A-4Q Skyhawk Last Outfit

The last “outfit” of the A-4Q Skyhawk

Sean Eternos los Laureles




This camouflage scheme is a consequence of the massacre of A-4Q “Skyhawks” at the hands of Sea Harriers on 21 May 1982 over San Carlos Strait. They detected them after being tracked by the CIC of HMS “Hermes” and vectored towards them; but when the British pilots reached the estimated area, they did not find the target because the A-4Qs were flying at sea level and the FRS.1’s Blue Fox radar did not have Doppler scan (on the FA.2 it was replaced by the more capable Blue Vixen with pulse-Doppler), so they could not pick up our Skyhawks. However, at the last moment they almost by chance spotted three white dots moving over a dark grey stretch of water in the strait, and that was enough: the Sea Harriers pounced on the Argentine Skyhawks, which at first had not even noticed their presence. Quickly, Márquez’s 3-A-314 was hit by 30 mm ADEN cannon fire from Leeming’s FRS.1 XZ500; and Philippi’s 3-A-307 was struck by an AIM-9L missile from Morrell’s FRS.1 XZ457. 



Both were shot down: Márquez was killed in that action, while Philippi managed to eject. Meanwhile, César Arca in 3-A-312 spotted what was happening and began desperate evasive manoeuvres, limited by the low-level flight profile he was maintaining (seeking to “merge” with enemy radars and missiles using ground/sea clutter), until a number of 30 mm ADEN rounds from Morrell’s FRS.1 XZ457 hit him as well. Even so, thanks to his impressive skill on the stick and pedals (he had no other defence), Arca managed to escape with his damaged Skyhawk, and the Sea Harriers, already short of fuel, could not pursue him at sea level, where their Mk.104 Pegasus engines would guzzle kerosene at rates that would prevent them returning to the carrier. Thus, with serious damage and leaking fuel, unable to get back to Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, Arca managed to fly as far as Puerto Argentino in the hope of making an emergency landing on the runway. But controllers on the ground warned him that one leg of the landing gear had not deployed. At that point Arca decided to abandon the aircraft, since landing on the runway was impossible. He ejected while the aircraft continued flying and began to turn, threatening to collide with the pilot already hanging under his parachute—so from the ground the decision was taken to shoot the aircraft down with Argentine anti-aircraft artillery, and it crashed some 400 metres from the runway.

The A-4Qs had already completed their attack on the Type 21 frigate HMS “Ardent”, which was also attacked by other Navy A-4Qs, and by Air Force Daggers and A-4Bs, and ended up sinking (as can be clearly seen in the photos. Attack and sinking of HMS “Ardent”. But during their escape, Philippi’s 1st Section was betrayed by its light grey paint (which from a distance looked white to the Sea Harrier pilots!!!) against the dark South Atlantic, and that proved fatal for Skyhawks in retreat: with no warning systems or active or passive countermeasures, with no weapons to defend themselves (even the 20 mm ammunition for the Colt cannons had already been fired at “Ardent”), and without enough fuel to manoeuvre in air combat and then reach the KC-130H tankers and return to the mainland.

The A-4Qs were cleared to carry AIM-9B Sidewinder missiles; in fact, on 1 and 2 May 1982, two A-4Qs were aboard the aircraft carrier ARA “25 de Mayo” in an air-defence role (the other six A-4Qs were held with bombs to attack enemy ships), when—together with the two Argentine Type 42 destroyers (ARA “Hércules” and ARA “Santísima Trinidad”)—it tried to close within range of the Task Force. Despite having two aircraft carriers equipped with between 24 and 28 Sea Harrier fighters, and having between 6 and 10 escorting destroyers and frigates, the British avoided combat thanks to their higher speed. They could have ended the war that same day if they had managed to destroy the small Argentine naval group, since at all times they knew the Argentine formation’s position—whether through satellite tracking provided by the USA, and also by the nuclear submarine HMS “Spartan”, which from 28 or 29 April was pursuing the Argentine carrier; and even via a Sea Harrier that, while trying to shoot down an Argentine S-2E Tracker, came within range of the Argentine escorts’ Sea Dart missiles and had to break off. The Royal Navy, at the maximum speed its engines could provide, preferred to run away from the Argentine Navy!

It is evident that, face to face—and with sufficient anti-aircraft armament and fuel in the capable Skyhawks, and with our Navy’s experienced pilots—the outcome might have been very different…; because on 1 and 2 May a British naval force two to three times larger than the Argentine naval formation, and with three or more times Argentina’s air capability, the Royal Navy chose to flee for two whole days at full speed rather than confront Argentine sailors with their old aircraft—already suspecting the lethality of our pilots with their ageing mounts and weapons.

