Argentine Naval Aviation: Snakeyes Against the Fleet

Details regarding bombing operations

When releasing up to six 500-pound bombs using a multiple ejector rack, we employed automatic release with a 200-millisecond interval between bombs. At a speed of 450 knots, this allowed the bombs fitted with retarded tails (Snakeye) to fall approximately 40 metres apart. Dropped at a 45-degree angle off the ship’s longitudinal axis, the probability of at least one bomb hitting the target—thus neutralising it—was very high.

We had shared these experiences with pilots of the Argentine Air Force who, at the time, had been training at the Espora Naval Air Base. Although our armaments differed, we strongly emphasised the need to avoid high-altitude approaches, as radar systems such as the Type 965 could detect them from 150 nautical miles away. This would increase the risk of interception by CAPs (Combat Air Patrols using Sea Harriers armed with AIM-9L Sidewinder missiles) or of engagement by Sea Dart missiles with a 30 NM range. Furthermore, early detection of an attack would allow ship-based anti-aircraft fire to be directed by radar, thereby making it far more accurate.

We also warned those same pilots that a bomb dropped in a dive bombing run was unlikely to achieve a hit, given the bomb’s time of flight and the ship's manoeuvrability at 30 knots in open sea.

The American MK-82 bomb from our stockpile, weighing 500 pounds and fitted with a retarded tail, could be dropped from low-level flight. Its fall was delayed relative to the aircraft due to the high-drag fins that deployed after release. This ensured that, upon detonation, the explosion did not affect the launching aircraft, which would have already moved ahead.

To ensure that bombs were armed after release, we tied the cables that activated the tail and nose fuzes directly to the aircraft’s bomb rack structure, rather than connecting them to the designated solenoids. The latter is the standard procedure, allowing for the bomb to be released either armed or, if necessary—by means of a cockpit switch—unarmed, by opening the solenoid and detaching the arming wire. As these solenoids could fail, we opted not to use them. This ensured the fuzes were always armed once the bomb was released, ready to detonate. In the event of an emergency, we would jettison the bombs into the sea, where they would explode.

During this period, we also conducted air interception exercises, guided by the radar systems of the aircraft carrier and its escort ships, targeting Argentine Air Force aircraft operating south of Comodoro Rivadavia that simulated attacks on the Fleet.

We disembarked at Puerto Belgrano Naval Base on 25 April, and over the following days, VLF Omega navigation systems were installed on two aircraft to improve navigational accuracy over the sea.

This had been a longstanding request in previous years, but the Navy's leadership had always found reasons not to implement it—just as our requests to fit 30 mm cannons to the A-4s, to increase firepower and reliability, had never been heeded. We also installed, as a test, OTPI equipment in two other aircraft. These are sonobuoy receivers, typically used for anti-submarine warfare by Tracker aircraft, allowing pilots to home in on the signals of sonobuoys deployed at sea. The goal was to enable aircraft to reach a sonobuoy deployed by a Tracker and, from that point, obtain bearing and distance to a target designated by the reconnaissance aircraft, which could not remain in the area due to limited endurance or the threat posed by the enemy.

—

Testimony of Navy Captain (Ret.) and Malvinas War Veteran Rodolfo Castro Fox, A-4Q Skyhawk pilot of the Argentine Navy's Third Fighter and Attack Squadron.

Malvinas: The Spanish Cartographer Who Discovered Them

Andrés de San Martín: the Spanish Cartographer Who Discovered the Malvinas 

Source




“He was the first to see them. And he drew them so they would never be forgotten.”

This text revives a story silenced for centuries: that of the first European to sight, describe, and chart the Malvinas Islands. He did so in 1520, in the name of the Crown of Castile, long before the British had even imagined their existence. That map, lost for centuries and rediscovered during the Malvinas War, changed forever the documentary foundation of Argentina’s claim.

Sometimes history falls asleep. It nestles among old papers, gathers the dust of archives, hides in a fold of parchment as if afraid to speak the truth. Then, on any given day, someone lifts a page, and the impossible takes form. That is how Andrés de San Martín was brought back to life — the nautical scholar who mapped the Malvinas when the world was still a riddle wrapped in salt.

Andrés de San Martín. Does the name ring a bell? Likely not. There’s no street named after him in the city centre, nor a school that bears his name. He is no textbook hero, no equestrian statue model. Yet this man, likely born in Seville towards the end of the 15th century and dead — whether from malaria or betrayal — on an unnamed Philippine island, was the first to put the Malvinas on a map. And not out of fancy, but with coordinates. With calculations. With his eyes fixed on the stars and a steady hand on the sextant. He was one of the most accurate astronomers of his age, capable of calculating geographical longitude with minimal error. A forgotten genius of cosmography.

San Martín joined Magellan’s expedition in 1519, a journey ordered by the Spanish crown to find a route to the Pacific and reach the Moluccas. Among the daring crew were the obstinate Portuguese Magellan and the quiet but precise Spaniard — Andrés de San Martín. His gift wasn’t with steel, but with the skies: he calculated eclipses, conjunctions, latitudes and longitudes.

He was the fleet’s chief pilot, astronomer, and cartographer — knowledge as valuable as the sword, until the mutiny at Puerto San Julián in April 1520. He was accused of sympathising with the mutineers, perhaps due to his professional ties with pilot Esteban Gómez, one of the ringleaders.

Esteban Gómez, a seasoned Portuguese pilot in Castilian service, was among those who rose up against Magellan. His association with San Martín — though never proven — was enough to make him a suspect. Magellan ordered his arrest and had him tortured by the strappado, a torment involving being hoisted by the arms tied behind the back. San Martín survived, but his health was irreparably damaged.

Later, during the stopover in Cebu (Philippines), he fell gravely ill and died in 1521, taking with him part of the expedition’s astronomical knowledge. Science, too, bleeds. And in this case, it also dies in silence.

While the Venetian chronicler Antonio Pigafetta meticulously recorded each day of the expedition, San Martín measured the world’s distances with an astronomer’s eyes. And so, in July 1520, as winter battered the Patagonian coast, the ship San Antonio — one of the five in the voyage — was sent south. It was captained by Álvaro de Mesquita, Magellan’s cousin. They sailed along the edge of the unknown, the sea writing names that had yet to be marked on charts. And on 28 July, they came upon an archipelago of cold and silence: the Malvinas. To them, they were the “Sansón” or “Islands of Giants.”

They landed on Isla Soledad, where birds circled like sentinels. There were no signs of human life — only cold land. With the precision of a watchmaker, San Martín pointed to the sky, measured and recorded: the first known map of the Malvinas, year 1520 — when Argentina had yet to forge its name. All this occurred within the jurisdiction recognised for the Crown of Castile by the Treaty of Tordesillas of 1494, reinforcing the historical and legal claim to the territory.

