Guerrero: A Soldier with a Missile as Sword

Miguel Vicente Guerrero, the patriot who dreamed of a strong Argentina: the life, science and sovereignty of the “father” of the Condor II

To speak of Commodore Miguel Vicente Guerrero is to speak of one of those extraordinary Argentine figures who, even after having devoted their intellect, vocation and life to the service of the Nation, did not always receive in their own country the recognition they deserved. A soldier, scientist, strategist, teacher and nationalist, Guerrero was far more than the principal driving force behind the Condor II missile project: he was a man convinced that Argentina had to develop its own power, its own technology and its own defence capability in order to cease depending on others and to act in the world with sovereign dignity.

Born on 26 July 1943 in Caucete, San Juan, his life was marked from childhood by a national tragedy: the devastating San Juan earthquake of 15 January 1944. Guerrero survived that disaster, which destroyed the province and claimed the lives of thousands of Argentines, among them two of his younger sisters. That early wound, shaped by pain, loss and the harshness of a country that so often forced its sons to rise again from the ruins, seems to have forged in him a singular strength. From a very young age, he understood that life demanded fortitude, sacrifice and a sense of mission.

He studied on a scholarship at the Military Lyceum of Mendoza and later joined the Argentine Air Force, where he began a brilliant career. He qualified as an electronic and aeronautical engineer, graduating from the Military Aviation School, and his outstanding performance quickly placed him among the most promising officers of his generation. In 1964, while holding the rank of second lieutenant, he travelled to the United States on a scholarship to further his education. Years later, in 1974, he returned to specialise in missile technology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), one of the most prestigious institutions in the world, where he graduated with the highest academic distinction. That period abroad did not turn him into a technician in the service of foreign interests; on the contrary, it reinforced his conviction that the most advanced knowledge had to be placed at the service of Argentina.


Guerrero was an electronic and aeronautical engineer, graduating from the Military Aviation School.

Guerrero belonged to that rare breed of men who understood that science and national defence were not separate worlds, but parts of one and the same historical task. For him, a nation without technological capability of its own was a vulnerable nation. And a vulnerable nation, sooner or later, falls subject to the will of others. That idea would become central to his life’s work.

His name became permanently associated with the Condor project, and especially with the Condor II, one of the greatest technological achievements attained by Argentina in strategic matters. At the Falda del Carmen facilities in Córdoba, within a highly secret complex under Air Force control, Guerrero led, together with Argentine technicians, scientists and military personnel, an undertaking of enormous scale: to develop a vehicle with an indigenous projection capability, combining spatial, scientific and military deterrent applications.



The project did not emerge from nowhere, nor was it a mere military whim. It was the product of a comprehensive vision of the nation. On the one hand, it sought to provide Argentina with the capability to place satellites into orbit by national means, that is, to advance towards space autonomy. On the other, it offered a concrete instrument of deterrence against external threats, especially after the Malvinas War, when the brutal asymmetry between Argentina and a NATO power such as the United Kingdom was painfully laid bare.



Miguel Vicente Guerrero during his time at MIT (the Massachusetts Institute of Technology), where he graduated in Missile Technology in 1974

Guerrero clearly understood something that many political leaders never wished to understand: the recovery of bargaining power vis-à-vis the British occupier could not rest solely on diplomatic declarations, but also on the construction of national power. His reasoning was underpinned by impeccable geopolitical logic. If Argentina possessed a system capable of representing a genuine threat to the British military posture in the South Atlantic, London would be forced to increase enormously the cost of maintaining its occupation of the islands. And when the cost of an occupation becomes too high, politics begins to shift. This was not a reckless impulse, but a deterrence strategy aimed at narrowing the military gap and bringing the United Kingdom to the negotiating table from a different position.

For that reason, many quite rightly regard him as the “father of the Condor II”. For he was neither a secondary figure nor a mere administrator: he was one of its central minds, one of the men who gave direction, shape and strategic purpose to one of the most ambitious projects in the history of Argentine technology.

His career, however, did not end there. Guerrero also served as President of the National Commission for Space Research (CNIE) and was a pioneer of Argentine satellite telecommunications, in addition to working as a university lecturer and later as Dean of the Faculty of Science and Technology at the University of Salvador. In other words, he did not think only in terms of defence: he also sowed knowledge, trained professionals and helped to build lasting scientific capabilities for the country. His patriotism was not rhetorical; it was concrete, technical, institutional and profoundly Argentine.



During the Malvinas War, moreover, he served as a Major in the Argentine Air Force and took part in the planning of air missions. Once the conflict had ended, he joined the Rattenbach Commission, tasked with analysing responsibilities and assessing the conduct of the war. He had fought, he had thought deeply about defence, and he had contributed to the subsequent critical evaluation. He was, in short, a man of complete military integrity: committed to the Nation before the conveniences of the moment.



Bunker for the launch and control of the Condor missile at Cabo Raso, Chubut.

Yet, as so often happened in Argentina to those who dared to build real sovereignty, Guerrero’s fate ended up being marked by the political pettiness of an era. The Condor project, which had advanced significantly and aroused the concern of foreign powers, was ultimately dismantled during the government of Carlos Menem, within the framework of automatic alignment with the United States and Great Britain. The names of Domingo Cavallo, Guido Di Tella and the pressures exerted from the American embassy became associated with that decision, which brought to an end one of the country’s most promising strategic developments.


He studied on a scholarship at the Military Lyceum of Mendoza and later joined the Air Force.

It was not merely the closure of a programme: it was the deliberate renunciation of a historic opportunity for autonomy. And, as if that were not enough, Guerrero was not honoured for having carried out with distinction the mission that the State itself had entrusted to him; instead, he was punished by being forced into retirement, while the teams of technicians and scientists who had made that achievement possible were broken up. The paradox was scandalous: Argentina penalised one of its most capable officers for having succeeded in a task of vital importance to the national interest.


The Civil Association Friends of Cabo Raso were the driving force behind the tribute and also built a cenotaph in memory of Commodore Guerrero..

Even so, Guerrero did not yield. And it is here that the moral dimension of his character reappears. After his retirement, he received offers to continue his career in the United States, including in academic circles. He could have chosen prestige abroad, the comfort of foreign recognition, or the ease of a life detached from Argentine frustrations. He did not do so. He chose to remain in his country and to devote his knowledge to the education of new generations. He was a lecturer, dean, director and teacher. He continued serving the Nation from the classroom and from science, with the same loyalty with which he had once served in uniform.



Those who knew him remember him as a noble, brilliant, sober man, deeply committed to the Fatherland. He was neither an improviser nor an adventurer: he was a consummate professional, a serious strategist, a respected scientist and an Argentine firmly convinced that sovereignty is not begged for, but built. In times of cultural dependence, he championed national development. In times of political subordination, he thought on a grand scale. In times of resignation, he placed his faith in an Argentina that was capable.

His death, in August 2019, passed for many almost in silence, as though the nation’s forgetfulness were determined to repeat one of its worst habits: forgetting its finest sons. Yet the figure of Miguel Vicente Guerrero withstands that oblivion. He lives on in every Argentine who understands that there is no independence without science, that there is no effective diplomacy without power of one’s own, and that there is no future for the Nation if those who worked to make it freer, stronger and more respected are held in contempt.




To remember Commodore Miguel Vicente Guerrero is not merely to do justice to an exceptional man. It is also to recover a central lesson for contemporary Argentina: countries that renounce their strategic talent, punish their patriots and surrender their technological capabilities without resistance condemn themselves to impotence. By contrast, those peoples who honour their men of science, their honest servicemen and their builders of sovereignty keep alive the possibility of standing up once again.



