The Quartermaster Corps in the Malvinas also Fought
Malvinas 1982
Account by Corporal First Class Víctor Schwindt, who lived his whole life in Pilar, Buenos Aires Province. He tells us: “My father greatly influenced my decision to enter the academy. He had served in the Marine Corps, and I had an adventurous spirit like any 15- or 16-year-old. I found that adventure in the Armed Forces. The year 1981 was very demanding, both in the classrooms where I studied the quartermaster speciality and in combat training. We underwent intense physical and mental training, during which we gained knowledge and adapted to military doctrine, ‘to live by the chain of command’. It was all very unexpected. On 2 April we were at the shooting range in Campo de Mayo. That’s where we learned that we had recovered our islands. I felt immense joy. Although at that time there was not much information about the Malvinas circulating in the media, from that deed onwards the existence of, and sense of belonging to, that territory took root across Argentine society. We were just starting the second year of the course and we did not expect to graduate so abruptly.”
In general terms they had an early graduation, something that has not happened again since. After graduating and receiving their corporal insignia, they swore loyalty and respect to the national flag dressed in combat uniform—something that would ordinarily be done in dress uniform, with a military parade and family present. Once they graduated, they joined the institution and immediately received their unit postings, already as junior non-commissioned officers.
Regarding his own experience, Corporal First Class Schwindt told us: “I went with a group of 12 quartermaster mates to Curuzú Cuatiá, to Logistic Battalion 3. When we arrived in the Malvinas we spent a couple of nights at Puerto Argentino airport and were then moved to some depots in a remote area. After a few days I was separated and assigned to the guard of General Daher until 26 May. From there I moved to the front line with my comrades Albarracín, Mansilla and Labalta, who were already there. The three of us joined a section that had been formed to reinforce the 4th Infantry Regiment. We were quartermaster men—drivers, signallers—the only one from the infantry arm was Sergeant Montellano. Our assigned sector was on Mount Harriet. We stayed there until the final British attack, when we were taken prisoner. I remember the constant siege and harassment from frigates, aircraft and British artillery. Their aim was to weaken us morally and physically. On the front line we were going full tilt all the time. We were tired, physically affected by the cold and rain, but mentally prepared to face all those situations. The position was held at all times, even though we were at a major disadvantage, because the situation was completely dominated by the British.
“I was one of the last to reach the front line. When troop movements ceased, positions across the mountain were occupied and I found a position about 30 metres away from my group on the mountainside. When they began to attack and due to the way they infiltrated, my position ended up forward and very separated from my section mates. I was caught in the middle of the crossfire between my comrades and the British as they advanced. Given where I was, I had two options: get out and try to climb in the middle of that chaos, or stay put and fight from there. I looked back and thought that retreating in those circumstances was riskier than holding where I was, so I fought from there. When I ran out of ammunition, that was when I felt most afraid, because I was defenceless and could not leave my position with the enemy so close. I decided to squeeze in between two rocks where I had set up a shelter and stay there in the dark, trying to survive.
“When I decided to leave, I fell back towards Puerto Argentino. I crawled for a stretch, in the dark and unarmed, trying to find something to defend myself with, when suddenly two British soldiers appeared. They were surprised; they saw I was unarmed, pointed their weapons at me and asked if I spoke their language. I was so taken aback that I froze, so I raised my arms and surrendered. I was unarmed, there was nothing I could do, and they took me prisoner. After a while I saw a column with other prisoners, among whom were my friends. Oscar Labalta was not there because he had died on the morning of 10 June from artillery fire—he was 17 years old. But I met up with Alejandro Albarracín and Carlos Mansilla. I joined the group of prisoners and they took us to Fitz Roy, where we were searched and interrogated. The questioning was very demanding on their part, but I never experienced or saw physical violence. We fought with great ethics and honour, and they recognised that. They were surprised by our attitude—our defence of our territory, all the values instilled in our training, our love for the Fatherland. From there we were moved to a cold-store in San Carlos and then embarked on the Canberra (the ocean liner) to Puerto Madryn.
“Corporal First Class Schwindt told us something heartening about the return. ‘The welcome and affection of the people of Puerto Madryn were extraordinary. It was the feeling of being back home; people hugged us—they truly showed us great warmth. That was when I began to realise that the war was over. Afterwards, they took us back to Curuzú Cuatiá by train.’”