As in all imperial conquests, the map was lost. The Portuguese took it to Lisbon after San Martín’s death, along with his notebooks. Oblivion did its work. Over the centuries, the Malvinas slipped into a cartographic limbo: they appeared with distorted names, or as mere dots. But in the traces left by Diego Gutiérrez, Pedro Reinel and Diego Ribero, the echoes of that excursion endured. San Martín remained anonymous in the maps, waiting to be reclaimed.

Sixteenth-century cartography wasn’t an exact science, but it was a high art. Cosmographers like San Martín, the Reinel family, or Sebastián Caboto worked from astronomical observations, navigators’ accounts, and not a few myths. Maps combined fact and fiction, but one precise measurement could open a world. And San Martín delivered one. Without marine chronometers or theodolites, only with his astrolabe and tables, he recorded a part of the planet still shrouded in mist.

That call came in 1982, as the world watched the South Atlantic explode on their televisions. France brought to light the Atlas de San Julián, a manuscript dated 1586, long forgotten in the National Library of Paris. There, among the parchments, emerged the chart: “Les isles de Sansón ou des Geantz”, located precisely where the Malvinas lie today. This document, of incalculable value, confirmed not only the Spanish discovery but also predated John Strong’s British sighting by over 150 years.

Rocher Gervais, a French curator, sent the discovery to Uruguayan scholar Rolando Laguarda Trías. On 14 June 1983, Laguarda Trías presented his study in Montevideo, entitled “Spanish Ship Discovers the Malvinas Islands in 1520”, based on analysis of the manuscript with curator Mireille Pastoureau. He wrote: “there is not the slightest shadow of doubt that the map depicts the Malvinas Islands.” In September of that year, the study was formally entered into the library of Argentina’s National Academy of Geography.

Laguarda Trías returned to Paris in August 1987 and personally photographed the map, confirming that the chart was accompanied by a text by André Thevet, who described it after interviewing a Portuguese pilot (likely Mesquita) in Lisbon in the 1560s. Thevet reproduced the coordinates in his book Le Grand Insulaire, strengthening the authenticity of the Spanish discovery.

This discovery was no mere anecdote. It provided historical ammunition for Argentina’s claim to sovereignty. Laguarda Trías and other scholars considered it “a firmer foundation for Argentina’s rights, as heir to Spain’s.” And it was no minor point: in 1982, Argentina was at war over the islands, and this evidence represented a powerful documentary legitimacy. As Laguarda Trías himself stated: “The islands, now the subject of diplomatic dispute, were first charted by a Spaniard who knew the sky better than he knew the maps.”

Since then, this work has been validated by historians and academic institutions across South America. In 2015, the National Academy of Geography commemorated the event in its Annals, with a chapter reinforcing the scientific legitimacy of the Spanish discovery of the Malvinas. According to the legal principle of uti possidetis iuris, newly independent republics inherited the territories that had belonged to colonial crowns. Thus, upon the dissolution of the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata, the Malvinas would have automatically become part of the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata.

The 1520 map ceased to be an old curiosity and became a key piece in modern geopolitical history. It not only proved that San Martín had charted the islands with precision five centuries before any British settlement, but also that his records were preserved and circulated across the European Atlantic from the late 1500s. Against any English claim, this document remains irrefutable evidence: the Malvinas were discovered, observed, and mapped by a Spaniard — and this act predates all subsequent claims.

The 1982 discovery and Laguarda Trías’s research sparked debates in museums, universities, and diplomatic circles. Of course, there were critics — some questioned the document chain. But the majority of historians regarded it as “the most solid and rigorous documented effort to bring a forgotten discovery into the present.”

Today, Andrés de San Martín is no longer a shadow. He is a symbol that history is written in fine strokes, with compasses, latitudes, and longitudes. His 1520 cartography, rescued from silence in 1982, not only revives 16th-century scientific memory — it also stands as a mute, irrefutable witness to Argentina’s sovereignty over the Malvinas.

In a world that disputes maps with drones and international treaties, the figure of a man with a sextant reminds us that sovereignty is also written in ink, with patience and with truth. And that some gestures, like San Martín’s, take five centuries to receive justice. Perhaps, on a clear night above the cold southern seas, the shadow of that forgotten pilot still lingers in the stars — the man who once measured the world to stop others from stealing it.

Postscript: That a map forgotten in Paris for four centuries would become a key piece of a sovereignty claim says more about history than a thousand speeches. Because sometimes truth doesn’t shout — it waits. And those who know how to read an old parchment can see in it the roots of an entire nation. Today, his map does not speak only in libraries. It can — and must — speak in the international forums where the fate of peoples is debated.

Bibliography:

• Laguarda Trías, Rolando. Nave española descubre las Islas Malvinas en 1520. Montevideo, 1983.

• Thevet, André. Le Grand Insulaire. Manuscrito del siglo XVI.

• Academia Nacional de Geografía (Argentina). Anales y Boletines, ediciones de 1983 y 2015.

• Hervé, Roger (Rocher Gervais). Découverte des Îles Malouines en 1520, Biblioteca Nacional de Francia, 1982.

• Ramos, Lucio. Cartografía y poder en el Atlántico Sur. Editorial Dunken, 2010.

Malvinas: The Return

The Return

Morning of the 23rd of June — but not this year — rather, of 1982. The setting is Bahía Blanca Sud station.
That Wednesday, train 325 was due to arrive from Plaza Constitución. This service ran via Pringles, and the scheduled time of arrival was 9:04 a.m.

The station looked the same as always. The arrival of the train that day seemed like just another service, one of the regular trains that came into the station as usual.

Everything appeared normal up to that point — except for one small detail. At the rear of train 325 that day, a second-class coach had been coupled. Its 103 seats were reserved for a kind of passenger not often seen in those days. In that coach were the Malvinas War Veterans. That carriage was allocated exclusively to the soldiers who, by that time, were officially recognised as war veterans.

They were boarded onto that last coach, without the possibility of moving through the train, as the door connecting it to the rest of the formation had been locked. A small ham and cheese roll and a half-litre bottle of mineral water was the “ration” provided for the journey.

There was no welcoming committee. The city, with its typical scepticism, was unaware that the returning soldiers were arriving. Hardly anyone came to greet them. Just a few family members who had somehow found out — at that time, few homes had landlines, and of course, social media or WhatsApp didn’t exist.

There was no band to greet them upon arrival — our country is so obsessed with success that, for example, if the national football team loses a World Cup final, no one turns up to welcome them home. The same thing happened with the veterans. Not even their own families had fully realised they were coming back.

The train arrived on time. A long line of passenger coaches left the last one nearly aligned with the “Bahía Blanca” sign just south of the station, near the black bridge. A few fathers, who had learned of their sons’ return, approached the station almost timidly. They had spent over 70 days filled with uncertainty and anxiety. Worried faces searched through the train, hoping to find their sons and hold them tightly at last.

