteran Fernando Arabio. We got chatting after I posted on social media about the circumstances in which Sergeant Ian McKay, a British soldier of the 3rd Battalion of The Parachute Regiment, was killed while assaulting Argentine positions on Mount Longdon on the night of 11–12 June 1982. The Argentine soldier Alberto Daniel Petrucelli had been born on 18 October 1962 in the Federal Capital, and in the Malvinas he formed part of the First Rifle Group, Second Section, B “Maipú” Company, 7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment “Coronel Conde”.
The letter is addressed to Nancy, Alberto Petrucelli’s girlfriend, and is dated 29 May 1982. It is possible that he wrote it at a moment when he was left on his own because Corporal Gustavo Pedemonte, the group commander, and soldiers Enrique Ronconi (A Team Leader) and Felipe Ramírez (B Team Leader) had gone out on patrol to carry out a forward observation on the Murrell River. It is written on a sheet of Government Telegraph Service, Falkland Islands, stationery which Corporal Pedemonte himself had given him. Pedemonte in turn had received it from another soldier who had managed to get hold of some of the stationery that was seized in the house of the British governor Rex Hunt after Operation Rosario.
In the letter “from a hero to his official girlfriend” (as he himself headed it), Private Petrucelli conveys his deep love for his girlfriend and other feelings he was harbouring, from a strong faith in God and in the Virgin who protected him, to uncertainty about how events would unfold, which had remained unchanged since 1 May. Not least is his mention of that very day on which he was writing, when he was delighted to see snow start to fall and then disappointed shortly afterwards because the snow turned into British shells. The paragraph begins by telling her that he was well and that he would stay “escondidito” (“nicely hidden”), just as she had asked him to do in previous letters. However, in another passage of the letter Petrucelli wrote that he felt like crying but did not, because he “made himself strong and felt like a man”.
During the assault on the Argentine positions, carried out by the 3rd Battalion of The Parachute Regiment, Privates Alberto Petrucelli and Enrique Ronconi together with Corporal Gustavo Pedemonte brought down Sergeant Ian McKay, who fell on the edge of the foxhole they occupied. An hour later Private Julio Maidana joined the position and began refilling the magazines with two or three rounds at a time so that they could keep firing without delay. The three soldiers died heroically when a grenade managed to get into the foxhole and its explosion killed them. Corporal Pedemonte, who was at one end of the hole and shielded by the bodies of the soldiers, was hit by shrapnel in a leg and a buttock but survived. Afterwards, when the British soldiers who had approached the position moved away, he was able to climb out of the foxhole to seek help desperately for his men.
Private Gareth Rudd, belonging to the machine-gun team of 3rd Section, 2nd Platoon, A Company, 3rd Battalion The Parachute Regiment, told his comrade David J. Reeves that after the assault on Mount Longdon the British held firm in their defensive positions to protect themselves from the Argentine field artillery fire that was pounding them. Later, he went out with another soldier to patrol the northern side of Mount Longdon and they discovered the bodies of Sergeant Ian McKay and of the soldiers who had died with him while assaulting an Argentine position that had been very well constructed. They searched the position and found the bodies of three Argentine soldiers, pulled them out of the foxhole and laid them alongside the fallen British. The Argentine soldiers were better equipped with clothing and boots for the climate of the Malvinas, and as it was bitterly cold, Gareth Rudd took the duvet from one of the dead soldiers in an attempt to keep himself warmer. He then informed a non-commissioned officer about the bodies they had found and went back to his own shelter, as the Argentine artillery fire had started up again.
Gareth Rudd was part of the group of British soldiers who wrapped that whole group of dead British and Argentine soldiers in ponchos. It was not until he reached Puerto Argentino and settled with other soldiers in one of the houses that, when checking the pockets of the duvet, he discovered the letter from Alberto Petrucelli to his girlfriend Nancy. The letter ended up being kept in a wardrobe where he also had photographs, newspaper cuttings, maps and his own correspondence with his family.
More than forty years later, Mr David J. Reeves got in touch with Fernando Arabio and sent him the letter and the note in which his comrade Gareth Rudd told him how he had found it. Fernando managed to contact Mrs Nancy, who now lives in Chile with her family. At first, Mrs Nancy agreed to receive the letter, but in the end she decided not to, perhaps because of the memories it would stir up. Fernando then contacted Gustavo Pedemonte and the letter was donated to be placed on public display in the Museum of the 7th Mechanised Infantry Regiment.
Lieutenant Colonel Herbert "H" Jones was the highest-ranking British officer killed during the Malvinas War. He commanded the British Parachute Regiment and was a legend among his men. He was killed in action by Argentine conscript Oscar Ledesma, who was 19 years old at the time and in charge of the only functioning MAG machine gun in his group. Years later, the Argentine soldier wrote a heartfelt letter to Jones’s widow, Sara.
