Diplomacy: José María Ruda at the UN in 1964

José María Ruda Action at the UN in 1964

In 1964, an Argentine diplomat succeeded in placing the question of the Malvinas at the heart of world politics. It was not a symbolic gesture, nor a rhetorical exercise designed merely to place a protest on record. It was a legal and diplomatic intervention of remarkable precision, conceived to demonstrate before the United Nations that the British presence in the Islas Malvinas was not the product of some natural or uncontested historical development, but the consequence of a colonial act of force carried out in 1833.

On 9 September 1964, Ambassador José María Ruda appeared before the United Nations Special Committee on Decolonisation and set out Argentina’s case with clarity, discipline and firmness. His argument was straightforward in form, yet profound in its legal implications: the Islas Malvinas formed part of Argentine territory and had remained under unlawful British occupation since the expulsion of the Argentine authorities established there in 1833. In presenting the matter in those terms, Ruda did more than restate a national claim. He framed the dispute within the language of international legality, stripped it of imperial narrative, and restored it to its true character as an unresolved question of sovereignty.

The force of his address lay not only in the historical account of the British seizure, but in the legal consequences that flowed from it. Ruda argued that, following the occupation, the Argentine presence on the islands was displaced and a new population was established under British colonial authority. That point was fundamental. It meant that the present-day population of the islands could not be treated, in strict legal terms, as though it existed independently of the original act of force. To do so would be to convert the effects of occupation into a source of legal entitlement.

It was precisely on this ground that Ruda rejected any attempt to present the case as one of self-determination in the ordinary colonial sense. His position was that this principle could not properly be invoked to validate a demographic and political situation created by the very act whose legality was in dispute. The governing principle, he maintained, was that of the territorial integrity of states, a principle no less central to the post-war international legal order. In juridical terms, his reasoning was compelling: self-determination cannot be detached from the circumstances in which a population came to be constituted, nor can it be used to sanctify the consequences of territorial dispossession brought about by force.

The international climate of the time gave his intervention even greater significance. The world was in the midst of decolonisation, and the United Nations had already adopted Resolution 1514, the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples, calling for the speedy and unconditional end of colonialism in all its forms and manifestations. Ruda’s achievement was to place the question of the Malvinas within that great historical current while also distinguishing its specific legal character. He showed that this was not a conventional colonial case, but a singular and serious dispute involving the occupation by a colonial power of part of the national territory of Argentina.

The result was historic. In 1965, the General Assembly adopted Resolution 2065, formally recognising the existence of a sovereignty dispute between Argentina and the United Kingdom and calling upon both governments to pursue negotiations. That was a decisive development. The United Nations did not treat the matter as settled, nor did it reduce it to a question of local preference. It acknowledged, instead, that there was a bilateral dispute requiring a negotiated solution in accordance with the purposes and principles of the Charter. In legal and diplomatic terms, this remains one of the most important achievements ever secured by Argentina in the international arena.

More than six decades later, Ruda’s address still stands as a central point of reference because it united patriotism with legal discipline, national conviction with international argument. The Malvinas are not merely a matter of memory, nor a relic of past grievance. They represent a question of sovereignty that bears directly upon the South Atlantic, its natural resources, its maritime routes, and Argentina’s strategic projection towards Antarctica. At a time when the region is once again attracting growing geopolitical attention, the Argentine position demands seriousness, continuity and a firm sense of state policy. The strength of the national case has never rested on improvisation, sentimentality or passing formulas, but on a coherent legal foundation sustained across time. That is why Ruda’s intervention endures: not simply as an eloquent speech, but as one of the clearest juridical defences ever made of Argentina’s rights over the Islas Malvinas.

Malvinas: Height 234 and the 21-Day March

Height 234 and the 21-Day March

What took the Güemes Combat Team three days of marching and a helicopter flight cost Section “Gato” 21 days, physical deformities, lower-limb amputations, and, ultimately, surrender. After arriving in the San Carlos area, First Lieutenant Daniel Esteban deployed an advance element to warn of and ambush a potential British landing. On Tuesday 18 May, Second Lieutenant Roberto Oscar Reyes was due to relieve Second Lieutenant José Alberto Vásquez at the so-called Height 234, or Fanning Head according to British cartography. Section “Gato” consisted of four NCOs and 15 soldiers: the group of 21 infantrymen marched 14 kilometres towards the mouth of the strait with the mission of “providing early warning to the Force and, once reinforced with heavy weapons, ambushing any British troops that might enter through the channel”.

“The previous night was much like the ones before it, that is to say freezing and with very poor visibility — you couldn’t see two metres ahead,” recalled Reyes, who at the time was 25 years old and had four years of military training. Half an hour before Thursday turned into Friday, a soldier posted on security duty informed him that he could hear noises in the channel: conversations in English and acoustic signals coming from the mouth of the strait. The second lieutenant confirmed the suspicion: vessels were moving silently and with their lights off towards San Carlos.

The group of soldiers had two 81 mm mortars and two 105 mm recoilless guns to carry out the ambush. Reyes issued orders to prepare for combat and warned of the imminent opening of fire. But the first thing he tried to do was establish communication with First Lieutenant Daniel Esteban at the San Carlos command post. The batteries in the radio, after three days exposed to the cold, had very little charge left: the call went through, they could hear them, but they could not be heard in return. “This is Gato, this is Gato,” they said, unsuccessfully. The attempt at communication, and the subsequent explosion of the shells, may already have been warning enough.

A few minutes after two in the morning on Friday 21 May 1982 came their baptism of fire. The ships were within mortar range, but visibility was almost non-existent. “A few improper lights could be seen on deck and some conversations could be clearly heard carrying across the water; the fleet continued its stealthy advance and apparently had not detected us,” Reyes described. He ordered fire to be opened with the mortars using illumination rounds in order to determine the exact location and improve the effectiveness of the guns. But the strategy failed and the element of surprise was lost: the rounds did not light up the trajectory, and their own position was revealed by the flash of the shot. “From the moment the firing began until around three in the morning, I ordered several changes of position until the mortar ammunition was exhausted. From then on, the enemy reaction became more intense,” the second lieutenant later wrote in a personal account. Enemy fire was beginning to find the Argentine soldiers’ position. It was time to withdraw: “I ordered preparations for the retreat to begin. I was convinced that we had fulfilled the mission of alerting our forces and ambushing the British.” In perfect Spanish, a spokesman from a British ground patrol called on them to surrender. “They told us they were part of a battalion that had landed and that they would not harm us if we gave ourselves up, that we were surrounded and would not be able to get out, that we should hand over our weapons. This psychological action by the British had exactly the opposite effect on all of us: it made us want to break contact, withdraw, and rejoin our forces in San Carlos,” Reyes recalled. It had been more than three hours of intermittent, varied, but sustained attack.

Of the 21 combatants, only 11 remained together. The wounded and those who had gone missing amid the confusion of the withdrawal and counter-action had been captured as prisoners of war: none had been killed. The British were still searching for them and were so close that it seemed incredible they had not spotted them. They had just 40 rounds per man left. Their hiding place became a privileged front-row seat from which to watch Argentine aircraft attacking the British fleet of 17 ships.

On the first night they set out south-eastwards towards Puerto Argentino, following the coastline. They walked at night, covering roughly 3 kilometres a day. “We had no protection from the cold other than the clothes we were wearing. The damp, thick mist was always present; at times it was indistinguishable from a fine, freezing drizzle,” the second lieutenant recounted. Fear and the instinct for survival masked the hunger and the anguish. To escape a detachment of 15 British soldiers, they had to cross an inlet of the sea with soldiers who could not swim. They lost rifles, and Corporal Hugo Godoy nearly drowned, but the worst came afterwards: soaked clothing and the certainty of permanent cold.

Trench foot and gangrene were advancing rapidly in three soldiers. Godoy, Moyano and Cepeda needed urgent medical attention. They were left in the care of Clot, the soldier in the best physical condition, with enough food for two days, a first-aid kit, and orders to delay enemy pursuit by a day so as to give the other seven combatants time to continue their feat.

After marching for five nights, they reached a small settlement identified as New House, apparently deserted. “We were a truly pitiful group. Our clothes were in tatters, we were ill, our faces disfigured by suffering. None of us was older than 25, yet we looked like a group of wandering old men,” Reyes recounted. On the 21st day of the epic attempt to reach their own lines, they were woken by a full section that had encircled the settlement: a kelper hidden on the property had betrayed them. “From a position in the shed, I had a British soldier in my sights, and I told my men to do the same with others, but not to fire until I gave the order,” he described. Reyes calls himself a “professional soldier”: “I was prepared for the worst, and if I had ordered fire to be opened, those soldiers, though at the very end of their strength, would have done so. But I turned around and looked at them: we had lost the capacity to fight, we were in no condition to withstand even the slightest attack and get out of the place. I decided this was the end of our war; the time had come to surrender. I walked outside and laid down my weapon.”

Section “Gato” never managed to return to Puerto Argentino or reunite with the Güemes Combat Team. It was 11 June 1982: three days later, the Malvinas War would come to an end. The landing at San Carlos remains a source of pride for First Lieutenant Carlos Daniel Esteban and Second Lieutenant Roberto Oscar Reyes. It matters little that the operation was successful for the British troops. Such were the symptoms of an unbelievable war.

Puedo hacerte también una versión más literaria, más periodística, o más fiel al tono militar original.

Guerrero: A Soldier with a Missile as a Sword

Miguel Vicente Guerrero, the patriot who dreamed of a strong Argentina: the life, science and sovereignty of the “father” of the Condor II

To speak of Commodore Miguel Vicente Guerrero is to speak of one of those extraordinary Argentine figures who, even after having devoted their intellect, vocation and life to the service of the Nation, did not always receive in their own country the recognition they deserved. A soldier, scientist, strategist, teacher and nationalist, Guerrero was far more than the principal driving force behind the Condor II missile project: he was a man convinced that Argentina had to develop its own power, its own technology and its own defence capability in order to cease depending on others and to act in the world with sovereign dignity.

Born on 26 July 1943 in Caucete, San Juan, his life was marked from childhood by a national tragedy: the devastating San Juan earthquake of 15 January 1944. Guerrero survived that disaster, which destroyed the province and claimed the lives of thousands of Argentines, among them two of his younger sisters. That early wound, shaped by pain, loss and the harshness of a country that so often forced its sons to rise again from the ruins, seems to have forged in him a singular strength. From a very young age, he understood that life demanded fortitude, sacrifice and a sense of mission.

He studied on a scholarship at the Military Lyceum of Mendoza and later joined the Argentine Air Force, where he began a brilliant career. He qualified as an electronic and aeronautical engineer, graduating from the Military Aviation School, and his outstanding performance quickly placed him among the most promising officers of his generation. In 1964, while holding the rank of second lieutenant, he travelled to the United States on a scholarship to further his education. Years later, in 1974, he returned to specialise in missile technology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), one of the most prestigious institutions in the world, where he graduated with the highest academic distinction. That period abroad did not turn him into a technician in the service of foreign interests; on the contrary, it reinforced his conviction that the most advanced knowledge had to be placed at the service of Argentina.


Guerrero was an electronic and aeronautical engineer, graduating from the Military Aviation School.

Guerrero belonged to that rare breed of men who understood that science and national defence were not separate worlds, but parts of one and the same historical task. For him, a nation without technological capability of its own was a vulnerable nation. And a vulnerable nation, sooner or later, falls subject to the will of others. That idea would become central to his life’s work.

