Two rarely seen photos of an Argentine Navy Grumman S-2E Tracker en route to anti-surface search operations, possibly in late May/early June 1982. Note the nacelles, loaded with sonobuoys. The APS-88 radar is not yet deployed in the Malvinas.
| Specifications | S-21 Santa Fe | S-32 San Luis |
|---|---|---|
| Displacement, t: surfaced submerged |
1870 2340 |
1248 1440 |
| Maximum length, m | 93.9 | 55.9 |
| Maximum beam, m | 8.3 | 6.3 |
| Mean draught, m | 5.2 | 5.5 |
| Hull design type | double hull | single hull |
| Operational diving depth, m | 150 | 250 (max. 500) |
| Endurance, days | ? | 50 |
| Number × power (type) of diesel engines, hp | 4 × ? (General Motors 16-278A) | 4 × 600 (MTU 12V493AZ80) |
| Number × power of electric propulsion motors, hp | 2 × 2400 | 1 × 4600 |
| Maximum speed, knots: surfaced under snorkel submerged |
18 9 15 - one hour, 6 - 34 days |
10 11 22 |
| Range (at speed, knots), miles: surfaced economical submerged |
10,000 (10) 95 (5) |
6000 (8) 400 (4) |
| Torpedo armament: number of torpedo tubes (bow/stern) × calibre, mm torpedo stowage (type) |
10 (6/4) × 533 24 (Mk 14, Mk 37) |
8 × 533 14 (SST-4, Mk 37) |
The Argentine Air Force Douglas A-4C Skyhawk, photographed in 1983, reflects a very particular stage of the post-Malvinas War period. During those years, the integration of French Matra weaponry was evaluated, with homologation tests being carried out on the R550 Magic missile on A-4Cs based at the IV Air Brigade.
The Magic was never used operationally on the A-4Cs, but its technical evaluation and certification progressed. The objective was clear: to try to equip the weapons system with an air-to-air capability superior to that offered by the veteran Shafrir missiles, whose performance was already limited by the standards of the time.
The image is historic not because the missile entered service, but because of the context it represents: an Air Force that, barely a year after the conflict, was seeking to adapt, modernize, and expand its capabilities. Technology, testing, and future projections under the wings of a Skyhawk that had already earned its place in history.
Account taken from the book “With God in the Soul and a Falcon in the Heart”
Narrated by: Captain Grunert — Pucará pilot
Date: 1 May 1982
Place: Darwin
Flight: Captain Grunert, No. 1; Lieutenant Calderón, No. 2; Lieutenant Russo, No. 3; and Lieutenant Cimbaro, No. 4
Weather: calm wind, 3/8 Ac. As. — altocumulus and altostratus. Almost half the sky covered.
Take-off: night-time.
At approximately 05:00 hours we were woken by the Squadron Commander, Major “Toto” Navarro, who informed us that Puerto Argentino had been attacked at 04:40 hours and that we should prepare to take off at first light.
After the pre-flight briefing, we went to a small hut beside the runway to wait while the runway markers were put in place: two at the threshold, one on top of a half 200-litre drum, and another at the opposite threshold.
The flight that was to take off was designated, but since No. 1 and No. 2 were not ready, No. 3 and No. 4 were ordered to take off, in that order.
At the threshold we placed the two aircraft parallel to one another, in order to make use of as much ground as possible, since the field was very short and take-off was not safe. It was a semi-prepared strip laid out on a paddock, very soft and uneven.
While we were at the threshold, No. 1 and No. 2 were taxiing towards it.
During the take-off run, No. 3 put one of its undercarriage wheels into a hole, causing the pilot to lose control of the aircraft. It became completely airborne for approximately 15 seconds and then came down again on three points. By the time it reached the end of the runway, the aircraft was still 5 kilometres per hour below the speed needed for take-off. The departure was extremely rough, with the aircraft buffeting and its wheel striking the marker at the end of the strip.
At the end of the threshold, about 30 metres away, there was a wire fence covered with a kind of creeper roughly 1.5 metres high, which made the take-off even more critical.
Once airborne, No. 4 set course to the south, where we were to remain awaiting orders, while No. 1 and No. 2 were to carry out an offensive reconnaissance before rejoining in the southern sector of Cóndor Base, at Darwin.
No. 1 and No. 2 were unable to take off because No. 1 had an accident at the runway threshold. As a result, the only element available to carry out the mission was the section made up of No. 3 and No. 4.
After five minutes of waiting, the section headed towards the target: a British helicopter-borne landing — an attack with men transported by helicopters — near Puerto Argentino. The radar later informed us that the helicopters had disappeared. For that reason, and after overflying the area, we returned to our base of origin.
With fuel already down to the minimum, I contacted the tower and requested permission to enter the circuit. Permission was denied, and I was ordered to proceed to the alternative airfield, Calderón Naval Air Base, located on Isla Borbón.
Since my fuel gauge was almost at zero, I informed the tower and requested authorisation to land, but they repeated the previous instructions. On my third communication, I was ordered to reach the alternative by any means necessary, because Darwin had been under attack by enemy aircraft for the previous two hours.
The section reached Calderón with practically no fuel left, and No. 3 had to land with the nose wheel unlocked, since it had been twisted during take-off when it hit the hole. To make matters worse, this runway was even worse than the one at Cóndor Base: its surface was very soft and prone to flooding, something that would cause us serious problems in the future.