The Condor II on its service tower.


Miguel Vicente Guerrero was one of those indispensable Argentines. A man from San Juan marked by tragedy, shaped by excellence, devoted to service, a leading figure in national defence, a driving force behind space and missile development, and an example of fidelity to the Fatherland. His life shows that Argentine greatness is not an empty nostalgia: it is a concrete possibility whenever men emerge who are willing to think, work and sacrifice for it.



And if Argentina should ever decide to rediscover its destiny as a sovereign, industrial, scientific and respected nation, it will have to look again towards figures such as his. For there, in men like Guerrero, there still beats an idea of the country that never surrendered.


En el 2016 recibió una distinción por su carrera en la Fuerza Aérea

Argentine Naval Aviation: Remembering a Great Pilot

Remembering a Great Figure of Naval Aviation

By Malvinas War Veteran (VGM) René Augusto Gómez

  

Early one afternoon in 1980, I left Comandante Espora Naval Air Base to enjoy a spell of leave in Bahía Blanca. Once outside the gate, I decided to walk along the road for a bit—just to breathe in a little freedom—until the bus that took me into town came by. After only a short distance, a car horn startled me. I turned, and at once I knew who it was. If you can picture one of those cars from the old black-and-white series The Untouchables, you’ll have a fair idea of the one I mean. The officer had been my boss in the First Attack Squadron at Punta Indio; and now, promoted, he was training on the A-4Q. When he recognised me, he pulled over.

“Off to Bahía, Gómez? Get in!” he said with a grin.

Pleased by the invitation, I sat down beside him and we set off. Almost immediately I felt a certain embarrassment, because I hadn’t the faintest idea what a mere Cabo Segundo could possibly talk about with an officer I respected deeply. They were two worlds—distant, and very different. Even so, I answered his questions about where I was going and the like, and before long we were having a genuinely pleasant conversation.

At some unknown junction on the outskirts of Bahía, a red light brought us to a halt. I looked left and right, and when I saw how deserted it was, I glanced at the officer in genuine puzzlement. Inside my head the question was: “If there’s no one coming, why doesn’t he go? Who would dare stop him for it?”

“The rules are there to be obeyed,” he said, barely looking at me.

I was astonished. It was as though he’d read my mind. And the strange thing is I didn’t think, “Blimey, what an upright chap.” Instead, his behaviour made me feel like a petty corrupter of traffic laws. Then, out of nowhere, a little boy—poor as the day is long—came up to his window.

“Got a coin for me, sir?” he asked, hand out, without any gesture or flourish.

The light had already changed ahead of us. I assumed the officer would give him one of the coins lying in plain sight and we’d carry on. But the car didn’t move.

“What’s your name, lad?” the officer asked.

“Rodrigo, sir,” the boy replied.

The officer reached into one of the many pockets of his green flight overalls, pulled out his wallet, and without hesitation took out what today would be the equivalent of a modest ten-peso note.

“Here you go, Rodrigo,” he said. “And behave yourself, all right?” At last he smiled.

The boy took the money and vanished with the same skill with which he’d arrived. My inner shame—having dismissed him in my mind—made me look away. “If I don’t learn something valuable for my future from this trip to Bahía, I’m an idiot,” I told myself. And another thing struck me too: it was uncommon for an officer to offer a lift to someone like me, who—apart from the odd sailor—ranked about as low as you could be in the pecking order. It confirmed what I’d already suspected: his manner (that exotic car, and the ease with which he moved among both the “top” and the “bottom”, among other things) wasn’t snobbery. It was simply the way he lived.

Once in Bahía, I sat on a bench in the square and thought about what I had just experienced. I’ve always been the sort of person who notices good conduct. And as for that officer, above all he seemed to me an excellent human being—someone worth taking as an example in a world where you’re often made to believe that “being better than others” means running red lights, or cleverly ignoring the needs of those who have least.

And that is why he deserves this tribute I’m paying him today, in 2006—so many years later. Because that Gentleman Lieutenant, with a capital G and a capital L, whom I’m speaking about, was never killed by the British. I kept him alive all these years. And I haven’t said his name yet—deliberately.

Among my notes from those days there are two other anecdotes that show his philosophy and unusual character even more clearly. One happened in 1978. As a pilot in the First Attack Squadron, he agreed to take one of my mates up with him on an acrobatic training flight. “Big-Nosed Reynoso” was flying in an Aermacchi for the first time. To make the story clear, I need to explain what an anti-G suit is. It’s not a full-body garment; you strap it over your flight overalls using Velcro fastenings. A hose protrudes from it and connects to the side of the seat in the aircraft. Through that hose it receives air from the engine automatically, but only when the aircraft is manoeuvring with or against the force of gravity. As it inflates, it compresses the main arteries and prevents sudden shifts of blood from causing physical effects—grey-outs, blackouts, and the like. And you should know this: the longer and more sustained the aerobatic manoeuvre, the stronger the pressure the suit exerts on the body.

The anecdote is that, during the flight, while they were holding a fairly steep and sustained inverted turn, Big-Nosed Reynoso couldn’t take the pressure any longer and over the intercom he blurted out:

“Sir, sir! It’s squeezinnng me!”

To which the Lieutenant replied, laughing, imitating Reynoso’s suffering voice:

“Me toooo!”

The other anecdote is from 1979. We were at Río Grande Naval Air Base, about to return to Punta Indio in a B-200 after a tasking down there. A Vice Admiral was travelling with us, so we had to form up at the foot of the aircraft like an honour guard—four Cabos Segundos travelling with him. The problem was I’d mislaid my white cap, and I was in a state about it.

Soon the officers arrived: the pilots, my mates’ chiefs, my chief, and the very senior flag officer. They stopped in front of us; the three Cabos saluted—except me, because I had no cap. The Vice Admiral looked at me and, in a foul mood, snapped at the officers:

“Whose man is this?”

My Lieutenant answered immediately: “He’s with me, sir.”

“Why are you without your cap, Cabo?” the Vice Admiral demanded.

“No excuse, sir!” I shouted, feeling the second-hand embarrassment of my comrades.

“When we get to Buenos Aires, I want an exemplary punishment for this man, Lieutenant!”

“Understood, sir,” my chief replied.

We boarded the aircraft. Naturally, the Cabos took the rear seats. At one point my chief turned round and, very quietly, said to me: “What are you playing at, Gómez?” I didn’t know what to say. One advantage of being dark-skinned is that you can go bright red and nobody notices.

The next day, at Punta Indio, Captain Espina called me in. He was a particular character too, and he always made me feel that, in some way, he rather liked me. He didn’t call me by surname or rank; on top of that, he addressed me informally. Once we were alone, he said:

“RRRéné!”—he always rolled the R when he said my name—“You absolute fool. How on earth do you show up without your cap, of all times, right in front of a Vice Admiral?”

“I lost it, sir! I don’t know what came over me!”

“As if there aren’t more important things… and that bloke gets worked up about a Cabo without a cap!” Then, lowering his voice, he added: “Honestly, I think it’s utter nonsense that he demanded we give you thirty days in the nick for that stupidity. Your chief asked me not to punish you, because he says your performance in the squadron is good. But you do realise, RRRené, I’m sticking my neck out here.”

In the end, Captain Espina decided I’d get five days’ confinement.