Inside the second-class coach, emotions ran high. The joy of returning was genuine, yet mixed with the pain for those who had not made it back. And to that was added the bitter fact that the war had been lost — this was by no means a joyful train. Tired faces, emaciated bodies showed signs of malnutrition, revealing the hunger they had endured during the conflict — despite efforts to convince the public that our soldiers had suffered neither hunger nor cold.

During their days at Campo de Mayo, the army had tried to feed the soldiers as much as possible so they would arrive “reasonably presentable.”

Behind them were long, sleepless nights. Naval, air, and finally ground bombardments had left them no rest. They had slept in makeshift tents or, when alerts demanded, in damp, cold foxholes. The thinness of their bodies reflected just how scarce the food had been.

They had bathed only once throughout the war, and only again when they boarded the ships back to the mainland. Left behind were those nights spent shivering — from the cold and, why not, from fear — with wet feet and the constant question of where the British would come from.

Behind them remained the sounds of war — sounds only known by those who had to live through them. The whistles of bombs, the wailing of sirens, the thunder of cannons, low-flying jets at terrifying speed, shouted orders during battle, and the gut-wrenching cries of the wounded… All of it was endured by young bodies, most of whom had not yet turned twenty.

"I stood on the carriage steps because I saw my dad and got ready to hug him. He was on the platform, looking past me, trying to find me. He didn’t recognise me — that’s how skinny I was." — Guillermo.
“We felt ashamed because we had lost the war, and that weighed heavily on us. We came back defeated.”

There were heartfelt embraces, tears, a few smiles, and a flood of emotion. Orders soon arrived to board the trucks bound for command headquarters. The veterans were taken in lorries to the Fifth Army Corps.

For them, a new reality was beginning. Almost without realising, they were entering something immensely complex: the return, the process of reintegration into working life. For our Veterans, a new life was starting. Bahía Blanca Sud station stood witness to that moment.

Without doubt — once again — THANK YOU FOR SO MUCH, AND SORRY FOR SO LITTLE.

Mount Longdon: The Real British Casualties Commented by the Bad Guys

Malvinas: The Actions of BIM 5 Obra Company

Account of a Naval Infantry Petty Officer – OBRA Company – BIM 5 Ec (Part 2)

Change of Mission

On 5 June, the company received orders from the Commander of BIM 5 Ec to occupy a Forward Combat Post in the Pony's Pass area. Commander Robacio had long requested that the High Command cover the approach to Port Stanley via the only road connecting Fitz Roy to the town. Without a response from his superiors, he ultimately decided to assign OBRA Company to this mission. This decision impacted the battalion during the Tumbledown engagement, as it lacked a reserve force for a swift counterattack.

We were to position ourselves in the Pony's Pass area. Initially, a reconnaissance was conducted, and the findings were reported to Commander Robacio. He realised that Pony's Pass was not ideal for a Forward Combat Post due to its small hillock surrounded by lagoons and semi-permanent watercourses, all easily fordable by foot troops. Consequently, Lieutenant Miño (of the Amphibious Engineers) was ordered to install a minefield ahead of the future positions, and Sub-Lieutenant Quiroga was instructed to move after reconnaissance and to bring the troops as late as possible, as we were certain the enemy was observing us, and the position needed to remain concealed.

During the night of 11 to 12 June, from OBRA Company's positions, we observed the battles for Mount Harriet. The marines watching the combat could do little, as the British attacks occurred beyond the range of their weapons, 2000 to 3000 metres away, except for an enemy unit attempting a rear assault on Harriet, which came within 800 to 1000 metres of OBRA's weapons.

Petty Officer Tejerina recounts: "On the night of 11 June, after intense naval and land artillery fire, between approximately 2200 and 2300 hours, the enemy launched an assault on the positions at Harriet with machine guns, rocket launchers, and artillery. British artillery fell immediately in front of the first assault line. We saw this clearly from our position, as the tracer rounds from the machine guns indicated the attackers' positions, and occasional flares lit up the area. It was a cold, clear night with a full moon that rose before the attack (21:25). The Company Commander continuously reported the situation to BIM 5 Ec Command. We were ordered to prepare for a potential counterattack. At 0100, combat intensified at the top of Harriet. By 0145, the fighting subsided, with only sporadic machine-gun fire heard. At that time, we recovered two conscripts from the RI 4 Service Section (Conscripts Ibañez and Vallejos), provided them with dry clothing, weapons, ammunition, and Charlie rations; they joined the Company and remained with us until the end of the fighting. Our artillery targeted the attackers; the fire was directed by TCIM Quiroga and GUIM Bianchi of the 1st Section of BIM 5 Ec stationed at William, even firing upon RI 4's own positions east of the mountain. Our commander continuously reported enemy troop movements in the Port Harriet area and their manoeuvre northward towards Mount Harriet. He was particularly concerned about an enemy unit moving northwest."

Petty Officer Tejerina continues: "At dawn on 12 June, enemy troops were seen assembling prisoners on the southern slope of Harriet, then marching them westward. Helicopters were also observed evacuating the wounded. For the rest of the day, we had to remain in our positions to avoid detection. At 1400, enemy artillery shelled our positions with timed ammunition for 30 minutes. (Note: Timed ammunition explodes before hitting the ground, causing a shower of shrapnel.) In this bombardment, a fragment slightly wounded Dragoneante Orlando Garcia, the Rifle Platoon Leader, in the back; he was treated by Second Corporal Medic Angelossi. Dragoneante Garcia refused to leave his position and be evacuated. At 1830, enemy artillery again shelled our area for 30 minutes. I was caught inspecting positions and had to make several dashes to reach the rocket launcher position. Accompanying me was Dragoneante Ariel Bustamante (rocket launcher loader); during one of the bursts, I was hit by the blast wave of a grenade and fell stunned into a water-filled hole, from which Dragoneante Bustamante rescued me instead of seeking cover; he had a habit of accompanying me on my rounds, even under fire."

On 13 June, we detected movements ahead of us, approximately a company of Welsh troops approaching. Artillery fire was requested but fell short; Lieutenant Quiroga made corrections, and then it hit the Welsh troops. We heard screams as they tried to retreat, but the artillery continued to inflict casualties. After a while, they were subjected to heavy fire until Lieutenant Quiroga suspended the fire due to the lack of standing enemy soldiers. I was impressed by the efficiency of the British medical personnel. They wore a type of short white poncho with a red cross on the back, tied at the waist. Some wounded had inflatable splints applied to their limbs, possibly to stop bleeding or fractures. The medics marked the location of the wounded, and then helicopters evacuated them.

Lieutenant Quiroga's Injury

Between 1815 and 1900 hours, while moving between positions, the Company Commander stepped into a hole approximately 20 centimetres in diameter and 50 centimetres deep while taking cover from a nearby grenade explosion, dislocating his ankle. The intense pain immobilised Lieutenant Quiroga, who was quickly attended to by SSIM Orosco and CSEN Angelossi. The latter bandaged Lieutenant Quiroga but suspected a fracture due to rapid swelling and advised him to seek further medical attention at the BIM 5 Ec Aid Post for proper treatment.