But on 21 May the die was cast. Much of the Royal Navy was anchored in San Carlos Bay landing troops, with the rest sailing nearby to block the entry routes of Argentine air attack formations. Thanks to experienced British commanders who planned the defensive scheme well, almost every approach run towards the enemy troop and cargo transports was covered by British escorts, so that Argentine aircraft inevitably ran into frigates or destroyers (which in turn covered one another and were also covered from land by Rapier missile launchers) before our aircraft could reach the transports. Again and again they were forced to bomb escorts without being able to strike the transports. In that picture, the case of HMS “Ardent” was different: in the middle of San Carlos Strait she was shelling Argentine positions at Darwin, seeking to pin them down to prevent them moving towards the San Carlos beachhead—something impossible for our troops, who could only arrive on foot with whatever weapons and ammunition they could carry, exposed to enemy air and naval attacks, to face thousands of well-equipped and well-supported British troops. But the British did not want to risk the entire landing operation because of that. And once again they risked an escort ship to achieve their aims (that is what such ships are for), and HMS “Ardent” was that ship. By harassing Argentine troops ashore, she quickly drew the attention of Argentine aviation and concentrated no fewer than five attack missions involving more than 15 aircraft, which tore her to pieces—while also drawing attacks away from the beachhead. Argentina lost three A-4Q fighter-bombers, curiously—and this is the key detail—because they were painted white, which is how British pilots perceived them from a distance, intercepted them and shot them down. In other circumstances at that distance, aircraft camouflaged like the Air Force Daggers and A-4Bs would have gone unnoticed (not at closer range, where they would still have been spotted by eye). The camouflage scheme of Argentina’s naval Skyhawks, obviously combined with the circumstances and the long-range attack profile—fuel-limited, without passive-defence systems, without self-defence missiles, and flying at sea level as the only form of evasion—proved fatal for the Argentine aircraft.

The Argentine Navy took note of this as operations developed, realising that the US Navy scheme on Argentina’s naval fighter-bombers was not suitable for the South Atlantic. And so, after this incident, they set about “hiding” the conspicuous Skyhawks from the enemy’s eye.

On that basis, several schemes were tested during and after the war, as seen in the images, all of them far more effective than the US Navy’s pearl-grey/white. In the end it was concluded that naval grey was the most suitable, both because these aircraft operated primarily over a naval environment, and because it also proved effective over land—at least in island theatres and along the Patagonian coasts of the South Atlantic. In addition, insignia and numbers were reduced or eliminated to the minimum, although a striking light blue and white rudder was retained, which—while suitable for peacetime—would very likely have been covered or blurred in wartime, in the manner of British Sea Harriers and Harriers during the conflict. On the way to the Malvinas they removed all markings that might stand out to the human eye (or optical sensors) in a theatre like the South Atlantic, even eliminating the white ring of the roundel on wings and fuselage—including on the Vulcans, Victors, Nimrods and Hercules used from Ascension Island, and the Phantoms that provided air defence at Ascension.

On the underside of the Skyhawks, a medium-tone grey was adopted, more compatible with the sky when viewed by enemy anti-aircraft gunners with the aircraft silhouetted against a sky background.

This was the scheme with which the Douglas A-4Q Skyhawk “retired” from the Argentine Navy without receiving an adequate replacement, around 1988, although some aircraft still flew in the old US Navy scheme, since it was known their service life would soon end—as it did—and they did not invest even in paint to camouflage them. Even so, it is obvious that if a mobilisation like those of 1982—or even 1978—had occurred (in 1978 very effective protective schemes had also been tested), it is hard to understand why, as soon as the Argentine mobilisation to respond to the British attack began in 1982 (from 7 April), the Skyhawks were not camouflaged. The Task Force sailed on 5 April towards the Malvinas, but Argentina waited 48 more hours before decreeing a massive mobilisation of troops and equipment to the islands, waiting to see what measures the UN would adopt, since Resolution 502 of 3 April 1982—requiring a cessation of hostilities and withdrawal of troops from the area—was in force for both Argentina and Great Britain. Yet while Argentina, on the very same 2 April 1982 when we recovered the islands, had begun withdrawing troops back to the mainland, five Royal Navy ships (including a nuclear submarine) were already heading towards the Malvinas; and on 5 April the attack began when the Task Force sailed from Portsmouth. By 7 April, in the face of the UN’s absolute passivity (Argentina always sought to act lawfully and to negotiate—always!), and after the TIAR—which in theory should have led all of the Americas, including the United States, to mobilise to defend Argentina—the UN never even acknowledged it; and the TIAR (Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance), by wrongly considering Argentina the aggressor—impossible, since British aggression dates from 2 January 1833 when it occupied the islands and expelled the Argentine authorities—did not respond. Argentina thus began mobilisation to defend the Malvinas Islands and South Georgia (the first reinforcement troops began arriving in the Malvinas on 11 April, and in South Georgia on 25 April), finally violating Resolution 502—after the British had done so two days earlier. It is obvious there was enough time to reconsider the A-4Q camouflage scheme, yet on 1 May they entered action with an unsuitable scheme, and incredibly on 21 May they still retained it; and worse still, it was expected that by the end of June Great Britain would have to surrender or withdraw from operations because its endurance would run out. At that point Argentina’s Sea Fleet would begin the counterattack to harass them, including the Argentine aircraft carrier with its Skyhawks, of which only 5 or 6 units were then available (with one recovered from Espora), and more incredibly still, they still retained the suicidal US Navy scheme.

