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.

Operation Fingent: The United Kingdom “sells” radar to Chile to spy on Argentine flights

Operation Fingent: the radar the British sold to Chile to spy on Argentine movements during the Malvinas War

In a rushed move, Great Britain devised plans to detect the aircraft taking off from Argentina’s mainland air bases — a reminder of how, even in wartime, they were willing to involve neighbouring countries to monitor and undermine Argentine efforts in defending the Malvinas.

Based on Mariano P. Sciaroni || Infobae





As the British fleet set sail toward the Malvinas, the British high command was well aware it would face a serious problem if confronted by Argentina’s Air Force and Naval Aviation. At that time, the Royal Navy was designed to operate in the North Atlantic, under the protection of aerial cover and early warning systems provided both by the British Royal Air Force (RAF) and the U.S. Navy.

Operating outside that zone, with only the limited number of carrier-based aircraft aboard the Invincible and Hermes, the British would lack the advance warning needed to ready their missiles and position interceptors to counter any aerial threat.

Without such anticipation, every Argentine attack would effectively become a surprise, detected only when it was already mere miles from its target — something the British simply could not afford.

In a scramble, they rushed to design plans to detect the aircraft taking off from Argentina’s mainland air bases. The core idea was that no plane should be able to lift off from Argentine soil without being noticed, giving the British fleet at least 45 minutes’ warning of an incoming airstrike — just enough time to call a “Yellow Alert” for planes in the air and prepare for bombs or missiles.

First, special forces (possibly the famed Special Air Service) would be deployed on the continent to report movements at the Río Grande, Río Gallegos, and Comodoro Rivadavia bases (this fell under the so-called “Operation Shutter”; the commandos were only present from late May to early June, and it remains a mystery how they got there or how they left, as details on the matter are still classified).



Naval Station “Almirante Hermes Quijada” in Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, during the war

They also considered that nuclear submarines would approach the Argentine coast to report on aerial movements, detecting them either through their periscopes or with electronic surveillance equipment.

Finally, arrangements were made with the “friendly” Chilean Air Force, whose Thomson-CSF radar located near Punta Arenas would provide alerts about takeoffs from Ushuaia, Río Grande, and Río Gallegos.

However, there remained a large gap: the entire province of Chubut and the Comodoro Rivadavia base were beyond radar coverage. That was a serious problem.

Luckily for the British, Wing Commander Sidney Edwards, the Royal Air Force’s delegate in Chile, had already secured from General Fernando Matthei, commander of the Chilean Air Force, a “blank check” to move forward in solving such inconveniences.

But the Chileans had no radar stationed there — nor did they have a mobile radar system.

To overcome this, the British had to urgently sell them a radar. The operation was quickly agreed upon: the price was set at under one British pound (and, for the same token, they also received six Hawker Hunter fighter jets, three Canberra bombers, and anti-aircraft missiles). An entire air force for less than 60 Argentine pesos at today’s exchange rate — a bargain, to put it mildly.

With political approval secured, the military phase began moving. Thus, the so-called “Operation Fingent” was designed and took shape. It was decided that the radar to be transferred (or rather, sold) would be a Marconi S259 transportable unit, part of the British Royal Air Force’s Mobile Reserve.


A S259 radar operating at RAF Saxa Vord in the 70s in the Shetland Islands, North Scotland. Possibly this very same radar has been sold to Chile in 1982,

The radar would be accompanied by a so-called “sales team” — which, in reality, was nothing more than British Royal Air Force military personnel dressed in civilian clothes, tasked with operating the radar and training the supposed new “owners.”

This “sales team” was made up of four officers and seven non-commissioned officers, who would carry no weapons and would formally be working under the Chilean armed forces. They were instructed to buy warm civilian clothing and ensure their passports were in order. They were also informed that their mission was absolutely secret and that they were to behave at all times as civilian contractors.

They were forbidden from speaking about this matter to anyone — neither in Great Britain nor in Chile.

The deployment location was ultimately decided by General Matthei: it would be set up in Balmaceda, positioned at the latitude of Comodoro Rivadavia, and would be protected by the Chilean Army. A strategic spot, ideal for monitoring Argentine movements.

With the mission in place, on May 5, 1982, a Boeing 747 from the Flying Tigers airline departed RAF Brize Norton (not far from London), loaded with the radar equipment and personnel, heading for Santiago de Chile. The route included a stop in San Juan, Puerto Rico, making it a long journey.

Upon landing, a military transport plane — a C-130 Hercules — appeared to carry them to their final destination. The issue was that this aircraft bore camouflage very similar to British military planes, and painted on its fuselage were the words FUERZA AREA (not AÉREA) DE CHILE — in short, it was a British plane.

A British plane, carrying British military personnel and British radar, to just a few kilometers from the Argentine border.

A Chilean C-130 Hercules and another from the British Royal Air Force (RAF) wait on the tarmac, photographed from an RAF VC-10. The photo was taken on April 24, 1982, on Easter Island (Chile).

Soon after, the radar reached its final destination and was swiftly installed. The British put it to good use, while Chilean troops guarded the area to prevent any issues.

The information gathered by the radar was securely transmitted to the headquarters of the Chilean Air Force’s intelligence service. From there, a special British team operating a satellite communication system would relay the data to their fleet.

It was a well-oiled system that ultimately worked very effectively — and, as mentioned earlier, it was complemented by reports from ground commandos, another radar, and finally the nuclear submarines near the coast (for example, the submarine HMS Valiant, operating near Río Grande, alone provided 300 alerts of aircraft in the air).

When it was all over, as General Matthei later explained, “we kept the radars, the missiles, and the planes, and they were satisfied because they received the information they needed on time. The deal was over, and Sidney Edwards was dismissed the next day.”

“Argentina has its back well covered,” said Sergio Onofre Jarpa, Chile’s ambassador in Buenos Aires, not long before. A peculiar statement, considering that right in the middle of Argentina’s back, a British radar was operating — helping foreign forces monitor and strike at Argentine defenses in the Malvinas.

Malvinas: The Real British Casualties and Why the Secret?

The Malvinas/Falklands: Why Will British Casualty Figures Remain Classified Until 14 June 2072?

At the end of the Malvinas/Falklands War, the British government enacted a military secrecy order effective until 14 June 2072—a period of 90 years. Until that date, anyone who discloses or publishes any information contained within that classified material will face appropriate prosecution before a court martial.

This is not merely a preliminary form of censorship but a clear instance of state-imposed secrecy for national security reasons.

So far, no substantial details regarding the contents of the secrecy order have emerged, but it is widely believed that one of its main points concerns the significant loss of life suffered by the United Kingdom during the conflict. There are also suggestions that it includes records of considerable losses of military vehicles—both naval and aerial. A large part of Britain’s logistical apparatus was reportedly destroyed or left at the bottom of the Atlantic.

The official British figures list 255 killed, 777 wounded, and approximately 280 subsequent suicides linked to war-related trauma. However, taking into account that an attacking force typically suffers higher casualties than a defending force—with even the most conservative estimates ranging from 2:1 to 3:1—the official numbers appear questionable, especially considering the harsh terrain, comparable to Greenland or the Scottish Highlands.