After evacuating Lieutenant Quiroga, command was assumed by Lieutenant Calmels. Fog began to form gradually. During twilight, via radio, Petty Officer Tejerina repeatedly instructed his men on the retreat procedure, which theoretically consisted of:

1. Movement: Withdrawal of Corporal Agüero's group (the most forward) through the bunker, then past the Company CP to a rear assembly point. There, the two groups would occupy positions to cover the retreat of the rest.

2. Movement: Withdrawal of the 1st Group.

3. Movement: Withdrawal of the 2nd Group.

Final Movement: Machine guns and 60 mm mortars.

Lieutenant Calmels assumed command around 2200 hours, about fifteen minutes before the attack began. The attack caught him by surprise; he was unaware of the exact situation of his Company. The night, the fog that had begun to lift, enemy fire, and conflicting reports from Group Leaders painted a grave picture; he knew the British were numerous, everywhere, and advancing almost openly, shouting. In reality, the enemy unexpectedly encountered OBRA positions, not anticipating resistance there due to the marines' effective concealment. However, for the Argentinians, the British appeared suddenly, as the fog and artillery noise prevented detection. Combat began when the enemy engaged Corporal Agüero's group, which, as mentioned, was slightly forward, practically on the road, 150 metres from the CP. It's evident that the enemy vanguard was moving along the road, as the group was attacked from the front and right flank (north), threatening its rear. From that moment, combat became generalised. The machine gun left by Corporal Alvarez to Corporal Agüero, previously moved to the northern flank, opened fire. Even from the Company CP, Lieutenant Calmels, Petty Officer Tejerina, Corporal Carrasco, and the Company Platoon Conscripts fired their rifles at the enemy to the north of the position. Grenade explosions were heard. The other two Rifle Groups (1 and 2) prepared for combat, but the British attack did not press on them, receiving only sporadic fire. At that time, it was snowing. The British advanced, supported by a high rate of machine-gun fire—about six or seven—clearly located by their tracer rounds. The enemy gained ground, nearly two companies against a reinforced section.

The Retreat

The retreat could not be executed as planned. In reality, Groups 1 and 2, along with Petty Officer Tejerina, moved towards the Quarry. When the retreat was ordered, the Group Leaders began the movement, but Agüero, who was to initiate it, reported he couldn't move. At that point, the Company Commander ordered his 60 mm mortars to fire on the White Points ahead of the 3rd Group. Some conscripts from this group were seen retreating, but Agüero no longer responded on the radio. By 2300 hours, with the movement underway, Groups 1 and 2 fought their way past the immediate depression behind them and then marched towards the Quarry. Subsequently, the Company Commander withdrew with the Company Platoon and mortar personnel. Petty Officer Orosco remained at the rear, covering the retreat with a machine gun. Briefly illuminated by three flares (two and one), they were forced to "hit the deck." In reality, the illumination was over William. The rest of the Company's retreat occurred in darkness. At 0100 hours, they reached the Quarry, where the Company regrouped. The Company Commander had a mission to fulfil as the Battalion Reserve and immediately marched north towards the Subunit's previous position near the BIM 5 Ec CP. Due to poor terrain information, Lieutenant Calmels expected to find Company RI 3 immediately east of the Quarry, but Captain EA Varela's Company was actually further northeast of William, leaving a gap between Sapper Hill and William.

We returned to our old positions south of the BIM 5 Ec CP. Around 0900 hours, Lieutenant Calmels received orders to retreat to Sapper Hill, where the Battalion was to concentrate for continued combat from that area. Once the Battalion regrouped at Sapper Hill, at 1115 hours, it received orders to retreat to the town. From that moment, the Company joined the rest of the Unit, packed their equipment, and entered Port Stanley. By 1430 hours, the Battalion was already assembled near the Naval Station, and at 1900 hours, OBRA Company, with the bulk of the Battalion, settled in the Naval Station's Carpentry, remaining there until the morning of 16 June when they received orders to move to the Concentration Camp being set up on the airport peninsula. Before entering the area, they had to pass through British control posts, where their weapons were finally confiscated.

Malvinas: A Tribute to the Heroes of BIM 5

Commander Carlos Robacio leads the 5th Marine Batallion 5 in Tumbledown

The 5th Marine Infantry Battalion from Río Grande stood alone against the onslaught of the Scots Guards at Mount Tumbledown, writing a glorious page in history.


 


During the 74 days of the Malvinas War, British forces were taken aback by the professionalism and fighting spirit of the Argentine troops. There is extensive British literature on the conflict, and all of it acknowledges the courage and resilience of our forces. One particular unit earned, from the British themselves, the nickname “Battalion from Hell” due to its valour and combat effectiveness. These men were the Marines of the 5th Marine Infantry Battalion (BIM 5).

On 7 April 1982, the personnel of BIM 5, based in Río Grande, arrived in the Malvinas under the command of Commander Carlos Robacio. The troops were deployed in the defensive system around Puerto Argentino, together with the Infantry Regiments RI 25 and RI 8. To reinforce the naval forces, Company C of RI 3 and Company B of RI 6 were also added. This integration of Army and Navy units was unprecedented and proved highly effective thanks to the professionalism and commitment of their officers.

From 1 May, the enemy began an aerial and naval bombardment campaign that severely affected the daily life of the Argentine soldiers. During the day, Harrier jets attacked the nearby airstrip and trench lines; at night, the Royal Navy carried out shelling. Despite this, the Marines maintained strong morale and continued to improve their defensive positions, preparing for the ground battle they knew was drawing near.

They endured 44 days of relentless siege. When fighting around Puerto Argentino began on 12 June, the marines of BIM 5 were ready to enter history. The British attack started at dusk and continued through the night. The first unpleasant surprise for the attackers was the presence of heavy machine gun nests equipped with infrared sights, which stalled their advance. Artillery exchanges followed, with the British enjoying an advantage thanks to their longer-range guns and greater mobility. Nevertheless, Argentine artillerymen fought with bravery and professionalism, firing until their last rounds, with barrels glowing red-hot.



On 13 June, the British launched their final offensive. They concentrated all their forces—paratroopers and Royal Marines—achieving a 3-to-1 numerical superiority over our Marines at the main breach. The artillery fire was intense, and naval artillery joined the barrage. Our own artillery, undeterred, responded at a rate of 1,000 rounds per hour, choosing to die on their feet rather than abandon their comrades.

In the late afternoon, the British attempted a flanking manoeuvre via Mount Harriet to distract the Argentine command. Robacio did not take the bait and instead set a deadly trap: he ambushed the enemy, pinning them between a minefield and artillery fire, while positioning Marines at their rear to block retreat. The outcome was heroic. The British were crushed by our artillery and infantry fire. Two hours later, the British company commander requested a ceasefire, citing the harrowing cries of the wounded as demoralising his troops. This ceasefire allowed the arrival of helicopters to evacuate the injured. No shots were fired at the helicopters, which were unarmed and clearly only conducting medical evacuation.

