GC-83 Río Iguazú: The Cutter that did not Surrender
The icy winds of the South Atlantic cut like blades against the skin of those brave sailors aboard the Río Iguazú. They were not on a warship. They had no armor, no firepower comparable to that of a destroyer, no speed to match that of a frigate. They were men of the Argentine Coast Guard, servants of the sea, embarked on a mission that, unbeknownst to them, would turn them into legends.
Since their arrival at Puerto Argentino (previously Stanley) on April 13, 1982, the GC-83 Río Iguazú had eluded the invisible threat of British nuclear submarines. A small, agile vessel designed for coastal patrols, it now sailed defiantly in those hostile waters, ready to fulfill its duty. On May 22, with the war already raging and the blood of battle still fresh on the Malvinas soil, it was given a critical mission: to transport two 105mm Oto Melara howitzers from Puerto Argentino to Darwin. These artillery pieces would be vital for the defense of the Argentine troops who, just days later, would fight bravely in Goose Green.
Under the command of Sub-Prefect Eduardo Adolfo Olmedo, the Río Iguazú set sail in the early hours of that fateful day. Fifteen men on board. Fifteen souls devoted to their country. They knew they were sailing in enemy-controlled waters. War offered no mercy, and neither would their adversaries. At 08:20, the ship’s radio crackled to life, delivering a chilling message: Red Alert!
The attack came instantly. Two British Sea Harrier jets swooped down from the gray sky, their roar shaking the very air. The men on deck barely had time to react before a storm of fire rained down upon them. The 30mm cannons ripped through the ship’s hull, destroying navigation equipment and sowing chaos aboard. In the engine room, Second Corporal José Raúl Ibáñez fought desperately against the flooding that threatened to doom the vessel. But the damage was beyond repair—the water was rising fast.
On deck, resistance had a name and a face. Julio Omar Benítez, the youngest crew member, manned one of the ship’s two 12.7mm machine guns, the only defense against the enemy aircraft circling above like hawks. But fate was merciless. A British volley struck him down where he stood. His body collapsed beside the weapon he had so valiantly fired. Nearby, Juan José Baccaro and Second Corporal Bengochea lay wounded, their blood soaking the deck.
The Río Iguazú was critically damaged, but it would not surrender. Olmedo, his resolve unshaken, ordered a desperate maneuver—set course for the nearest islet, zigzagging to evade another deadly pass from the Harriers. Every second counted.
And then, Ibáñez, his heart pounding with rage and grief, made a decision that would change everything. Leaving the flooded engine room, he climbed to the deck and rushed toward the unmanned machine gun. With swift hands, he pulled his fallen comrade’s body aside and gripped the weapon. His eyes locked onto the sky.
A Harrier was lining up for the final strike. Ibáñez held his breath. He squeezed the trigger. A hail of bullets erupted, tracing a path of fire through the air. The aircraft, caught in the storm of gunfire, began spewing thick black smoke. For a brief, eternal moment, it seemed to hover in midair, before gravity took its toll—it plunged into the sea, vanishing beneath the icy waves.
The surviving Harrier pilot, seeing the fate of his wingman, turned away and disappeared over the horizon.
The battle was over. The humble patrol boat had struck down a titan.
Severely damaged, the Río Iguazú was deliberately beached on a nearby islet to save the remaining crew. The survivors were later rescued and taken to Darwin, where, on May 24, with full military honors, Julio Omar Benítez was laid to rest. His sacrifice had not been in vain. The artillery pieces that the Río Iguazú had been transporting were salvaged and flown to Darwin, where they would play a crucial role in the upcoming battle.
Thus ended the journey of the patrol boat that dared to defy the impossible. It was not a warship. It was not a heavily armed frigate. But it was Argentine. And that was enough to carve its name into history.
Camaraderie and commitment in the fight for Mount Tumbledown
The little-known story of soldier Horacio Balvidares
On the night of June 13, the battle for Tumbledown, an Argentine defensive position in the path of the British advance towards Puerto Argentino, began. It was a battle that both sides remember as very hard, fierce, with a lot of automatic weapons fire and hand-to-hand combat.
View from Mount Tumbledown
The troops of the 5th Marine Infantry Battalion, the 4th Infantry Regiment and the 6th Infantry Regiment gave ample evidence of their determination and bravery in the face of an equally determined and brave enemy. For two days the Army men had been fighting at close range, and under the cover of their own Artillery they tried to recover physically while perfecting their positions.