His name became permanently associated with the Condor project, and especially with the Condor II, one of the greatest technological achievements attained by Argentina in strategic matters. At the Falda del Carmen facilities in Córdoba, within a highly secret complex under Air Force control, Guerrero led, together with Argentine technicians, scientists and military personnel, an undertaking of enormous scale: to develop a vehicle with an indigenous projection capability, combining spatial, scientific and military deterrent applications.



The project did not emerge from nowhere, nor was it a mere military whim. It was the product of a comprehensive vision of the nation. On the one hand, it sought to provide Argentina with the capability to place satellites into orbit by national means, that is, to advance towards space autonomy. On the other, it offered a concrete instrument of deterrence against external threats, especially after the Malvinas War, when the brutal asymmetry between Argentina and a NATO power such as the United Kingdom was painfully laid bare.



Miguel Vicente Guerrero during his time at MIT (the Massachusetts Institute of Technology), where he graduated in Missile Technology in 1974

Guerrero clearly understood something that many political leaders never wished to understand: the recovery of bargaining power vis-à-vis the British occupier could not rest solely on diplomatic declarations, but also on the construction of national power. His reasoning was underpinned by impeccable geopolitical logic. If Argentina possessed a system capable of representing a genuine threat to the British military posture in the South Atlantic, London would be forced to increase enormously the cost of maintaining its occupation of the islands. And when the cost of an occupation becomes too high, politics begins to shift. This was not a reckless impulse, but a deterrence strategy aimed at narrowing the military gap and bringing the United Kingdom to the negotiating table from a different position.

For that reason, many quite rightly regard him as the “father of the Condor II”. For he was neither a secondary figure nor a mere administrator: he was one of its central minds, one of the men who gave direction, shape and strategic purpose to one of the most ambitious projects in the history of Argentine technology.

His career, however, did not end there. Guerrero also served as President of the National Commission for Space Research (CNIE) and was a pioneer of Argentine satellite telecommunications, in addition to working as a university lecturer and later as Dean of the Faculty of Science and Technology at the University of Salvador. In other words, he did not think only in terms of defence: he also sowed knowledge, trained professionals and helped to build lasting scientific capabilities for the country. His patriotism was not rhetorical; it was concrete, technical, institutional and profoundly Argentine.



During the Malvinas War, moreover, he served as a Major in the Argentine Air Force and took part in the planning of air missions. Once the conflict had ended, he joined the Rattenbach Commission, tasked with analysing responsibilities and assessing the conduct of the war. He had fought, he had thought deeply about defence, and he had contributed to the subsequent critical evaluation. He was, in short, a man of complete military integrity: committed to the Nation before the conveniences of the moment.



Bunker for the launch and control of the Condor missile at Cabo Raso, Chubut.

Yet, as so often happened in Argentina to those who dared to build real sovereignty, Guerrero’s fate ended up being marked by the political pettiness of an era. The Condor project, which had advanced significantly and aroused the concern of foreign powers, was ultimately dismantled during the government of Carlos Menem, within the framework of automatic alignment with the United States and Great Britain. The names of Domingo Cavallo, Guido Di Tella and the pressures exerted from the American embassy became associated with that decision, which brought to an end one of the country’s most promising strategic developments.


He studied on a scholarship at the Military Lyceum of Mendoza and later joined the Air Force.

It was not merely the closure of a programme: it was the deliberate renunciation of a historic opportunity for autonomy. And, as if that were not enough, Guerrero was not honoured for having carried out with distinction the mission that the State itself had entrusted to him; instead, he was punished by being forced into retirement, while the teams of technicians and scientists who had made that achievement possible were broken up. The paradox was scandalous: Argentina penalised one of its most capable officers for having succeeded in a task of vital importance to the national interest.


The Civil Association Friends of Cabo Raso were the driving force behind the tribute and also built a cenotaph in memory of Commodore Guerrero..

Even so, Guerrero did not yield. And it is here that the moral dimension of his character reappears. After his retirement, he received offers to continue his career in the United States, including in academic circles. He could have chosen prestige abroad, the comfort of foreign recognition, or the ease of a life detached from Argentine frustrations. He did not do so. He chose to remain in his country and to devote his knowledge to the education of new generations. He was a lecturer, dean, director and teacher. He continued serving the Nation from the classroom and from science, with the same loyalty with which he had once served in uniform.



Those who knew him remember him as a noble, brilliant, sober man, deeply committed to the Fatherland. He was neither an improviser nor an adventurer: he was a consummate professional, a serious strategist, a respected scientist and an Argentine firmly convinced that sovereignty is not begged for, but built. In times of cultural dependence, he championed national development. In times of political subordination, he thought on a grand scale. In times of resignation, he placed his faith in an Argentina that was capable.

His death, in August 2019, passed for many almost in silence, as though the nation’s forgetfulness were determined to repeat one of its worst habits: forgetting its finest sons. Yet the figure of Miguel Vicente Guerrero withstands that oblivion. He lives on in every Argentine who understands that there is no independence without science, that there is no effective diplomacy without power of one’s own, and that there is no future for the Nation if those who worked to make it freer, stronger and more respected are held in contempt.




To remember Commodore Miguel Vicente Guerrero is not merely to do justice to an exceptional man. It is also to recover a central lesson for contemporary Argentina: countries that renounce their strategic talent, punish their patriots and surrender their technological capabilities without resistance condemn themselves to impotence. By contrast, those peoples who honour their men of science, their honest servicemen and their builders of sovereignty keep alive the possibility of standing up once again.



The Condor II on its service tower.


Miguel Vicente Guerrero was one of those indispensable Argentines. A man from San Juan marked by tragedy, shaped by excellence, devoted to service, a leading figure in national defence, a driving force behind space and missile development, and an example of fidelity to the Fatherland. His life shows that Argentine greatness is not an empty nostalgia: it is a concrete possibility whenever men emerge who are willing to think, work and sacrifice for it.



And if Argentina should ever decide to rediscover its destiny as a sovereign, industrial, scientific and respected nation, it will have to look again towards figures such as his. For there, in men like Guerrero, there still beats an idea of the country that never surrendered.


En el 2016 recibió una distinción por su carrera en la Fuerza Aérea

San Carlos Landing: Accounts of the Troops of the 12th Regiment

Accounts of the Landing at San Carlos

By former Second Lieutenant “VGM” José Alberto Vázquez

Malvinas: Historias de Coraje




I was in command of a section of the 12th Regiment. On 15 May, in the Goose Green area, I embarked with my section aboard an Argentine Air Force Chinook helicopter, together with one 105 mm recoilless gun and two 81 mm mortars. Destination: somewhere in the north of the island. Two hours earlier, First Lieutenant Esteban and Second Lieutenant Reyes had done the same with their rifle section. At approximately 15:30 we arrived north of Height 234. The disembarkation was very rapid, as there were CAPs (combat air patrols) in the area. “Tell me where my commanding officer is,” I asked the vice commodore in charge of the helicopter. He replied that he had been unable to pick up First Lieutenant Esteban because of the notorious CAPs, and that he was on the other side of the height. The Chinook lifted off heavily and disappeared behind the rise.

We were left in absolute silence, feeling only the cold wind striking our faces. I was alone with my soldiers at the north-western tip of East Malvina; the sky was covered by a great mass of grey clouds, but on the far side of the strait one could clearly make out West Malvina. Behind me was the famous Height 234 (where Reyes, with 20 soldiers, would fight a short and violent battle against British commandos), and before me the immense Atlantic Ocean; and beyond that, Buenos Aires, where my wife and son were. I quickly abandoned my thoughts and organised the defence of the position. I had no idea whatsoever where the rest of the combat team was, and I needed to make contact as soon as possible, as I had less than two hours of daylight left. This task took me 45 minutes.

I left the section with its senior NCO and set off with Private Alberto Espinosa and Corporal Mansilla to look for the rest of the detachment. Strictly speaking, I should have sent out a patrol, but in real combat situations, and at the lowest command level (section), every activity was either led by the commander of the detachment or it was not done at all. That would become a defining characteristic from then on. There are circumstances in which the smallest tactical-level unit must divide. That is why, in war, the figure of the sergeant (section senior NCO) becomes fundamentally important in leading the section if necessary.

Armed with our personal weapons and ration bags, we began marching south, skirting the height on its eastern side. After 15 minutes of marching, we came upon a great stretch of water jutting eastwards into the island like a wedge. There was no trace of the detachment, only a small light visible on the far side of the strait (3 km away) to the south, and to the east, along the coast, a tiny glimmer that occasionally disappeared. There was no alternative but to head towards it.

The ground near the coast was full of irregularities, but I could not abandon the only point of reference I had, because I had neither compass nor map of the area, night was already closing in, and I had not the slightest idea where I was. After four hours of marching in pitch darkness, we came upon a small settlement, the first house 100 metres from our position. I knew that enemy special forces (SAS and SBS) were operating on the island, and I had to take the necessary precautions. For that reason I left my two men covering me from that position while I carried out a reconnaissance. Through one of the windows I saw a man and a woman having dinner. After giving the agreed signal, we entered the house, to the fright of its occupants. With my poor English I managed to learn that the place was San Carlos settlement and that Argentine soldiers had been occupying it since midday.

I left the NCO in the house and had the man accompany me to the bivouac of the supposed Argentines, with my pistol held 10 cm from the back of his neck. When I heard, “Halt, who goes there?”, I calmed down, and the kelper breathed again. I offered the appropriate apologies and joined my commanding officer. We spent the night there. First Lieutenant Esteban brought me up to date on the mission: in the event of a landing, we were to provide early warning and defend the position. He had established San Carlos settlement as the base and the observation post on Height 234. The combat team would be divided into three groups of 20 men, and together with Second Lieutenant Reyes (we called him Chelco) we would rotate; reliefs would take place every two days. The first shift would be under my command.

As my combat role weapon was a PA3 machine-pistol, Esteban had given me, before we left Goose Green, an Enfield .303 rifle with a case full of ammunition; thus, together with Private Espinosa, who did not carry an FAL because he was a radio operator, we formed an inseparable pair for the rest of the war, as he would be responsible for keeping me supplied with ammunition and I would be his shield of fire with that splendid Second World War rifle.

Before dawn, we drank some hot mate and set off for the post on Height 234 with First Lieutenant Esteban and 20 men. We arrived after two and a half hours of marching, and once the defence had been organised, Esteban and a group of men returned to base.

It was 16 May and my first wedding anniversary. Right then, two men set off and returned with a lamb, which we spitted and roasted using posts broken off from a wire fence. I had brought several packs of tinned soft drinks hidden in empty projectile boxes; I had borrowed them the night before departure from the store kept in the stone house (the command post of Task Force “Mercedes”) at Goose Green. Eight kilometres away lay the base of Combat Team “Güemes”, at Port San Carlos. The route was extremely difficult: stones, peat, and streams that could scarcely be seen, which made movement very hard indeed.

On the 17th I awoke very early, at first light, put water in my helmet, washed my face and teeth, and combed my hair. I heated a little water in my mug and prepared some mates. We had improvised the mate cup out of a soft-drink tin cut in half, and the bombilla was an empty BIC pen with the white cap and a few holes made with a heated nail.