Below is a day-by-day account of British losses from their arrival at South Georgia on 23 April until 14 June 1982, when the islands were retaken. (In red are the daily combat casualties; in brackets, in some cases, are estimated figures reflecting the likely proportion of troops lost in each engagement):

Summary:

23/04: 1 – A Sea King helicopter crashes at South Georgia.
01/05: 10 (2) – Two Harriers destroyed near Port Stanley. Eight sailors killed in attacks on: HMS Arrow, HMS Exeter, HMS Glamorgan, HMS Hermes, HMS Alacrity.
02/05: 1 – A Sea Harrier shot down over Port Stanley by 20 mm artillery.
04/05: 43 (3) – Harriers downed at Condor Air Base. HMS Sheffield sinks (40 dead). HMS Hermes possibly hit by an Exocet missile, forcing a change of course and reducing air coverage. Some reports suggest severe damage or partial sinking.
05/05: 1 (1) – Royal Marine killed at Elephant Bay.
06/05: 2 (2) – Two Harriers shot down north of East Falkland.
12/05: 4 – HMS Glasgow disabled; attack on HMS Brilliant.
17/05: 1 (1) – Sea King helicopter downed near the Argentine coast.
18/05: 22 – Sea King crashes into Albatross (Argentine sources claim it was shot down).
19/05: 1 (1) – Sea King helicopter crash; SAS specialist killed.
21/05: 32 – Two Gazelles downed at San Carlos (3 dead). HMS Ardent sunk (22 dead). HMS Argonaut, HMS Antrim, HMS Brilliant disabled; HMS Broadsword damaged. Three Sea Harriers (1) and one Sea King (1) shot down.
22/05: 1 – Harrier shot down.
23/05: 8 – Harrier crashes during a night sortie from HMS Hermes (1 dead). HMS Antelope sunk (7 dead).
24/05: 10 – Damage to: HMS Sir Lancelot, HMS Sir Galahad, HMS Sir Bedivere, HMS Fearless (6+ casualties; actual figures may be higher, given the number of troops on board and the circumstances of the attack).
25/05: 135 – Three Harriers downed (3 dead). HMS Coventry sunk (90+ dead), HMS Atlantic Conveyor sunk (20 dead). HMS Broadsword, HMS Sir Lancelot disabled; HMS Alacrity, HMS Yarmouth damaged. Two Sea Kings shot down; two others damaged.
27/05: 11 – Seven Royal Marines killed at San Carlos (7 dead). Three Gazelle helicopters and one Sea King downed (4 dead).
28/05: 136 – Two Sea Kings and a Scout helicopter downed (3 dead). One soldier killed on West Falkland (1 dead). 130 troops from 2 Para and the Royal Auxiliary killed during the Battle of Darwin (27–29 May)—the equivalent of an entire infantry company.
30/05: 44 – 38 killed during the Battle of Goose Green (23–30 May). A Sea Harrier crashes (1 dead). HMS Invincible reportedly attacked (5+ casualties) by an Exocet and two 250 kg bombs. Unconfirmed reports suggest the ship sank, which would imply higher casualties.
08/06: 162 – Fitzroy attack: HMS Sir Galahad (89 dead), HMS Sir Tristam (40 dead), Foxtrot 4 landing craft (6+ dead). Several Chinese dockworkers killed on the beach during heavy bombardments. HMS Avenger disabled. HMS Plymouth attacked by five Argentine missiles at Pleasant Bay.
09/06: 18 – Two Sisters Mountain, SAS commandos.
10/06: 4 – Four Royal Marines killed in an accident.
11/06: 44 – Deaths between 11 and 12 June: (3) at Mount Harriet, (23) from 3 Para at Mount Longdon, (4) from 45 Commando, (1) from 42 Commando, (13) from B Company.
12/06: 29 – (4) at Two Sisters Mountain. HMS Glamorgan (25 dead) disabled by an Exocet missile fired from Port Stanley.
13/06: 360 – Deaths between 13 and 14 June in the battles of Mount Longdon, Mount Williams, and Wireless Ridge.
14/06: 10 (5) at Tumbledown; two Sea Kings shot down. Five killed at Top Malo House.

Total: 1,090 killed, not including potential additional unrecorded losses.

Damaged and Lost Vessels:

• Sunk/Destroyed: 8 ships (including HMS Sheffield, HMS Coventry, HMS Ardent, HMS Antelope, HMS Sir Galahad, HMS Sir Tristam, Atlantic Conveyor, Foxtrot 4 landing craft).

• Disabled: 9 ships (e.g., HMS Invincible (possibly sunk), HMS Alacrity, HMS Avenger, HMS Glamorgan, HMS Glasgow).

• Heavily Damaged: 5 ships (e.g., HMS Brilliant, HMS Broadsword, HMS Plymouth, HMS Ambuscade, HMS Sir Lancelot).

• Moderately Damaged: 9 ships (e.g., HMS Hermes, HMS Exeter, HMS Fearless, plus others).

Total Affected Ships: 31.

Aircraft Losses:

• Fleet Air Arm: 19 Sea Harriers shot down, 10 grounded due to mechanical failure; 13 helicopters downed, 32 others disabled.

• RAF: 12 Harriers downed, 5 grounded; 12 helicopters downed, 26 grounded.

• Royal Marines and Army: Multiple helicopters lost (46 downed overall; 62 disabled).

Total Aircraft Lost: 154.

Of 77 fixed-wing aircraft deployed (Harriers and Sea Harriers), 46 were rendered inoperable. Out of 171 helicopters deployed, 108 became unusable.

Conclusion:

• Total Dead: 1,090.

• Total Ships Affected: 31.

• Total Aircraft Lost: 154.

The UK has never disclosed the full extent of its personnel and equipment losses, which, by all accounts, exceeded those of Argentina and are reflected in the scale of damage sustained.

---

Malvinas: Blood Over The Murrell River

Blood on the Murrell River: The Commandos Who Fought in the "Death Zone" and Escaped an Ambush

"They're going to kill us all," muttered the Army and Gendarmerie men as they faced off against British paratroopers in the Falklands. They were trapped in the strip of land where a soldier’s chances of survival are nearly nonexistent—but they fought back. The bullets shattering the rocks, the shrapnel that tore into them, and how they ultimately forced the British to retreat when all seemed lost.
Nicolás Kasanzew || Infobae




Captain Figueroa (center), Lieutenant Anadón (right) y First Lieutenant García Pinasco (back), planifying the mission, June 6th, 1982 (Photo: Nicolás Kasanzew)


Through freezing cold and sleet, they navigated a sector battered by naval gunfire and riddled with their own minefields. Leading them was Lieutenant Marcelo Anadón, who knew the terrain well. Advancing cautiously along the riverbank, spaced about fifty meters apart, they suddenly found themselves bathed in the glow of a massive, radiant moon.

Sergeant Guillén, scanning the far side of the Murrell, noticed a faint glimmer. At first, he assumed it was just the moonlight reflecting off the water. Only later would he realize—it had been the sheen of a plastic poncho worn by a British soldier.


"They shredded my hood and the back of my jacket, but I kept firing. The medic, Moyano, pulled a bunch of shrapnel out of my arm and back."