For all of this, today I feel like shouting at them—from this humble corner, as an apprentice to life that I still am:

“Gentlemen of England: in that cold autumn of 1982, near the San Carlos Strait, you shot down and sent to the icy waters of the ocean an old A-4Q combat aircraft of the Third Naval Air Squadron of Fighter and Attack. But do you know what? Although the records say that aircraft was flown by Lieutenant (JG) Marcelo ‘LORO’ Márquez, it’s NOT TRUE. What you brought down that day was only an empty old aeroplane. Those of us who knew Lieutenant Márquez up close are convinced he wasn’t there. He surely lives on in the memory of a humble lad from the outskirts of Bahía—the very boy to whom he gave a note that probably lasted him no time at all, while what he gave me that day was an example that lasted me my whole life. Some green light must have let him pass so that his decency could continue beating inside the philosophy of life of this humble servant. Because the laws of God that govern those men who leave indelible traces will always be there to be obeyed. I am sure his anti-G suit will never squeeze him again. And when the troops formed up on the seabed shout ‘Preseeeent!’ each time the god Neptune speaks his name—me toooo!”

“No, gentlemen. You did not manage to bring down Lieutenant (JG) Marcelo Márquez. However much it pains you, he is still alive—just like that old cap, now yellowing, which he ordered me to buy back in ’79 and which I still treasure, with the greatest honour, in my sock drawer.”

Sarmiento and Patagonia

The historian Luciana Sabina analyzes the controversy that involved Domingo Sarmiento regarding the Patagonian lands and Chile’s claims over them.
Luciana Sabina || Memo




Map of the Southern Cone from 1849

Exiled in Chile, Sarmiento paid close attention to the colonizing expedition that the country sent to the Magellan region in 1843, founding Fuerte Bulnes. By 1848, that settlement moved a few kilometers, taking the name Punta Arenas. The occupation was based on the legal principle of res nullius (of no one), universally accepted at that time, according to which any nation could take possession of inhospitable spaces. Like it or not, the entire Patagonian territory was considered an empty space, lands in indigenous hands that had never been conquered by the Spanish, and because of this, they did not belong to the Río de la Plata or to Chile. They would belong to the first to settle there.

It was only five years later that Rosas, through the Foreign Ministry, presented Chile with a formal protest, claiming Argentine rights over the area. As a result, on March 11, 1849, Sarmiento published a first article on the matter in his newspaper La Crónica, titled “The Magellan Question.” There, he defended the Chilean position. Being fair and objective, he pointed out that since 1585 no one had established occupation in the area; that the act of sovereignty by Chile had been repeatedly mentioned in the press and in presidential messages; despite which the Restorer [Rosas] did not express himself. Rosas, remaining silent for years, had consented to the trans-Andean advance and was claiming something without showing titles or precedents of ownership. Furthermore, Sarmiento added, Rosas was concerned with claiming territories abroad while the heart of Argentina was a land of indigenous raids and uprisings. Consequently, he recommended the Restorer take care of populating the Chaco, Río Negro, and interprovincial borders. In other words, he reminded the government of Buenos Aires that it could not handle what it had and wanted more, only to leave it in complete neglect.



At the time, France and England—in the midst of imperialist expansion—saw Hispanic America as a set of young nations suffering the vicissitudes inherent to all infancy, and they attempted to establish themselves in the area. British, French, North American, and German maps of the time show Patagonia as res nullius, with which they could have easily occupied it. It was urgent to establish oneself in the area, and Chile was the only country with some political stability and in conditions to do so. The occupation of the mouth of the strait was surprising to the Europeans and had a deterrent effect. All of Patagonia could have met the same fate as the Falklands.

In response to Sarmiento’s publication, Rosas had a newspaper founded in Mendoza: La Ilustración Argentina. Under the direction of Bernardo de Irigoyen, he was the first to refer to Sarmiento as a “traitor.” Though for the Rosistas, anyone who thought differently was a “traitor to the homeland.”

The Restorer ended up submitting a request to extradite the man from San Juan, stating that Chile could not continue sheltering him because he disturbed the peace between the two nations, thereby violating the right of asylum. The trans-Andean authorities did not entertain the request, arguing that freedom of the press existed there.

Rosas was never able to demonstrate that the area belonged to us because, in fact, it does not belong to us. But the matter did not end there.

Three decades later, during Sarmiento’s presidency, the Chileans experienced a certain imperialist fever and claimed rights based on laughable grounds over Argentine Patagonia. To this end, they cited articles in the Chilean press from the past, in which Don Domingo had spilled his ink and ingenuity. The situation was complex for the man from San Juan: the Paraguayan War had not yet concluded, and the opposition—taking advantage of the moment—sought to tear him apart. The word “traitor” once again lashed at the colossus from Cuyo.

He then sought to demonstrate that he had never written in favor of Chilean sovereignty over our land. For this, he tasked Félix Frías—ambassador in Chile—with carefully reviewing the questioned articles. The seasoned diplomat concluded that, indeed, there was no comment referring to Patagonia. In all of them, Sarmiento referred to Chilean rights over the specific area of the Strait of Magellan. Despite this, many still consider him a traitor who wanted to give away the south.

Biography: Captain Héctor Sánchez, the destroyer of Bahía Agradable

Captain Hector “Pipi” Sanchez (AAF)

By Hernan Longoni in Historia de Aviones

1) When did he graduate from the EAM (Military Aviation School)?
December 1975.

2) What reasons led him to join the Aviation School?
He had no idea that the EAM existed, nor what the Air Force was. When my desk mate in 5th year at the Urquiza National School in San Nicolás told me that he was going to join the EAM, I asked him to explain everything related to the Air Force. Since there was the possibility of becoming a military aviator, that fact led me to decide to register to join the Institution. I made this decision almost at the end of the year, so I had to make a great effort to prepare myself to take the exams, with the help of my friend, who had already been preparing for quite some time. Later, Orlando Pons and I would graduate as Ensigns, being classmates of Class XVI.

3) What did you feel when you graduated from it?
Primarily great emotion and relief for the effort that my parents had to make to finance my studies. From that moment on, I had a salary that allowed me to support myself by my own means, without being a burden on my family. Regarding the future, everything was uncertainty and big questions. Would I be able to meet the expectations that the organization placed on me? Would I be able to fulfill my dream/vocation of becoming a military pilot? Would I be able to fly combat aircraft after achieving the goal of overcoming the demands of basic training as an aviator? I was always very aware that, above all, one was a soldier first, and then came the next goal of becoming a Military Aviator. But what decision would I have made if I had not become a pilot, and above all, a fighter pilot?

4) What rank and age did you have when the Malvinas Conflict broke out?
In 1982, I was a 1st Lieutenant in the second year (it takes 4 years in the rank to be promoted to Captain), and I was 28 years old.

5) What position and role did you have?
When the recovery of the Islands occurred, I was undergoing the adaptation course to fly Mirage III aircraft at the VIII Air Brigade. I had not completed more than 5 flights in two-seater aircraft, so I was not qualified to intervene in the conflict with these aircraft. Thanks to Captain Varela, one of the Flight Leaders of the A4-B Squadrons, and at my request, I was called to join as an attaché to the II Air Squadron to fly in the Weapons System.

6) What were the most pressing needs during the conflict from the perspective of your position?
Having accurate information on the position of naval targets, ensuring that all aircraft had the OMEGA navigation system, having the appropriate weaponry to attack naval targets, obtaining proper intelligence information on the positions of British troops after the landing, having a landing strip in the Malvinas suitable for our aircraft, and being allowed to operate from Puerto Argentino despite the risks involved, etc.
It is important to note that the primary responsibility of the Air Force is to train and equip (including weaponry) for air and air-land battles. On the other hand, the primary responsibility of the Navy is to be prepared for air-naval battles, which is why they had weaponry suited to the conflict they faced. For the above reasons, all Air Force Squadrons during the conflict had to adapt to a battle that was not their primary responsibility. The most important thing to keep in mind is that they had never trained in tactics to attack naval targets (ships), nor did they have the appropriate weaponry to attack those targets. All knowledge had to be acquired during the conflict, based on the experiences learned from each mission that was carried out.