At around 10:30, Second Lieutenant Reyes arrived with the relief. He had sprained his ankle. They were quite tired, and I offered them cold lamb and Coca-Cola. Chelco laughed and said to me: “You’re the only one who could welcome me with such a feast at the end of the earth, Rat.” And he embraced me. Rat was the nickname they had given me at the Military College, because I always found ways of getting hold of provisions, finding somewhere to curl up, and sleeping whenever possible.

Before leaving, we agreed to carry out the relief every five days because of the great wear and tear caused by marching across such terrain. I handed my helmet over to Reyes because he did not have one; the men of RI 25 wore berets. I then returned with my men to the base, with one less problem on my mind. At Goose Green I had had a fairly heated argument with a more senior officer who wanted me to wear my helmet in order to set an example to the troops, and he became quite angry when I told him that the example ought to be set by him, sleeping and eating rations with his men rather than under a roof in a house, as he had been doing.

At San Carlos we lived relatively well compared with the point on the strait. The inhabitants carried on with their normal lives, and we had to buy sugar, flour, and other things from them at market prices — their market prices, depending on how they happened to feel that day. Through our communications equipment (a Yaesu FT-101, a radio amateur set requisitioned from the kelpers in Darwin), I was able to speak with my wife.

On the morning of the 19th, sweeping frequencies, I picked up Belgrano II Antarctic Army Base communicating with the Antarctic Command. Since January, my wife’s cousin, engineer Gustavo Fossati, had been stationed there. In a matter of minutes, they established a radiotelephone connection with my in-laws’ house, and I was able to hear news of my family.

On several occasions during the night, enemy helicopters flew over us on reconnaissance missions, and with increasing frequency. That, together with other factors such as the geographical characteristics of the place, indicated that the enemy would carry out some action against our positions, and would do so soon.

On the night of the 20th, while I was organising my patrol for the next day’s relief on the 21st, the enemy began an intense preparatory, or softening-up, bombardment on various points of the island. Over the radio we heard several posts confirming those attacks. Lieutenant Esteban called me and informed me that he had changed the plans. A landing was now obvious. I had to send an NCO and a soldier to Height 234, with the համապատասխան communications set (Thompson), to give early warning in the event of a British landing. Reyes had to withdraw to our base with the men and the mortars, in order to form a defence with the whole combat team on the heights behind us. Unfortunately, we had no engineering tools, but the position was highly advantageous.

At approximately 01:30 we heard a great explosion in the distance and, 20 minutes later, an attempted transmission from Reyes. Then absolute silence. Before dawn, I woke the men who were to relieve Reyes. At first light they would begin the march. With the first daylight I was checking the radio and the weapons they would carry when a soldier posted 150 metres away on the upward slope of a rise began shouting for us. The sight was astonishing. Where only hours earlier a few seagulls had circled above the calm waters at the mouth of the San Carlos River, there were now five frigates surrounding a ship ten times larger (the Queen Elizabeth), and landing craft heading towards Ajax Bay and towards Port San Carlos, which was our position.

At approximately 600 metres, one could see an advance element of the British 2nd Parachute Regiment beginning its approach in combat formation towards our positions. As we ran down at full speed, Esteban said to me: “Gather everyone and form two groups, the one on the left under your command and the one on the right under mine.”

We had less than five minutes left to take up position on the north-eastern heights. While Esteban communicated with the commander of III Brigade to report events, I organised the two columns. I remember the soldiers looking at me with wide eyes, tense faces, and quickened breathing, waiting for orders. For an instant I remembered the telegram from my father received a few days earlier: “Your wife, an example of fortitude. Your son healthy and strong. Be an example to your soldiers.” I felt my heart pounding madly, as though it were about to burst. It had never happened to me before. It was fear, a great deal of fear, and suddenly I found myself giving orders, I do not know how.

We began moving with only our weapons, with the enemy entering the small settlement. Had we not done so, it would have been a massacre, for they would have pinned us with their advance and overrun us with the helicopter we shot down minutes later; tactically, we would have been lost. What might have happened afterwards, only God knows. The fact is that Esteban’s decision was the right one. For when we reached the summit, we saw a Sea King attempting to land behind our base. First Lieutenant Esteban ordered: “Open fire!” The aircraft was hit and turned orange from the tracers striking it, then collapsed from low height (5 or 6 metres).

At that moment I saw Esteban begin a change of position. I followed him. I believe what worried Esteban was being pinned down: 42 men with two machine guns and ammunition for one hour of combat against a landing force which, from what we could see, numbered 400 men in our sector — 2 Para Battalion — supported by naval artillery and helicopters.

The ground before us consisted of small ridgelines 70 to 100 metres high, with a general slope down towards the river. Our direction of movement was parallel to the river and perpendicular to the ridgelines, generally west to east. We went up and down. We were descending a gentle slope; the mist had already lifted and we had good visibility, when the second helicopter appeared, this time a Gazelle with rocket pods on its sides. It came along the river, which is quite wide there. At that moment the two columns were parallel to the river, separated by 60 to 70 metres from one another. Mine was the furthest away, about 100 metres from the shore.

The attack began with the first shot fired by First Lieutenant Esteban, as agreed: concentrated FAL fire. That is the combat tactic against aerial targets when one has no missiles. It seemed that what my first-year instructor at the Military College, First Lieutenant Abete, had taught me actually worked. The aircraft crashed into the water. The soldiers shouted every kind of epithet as the helicopter sank.

At a signal from Esteban, I carried out another change of position. At that moment, enemy mortar fire began falling on our initial position. We crossed another ridgeline and a third helicopter appeared, another Gazelle. There was no longer any need to issue orders: the conscripts were already behaving like veterans, they knew what to do. But the aircraft spotted our position and manoeuvred to bring fire to bear. When it dipped its nose to take aim, we once again emptied the whole magazine at the same time and at the same target. As the ammunition was tracer — that is, one could see the trajectory of the projectile as a trail of fire — it looked as though it were being attacked with a flamethrower. By then several of the soldiers were firing from one knee or even standing up.

The Gazelle passed over the first column and flew completely out of control towards my column. Everything happened so quickly that there was no time to move. It crashed 15 metres in front of me. The soldiers’ shouting was uncontrollable: “LONG LIVE THE NATION, DAMN IT!”, mixed with some sapucai cries and various other words, was heard until a crewman emerged from the machine and many of us opened fire on him. He was defenceless, he posed no danger to my soldiers. Why did we kill him? I still feel deep anguish over that death. Although I know that in the emotional state we were all in, the only thing one thinks of is firing and firing and firing until nothing moves. Besides, moments earlier he had wanted to kill us, so at the time it seemed just.

The mortar fire continued, but it was obvious that they did not have our location, since it was falling on the previous position and the shape of the ground was shielding us. We crossed a great rise, like a headland, projecting into the wide San Carlos River, and found ourselves at a cliff 10 or 15 metres high. We climbed down with difficulty and took up position among the rocks beside the shore. We could already hear the engine of another helicopter. It appeared round the side of the headland, as though searching for us along the coast, but our cover was excellent and we let it come closer. When it entered range we opened fire again. It began to fall and we stopped shooting. Before hitting the water, the pilot managed to lift it and cross the headland, crashing on the far side.

We were too far away to expect reinforcements. It was clear that what we had to do was withdraw until we made contact with our own troops, 80 km away. We had no ammunition, provisions, or equipment for sleeping out in the open. We were all on the alert, waiting to see what the enemy’s next move would be, when we heard an aircraft approaching, and within seconds it passed at great speed and very low towards the enemy positions. It was an Aermacchi; later we learned it was being flown by Lieutenant Crippa. He had taken off as soon as our warning was received. It was the first aircraft to arrive and drop its bombs and fire its machine guns at a frigate.

At that moment I felt great relief and thought: “Now we’ll throw the whole air force at them and, in five hours, our commandos and B Company of RI 12, which is in reserve at Port Stanley, will counter-attack.” That was merely the thought of a second lieutenant. We had suffered no casualties. The British had lost four helicopters and nearly a dozen men.

We decided to wait to see whether we had any news of Reyes; besides, it was a safe place in which to catch our breath and clear our heads. Second Lieutenant Reyes and his group had fought a short and violent battle in the early hours of 21 May. He first endured naval bombardment on his positions and then an attack by the Special Boat Squadron (SBS), naval commandos, and several amphibious armoured vehicles. In that action he suffered six casualties.

Given the scale of the landing, and having lost almost half his men, he decided, taking advantage of the poor visibility of the night, to try to break out of the encirclement closing around him in order to avoid annihilation. He succeeded 24 hours later and began a withdrawal that lasted almost 20 days, with no food, exposed to the elements, and suffering severe health problems, to the point that, with a penknife, he had to amputate a corporal’s foot. Port Stanley had already fallen, and Reyes, with the five starving soldiers he had left, malnourished and some already without teeth because of decalcification, was finally surrounded by British forces who demanded his surrender.

He asked his soldiers whether they were willing to fight. But they did not answer; they simply awaited their commander’s order, as always. Reyes, knowing he had not the slightest chance of success, surrendered. In Buenos Aires, when two years later we met again and told each other what we had lived through, he said that it was the expression on those five faces that led him to surrender on that occasion.

Later, we began a slow withdrawal eastwards and by dusk reached an outpost of San Carlos settlement. But that is another story.

Malvinas: The Medical Unit in Combat (Part 1)

The Medical Unit in Combat (Part 1)

Private “VGM” DAVID DIAZ

As I belonged to the Medical Unit of the Service Company, when the detachment that was to depart for the Malvinas was being formed, I was assigned as a stretcher-bearer together with Private Dardo Romacho, who had studied medicine and was from Añatuya. Like the rest of the members of the Military Aviation School, we left for Comodoro Rivadavia, then for Puerto Argentino, and finally for Goose Green.

At first we were quartered in an old school together with members of the Argentine Army’s 25th Infantry Regiment. We were then moved to one of the islanders’ empty houses, since, by order of the commanders of the various detachments, the Kelpers had been instructed to leave their homes and go to live all together in the church, as a way of keeping them under control and preventing them from carrying out intelligence activities or observing our positions, movements, and so forth.

After the British attack of 1 May, we occupied a house located between Darwin and Goose Green. With regard to that first enemy attack, I remember that on that day I was on guard duty at the Command Post, and I was feeling rather sad because I was thinking of my beloved Santiago, since that day is Labour Day and in my city people go to Aguirre Park intending to spend a pleasant day, eating barbecues and dancing chacareras. I would normally go there with my family and friends. But that nostalgia was abruptly interrupted when I suddenly heard a very loud noise and saw, on the horizon, two aircraft coming straight at us dropping bombs.

By instinct I threw myself flat on the ground and managed to escape unharmed, but unfortunately other comrades were not so lucky and were hit by the aircraft’s accurate fire, some losing their lives and others being wounded. Sadly, the members of the Medical Unit were given the most thankless mission, having to move and bury the dead and tend to the wounded. Private Romacho normally dealt with the wounded because he had medical knowledge, while I had to deal with the dead. As I could not carry out this task alone, First Lieutenant Beranek asked for two soldiers to be assigned to assist me. They dug the graves, while I wrapped the dead in black plastic zip bags, and then we buried them.

“It was a very hard experience for me, one that marked me for life,” because it was the first time I had ever had to touch a dead person or help treat the wounded. The impact this had on me was such that I did not eat for three days.

Two days later, while we were digging the last graves for burial, we were attacked by a formation of Sea Harrier aircraft which flew over our heads. As soon as we heard the alarms, we “dived head-first” into the graves, thus avoiding being cut down by the bullets that were “sweeping the ground”. Once the assigned task had been completed, I went to the settlement, where I obtained timber and nails, built some crosses, and placed them on the makeshift graves as a sign of Christian respect and to honour their memory.