In the early hours of 14 June, the Scots Guards moved to the centre of the assault on Puerto Argentino. The firefight was intense. So many tracer rounds filled the sky that it seemed like daylight. In the final moments of the assault, the fighting became hand-to-hand. Argentine forces repelled the attack with fixed bayonets and requested artillery and mortar fire directly on their own positions, as the enemy had reached them. Second Lieutenant Silva and NCO Castillo called for a counterattack after being overrun. They left their positions and launched a bayonet charge until they were killed.

Commander Robacio personally led the counterattack, retaking lost positions and pushing the Scots Guards back to their original lines. By 3 a.m., amid a heavy snowfall, the Marines prepared another counteroffensive against the British paratroopers and requested authorisation as their forward units engaged the enemy. The order from Puerto Argentino was to withdraw, as it had become impossible to resupply 105 mm howitzers and mortars. Despite this setback, morale remained high, and it was difficult to convince the Marines to abandon their positions. With iron discipline, they withdrew from Mount Tumbledown and fell back.

A well-executed withdrawal under enemy pressure is one of the most difficult manoeuvres in military doctrine. History offers many examples of such withdrawals turning into deadly routs. But with pride, the Marines of BIM 5 took up new positions on the outskirts of Puerto Argentino, still determined to fight. Gurkha troops were dispatched to pursue the Argentines to make up for the Scots' poor performance, but they were halted and counterattacked—even though our men had run out of ammunition.

At dawn on Monday, 14 June 1982, BIM 5 had no ammunition left. In 36 hours, they had fired 17,000 artillery shells and all their mortar rounds. At 10 a.m., the ceasefire order came from Puerto Argentino. The battalion was still in combat formation. Commander Robacio requested confirmation of the order. His unit entered the capital of the islands in full marching formation, carrying all their personal weapons. Tragically, a section of the Navy Company that had been separated did not receive the order and at 12:30 engaged a landing of six British helicopters, shooting down two and suffering the loss of the last three Argentine soldiers in combat.

In military history, few units have endured 44 hours of bombardment without relief and then faced the enemy with such courage and determination. The Argentine forces at Tumbledown included 700 Marines and 200 soldiers, who confronted 3,000 of the best-trained troops of the British Armed Forces. Seventy-five per cent of our heroes were conscripts. BIM 5 suffered 30 killed and 105 wounded, inflicting an estimated 360 casualties on the enemy (a figure never officially recognised, though many British officers have acknowledged it privately).

How did they endure such hardship and fight with such determination? BIM 5 and RI 25 were the only units acclimatised to the Malvinas. They were well equipped, and their officers were professional and competent. They also shared a remarkable esprit de corps. As an example: on 14 June at 10:30, during the retreat to Sapper Hill, Commander Daniel Ponce collapsed from exhaustion. Amid gunfire, two conscripts rushed to carry him. Ponce ordered them to leave him and flee. Their reply: “Captain, if we die, we die together.” They lifted him and withdrew. That was the spirit of the marines of BIM 5, who gave everything for their country.

Argentine Navy: ARA Hércules (D-28 / D-1 / B-52)

ARA Hércules (D-28 / D-1 / B-52)

ARA Hércules (D-28) was the only air-defence vessel operating in the South Atlantic Theatre of Operations (TOA). Equipped with four Exocet missiles and twenty-two Sea Dart surface-to-air missiles — which also had a secondary anti-ship capability — under ideal conditions, it alone could potentially have neutralised the entire Chilean Squadron.

The fast transport ship ARA Hércules (B-52) (TRHE) was a multipurpose rapid transport vessel of the Argentine Navy. It was built in the 1970s as a Type 42 destroyer and, following a refit in the 1990s, was reclassified as a fast transport. It was officially decommissioned and the national ensign was finally lowered on 20 June 2024, after 48 years of service.

Armed with Sea Dart surface-to-air missiles, its mission — along with its sister ship, the destroyer ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2) — was to provide area air-defence for the light aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo (V-2), operating via data link.

Flag
History
Shipyard	Vickers Shipbuilding, Barrow-in-Furness, UK
Class	Type 42
Type	Guided-Missile Destroyer
Operator	Argentine Navy
Authorized	May 18th, 1970
Keel Laying	June, 7th 1973
Launched	May 10th, 1976, Barrow
Commissioned	June 1976 (Affirmation of the Argentine Ensign) July 1977 (incorporated to the Sea Fleet)
Decommissioned	March 22, 2024 (decommissioned)​ June 20, 2024 (Final lowering of the ensign)
Faith	Decommissioned, she is moored at Puerto Belgrano
General Specifications
Displacement	4100 tonnes at full load
Length	125,6 m
Beam	14,3 m
Draught	5,8 m
Armament	1 twin launcher for 22 GWS-30 Sea Dart Mk30 surface-to-air missiles 1 Vickers 115 mm (4.5")/55 Mk 8 automatic naval gun 2 Oerlikon 20 mm Mk 7 machine guns 4 MM-38 Exocet (SSM) missile launchers 2 triple 324 mm ILAS 3 torpedo tube launchers (firing Whitehead AS-244 torpedoes: 6 km range at 30 knots)
Propulsion	COGOG (Combined Gas or Gas) 2 Rolls-Royce Olympus TM38 gas turbines 2 Rolls-Royce Tyne RM1A gas turbines 2 propeller shafts
Powerplant	• Olympus TM38: 50 000 HP • Tyne RM1A: 9900 HP
Velocidad	• 30 knots  (Olympus) • 18 knots (Tyne)
Endurance	4500 nautical miles at 18 knots
Crew	166
Troops	238 full-geared marines
Aircraft	2 Sikorsky SH-3 Sea King helicopters
Aircraft facilites	Hangar

History

The vessel was originally built as a Type 42 destroyer, similar to the units of the same class commissioned by the British Royal Navy. It was constructed at the Vickers Shipbuilding yard in Barrow-in-Furness, United Kingdom, concurrently with the HMS Sheffield, the lead ship of the British series, which was sunk during the Malvinas War.

Following an irreparable fire that destroyed the stern of HMS Sheffield, a complete stern section from ARA Hércules was used in the British vessel. As a result, the Vickers 4.5" (115 mm)/55 Mk 8 automatic naval gun mounted on the British ship originally belonged to the Argentine destroyer.



F

The vessel was built as a Type 42 destroyer, similar to those commissioned by the British Royal Navy. It was constructed at the Vickers Shipbuilding yards in Barrow-in-Furness, United Kingdom, concurrently with HMS Sheffield, the lead ship of the British class, which was later sunk during the Falklands War. After an irreparable fire destroyed the stern of HMS Sheffield, a full stern section from ARA Hércules was used to repair her. As a result, the Vickers 4.5" (115 mm)/55 Mk 8 automatic gun mounted on the British ship originally belonged to the Argentine vessel.