Open Letter to Sara (widow of Herbert Jones)
"Time acts in accordance with our deeds, and memory is shaped by our actions."
"At the age of just 19, I found myself facing the British 2nd Parachute Regiment on the morning of 28 May 1982, during the battle of Darwin Hill. Regardless of how the events unfolded, nothing can erase from my heart and mind the memory of that terrible confrontation."
"Eventually, I had to pull the trigger and bring down an adversary. At no moment did I feel hatred in doing so, nor did I ever boast about it or take joy in the act. I had no choice—I had to protect my fellow soldiers, who watched in terror as a Para assaulted their position, unaware that just a few metres away, my machine gun was waiting. Just as I did not know who that daring soldier was—who, in a display of astonishing bravery, charged an Argentine position."
"Once the battle ended, I offered a prayer for all those who had fallen, and I asked God to comfort their families."
"It has always weighed on me that I never had the chance to look you in the eye and tell you that your husband died as a brave soldier, and that his former adversary honours him every day with the utmost respect—just as I honour all the fallen."
"I offer you my deepest respects, and to your children as well—heirs of a valiant warrior."
Warrant Officer Ramírez was born in the city of Río Cuarto, Córdoba Province. His decision to enter the "General Lemos" School was made from an early age. "I joined the Army out of vocation. In primary school, I already had admiration for the military, the soldier, and national holidays. As I grew up, I got closer to the Army because I had a distant uncle who was a non-commissioned officer. We would sometimes visit him in Córdoba, and I’d see the soldiers and their uniforms. From the age of 8 or 9, I wanted to be a soldier. After finishing my fourth year of secondary school, I joined the Lemos School."
Ramírez described the life of a cadet as a tough stage: "As a cadet, it was a difficult period because I went from the comfort of home to the harsh discipline of the school – it was a big change. Still, I had strong family support. It was hard at first, but I never doubted my decision; I knew exactly what I wanted. I felt proud to belong to the Force and I truly enjoyed it." In early 1982, the second year of his training was going normally, and that week was meant to be leave for Easter to spend time with family. That changed abruptly when they learned they would be promoted to NCOs – corporals of the Argentine Army.
Warrant Officer Ramírez continued: “I was fortunate to be assigned to Infantry Regiment 12, which was then based in Mercedes, Corrientes, under the III Infantry Brigade. We were assigned to the Command and Services Company. At first, we were packing combat rations, but soon the whole brigade was mobilised south, leaving only a detachment behind. We were among the first to arrive in the islands, along with the medical section. That was a proud moment for me as an Argentine soldier. Once everyone arrived, the regiment began to be airlifted to Darwin. By 25 May, we could no longer be transported due to the presence of British commandos. That day we celebrated the national holiday by marching from our position in Challenger to Puerto Argentino – a 20 km walk. We were preparing to move to Darwin when soldiers from our regiment who had already seen combat in San Carlos arrived after retreating. We all boarded an Air Force helicopter, standing, in tense silence. The door gunner was alert, as British aircraft were nearby, and the pilot flew low, hugging the terrain to avoid detection. We landed in Darwin and Goose Green – the helicopter touched down in the village to avoid being spotted. As we disembarked, the siren sounded – red alert – and we scrambled to find defensive positions.
That night, combat began with British field artillery and naval fire, as we were in the Darwin isthmus, the land bridge connecting the north and south of East Falkland. The enemy advanced from the north, and we could see the artillery flashes and combat. The most striking moment was the final enemy assault – watching tracer rounds approaching until they reached our position. We fought until past noon the next day. Second Lieutenant Peluffo took command of our sector. We had no communication or chance to retreat. Our section surrendered, and the fighting stopped. There was a terrible, indescribable silence. When things calmed down, I left my position and saw the whole scene – smoke, and British troops already present. I approached them, saw the surrender flag, returned, and left my rifle, which was already out of ammunition. The British weren’t hostile. I asked them to assist a wounded soldier beside me. We were taken to another part of the island as prisoners – those uninjured stayed two or three days, while the wounded were flown out. We were later moved to San Carlos, where the rest of the regiment was held. We were captured on 28 May. 29 May was Army Day. A few days later, the ship moved, and we realised we were headed somewhere else.
On 13 June, we were dropped off in Montevideo. We were among the first to be captured and ended up in a neutral country. After disembarking, we passed through Red Cross tents for registration and boarded Argentine ships to return to the mainland. The next day, Puerto Argentino surrendered. That return was painful. I felt I hadn’t given everything – because I was still whole, uninjured. To me, giving everything meant dying or being unable to continue fighting. Afterwards, there was much uncertainty. We were taken by bus to ESPAC. We all returned to the same unit. I remained four more years at Infantry Regiment 12 – the most cherished posting of my career. I retired in Campo de Mayo, at the Army Aviation Directorate.
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.
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.
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:
Containment: Hold the penetration in place — that is, stop it or slow it so it cannot continue to advance.
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.
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
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.
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.