P.S.: The scale model was made some years ago by the author of this text. It is actually a 1/72 Douglas A-4A Skyhawk that I had to modify into an A-4B (Q) with putty and parts from a blister-pack of spares to make the in-flight refuelling probe, the VHF aerial and the dorsal Doppler fairing, as well as the arrestor hook, since the kit I bought lacked them. The serial number and insignia are purely hand-painted (using the tip of a wooden toothpick as a “pen”). The Snakeye bombs—like those used by Philippi’s 1st Section in the HMS “Ardent” attack mentioned above, carrying four 227 kg Mk-82s per aircraft—and their bomb rack were leftovers from an F-117 or an A-10 kit, I cannot remember which now, and I added them to complete the model. The aircraft stand with the national colours was actually from a 1/72 Grumman F-4F Wildcat kit, which I had not used because when I built it (in a US Navy 1943 North Atlantic scheme, when the F-6F Hellcat was already taking its place) I built it with the landing gear down; so I later reused it—this time—to display this A-4A configured as an A-4Q (B) of the CANA (later COAN) of the Argentine Navy in an in-flight attack configuration.

BIM 5: Argentine Marines Arrives in the Malvinas

 

The Legendary BIM 5 Arrives in the Malvinas

Account taken from the book Batallón 5
This concerns the arrival in the Malvinas of the 5th Marine Infantry Battalion (School) and the loyalty of its members to the battalion.

C̲a̲p̲t̲a̲i̲n̲ ̲(̲t̲h̲e̲n̲ ̲a̲ ̲f̲r̲i̲g̲a̲t̲e̲ ̲c̲a̲p̲t̲a̲i̲n̲)̲ ̲R̲o̲b̲a̲c̲i̲o̲ recounts:

On 8 April, at nine in the morning, I received a telephone call from the command of Marine Infantry Force No. 1, based in Río Gallegos. The commander, Captain Manuel Tomé, who had replaced Captain Jorge Ranni, told me: “Robacio, I’m going to set up over there. You’re coming with me.” Two hours later I was already at the Battalion.

Around midday I called in my subordinates and ordered a general formation, in which I addressed them.

“I want to make it absolutely clear that we are going to fight, with everything that entails,” I said in an energetic tone. “We are going to fight, and we are going to do it well, as we have practised it a thousand times over here. No one is obliged to go, but whoever does not wish to be part of the Battalion should say so right now. Later will be too late.”

No one moved. Everyone stayed in place, motionless and silent—an eloquent silence indeed. As soon as the conscripts from the cohort that had been discharged heard the news, they tore up the tickets that would have taken them back home and immediately rejoined their companies. None of them wanted to remain on the mainland. None wanted to miss the chance to give themselves to the Battalion that had become part of their lives—even with the possibility of never returning, of dying far away on land that belonged to them, yet which they did not know.

Those who were not fit to go, because they were not operational, asked to be authorised to form part of the Battalion all the same. Those who were rejected did not hesitate for an instant to protest and to express their anger. Petty Officer Julio Saturnino Castillo, in charge of the Battalion’s maintenance group, had to remain at the barracks for organisational reasons. He became very upset and asked again and again—almost to the point of exhaustion—to be allowed to travel. In the end this petty officer went to the islands and was killed fighting on Mount Tumbledown, together with many of his soldiers from the maintenance group, who had also volunteered and joined the now legendary 4th Section of Nacar Company.

A particularly special case was that of the conscript Roberto Silva, from the province of Misiones. He had suffered an accident with a mortar and was therefore hospitalised while awaiting a decision, as he would have to be discharged. Once recovered, Captain Robacio placed him under the orders of Senior Petty Officer Jorge Hernández, so that he could serve as a messenger. Being illiterate, in the afternoons he attended the school, while in the mornings Hernández’s daughter gave him two hours of lessons and helped him with his homework. In a short time he had become one more member of that family. (The 5th Marine Infantry Battalion carries the abbreviation “ESC”, meaning “school”; illiterate soldiers learned to read and write.)

But then came the recovery of the Malvinas and, without hesitating for an instant, he asked to go. The senior petty officer refused authorisation, so the conscript resolutely went to Captain Robacio. He insisted so much that he finally obtained permission.

Before leaving for the islands, Silva said goodbye to Mrs Hernández. “Please, I want you to keep this,” he said, moved, handing her his civilian clothes, letters, money and some personal effects. Mrs Hernández could not hold back her tears. “This is my mother’s address. If I die, please write to her.” “Are you sure you want to go?” Mrs Hernández stammered. “Yes. It’s what I want most.”

As the Battalion began arriving in Puerto Argentino on several aircraft, the airfield was a hell. Aircraft arriving, others departing; loads being unloaded; people trying to find their groups. “Everyone to work,” Captain Robacio ordered, and he said to Lieutenant Commander Ponce (the Battalion’s second-in-command): “I want the ammunition crates here, and let’s get away from this chaos.” Robacio had not taken the entire Battalion, as some people had to stay behind to maintain the minimum functioning of it, and to assist the personnel who would be sent to cover the post they were leaving in Río Grande.