7) Who or what was your source of confidence during the conflict?
The training and preparation I had flying the A4s, our Flight Leaders (Tony Zelaya and Trucha Varela, two idols), my Squadron Leaders, those of us who formed a combat formation every time we flew a real mission, the camaraderie and companionship that developed within the group, the Argentine people who supported the conflict to recover our Islands, and, of course, everything was ultimately in the hands of God, for the fate of my life during my engagement with the British.

8) What did your loved ones say regarding the risk?
At that time, there were no cell phones, emails, or the means of communication we have today. Everything was done by telephone, and even that was limited to those who had a phone line installed in their homes. My mother always believed I was in Buenos Aires during the development of the conflict, thanks to the collaboration of the rest of the family who maintained my deception to avoid causing her distress (my father had passed away in 1976). My family was far away and had no military background, so for them, the concept of the risk associated with military activity was difficult to grasp.

9) What do you feel about the performance of your weapons system during the conflict?
I feel proud to have been able to participate in the conflict with such an incredible human group that came together. Everyone was included: the "Gordo" Romero (the Group's doctor), pilots, technical support staff, logistics personnel, etc. Everyone was part of a perfectly functioning team where each specialty contributed its grain of sand to ensure we could fulfill the assigned missions.
In particular, the air squadrons were very united; we knew the risks we were taking and enjoyed every minute we had available when we were not engaged in aerial operations. Each of us contributed goodwill and a sense of humor to always keep the group's spirit high.
When it was time for aerial missions, we always volunteered to go on them. With my dear friend Tucu Cervera, we even argued at times to be part of certain missions.
The Air Squadrons were a perfect combat machine that, despite the old nature of the aircraft, demonstrated to the world what can be achieved with training, ingenuity, effort, sacrifice, and a will to fight.

10) Is there a specific aircraft you flew during the conflict that holds a special memory for you?
Fundamentally, the A4-B with registration number C-231, as it was the aircraft that brought me back on June 8th after surviving the attack of two Sea Harriers in Bahia Agradable.

11) Before or after the conflict, did you ever fly a mission that pushed the limits of your aircraft's capabilities?
During our preparation and training in peacetime, we always conducted long-duration navigation flights. This is part of the training for combat pilots in the Air Force, as our potential targets to attack are always located in the heart of enemy territory (runways, command and control centers, enemy power centers, logistics bases, etc.).
I have several examples of these training flights we carried out (some of them with training ammunition, as we ended the navigation flights with shooting practice in designated areas).
One of the flights I remember was from Villa Reynolds (the natural base for A4-Bs in San Luis) to the Iguazú Falls, air refueling with the C-130s, and returning via a different route to the 5th Air Brigade (Villa Reynolds).
On another occasion, we took off at night with Tucu Cervera (before dawn) from Río Gallegos (where we were deployed to train for operations in the southern part of the national territory), flew at low altitude during the night, carried out a simulated night attack on the Comodoro Rivadavia Air Base, and returned to Río Gallegos. The entire final phase of the approach and attack on Comodoro Rivadavia was carried out with the aircraft's external lights turned off.

12) Did you ever have a mission where you couldn't reach the target? What did you feel?
On June 7, 1982, we set out on a mission to attack naval targets southeast of Gran Malvina Island with Danilo Bolzan as the leader, "Conejo" Dubourg (our Squadron Leader) as Number 2, and myself as Number 3. Unfortunately, despite flying over the area, we were unable to locate any ships, so we had to return to Río Gallegos. The feeling is mixed; on one hand, there is the risk and fear that comes with the aerial formation remaining in the combat zone searching for the enemy (due to the possibility of being detected and intercepted by Sea Harriers). On the other hand, there is the frustration of not being able to locate the targets to neutralize them. Every target that was not attacked or found at the time represented an enormous risk for future attack formations heading into the conflict zone.

13) What is your relationship with your veteran comrades today?
There is a great friendship reflected in the permanent gatherings we organize to share a meal and remember the harrowing days we lived through during the conflict. Of course, our fallen friends and comrades are always present with us, remembered with affection and especially for the human qualities that characterized them. What always stands out during our gatherings is maintaining the same spirit we had during the conflict. Through jokes, songs, and good humor, we avoid dwelling on the risks we faced during those days.

14) When — if it is the case — did the war end for you?
The war still hasn't ended for me; we only lost a battle. None of the members of our group ever surrendered — we were simply ordered to suspend aerial operations. We still had the equipment and crew members to continue fighting despite the losses we had suffered up to that point (9 pilots). Today, the war must continue, even if it is through other means (for example, diplomacy or politics). The strategic objective must never be abandoned.

15) Did you have a mission assigned to be carried out after June 14, 1982, and were you surprised by the surrender?
Aerial missions were suspended on June 14. The surrender in the Islands did not personally surprise me; after the British landing at San Carlos Bay and their advance toward Puerto Argentino, without facing resistance with the available means, the outcome that occurred was foreseeable. Airpower alone is insufficient to stop a landing or the advance of ground forces.

16) Did the war end for you?
The conflict did not end, and it remains a part of my life that has not been fully closed. What's more, even today, we must fight against the forgetfulness of our blessed people regarding the noble cause that was undertaken to recover our Malvinas. I don't want to be simplistic or generalize, as there are always exceptions to the rule. It is sad to see today how divided we are in every area we observe: those who fought and those who did not; the professionals versus the conscripts; those who receive a pension and those who do not. It is truly painful to see the neglect of the effort made by those who gave their lives in combat. At the time, everyone volunteered to fight for their country, without expecting any medals, recognition, or economic compensation. It seems that today, our leaders "buy" or satisfy us with handouts, whether we are poor, war veterans (VGM), or friends of those in power. An example to follow is the one being set by the Japanese people in the face of the difficult times they are going through after the natural disasters they have had to endure. Only national unity will eventually allow us to achieve our strategic objectives, be it the Malvinas, progress and growth, stability, etc. But for that to happen, our people (including their leaders) must set aside personal and sectoral interests.

 

17) Did you go to the islands (landing) during the conflict? Under what circumstances?
No.

18) Did you go to the islands after the conflict? Why? (in case of a yes or no answer)
I haven't gone yet, but I plan to visit at some point. I would like to visit the places where I fought alongside my comrades during the conflict. Stepping on the soil of the Malvinas, even if it is not under our administration, might allow me to shed the "backpack" I have been carrying on my shoulders since the end of the conflict.

Relatos Históricos de la Guerra de Malvinas

San Martín: Tactical Genius in Crossing the Mountain Range

San Martin's genius in facing the mountain range

Revista Cumbres
Special collaboration: Esteban Ocampo


On the bicentennial of the impressive crossing of the Andes led by the great American strategist, a review of the planning and logistics devised to overcome the great obstacle.

 

The immensity of the mountain range was the obstacle to overcome.

Last February marked the 200th anniversary of the Crossing of the Andes, which General José de San Martín de Mendoza led to Chile in 1817 with the Liberation Army, in order to fight the royalists in their search for continental independence as part of his Strategic Plan.