English drawing about Tumbledown combat
The remnants of Company "B" of the 6th Infantry Regiment were waiting on Wireless Ridge for their turn to engage. They could not determine where the enemy would come from, but the sounds of the increasingly violent fighting made it clear that action would soon begin. They were ordered to block the flank of a Marine section on Tumbledown Mountain and began to advance in the darkness broken by flares.
A soldier is wounded in the legs and Private Adorno bravely goes forward to help him. Before reaching the position he is shot and seriously wounded in the arm, falling onto the rocks.
Private Horacio Balvidares assists him and carries him to the rear, on foot and with his companion on his shoulder, he travels kilometers from Tumbledown to the entrance of the town of Puerto Argentino. There they are met by a nurse who had gone ahead.
After handing over his wounded comrade and despite having reached an area far from the combat, with greater safety, he turned around and began to return to his section's positions, knowing the danger of crossfire and hand-to-hand combat, so it was that while returning he was mortally wounded by an enemy artillery shell.
A brave man who rescues another brave man. A soldier who returns with determination to the place of danger. Soldier Balvidares left an indelible mark among his comrades and saved a life that is still remembered, thanked and paid tribute to.
Brave, generous, good comrades and, above all, respectful of the oath to the flag of their country; that is what our men were like in Malvinas.
Malvinas: The Dramatic Story of the Regiment That Withstood Brutal Isolation and the Dangerous Mission to Resupply Them
They were stationed at Puerto Howard, on West Falkland Island. Resupplying them was an almost impossible task. The soldiers of the 5th Infantry Regiment (RI5) wrote one of the most grueling chapters of the Malvinas/Falklands War. Infobae Docs gathered three veterans who revealed their fierce and uneven battle against an implacable enemy—isolation.
By Adrián Pignatelli || Infobae
The Sea Harrier Shot Down with a 1936-Made Machine Gun. The captured pilot could not believe that he had been downed by such an outdated weapon.
Located on Gran Malvina (West Falkland), Howard was, in 1982, a small port on the San Carlos Strait. A cove provided shelter and allowed ships to dock. The local population was small and primarily engaged in sheep farming and wool shearing, with the final product shipped to Great Britain. The islanders had limited opportunities for development, as the economy assigned married residents a fixed number of sheep, and a single official acted as both the local administrator and the manager of the wool trading company.
It was an extremely remote location where residents stayed informed solely through British radio relays. There was no television, primary school, or secondary school.
This was the site selected for the 5th Infantry Regiment (RI5) to counter a potential enemy landing. This regiment would go down in history as the unit that endured the longest period of isolation during the Malvinas/Falklands War.
On April 25, upon arrival at Port Stanley, RI5 was airlifted to Puerto Howard in three helicopter waves, except for 108 men from Company B, who traveled by ship transporting rations, ammunition, and anti-personnel mines.
Howard was renamed Puerto Yapeyú, as in peacetime, Company C of this regiment was based in the town where General José de San Martín was born.
RI5 Soldiers Boarding in Comodoro Rivadavia for the Airlift to the Malvinas
The soldiers carried a single ration of food. It was imperative to supply them with the necessary provisions, along with heavy weapons and ammunition, to endure the harsh weeks of isolation ahead.
They were still unaware that the resupply would never arrive.
The following day, in Howard, two and a half lambs were purchased from the locals to supplement the soldiers' rations. Meanwhile, in Puerto Argentino, the Monsunen, a 30-meter vessel confiscated from the Falkland Company, set sail at night. It was loaded with ten days' worth of supplies, weapons, and ammunition.
The plan was to skirt the island northward and enter the San Carlos Strait. However, strong winds and tides made this route impossible. The only alternative was the longer and far more dangerous southern route—navigating around the island while avoiding mines laid by the Argentine Navy and knowing that, in broad daylight, they would be completely exposed to enemy aircraft. The mission had to succeed, as on the 27th, food rationing had already begun in Puerto Yapeyú.
That night, the Monsunen was forced to take shelter in a small bay after the radar detected what was possibly a submarine. The ship’s only defenses were two MAG machine guns and two rocket launchers. By midday the next day, the vessel finally managed to dock at the pier in Puerto Yapeyú.
Alberto Miñones Carrión: Severely Wounded in Malvinas, Lost a Leg—“It Is a Special Honor to Have Been Part of This Campaign”(Santiago Saferstein)
At the time, Alberto Miñones Carrión was a young second lieutenant. He was in charge of the Support Section of Company A, RI5, and his unit was reinforced with two Colt 12.7 mm machine guns. He recalled, “From the moment we arrived, we knew resupply would be difficult—to the point that the provisions we expected the next day never arrived. As the days went by, the situation worsened, and with the arrival of more personnel, it became truly critical.”