But his surprise was great when he saw that many of those men were arriving as stowaways, having slipped onto the aircraft. Such was the spirit of belonging among his people that they did not want to remain there on the mainland. Men from the reconnaissance squadron, conscripts from other sections, began to appear. Robacio counted them: forty men! But he would not stop being surprised there. At a certain moment he heard, behind him, a familiar voice. He turned at once and found himself face to face with his driver, the conscript Ricardo Khouri, whom he had also left on the mainland.

“What are you doing here?”
“Sir, I’m not going to stay with the Battalion while you’re here.”
“You’re going back,” Robacio said, trying to muster an anger he did not feel.
“No, sir, please. I’ve accompanied you everywhere; this time I’m not leaving you.”

Robacio looked into those eyes, shining with the mischief of someone who knows he is up to something. “All right, stay—but I’m going to have you locked up,” he replied jokingly.

“Sir,” the conscript said, pointing to the steps of an aircraft, “is that not…?”
“No! Him as well?” Robacio interrupted, clutching his head.

Grispo, “the fat one”, a civilian technician (the Navy has civilian personnel who work in certain areas such as workshops, offices, etc.), responsible for the Battalion’s electrical repairs, had also slipped onto a plane and there he was, as bold as brass.

“I’d better head into town,” Robacio said, and he started walking, then boarded a Jeep towards Puerto Argentino to report to his superior and receive orders.

Goose Green: The 2 Para Clash and Flesh

Malvinas: The Deployment of the Gendarmes

The Start of the Adventure for the Gendarmes 

By the Principal Commander of Communications (R) VGM Carlos S Vega

Malvinas Historias de Coraje




Everything began, after the pertinent orders, in the Logistics Squadron of the National Gendarmerie, beside the “Centinela” Building. There we were provided with winter clothing, new weaponry, helmet, and other equipment that we would later use in the Islands. I also met who would be my superior, my companions and my subordinates – not all of them, but a considerable number gathered there. The Chief of the Squadron, Commander José Ricardo Spadaro, the 2nd Commander San Emeterio, the 2nd Commander Santo, the 1st Alférez Sánchez (whom I already knew from the “Atucha” Security Squadron), Sergeant 1st Class Ramón Acosta, Sergeant 1st Class Figueredo, Sergeant 1st Class Pepe, etc.

The waiting increased the anxiety, the men were nervous, all leaving their families, not knowing if they would return; nevertheless the enthusiasm overflowed, it was the opportunity of our lives, it could be the last. A question: would we be capable?... We were not just any men, we had been chosen to be the first gendarmes to depart for the Islands. The mere thought of it made our chest swell – it was truly a great honour to represent the National Gendarmerie in an event that would remain engraved in the great history of the Homeland. Truly, the commitment was very great.

One must feel and be supermen to attempt to emulate the feats of the gendarmes who had preceded us and taught the way. To recall the courage and moral integrity of the comrades who would remain on the continent, whose capacity was in no way less than ours; the weight of responsibility was truly overwhelming.

The men gave each other advice, all listened attentively to the Commandos specialists, on whose guidance our survival would depend; the wait thus became long and monotonous. Always checking the equipment, always the last glance, seeing how to carry so many things without discomfort: the weight of the helmet, the FAL, the kit bag, in my case the photographic camera, the nerves, etc.

The departure was postponed until the following day – dismay, the wait wore us out. Personnel were offered the possibility to return to their homes, to come back the next day at 07.00 hrs. Only one accepted; the rest did not wish to, or had nowhere to go. We slept on the floor; we had to begin to get used to the harsh conditions that surely awaited us.

At last, at 14.20 hrs on 27 May, we would embark on an Air Force plane bound for Comodoro Rivadavia. In the Logistics Squadron, the hours became eternal. The 2nd Chief of the Logistics Squadron, Commander Jorge Sachitela, offered us castor oil to soak our new TAM (high mountain troop) boots in order to make them waterproof – later we would confirm that it was a very wise measure. Sachitela saved us much work and did all he could for the good care of those who had to depart. A genuine man from Corrientes.

The comrades with Commando training reminded us of how important it was to have neckerchiefs long enough to be truly useful and not merely decorative. For example, they could serve to filter water, tie presumed prisoners, make an improvised stretcher with several of them, immobilise a broken limb, make a tourniquet, place it under the helmet to warm the ears – and so on, a series of useful ideas. For this reason, people were sent to buy green cloth for that purpose. Several metres were obtained, cut and sewn into neckerchiefs by the Squadron’s seamstresses. They proved to be really useful, if only to keep our necks warm and protect our ears. On our return we decided to adopt them and included them as necessary in a report drafted to assimilate the experiences gathered during the war, recommending very especially that the National Directorate order their use throughout the Gendarmerie, as indeed happened.

Before leaving there was time for everything, especially for thinking. There was an idea that gripped us, not spoken aloud but present in all: most probably we would not return alive, and we accepted our responsibility. Despite the overly optimistic news from broadcasters and journalists, we did not deceive ourselves. The fact that the enemy had managed to establish a beachhead at San Carlos, and that our troops had been unable to prevent it, represented a great vulnerability. Of course, it had cost them dearly, but as in truco, what costs is worth it, and we knew that too. However, there was something of which we were certain: as long as we were together, our blood would not come easily to the gringos.

