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.

Malvinas: Robacio Masterfully Commands the Artillery of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group

Account of Second Lieutenant Juan Gabino Suárez, Chief of the “last gun” of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group (GAAerot 4)

  

I share this account once again because Rear Admiral Carlos Hugo Robacio deserves to be remembered as he truly was — by living and reliving a part of his life.

I will never tire of saying it. Never.

Our place in the war: Sapper Hill (Puerto Argentino, Malvinas Islands, Republic of Argentina) — with a forward detachment in San Carlos alongside Battery "A".

A field artilleryman loves to see where his rounds land. He thrives on observing, calculating, correcting. But when you’re the Chief of the Gun Section, that privilege is gone. From the rear —where all you hear are the fire commands and the thunder of the guns— you must imagine the battlefield, reconstruct in your mind what’s unfolding ahead, guided only by instinct, by training... and by doctrine.

That’s when fire adjustment comes alive —the craft of bracketing a target with precision. It's a method as old as it is effective: the first shot, far from being decisive, is merely a starting point. In artillery, a direct hit on the first round proves nothing. Only through disciplined bracketing—first in azimuth, then in range—can effective fire be achieved.

But in the urgency of combat, the temptation to cut corners is always there. One tends to stray from the textbook, from regulation, from what was drilled into you in the classroom. You want to solve everything at once. And that’s where those who forget the fundamentals make their first mistake. Because when the situation is real, and the enemy is advancing, all you have left is what you learned —and held onto.

And then, he appeared: Captain Carlos Hugo Robacio, Commander of Marine Battalion 5. The moment his fire requests began coming in, I knew instantly he was applying doctrine with surgical precision. His Initial Fire Request (IFR) was flawless: the target was clearly described —width, depth, distance, bearing from magnetic north. Everyone in the fire chain knew exactly what had to be done. Tactical clarity radiated through the net. And that kind of clarity inspires. From gun crews to the Fire Direction Center (FDC) and the Fire Support Coordinator (FSC), everyone locked in.

  
CN Carlos Robacio in Malvinas
 

I could read his thinking through the rounds.
The first shot landed off to one side.
The second, at the opposite end.
What was he doing?
He was bracketing the target, establishing the axis of correction. Pure doctrine. Pure art.
The third corrected direction.
The fourth refined range.
The fifth: ten rounds, fire for effect.

Not a moment of hesitation. Robacio didn’t ask —he ordered. And every order was exact.

Then came confirmation from the Forward Observer: successful impact. But who exactly were we firing on? These weren’t theoretical targets. We were firing on British troops who had already closed within 150 meters of our lines —some even closer. Robacio had cut the enemy advance in two, separating the forward elements from the main assault force still pushing up from the rear. He bought time —and lives.

And then, the critical moment.

The new coordinates overlapped the exact position of Marine Battalion 5. The FDC hesitated. “We can’t fire there —our own men are on that grid!” But Robacio didn’t flinch:

“They’re among us! Get in your foxholes and open fire. Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The order came out furious, direct, visceral. And it was necessary.

Even with our guns buried, we kept fighting back.

I don’t remember how many volleys we fired on that line —but it was a lot. Hundreds of rounds. Robacio kept pushing them back, forcing the enemy to scatter. And when he sensed it was time, he ordered a fire barrier. Precision calculations. All guns firing on a perfect line. A wall of steel. And he drove them even farther. Until the guns fell silent.

To me, it was a masterclass in fire control. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Robacio owned the battlefield like a conductor with an orchestra —with precision, instinct, and total battlefield awareness. He was a professional. A tactician. A clear-headed combat leader.

But what were the British really trying to do by attacking BIM5? Was it a diversion? A beachhead for a future assault on Port Stanley? A test of our responsiveness?
Even today, this engagement is barely remembered, hardly studied, nearly absent from the official accounts. And yet, it was one of the most technically sound and fiercely fought defenses of the entire war.

I hope this testimony serves to highlight the professional excellence of Captain Robacio, his tactical brilliance, and his nerve under fire. We never had the chance to work together before the war —but in those days, I could read his mind through every shot fired.

And in artillery, that’s worth more than a thousand words.

One of our artillery guns —in those first days, our assigned combat position— might well be the emblematic one. Maybe because of where it stood. The fence posts were still upright, and the comrades of BIM 5 were up ahead, still building their own defenses.

Forgive me for bringing back these memories —memories of those howitzers that once held back the British advance, firing until there was nothing left to shoot.

(Sapper Hil, Puerto Argentino, Republic of Argentina)

Malvinas: Tumbledown Night

Tumbledown: Blood and Courage

The Battle of Mount Tumbledown: A Nocturnal Clash in the Malvinas War

The Battle of Mount Tumbledown took place on the night of June 13–14, 1982, as part of the British campaign to recapture Puerto Argentino, the capital of the Malvinas Islands. It was a brutal, close-quarters fight in freezing, rugged terrain, pitting the Argentine 5th Marine Infantry Battalion (BIM 5) against a British force comprising the 2nd Battalion Scots Guards, the 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles, elements of 42 Commando Royal Marines, and supporting units like the Welsh Guards and Blues and Royals. The battle’s savagery stemmed from its nocturnal setting, the rocky landscape, and the desperate stakes for both sides.