The occupation of the area was gradual. Initially, a 130-man company was deployed. Later, the regiment’s other two infantry companies, along with two engineer sections and medical personnel, arrived—bringing the total to nearly 800 men.
The Isla de los Estados: Attacked While Carrying Supplies for the Troops—Only Two of 25 Crew Members Survived
On the night of May 10, the frigate HMS Alacrity attacked the transport ship Isla de los Estados in the middle of the San Carlos Strait, as it was en route to Puerto Yapeyú carrying supplies and weapons.
Of the 25 crew members, only two survived.
Hours later, Argentine troops discovered squash floating near the shore—part of the ship’s lost cargo. These were mashed and added to the regiment’s already scarce rations.
Hugo Gargano, Quartermaster Second Lieutenant During the War: “We Had Only Two Field Kitchens for 150 Men” (Santiago Saferstein)
"Cooking a lamb was a challenge since we had to use peat as fuel, which has very low caloric value. On top of that, we only had two field kitchens for 150 men. But the ingenuity and skill of the quartermaster personnel led us to clean out 200-liter fuel drums, and that’s how we ended up eating lamb stew with a hint of fuel taste. Heating those drums was extremely difficult, and fires had to remain extinguished for most of the day," explained Hugo Gargano, Quartermaster Second Lieutenant of Regiment 5, the unit’s only officer in that specialty.
When supply issues worsened, Gargano was in Puerto Argentino, trying to find a way to reach Gran Malvina. The RI5 commander, Colonel Juan Ramón Mabragaña, persistently requested a Quartermaster officer from the III Infantry Brigade’s commander.
"I asked every day to go to Howard," Gargano told Infobae. "On the 21st, I ran into a major who told me, ‘You have no idea how much your regiment commander is asking for you,’ but we couldn’t coordinate my transport."
Today, Juan Ramón Mabragaña, Surrounded by His Soldiers, Who Recognize “A Leader Who Cared for His Men”
"The next day, they came to pick me up in a vehicle. 'You have 15 minutes to be at Moody Brook and board a helicopter heading to Howard with supplies, weapons, and ammunition,' they told me."Hugo Gargano reported to Major Roberto Yanzi from Army Aviation.
At that moment, he had no idea he was about to embark on a journey he would never forget.
Flying to Howard
Major Roberto Yanzi was the second-in-command of the 601st Combat Aviation Battalion. He had arrived in the islands on April 7. He explained, “We had to make the most of the flight. We loaded ammunition, mortars, and medical supplies. We also took two soldiers from Regiment 5. Three Puma helicopters would fly, with an Augusta in the rear for escort, armed for protection.”
Before takeoff, Yanzi gathered the crews and briefed them on the mission. “I listened as they spoke—we were about to embark on a high-risk flight, as the day before, the British had landed at San Carlos. The 7 or 8 minutes it would take to cross the strait would be crucial.”
The mission launched on May 22.
A stopover was always made at Goose Green, where Task Force Mercedes had a garrison. However, upon arrival, the helicopters were forced to remain grounded—Sea Harriers were constantly patrolling overhead.
Yanzi knew that flying under those conditions meant taking an extreme risk.
Roberto Yanzi, Army Aviation: “When We Reached Howard, We Celebrated Because We Were All Still Alive”(Santiago Saferstein)
"The memory of the downing of AE 505 on May 9 was still fresh, when First Lieutenants Roberto Fiorito and Juan Carlos Buschiazzo, along with Sergeant Raúl Dimotta, lost their lives. Additionally, Army Aviation faced a serious limitation: fuel shortages," recalled Major Roberto Yanzi.
The weather conditions were also poor, with constant fog and mist. “At 10:30 on the 23rd, we took off, flying just one meter above the ground to avoid detection by enemy radar and maintaining radio silence. When we reached the strait, we saw the Río Carcarañá billowing smoke” (the vessel had been disabled by two Sea Harriers on May 16).
“It’s an Honor to Die with You”
As they were about to finish crossing the strait, the armed escort helicopter issued a warning:
“Aircraft! Aircraft! Hit the deck!”
