Malvinas: May 27th on Goose Green

The 27th Was Hell

“On 2 April, I learnt that the islands had been recovered. At the time, I was serving as duty officer at the Military College, where I was an instructor to fourth-year cadets. That was where I found out that we had recovered them... It was a moment of tremendous joy,” Manresa says as he begins to tell his story.

A week later, I was appointed Officer Commanding A Company of the 12th Infantry Regiment “General Arenales”, based in Mercedes, Corrientes. When I arrived in Mercedes, I was ordered to move with the Regiment to cover a section of the border in Santa Cruz, an area between Río Turbio and Río Gallegos, as a precautionary measure. “There were indications that the Chileans might attack.”

Manresa recalls that A Company was made up of newly enlisted soldiers who had received virtually no training. He thought that, given a month in Santa Cruz, he could turn those recruits into lions. Some of the soldiers had completed primary school; others were illiterate, and for all of them the experience was something entirely new.

At Caleta Olivia, before reaching their destination, the Regiment’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Ítalo Piaggi, gave them news they could never have imagined.

“We were going across to the Malvinas.”

We were all stunned, yet overcome by an indescribable sense of euphoria.

At around 20 April, they began crossing over to Puerto Argentino. Because of poor planning — something that would become all too common at various stages of the war — essential Regimental equipment was left behind on the mainland: the heavy weapons, the batteries for the communications equipment and a large proportion of the spades needed for digging trenches.

“Every section crossing to the Islands should have arrived fully equipped and ready to go straight into combat, rather than arriving merely as riflemen. Tactically, it was a mistake; strategically, it was another misguided decision born of improvisation.”

A month later, they would end up digging their positions with the bayonets from their rifles and the mugs issued to them for drinking.

The positions they initially occupied were near the airstrip at Darwin. On 1 May, the defence of the area around the airstrip began. They remained in that position until 22 May.

Those were anything but quiet days. The British made their presence felt in one way or another, making it impossible to train the soldiers under his command.

“To conduct training, you have to gather a group of soldiers together, and doing that was practically a death sentence if an air attack happened at that moment.”

By 22 May, a day had already passed since the British had landed at San Carlos Strait. Acting on my own initiative, without anyone ordering me to do so, I altered the defensive layout and moved my company.

“When I had placed them in the new defensive sector, I went to see the Regimental Commander to report what I had done... I went there thinking they were going to beat the living daylights out of me, and instead I was praised.”

That reaction worried me. None of my superiors seemed to have realised that we were no longer a reserve force — we were now on the front line. I returned to my position more disappointed than pleased.

For four days, they dug trenches and strengthened their defensive positions.

“We could say that the position was reasonably well organised. The trenches were the proper depth, the field of fire had been properly cleared, and we had managed to obtain twenty anti-personnel mines from the Air Force.”

Even so, the condition of the troops was far from what was required to face the battle that was approaching.

“The truth is that we weren’t sleeping because we knew the British were coming. The soldiers were extremely weak.”

At midday on the 25th, the situation took another turn.

“I was called to the command post and ordered to move four kilometres forwards. While they were giving me the order, I looked at the only topographical map we had and realised they were sending me into a hollow, into low ground surrounded by higher terrain...

“I went mad. I started shouting. I told them I had no problem carrying out any order, but the orders had to make sense. They were sending me into a bowl. It wouldn’t even be target practice — it would be idiot practice — and to make matters worse, we would be surrounded by high ground.”

On the morning of the 26th, they moved their positions forwards, and the British were now even closer.

At midday, he was summoned once again to the command post and ordered to carry out a spoiling attack towards Cerro Alberdi, a height of 750 metres.

“I had another fit of rage and disbelief...

‘Do you know the condition my troops are in? They’re exhausted soldiers with almost no training. We only arrived at this position this morning, we haven’t even prepared our defensive positions... and now you’re ordering me to abandon them and move farther forwards.’”

“I remember thinking, ‘This is it. You’ve reached the end of the road...’ It was an attack that had to be carried out at night, without any support whatsoever.”

“Night fell, and I set off with two sections. I left Lieutenant Garra behind and moved out with the 2nd and 3rd Sections, commanded by Malacalza and Bracco respectively, to carry out the spoiling attack.”

A spoiling attack is intended to disrupt and destroy as much of the enemy force as possible before withdrawing rapidly. Logic dictates that if an operation — in this case, the spoiling attack — puts the main operation, which was the defence, at risk, then that attack should not be carried out.

And we had not even finished digging our defensive positions.

But those were the orders, and I had to obey them.

I set off towards the objective. It was night. We advanced in column before deploying into an extended line, carrying our rifles loaded, with a round in the chamber, safety off and ready to fire.

Halfway up the slope, in unfamiliar terrain as we climbed the hill, one soldier fell and accidentally discharged his weapon.

The operation had now been compromised, so from that point onwards the entire section began firing towards the high ground where we believed the enemy to be.