Slowly we were growing accustomed to the idea of death – not in a fatalistic sense, but in being prepared for a possibility. Before departure we had each drawn up our individual will, we left authorisations for our families to collect our salaries; despite the rush, matters were resolved. Within the possible, everything necessary had been foreseen.

The time arrived to board the bus that would take us to the military airport of “El Palomar”. Prior to departure, we were bid farewell by Major General Ortiz, then National Director of the Gendarmerie; his words reminded us of the representation we bore and his certainty that we would play our part well.

As we left the Logistics Squadron, when traffic was cut on Avenida Antártida Argentina, the drivers from their cars greeted us with horns and handkerchiefs, arms raised, fingers in the “V” for victory. It was an emotional moment; despite the simplicity of the scene, for us it was the farewell of our people, those for whom we were going to lay down our lives.

Personally, I remember the farewell of my Director of Communications to me; he asked if I had warm clothing, I do not recall what I answered, but minutes before boarding the bus they brought me a parcel sent personally by Major Commander Emilio Faustino Rius. It contained a very warm pullover, a screwdriver, a pair of pliers, a roll of black insulating tape, and a handwritten note where he explained that the pullover was his and he hoped I would return it “without holes”. That garment proved most useful and, thank God, I was able to return it exactly as he had asked.

Shortly after the vehicle began moving, and as a way to lighten the moment, ideas were exchanged on the name that should be given to the Squadron, which had to have some relation to the mission we presumed awaited us. Several names were expressed, which I do not now recall, but ultimately someone mentioned “Scorpion” – I believe it was Commander Spadaro – because it is an insect that acts at night, is native, and sometimes its sting is lethal. In the end, this was the one adopted.

Minutes before boarding the Air Force “Fokker” that would take us to Comodoro Rivadavia, we saw arrive on the runway the Deputy National Director, General Commander Becich, together with all the members of the High Command of the National Directorate – that is, the General Commanders based in the “Centinela” building – who bid us farewell with heartfelt words, also greeting us each personally. It is curious, but in those moments, although it may seem futile, we all sincerely appreciated the gesture.

In column we boarded the plane that awaited us, which had already been loaded with our belongings as well as other cargo with the same destination. Here I must clarify: there were no stewardesses in sight, the seats (simple straps holding up the benches) were rather uncomfortable, there was no space to move, and the onboard service consisted only of some mate prepared by the mechanical NCO before landing. I managed to drink some accompanied by two sweet biscuits; undoubtedly it was not a commercial flight nor a journey of tourism.

At last we took off! The plane vibrated, the fresh air entered from all sides, a marvellous sunny afternoon. I sat alongside Commander Spadaro, 1st Alférez Sánchez and myself occupying the front of the aircraft.

During the flight some managed to sleep. Commander Spadaro, 1st Alférez Sánchez and 2nd Commander San Emeterio conceived an organisation for the Squadron which coincided with what was later adopted. The Operations Officer, 1st Alférez Sánchez, was ordered to draw up the “War Diary”.

Halfway through the flight I went to where the pilots were, speaking with the commander of the aircraft, who showed me how the onboard radar functioned, allowing me to observe the terrain and coastline to our left. I called our Chief, and the said commander, whose name I do not recall, told us what he knew about the situation in the Islands.

Truly, our previous assessments were not far from reality: the enemy continued its advance towards Darwin – Goose Green despite the attacks of our Air Force.

At that moment I remembered that we did not carry our own flag; I said so aloud, and we agreed to obtain one upon our arrival at Comodoro Rivadavia.

The flight from “El Palomar” to “Comodoro Rivadavia” lasted four hours and was quite heavy.

Arriving at the airport, we disembarked and went to the runway, where the wait would continue. While there, we saw some large devices with the appearance of bombs, about six metres long, without visible markings, slim and painted a greyish-brown colour. They were being loaded by soldiers from a flatbed to a lorry, and then onto an aircraft. Much later, in Port Stanley, we learned that these were the famous “Exocets”.

Thus ended the first stage of our mission, characterised by waiting, anxieties, and moving sensations. Then would come the baptism of fire, participation in the combats, the final outcome, and the return tinged with sadness and with fewer men. Some remained prisoners, and others as eternal sentinels of our irrenounceable sovereignty in the Archipelago.

Argentine Navy: Submarine ARA Santa Fé

 

Submarine A.R.A. Santa Fe

The submarine ARA Santa Fe (S-21) hoisted her Argentine flag on 2 July 1971. At the end of 1978, as a result of the disagreement over sovereignty of the three islands, Lennox and Nueva in the Beagle Channel, tensions rose between Argentina and Chile.