Two Sea Harriers were approaching. The first helicopter was piloted by First Lieutenant Hugo Pérez Cometto, the second by First Lieutenant Enrique Magnaghi, and the third by Major Roberto Yanzi, who later recounted to Infobae:
The Arrival of the Río Carcarañá Crew
"Pérez Cometto, in an outstanding maneuver, managed to evade the enemy aircraft, while Magnaghi and I crossed the channel and landed. Almost immediately, I saw a fireball coming from Magnaghi’s helicopter, which had flipped over—he had lost control as the aircraft spun on its axis. At the same time, the Sea Harriers opened fire on me with their 30mm cannons, hitting the tail of my helicopter, which still had its rotors spinning. That’s when I ordered Gargano to disembark as fast as possible."
"It was a moment of intense adrenaline. I opened the hatch, jumped out first… we ran and threw ourselves flat on the ground as the Sea Harriers strafed us," recalled Gargano.
The three of them lay prone as enemy rounds impacted all around them. At that moment, Yanzi spoke:
"Take my hand, don’t look back—it’s an honor to die in war with you."
"That’s when I fully realized the situation we were in. Once the aircraft had passed, we ran and moved away from the helicopter," the officer recounted.
Yanzi had no idea what had happened to the rest of the crews until he heard the distinctive whistle of Private Elvio Nis, a skilled tracker from Paso de los Libres, which helped reunite the personnel.
"You can imagine our joy when we realized that not a single crew member had died. Magnaghi had a fractured clavicle, and Godino, one of the mechanics, had suffered a severe head injury," Yanzi explained.
"We Were All Alive"
Determined to complete the mission, Yanzi burned his Puma AE 500 to prevent it from falling into British hands, salvaging only the machine gun. The remaining crews and part of the cargo were loaded onto the only operational helicopter—Pérez Cometto’s Puma.
They took off, hoping to avoid enemy aircraft en route to Howard, as Radio Colonia had reported that three helicopters had already been shot down by Harriers.
Yanzi recalled, "When we arrived, it was an overwhelming joy. We hugged each other—we were all alive."
On the morning of May 26, the helicopter crews embarked on the risky return flight to Puerto Argentino, departing at 0500 hours. They transported members of Compañía Comando and a captain who had ejected from his aircraft.
"It was a gamble," admitted Yanzi. "We were packed in tight. We flew at extremely low altitude and managed to land. Without realizing it, we had just completed the last flight to Gran Malvina."
Years later, Gargano connected via social media with one of the Sea Harrier pilots, David Morgan, who had long wondered about the fate of the Puma crews. "He felt great relief upon learning that we had survived," Gargano shared.
Fighting in Howard
Now retired Lieutenant Colonel Miñones described the precarious situation the regiment faced in the event of a British attack:
"The heavy equipment couldn’t be transported. We lacked artillery pieces. When we crossed, I managed to bring short-range 81mm mortars, which served as our heavy weaponry for a long time. That’s why we kept requesting 120mm mortars. The 4th Artillery Battery never arrived."
RI5 Soldiers in a Trench at Puerto Howard
They had to fight with whatever was available.
Using Colt 12.7mm machine guns manufactured in 1936, they managed to shoot down a Sea Harrier and repel an attack from a Sea King helicopter. Miñones recalled, "When we captured the pilot, he told us he felt a rain of bullets striking the fuselage; he couldn’t believe we had taken him down with that machine gun."
Gravely Wounded
On the night of May 27, Miñones was severely wounded. He survived to tell the story.
*"A shell from a frigate conducting exploratory fire hit me while I was at the bottom of a trench. I was between First Lieutenant Daniel Stella and Orderly Soldier Felipe Fernández. The blast threw me 20 meters, flipping me in the air before I landed on my back, arms crossed over my chest. I entrusted myself to the Virgin Mary and prayed an Ave María, thinking I was dying.
In the darkness, I reached for my right leg—it was still there. When I checked the left, I felt a bare bone. I felt no pain. That’s when I realized I was alive and had another chance."*
During that same attack, soldiers Fernando Damián Francolino, Francisco Manuel Machado, and Ricardo Manuel Herrera were also wounded.
The Rescue of British Lieutenant Jeff Glover After Ejecting
"I was evacuated to a very rudimentary field hospital, run by Major Dr. Reale, a brilliant trauma surgeon. In addition to my leg wound, I had a puncture in my hip and another in my chest. With the limited supplies he had, he operated on me and sutured my femoral artery."
Given the severity of his injuries, a rapid evacuation would have been the norm, but Miñones recounted:
"For ten days, I lay on a wooden door propped up on two apple crates. There were no painkillers, no plaster, yet the doctors managed to make do."
Jeff Glover’s Arrival at Puerto Howard
On May 29, it snowed for the first time in Puerto Yapeyú. The temperature dropped to -18°C, and the overall condition of the troops was critical.