She was delivered to the Argentine Navy and entered service on 19 September 1977. Upon commissioning, she was assigned to the 1st Destroyer Division as the guided missile destroyer ARA Hércules (D-28), DEHE, with Puerto Belgrano Naval Base as her home port. When her sister ship ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2) joined the fleet, Hércules was redesignated as D-1, under which she operated until her conversion into a fast transport.

Several Argentine Navy ships have carried the name “Hércules”, but the most iconic remains the flagship of Admiral Guillermo Brown during the wars of independence — the famous “Black Frigate”, so named for her dark sails. The legacy of the name Hércules lives on today through this troop transport vessel.

Beagle Conflict

In December 1978, as part of Operation Soberanía, ARA Hércules formed part of Task Group 2 alongside the aircraft carrier ARA Veinticinco de Mayo (V-2), with the mission to militarily occupy Lennox, Nueva and Picton Islands and Cape Horn, then in dispute with Chile. The operation was ultimately not carried out, and the Argentine Fleet began its withdrawal to Puerto Belgrano.


Malvinas War

In 1982, together with her sister ship ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2), ARA Hércules took part in escorting ARA Veinticinco de Mayo during the Malvinas War. She participated in the initial landings to recover the islands, and her embarked helicopter operated for several hours at Puerto Argentino Airport.

In early May, the Argentine Task Force anticipated a naval air engagement with the British Royal Navy’s Task Force. At one point, Hércules’ early warning radar detected a Sea Harrier from HMS Invincible being vectored to intercept a Grumman S-2 Tracker launched from Veinticinco de Mayo, which was attempting to locate the British fleet for a coordinated strike. However, favourable conditions for such an attack never materialised, and the Argentine ships withdrew to shallower waters, beyond the threat range of British nuclear submarines. Hércules continued operating in coastal patrol zones near the Argentine mainland.

Post-war

Following her service in the 1st Destroyer Division and later her reassignment to the Amphibious Naval Command, ARA Hércules regularly participated in naval exercises — known as “Etapas de Mar” — alongside other vessels of the Sea Fleet, the Maritime Patrol Division, the Submarine Force, as well as aircraft and helicopters of Naval Aviation, and in amphibious exercises with the Marine Corps. She also took part in joint naval operations with foreign forces.

In 1988, she visited the port of Buenos Aires along with most ships of the Sea Fleet, including her sister ship D-2.

In 1993, she carried out her final live-fire exercise with a GWS-30 Sea Dart missile. From that point, she began operating with spare parts salvaged from ARA Santísima Trinidad (D-2), which had been inactive since 1989 and was progressively cannibalised.

In 1994, she was transferred to the Amphibious and Logistics Naval Command (COAL), and by 1999, she underwent a major conversion into a fast transport vessel, with substantial modifications to her flight deck and helicopter hangar to accommodate two Sea King medium helicopters. These works were carried out at the Chilean Navy’s ASMAR shipyard in Talcahuano, with final completion between 2004 and 2006 at the Puerto Belgrano Naval Arsenal in Argentina.

In 2009, her Sea Dart missile launcher was removed, and the space was converted to house four MKV assault boats for the Argentine Marine Corps.

Among her deployments, she took part in the 1998 edition of the combined exercise “UNITAS”, and the amphibious phase of Exercise “Fraterno” in 2006. As a troop transport unit, she continues to participate in amphibious operations and all phases of fleet manoeuvres. In 2009, she underwent a major overhaul at CINAR (Argentine Naval Industrial Complex), rejoining the fleet in April of that year after maintenance of her hull, valves, and systems. That same year, she participated in a maritime control patrol and the search for survivors of the fishing vessel Atlantic, lost during a storm.

Between 2004 and 2012, she took part in all amphibious training exercises of the Sea Fleet, including the “Inalaf” exercises with embarked Marine Corps personnel from the Chilean Navy. During the same period, she also hosted training voyages for cadets of the Argentine Naval Academy (ESNM) along the national coastline, visiting ports such as Ushuaia and Puerto Madryn.

2010s

The vessel continued its annual live-fire training, amphibious exercises, and fleet manoeuvres, as well as port visits along the Argentine coast (such as Necochea) and training cruises with cadets from the Naval Academy and midshipmen from the Petty Officers’ School of the Navy.

Conversion

The ship underwent an initial conversion process in Chile (at ASMAR, the Chilean Navy’s shipyard) and later in Argentina (at the Puerto Belgrano Naval Base, ARPB) during the late 1990s. Modifications included an expanded flight deck and hangar to accommodate and operate two Sea King helicopters armed with Exocet AM39 missiles, and an upgrade of its electronic systems, with INVAP, Argentina’s state technology company, contributing to additional systems reengineering.

Subsequently assigned to the Amphibious Naval Command, the ship began operating as a multipurpose fast transport under its new permanent designation: B-52. Its redesign allowed it to function as a fast troop landing ship. Interior spaces were converted into troop berths for embarked Marine Corps (IM) personnel.

The two radar domes (Type 909) and the Sea Dart missile launcher on the foredeck were removed. The vessel is equipped with a fully Argentine-developed Automated Command and Control System (SITACC), implemented through the SIAG-2006 platform. These upgrades also allowed the integration of a Combat Information Centre (CIC) for the KFD General Staff when embarked, and the installation of eight external mountings for safely securing MK V assault boats used by the Marine Corps.

The hangar doors were once again overhauled and modified by INVAP, and currently operate without major issues. For surface-to-air defence, RBS-70 missiles are deployed on an elevated aft platform with internal communications, where they are mounted during training voyages that include live-fire exercises.

Decommissioning

The vessel had been held in reserve status since 2013. It was officially decommissioned on 22 March 2024, and the final lowering of the ensign took place at Puerto Belgrano on 20 June 2024. The ship now awaits its final disposition.

Specifications

Original

Engines

• 2 Olympus TM38 gas turbines, 50,000 HP

• 2 Tyne RM1A gas turbines, 9,900 HP

• 2 propellers

Colours

• Hull and superstructure, including launchers, domes, lower mast sections, flight deck, and other surfaces painted in matte Admiralty grey

• Underwater hull (anti-fouling) in red anti-rust coating

• Waterline, mast tops, and funnel in matte black

• Flight deck marked with a white circle and white identification number with black shadow

General Characteristics

• Sister ship of the HMS Sheffield, which was destroyed and sunk at 53°04′S 56°56′W

• Standard displacement: 3,150 tonnes

• Full load displacement: 4,100 tonnes

• Length between perpendiculars: 119.50 metres

• Beam: 14.63 metres

• Maximum draught: 6.8 metres
  
  

Propulsion system

• COGOG configuration:

  • 2 Rolls-Royce Olympus MM3B gas turbines delivering 54,900 HP for maximum speed

  • 2 Rolls-Royce Tyne gas turbines providing 8,200 HP for cruising speed

Crew

• Between 300 and 312 personnel

Additions from the Conversion

The cantilevered flight deck and stern openings allow for the rapid deployment or recovery of inflatable boats ("Zodiacs") used by special forces. The ship is capable of carrying 238 fully equipped marines without any reduction in her maximum speed of 30 knots.