On 22 December 1978, Argentina launched Operation Sovereignty to militarily occupy the islands. When conflict seemed inevitable, the timely intervention of Pope John Paul II prevented the start of hostilities. On 30 March 1982, she was incorporated into Task Force 40, Task Group 40.4, carrying on board part of the landing force of Operation Rosario. From her, the tactical divers departed who enabled the landing of Argentine forces that recapture the Malvinas Islands. She was assigned a new mission for which she was resupplied with fuel and provisions to transport a detachment of marines towards South Georgia Islands. She managed to evade the British blockade and entered San Pedro Island, penetrating Captain Vago Cove in National Guard Bay (Grytviken), disembarking personnel and materials. At 05:50 hours (local time), she departed to return to her assigned patrol zone, but was detected and attacked by a Wessex helicopter. The vessel returned to Grytviken. Resistance was offered by firing at the enemy helicopters from the sail, led by Corporal Héctor O. Feldman. At 07:30 she moored, listing to port and with the stern submerged. Faced with British superiority in troop numbers, the Argentine garrison surrendered along with the submariners. On 27 April, an attempt was made to change her position; during the manoeuvre, Petty Officer First Class Félix O. Artuso was fatally wounded when a British marine shot him, indicating that he had made movements that led him to believe he was about to operate a valve to scuttle the vessel. During the austral summer of 1984/1985, the United Kingdom ordered the salvage of the former ARA Santa Fe (S-21) in order to remove her from the anchorage at Vago Cove, to free the pier for use by active vessels. The S-21 began to be towed to deeper waters. Finally, the veteran vessel sank definitively in the South Atlantic, settling on the seabed at 196 metres depth.

Class: Balao Class (modified to GUPPY II) Diesel-electric attack submarine.

Launched:
19 November 1944 – Shipyard: Electric Boat Company (Groton, Connecticut, USA).

Power:
3 General Motors 278A 16-cylinder diesel engines
2 General Electric electric motors
2 main Exide batteries of 126 cells • 2 propellers.
Surface speed: 20–25 knots – 37.5 KM/Hour.
Submerged speed: 8.75 knots – 16 KM/Hour.

Armament:
10 Torpedo tubes of 533 mm (21 in) (6 forward, 4 aft, 24 torpedoes)
1 deck gun of 127 mm/25 calibre (5 in)
1 20 mm AA gun
2 12.7 mm (0.5") machine guns
1 40 mm AA gun

The elements for constructing the model parts are entirely made with recyclable materials respecting the measurements according to plans.
SCALE: 1/100 – Model built in 2008 by LEANDRO CISNEROS.

Submarine A.R.A. Santa Fe

Force Navy 

Length 95 mts.

Beam 8.31 mts.

Draught  4.65 mts.

Crew 80 – 85 personnel

Malvinas: The Actions of BIM 5 Obra Company

Account of a Naval Infantry Petty Officer – OBRA Company – BIM 5 Ec (Part 2)

Change of Mission

On 5 June, the company received orders from the Commander of BIM 5 Ec to occupy a Forward Combat Post in the Pony's Pass area. Commander Robacio had long requested that the High Command cover the approach to Port Stanley via the only road connecting Fitz Roy to the town. Without a response from his superiors, he ultimately decided to assign OBRA Company to this mission. This decision impacted the battalion during the Tumbledown engagement, as it lacked a reserve force for a swift counterattack.

We were to position ourselves in the Pony's Pass area. Initially, a reconnaissance was conducted, and the findings were reported to Commander Robacio. He realised that Pony's Pass was not ideal for a Forward Combat Post due to its small hillock surrounded by lagoons and semi-permanent watercourses, all easily fordable by foot troops. Consequently, Lieutenant Miño (of the Amphibious Engineers) was ordered to install a minefield ahead of the future positions, and Sub-Lieutenant Quiroga was instructed to move after reconnaissance and to bring the troops as late as possible, as we were certain the enemy was observing us, and the position needed to remain concealed.

During the night of 11 to 12 June, from OBRA Company's positions, we observed the battles for Mount Harriet. The marines watching the combat could do little, as the British attacks occurred beyond the range of their weapons, 2000 to 3000 metres away, except for an enemy unit attempting a rear assault on Harriet, which came within 800 to 1000 metres of OBRA's weapons.

Petty Officer Tejerina recounts: "On the night of 11 June, after intense naval and land artillery fire, between approximately 2200 and 2300 hours, the enemy launched an assault on the positions at Harriet with machine guns, rocket launchers, and artillery. British artillery fell immediately in front of the first assault line. We saw this clearly from our position, as the tracer rounds from the machine guns indicated the attackers' positions, and occasional flares lit up the area. It was a cold, clear night with a full moon that rose before the attack (21:25). The Company Commander continuously reported the situation to BIM 5 Ec Command. We were ordered to prepare for a potential counterattack. At 0100, combat intensified at the top of Harriet. By 0145, the fighting subsided, with only sporadic machine-gun fire heard. At that time, we recovered two conscripts from the RI 4 Service Section (Conscripts Ibañez and Vallejos), provided them with dry clothing, weapons, ammunition, and Charlie rations; they joined the Company and remained with us until the end of the fighting. Our artillery targeted the attackers; the fire was directed by TCIM Quiroga and GUIM Bianchi of the 1st Section of BIM 5 Ec stationed at William, even firing upon RI 4's own positions east of the mountain. Our commander continuously reported enemy troop movements in the Port Harriet area and their manoeuvre northward towards Mount Harriet. He was particularly concerned about an enemy unit moving northwest."