"Those days were terrible. The wounded were housed in a wooden shack that shook with every bombardment. I felt completely exposed since I couldn't move. As shrapnel pierced the wooden walls—on one occasion, two fragments passed right by my head—I asked my comrade, Eduardo Gassino, for a helmet."
But Miñones’ hardships didn’t end there.
"Food was extremely scarce, and due to my condition, I couldn’t eat lamb. It was Eduardo Gassino who, every day, brought me a sort of broth with bustard meat—a local bird—using an empty soda can."
Finally, on June 6, he was evacuated to the Bahía Paraíso, which had been converted into a hospital ship. Also evacuated were soldiers Exequiel Vargas, Eduardo Rubiolo, Mariano Leiva, and Fernando Francolino.
The Hospital Ship Bahía Paraíso
"When I arrived on the mainland, I weighed 42 kilos, down from my normal 68. I hadn’t even realized how much weight I had lost. I needed to recover before undergoing a major surgery. For two months, my prognosis was poor due to an infection in my leg, but I was given another chance—and I survived."
Both Gargano and Miñones hold Colonel Juan Ramón Mabragaña, their regimental commander, in the highest regard.
"He stood out for his humility and prudence, for the precision of his decisions. Beyond the war, he was a model soldier and a remarkable person. He took veterans’ needs seriously—securing jobs, medicine, and even medical evacuations, often out of his own pocket. He reaped what he sowed."
The three veterans also paid tribute to the 23 crew members of the Isla de los Estados, who died while attempting to deliver supplies.
What Does Malvinas Mean?
For Yanzi: “A feeling and a great pride to have been part of it.”
For Gargano: “It remains a daily battle—to ensure recognition for the veterans who fought there.”
For Miñones: “It is a very special honor to have participated in this campaign and to have lost a leg. It helps me emotionally. What I carry deep inside—and hope to pass on to my children—is something that changed my life for the better.”
The Counterattack of the "3 de Oro" (Golden 3) (Part 1)
By Lt. Col. (R) (Malvinas War Veteran) Víctor Hugo Rodríguez
The author served in the Malvinas as a First Lieutenant, Chief of the 1st Section of Company "A" of the 3rd Mechanized Infantry Regiment "Gral. Belgrano," nicknamed "3 de Oro" (Golden 3) during the Triple Alliance War, due to the yellow breastplate that adorned their blue jackets.
June 13, 1982, 22:00 hours — Tumbledown Hill, overlooking Moody Brook Valley. To the left was Longdon; in front, the 7th Infantry Regiment of La Plata was enduring relentless fire for two days, June 11th and 12th. It was hell. Positioned 100 meters above them and 5 kilometers away, we witnessed how the British enemy left no centimeter unscathed by naval, artillery, and mortar fire. It was clear they were preparing an assault on the regiment's heights. Occasionally, they turned their attention to us, a forewarning of their advance towards Tumbledown.
Below Longdon, Captain Soloaga—a war hero who carried his Sanmartinian values into peace—"clung like an oyster" to the rocks. His men were already fighting, enduring an infernal bombardment day and night. From our vantage point, we watched, both awestruck and helpless, as their resilience unfolded. Occasionally, patrols emerged—but only to retrieve their fallen and place them in an abandoned ambulance stuck in the valley's mud before returning to combat. Watching them march back into that artillery barrage was profoundly moving. At 22:00 hours on June 13th, Captain Zunino, commander of Company A "Tacuarí" of the "3 de Oro," summoned us. A remarkable officer for wartime, Zunino convened 2nd Lt. Dobrovevic (support group leader), 2nd Lt. Mones Ruiz (2nd rifle section), Sub-Lt. Aristegui (3rd section leader), and me (1st section leader).
“We need to support the 7th Regiment, which is under attack on those heights,” he said.”.
We knew the terrain only by sight—no reconnaissance had been done. The day before, we had deployed to Tumbledown, abandoning previous positions. Defending our spot against the expected assault the next day was our sole focus. Our positions consisted of low rocks; our aluminum screw-shovel “Tempex” tools had broken within a week, unable to withstand the greda soil. Digging foxholes was impossible. Equipment? Just a blanket, a shared tent cloth, and only five magazines per soldier. Night vision? Only the captain had one. Radios? None. Batteries were dead, leaving us with no communication within or outside the company. To supplement ammo, I ordered rounds carried in socks tied around our necks.