The campaign has been highlighted on numerous occasions as one of the most intrepid, bold and strategically brilliant feats of all time.

Aside from the strictly military aspect and its political connotations of the time, it is worth highlighting logistical and planning aspects, strategies that San Martín devised to first battle the immense mountain range in the real conditions of 2 centuries ago.

“Much emphasis is placed on the crossing and the end with the battle of Chacabuco, but we must speak of the crossing as a military campaign, something specifically prepared whose consequence was the liberation of Chile. "Only in this way can the genius of a certain José de San Martín be contemplated" explains historian Esteban Ocampo, one of the members of the campaign who recreated the crossing this year, faithfully respecting the conditions of the time. (See separate)

Six columns

San Martín designed the campaign dividing the Army into six columns on a front of 800 km from the south of La Rioja to the south of Mendoza, where the southernmost group crossed.

Two of these passes were main ones through which the bulk of the Army of 2,500 men circulated. The other passes were auxiliary ones with columns that were not very numerous and with the intention of distracting and dispersing the enemy forces in specific missions -already in Chile- so that they would not have all their power at their disposal in the battle of Chacabuco.

A main column advanced along the Uspallata route under the orders of Colonel Gregorio de Las Heras together with the artillery under the command of Fray Luis Beltrán. The pass, accessible and low, was very used for trade at the time.

The other important column went through San Juan, the Los Patos route through Valle Hermoso which was divided into Ojo de Agua and Paso de Ortiz, where part of the advance party passed, and the Yaretas pass, where San Martín actually crossed.

The secondary routes were Comecaballos in La Rioja with Lt. Col. Zelada; Guana, north of San Juan under orders of Lt. Col. Cabot; Portillo-Piuquenes, through the Tunuyán valley from the Fort of San Carlos under the orders of Captain Lemos; and Planchón, south of Mendoza through the area of ​​the Peteroa volcano in charge of Lt. Col. Freyre.

 

One of the many rivers they had to wade through in the Andean campaign.

Clothing

The traditional uniforms were made of a very particular cotton cloth, a type of fabric that was thermal enough to not be too hot in summer but was warm enough in winter. Under the jacket they wore a high-necked shirt and the officers also wore a vest.

In the case of the Grenadier Regiment they received short red jackets made of sheepskin called “pellizas” that they wore as a coat over the jacket. They also wore black cloth trousers with leather reinforcement. Most of the soldiers wore Cuyo ponchos and cloth cloaks with a warm inner lining.

The trousers had a leather reinforcement to prevent wear from rubbing against the saddle in the case of the riders and on the cuff to protect the clothing from damage from the stirrups.

To keep their feet warm, each soldier used “tamangos,” a kind of sheepskin covering that was placed over their shoes, which were usually made of leather with buckles. In the case of the Infantry, they called a boot a short, mid-calf or even knee-high gaiter that went over the shoes.

For their hands they wore cloth gloves, for their heads they covered the back of their necks and ears with scarves, and on top of that they wore a “head cover,” a cap or hat, a kind of beret that they wore during training in the barracks. In other units they wore caps with sleeves that fell to one of the shoulders.

The regiments wore three uniforms: the barracks uniform, the campaign or combat uniform, and the parade or gala uniform, the latter being the most striking. The one used for crossing was the combat uniform.

At night, very simple reinforced cloth tents were set up in less than 3 minutes. They had four poles and two guy lines, one in front and one behind. Each tent accommodated 2 to 3 soldiers and they used individual saddles, fleeces and blankets as beds, and even the saddle served as a pillow. They covered themselves with the same coat as each other.

 
San Martín's first great challenge was to overcome nature.

Food

As the main food to face the crossing of the high peaks, each soldier carried a piece of charqui that they ground and cooked quickly in a kind of Valdivian broth with lots of onion and garlic for altitude sickness. They were meals in the style of carbonada or succulent stew that provided a significant amount of protein with the simplicity of preparing it in a few minutes to immediately recover strength.

The Army also carried 700 cattle on the hoof that they slaughtered as the columns advanced. Thus, fresh meat was available as a roast or stew.

Bread, flour biscuits, vegetables, nuts and a daily ration of liquor completed the diet to avoid the effects of altitude and cold, since that was what the campaign's food plan was about, which also resulted in simple and quick food to prepare.

Logistics

Each column on its march itinerary had a detailed description of each day: the points they had to join, the length in leagues, the availability of water, grass and firewood, the type of terrain and forest. This information was useful for the guides to regulate the march and thus reach the planned points.

The instructions began with the following text: “You will advance according to prudence, your experience and the intelligence you have to comply with these orders.”

Communications through messengers were also very important. It is known that San Martín sent constant messages to Las Heras to speed up or slow down the march depending on the tactics. In the diary of Bernardo O’Higgins, the vanguard of the Los Patos route, these communications are recorded, which he sent to San Martín in the rearguard.

The central concept of the plan to cross the Andes was to minimize any problem, error or imponderable when facing the mountain. In 1816, the Great General confessed in a letter to Tomás Guido that what kept him awake at night was not the opposition, what the enemy might be preparing on the other side, but being able to cross this mountain range with 5,000 men and then give battle.

The precise and coordinated arrival of the columns on February 8, 1817, to Santa Rosa de los Andes was the result of precision in communications and efficiency in planning. This made the achievement possible and led to the military triumph of Chacabuco. Crossing the mountain range having fulfilled the objectives designed was half the battle won.

 

The group that designed and carried out a historical recreation of the San Martin crossing.

A faithful recreation

A group of people who make up the Historical Cavalry Squadron crossed the Andes last February, emulating and paying homage to the liberating feat and in exactly the same conditions as the Army formed and led by General José de San Martín in 1817 did 200 years ago.

Without any technological aid, dressed in the same clothing and sleeping in period tents, on February 3, 2017 (what a date) six “reenactors,” a cameraman, and three guides who traveled through the Argentine side took the initial step from the San Juan town of Tamberías to realize a dream and a feat that they have been planning since the end of 2015.

The preparation included a lot of personal training, constant medical checkups, horseback riding practice, all to be able to face eight to ten hours of mounted marching every day at altitudes above 3,500 meters.

They used clothes made with the same fabrics used in the San Martin Army, the same tents, blankets, utensils such as lanterns, candles, sabers, all derived from a deep historical investigation to reproduce the feat faithfully.

The saddles served as beds at night, and the same poncho as a coat was a blanket to try to sleep in the middle of the relentless cold of the mountain range.

Pablo Zamprogno, Esteban Ocampo and his son Martín (10), Javier Madariaga, Guadalupe Strada and Daniel Gwaszdac are the members of the Reenactors Group of the Historical Cavalry Squadron. The itinerary was approximately the one taken by the column led by Lt. Col. Juan Manuel Cabot in 1817, through the North of the province of San Juan known as Guana Pass. After six days of travel through La Vega Grande, Los Azules, Los Esteros de la Mula and La Cuesta, they arrived at “Paso del Gordito” where Chilean authorities from Monte Patria and Ovalle welcomed them to cross the border. Then came Las Ramadas, Tulahuen, Huana, Monte Patria, Ovalle, Barraza and finally Coquimbo and La Serena, the final objective of the great enterprise, always received by the towns with great joy and emotional recognition.

The objective of the initiative was to experience the crossing of the Andes as San Martin's soldiers experienced it 200 years ago. The result, in the evaluation made by its protagonists, was highly satisfactory and a reason for greater admiration for those men who accompanied the Liberator in 1817.