We were all eager to refuel and rearm, because the escape of our prey had left us full of frustration and with a strong desire to make them pay for the surprise attack of that early morning. But the days to come would more than give us the chance for a revenge we would never forget.
At 4:40 AM on May 1st, the British began a bombing raid on the runway at Puerto Argentino. The days of preparation were over, and we were at the beginning of a battle. The crews were taking off in search of their baptism of fire, and at the same time, that of the Argentine Air Force.
Narrated by: The Author (A-4B Skyhawk Pilot)
The moment had arrived. May 1st, in the morning. Following the attack on the South Georgia Islands days earlier, the British fleet had launched its attack on Puerto Argentino. We had to counterattack. The first to take off was Captain Hugo Ángel del Valle Palaver, with his A-4B Skyhawk squadron, "Sky Hawk." The squadron also included Lieutenant Gálvez, Section Leader, First Lieutenant Luciano Guadagnini, and Ensign Gómez, who were about to engage the enemy for the first time. Their call sign for that mission was "Mole" (during the war, they change it daily so that if the enemy shoots one down, they won't know who it was, since in peacetime a permanent call sign is used). A section of Mirage IIIs, composed of Captain Gustavo Argentino García Cuerva and the First Lieutenant Perona, call sign "Dardo" for that mission. They began the first crossing of that immense, wild, and solitary sea, propelled by their single engine.
Near the islands, the Squadron Leader made contact with the radar at Puerto Argentino, and it began guiding them toward a target, giving them the heading to set toward it. The inexperience of both our ground crew and aircrew was considerable, due both to the Theater of Operations in which we had to fight and to the fact that it was the first time our Air Force had entered combat. This was quickly overcome by the enormous professionalism of its men and some painful experiences.
1- Contact: Speaking by radio.
2- Target: A material objective or part of it, against which offensive action is carried out.
"Your target is 30 miles away at level 200!" said the radar operator.
Suddenly, Captain Hugo del Valle Palaver realized that a terrible mistake was being made; that he They were being sent to intercept a squadron of British Harrier jets, when their mission and armament were intended to attack ships that were bombarding the eastern islands at that moment.
The Mirage section covering them had already informed the control tower that they were beginning their return to the mainland due to low fuel.
The A-4B commander decided to act quickly to prevent his men from being shot down by enemy missiles; but they also had to protect their auxiliary fuel tanks, pumps, and bombs, because, being a “David versus Goliath” situation, they had to prepare themselves, in their humility, to maintain a long confrontation with the maximum of their operational capacity, so he did not jettison his external stores.
He began a rapid descent, seeking speed and low-level flight to avoid being detected by the radar of any British frigate, which would give their position to those pursuing them. Meanwhile, the Mirage section commander carried out the first heroic action of the Argentine Air Force in this war and On the first mission of the same, he demonstrated the immensity of his heart. Despite having minimal fuel, and knowing that he might not have enough to return to the mainland, upon hearing what was happening over the radio, he returned to the Islands, risking the lives of both himself and his wingman. By placing himself between the A-4Bs and the Harriers, his aggressive stance managed to rout the enemy, whom he encountered in the air.
Then they returned—the section and the squadron—to their home base on the mainland, landing the Mirage IIIs, as we say in aviation jargon, "without juice," that is, almost out of fuel.
The first page of our Air Force's history in this war had just been written, and we could already say with pride: those are some of our own! We were waiting for them on the ground to give them a hug.
I remember that "Paco" told us that if he had any problems with his Mirage, he would attempt to land on the Puerto runway. Argentinian, since it was a shame to lose a plane that had cost the country so much, especially with a runway suitable for emergencies. This would later cost him his life on another mission that same day.
Dedicated to the British bastards occupying what is ours!
Handwritten copy of the Decree establishing a Military Commandancy in the Malvinas Islands and adjacent coasts, Buenos Aires — dated 10 June 1829.
TRANSCRIPTION:
When, through the glorious revolution of 25 May 1810, these provinces separated themselves from the rule of the Mother Country, Spain possessed a material portion of the Malvinas Islands and of all the others surrounding Cape Horn, including that known by the name of Tierra del Fuego, that possession being justified by the right of first occupant, by the recognition of the principal maritime powers of Europe, and by the proximity of these islands to the mainland that formed the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires, upon whose Sovereign they depended. For this reason, the Government of the Republic, having succeeded to all the rights which the former Mother Country held over these provinces and which its viceroys enjoyed, has continued to exercise acts of dominion over the said islands, their ports and coasts, despite the fact that circumstances have not hitherto permitted that part of the Republic’s territory to receive the attention and care that its importance requires.
But as it is necessary no longer to delay the measures that may safeguard the rights of the Republic, while at the same time enabling it to enjoy the advantages that the products of those islands may provide and ensuring the protection due to their population, the Government has resolved to decree:
Article 1. The Malvinas Islands and those adjacent to Cape Horn in the Atlantic Ocean shall be governed by a political and military commander to be appointed immediately by the Government of the Republic.
Article 2. The residence of the political and military commander shall be on Soledad Island, and there a battery shall be established under the flag of the Republic.
—End of Part 1—
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.
“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.