Petty Officer Tejerina continues: "At dawn on 12 June, enemy troops were seen assembling prisoners on the southern slope of Harriet, then marching them westward. Helicopters were also observed evacuating the wounded. For the rest of the day, we had to remain in our positions to avoid detection. At 1400, enemy artillery shelled our positions with timed ammunition for 30 minutes. (Note: Timed ammunition explodes before hitting the ground, causing a shower of shrapnel.) In this bombardment, a fragment slightly wounded Dragoneante Orlando Garcia, the Rifle Platoon Leader, in the back; he was treated by Second Corporal Medic Angelossi. Dragoneante Garcia refused to leave his position and be evacuated. At 1830, enemy artillery again shelled our area for 30 minutes. I was caught inspecting positions and had to make several dashes to reach the rocket launcher position. Accompanying me was Dragoneante Ariel Bustamante (rocket launcher loader); during one of the bursts, I was hit by the blast wave of a grenade and fell stunned into a water-filled hole, from which Dragoneante Bustamante rescued me instead of seeking cover; he had a habit of accompanying me on my rounds, even under fire."

On 13 June, we detected movements ahead of us, approximately a company of Welsh troops approaching. Artillery fire was requested but fell short; Lieutenant Quiroga made corrections, and then it hit the Welsh troops. We heard screams as they tried to retreat, but the artillery continued to inflict casualties. After a while, they were subjected to heavy fire until Lieutenant Quiroga suspended the fire due to the lack of standing enemy soldiers. I was impressed by the efficiency of the British medical personnel. They wore a type of short white poncho with a red cross on the back, tied at the waist. Some wounded had inflatable splints applied to their limbs, possibly to stop bleeding or fractures. The medics marked the location of the wounded, and then helicopters evacuated them.

Lieutenant Quiroga's Injury

Between 1815 and 1900 hours, while moving between positions, the Company Commander stepped into a hole approximately 20 centimetres in diameter and 50 centimetres deep while taking cover from a nearby grenade explosion, dislocating his ankle. The intense pain immobilised Lieutenant Quiroga, who was quickly attended to by SSIM Orosco and CSEN Angelossi. The latter bandaged Lieutenant Quiroga but suspected a fracture due to rapid swelling and advised him to seek further medical attention at the BIM 5 Ec Aid Post for proper treatment.

After evacuating Lieutenant Quiroga, command was assumed by Lieutenant Calmels. Fog began to form gradually. During twilight, via radio, Petty Officer Tejerina repeatedly instructed his men on the retreat procedure, which theoretically consisted of:

1. Movement: Withdrawal of Corporal Agüero's group (the most forward) through the bunker, then past the Company CP to a rear assembly point. There, the two groups would occupy positions to cover the retreat of the rest.

2. Movement: Withdrawal of the 1st Group.

3. Movement: Withdrawal of the 2nd Group.

Final Movement: Machine guns and 60 mm mortars.

Lieutenant Calmels assumed command around 2200 hours, about fifteen minutes before the attack began. The attack caught him by surprise; he was unaware of the exact situation of his Company. The night, the fog that had begun to lift, enemy fire, and conflicting reports from Group Leaders painted a grave picture; he knew the British were numerous, everywhere, and advancing almost openly, shouting. In reality, the enemy unexpectedly encountered OBRA positions, not anticipating resistance there due to the marines' effective concealment. However, for the Argentinians, the British appeared suddenly, as the fog and artillery noise prevented detection. Combat began when the enemy engaged Corporal Agüero's group, which, as mentioned, was slightly forward, practically on the road, 150 metres from the CP. It's evident that the enemy vanguard was moving along the road, as the group was attacked from the front and right flank (north), threatening its rear. From that moment, combat became generalised. The machine gun left by Corporal Alvarez to Corporal Agüero, previously moved to the northern flank, opened fire. Even from the Company CP, Lieutenant Calmels, Petty Officer Tejerina, Corporal Carrasco, and the Company Platoon Conscripts fired their rifles at the enemy to the north of the position. Grenade explosions were heard. The other two Rifle Groups (1 and 2) prepared for combat, but the British attack did not press on them, receiving only sporadic fire. At that time, it was snowing. The British advanced, supported by a high rate of machine-gun fire—about six or seven—clearly located by their tracer rounds. The enemy gained ground, nearly two companies against a reinforced section.

The Retreat

The retreat could not be executed as planned. In reality, Groups 1 and 2, along with Petty Officer Tejerina, moved towards the Quarry. When the retreat was ordered, the Group Leaders began the movement, but Agüero, who was to initiate it, reported he couldn't move. At that point, the Company Commander ordered his 60 mm mortars to fire on the White Points ahead of the 3rd Group. Some conscripts from this group were seen retreating, but Agüero no longer responded on the radio. By 2300 hours, with the movement underway, Groups 1 and 2 fought their way past the immediate depression behind them and then marched towards the Quarry. Subsequently, the Company Commander withdrew with the Company Platoon and mortar personnel. Petty Officer Orosco remained at the rear, covering the retreat with a machine gun. Briefly illuminated by three flares (two and one), they were forced to "hit the deck." In reality, the illumination was over William. The rest of the Company's retreat occurred in darkness. At 0100 hours, they reached the Quarry, where the Company regrouped. The Company Commander had a mission to fulfil as the Battalion Reserve and immediately marched north towards the Subunit's previous position near the BIM 5 Ec CP. Due to poor terrain information, Lieutenant Calmels expected to find Company RI 3 immediately east of the Quarry, but Captain EA Varela's Company was actually further northeast of William, leaving a gap between Sapper Hill and William.