In one of those attacks, I remember that one of the pilots ejected wounded as a result of shots fired by Private Loaiza, but when he hit the ground he died. Once again I had the sad mission of burying him. He was a heavily built man, and it took me a great deal of effort to wrap him in plastic because his body was very contracted and partly burnt. I had to cut the tendons below the knee, bend his leg, and in that way I was able to fit him into the bag.

But besides carrying out that very hard task, I also performed medical duties, that is, supporting the men through treatment, providing them with medicines, and so forth, which gave me some comfort because I was helping to relieve people’s suffering. In general, our function was to go round the positions every day handing out a pill that we called a “vitamin” tablet because it “gave greater strength and endurance”, as it allowed us to stand guard and work for several hours without feeling any tiredness at all.

We provided medical support both to Air Force personnel and to the Army soldiers. The fact of taking our medical support to the personnel defending the Darwin area, Goose Green, and other places on East Malvinas allowed me to get to know many people and places, and to take part in and witness events which I shall now relate.

One day we stretcher-bearers were ordered to move under Corporal Waitima’s command to a place on the island where a ship carrying survivors had run aground. We were loaded into a helicopter and, when we reached the ship, we could see that it was half-sunk, but we saw no sign of any living personnel. On the way back, the helicopter pilot, faced with the presence of enemy aircraft, began flying at ground level, skimming past the mountains, until he landed and ordered us to evacuate quickly and take up position well away from the aircraft. And so we remained for more than two hours, and when we were sure that the danger had passed, we boarded again, took off, and were able to return to our positions.

Another event in which my companion Romacho and I took part occurred when, in the midst of the calm of a sunny and peaceful day, we first heard the alarm sound, then anti-aircraft fire, and finally saw a combat aircraft crash. Unfortunately, it was a Navy aircraft that had entered the exclusion zone without requesting due authorisation. In that incident its pilot, Lieutenant Gavazzi, was killed. Romacho was ordered to go to the site where the aircraft had come down and bring back the deceased. When he returned, he brought only some human remains that had been scattered around the aircraft. We buried him together with the others.

One day a Prefecture launch approached, bringing us medicine and food. As it entered San Carlos Strait, it was attacked by two Sea Harrier aircraft. In that action one person was killed and two others were wounded. The latter were evacuated by helicopter to Puerto Argentino, and the dead man was buried in the cemetery that, without intending to, we had inaugurated.

One morning, while we were resting, we were ordered to go to Elephant Bay to collect an English pilot who had ejected and, after falling into the water, had been rescued by an Argentine Commando, who had taken him prisoner. We went by helicopter and brought him back together with the commando, who spoke perfect English. The prisoner had a fractured collarbone and, after receiving first aid, he was transferred to Puerto Argentino.

Malvinas War Told by Pilots Who Fought It

Malvinas: The Shackleton Incident 

Source: Sean eternos los laureles

When Argentina enforced its sovereignty! On 4 February 1976, the destroyer ARA Almirante Storni of the Argentine Navy chased with cannon fire the British oceanographic ship RRS Shackleton to Port Stanley, Malvinas/Falkland.

On Wednesday, 4 February 1976, a destroyer from the Sea Fleet of the Argentine Navy on maritime control navigation, the D-24 ARA Almirante Storni, intercepted the British oceanographic ship RRS Shackleton of the BAS, British Antarctic Survey, which without authorisation from the Argentine authorities was sailing within Argentine jurisdictional waters carrying out scientific tasks of geological prospecting. An incident occurred when the Argentine maritime authority demanded the immediate internment of the intruding vessel, which, when it resisted, was driven off by cannon fire from the Argentine warship.

This incident, which was in fact more complex than briefly described—as we shall see later—was neither isolated nor accidental, but the consequence of a failed process of delaying and useless negotiations on the British side, and forced by international pressure after 133 years of patient and peaceful Argentine claims and British intransigence, initiated in 1967, and which by January 1976 had already lost nearly 10 years with an invader who had no intention whatsoever of returning the occupied territory.

The destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (nicknamed "the Greyhound"), of the 2nd Destroyer Division of the Argentine Navy’s Sea Fleet, was a former US Navy DD-547 USS Cowell, a "Fletcher"-class vessel launched at the Bethlehem Steel Shipyard on 18 May 1943. It was modernised to SCB 74A standard (Ship Characteristics Board) in the late 1950s and early 1960s. The ship measured 114.7 metres in length, 11.9 metres in beam, and had a draught of 4 metres. It displaced 3,500 tonnes and could reach a top speed of 35 knots, thanks to its two General Electric turbines and four Babcock & Wilcox boilers delivering a total of 600,000 HP. It had a range of 11,112 km at a cruising speed of 15 knots, and was equipped with powerful armament: four Mk-30 mounts with 127/38 mm guns and three twin 76.2 mm anti-aircraft mounts. The crew complement was approximately 230 personnel.

Transferred to the Argentine Navy, it was commissioned under the Argentine flag on 10 December 1971 and served until 21 August 1979. It was sold for scrapping on 29 December 1981, which was carried out in the Buenos Aires locality of Campana in 1982.

The single 127/38 mm Mk-30 gun mounts were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, originally featuring an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder (replaced in the post-war SCB 74A variants used by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar), connected to a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by a Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm. These guns, which originally numbered five turrets on Fletcher-class destroyers but were reduced to four following SCB 74A modernisation, had an elevation range of +85°/-15° and fired 127×680 mmR shells weighing 24 to 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute, with a muzzle velocity of 790 m/s. Maximum range was 16,000 metres in surface fire and 11,300 metres in anti-aircraft fire. They could penetrate belt armour up to 127 mm thick at 3,700 metres or deck armour up to 25 mm thick at 12,600 metres. The average barrel life was about 4,600 rounds at maximum charge.

The 2nd Destroyer Division was at one point composed of the five SCB 74A-modernised "Fletcher"-class destroyers that served in the Argentine Navy as the Almirante Brown class. These included:

• D-20 ARA Almirante Brown (ex-DD-532 USS Heermann), in service 1962–1979;

• D-21 ARA Espora (ex-DD-670 USS Dortch), in service 1962–1979;

• D-22 ARA Rosales (ex-DD-644 USS Stembel), in service 1962–1981;

• D-23 ARA Almirante Domecq García (ex-DD-630 USS Braine), in service 1971–1982;

• D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (ex-DD-547 USS Cowell), in service 1971–1979.

These imposing vessels were eventually decommissioned to be replaced by six new-generation MEKO-140A16 corvettes, part of the naval rearmament plan designed by Admiral Massera. This class represented the most advanced type of vessel in the Argentine fleet during the 1970s and 1980s, and they were built at the AFNE shipyard in Argentina. These corvettes still form the core of the Argentine Navy’s Sea Fleet. However, due to a complete lack of modernisation during their decades of service—and their failure to be replaced by more advanced vessels as part of the controversial unilateral disarmament and dismantling of the Argentine Armed Forces and Defence infrastructure initiated in 1983 and deepened in 2003—they have lost nearly all of their combat capabilities. Without modernisation, they are being reduced to mere offshore patrol vessels, marking the transformation of the Argentine Navy into a sort of Naval National Guard or Coast Guard Corps, effectively leading to its eradication.

The Malvinas/Falkland Islands were first sighted by Spanish navigators in the 16th century, on 7 April 1502, by Amerigo Vespucci; the first maps were Spanish from 1520, and the first to disembark on the Islands were Spaniards—Alonso de Camargo on 4 February 1540, remaining until 31 December of that year and claiming them for the Spanish Crown.

The English only sighted them 90 years after Spain, in 1592, and the first British landing only took place in 1690 by Captain John Strong of HMS Welfare, who named Falkland Sound the strait between the two main islands, in honour of Lord Falkland, Treasurer of the Royal Navy, when the islands had already been Spanish for 188 years!

Single Mk-30 127/38 mm gun mounts from the destroyer D-23 ARA Almirante Domecq García, sister ship of the ARA Almirante Storni. These guns were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, which originally included an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder (replaced in the post-war SCB 74A variants used by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar). The system was linked via a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by an Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm.

On Fletcher-class destroyers, these guns were originally mounted in five turrets, though this was reduced to four following SCB 74A modernisation. With an elevation range of +85°/-15°, they fired 127×680 mmR shells weighing between 24 and 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute, with a muzzle velocity of 790 m/s. Maximum range was 16,000 metres in surface fire mode and 11,300 metres in anti-aircraft mode. The shells could penetrate belt armour up to 127 mm thick at a distance of 3,700 metres, or deck armour up to 25 mm thick at 12,600 metres. The average service life of the gun barrels was approximately 4,600 rounds at full charge.

These islands off the South American coast had been confirmed as Spanish by the Treaty of Utrecht of 1713, but the French established themselves there in what they called les îles Malouines in 1764, and thus claimed by France, an act that provoked strong protests from the Spanish. In 1765, Captain John Byron of the Royal Navy claimed the islands for King George III, as Falkland Islands, and in 1766 a British settlement was established in West Falkland. However, in 1767 the French accepted the Spanish claims over the territory and handed over their colony in East Falkland, today Isla Soledad. In 1770, the Spanish forced the small illegitimate Royal Navy garrison in Puerto Egmont to abandon it. Intense negotiations between the two countries resulted in Britain returning to Port Egmont in 1771, but later Spain reserved the right to sovereignty and the British settlement had to be abandoned in 1774, despite Britain’s futile claims over the islands. The islands remained as the Spanish colony of Islas Malvinas, with continuous Spanish authority and garrison from 1766 until 1811, when authority continued to be exercised from the head of the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata due to the Revolution, until Argentina, having achieved independence from Spain in 1816, took possession based on the uti possidetis iuris as heir to the Spanish sovereignty over the islands, and in 1820, with the Malvinas under Spanish possession, the government of the still United Provinces sent a frigate to take possession and reaffirm sovereign rights—finding no authority, garrison, or British possession whatsoever! For they were never British. An Argentine population was established and a governor appointed, which provoked unjustified protests from Britain in 1829 with sovereignty claims it never held. On 10 June 1829, an Argentine military garrison was established in anticipation of arbitrary British claims.

The British scientific oceanographic research vessel RRS (Royal Research Ship) Shackleton, a 1,082-ton ship operated by the British Antarctic Survey, measured 65.78 metres in length, 11.08 metres in beam, and had a draught of 4.66 metres. It was powered by a 6-cylinder MAN diesel engine producing a maximum of 785 BHP at 275 RPM, driving a Kamena controllable-pitch propeller, which enabled a maximum speed of 9.7 knots and an average cruising speed of 7.8 knots. It had an operational autonomy of 28 days and accommodation for 31 personnel.

The vessel was launched on 11 November 1954 by Solvesborgs Varv A/B shipyard in Sölvesborg, Sweden, under the name MV Arendal (III) for service in the Baltic Sea. It was acquired in 1955 by the Falkland Islands Dependency Survey (later the British Antarctic Survey), renamed Shackleton, and re-designated as RRS Shackleton in 1968, undergoing modernisation in 1971. It served extensively in Antarctica and the South Atlantic between 1955 and 1992.