Aristegui, a 4th-year cadet serving as a "commissioned sub-lieutenant" in the Malvinas, was barely older than his soldiers. Yet, he was an example of leadership. I said,
“Aristegui, form up. You take the right, and I'll take the left. Let's cross the valley quickly and head for the heights.”.
The battlefield was chaos—roaring, blazing, hellish. Longdon, the valley, Wireless Ridge where the 7th Regiment was positioned, Port Argentino, Mount Williams—all were alight with tracer rounds and rocket fire. It was full-on war, the final assault. We waded through a freezing brook, soaked to the waist. Snow fell. The cold? I can’t remember. The adrenaline heated our bodies.
From the valley, we realized the heights, where the 7th Regiment was supposed to meet us, were instead occupied by British forces, firing rifles and rockets at the abandoned Royal Marines barracks. Without communication, we had to resolve it on our own. I turned to Aristegui:
“The enemy’s up there. Let’s surprise them. Don’t advance straight—move to the right, gain the height advantage.”
Moments later, I heard,
“The sub-lieutenant’s been hit in the neck!”
I ran to him, blood pouring from his neck, when one of his men, slapping his cheek, shouted:
"You’ve been good to us, kid. We’ll get you out of here."
They carried him back to safety. Today, Aristegui, nicknamed “Nono,” is an exemplary Malvinas officer, earning the respect of his soldiers at just 19 years old. The bullet had pierced his neck, narrowly missing his spine..
Still in the valley, the enemy illuminated us with flares. Forty of Aristegui’s men and forty of mine were exposed. Knowing artillery fire was imminent, I ordered an assault on their positions, 100 meters above us on Wireless Ridge’s heights. Seconds later, an artillery barrage rained down where we had stood moments earlier. The shells exploded 50 meters overhead, showering us with lethal fragments.
“Charge!” I yelled. There was no other option to reach the heights and support the 7th Regiment. What a sight—my soldiers and Aristegui’s, running uphill, driven by sheer determination. “Cata” Carballo, my speedy aide; “Mono” Paz, my radioman without a radio; Aumasane, Izaguirre, “Bombón” Díaz, Juan Fernández—young men from Buenos Aires, cold, hungry, yet filled with love for their country, surging from the valley to claim that piece of Malvinas soil.
They were just 18 years old. They had little food, no communications, yet an unyielding spirit. To think the tabloids later dismissed them as mere “boys of war”...
Perón, Surrounded by His Ministers, Listens to the Report from General Arnaldo Sosa Molina (Ilustración: Isidoro Ruiz Moreno, La Revolución del 55, Tomo I)
A striking aspect throughout the conflict was Perón's peculiar behavior. His reticence and silence puzzled many, as he delegated full command to General Lucero. “Both supporters and opponents were baffled by his passivity, while battles that would determine the Nation's future—and his own—raged fiercely by air, sea, and land,” remarked one historian.
The man who once led Latin America’s most transformative social revolution, challenged the United States and the Allied powers after World War II, and attempted to create a "Fourth Reich" in Argentina by bringing Axis scientists and war criminals to the country, now seemed hesitant and devoid of initiative. His fiery rhetoric of the past still resonated, chilling citizens with its violent tone: "You ask me to fight? Why don’t you start yourselves?" (May 1, 1953), "The day hanging begins, I’ll stand with those doing the hanging!" (August 2, 1946), "They’ll have to kill me fighting!" (August 13, 1946), "We’ll raise gallows across the nation to hang the opposition!" (September 11, 1947), "We’ll distribute baling wire to hang our enemies!" (August 31, 1947), and his infamous declaration, "For every one of us, five of them will fall!" Yet, now, the man who had once uttered these words with conviction appeared paralyzed.
This mysterious inaction, paired with his silence since the hostilities began, began to irritate even his closest allies. Major Carlos Aloé, Governor of Buenos Aires Province, could not understand why Perón remained in his heavily guarded residence, avoiding both military command and leveraging his powerful influence over the Armed Forces and the public.
General Raúl Tassi, head of the National Defense School, observed Perón’s behavior during a meeting at the underground bunker of the Ministry of the Army, where the Communications Center of the Repression Command was based. The meeting, convened by General Lucero, brought together senior military leaders to monitor the ongoing conflict. Perón arrived accompanied by generals and colonels, visibly distressed and, by all accounts, frightened. His demeanor worsened upon learning that the Cuyo Army had also joined the uprising. At that moment, whatever composure he had left completely absent.