INVAP redesigned the hangar door system as well as made certain modifications to the stern section of the vessel. The door is operated both electromechanically and manually, with a minimum opening width on each side of 6.2 metres and a height clearance of 5.4 metres. It is weatherproof and blocks exterior light radiation. The minimum opening/closing speed is 10 cm/s, and the maximum manual opening time is 5 minutes, under conditions of rolling, pitching, permanent list, and extreme wind pressure (with lateral inclination up to 30° and frontal inclination up to 10°, simultaneously).

The ship also features expanded accommodation capacity to transport a reinforced Marine Infantry Company, a dedicated operations room for the embarked Marine General Staff, and two fully equipped classrooms.

Its two 909 radomes and the Sea Dart missile launcher were removed. The deck has since been fitted with metal racks and electric winches for transporting MK-V landing craft, as well as a cargo hold for storing equipment.

Electronics

Navigation

• 2 GPS systems, integrated with the digital chart system and providing cartographic display both on the bridge and in the Combat Information Centre (CIC) via LCD screens

• 1 digital log

• 1 echo sounder

• 3 VHF radio units for maritime safety

Command and Advisory System

• Command and Advisory System – SITAC 2006

• Integrated consoles with visual interface

• Designed and installed domestically by SIAG – Puerto Belgrano (2006)

Communications

• HF - UHF y VHF (Low Band) Equipment
• Datalink- LINK ARA.

Radars

• Long-range Air Search - Marconi 965 (IFF).
• Surface Search - Marconi 992.
• Kelvin Hughes 1006 Helicopter Control.
• DECCA 1229 Navigation.

 

 

Malvinas: The use of cluster bomb by the British forces

The Myth of British Illegality in the Use of Hunting Engineering BL755 Cluster Bombs

During the 1982 Malvinas War, the British invading forces made use of the Hunting Engineering BL755 cluster bomb—a weapon not equipped with anti-personnel charges, but with shaped charges intended to destroy material targets. As such, its use was permitted under international law. Any cluster bomb designed to destroy enemy hardware—be it aircraft, tanks or ships—can be lawfully employed, and continues to be used by many militaries without violating any existing international conventions.

In contrast, cluster munitions such as the French-made Belouga BLG-66 from MATRA, designed to disperse shrapnel specifically to injure or kill human beings, are clearly prohibited. Such bombs were not used by the British in the Malvinas theatre.

That a blast-fragmentation anti-materiel bomb may wound or kill personnel as collateral damage does not make it an anti-personnel weapon per se. This distinction is crucial. Dum-dum bullets or Claymore-type mines—favoured tools of extremist Castro-Guevarist factions that waged genocidal campaigns against Argentina between 1959 and 1990—are examples of explicitly anti-personnel munitions.

The BL755, produced in the United Kingdom, was originally conceived as an anti-tank cluster bomb to counter the overwhelming numerical advantage of Warsaw Pact armoured units over NATO. It contains 147 high-explosive anti-tank (HEAT) submunitions, each housed in a pre-fragmented casing that releases approximately 1,400 shards upon detonation. Naturally, these can cause harm to any individual within their effective radius—but that does not qualify them as illegal anti-personnel weapons. For comparison, a single Belouga can release over 200,000 lethal fragments.

To be clear: the use of a BL755 bomb, dispersing 147 submunitions that may each produce around 1,400 fragments, aimed at disabling enemy material across a broad zone of impact, cannot reasonably be equated with a weapon designed solely to maim or kill personnel. The intent and design of the weapon matter under international law.

Yet, ironically, Argentina did possess such anti-personnel cluster bombs in its arsenal—specifically the Belouga BLG-66, supplied by France and seen post-war mounted on aircraft such as the A-4C and Alpha Jet. These were acquired alongside Mirage IIIEA/DA fighters, originally for air superiority roles. The Belougas were tested and operational across several Argentine aircraft, including the A-4B/C and the Super Étendard. There is no confirmed information on whether they were adapted for use in the IA-58A Pucará or the Navy’s A-4Q. Still, Argentine commanders chose not to employ these weapons during the conflict.

In fact, even though Argentine forces had access to incendiary Napalm bombs—deployed on the Malvinas themselves—these too were not used against enemy troops, despite their obvious anti-personnel effects.

For Argentine soldiers subjected to these British weapons, the legality or ethics of their use were of little concern in the moment. A single fragment could wound, mutilate, or kill—but those same soldiers would have employed such weapons without hesitation had it meant surviving or gaining an upper hand. And still, despite possessing bombs with greater destructive power than those used by the British, Argentina chose restraint—out of adherence to the laws of war and a deeply human sense of morality, even in the inhuman context of battle.

Some claim Britain crossed into illegality—not due to the raw power of its bombs, but in the tactical method of their use. The sheer lethality of 147 submunitions and over 200,000 potential fragments raining down on an Argentine infantry company is known only to those who lived it. But the difference between that and a Belouga’s 198,600 extra fragments—a 1,430% increase in destructive capability—puts the argument of proportionality into sharp perspective.

It’s also true that no formal declaration of war was ever issued by either side. The conflict unfolded in fact, not in law, with both nations operating in murky legal waters. Nonetheless, both Argentina and the UK largely respected the humanitarian norms of armed engagement, barring isolated abuses triggered by the brutal chaos of close combat.

Had this been a total war—like the Second World War, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf, or Yugoslavia—different thresholds of legitimacy and restraint would likely have applied to both sides.

The Hunting Engineering BL755, developed in the early 1970s with a standard weight of 264 kg, a length of 2.45 m, and a diameter of 419 mm, was manufactured in several variants (BL755, IBL755, RBL755). Beyond the Malvinas, it was also used in the Gulf War and the conflict in the former Yugoslavia by Britain and Germany (now withdrawn from service), and reportedly by Iran, Serbia (possibly reverse-engineered), and India—still in service today on aircraft such as the MiG-27, Jaguar, Sea Harrier, and possibly the MiG-29, HAL Tejas, and Su-30.

To Argentine Malvinas War Veterans, the BL755 remains a haunting symbol of destruction. Though no longer in production, its legacy is etched into the memories of those who faced it. And it remains a testament to the resilience, sacrifice, and moral clarity of Argentine forces, who fought with dignity—even as shadows fell over the South Atlantic skies.

Malvinas: Aerolíneas Argentinas' Secret Cargo Operations

Did You Know This Story?

43 years ago, Aerolíneas Argentinas flew covert missions to bring weapons home for the Malvinas War.

Their pilots and cabin crews accumulated acts of courage and solidarity that continue to make Argentines proud across generations. In 1982, seven of them undertook a daring secret operation to Israel, Libya, and South Africa to retrieve weapons that would later be used in the defence of our sovereignty during the Malvinas conflict.