On 4 February 1976, while sailing approximately 125.5 kilometres south of Cape Pembroke, Port Stanley, the capital of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, returning from a survey mission in surrounding waters as part of the so-called “Shackleton Mission”, the vessel was intercepted by the Argentine Navy destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni of the 2nd Destroyer Division. The Argentine warship attempted to board the vessel, and when the British ship began to flee, it fired several warning shots. However, it ultimately allowed the vessel to escape, escorting it nearly up to the entrance of Port Stanley.

After its service with the British Antarctic Survey, the Shackleton continued to operate under the Natural Environment Research Council (NERC) as an oceanographic research vessel, visiting Antarctica on five more occasions before being retired from NERC service in 1983. That same year, it was renamed Geotek Beta, and in 1984, Profiler. It left South Atlantic operations in 1989 and was reconfigured as a high-resolution seismic and seabed survey ship, operated by Gardline Shipping Limited. It was renamed Sea Profiler in 1992 and remained in service for many more years. The vessel was finally scrapped in New Holland, on the Humber Estuary, in 2011.

In 1831, a dispute over the Argentine apprehension of American seal hunters accused of poaching led to the USS Lexington intervening and destroying fortifications in Puerto Soledad. The Americans unilaterally and illegally declared the islands free of sovereignty before sailing off. Argentine control was immediately reestablished until 1833 when the British war frigate HMS Clio, commanded by Captain John James Onslow, seized the territory, facing almost no Argentine resistance due to a mutiny suffered by the captain of the Argentine schooner Sarandí, José María Pinedo, at the moment of the aggression.

Since the British Empire forcefully invaded the Malvinas Islands on 2 January 1833, expelling the Argentine authorities, Argentina has always pursued a peaceful and patient diplomatic claim for the British invader to rectify its aggressive and illegitimate position, as it had no business in the South Atlantic and the Falkland Islands, not only for being waters and territory under Spanish jurisdiction later inherited by Argentina, but also due to Britain’s own initiative in imposing the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 upon Spain, in which London authorities renounced all possession, claim, and right in the South Atlantic—something later reaffirmed through various agreements such as the Nootka Convention, which by historical precedent and legal and diplomatic principles left the British Crown with no sovereign right whatsoever in the South Atlantic, and no right to claim anything. Nevertheless, by settling by armed force and invading Argentine territory since 1833, Britain never accepted Argentina’s peaceful claims, showing intransigence in sustaining its colonial position within Argentine territory.

Edward Arthur Alexander Shackleton, Lord Shackleton, was the son of the famed Irish Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton (1874–1922), who led the renowned Discovery, Nimrod, and Imperial Trans-Antarctic expeditions to the White Continent in the early 20th century. Sir Ernest was knighted and hailed as a hero among his compatriots in the United Kingdom for his achievements in polar exploration.

His son, however, who led the 1976 fact-finding mission aimed at assessing the economic development potential of the British colonial territory of the Falkland Islands during January and February of that year—a mission that ultimately led to the incident involving the Argentine destroyer ARA Almirante Storni and the British scientific research vessel RRS Shackleton on 4 February 1976—was, at the time, Vice-Chairman of the Falkland Islands Company (FIC). In this role, he was directly invested in maintaining the prevailing status quo.

It is therefore highly likely that the favourable report produced by Lord Shackleton, recommending the continued British control of the Falkland Islands, was influenced by his own personal economic, financial, and commercial interests, as well as those of British oil companies. These same companies had, in fact, previously lobbied the British government to fund the Griffiths Report, presented in March 1975.

Although over time, between the British invasion and the present, in addition to Argentina’s diplomatic claims, a series of physical actions were also undertaken by Argentina, such as the incursion of Navy seaplanes on 22 January 1940 (idem links), which, not being detected by British authorities and not escalating, never carried significant weight in the bilateral relationship between both countries, nor in the series of claims being made. Even an incident carried out by Argentine extremists who hijacked an Argentine-flagged aircraft to land it in then Port Stanley, capital of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, carried out on 28 and 29 September 1966, also had little relevance as the Argentine authorities were not involved in that clearly criminal act. As a consequence, shortly afterwards the Argentine Navy carried out an incursion of tactical divers via submarine S-11 ARA Santa Fe at Playa Vaca, on 28 October 1966 (idem links), for preventive reconnaissance purposes in the face of a potential military intervention.

Lord Shackleton at his father's hut in Cape Royds, Antarctica.
Edward Arthur Alexander Shackleton, Lord Shackleton, was the son of the famous Irish Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton (1874–1922), who led the renowned Discovery, Nimrod, and Imperial Trans-Antarctic expeditions to the White Continent in the early 20th century. Sir Ernest was knighted and is regarded as a hero among his fellow Britons for his achievements in Antarctic exploration. His son, who headed the 1976 mission to assess the economic potential of the British colonial territory of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands — which led to the incident between the Argentine destroyer ARA Almirante Storni and the British scientific research vessel RRS Shackleton on 4 February of that year — was, at the time, Vice-Chairman of the Falkland Islands Company (FIC). As such, he was a key stakeholder in maintaining the existing status quo. It is therefore highly likely that the favourable report he produced — supporting continued British control of the Malvinas/Falklands — was influenced by Lord Shackleton’s own economic, financial, and commercial interests, along with those of British oil companies. These same companies had previously encouraged the UK government to fund the Griffiths Report, presented in March 1975.

A significant event that must be taken into account was when, upon assuming the presidency for the first time, then still Colonel Juan Domingo Perón decided to settle the impressive war debt owed by the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to Argentina during the course of the Second World War. Despite the fact that Argentine political authorities sympathised with the Axis powers, in essence they maintained their support for the Allied side and supplied it throughout the conflict, especially the United Kingdom, through extensive credit that proved indispensable for the British war effort. However, President Juan Domingo Perón, an unconditional ally of the British Crown and the conservative administration of Winston Spencer Churchill, accepted the imposition of the known Freemason of Blenheim regarding the inconvertibility of the Pound (£) to gold, and the Peronist government settled for the repayment of the debt in exchange for manufactured goods and British property. This was essentially made up mostly of abundant surplus war armament (it was Churchill who equipped the Argentine Armed Forces during Peronism!), plus some newly manufactured aircraft which almost immediately, in a few years, became obsolete (Meteor fighters and Lincoln bombers), the Argentine railways (which had to be almost entirely rebuilt over the next 20 years), and the meat-packing plants (to repay the union favour of the 17 October 1945 march to release Perón, who was imprisoned for his “arrangements” with unions, a march that began with full backing from British-owned meatpacking plants in the southern Greater Buenos Aires area). However, the latter fell into the hands of slave-driving businessmen friendly with the Peronist regime, and labour exploitation and conflicts persisted. But the most striking fact is that during that moment, and throughout both of Perón’s presidencies, at no point did President Perón demand the British withdrawal from the South Atlantic and the immediate decolonisation of Malvinas/Falkland, South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands, despite Britain’s economic and political weakness and the fact that at that moment Britain was a debtor to Argentina, and at a time when the British colonial empire was collapsing across the planet.

Lord Shackleton visiting his father’s grave in Grytviken, South Georgia, during the controversial 1986 mission to assess the economic development potential of the British colonial territory of the Falkland Islands.

Edward Arthur Alexander Shackleton, Lord Shackleton, was the son of the famed Irish Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton (1874–1922), who led the renowned Discovery, Nimrod, and Imperial Trans-Antarctic expeditions to the White Continent in the early 20th century. Sir Ernest was knighted and regarded as a national hero in the United Kingdom for his exploits during these expeditions.

His son, however, who headed the economic survey mission to the Falkland Islands in January and February 1976—which culminated in the incident between the Argentine destroyer ARA Almirante Storni and the British scientific research vessel RRS Shackleton on 4 February of that year—was at the time Vice-Chairman of the Falkland Islands Company (FIC). In that capacity, he was directly invested in maintaining the prevailing status quo.

Given this context, it is highly probable that the favourable report he produced—advocating for the continued British possession of the Falklands—was shaped by Lord Shackleton’s own economic, financial, and commercial interests, along with those of British oil companies, which had already lobbied the UK government to fund the Griffiths Report presented in March 1975.

Despite Argentina’s political inaction at such a favourable moment for the country, British colonial intransigence suffered its first setback on 14 December 1960, when the UN General Assembly issued Resolution 1514, also known as the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples, which became the cornerstone of the decolonisation movement and ended up including the Malvinas/Falkland Islands as a territory to be decolonised, having already been included since 1946 as a non-British territory, i.e. as a colony. For in Chapter XI of the United Nations Charter, Non-Self-Governing Territories are defined as “territories whose peoples have not yet attained a full measure of self-government.” In this sense, the General Assembly, in its Resolution 66 (I) of 14 December 1946, included a list of 72 territories to which Chapter XI of the Charter applied. In 1963, the Special Committee on the Situation with Regard to the Implementation of the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples (also known as the Special Committee on Decolonisation or C-24) approved the preliminary list of Territories to which the Declaration applied (A/5446/Rev.1, annex I), and which currently still appear on the C-24 programme, including 17 Non-Self-Governing Territories among which appear the Malvinas/Falkland Islands and the South Atlantic Islands attached to the colonial administration of Malvinas (South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands). The Member States that have or assume the responsibility to administer these territories are called administering powers, which means they do not exercise sovereign territorial rights of any kind over those territories, but merely administrative authority.

However, Argentina’s protests and claims had not achieved any significant favourable results beyond those indirectly referred to. But on 16 December 1965, perhaps the most valuable diplomatic triumph was achieved when UN General Assembly Resolution 2065 (XX) was adopted, recognising a sovereignty dispute concerning the Malvinas/Falkland archipelago and urging both countries to start negotiations to resolve the issue, safeguarding the “interests” of the inhabitants. Thus, not due to a voluntary British initiative—which for 133 years had dismissed every peaceful Argentine claim—but because the London authorities found themselves politically and diplomatically forced to react to the UN’s insistent Resolutions condemning Britain’s unsustainable colonial position, in January 1966 negotiations began between the British and Argentine delegations. But almost immediately, pressure from the British press, and the intervention of some lobbies—starting with the small Falkland Islands Company, followed by British oil companies, and internal British political matters—caused those negotiations (which had resulted in a Memorandum of Understanding signed in August 1968 suggesting the possibility of a sovereignty transfer based on recognition of Article 73 of the UN Charter) to falter. That article states that “Members of the United Nations which have or assume responsibilities for the administration of territories whose peoples have not yet attained a full measure of self-government recognise the principle that the interests of the inhabitants of these territories are paramount,” and further outlines the obligation to promote their well-being.

The Argentine authorities were very satisfied with this, as it aligned with Resolution 2065 (XX), which demands consideration of the interests of the islands’ population. However, the document was inherently contradictory, as the British government asserted the consent of the settlers as essential for any transfer of sovereignty—thus introducing the concept of self-determination for settlers on colonial territory, something unacceptable. In this sense, the British government created a dilemma: it had initiated sovereignty negotiations with Argentina while simultaneously promising the islanders that sovereignty would not be transferred—therefore the negotiations failed from the outset, as the UK violated UN resolutions regarding settler self-determination.

From 1968 onwards, essentially, the British placed themselves outside the law and all UN provisions for continuing negotiations, showing no genuine will to move forward but instead endlessly delaying their illegitimate colonial presence in Argentine South Atlantic territory. Around this time, the few advances achieved by Argentine authorities in the supposed negotiations with the British Labour government—if any real opportunity ever existed—were soon eclipsed when the Conservative Party came to power.