At the headquarters of the 1st Army Division in Palermo, General Ernesto Fatigatti requested authorization from Perón to lead the 1st and 2nd Infantry Regiments (then in reserve) in a march on Córdoba to crush the revolution by midday on September 21. However, Perón—once renowned for his oratory skills, his ability to captivate and inflame the masses—offered no response. Instead, he nervously smoked, drank coffee, and remained silent.
Years later, Perón’s nephew and aide-de-camp, Major Ignacio Cialcetta, revealed that the dictator “did nothing.” He left all decisions to Lucero and, while not entirely defeated in spirit, seemed detached. Perón reportedly spent two nights hiding in a house in Belgrano and, according to other accounts, in the nuclear bunker he had built beneath the Alas building—a claim without concrete evidence, though rumors also suggested he used it during the June 16 bombings.
Despite having capable and loyal generals—Lucero, Fatigatti, Iñíguez, and Sosa Molina—Perón failed to act. His attitude infuriated Interior Minister Dr. Oscar Albrieu, who met with him at the Government House in the early hours of September 19. Albrieu urged Perón to take charge of the repression, arguing that the situation was deteriorating. Yet, the president remained inert. Ruiz Moreno captures their exchange in his work, highlighting Perón’s indecision at a critical juncture:
-"General, don’t lose focus. Let’s return to the Ministry of the Army. Things there are not being handled properly."
-"And what do you want me to do?" Perón replied.
-"General, I believe you should assume command of the Repression Forces and announce on the radio that you will personally take command in Córdoba. I’m certain that would put an end to all of this.".
These words displeased Perón, who responded badly.
-You don't know the generals. I think they are handling things well. Besides, I don't like the fact that they kill the little soldiers. I prefer things to stay that way.
So it was Albrieu who expressed his annoyance.
-General, we are at war! I would even be justified in saying that the non-commissioned officer who kills a rebellious officer will take his place in the ranks...! I will take any measure to defend a constitutional government!
Despite the gravity in Albrieu’s tone, Perón did not react, effectively ending the conversation on the spot.
Meanwhile, General Lucero worked tirelessly, determined to crush the uprising as swiftly as possible. On the 18th, one of his first actions was to reinforce the units engaged in repression by calling up the 1931, 1932, and 1933 conscript classes in the First and Second Military Regions under the command of Lieutenant General Emilio Forcher. This measure bolstered key units, including the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Infantry Regiments, the 2nd Artillery Regiment, the Regiment of Mounted Grenadiers, and the Motorized Regiment "Buenos Aires." Together with the security companies tasked with guarding arsenals, military factories, and depots, these reinforcements brought troop numbers to 18,000, not counting an additional 1,200 volunteers.
By Monday, the 19th, Perón arrived at the Ministry of the Army before 6:00 AM, accompanied by Governor Aloé. In Lucero’s office, Generals José Domingo Molina, Commander-in-Chief of the Army, and Carlos Wirth, Chief of Staff, informed him that the situation on the front was favorable and that the rebellion’s suppression was only a matter of hours. However, the leaders of the repression failed to recognize a critical error: by not ordering a final offensive with the requisite force, they allowed the revolutionaries to regroup. Hoping to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, they opted instead to pressure the rebel forces with sheer numbers, aiming to convince them of the futility of resistance. This half-measure was a serious misstep, as the revolutionary forces were resolute and prepared to fight with unrelenting ferocity, as demonstrated by General Lonardi’s fiery speech on September 16.
Perón had every advantage. His forces surrounded Córdoba and Bahía Blanca, the Cuyo troops were wavering, and no other garrison had declared against him. The Fleet posed the only significant threat, but the Air Force and Naval Aviation were expected to neutralize it.
Given these circumstances, the Peronist high command began to feel confident, even euphoric. However, in the middle of the meeting, Perón abruptly called for silence and requested to be left alone with Lucero and Aloé.
Confused but compliant, the senior officers exited the room, waiting in the antechamber in a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As the door closed behind them, they had no idea that the final chapter of the crisis was about to unfold.
Once alone, Perón announced that he had decided to resign.
-We already know that these barbarians will have no scruples about doing so (he was referring to bombing the cities of La Plata and Buenos Aires). It is necessary to avoid massacre and destruction. I do not wish to be a factor in such savagery being unleashed on the innocent city, and on the works that we have worked so hard to build. To feel this, it is necessary to know how to build. Parasites hardly love the work of others.