Biography: Lieutenant Colonel Cruz Cañete (1815-1868)

Lieutenant Colonel Cruz Cañete (1815-1868)

Lieutenant Colonel Cruz Cañete (1815-1868)

He was born in Buenos Aires in 1815, the son of Mariano Cañete and Leonor Peñalva, both from Buenos Aires. He entered military service in June 1835 as a soldier in the 4th Campaign Regiment’s Line Squadron.

In 1837, as a standard-bearer (a rank he achieved in 1836), he participated in a battle against Chilean Indigenous groups who had attacked friendly chiefs Llanqueleu and Francisco. That same year, he fought against the same forces under Lieutenant Colonel Quesada, and later in the Battle of Loreto on December 22, 1838, against a large contingent of Chilean and Ranquel Indigenous fighters, directly under Colonel Hilario Lagos as a cavalry lieutenant. In 1842, he was severely wounded in another action against Indigenous groups, under Captain Seguí’s command.

He continued his service at Fort Junín until 1844 as a lieutenant, then transferred to San Nicolás under Colonel Juan José Obligado’s command, where he remained until June 12, 1845. He subsequently served under General Lucio Norberto Mansilla and participated in the Battles of Vuelta de Obligado (November 20, 1845) and Quebracho (June 4, 1846) against Anglo-French naval forces, commanding a squadron he had personally trained. Mansilla, in a report dated November 15, 1860, described Cañete as “a disciplined, exemplary officer, devoted to his duties.”

He was promoted to captain in 1848 and major in November 1851. That same year, with his squadron, he joined a division that General Mansilla assigned to Colonel Julián Sosa, under whom Cañete fought in the Battle of Caseros. Mansilla had assigned command due to an illness requiring his return to Buenos Aires.

When Colonel Hilario Lagos rebelled against the Buenos Aires government on December 1, 1852, Major Cañete was stationed in San Nicolás, where Colonel José María Cortina, acting under Lagos’s command, enlisted him to help disarm groups moving towards San Nicolás after the disbandment of the Buenos Aires besieging army on July 13, 1853, maintaining order “with honor, activity, and patriotism” (Cortina’s report, November 20, 1860).

In November 1854, during the Buenos Aires invasion led by enemies from the province of Santa Fe and commanded by General Jerónimo Costa, Cañete, then a retired major, offered his services to Lieutenant Colonel Mariano Artayeta, the local military commander. Artayeta accepted, tasking him with organizing local cavalry forces, which he did successfully, leading 50 cavalrymen in capturing the defeated forces from El Tala and performing other missions, gaining the Superior Government’s recognition.

In January 1856, he accompanied Colonel Esteban García, commanding the first skirmishes against the invading forces of Generals Flores and Costa at Ensenada and Villamayor, where Costa was defeated and executed. As part of the Extramuros Regiment under Colonel García, he fought in the Battle of Cepeda, leading a squadron. After the dispersion of Buenos Aires cavalry, Cañete reached Morón, then returned to the capital and participated in the brief siege until the treaty of November 11. In a report dated December 17, 1860, Colonel García praised Cañete’s conduct: “I have nothing but respect for his morality, skill, and dedication to service.”

He participated in the Battle of Pavón and joined the "General San Martín" Regiment under Colonel García when the Paraguayan War began, taking part in the battles of Yatay, Uruguayana, Paso de la Patria, Itapirú, Estero Bellaco del Sud, Tuyutí, Yataytí-Corá, Boquerón, Sauce, and the cavalry demonstration at San Solano on September 22, 1866.

Promoted to brevet lieutenant colonel, he received full rank on May 8, 1868. However, he was forced to return to Buenos Aires due to severe dysentery. Complications from “malaria” led to Lieutenant Colonel Cruz Cañete’s death in the capital on July 28, 1868, at 53.

On January 18, 1858, he married Rosario Rodríguez, a widow from Buenos Aires, daughter of Colonel Ramón Rodríguez and Concepción Lahite. She passed away in 1894.

Sources

Efemérides – Patricios de Vuelta de Obligado.

www.revisionistas.com.ar

Yaben, Jacinto R. – Biografías argentinas y sudamericanas – Buenos Aires (1938).

Biography: Second Corporal Julio Omar Benitez (Argentine Naval Prefecture)

Second Corporal Julio Omar Benitez

He was born on January 22, 1962 in Basavilbaso, Entre Ríos province. He was discharged as a First Class Sailor on February 1, 1979, and was assigned to the "Martín Jacobo Thompson" Petty Officers School in the city of Zárate, Buenos Aires province, from which he graduated in December 1980 as Second Corporal of the Navigation Ladder.
He took various courses specific to his training, such as the one he took in 1981 on "Damage and Fire Control." That same year he passed the courses on the "12.7-millimeter caliber Browning machine gun" and the "20-millimeter caliber Oerlikon cannon."




Between July 1981 and January 1982, he served as a machinist in the Patrol Division of the Directorate of Zone Prefectures, joining the crew of the Coast Guard PNA GC-83 "Río Iguazú," which actively participated in the Malvinas Islands Theater of Operations.

On May 22, the "Río Iguazú" set sail early, bound for Puerto Darwin, transporting personnel and material from the Argentine Army. At 8:25 a.m., it came under attack by two Sea Harrier aircraft from Squadron 800, part of a Combat Air Patrol (PAC). The Coast Guard GC-83 defended itself using its 12.7 mm Browning machine guns, managing to shoot down one of the enemy aircraft. During the attack, Corporal Julio Omar Benítez, operating one of the machine guns, was killed. Chief Officer Gabino González, Third Assistant Juan José Baccaro, and Corporal Carlos Bengochea were also wounded. Corporal José Raúl Ibáñez took over Benítez's position, repelling the attack and downing one of the aircraft.

Due to severe hull damage and water ingress, the ship was grounded on an island, 13 miles east of Puerto Darwin. Anticipating further attacks, the order was given to abandon the "Río Iguazú," rendering it practically unusable. All personnel were evacuated by Argentine Air Force helicopters to Puerto Darwin. On May 24, at 6 p.m., Corporal Benítez was buried with full military honors. Senior personnel from the Army, Air Force, and the "Río Iguazú" crew attended the ceremony. The cannons, communications equipment, and military supplies were recovered and transported by air to Darwin, fulfilling the original mission of transporting support weapons crucial in the battle of Goose Green.

This action is considered the First Air-Naval Combat in Argentine History. Corporal Benítez was posthumously awarded the medal "The Argentine Nation for Heroic Valor in Combat" and promoted to First Corporal on May 24, 1982. He is buried in the Darwin Cemetery in the Malvinas.



Second Corporal José Raúl Ibáñez, a crew member of the patrol boat "Río Iguazú," demonstrated remarkable heroism and courage during an air attack by two enemy Harrier fighters. Despite the overwhelming superiority of the enemy in terms of armament and firepower, Corporal Ibáñez did not hesitate to act. When the machine gun operator was incapacitated, he took the initiative to man the machine gun himself. With this light weapon, ill-suited for combating aircraft, he managed to seriously damage one of the enemy planes, compelling the British air patrol to withdraw.

In recognition of his bravery and decisive action, Corporal Ibáñez was awarded the "Argentine Nation Medal for Heroic Valor in Combat" under Law 22,607 (1982) and its subsequent amendments.

Biography: Admiral Manuel Domecq García

From war orphan to admiral

MANUEL DOMECQ GARCÍA

By Luis Verón

Next Wednesday marks another anniversary of the battle of Acosta Ñú, during which hundreds of children were massacred in an unequal skirmish. Others survived, and there was no shortage of those who became president of the Republic of Paraguay, such as the case of Emilio Aceval. Today we will remember another survivor of the War against the Triple Alliance who, over the years, became a great personality in Argentine political life, Admiral Manuel Domecq García.