As they reached the bridge—a simple wooden structure with no railings—Anadón and his men prepared to cross. That was when the British opened fire.

Figueroa, along with Non-Commissioned Officers Poggi and Tunini, was making his way back from the far side of the river, where they had gone to set up a post-ambush blockade. Just then, an explosion ripped through the air, followed by gunfire. Instinctively, all the commandos flattened themselves against the ground.

The British were about 80 meters away, positioned on a rocky high ground across the river.

"We're exposed. They're going to kill all three of us," Figueroa thought. In trying to set an ambush, they had walked straight into one. Without hesitation, he opened fire toward the flashes of enemy gunfire. His blood felt like it was bubbling in his veins, and his nostrils were flooded with the sharp scent of adrenaline.

The Argentine commandos had landed in what soldiers call the "death zone"—a stretch of battlefield where survival is almost impossible.


Figueroa: "We're Exposed. They're Going to Kill All Three of Us."

The British fired both in single shots and rapid bursts. Figueroa saw streaks of red and orange whipping through the darkness, writhing toward him like demonic ribbons, hunting for his life. They were tracer rounds—illuminated bullets the British loaded every five shots to guide their fire in the night.

"It was the most magnificent sight I’ve ever witnessed in my life," he tells me.

Bullets slammed into the nearby rocks, shattering them into a storm of dust and shrapnel. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled his lungs, leaving him lightheaded, almost intoxicated. The fear of death dulled, swallowed by

• "Captain, I'm hit!"
• "Where did they get you?"
• "In the leg, but I can crawl back."
• "Fall back, we’ll get to you soon."

"I'll help him and pull back with him," Tunini interjected.

The round had pierced Poggi’s calf, passing clean through without hitting bone.

Figueroa kept firing until his rifle jammed. Fortunately, his comrades—especially Sergeant Guillén—were scattered beyond the bridge, taking cover behind the rocks. Their relentless fire on the hill forced the British machine guns and rifles to divide their attention, shifting some of the incoming fire away from Figueroa.

Guillén recalls: "They shredded my hood and the back of my jacket, but I kept firing. The medic, Moyano, pulled a bunch of shrapnel out of my arm and back."

"Cheto" (Handsome) Anadón asked García Pinasco for permission to charge the British, but the section leader held him back, telling him to wait until daylight.

As Figueroa fell back, he heard several explosions—then silence. The British machine guns had gone quiet. It was the fearless Anadón, standard-bearer of Commando 601, who, with deadly precision, had launched FAL-mounted PDF grenades directly into the enemy’s position. Only their riflemen were still firing now.

Once again, "Cheto" Anadón asked García Pinasco for permission to attack. Again, the lieutenant denied him, insisting they wait. But as Figueroa reached their position, he roared, "Let’s go get these bastards!" The adrenaline and fury coursing through him made it impossible to hold back.

Despite his reservations, García Pinasco relented. Figueroa took command, and the unit stormed across the bridge to launch their assault. Anadón quickly organized his men into a staggered formation: Vergara, Suárez, Quinteros, and two gendarmes from the elite Alacrán group—Natalio Figueredo and Miguel Puentes.

A faint light was beginning to creep over the battlefield. The attack was about to begin.

"The objective was to sprint forward, surround them from both sides of the ridge, and wipe them out—leave no one behind," recalls Captain Figueroa.

Once everything was set, he raised his right arm and gave the order: "Charge, damn it! Let’s wipe these bastards out!"

The commandos stormed ahead, firing from the hip in fully automatic bursts, mimicking the cadence of a machine gun. Their shouts and insults tore through the night, meant to unnerve the British troops.

The first to reach the enemy position was the fearless Lieutenant Anadón. But as he scanned the area, he realized the British paratroopers had already fled in haste, dragging their wounded with them.

In their retreat, the enemy had left behind a trove of abandoned equipment—firearms, radios, rucksacks, tents, communication codes, berets, gloves, a camera, and even a small Union Jack. That flag would soon be displayed as a trophy at the Commando 601 headquarters in Puerto Argentino/Stanley.

García Pinasco had been ordered to strike the enemy with a swift raid and set up an ambush.

The sheer speed of the assault forced the British paratroopers into a chaotic retreat. In their haste, they left behind an active radio—still transmitting—used to communicate with their high command. Bloodstains pooled on the ground, grim evidence of their casualties.

Later, the Argentine troops intercepted enemy radio chatter: urgent requests for helicopters to evacuate the wounded. Not long after, about four kilometers away, they spotted a flare piercing the sky—followed by the descent of a Sea King helicopter, marked with the white insignia of a medical evacuation unit.

After the battle, Guillén helped Indio Poggi to his feet. Poggi looked at him and said, "Wash my wound."

Guillén reached into his pack and pulled out a Margaret River triangle-shaped bottle. He raised it to his lips, pretending to take a swig.

"You bastard!" Poggi roared. "Don’t drink my medicine!"

Spoils of Battle: British Paratroopers’ Abandoned Gear – June 7, 1982 (Photo: Nicolás Kasanzew)

Needless to say, the commandos eagerly devoured the gourmet rations abandoned by the men of the 3rd Parachute Battalion—dried apple compote, chocolate, nuts, biscuits, and raisins.

A bitter blow for the Brits; a feast fit for kings for the Argies.

But not all rewards were sweet. The Gendarmerie generously decorated its two men for their role in the battle. The Army, however, completely ignored the commandos of 601—the very unit that had handed them victory at the Murrell River.

Malvinas: The Fall of Gazelle XX-411 Under Güemes Team’s Fierce Fire

A Unique Photo… and Why It Matters

This photo is unique because the British NEVER show their dead—by law. In stark contrast, we have been bombarded with images of our fallen, displayed as trophies by them. To put it into perspective, the contingent of journalists embedded with British forces during the war was strictly forbidden from photographing bodies—unless they were already inside a body bag.

Now, let’s analyze this moment: May 21, 1982.

The wreckage belongs to the Gazelle helicopter of 3BAS, shot down by the brave men of Equipo Güemes (Güemes Combat Team), stationed in San Carlos. That day, they didn’t just take down this aircraft—they brought down three more helicopters. After the battle, they managed to break through the British encirclement and reached an estancia called Douglas, in the center of the island. There, on May 25, they formed up to honor Argentina’s national day before being airlifted to Puerto Argentino. Legendary footage by Eduardo Rotondo captures their arrival, where they were greeted with chocolates by Colonel Seineldín himself.

That same day, May 21, as British troops were landing, Sea King helicopters were transporting components of a Rapier surface-to-air missile launcher. One of these Sea Kings came under concentrated Argentine fire from a hill defended by Lieutenant Esteban (RI-25) and Sub-Lieutenant Vázquez (RI-12). The aircraft was forced into an emergency landing.

Then came the Gazelle XX-411, piloted by Sergeants Andy Evans (Royal Marines) and Eddy Candlish, rushing to assist. But as it approached, it was met with a relentless storm of Argentine gunfire. It crashed into the water—Evans perished, while Candlish managed to swim to shore, where kelpers helped him.