The Setting: A Dark, Hostile Landscape

Imagine a moonless night, the Malvinas’ winter wind slicing through the air, temperatures hovering near freezing. Mount Tumbledown, a jagged, 750-foot-high ridge of crags and boulders, looms west of Stanley. Its slopes are slick with wet peat and frost, littered with rocks perfect for defensive positions. The Argentine 5th Marines, under Commander Carlos Robacio, are dug into trenches and sangars (stone shelters), their positions fortified with machine guns, mortars, and snipers. They’re cold-weather trained, hardened, and determined to hold this key height overlooking the capital. On the British side, soldiers huddle in the darkness near Goat Ridge, their breath visible as they prepare for a silent advance, weighed down by packs, rifles, and anti-tank weapons.

The Opening Moves: Diversion and Stealth

Picture the battle starting at 8:30 p.m. local time. A diversionary attack kicks off south of Tumbledown—four light tanks from the Blues and Royals (two Scorpions, two Scimitars) rumble forward, their engines roaring, accompanied by a small Scots Guards detachment. Their muzzle flashes light up the night, drawing Argentine fire. Meanwhile, the main assault begins from the west: three companies of Scots Guards—Left Flank, Right Flank, and G Company—move silently in phases, bayonets fixed, under cover of darkness. Mortar teams from 42 Commando set up behind, ready to rain shells, while naval gunfire from HMS Active’s 4.5-inch gun booms offshore, its explosions illuminating the horizon in brief, eerie flashes.

The Clash: Savage Close-Quarters Fighting

Visualize the moment the Scots Guards hit the Argentine lines. Left Flank Company, leading the assault, creeps undetected to the western slopes—then a Guardsman spots an Argentine sniper. A single shot rings out, followed by a volley of 66mm anti-tank rockets streaking through the dark, their fiery trails briefly exposing the enemy. The Guards charge, machine-gunners and riflemen firing from the hip, a chaotic line of muzzle flashes advancing over open ground. Argentine marines of N Company, entrenched with FAL rifles and MAG machine guns, return fire—tracers arc across the night, ricocheting off rocks. Grenades explode, showering shale and dirt; bayonets clash in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The air fills with shouts, screams, and the metallic clatter of weapons.

Halfway up, Left Flank’s 15 Platoon, under Lieutenant Alasdair Mitchell, takes heavy casualties—two men fall dead, others wounded, their blood staining the rocks. Right Flank Company, under Major John Kiszely, pushes east, meeting fierce resistance from Marine Sub-Lieutenant Carlos Vázquez’s 4th Platoon. Phosphorous grenades burst, casting a ghastly white glow, revealing Argentine defenders fighting from crag to crag. The Scots Guards lose eight dead and 43 wounded in this relentless grind, their red tunics (in spirit, if not literal uniform) soaked in sweat and blood.

The Gurkhas and Mount William: A Parallel Struggle

Now shift your gaze south to Mount William, a sub-hill held by the Argentine O Company. The 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles, held in reserve initially, moves in after Tumbledown’s summit is secured. Picture Gurkhas in camouflage, kukris gleaming faintly, advancing across a shell-pocked saddle under Argentine mortar fire from Sapper Hill. Eight are wounded as shells burst in the soft peat, muffling some blasts but not the chaos. They take Mount William by 9:00 a.m., their disciplined advance a stark contrast to the earlier melee, yet no less determined. Robacio would say "We're not afraid of them, they fell like flies". They were humans after all.

 

The Welsh Guards and Sapper Hill: Delayed but Deadly

Imagine the Welsh Guards, paired with Royal Marines, stuck in a minefield en route to Sapper Hill. Their frustration mounts as Argentine mortars pound them from above, one man killed earlier on a motorbike dispatch. They’re meant to follow the Gurkhas but are bogged down, their silhouettes barely visible in the pre-dawn murk, cursing the delay as shells whistle overhead.

 

The Argentine Retreat: A Final Stand

See the Argentine 5th Marines’ resolve crack as dawn nears. A sniper—perhaps Private Luis Bordón—fires at a British Scout helicopter evacuating wounded, injuring two Guardsmen before being cut down in a hail of Scots Guards gunfire. By 9:00 a.m., the Scots Guards hold Tumbledown’s eastern high ground, and the Gurkhas secure Mount William. Commander Robacio plans a counterattack from Sapper Hill, but his men—16 dead, 64 wounded—begin a disciplined retreat toward Puerto Argentino, marching in parade order, colors high, defiant even in defeat. Thirty Argentine bodies lie scattered across the battlefield, a testament to the fight’s ferocity. As soon as Robacio arrives, ask the Militar Governor Menéndez to send all of his men to the front. He was disregarded.

The Aftermath: A Hard-Won Victory

Envision the scene at sunrise: British troops, exhausted, consolidate their positions. The Scots Guards’ Pipe Major James Riddell stands atop Tumbledown, his bagpipes wailing “The Crags of Tumbledown Mountain,” a haunting tribute to the fallen. A Volvo BV-202 lies wrecked by a mine, its crew dazed. The British tally: 10 dead (8 Scots Guards, 1 Welsh Guard, 1 Royal Engineer), over 60 wounded. Medals—DSOs, Military Crosses, Distinguished Conduct Medals—will follow, but for now, the survivors catch their breath, the road to Puerto Argentino open at last.