"I was then nine years old. Hundreds of hungry and scattered creatures arrived from the countryside to the capital, following the pilgrims who returned from the deserts, lost for multiple reasons, from our families or guardians, tracking them uselessly. And frightened by the who stole children in the city, those of us who could escape these persecutions fled back into the interior, wandering until we found some pious person in the nearby towns, which had been abandoned and were beginning to be populated again.

"This hunt for minors had lasted from 1869 to 1870, or until later. I went back to the town of Capiatá, taking refuge in a woman from the Mongelós family, until one of my only sisters returned from Cerro Corá, and had to pick me up. with me in the capital. My male brothers all succumbed. The incident that I have described cannot be considered an isolated case, because it was carried out systematically, since the Argentine soldiers themselves went out to walk the streets, looking for small wanderers, or the children of the same neighbors, who had returned to occupy their houses, to later distribute them, as gifts, to their relatives, as living trophies or as "captives." I have had the opportunity to meet many of these unfortunate people, both in the community. capital of Argentina, as in the towns of the provinces, before and after I remained in the army of that country.

This dramatic story was told by Bartolomé Yegros, a child survivor of the War against the Triple Alliance. Theirs was one of the many tragedies experienced by Paraguayan society in the final days of the international conflict that bloodied South America between 1865 and 1870.

Children of war

History gives us several names of children who were kidnapped and taken to neighboring countries, such as the cases of Ramón Grance, Mateo Rivas, José Cantero or Manuel Domecq García. Others were lost in the black pages of the past, as not only were they kidnapped but their own identities were stolen.

Survivors report that a few days after Asunción was taken by the allied forces, in addition to the furniture, jewelry and other looted objects, hundreds of ragged and starving children who had been kidnapped by the soldiers and carried downstream by members of the invading armies, in the midst of dramatic scenes on the part of their relatives, unable to avoid such dispossession, since strong cordons of soldiers did not allow relatives and acquaintances to approach to say goodbye to the unfortunate ones.

The case of the boy Manuel Domecq García is quite curious, because, over time, he became a notable and highly respected personality in Argentine society. He was born in the town of Tobatí on June 12, 1859 and, at just six years old, he was swept up in the maelstrom of war. His father, Tomás Domecq, a military doctor, lost his life in the siege of Humaitá, in 1868, and his mother, Mrs. Eugenia García Ramos de Domecq, would have died in the battle of Piribebuy on August 12, 1869 or due to hardships. following the Paraguayan army as a resident.

Rescued from the jaws of slavery

With the allied forces, numerous families arrived in the country that, until then, lived in exile, such as the case of the Decoud Domecq family, made up of Don Juan Francisco Decoud, second chief of the Paraguayan Legion, and his wife, Doña Concepción Domecq de Decoud, both parents of important protagonists of the national resurrection, such as Don José Segundo Decoud Domecq, journalist, conventional of 1870, minister of state and main ideologue of the National Republican Association, a political party founded in 1887. His brothers Juan José, Adolfo, Diógenes and Héctor Francisco Decoud Domecq stood out in various activities, including literature and journalism, being the founders of the first independent newspaper that the country knew.

According to a report provided by Mrs. Concepción Domecq de Decoud herself, to Dr. Estanislao S. Zeballos, the child Manuel Domecq García had been picked up by soldiers of the Brazilian occupation forces. "After the families returned to Asunción," says Dr. Zeballos, "one night when a meal was being held at the house of Mr. Decoud (Juan Francisco) to rejoice at the family reunion, some Brazilians knocked on the door. He came out. young José Segundo to inquire about the purpose of the visit, and they said that they wanted to speak with the lady.”

When Doña Concepción showed up, with two of her children, the following dialogue took place: "You are looking for a nephew, ma'am; we have one." "Bring him, then." "You need to pay us for the service" "Bring it, I will give you a pound sterling (a high figure at the time)."

The Brazilians refused to hand over the child for that sum and it was only after several minutes of bidding that the handover was agreed upon, when Mrs. Decoud offered to hand over eight pounds sterling for the ransom of the child, who was hidden in a tent in the Brazilian camp.

New loss

In the absence of the parents of the boy Manuel Tomás Domecq García and his sister Eugenia, about five years old, also rescued by her uncles, and given the climate of desolation that existed in Asunción, the children were sent to Argentina to be raised by a maternal uncle, Don Manuel García Ramos, a strong rancher of the time. At one point during the long trip to Argentina, little Manuel Domecq got lost, to the desperation of the person in charge of the children. All efforts to find him were unsuccessful, they continued their journey to Buenos Aires and informed Don Manuel García Ramos of the child's disappearance.

Faced with this situation, Don Manuel resorted to every resource available to him to recover his nephew... He appealed to many friends, both in Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil. He even managed to get the authorities to issue a notice that said: "Circular. Addressed to several Chiefs and Officers of the Allied Army in operations in Paraguay and other people residing in the same country, asking for news of the child Manuel Domecq who has gone missing.

We ask anyone into whose hands this form reaches, if they have any news about the whereabouts of the ten-year-old boy Manuel Domecq, white, black eyes, black hair; Please be kind enough to transmit it to the Argentine Commissioner in Asunción, Colonel D. Pedro José Agüero, directly if possible and if not to the most immediate superior, who is also requested to forward the news to said Colonel.

This child came with the lady in whose care he was, among a group of families that were collected by the allied forces last August. During the walk to the railway station the boy got tired or became ill and a Brazilian officer took him on the back of his horse and in the confusion he got lost, not being able to find him until now.

"The family that is devastated by the loss of this child will deeply thank and gratify the person who provides them with information about his whereabouts. "In Buenos Aires you can think of Peru Street on the corner of Rivadavia." This group was distributed everywhere, but, luckily, it had an effect and, after four months of agonizing waiting, the boy Manuel Tomas Domecq García was able to reunite with his uncle's family.

What happened to the child, the time he was missing again? When he was traveling to meet his uncle Manuel García Ramos, with the unconsciousness of his age, the boy decided to climb on the back of a Brazilian officer's horse, who took him to Brazil, where he was picked up by Marshal Luis Alves de Lima e Silva. , Duke of Caxías, who became so fond of him that he wanted to adopt him. Luckily, his relatives located him and his uncle traveled to Brazil to rescue him.

In Buenos Aires, the boy Manuel and his sister Eugenia went to live in the house of a sister of his mother, Mrs. Demofila García Ramos de Lanús.

Manuel the sailor

In 1873 the Argentine Naval School was founded, which operated on the ship General Brown. Called by his vocation, in 1877, the young Manuel García Domecq entered the brand new school, thus beginning a long and profitable career. He stood out as a student and graduated as a midshipman with excellent grades that made him the first in his class.

In those years, the Argentine government undertook numerous exploratory expeditions of its territory, then unknown to the authorities themselves and with the need to define its limits with neighboring countries.

The young Domecq García participated in several of these expeditions (including some to Pilcomayo), exploring distant territories and carrying out hydrographic surveys of important river courses such as the Paraná and the Yguazú. These missions led him to become one of the important experts on these issues.

In 1886 he joined the Argentine boundary commission with Brazil under the command of Commander Valentín Virasoro and composed, in addition to the young captain, of the hydrographers Niederlein and Brackhauser, Major Rohde and Lieutenant Montes. This commission worked with its Brazilian counterpart to delimit, by surveying the Pepiry-Guazú and San Antonio rivers, the true demarcation line of the border between Brazil and Argentina.