The British response was immediate. Another Gazelle, XX-402, armed with rocket pods, was dispatched to the battlefield. Lieutenant Ken D. Francis RM and his co-pilot, Corporal Brett Giffin, were at the controls. But once again, the Argentine riflemen struck with precision. The helicopter was torn apart by FAL fire, crashing at Punta Camarones, killing both men on board.

And that’s what we see in the photo: the shattered XX-402, guarded by a sentry. The lifeless bodies of the pilots lie on the ground.

Approaching rapidly, with his back to the camera, is Dr. Rick Jolly, the British medic who was later decorated by Argentina for saving the lives of countless soldiers—a true man of honor.

This image holds countless details of significance: the rocket pods, the antennas, the helmets… every element a silent witness to that day.

And there was yet another Gazelle—XX-412—that came in for a direct attack on our troops. It, too, was hit by Argentine fire. According to British reports, it managed to withdraw and was later repaired.

That afternoon, four British helicopters were knocked out of combat—by just a handful of brave men.

This isn’t just history. This is the untold story of courage, strategy, and sacrifice.

Source: Pucará de Malvinas

English Invasions: Battle of Pedriel

Battle of Perdriel

Lorenzo López Saves the Life of Gral.
Juan Martín de Pueyrredón
in the battle of Perdriel.

The colonel Gillespie not is the only English who praised the benevolence with which the conquerors were treated by the main families of Buenos Aires. And if well the gentlemen showed certain reluctance in political matters, "the ladies –says– us compensated with excess the absence of those matters, with the animated chat, the fascinating sweetness and, by what never fail in their purposes, the desire of pleasing." Ignacio Núñez adds that, except for objections related to points of religion, the English "were particularly distinguished by the main families of the city, and their generals walked arm in arm through the streets, with the Marcos, the Escaladas and Sarrateas." And the lieutenant Linch reassured his mother with a letter in which he said: "Here not me consider as an enemy; the kindnesses of which I am object in all parts and especially those that me dispense the noble families of Lastra, Terrada, Sarratea and Goyena, are very great for attempt to explain them with words."

Be what be about these refinements, and of one that other romance with which Buenos Aires gifted to the English, we know that to many Spaniards and Creoles dominated them the rancor, the indignation, the shame; as was seen in the rudeness of the countryman Guanes, which had to cost him a beating with belts and a night in the stocks, in the pride of a foul-mouthed girl of the inn. "Astonished the people at seeing conquered the city by a handful of men that could undo with stones," soon began to react. "All we fled to hide in the farms and in the fields; but with the purpose of avenging ourselves," tells us José Melián. They had to "combine some plan to shake off the yoke that the English just imposed on them," says Trigo.

With much secrecy, some patriots began to mature the idea of reconquering the country. "I, who desired it with eagerness –would say Zelaya– and who had many friends with whom I met, I resolved immediately to work in this sense."

Indeed: in the 46 days of English domination there were complaisant ones who entertained the invaders with their gatherings, their sweets, and their waltzes. There were helpful spies who, by night, brought them the small snack of their betrayal. "We had in the city some hidden enemies," tells Gillespie. There were others who already practiced the "do not get involved" inside the city or moving away from it with some pretext. But, also, there were those who risked themselves to vindicate the masculinity stained that should have been in half of Buenos Aires: those who would risk their fortunes and their lives to expel the intruders. Among these dissenters was Zelaya. He was then 24 years old.

Various subversive groups intended to harass the English, each one in their own way. Gerardo Esteve Llach, with the help of Pepe "the Blond" (José Alday), wanted "to gather a portion of sailors," to capture with them the English ships that were at anchor and take them to Montevideo. But the young Felipe de Sentenach convinced him that "it would be better if they tried to see if they could achieve the reconquest of this plaza," for which it would be a good strike to install mines beneath the barracks occupied by English detachments.

For his part, Juan Vázquez Feijoo had proposed to Juan Trigo that on a determined day and at an agreed hour, they attack the parade and the detachment of the fort "with knife in hand."

Martín Rodríguez thought that, taking advantage of the habit of Beresford and Pack of going out for horseback rides with two soldiers up to the Paso de Burgos, they could be kidnapped.

Several conspirators who were with Liniers before he went to Montevideo in search of reinforcements, tried to dissuade him, and "they proposed to him several projects for an immediate movement"; but to him, they seemed some absurd and others very dangerous (Nuñez).

With the purpose of "gathering the spirits of the various factions and opinions that there were" and joining their efforts, Sentenach, Llach, Tomás Valencia, Trigo, and Vázquez met on the outer seats of the Plaza de Toros (Retiro) and decided to work together. New meetings were held at the house of the comedian Sinforiano, in the back room of Valencia’s bookstore, and in other homes, with the necessary secrecy, to discuss what should be done.

Don Martín de Alzaga, who was willing to contribute "all the money that was needed," summoned the conspirators for a decisive meeting at his house (today, Bolívar 370). In it, "each of the attendees proposed the idea that in his concept should be adopted"; and, "after having debated various plans to carry out the reconquest," they agreed on a common plan.

This agreement did not entirely conceal, however, the ill-will between the subversive group of "the Catalans," led by Sentenach and financed by Alzaga, with the "party" of Trigo and Vázquez. The resentment of these was particularly directed at Alzaga, whom his followers would come to call "the Father of the Homeland"; and his detractors, "Martincho Robespierre." And it would culminate later when Trigo accused Alzaga and the Catalans of having "ideas of independence" that were heard in the secret councils of the conspirators. More precisely, it was stated that in the back room of Valencia’s bookstore, they had talked about forming an independent republic after the reconquest. And perhaps something of this was overheard by an orphan girl that Valencia had; "because as a girl she sneaked in to hear everything, although sometimes they threw her out of the room, and she would go and come, either out of curiosity or with the purpose of bringing some mates." Such a "horrendous crime" could not be proven, which slander had attached like burrs to the honor of faithful vassals; but it gave them a grievance.

To all this would lead the rivalry of the Catalans with the "dependents" of Trigo, for the moment still united in a common subversive plan.

The Plan in Motion

The plan consisted of recruiting people, stockpiling horses, weapons, and ammunition, and placing explosive mines beneath the barracks where English detachments were stationed.

For the mines, they considered renting the house of Manuel Espinosa, in front of the first bastion of the Fort, towards La Merced; but as they could not, they rented the house next door, which had an entrance through La Alameda and belonged to P. Martiniano Alonso. To disguise it, a supposed carpentry was installed there.

Near the grounds of San Ignacio, on the streets of San Carlos and the Holy Trinity (Alsina and Bolívar), in the building that had belonged to the Procurator’s Office of the Missions, was installed the Fixed Infantry Barracks, commonly called Ranchería Barracks; in it, there was also an English detachment. Therefore, they rented, in its vicinity, the house of José Martínez de Hoz; and there the "miners" Bartolomé Tast and Isidoro Arnau dug the tunnel entrance to place the explosive. An armed group watched from the rooftop of the Café and billiards of José Marco.

Recruiting people carried the risk of being discovered by an informant. To avoid greater harm in this case, they adopted a cell system, the only contact being 5 volunteers; and each captain would be the head and only contact of 5 corporals.