But that was not all.

The destroyer DD-547 USS Cowell of the US Navy, as previously noted, was refitted under the SCB 74A project (Ship Characteristics Board) in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

This Fletcher-class vessel, launched at the Bethlehem Steel Shipyard on 18 May 1943, was later commissioned into the Argentine Navy as D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (nicknamed "the Greyhound"), part of the 2nd Destroyer Division of the Argentine Sea Fleet. It formed part of the Almirante Brown class, alongside four other ships of the same type, and operated within the 2nd Division together with D-22 ARA Rosales and D-23 ARA Almirante Domecq García, during the final operational years of the Fletcher class in Argentine service.

Measuring 114.7 metres in length, 11.9 metres in beam, and with a draught of 4 metres, it had a displacement of 3,500 tonnes. Powered by two General Electric turbines and four Babcock & Wilcox boilers delivering 600,000 HP, it could reach a top speed of 35 knots, with an operational range of 11,112 kilometres at 15 knots. Its armament was formidable: four Mk-30 127/38 mm mounts, three twin 76.2 mm anti-aircraft mounts, and a complement of approximately 230 personnel.

The vessel was transferred to the Argentine Navy and formally received the Argentine national ensign on 10 December 1971. It served until 21 August 1979 and was sold for scrapping on 29 December 1981. Dismantling took place in 1982 in the town of Campana, Buenos Aires Province.

The single 127/38 mm Mk-30 gun mounts were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, originally equipped with an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder (replaced in the SCB 74A post-war variants used by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar), linked to a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by an Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm. These guns—mounted in five turrets on the original Fletcher-class destroyers but reduced to four following SCB 74A modernisation—had an elevation range of +85°/-15° and fired 127×680 mmR shells weighing 24 to 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute. Muzzle velocity was 790 m/s, with a maximum range of 16,000 metres in surface fire and 11,300 metres in anti-aircraft fire. The shells could penetrate up to 127 mm of belt armour at 3,700 metres, or 25 mm of deck armour at 12,600 metres. Barrel life averaged around 4,600 full-charge rounds.

At one point, the 2nd Destroyer Division was composed of the five SCB 74A-modernised Fletcher-class destroyers that served in the Argentine Navy as the Almirante Brown class:

• D-20 ARA Almirante Brown (ex-DD-532 USS Heermann), in service 1962–1979

• D-21 ARA Espora (ex-DD-670 USS Dortch), in service 1962–1979

• D-22 ARA Rosales (ex-DD-644 USS Stembel), in service 1962–1981

• D-23 ARA Almirante Domecq García (ex-DD-630 USS Braine), in service 1971–1982

• D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (ex-DD-547 USS Cowell), in service 1971–1979

These imposing vessels were eventually decommissioned to be replaced by six next-generation MEKO-140A16 corvettes under the naval plan designed by Admiral Massera. These represented the most advanced class of warship in the Argentine Navy during the 1970s and 1980s and were built at the Argentine AFNE shipyard. They remain, to this day, the primary component of the Argentine Sea Fleet. However, due to the complete lack of modernisation throughout their service lives—and the failure to replace them with more advanced warships—resulting from the controversial process of unilateral disarmament and dismantling of Argentina’s Armed Forces and Defence structure, initiated in 1983 and deepened in 2003, they have now lost nearly all combat capability. Without modernisation, they have effectively become simple offshore patrol vessels in the ongoing transformation of the Argentine Navy into a Naval National Guard or Coast Guard-style force, a process that is effectively leading to its eradication.

From Argentina, it was decided to adopt a posture that years later would be incredibly repeated to a great extent during the Menem administration, consisting of the inert “seduction” policy—something like taking the kelpers (as the British call the Malvinas/Falkland settlers, due to the kelp seaweed along the coasts of the archipelago—although today the settlers call themselves Falklanders, from Falkland Islands inhabitants) for fools—assuming they were idiots, which they obviously were not. Thus, and childishly seeking to soften the British position, Argentina opted for the curious strategy of freezing the sovereignty issue, in order to establish a communications agreement that would allow for a bond of trust and dialogue with the kelpers, always with the intention of reintroducing the sovereignty issue in the future.

Two single closed-base ring mounts Mk-30 of 127/38 mm (5-inch) calibre aboard the Fletcher-class destroyer DD-551 USS David W. Taylor, of the same type as those used to harass the RRS Shackleton on 4 February 1976 by the Fletcher-class Argentine Navy destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni.

The single Mk-30 127/38 mm gun mounts were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, originally equipped with an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder (replaced in the post-war SCB 74A variants used by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar). The system was connected to a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by an Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm.

On Fletcher-class destroyers, these guns were originally fitted in five turrets, reduced to four after SCB 74A modernisation. With an elevation range of +85°/-15°, they fired 127×680 mmR shells weighing 24 to 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute. Muzzle velocity was 790 m/s, with a maximum surface range of 16,000 metres and an anti-aircraft range of 11,300 metres. The shells could penetrate belt armour up to 127 mm thick at a distance of 3,700 metres, or deck armour up to 25 mm thick at 12,600 metres. The average barrel life was approximately 4,600 rounds at full charge.

In that way, in July 1971, the “Buenos Aires Joint Declaration” took place, establishing the framework of the agreement whereby Argentina committed to establish air and sea communications with the islands, provide health and educational assistance to the islanders, supply fuel at a differential price, offer postal, telephone, and telegraph services, and build an airstrip for commercial aircraft near Port Stanley.

Two sailors pose in front of the single Mk-30 127/38 mm gun mounts on the destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni. These guns were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, originally equipped with an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder (replaced in the post-war SCB 74A variants used by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar), linked to a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by an Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm.

On Fletcher-class destroyers, these guns were originally mounted in five turrets, reduced to four following SCB 74A modernisation. With an elevation range of +85°/-15°, they fired 127×680 mmR shells weighing between 24 and 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute. Muzzle velocity was 790 m/s, with a maximum range of 16,000 metres in surface fire and 11,300 metres in anti-aircraft fire. These shells could penetrate belt armour up to 127 mm thick at 3,700 metres, or deck armour up to 25 mm thick at 12,600 metres. The average barrel life was approximately 4,600 full-charge rounds.

The initiative benefited the settlers and represented no cost or concession on the British side, so there was no British objection to its signing or implementation. However, when in the following years Argentina attempted to bring up again the issue of sovereignty, including the claim over South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands, which the British had unilaterally and arbitrarily taken in the early 20th century—even though they were under Argentine possession (idem links)—and then linked them administratively and colonially as dependencies of the Falkland Islands, despite not being part of the Malvinas/Falkland group, Argentina initiated claims some years after Britain took possession, having only realised the takeover belatedly.

The British government then showed inflexibility, evading or delaying negotiations as much as possible, and flatly refusing to discuss the Argentine claim, considering it a completely separate matter about which there was nothing to negotiate.

Given the British intransigence and their own contradictions, which generated irreconcilable positions on the Malvinas/Falkland and other South Atlantic islands, it was no surprise that talks reached a deadlock by 1973.

Destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni photographed through the periscope of an Argentine submarine during a naval exercise in the 1970s.

The destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (nicknamed "the Greyhound") was part of the 2nd Destroyer Division of the Argentine Navy’s Sea Fleet. Formerly the US Navy's DD-547 USS Cowell, a Fletcher-class destroyer launched at the Bethlehem Steel Shipyard on 18 May 1943, it was later modernised under the SCB 74A programme (Ship Characteristics Board) in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

The ship measured 114.7 metres in length, 11.9 metres in beam, and had a draught of 4 metres, displacing 3,500 tonnes. It was capable of a maximum speed of 35 knots, powered by two General Electric turbines and four Babcock & Wilcox boilers delivering a total of 600,000 HP. It had a cruising range of 11,112 kilometres at 15 knots. Its armament included four Mk-30 127/38 mm mounts, three twin 76.2 mm anti-aircraft mounts, and a crew complement of approximately 230 personnel.

Transferred to the Argentine Navy, it was formally commissioned under the Argentine flag on 10 December 1971, serving until 21 August 1979. It was sold for scrapping on 29 December 1981, which took place in 1982 in the town of Campana, Buenos Aires Province.

The single 127/38 mm Mk-30 gun mounts were controlled by an Mk-37 fire control director, originally equipped with an Mk-12 fire control radar and an Mk-22 height finder—replaced in the SCB 74A post-war variants operated by Argentina with the Mk-25 circular radar. The system was linked to a Mark-1A fire control computer and stabilised by an Mk-6 gyroscope operating at 8,500 rpm.

Originally, Fletcher-class destroyers carried five such turrets, though this was reduced to four following SCB 74A modernisation. The guns had an elevation range of +85°/-15°, firing 127×680 mmR shells weighing 24 to 25 kg at a rate of 15 rounds per minute, with a muzzle velocity of 790 m/s. They had a maximum surface range of 16,000 metres and an anti-aircraft range of 11,300 metres. The shells could penetrate up to 127 mm of belt armour at 3,700 metres or 25 mm of deck armour at 12,600 metres. The average barrel life was approximately 4,600 rounds at full charge.

At one time, the 2nd Destroyer Division was composed of the five SCB 74A-modernised Fletcher-class destroyers that served in the Argentine Navy as the Almirante Brown class:

• D-20 ARA Almirante Brown (ex-DD-532 USS Heermann), in service 1962–1979

• D-21 ARA Espora (ex-DD-670 USS Dortch), in service 1962–1979

• D-22 ARA Rosales (ex-DD-644 USS Stembel), in service 1962–1981

• D-23 ARA Almirante Domecq García (ex-DD-630 USS Braine), in service 1971–1982

• D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (ex-DD-547 USS Cowell), in service 1971–1979

These formidable vessels were ultimately decommissioned and replaced by six new-generation MEKO-140A16 corvettes, part of the naval plan developed by Admiral Massera. These corvettes were the most advanced warships in the Argentine fleet during the 1970s and 1980s and were built at the AFNE shipyard in Argentina. They remain the core of the Argentine Navy’s Sea Fleet to this day.

However, due to a complete lack of modernisation throughout their operational lives, and the absence of more advanced replacements—as part of the controversial process of unilateral disarmament and dismantling of the Armed Forces and Defence infrastructure initiated in 1983 and deepened in 2003—these ships have now lost almost all of their combat capability. Without any updates, they have effectively been reduced to simple offshore patrol vessels, reflecting the transformation of the Argentine Navy into a Naval National Guard or Coast Guard-type force, a process that is effectively dismantling it.

But in early June 1974, Britain presented to the Argentine Government—then once again led by Lieutenant General Juan Domingo Perón, a long-standing and undisputed British ally—a proposal for joint administration of the islands through a “non-paper” (an unofficial document) aiming to put an end to the sovereignty dispute, proposing the madness of a “condominium”, a two-flag system for something that had never been British, seized by force, and which—unbelievably and unacceptably—was well received in Peronist circles.

Perón himself assured his Foreign Minister Alberto Vignes:

“It’s very convenient. We must accept it. Once we set foot in the Malvinas/Falkland, no one will remove us, and eventually we’ll have full sovereignty.”

But the plan dissolved with Perón’s sudden death on 1 July 1974, exposing just how convenient Perón had been for British interests—so much so that on the day of his death, in Port Stanley, the kelpers and British colonial authorities held a mass in his honour at the Catholic church in Port Stanley, attended by locals, British colonial officials, and some Argentine state employees stationed on the islands.