I ordered a ceasefire, and we waited.

When there was no reaction, I sent an observation party forwards. They confirmed that there was no enemy presence, and so we returned.

We reached our positions as dawn was breaking, at around nine in the morning.

By the 27th, we had already gone through two long days without sleep and with practically nothing to eat.

HMS Arrow, which was providing direct support to the British forces, had been shelling us. Our sector covered about 1,200 metres, so the rounds were landing a little to one side or the other...

British aircraft came over at least three or four times, dropping bombs and then returning to strafe us with machine-gun fire.

They flew so low that we could see the pilots’ helmets.

They did it because they knew we had no anti-aircraft weapons in that sector.

In the early hours of the 28th, they attacked us.

When the British assault began, the sky suddenly lit up with the tracer rounds they were firing at us.

Exactly what I had predicted happened.

They had night-vision equipment. All we could do was see where their fire was coming from and shoot back in that direction.

The only thing I could do was issue clear, simple orders that could actually be carried out.

We had three sections — roughly 140 men — with no fire support, very few night-vision devices, and we were exhausted.

They had an entire regiment: four infantry companies, around 600 men, twice as many machine guns, direct fire support from a field artillery battery, HMS Arrow, night-vision equipment, well-rested and well-fed troops, Milan anti-tank missiles...

The combat-power ratio was approximately eighteen or twenty to one.

We were facing the third most powerful member of NATO...

I began the withdrawal towards the positions at Darwin, the same positions we had occupied on 22 May.

The 3rd Section arrived with fourteen men. The 1st Section arrived with thirteen, and half an hour later Malacalza arrived with fifteen men from the 2nd Section.

My soldiers did more than was

The GADA 601 Becomes Support Artillery

ANTI-AIRCRAFT ARTILLERY ENDED UP CONDUCTING SURFACE FIRE
Account taken from the Gaceta Malvinense

What follows is a transcription based on the account of then Second Lieutenant Claudio Oscar Braghini, Commander of the Third Section of Battery “B” of the 601st Air Defence Artillery Group (GADA 601) of the Argentine Army…

During the fighting on 1 May, the RAF had identified the positions of the Argentine anti-aircraft artillery pieces, making a change of position necessary. A reconnaissance of the area was first carried out, as the route to be taken was littered with Beluga bombs that had failed to detonate due to the low altitude at which they had been released. The guns had to be moved over 1.5 km and be operational by the early hours of 2 May. Although the distance was short, only one tractor was available to tow two Oerlikon Contraves 35 mm guns (each weighing 6,000 kg), a Skyguard radar (around 5,900 kg), two field generator units (900 kg each), and 280 ammunition crates. This required an extraordinary effort from personnel, whose numbers had been halved, as the remainder were in Puerto Argentino and could not be redeployed because helicopters from Cóndor Air Base were engaged in airlifting Infantry Regiment 12 from Puerto Argentino to Darwin.

Despite everything, the section was operational at first light on 2 May.

To avoid a repeat of the surprise attack of 1 May, it was decided to maintain a permanent “red alert” posture, as the section was located about 80 km from Puerto Argentino and the terrain allowed Sea Harriers to attack at very low altitude without early warning from the surveillance radars in Puerto Argentino.

For the personnel, this operating regime meant extreme physical exhaustion, alleviated only by night-time rest—rest that was constantly interrupted by alerts from Puerto Argentino, British naval harassing fire, or reconnaissance flights detected by the Air Force’s ELTA radar near the position.

There was no alternative, despite insufficient personnel to rotate combat posts, since under these conditions aerial surveillance could not be neglected “for even a minute”—a statement based not on rhetoric but on mathematical calculation.

A combat aircraft such as the Sea Harrier has an attack speed of between 250 and 300 metres per second. Given that the maximum range of the Skyguard fire-control radar is 16 km, and assuming no terrain variations causing blind spots, and that the Harrier flies above 50 metres altitude, it could only be detected at 16 km. At 300 m/s, it would take 53.3 seconds (less than a minute) to cover that distance; by then, however, it would already be over the position, making engagement too late.

The maximum range at which fire can be opened is 4 km from the fire-control director, provided that radar “acquisition” and tracking of the target begins two or three seconds before the aircraft reaches that distance. Thus, timing is reduced as follows: from 16 km to 4 km—40 seconds—minus 3 seconds for acquisition and tracking leaves 37 seconds, and that under ideal conditions, which were certainly not those in the Falklands.