In this they set out to see a subject who had told me he had 80 men ready –tells us Domingo Matheu–; but that they had to be given 4 reales daily until the reconquest." There was no issue: Alzaga had assured that they had "a great fund at disposal"; and he was not the only one contributing money.

The 27 of June at night, instructed to Cornelio Zelaya, who in little time recruited 72 countrymen. Each one received daily, at the prayer, their four reales (Honor for Hipólito Castañer, a modest laborer “who wanted nothing”). The canary Zerpa recruited 50 men. Others stockpiled white weapons and firearms. In some secret place, howitzers were being mounted. The conspirators did not rest.

Another relevant “leader” was Juan Martín de Pueyrredón, who had arrived from Montevideo with Manuel Arroyo to recruit countrymen and prepare provisioning, in support of the expedition of Liniers. “Pueyrredón passed us the word, that instantly found echo in all our friends” – tells us Melián. “We enlisted more than 300, who should meet armed on a given day in the Chacarita of the Colegiales,” adds Martín Rodríguez.

It had been arranged that the volunteers were concentrated and prepared outside the city. For that, the called “Chacra of Perdriel” was rented, a property situated 4 leagues from Buenos Aires (Villa Ballester, Street Roca 1860, 200 meters from kilometer 18 of Route 8), not far from the farm of Diego Cassero. It had taken the name of its former owner, the Frenchman Julián Perdriel, and later belonged to Domingo Belgrano. It was enclosed with thorny trees that bordered a ditch and had a building of two bodies and a terrace, whose rooms faced a central patio, closed with a gate.

In the night of the 26 of July, Trigo and Vázquez went with some 200 men towards the farm of Perdriel and installed the camp there. There are those who say that the objective was to call the attention of the enemy “and distract it from what was being executed in the city,” where “there was already enough scandal or murmur” about the conspiracy.

Certainly, “the enemies did not lack news about these movements” (Núñez), due to “their informers, of whom they had many” (Beruti).

One day (27 of July), while Zelaya was at his house with his friend Antonio Villalta, discussing details of the subversive plan, a constable of the Cabildo, nicknamed Petaca, came to look for him and said:

• “Are you Mister Cornelio Zelaya?”

• “Yes, sir, I am.”

• “By order of His Excellency the Governor, you must present yourself immediately in the chapter hall, where His Excellency awaits you.”

• “Very well. Tell His Excellency that I will go at once.”

Zelaya entered, meditating on a well-founded suspicion, and told Villalta:

• “Friend, they have discovered me! Beresford is calling for me, and it can only be to hang me. While I go to the billiard hall to see if I can find Palomares to arrange something, do me the favor of saddling my horse. As soon as I return, I will mount and ride to the countryside before they capture me. And you will lead the people to Perdriel.”

Indeed, Palomares was in the billiard hall, and upon learning that Beresford had found the end of the thread, he fled along with Zelaya, fearing being turned in “by so many informers.”

Both went to the farm of Francisco Orma, in Barracas, where they met with Diego Baragaña, Manuel Arroyo, José Pueyrredón, and other patriots who had gathered to go together to Luján, where they would join the forces of Juan Martín de Pueyrredón.

They left at dusk in the direction of the newly founded parish of San José, in the lands of Ramón Flores (today the neighborhood of Flores). From there, they took the road to Córdoba (today Gaona), which crossed the ravine of Morón by the north of Nuestra Señora del Camino (Morón), and at midnight, they reached the bridge of Pedro Márquez, from where they would continue to Luján.

Pueyrredón had gathered the contingent of countrymen summoned in the Chacarita of the Colegiales and in the Holy Places of Jerusalem (today San Martín), along with the dragoons that Commander Antonio Olavarría had collected on the frontier. Together, they returned towards the farm of Perdriel.

For their part, the Catalans had dispatched, on the 30 of July, a body of 50 riflemen and 4 howitzers under the command of Esquiaga and Anzoátegui, with the secret intent of replacing Trigo and Vázquez, either peacefully or forcibly, in the command of the camp. But they had not yet mounted the howitzers when they encountered an unexpected surprise.

Battleground Today

Time To Fight

Informed Beresford of that concentration of forces and that they had few weapons, he decided to strike. At dawn on August 1st, a division of 500 infantry with two cannons, commanded by Colonel Pack and guided by the disgraced mayor Francisco González, left the city stealthily.

At 7 in the morning, they fell by surprise upon the farm of Perdriel and, in one swift blow, dismantled that camp of inexperienced men where, with little fortune, the homeland was beginning to be foreseen.

Although Beruti strives to prove that "the victory was ours" due to the stubborn resistance against the enemy, let us accept that, when the English deployed in battle line and opened fire at will, "the rout was total, without a single man remaining in the field," as Martín Rodríguez states. "Ours defended themselves bravely," affirms Sagui, "but could not avoid retreating with some losses." This is corroborated by the author of Diary of a Soldier, admitting that the patriots "fought like lions, but there was no other choice but to flee each as best they could."

With greater detail, Núñez tells us that the patriots insisted on fighting, despite the disadvantage of their weapons, forgetting that the main objective was to prepare to operate with the expedition that was expected to arrive at any moment. “The result was as it had to be: the supporters could not withstand the enemy’s volleys and fled in disorder, despite the heroic efforts of Citizen Pueyrredón and the brave volunteers who accompanied him.”

Yes, the confrontation was unequal. The determined effort of a hundred armed countrymen, the cries of Viva Santiago Apóstol! and Death to the heretics! were not enough to hold back that barrage for long. Olavarría retreated with his blandengues. The howitzers were abandoned. Confusion and panic spread. Suddenly, Pueyrredón and twelve horsemen appeared, launching a fierce charge against the enemy artillery, seizing a cart of ammunition. A bullet struck down Pueyrredón’s horse, but a comrade saved him. The English were victorious but stunned by the audacity of Pueyrredón’s men, among whom was Cornelio Zelaya. He was “one of the few intrepid ones who charged the enemy at my side,” Pueyrredón himself would later say. Palomares confirmed that Zelaya had been “one of those who helped seize the ammunition cart taken from the enemy.”

Pueyrredón, Zelaya, Francisco Orma, Francisco Trelles, José Bernaldez, and Miguel Mejía Mármol headed to San Isidro, where they boarded a boat that took them to Colonia, from where they would return with Liniers’ expedition.

Meanwhile, the scattered men from Perdriel regrouped at the Chacra de los Márquez (Boulogne, Thames Street, between Fondo de la Legua and the Panamericana), where they would meet the expeditionary forces.

When the time came for accusations and justifications, the Catalans blamed the failure at Perdriel on Trigo’s incompetence: “he is a thief who has squandered all the money for the reconquest” and, on the eve of battle, allowed gambling, drunkenness, and the constant presence of “women for dancing and jokes” in the camp. No less scathing were the accusations against Vázquez, who, coming into the city every night, “would speak at gatherings about everything that was being planned” with reckless carelessness. Sentenach added that, while the battle was raging, Vázquez appeared at Fornaguera’s house “dressed in an old poncho, a polished felt cap, and some sandals tied with leather strips”; and to avoid danger, he disguised himself as a friar and disappeared until after the reconquest when he reappeared in uniform once more.