Thus, the apparent loss of trustworthy interlocutors for the British marked the end of the absurd condominium idea, since his successor, the new constitutional president María Estela Martínez de Perón (“Isabelita”), was an ultranationalist patriot, who—unlike her late husband—did not trust nor like the British (historical and notorious serial violators of treaties) and was not willing to share Argentina’s non-negotiable sovereignty.

From that moment on, Anglo-Argentine relations deteriorated, and tensions increased, stirred by provocations planned by the British political authorities, which in turn generated a social reaction in Argentina that was reflected in the media, with even some outlets suggesting an invasion.

Surprisingly, despite there never being any official hostile position from Argentina, Britain in early 1975 threatened Buenos Aires, stating that any Argentine military act would trigger a British military response.

The 1976 reaction

At the beginning of 1976, as a furious reaction to Argentina’s peaceful and just claims and the lack of Argentine reaction to the provocations stemming from British intransigence and hostility, a comprehensive study of the economy of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands was undertaken by Lord Shackleton, who visited more than 30 islands of the archipelago and even travelled to South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands aboard the Royal Navy polar ship HMS Endurance. This triggered the conflict by obtaining the armed response from Argentina that the British had long desired.

In March 1975, a new factor of strong interest emerged for the British Crown: the potential oil resources of the islands and their surrounding waters. Exploration had begun in 1969, culminating in a report titled “Geology of the Region around the Falkland Islands”, known as the Griffiths Report, commissioned by British oil companies and presented by a team from the University of Birmingham on behalf of the British government.

Coat of arms of the Fletcher-class destroyer, modernised to SCB-74A standard, known as the Almirante Brown class in the Argentine Navy — D-24 ARA Almirante Storni.

 

Ironically, the report contradicted the advice of the Foreign Office, which had recommended that the British government do nothing so as not to provoke Argentina. But as we shall see, London’s true intention was precisely the opposite: to provoke Argentina.

Thus, echoing these developments, on 19 March 1975, the Argentine government warned that it would not recognise the exploitation of natural resources in a territory under dispute, which it considered its own.

In July, the United Kingdom proposed that Argentina discuss the joint development of the South-west Atlantic. The Argentine Foreign Minister accepted the idea, but linked it to the transfer of sovereignty through a fixed-term lease, which included the immediate occupation of South Georgia and South Sandwich Islands with British acquiescence. Britain rejected the proposal, while Argentina refused any talks on economic cooperation that did not include the sovereignty issue.

On 16 October of that year, the British government announced the sending of an economic mission to the islands, headed by Lord Shackleton, and on 22 October, Argentina’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs declared that no official authorisation was granted to the mission. Days earlier, the Ministry had warned that such a mission would "introduce an unpleasant disturbance" in relations between both countries and jeopardise the peaceful resolution of the conflict.

Rescue and boarding launch of the Argentine Navy destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni. This craft was intended to be used to board the British vessel RRS Shackleton on 4 February 1976, after it was intercepted by the Argentine destroyer approximately 125.5 km south of Cape Pembroke, off the coast of the Falkland Islands. However, the British vessel chose to flee towards Port Stanley.

At no point did the commander of the Argentine destroyer intend to damage or sink the intruding vessel. Instead, the Storni limited its response to several warning shots and proceeded to escort—rather than pursue—the Shackleton, following it to within approximately 11 km of the entrance to the British colonial port located on territory unlawfully taken from Argentina.

On 8 November 1975, Argentina’s representative at the UN declared that negotiations were broken off due to the United Kingdom’s unilateral actions, and stated that Argentina would not cease to assert its rights over the islands. The UK, in turn, arbitrarily and grossly considered this statement a unilateral Argentine action.

Later, Argentine Foreign Minister Ángel Federico Robledo invited the United Kingdom to discuss the sovereignty issue, receiving a non-paper in response, informing him that Lord Shackleton would visit the islands on the basis of an invitation—to which Argentina responded with legislation regarding navigation authorisations in Argentine territorial waters.

Thus, despite the protests and warnings from Argentina, the British authorities confirmed the dispatch to the islands of a mission to gather information about the economic potential for the development of the colonial territory, headed by Edward Arthur Alexander Shackleton, Lord Shackleton, son of the renowned Irish Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton (1874–1922)—famous for the Discovery, Nimrod, and Imperial Trans-Antarctic expeditions. He had been knighted and was considered a hero in the United Kingdom for his feats during Antarctic explorations.

Lord Edward Shackleton was also vice-president of the FIC (Falkland Islands Company), and as such, one of the main stakeholders in maintaining the status quo.

The constitutional President of the Argentine Nation — María Estela Martínez de Perón — was the first woman in world history to serve as President of a country. She is pictured here alongside the Commander-in-Chief of the Argentine Navy, Admiral Emilio Eduardo Massera, who had been appointed to the position by then-President of Argentina, Lieutenant General Juan Domingo Perón, despite the fact that Massera had been among the naval officers involved in the Revolución Libertadora of 1955, which brought an end to the Peronist regime.

Unlike Perón, María Estela Martínez was firmly anti-British, an ultranationalist with strong patriotic convictions. Although she lacked political finesse in many aspects of governance, in others she proved more assertive than Perón — particularly in the fight against anti-Peronist communist guerrilla groups inspired by Castro and Guevara. She held an uncompromising stance on Argentina’s sovereign claims over the Malvinas (Falkland Islands) and South Atlantic territories, firmly opposing the United Kingdom’s intransigence on the matter.

Admiral Massera, for his part, was a highly capable naval officer and an outstanding commander — arguably one of the most prominent figures in the Argentine Navy since the 19th-century Generation of the 1880s. He played a key role in the defeat of the armed insurgency and was the architect of the most ambitious naval modernisation plan in Argentina’s history. His efforts brought the Argentine Navy to a high standard of naval warfare capability, including advancements in the country’s naval industrial base. Although the rearmament programme was never fully completed due to the shifting political climate after 1983, Massera’s strategic vision left a legacy that, in part, endures despite the progressive decline in the Navy’s combat capacity.

The naval operations carried out in early 1976 amid rising diplomatic tensions with the United Kingdom — culminating in the incident between ARA Almirante Storni and the British research vessel RRS Shackleton — were shaped largely by the willingness of these two Argentine figures to defend the national interest from the positions of authority they held. It was a time of national assertiveness and military resolve, the likes of which few political or military leaders in present-day Argentina would dare to repeat, even within an updated geopolitical context.

He arrived in Port Stanley aboard the Royal Navy polar vessel HMS Endurance on 3 January 1976—a politically inappropriate date and an obvious British provocation, as it marked the 143rd anniversary of the British invasion of the islands and the expulsion of Argentine authorities.

Argentina’s protest reached the OAS (Organisation of American States), which ruled against the British mission for “unilateral innovation”, thus obstructing bilateral negotiations, and in favour of Argentina’s sovereignty over the islands. Britain responded by rejecting the regional statement at the UN Decolonisation Committee, and continued the work of the so-called Shackleton Mission in the archipelago, clearly defying the OAS.

Meanwhile, the British scientific research ship RRS Shackleton (Royal Research Ship), weighing 1,082 tons, serving under the British Antarctic Survey, with 65.78 m length, 11.08 m beam, and 4.66 m draught, powered by a 6-cylinder MAN diesel engine producing 785 BHP at 275 RPM, with a reversible Kamena propeller, allowing it to reach a maximum speed of 9.7 knots, and a cruise speed of 7.8 knots, with an autonomy of 28 days, and accommodation for 31 crew members, had been launched on 11 November 1954 by Solvesborgs Varv A/B shipyard in Sölvesborg, Sweden, as MV Arendal (III) for operations in the Baltic Sea.

It was acquired by the Falkland Islands Dependency Survey (later BAS) in 1955 and named “Shackleton”. In 1968, it was renamed RRS Shackleton and modernised in 1971, serving in Antarctica and the South Atlantic from 1955 to 1992.

At 09:30 a.m. on Wednesday, 4 February 1976, it was sailing approximately 125.5 km south of Cape Pembroke, Port Stanley, capital of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, returning from geological prospecting in the surrounding waters—part of the Shackleton Mission’s activities—when it was intercepted by the destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni (nicknamed “the Greyhound”), of the 2nd Destroyer Division of the Sea Fleet of the Argentine Navy.

The ship was a former US Navy DD-547 USS Cowell of the Fletcher class, upgraded to SCB 74A standard (Ship Characteristics Board) in the late 1950s and early 1960s, with 114.7 m length, 11.9 m beam, 4 m draught, displacing 3,500 tons, with a top speed of 35 knots, powered by two General Electric turbines and four Babcock & Wilcox boilers, delivering 60,000 HP, and equipped with formidable weaponry centred on four Mk-30 127/38 mm gun mounts. It had been transferred to the Argentine Navy and on 10 December 1971, received the Argentine national flag.

Frigate Captain Ramón Arosa was the commanding officer of the destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni during the incident with the British scientific research vessel RRS Shackleton on 4 February 1976. He is seen here in a photograph from the 1980s, during the presidency of Raúl Ricardo Alfonsín, a left-wing Freemason affiliated with the Socialist International, who initiated a political and ideological vendetta against the Armed Forces and began the unilateral disarmament of the Armed and Security Forces, along with the dismantling of the national Defence and Security apparatus. By then, Arosa held the rank of Vice Admiral and was serving as Commander-in-Chief of the Argentine Navy.

Frigate Captain Ramón A. Arosa, commander of the Argentine destroyer, ordered the British vessel RRS Shackleton to stop its engines, with the intention of boarding and inspecting it, arguing that it was within the 200-nautical-mile limit corresponding to Argentine jurisdiction as per internationally recognised maritime law.

The captain of the British vessel requested instructions from the authorities of the archipelago, and thus, following orders from Neville French, then the colonial English governor of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, ignored the Argentine orders and continued sailing, as the governor had instructed him in a firm tone to disregard the directives issued by the Argentine destroyer and proceed with his navigation course toward the capital of the Malvinas/Falkland.

Upon seeing that the RRS Shackleton did not stop its engines, disobeying the order to halt, Frigate Captain Arosa ordered—following the **protocol of action for such cases—to fire warning shots across the bow of the British vessel, to compel it to desist from its disobedient conduct.

At the same time, from the air, a SP-2E/H Neptune reconnaissance aircraft of the Naval Exploration Squadron of the Naval Aviation Command of the Argentine Navy, which in previous days had been monitoring the British ship’s activities from long range, took visual contact with the Argentine destroyer's actions, conducting an overflight over both vessels en route to Port Stanley.

Despite the fact that the RRS Shackleton continued on its course in clear disobedience, and although the Argentine destroyer had sufficient speed to intercept the evading vessel and block its course to Port Stanley—and even had the firepower necessary to neutralise it with a single salvo from its Mk-30 127/38 mm guns—Captain Arosa decided not to fire further artillery rounds at the fleeing vessel.

However, a symbolic pursuit was initiated, which only ended at 11 kilometres (about 6 nautical miles) from Port Stanley.

At that point, sadly the ARA Almirante Storni turned back toward the continent.

The clear decision not to fire directly at the RRS Shackleton despite its disobedience, not to block its path to Port Stanley, or even not to enter Port Stanley's harbour, showed that Argentina had no intention whatsoever of causing any damage to the British vessel, nor escalating the incident, but rather to deliver a symbolic display of resolve and firmness, making it clear that the Argentine Republic would not accept British arbitrariness, nor remain passive in the face of a United Kingdom seeking to exploit natural resources in the Malvinas/Falkland area. 