As the war unfolded, they flew to the islands, to Río Gallegos, and to Comodoro Rivadavia—transporting soldiers, supplies, and equipment, without fanfare, but with a fierce commitment to their country.

For years, this story circulated in whispers and half-truths. But in 2012, the veil was lifted. The seven pilots—Gezio Bresciani, Ramón Arce, Leopoldo Arias, Juan Carlos Ardalla, Jorge Prelooker, Mario Bernard, and Luis Cuniberti—broke their silence and recounted the clandestine flights to the Middle East in what came to be known as Operación Aerolíneas.

The Boeing 707s flew a total of six missions: two to Israel and four to Libya. Every single one of them was carried out in radio silence, with all navigational lights switched off. "The aircraft couldn’t be a trail in the sky—it had to be a ghost," one of the pilots recalled.

When entering radar zones was unavoidable, they gave false positions. At the time, NATO satellites and the Western intelligence networks swept across the Atlantic with a ruthless gaze. For the British, the entire ocean was a theatre of war—any unidentified or suspicious aircraft was at risk of being intercepted or shot down.

After 2 April, an order came down from the top brass at the Edificio Cóndor: civilian aircraft and their crews were to serve the Armed Forces’ High Command. Pilots were summoned one by one, told only that their country needed them—and they answered without hesitation.



“When someone tells you your country is at war, and that you can help—well, you don’t think twice,”
said Bresciani in 2012, then 71, recalling the string of secret missions to distant lands in search of arms.

This chapter in our history—bold, silent, and patriotic—is a reminder that Argentines have always stood ready to defend their homeland, not just with weapons, but with resolve, unity, and honour in the skies.

Malvinas: A Struggle for Sovereignty and Dignity

The Malvinas War: Forty Years On—A Struggle for Sovereignty and Dignity

By Manuel Remira Oyón| Reflections | 14 May 2025

Preface

As a Chilean, writing about the Malvinas War is no small undertaking, especially given the historical tensions between Chile and Argentina. In April 1982, when Argentina reclaimed the Malvinas Islands—territory unquestionably part of its continental shelf and its sovereign rights—Chile’s military regime under Pinochet chose the wrong side of history, aligning itself with Britain and providing covert support to the colonial power. This shameful episode underscored the deep divisions sowed by dictatorship and the betrayal of Latin American unity in the face of imperialism.

It must be clear: the complicity of Pinochet’s regime in undermining Argentina’s rightful claim does not reflect the will of the Chilean people, who have long harboured a sense of solidarity with their Argentine brothers and sisters in their quest to end the last vestiges of colonial rule in our region.

A Fight Rooted in Principle

The Malvinas War was not a random clash, nor was it a folly of the moment. It was the culmination of nearly 150 years of Argentina’s steadfast insistence on the return of territory that had been seized by force. The Malvinas were recognised as part of Spanish South America, and after Argentina’s independence, as part of its national territory. Britain's occupation in 1833 was a flagrant act of imperial aggression, displacing Argentine settlers and establishing an outpost that has remained, to this day, a colonial relic.

This was not a marginal grievance. The Malvinas became a symbol of Argentina’s ongoing struggle for sovereignty and self-determination—a cause enshrined in international law and recognised by numerous United Nations resolutions calling for dialogue and resolution between the two parties. The islands’ strategic location in the South Atlantic and their proximity to Antarctica have always been of immense geopolitical significance, a fact long obscured by those who dismiss the conflict as over “barren rocks.”

The injustice of colonial occupation weighed heavily on the Argentine people, who, regardless of the shifting sands of political leadership, never relinquished their claim. The 1982 conflict, therefore, was not merely a military manoeuvre but the physical manifestation of a centuries-old demand for justice.

The Dictatorship’s Double Crime

It is undeniable that Argentina’s military dictatorship was a brutal regime, responsible for grave human rights violations. But the Malvinas cause stands apart from the crimes of the junta. The junta’s opportunistic timing—seizing on a noble cause to shore up its crumbling legitimacy—should never be confused with the righteousness of Argentina’s claim. If anything, the dictatorship’s mishandling of the conflict and its betrayal of the soldiers it sent to war only deepened Argentina’s national trauma.

Thousands of young conscripts, many from impoverished provinces in northern Argentina, were sent ill-prepared and under-equipped into battle. These were not seasoned soldiers; they were boys thrust into the freezing winds of the South Atlantic, bearing the weight of their nation’s hopes and the burden of their leaders’ incompetence. Their courage, in the face of overwhelming odds, was nothing short of heroic.

The British forces, equipped with superior technology and backed by one of the world’s most powerful navies, faced fierce resistance. The Argentine Air Force, despite limited resources, mounted daring attacks that resulted in significant British losses—ships sunk, aircraft destroyed, and lives lost. These victories on the battlefield were a testament to the valour and resilience of Argentine forces, who fought not for conquest but for liberation.

A War That Echoed Far Beyond the Battlefield

The consequences of the Malvinas War extended well beyond its 74 days of combat. For Argentina, the war precipitated the fall of the dictatorship and the return to democracy—a profound transformation that reshaped the nation’s trajectory. For Britain, it reinvigorated a government facing domestic unpopularity, entrenching policies of neoliberal austerity that would have lasting repercussions.

Yet the most enduring legacy is the wound that remains open: the unresolved sovereignty dispute. Decades on, the British government continues to maintain its colonial hold over the Malvinas, defying international calls for negotiation and dialogue. The islanders' right to self-determination, often cited by London, must be understood within the context of a population settled by the colonial power itself, a factor that complicates but does not nullify Argentina’s legitimate claim.

Honouring the Fallen and the Forgotten

The soldiers who returned from the Malvinas—victims of both war and neglect—were met not with the honour they deserved, but with silence and marginalisation. Many have since succumbed to the invisible wounds of war, their struggles largely ignored by successive governments. It is estimated that hundreds of veterans have taken their own lives, a silent testament to the deep scars left by the conflict.

The sacrifice of these men demands remembrance, not only as a chapter in Argentina’s history but as a reminder of the broader fight against colonialism. Their courage stands as a rebuke to the complacency of the international community, which has too often turned a blind eye to the persistence of imperial claims in our hemisphere.

The Path Forward

The Malvinas question is far from resolved. While military conflict must never again be the means, Argentina’s claim remains as valid today as it was in 1833. The road to justice lies in persistent diplomacy, international advocacy, and the unwavering resolve of the Argentine people to see their sovereign rights respected.

To dismiss the Malvinas as a relic of the past is to ignore the living legacy of colonialism—a legacy that continues to shape geopolitics in the South Atlantic and beyond. The cause of the Malvinas is not merely Argentina’s cause; it is the cause of all who stand for sovereignty, self-determination, and the end of imperial dominion.

Forty years on, the memory of the Malvinas War endures as a solemn reminder of what was lost and what remains to be reclaimed. It is a testament to a nation's dignity—a dignity that no war, no defeat, and no occupation can extinguish.