Without adding or removing anything, we suppose that these disputes were influenced by the rivalry between the Catalans and the followers of Pueyrredón. This rivalry had a colorful outburst once in the hallway of Llach’s house when he, unwilling to send his men to San Isidro under Liniers’ command, lost his temper at a pestering interlocutor and responded, “flipping his fingers under his chin” three times: “Do you know what I will give Señor Liniers? A garlic!” (we record the euphemism as it appears in a famous lawsuit later aired publicly). “I do not work for others to take the glory!”

As events accelerated, the Catalans hurried to gather their men in Plaza Nueva (on today’s Carlos Pellegrini Street, between Cangallo and Sarmiento) and sent them to Retiro under Liniers’ command.

August 12

The hour of the reconquest had arrived. On one side were the victors: some disinterested, others ambitious, some opportunists, others dead. On the other side were “the heretics” and the traitors. Núñez recounts that gangs mercilessly targeted those “who had acted as informers” or aided the enemy with “other vile tasks,” dragging them out to be prosecuted, stripping them of everything—“even the iron bars from their houses.”

In that world of joy and tears, of shouts and silences, like a reawakening of the old virreinal Buenos Aires, stood, proud, that reckless young man whom Liniers had praised so highly for being “one of the citizens of this capital who fought most fervently from the beginning to free it from enemy rule.”

Thus had Cornelio Zelaya begun his service to his homeland. He would continue for many years, selflessly. At the end of them, he found himself alone with his memories, in poverty and obscurity. “Even the gold medals with which my homeland decorated me—I had to sell them for trinkets to feed my family…”

 

Source

Barrionuevo Imposti, Victor – Un combatiente de Perdriel.
Efemérides – Patricios de Vuelta de Obligado.
Todo es Historia – Año XV, Nº 178, marzo de 1982.
www.revisionistas.com.ar

Se permite la reproducción citando la fuente: www.revisionistas.com.ar

Malvinas: A Study Case (1/3)

Malvinas: A Study Case
Part 1/3
Sigue en Parte 2 - Parte 3
By Harry Train,
USN Admiral

This analysis covers the Malvinas/Falklands Conflict chronologically, from the preceding incidents to the conclusion of the Battle of Puerto Argentino/Port Stanley. Strategically, it examines the conflict across general, military, and operational levels, taking into account each side’s operational concepts and strategic objectives. This approach provides a balanced view of the strategies and tactics employed, highlighting the complexities faced by both Argentina and the United Kingdom in one of the most pivotal conflicts of the late 20th century in the South Atlantic.

In the Southern Hemisphere, it’s known as the Falklands Conflict; in North America and Europe, the South Atlantic Conflict. The British refer to it as the "South Atlantic War."

At the National Defense University in the U.S., where I teach the Final Course for newly promoted generals and admirals, we cover two case studies of special interest: one is the Grenada crisis, which we study and discuss to learn from the mistakes made by U.S. forces, despite achieving objectives. Many of my students, having fought in Grenada, tend to justify their decisions emotionally, rationalizing choices that, in hindsight, were suboptimal.

For this reason, we teach a second case where the U.S. was merely an observer: the Falklands Conflict. Rich in political-military decisions and full of errors and miscalculations on both sides, this case offers our generals and admirals an opportunity to examine a complex diplomatic framework and see how political factors, some still overlooked, led to the failure of diplomacy and ultimately to war. This conflict also allows for the analysis of an unprecedented military-political phenomenon: one side still operated under crisis management rules while the other was already at war.

This case also lets U.S. generals and admirals consider the benefits of joint defense structures by examining Argentina's new joint command system, which was joint in name only. The conflict also held lessons for the U.S. Congress in organizing our national defense and showed the impact of chance on the outcome of war.

— Would the results have been different if British television had not mistakenly reported the deployment of two nuclear submarines from Gibraltar towards South Georgia on March 26?
— Would the results have been different if the weather had not been calm on May 1?
— Would the results have changed if the 14 bombs that penetrated British warships had exploded?
— Would the outcome have been different if the Argentine Telefunken torpedoes had functioned properly?
— Would the British response have been the same if not for the coal miners' strikes in Britain?

The conflict also provides a retrospective view of crucial decisions, such as Argentina’s failure to extend the Port Stanley runway to accommodate A-4s and Mirages, the lack of heavy artillery and helicopters delivered to the Islands between April 2 and 12, the division of Argentine forces between East and West Falklands, the decision not to exploit British vulnerability at Fitz Roy and Bluff Cove, and the British decision to attack the cruiser General Belgrano.

We also examine how the land war might have unfolded if the Argentine forces from West Falkland had been in San Carlos, forcing the British to establish their beachhead on West rather than East Falkland.

My vantage point during the conflict was as Commander-in-Chief of the U.S. Atlantic Fleet and Supreme NATO Commander in the Atlantic. My role was solely observational, overseeing a conflict between two valued allies. As my friend Horacio Fisher, then an Argentine liaison officer on my staff, can attest, we received little information on the war’s progress at my Norfolk command. There, our assessments foresaw an Argentine victory until the conflict’s final weeks, as we were unaware of certain pivotal decisions that later proved us wrong.

What I’ll share with you is my personal view of the Falklands Conflict, a product of months of studying reports, records, and interviews with the main leaders from both sides. This study has been challenging, as reports and interviews often reflect conflicting perspectives on key political and military events. This is in itself instructive, illustrating the "fog of war." In my research, I’ve had full access to Argentine and British leaders, documents, and post-conflict analyses.

As I recount this painful chapter in history, you will mentally analyze how each side adhered to military principles such as objective, offense, mass, maneuver, simplicity, security, surprise, economy of force, and unity of command.

While the complete study follows a detailed chronology of events based on records from both sides, initial analyses for students are based on a series of essays I’ve written that address various aspects of the conflict. These include the diplomatic prelude, the collapse of deterrence due to perceptions of British defense policy after World War II, initial recognition of the issue, both sides’ initial planning, and the Davidoff incident.

Understanding the Problem

If successive Argentine governments ever considered using military force as a supplement to or substitute for diplomatic efforts to reclaim sovereignty over the Falklands, these actions were discouraged by the perception of British military capabilities and their willingness to use those capabilities to defend their interests. At no time before the deployment of Argentine forces to Port Stanley on April 2, 1982, did the Junta believe the British would respond with military force. Nor did Argentine military leaders at any point before or during the conflict believe that Argentina could prevail in a military confrontation with Great Britain. These two beliefs shaped Argentina’s political and military decision-making process before and during the conflict.

The conflict was the result of Argentina’s longstanding determination to regain sovereignty over the Falklands and Britain’s ongoing commitment to the self-determination of the islanders. For many years, this balance was maintained due to a confluence of personalities and political attitudes on both sides, the Falkland Islands Company’s influence over policy decisions in London, and shifting perceptions of British military power and national interest. These factors set the stage for the decisions that ultimately led to war.

Additionally, Britain’s Conservative Party, facing internal labor unrest and weakened by public discontent, was under pressure. The British Navy’s fear of losing its significance added to this complex decision-making environment. About one thousand lives were lost in the conflict, nearly one for every two island residents. Thirty combat and support ships were sunk or damaged, and 138 aircraft were destroyed or captured. Britain successfully defended the islanders’ "interests," while Argentina’s efforts to regain sovereignty failed. In the aftermath, the British Navy regained prestige in the eyes of political leaders, and Argentina transitioned to civilian governance.