The undeniable ability of the young Paraguayan, nationalized Argentine, led him to carry out important missions commissioned by his superiors, among them being sent to contract the construction of the frigate Sarmiento, destined to be a training ship for the Argentine Navy.

After studying the various proposals from European shipyards, finally, in 1896, he contracted with the firm Laird Brothers, established in Birkenhead, England. Once the construction of the frigate Sarmiento was completed, Domecq returned to his country, being appointed commander in chief of the Río de la Plata Division.

Domecq García in Japan

By order of the government of General Julio Argentino Roca, Captain Manuel Domecq García was appointed president of the Argentine commission for the construction of the armored cruisers Moreno and Rivadavia at the Gio Ansaldo shipyard in Genova. Despite certain family problems - the death of his eldest daughter - he dedicated himself fully to supervising the construction of these two ships, the most advanced of the time in naval matters, in addition to others already delivered to the Argentine Navy: Garibaldi , San Martín, Belgrano and Pueyrredón.

But the fate of the ships whose construction was supervised by Domecq García was going to be totally different from what was planned. In 1902, Argentina signed a disarmament pact with Chile and the equalization of the naval power of both countries.

The two battleships were completed in 1904 and if they were incorporated into the Argentine fleet, the aforementioned pact would be violated. For this reason, the sale of the ships to the Empire of Japan was processed.

Domecq García, as head of the Naval Mission in Genoa, was in charge of delivering the ships to the Japanese envoys, who renamed the battleships with the names of Kasuga and Nisshin.

The Russo-Japanese War was in full swing and the Japanese Empire had invited the Argentine Government to appoint a Navy officer to attend as an observer of the war. The designation fell to Manuel Domecq García, who traveled from Genoa to the scene of war.

Observer in the Russo-Japanese War

The mission as an observer of the Russo-Japanese War was very beneficial in the career of the sailor, who gained the trust of the Japanese and had the opportunity to tour the facilities of various arsenals, the naval school, the machinists' school, etc., in addition to being on board various warships and attending more than one naval battle, some of them frankly bloody.

After almost two years in Japan, Domecq García returned to Argentina in May 1906.

The Paraguayan Domecq García, Argentine admiral

After an eventful life, knowing the horrors of a war in the middle of his childhood, carrying out exploratory expeditions, carrying out important missions abroad, among other things, on May 19, 1908, at the age of forty-nine, Manuel Tomás Domecq García received the honors of the admiralty when he was promoted to rear admiral, after a long postponement as a ship captain, serving in the Navy in different destinations.

Domecq García, the factor

Already with the palms of the admiralty, his long experience in naval matters determined that on December 17, 1908, President Figueroa Alcorta appointed him president of the naval commission in Europe. This commission had to study the proposals and collect reports from the different shipyards that would build ships to reinforce Argentine naval power.

For this purpose, he traveled again to Europe and the United States, where he commissioned the construction of the two largest warships in the world at that time and which cost the country five million pounds sterling. These two battleships were again baptized with the names Moreno and Rivadavia.

After three years at the head of the naval mission in the United States, Domecq García returned to Argentina, being appointed commander in chief of the Sea Squadron. He commanded the battleship Moreno and, now with the rank of vice admiral, he commanded the Argentine flagship, the battleship Rivadavia.

In 1922, Dr. Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear was elected President of the Republic and appointed the most prestigious sailor of the time as Minister of the Navy: Manuel Domecq García. From his ministerial functions, Domecq García was the factor in the modernization of the neighboring country's Navy, which saw its fleet increase, especially through the acquisition of submarines, which were added to the Argentine fleet, some years later.

Both President Alvear and Admiral Domecq García encouraged the construction of submarines by the Argentine Navy and promoted the equipping of a special shipyard. That shipyard was named after his main mentor: "Minister Manuel Domecq García Shipyard", recently reconditioned and reopened by the government of President Néstor Kirchner.

At the Ministry of the Navy

In his youth, Manuel Domecq García was one of the founders of the Argentine Naval Center. In 1912, he was one of the promoters of the creation of the Aeronautics of the neighboring country and, years later, as Minister of the Navy of the Argentine Republic, Manuel Domecq García was the drafter, among other things, of the project of agreement with the Republic of Uruguay for the determination of the jurisdiction of both countries over the waters that separate them; of the preliminary draft for the formation of the Argentine Overseas Merchant Navy; the remodeling of the port of Quequén and the construction of another in Uruguay Bay; of the project to exploit ferrous and plumb minerals at the Valcheta mine, among other achievements.

Being a minister, and because he met the age limit, with the recognition of the entire institution, he retired from naval activity, after fifty-eight years, four months and fourteen days of continuous service. His management was not only recognized in his country, but also abroad: King George V of England honored him with the decoration of Knight of the British Empire. Retired from public activity, the governments that came later did not hesitate to turn to the old admiral to request his wise advice.

When the war broke out that bloodied our country and Bolivia (1932-1935), Admiral Domecq García, so close to Paraguay by ties of blood and friendship, supported Paraguay's fortunes and was one of the main promoters of Argentine aid to the Paraguay.

Personally, he was the founder of the Paraguayan Red Cross Fraternal Association, which sent uniforms, blankets, food, etc. to the front, and he was a member, as a special advisor, of the Argentine commission that, chaired by the Argentine chancellor, Carlos Saavedra Lamas, finally achieved the peace agreement between the belligerents, signed in Buenos Aires on June 12, 1935.

In the postwar period, Admiral Domecq García continued to demonstrate his friendship towards Paraguay. At the desperate request of General José Félix Estigarribia, prisoner after the overthrow of President Eusebio Ayala, he welcomed the wife and daughter of the Paraguayan hero into his home and took care of mobilizing the authorities of Argentina and Brazil, to the opinion public, without forgetting the big bankers and businessmen, until finally obtaining the freedom of both prisoners.

Argentine Patriotic League

On January 16, 1919, a far-right paramilitary group called itself the Argentine Patriotic League was created in Buenos Aires and Manuel Domecq García was elected as provisional president, a position he held until April of the same year. When the general strike of rural laborers broke out in the province of Santa Cruz in November 1920, an event popularly known as Rebel Patagonia, the League enlisted to stop the strike. The League had an outstanding performance in the conflict that ended in January in 1922, with a death toll of 1,500 workers.

The meetings of this group were held in the rooms of the Military Circle, where Domecq García, together with Rear Admiral Eduardo O'Connor, distributed the weapons that the League used for its raids.

In 1938, Domecq García was one of the promoters of General Estigarribia's candidacy for the presidency of the Republic of Paraguay, telling him, among other things: "...just as in the last war the entire people of Paraguay mobilized to defend it." "You must mobilize in your government, if it arrives as I wish, that same people for work, so that the shovel and the pickaxe, instead of the rifle, are the weapons of progress."

After a long life, on January 11, 1951, at the age of ninety-two, Manuel Domecq García, that boy born in a small Paraguayan town, who knew the horrors of the war in which he lost his parents and whose fate He took to Argentina, a country he served with heroism from the wild missionary forests, the inhospitable Chaco wastelands, who actively contributed to enhancing the naval power of his adopted country, he gave his soul, after becoming deserving of the highest awards and honors. professionals, leaving behind as he died a mortgaged house and a twenty-year-old car, his uniforms, his letters and the admired memory of his Argentine compatriots. It is time for his Paraguayan compatriots to start getting to know him.