Lucero and Aloe were speechless, astonished and confused. They remained like that for a few moments until Lucero broke the silence to express that he was in solidarity with his boss and that, consequently, he would also resign. However, he immediately seemed to react and, trying to convince Perón, he expressed his opinion, proposing the creation of an operations force under the direct orders of the president based on the First Army Division, declaring at the same time Buenos Aires an open city, defended by elements of the General Maritime Prefecture, the National Gendarmerie, the Federal Police and the Armed Forces (the latter in small numbers), all of them supported by Peronist militiamen. However, his words were of no use. Under the pretext of avoiding a useless shedding of blood and the destruction of what he considered his “masterpiece”: the oil installations in La Plata, Perón repeated that he had decided to leave power. Lucero insisted again, explaining that the rebellion was practically under control and that it was only a matter of hours before both Córdoba and Bahía Blanca fell (he knew perfectly well that the Army of Cuyo did not constitute any threat). But even so, Perón maintained his position and withdrew, ordering a meeting of generals for that same afternoon.
Two hours later, the still-President of the Nation sent Lucero a handwritten note addressed to the Army and the People. In it, he announced his resignation and declared that he was leaving everything in the hands of the Army, the only entity he deemed capable of taking control of the situation and achieving the much-desired pacification of the country.
With the note in hand, Lucero summoned Vice President Rear Admiral Alberto Teissaire, Minister of the Interior Dr. Carlos Albrieu, and CGT Secretary General Héctor Di Pietro to his office. After informing them of its contents, he opened the floor for their comments. Di Pietro stated that if this was the general's will, the workers would comply, as they had always followed Perón's wishes. Expressing solidarity with his leader, Lucero immediately drafted his irrevocable resignation and then summoned General José Domingo Molina, entrusting him with organizing a Junta of Generals to take charge of governance and peace negotiations.
At 12:55 PM, Radio del Estado, broadcasting nationwide, issued a message that shocked both the revolutionary leaders and the broader population. General Lucero invited the rebel commanders to the Ministry of the Army to begin discussions aimed at pacifying the country and finding a resolution.
This announcement stunned General José María Sosa Molina, commander of repression in Córdoba, who could hardly believe what he was hearing. His astonishment was so great that he initially thought it was a tactic to confuse loyalist forces. “With victory practically in his grasp, Perón walked away,” Sosa Molina would later recall. “...With the battle nearly won, my commanders informed me they had heard the ceasefire order on the radio. I couldn’t believe it. We had everything in our hands, and now we were being told to hold our positions.” It wasn’t until he heard the resignations confirmed on the radio later in the afternoon that he accepted the situation.
A similar reaction came from the resolute General Iñíguez, who was leading his forces in a rapid advance toward central Córdoba. As his troops pressed forward, a messenger rushed to his position with an order to halt the attack and news that a junta of generals had assumed control. When Iñíguez learned that government forces were to cease all hostilities, hold their positions, and await further instructions, he was left dumbfounded.
At 2:27 PM, General Lucero's message, broadcast on Radio del Estado, was answered by Admiral Rojas aboard the La Argentina. Rojas announced that military operations would be suspended until midnight on September 19 and that the requested meeting would take place aboard his ship, anchored at the mouth of the Río de la Plata, rather than at the Ministry of the Army, as Lucero had suggested. Meanwhile, from Córdoba, Lonardi issued a statement signed as the leader of the "Revolución Libertadora," demanding the immediate resignation of the President and his entire cabinet. Distrustful of Perón, Lonardi took precautionary measures to ensure the revolution's success.
Notes
Isidoro Ruiz Moreno, op. cit, Cap. 9, Tomo II.
Ídem, p. 315, Tomo II.
It was the first time ever to use this designation.
Malvinas: A Study Case Part 1/3
Sigue en Parte 2 - Parte 3 ByHarryTrain, 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:
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.
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.
The Telegraph
reports that the British National Army Museum has published its
shortlist of the greatest battles in British history. The public will
vote, either online or at the museum, on which one is the greatest.
The battles, in chronological order:
Battle of Blenheim, August 13, 1704, at Blenheim, Bavaria (War of the Spanish Succession)
Battle of Culloden, April 16, 1746, at Drumossie Moor in Scotland (Jacobite Rebellion)
Battle of Plassey, June 23, 1757, at Plassey in West Bengal, India (Seven Years War
Battle of Quebec, June 13, 1759, outside of Quebec City in Canada (Seven Years War)
Battle of Lexington, April 19, 1775, at Lexington, Massachusetts (American Revolution)
Battle of Salamanca, July 22, 1812, at Salamanca, Spain (Peninsular War/Napoleonic Wars)
Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815, at Waterloo, Belgium (Napoleonic Wars)
Battle of Aliwal, January 28, 1846, at Aliwai in Punjab, India (First Sikh War)