Most writings on Falklands sovereignty devote hundreds of pages to the 150-year diplomatic struggle. Argentines place great emphasis on each step of this process and hold a firm belief in diplomacy, though they recognize the importance of military capabilities as a complement to diplomacy. They see military strength as potentially giving diplomacy a "slight elbow nudge" within certain limits and without crossing the threshold of war. The British, on the other hand, are masters of diplomacy and the use of military force in the classic Clausewitzian sense—as an extension of the political process, regardless of whether or not the threshold of war is crossed.

Argentina’s leadership during the conflict reflected a viewpoint of having “too much history not to act.” In the U.S. and Great Britain, we say that one begins their history with each war, making accounting and decision-making simpler. Whether or not these Argentine viewpoints are historically accurate is irrelevant; what matters is that these criteria had a profound impact on Argentine decisions in the prelude to the conflict.

Of particular interest to military professionals is the gap between the assumptions underpinning British and Argentine decision-making. Between the occupation of the islands on April 2 and the sinking of the Belgrano on May 2, Argentine authorities operated under the belief that they were managing a diplomatic crisis, while the British acted on the conviction that they were at war.

Argentina’s political objective was "a diplomatic solution to regain sovereignty over the islands." Britain’s objectives were "defend the interests of the islanders and punish aggression."

One could argue that Argentina lost the war between April 2 and April 12 by failing to use cargo ships to transport heavy artillery and helicopters for their occupation forces, as well as heavy equipment needed to extend the Port Stanley runway, which would have allowed A-4s and Mirages to operate. The indecision, rooted in Argentina’s preconceived notion that defeating the British militarily was impossible, was a dominant factor in the final outcome.

The Davidoff incident

The Davidoff incident is crucial for understanding the Falklands conflict; it served as the "spark" or, as Admiral Anaya put it, the "trigger." Post-war perceptions of the Davidoff incident in Britain and Argentina differ significantly. Here’s what I believe happened:

In September 1979, Constantino Sergio Davidoff signed a contract with a Scottish company, transferring the equipment and installations of four whaling stations in Leith on South Georgia Island to him. This contract gave him the right to remove scrap metal from the island until March 1983. The Falklands authorities were informed of this contract in August 1980.

The 1971 Communications Agreement allowed travel between the Falklands and Argentina with only a white card. However, in response to UN Resolution 1514, the British registered South Georgia as a separate colony from the Falklands, governed directly from Britain, though administered by the Falklands government for convenience. Argentina rejected this colonial status claim, arguing that South Georgia, like the Falklands, had always belonged to Argentina and therefore could not be anyone's colony.

The problem arose when Davidoff visited Leith for the first time to inspect the installations he had acquired and intended to remove due to their scrap value. British authorities in Port Stanley maintained that no one could disembark in South Georgia without first obtaining permission at the British Antarctic Survey base in Grytviken, also on South Georgia, where passports would be stamped. Argentina, however, argued that the white card sufficed for entry and exit, per the 1971 Agreement.

There remain many unanswered questions regarding the timing, authenticity, and notification to Argentina of Britain’s claim to South Georgia as a separate colony. It is worth noting that both countries interpreted the situation differently. Curiously, Britain chose to enforce rigorous procedures regarding visits to South Georgia just as it was benefiting financially from unrestricted travel enabled by the white card.

The incident formally began when Davidoff left Buenos Aires on the icebreaker Almirante Irizar, which he had chartered, and arrived in Leith on December 20, 1981. Having informed the British Embassy in Buenos Aires of his plans, he traveled directly to Leith without stopping in Grytviken for permission—likely unaware of this requirement—and then returned to Argentina.

Governor Hunt of the Falklands apparently learned of the visit through reports that the Almirante Irizar was in Stromness Bay and from people in Grytviken who reported someone had been in Leith. It seems probable that the British Embassy in Buenos Aires did not inform Hunt. Hunt urged action against Davidoff for bypassing the regulations, but London instructed him not to create issues.

The British ambassador protested to the Argentine government over the incident on February 3, warning that it should not happen again. This protest was dismissed on February 18.

Davidoff apologized at the British Embassy for any inconvenience caused and requested detailed guidelines on how to return to South Georgia to dismantle the installations properly. The embassy consulted Governor Hunt, who did not respond until after Davidoff's departure on March 11. On that day, Davidoff formally notified the British Embassy that 41 people were onboard the Bahía Buen Suceso, an Argentine Antarctic supply vessel. Information about their arrival should have been provided before their landing in Leith on March 19, bypassing Grytviken once more. The workers raised the Argentine flag.

 

War Triggers- The Argentine Viewpoint

Argentine authorities describe the events of March 19, 1982, as "the trigger." Although these events in South Georgia were far from forcing the key military episode beyond which there was no way out but war—and therefore do not fall into the category of a war starter—March 19 was certainly the spark for a cascade of confrontations and political-military decisions that set the stage for war to begin.

The British reaction to the Davidoff incident led Argentina to adjust its planning. The British Antarctic Survey's message from South Georgia reporting that "the Argentines have landed" polarized British reaction in London. In Buenos Aires, the Junta began considering the possibility of occupying the Falkland Islands and South Georgia before the British could reinforce them. Vice Admiral Lombardo was ordered to urgently prepare Operation Malvinas. Orders and counter-orders ensued.

The British government deployed HMS Endurance to South Georgia to remove the Argentine workers. The British were unaware that Argentina had canceled its initial plan to include military personnel in Davidoff’s legitimate project, but they did know of the Argentine Naval Operations Commander’s directive for two frigates to intercept HMS Endurance if it evacuated Argentine civilians. However, they were unaware that this order was later rescinded by Argentine political authorities, who feared a military confrontation.

Argentine personnel from the Alpha Group, initially intended to participate in Davidoff’s operation, were now redeployed to South Georgia as events unfolded and landed there on the 24th from the ARA Bahía Paraíso. A brief de-escalation occurred on March 25 when Britain learned of ARA Bahía Paraíso’s presence and authorized it to stay until March 28. During this time, Davidoff presented an explanation of his operation to the British Embassy.

The trigger was a (later proven false) report on British television that two nuclear submarines had departed Gibraltar for the South Atlantic. Argentine authorities took this information as accurate. Not wanting to risk a landing operation in the face of a British nuclear submarine threat, they calculated the earliest possible arrival date for the submarines. They were convinced that, from that point on, these submarines would remain stationed there for several years. Argentine authorities likely did not even know the exact time of the submarines' departure.

The Argentine public's support for what was seen as a valid commercial operation under the 1971 Communications Agreement framed a narrative of strong national interest against what was perceived as waning British interest. In an "now-or-never" mindset, the Junta ordered the execution of Operation Malvinas, setting April 2, 1982, as D-Day.

Operation Rosario 

The occupation of Port Stanley on April 2, without any British bloodshed, was a model operation—well-planned and flawlessly executed. The 700 Marines and 100 Special Forces members landed, achieved their objectives, and re-embarked as they were replaced by Army occupation forces. The Naval Task Force provided both amphibious transport and naval support.