We returned to our old positions south of the BIM 5 Ec CP. Around 0900 hours, Lieutenant Calmels received orders to retreat to Sapper Hill, where the Battalion was to concentrate for continued combat from that area. Once the Battalion regrouped at Sapper Hill, at 1115 hours, it received orders to retreat to the town. From that moment, the Company joined the rest of the Unit, packed their equipment, and entered Port Stanley. By 1430 hours, the Battalion was already assembled near the Naval Station, and at 1900 hours, OBRA Company, with the bulk of the Battalion, settled in the Naval Station's Carpentry, remaining there until the morning of 16 June when they received orders to move to the Concentration Camp being set up on the airport peninsula. Before entering the area, they had to pass through British control posts, where their weapons were finally confiscated.

Pre and Postwar Argentine Aircrafts

Foreign Aircraft in Postwar Argentine Aviation

North American Northrop 8A-2. Foto Revista LIFE.

Northrop Model 8A-2

 

Model 8A-2
Version for Argentina. Equipped with fixed landing gear, ventral gun position, and powered by an 840 hp (626 kW) Wright R-1820-G3 Cyclone engine. 30 units built.

The Northrop A-17, a development of the Northrop Gamma 2F, was a two-seat, single-engine monoplane attack bomber built in 1935 by the Northrop Corporation for the U.S. Army Air Corps. (Source: Wikipedia)

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Cyclone Wright R-1820-E. Museo Smithsonian del Espacio Aéreo. corriente continua

 

 

 
North American NA-16



Curtiss Hawk 75H

 

North American Aviation NA-16 was the first trainer aircraft built by North American Aviation, Inc., and marked the beginning of a line of American training aircraft that would eventually exceed 17,000 units.

Developed into:

• North American BT-9

• T-6 Texan

• North American P-64

• CAC Wirraway

The NA-16 was a single-engine, low-wing monoplane with tandem open cockpits and fixed landing gear. It was powered by a 400 hp air-cooled Wright Whirlwind radial engine. Although primarily of metal construction, the rear fuselage was fabric-covered.

The NA-16 first flew on April 1, 1935, and was sent to the United States Army Air Corps for evaluation as a basic trainer. The Army accepted the trainer for production but requested several significant modifications. These included replacing the Wright engine with a Pratt & Whitney R-1340, enclosing the cockpits, and adding fairings to the landing gear. The modified NA-16 was redesignated by North American as the NA-18, with production models entering Air Corps service as the North American BT-9 (NA-19).

In Australia, the Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation (CAC) produced 755 units of a modified version of the NA-16, known locally as the Wirraway, between 1939 and 1946.

Additionally, two NA-16 trainers were supplied to the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service for evaluation in 1938, designated as KXA1 and KXA2.

(Source: Wikipedia)

 
 
 

Curtiss Hawk 75

 

 

 

Gloster Meteor F4

 

100 units were exported to Argentina, and they saw action on both sides during the 1955 revolution, with one aircraft lost on September 19, 1955.

The Argentine Air Force ordered 50 Meteor F.4s in May 1947, which included 50 ex-RAF aircraft and 50 newly built units. Deliveries began in July of that year. The Meteor remained in service until 1970, when the last aircraft were replaced by the Dassault Mirage III.

 

 

Brístol F.2B



Aeronaves militares y civiles en 1948. Fuente: "La Aeronautica Nacional al servicio del pais"

 

Avro Lincoln



 

 

 
Vickers "Vickings" cargo aircrafts

 


 
Bristol Tipo 170  Cargo plane

 
Douglas DC-4

 
De Havilland "Dove"


 
Canberra Mk 62

Surviving Examples

 

The Argentine Air Force received 27 Model 139W/WAA aircraft.

 

The only complete surviving B-10 is on display at the National Museum of the United States Air Force at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, near Dayton, Ohio. The aircraft is painted to represent a B-10 used during the 1934 Alaska Flight. It is actually an export version sold to Argentina in 1938.

The aircraft survived as a ground crew training platform, and the Argentine Air Force continued using it to train personnel well into the 1960s. The U.S. Air Force Museum conducted an extensive search for surviving B-10 parts and eventually discovered this aircraft.

In 1970, the incomplete fuselage was formally donated by the Argentine government to the United States government, in a ceremony attended by the U.S. ambassador.

The aircraft was restored by the 96th Maintenance Squadron (Mobile), Air Force Reserve, at Kelly Air Force Base, Texas, between 1973 and 1976, and was put on display in 1976.

(Source: Wikipedia)