All this caused considerable strain. Personnel had to watch the radar screen with intense concentration from morning until nightfall; similarly, gun commanders and ammunition handlers had to remain at their posts in the open all day under harsh weather conditions. However, this demanding regime proved worthwhile on 4 May at 13:45, when three echoes appeared on the radar screen. All relevant communications were made. Second Lieutenant Braghini, together with his radar operator, Corporal First Class Ferreyra, allowed the three Harriers to approach to within 5 km without “acquiring” them, thereby preventing early warning and avoiding the risk of anti-radiation missile launch. The image of a Harrier approaching at high speed in low-level flight appeared on the TV monitor. Braghini fired the first burst, which struck the ground in front of the aircraft. The shells exploded ahead of the nose, and the aircraft immediately broke away in zigzag evasive manoeuvres. The Second Lieutenant waited for it to stabilise and pressed the firing switch again. This burst struck it directly, likely causing its fuel tanks to explode and completely tearing off its port wing. Engulfed in flames, the Harrier lost level flight, pitched up sharply, rolled along its longitudinal axis, and crashed to the ground. On impact, the pilot was thrown clear along with the ejection seat. His parachute deployed but became entangled in a fence. The wreckage, now a fireball, rose again, passed over infantry positions—burning two soldiers—and finally scattered across the end of the runway (Darwin airfield). Later, the body of the pilot, Lieutenant Nick Taylor of the Royal Navy, was found still strapped to his seat. The Sea Harrier bore the serial XZ450 and belonged to 800 Squadron.

As this aircraft was crashing, a second one was acquired by the fire-control system; it jettisoned its bombs to lighten its load and escape. Fire was opened, causing some damage, as it withdrew trailing a long plume of smoke. The third Harrier departed without causing damage.

This second attack confirmed the value of the section’s change of position, as the attack came from the opposite direction to the previous one—likely aiming to strike the former position and then operate freely. Continuous “red alert” also proved correct, as early warning from Puerto Argentino was not feasible due to the distance. After this, enemy aircraft limited themselves to reconnaissance at a distance. In the days prior to the ground advance, they again attempted to soften infantry positions, this time using chaff (metallic strips) to deceive radar, without success, as they were consistently met with heavy fire from GADA 601 and 20 mm Air Force guns near the runway. Harriers often withdrew damaged, and on one occasion one exploded in mid-air about 5,000 m from the position, falling into the sea.

From 27 May onwards, heavy artillery fire began to hit the runway and infantry positions. On the 28th, following bombardment, small-arms fire was received, with tracer rounds visible at night. From the position, it was unclear what was happening at the front. Argentine field artillery, under First Lieutenant Chanampa with three 105 mm Oto Melara howitzers, fired continuously through the night and into the next day until ammunition was exhausted. On the morning of the 28th, there was still uncertainty about events at Darwin, until the Air Force command post reported that friendly aircraft would attack British troops.

Minutes later, two Pucará aircraft arrived from Puerto Argentino and fired their weapons 4 km from the GADA 601 section’s position. Initially it seemed they had missed, but in fact British forces had advanced past the first lines during the night and were very close. Field artillery fire resumed immediately, reinforced by improvised rocket launchers mounted by Air Force personnel. Soon flares were seen and troops advancing in line formation north of Goose Green. It was unclear whether they were friendly forces withdrawing or British advancing. The sector—about 2,000 metres long and 700 wide—was open ground. The doubt ended when Air Force anti-aircraft crews reported incoming small-arms fire. Immediately, one of the GADA 601’s 35 mm guns opened fire—manned by Second Lieutenant Braghini with Corporals Rubina and Gallo feeding ammunition while soldiers continuously supplied rounds. The twin guns, firing at about 550 rounds per minute each, proved devastating in ground fire; British troops nearest the runway were left scattered across the terrain. Over the radio, Vice Commodore Pedrozo was heard urging: “Very good, GADA—keep it up, hit them hard!”

Fire continued for some time, always targeting concentrations of troops attempting to reach cover behind terrain features. At one point, the gun jammed due to a casing stuck in the chamber, fouled by dirt and grass from the intensity of combat. Corporal Gallo cleared it, but the brief delay allowed British troops to reach a small schoolhouse about 800 m away. Shortly after, mortar rounds began falling closer. Reports indicated small-arms fire coming from the schoolhouse windows. Braghini targeted the base of the structure; successive hits destroyed large sections and set it ablaze. It was later struck directly by 105 mm artillery, leaving only metal framework and piping.

Meanwhile, mortar fire closed in. One round struck the generator panel, cutting power to the gun. Manual operation was possible but ineffective against air attack, so Braghini ordered his men to move the 900 kg generator from another gun about 100 m uphill by hand. Although the northern advance had been halted, mortar fire intensified.

While attempting to move the generator, a shell landed just 5 metres from the previously used gun, damaging it and its generator. With the weapon unusable, Braghini ordered his men to take cover. At that moment, a Harrier dropped a Beluga bomb on the already disabled gun, but its aim was poor: half fell into the sea, the rest about 80 m away.

A British account later noted that radar-directed guns had been harassing 2 PARA, prompting an air strike by Harriers dropping cluster bombs, after which the intensity of the battle decreased significantly—suggesting the effectiveness of the Argentine fire.

Anti-Aircraft Artillery: Mission Accomplished!