I do not cover Operation Rosario in detail in this study because it was impeccable. What follows, and the absence of a conceptual military plan for subsequent operations, are of greater interest to my students. Here are two notable incidents:

1. On the afternoon of April 2, the Argentine Air Force in the Falklands initially denied landing authorization to an F28 carrying the naval aviation commander. The aircraft was eventually allowed to land after a 45-minute delay.

2. On April 2, the Argentine Air Force requested that the Joint Chiefs transport aluminum sheets to the islands by sea to extend the runway and expand the aircraft parking area for operational planes.

The ARA Cabo San Antonio transported LVTs and members of the 2nd Marine Infantry Battalion to the islands.

Performance of Argentine Transport Authorities

This marked the beginning of Argentina’s struggle to establish effective cooperation among its armed forces. The incident involving landing authorization for the naval aviation commander at Port Stanley symbolized what would soon become a significant coordination issue. The naval transport of runway materials highlighted an inability to set proper logistical priorities for the islands' support.

At that point, the Military Junta was increasingly concerned that resupplying the Falklands would pose a serious risk, as they hoped for a diplomatic solution. With British submarines expected to arrive in the area, any merchant vessel en route to the islands could become a target, risking an escalation they wished to avoid. Thus, resupply had to be limited to what few ships Argentina could load and dispatch before the submarines' estimated arrival.

Giving high priority to artillery and mobility support for the islands—particularly aluminum planks to extend the runway and heavy equipment to facilitate their installation—was crucial. The planks alone were useless without the necessary machinery. Failing to prioritize cargo and maximize the limited transport capacity proved a critical flaw, severely impacting both the naval and land campaigns. It’s worth noting that active U.S. involvement in the conflict became inevitable once extending the Port Stanley runway was no longer feasible.

Triggers of War - The British Perspective

When the South Georgia incident occurred, British Defense Secretary John Nott, Chief of the Defense Staff Admiral Sir Terence Lewin, and Fleet Commander Admiral Sir John Fieldhouse were attending the NATO Nuclear Planning Group meeting in Colorado Springs, where I was also present. As the crisis intensified, these key figures were dispersed: Admiral Lewin traveled to New Zealand, Admiral Fieldhouse to the Mediterranean, and Nott to Europe. During their ten-day absence, the UK observed Argentina escalating its claims.

Demonstrations had erupted in Argentina, and the country’s presence in Thule and South Sandwich was public knowledge in London. The Argentine occupation took place on a Friday, and with key members absent, the British War Cabinet set their objective: "Secure the withdrawal of Argentine forces and restore British administration in the islands."

Recognizing political, economic, and military constraints within Britain, the War Cabinet ordered the British Task Force to set sail on Monday. The fleet embarked, and commercial ships were requisitioned, despite uncertainty about the extent of the effort required. The government’s guiding concept for the operation became "deter and repel," forming the foundation of their initial response.

Argentine Naval Strategy

In Buenos Aires, naval authorities established their strategy:

• Carrier-based interdiction of maritime communication lines was considered and discarded.
• The use of docked vessels in the Falklands as mobile batteries was also considered and dismissed.
• Ultimately, Argentina adopted a “fleet in being” strategy, keeping a reserve fleet for potential postwar Chilean aggression. Avoiding direct naval battles, Argentina opted for a war of attrition—a prudent decision in hindsight.
• The Argentine Navy’s main objective was to inflict damage on the British Landing Force during disembarkation, when British forces would have limited freedom of maneuver.
• Additionally, Argentine concerns about fleet survival were heightened by U.S. Admiral Hayward’s assertion that satellites could track the Argentine fleet’s location at all times.

British Naval Strategy

British naval authorities developed a four-phase strategy to ensure an appropriate force structure:

• Phase One began on April 12, with nuclear attack submarines patrolling west of the islands to enforce the Exclusion Zone.
• Phase Two started on April 22 with the arrival of surface units and lasted until the landing at San Carlos on May 21. The mission was to establish air and maritime superiority in preparation for the landing, marked by a “war at sea” period. During this phase, South Georgia was recaptured, and the ARA Belgrano, HMS Sheffield, and Isla de los Estados were sunk.
• Phase Three began with the May 21 landing, lasting until May 30, focusing on establishing a beachhead, supporting ground troops, and providing air defense. HMS Ardent, Antelope, Coventry, and Atlantic Conveyor, as well as the Argentine vessel Río Carcarañá, were sunk during this phase.
• The Final Phase started on May 30, lasting until the ceasefire, with the mission of supporting ground operations and protecting maritime communication lines. During this period, the British landing ship HMS Galahad was sunk.

Sinking of the ARA Belgrano

On May 1, Vice Admiral Lombardo planned an operation to distract the British Task Force, which, according to Argentine intelligence, was preparing a landing on the Falklands that day. Lombardo’s idea was to form a pincer movement with Task Force ARA 25 de Mayo approaching the Exclusion Zone from the north and Task Force ARA Belgrano from the south, both outside the zone, forcing the British Task Force to abandon its support for the landing.

As ARA 25 de Mayo prepared to engage, the winds calmed, and technical issues limited the ship’s speed to 15 knots. Forecasts indicated continued calm for the next 24 hours, forcing Argentine A-4s to reduce their bomb load from four to one per aircraft. Doubts about the effectiveness of an attack with such a limited payload and reports that the British had not landed as expected led to the order for both task forces to retreat westward.

The ARA Belgrano had maneuvered around the exclusion zone, heading east and then north between the Falklands and South Georgia, to divert British attention from the impending landing and the presence of the 25 de Mayo. Sensing a real threat to his forces, Admiral Woodward requested and received authorization from London to attack the ARA Belgrano outside the exclusion zone to neutralize the risk.

When HMS Conqueror attacked and sank the ARA Belgrano, the Argentine cruiser had been heading westward for fourteen hours. With the sinking of the ARA Belgrano, all hopes for a diplomatic solution faded, marking the start of the naval war.

Maritime Exclusion Zones and Other Navigation Restrictions

The concept of a Maritime Exclusion Zone, as imposed by the British during the conflict, is neither new nor fully understood by all military and political leaders. The pros and cons of a “sanitary cordon” have been debated within NATO for years. Similar terms, such as “Maritime Defense Zone,” have been examined legally and analyzed militarily, with significant disagreements among lawyers regarding its legality under international law, as well as its tactical and strategic value.

Declaratory in nature, like its distant relatives the Blockade and Quarantine, a zone must be announced with clear geographic limits, effective dates, and the types and nationalities of ships and aircraft it applies to.

The blockade, a more traditional military term with a solid basis in international law, is typically defined as a wartime action aimed at preventing ships of all nations from entering or leaving specific areas controlled by an enemy.

The terms pacific blockade and quarantine evolved from blockade laws, with the key distinction being that they are not intended as acts of war. Instead, military action is only anticipated if the targeted state resists. The term quarantine gained prominence in October 1962, when the U.S. president proclaimed a strict quarantine of all offensive military equipment bound for Cuba.

 

Boletin del Centro Naval 748 (1987)