In this way, a new climate of bilateral tension over the sovereignty issue emerged, which would remain constant in the years to follow—but always with an Argentine position as firm as it was also open to dialogue and negotiation, within the rules established by International Law, and under the framework of the international resolutions issued by the UN—in other words, doing legally everything that the British political authorities repeatedly violated.

The Aftermath

Protests and accusations from both sides followed quickly.

While the British submitted a formal complaint to the Argentine Foreign Ministry and to the UN Security Council, Argentina accused the United Kingdom of violating national maritime jurisdiction and of breaching the agreement not to “innovate” without mutual consent concerning the islands.

The British government sought to play the victim, portraying the incident as a dangerous aggression by an Argentine military vessel against a peaceful ship on a scientific survey mission, omitting any reference to the unilateral nature of its unconsulted actions, despite the agreements in place.

On the next day, 5 February 1976, in the House of Commons (the lower house of the British Parliament), during the 904th session, the incident was addressed among other urgent matters.

At the request of the Conservative MP Mr. Christopher Samuel Tugendhat, Baron Tugendhat, the then Minister of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, Labour’s Mr. Edward Rowlands, Baron Rowlands CBE, stated—with very little sincerity:

“At 12.30 GMT on 4 February, an Argentine destroyer, the Almirante Storni, fired shots across the bow of the Royal Research Ship Shackleton. The Argentine destroyer threatened to fire at the Shackleton's hull if it did not comply. Subsequently, the destroyer ordered the Shackleton to proceed to the port of Ushuaia, near Cape Horn. The Governor of the Falkland Islands instructed the captain to continue sailing to Port Stanley, which he did, arriving at 20:45 GMT.
The incident took place 78 miles south of Cape Pembroke as the Shackleton was returning from a period of scientific work in the South-west Atlantic as part of an international programme.”

But in truth, the RRS Shackleton was returning from a geological prospecting mission in search of oil, within the disputed area, thus violating all the UN Security Council resolutions and the Memorandum of Understanding signed with Argentina, even ignoring the logical, legal, and sovereign Argentine warnings urging the British to refrain from engaging in such unilateral actions, which endangered any chance of agreement.

The commander of the RRS Shackleton resisted the boarding by the Argentine Navy inspection team, and even more so, refused to proceed to the port of Ushuaia, as demanded by the Argentine naval authority—because doing so would have exposed the illegal activities carried out by the British Antarctic Survey mission prior to being intercepted by the Argentine destroyer.

The Argentine Navy's response to Soviet and Bulgarian intrusions on 21 September 1977 was just as forceful as its actions against the British on 4 February 1976. For the political authorities of the time, the defence of national sovereignty made no distinction between capitalist or Marxist aggressors, whether from the right or the left — the foremost priority was defending the Homeland.

On that occasion, seven Soviet vessels and two Bulgarian ships were seized by Argentine warships — a firm response that would have been unthinkable to allow what has been tolerated by Argentine political leadership over the past 15 years: fleets of 300 to 400 predatory fishing vessels plundering Argentine maritime resources and devastating the ecological balance of the South Atlantic.

In the case of the British vessel RRS Shackleton, due to ongoing diplomatic negotiations aimed at resolving the sovereignty dispute over the Falkland Islands, a degree of restraint was exercised — reflecting Argentina’s long-standing commitment to dialogue and peaceful resolution, consistently upheld since the 1833 British occupation. However, the warning issued on 4 February 1976 made clear — as history would show six years later — that Argentina’s patience was not unlimited.

(Photo: La Razón newspaper, Buenos Aires, 22 September 1977)

Although the level of conflict gradually diminished in the days that followed, it became clear that there were two clearly opposing positions, difficult to reconcile in order to achieve an atmosphere of understanding and regional calm.

Thus, the British discourse began to incorporate the problematic and illegal notion of "respecting the wishes of the islanders", in contrast to the Argentine position, backed by UN Resolution 2065 (XX), which refers to safeguarding the interests of the islanders. This difference would later become crucial in blocking any possibility of agreement in future negotiations.

From Argentina’s side, and in respect not only of its own claims but also of the UN provisions, the United Kingdom would not be recognised as having the authority to carry out economic development in the archipelago.

The British scientific oceanographic research vessel RRS (Royal Research Ship) Shackleton, a 1,082-ton ship operated by the British Antarctic Survey (BAS), measured 65.78 metres in length, 11.08 metres in beam, and had a draught of 4.66 metres. It was powered by a 6-cylinder MAN diesel engine producing a maximum of 785 BHP at 275 RPM, driving a Kamena controllable-pitch propeller that enabled a top speed of 9.7 knots and an average cruising speed of 7.8 knots. The vessel had an endurance of 28 days, with accommodation for a crew of 31 berths.

It was launched on 11 November 1954 by the Solvesborgs Varv A/B shipyard in Sölvesborg, Sweden, as MV Arendal (III) for operations in the Baltic Sea. It was acquired in 1955 by the Falkland Islands Dependency Survey (later the British Antarctic Survey), renamed Shackleton, and re-designated RRS Shackleton in 1968 following modernisation in 1971. It served extensively in the Antarctic and South Atlantic regions between 1955 and 1992.

On 4 February 1976, the vessel was sailing approximately 125.5 kilometres south of Cape Pembroke, Port Stanley — capital of the Falkland Islands — returning from survey work in surrounding waters as part of the "Shackleton Mission", when it was intercepted by the Argentine Navy destroyer D-24 ARA Almirante Storni of the 2nd Destroyer Division. The destroyer attempted to close in, but after the British vessel began to flee, the Storni fired several warning shots. It ultimately allowed the Shackleton to escape, escorting it nearly to the entrance of Port Stanley.

After its service with the British Antarctic Survey, the Shackleton was transferred to the Natural Environment Research Council (NERC) as an oceanographic research vessel, visiting Antarctica five more times before being retired from NERC service in 1983. That same year, it was renamed Geotek Beta, and in 1984, Profiler. It left South Atlantic operations in 1989 and was reconfigured as a high-resolution seismic and seabed survey vessel, operated by Gardline Shipping Limited. It was renamed Sea Profiler in 1992 and continued in service for many years. The vessel was scrapped in New Holland, on the Humber Estuary, in 2011.

At that moment, the United Kingdom was already engaged in the Third Cod War with Iceland, and tried to cool down the conflict with Argentina, although without changing its traditional resistance to addressing the core issue.

The foreign ministries of both countries pledged to restart dialogue, although the Foreign Office informed Argentine authorities that its government was prepared to defend the islands in the event of a hypothetical Argentine reoccupation.

Argentina insisted on addressing the heart of the matter. In the words of the new Argentine Foreign Minister Raúl Quijano:

“... the centre of our discussion is sovereignty...
We cannot move forward, and if the United Kingdom does not want to discuss this issue, then we cannot deal with the other matters. Of course, we are very interested in economic cooperation and communications, but without sovereignty, these are much more peripheral issues.”

The United Kingdom responded by sending to Port Stanley the frigate HMS Chichester, a Type 61 Salisbury-class vessel, launched in 1955, with a displacement of 2,400 tons and a length of 100 metres. Although it was more modern than the Brown-class destroyers like the ARA Almirante Storni, it was less powerful, with only a twin 114/45 mm Mk-6 turret, some light anti-aircraft weapons, and only a slight advantage in electronics.

Later, at the end of 1976, the Argentine Navy secretly landed a military party for scientific tasks on Southern Thule, in the South Sandwich Islands. This Argentine presence was detected by the Royal Navy’s polar vessel HMS Endurance, but considering the British stance towards these islands—which they knew did not belong to them either—the event was kept secret in London until May 1978, in order to avoid negative reactions from the press and political opposition.

Britain merely sent a quiet protest to Buenos Aires, although in fact it expected a stronger Argentine reaction, since the Argentine Armed Forces were already involved in contingency planning in case of British retaliation, including the possibility of invading the islands, though such actions did not occur at the time.

Despite these events, negotiations resumed openly in 1977 (after secret preparatory talks). However, the situation continued to deteriorate.

On 21 September 1977, Argentine FRAM-type destroyers seized 7 Soviet and 2 Bulgarian fishing vessels in disputed waters near the Malvinas/Falkland Islands. During the operation, one of the Bulgarian vessels was fired upon, and a crew member was injured. The seized ships were taken to Puerto Madryn, because at that time, no one dared to operate with fishing fleets of 300 vessels in Argentine waters, plundering resources without facing consequences—thereby showing that the intention with the RRS Shackleton was clearly never even to scratch its paint.

In addition, Argentina’s other major territorial claim, against Chile over the Beagle Channel, saw the failure of British arbitration, as by then it had become clear that Britain’s stance was biased, and it was no longer seen as a neutral party—despite having originally been accepted by both South American countries as arbitrator.

Thus, while Argentina was only just beginning to emerge from its long struggle against terrorism—which had begun when subversive groups, serving foreign powers (USSR, Czechoslovakia, and Cuba), began to attack Argentina irregularly and brutally from 1959 onwards—the nation now focused its attention on Chile.

The Type 61 Salisbury-class frigate F-59 HMS Chichester of the Royal Navy was deployed as the station ship at Port Stanley following the incident between the British research vessel RRS Shackleton and the Argentine destroyer ARA Almirante Storni on 4 February 1976.

This frigate was a Type 61 vessel of the Salisbury class, launched in 1955, with a displacement of 2,400 tonnes and a length of 100 metres. It was powered by eight ASR1 diesel engines delivering 12,400 shp to two shafts, allowing a maximum speed of 24 knots and an operational range of 13,900 kilometres at 16 knots. Although more modern than the Almirante Brown-class destroyers such as ARA Almirante Storni, it was less heavily armed, equipped with only a single twin Mk-6 114/45 mm gun mount, two twin Bofors Mk-2/5 40/60 mm light anti-aircraft mounts, and a single Squid anti-submarine mortar. It had only a slight edge in electronics but still required a large crew complement of 235 — excessive for its size and armament.

Nevertheless, and at the risk of escalating the situation, in response to the incident, British authorities in London also covertly deployed a nuclear-powered attack submarine to patrol the waters around the Falkland Islands. In addition, two more frigates were dispatched to support HMS Chichester, although they remained at sea some 1,600 kilometres from the islands. Officially, it is not known whether the Argentine Navy detected or tracked their presence — just as, on other occasions, British naval authorities did not register Argentine naval or naval air activity.

Nevertheless, and at the risk of triggering a dangerous situation, the United Kingdom also responded by secretly deploying a nuclear attack submarine to the waters near the Malvinas/Falkland Islands, and also sending two additional frigates to reinforce the HMS Chichester, although these remained stationed approximately 1,600 kilometres from the islands.

Rules of engagement were drafted, but Buenos Aires was not informed, and to this day, there is no official information confirming whether the Argentine Navy ever detected or recorded these British deployments.

What happened afterwards is well known. But by February 1976, it had already become clear that those who had done everything possible to prevent any negotiation to resolve the Malvinas/Falkland conflict from reaching a positive outcome were the British.

They did so by violating every international resolution, breaking all signed agreements, taking arbitrary and unilateral actions, provoking Argentina, disregarding international law, and all the while, without ever having been sovereign over the Malvinas/Falkland or the South Atlantic, they had already spent 143 years as invaders on the islands.