Argentine Army: Roca's Pardon for Soldier Evaristo Sosa

The day Roca saved a man sentenced to death half an hour before the execution

The general was president and granted a pardon to a soldier imprisoned for attacking a superior who had mistreated him. The details of the decision.

By Luciana Sabina || Infobae



Evaristo Sosa, the soldier “saved” by Julio A. Roca

In January 1902, the country was on edge for days following the death sentence of soldier Evaristo Sosa, a humble-born serviceman who, after being subjected to mistreatment, attempted to take the life of a superior. The press captured the social outrage sparked by the sentence, whose outcome was worthy of a suspense novel.

On January 3, 1902, Sosa, a volunteer soldier with six years of service in the national army, was arrested drunk in a store, an act that, according to reports of the time, "caused disturbances." He was immediately taken to Campo de Mayo (Argentine Army Headquarters). There, he was placed under the charge of Second Lieutenant Ramírez, whose first name, curiously, was not mentioned in the accounts of those years. As punishment, Sosa was sentenced to a “plantón” — the military obligation to stand guard without relief — for six hours, although he only completed three.

The "Sosa Case" caused a great stir in its time

After serving his punishment and being released, the condemned Sosa became enraged. He then took his regulation weapon and, in the early hours of January 4, went to the room of the second lieutenant, who was dozing in a rocking chair. With almost no words exchanged, he fired his Mauser carbine at him, destroying part of the officer's face. Sosa was imprisoned without resistance and stated that he attacked the officer because he had punished him in a "demeaning manner." Ramírez, meanwhile, was transferred to the Military Hospital, where he managed to recover. For this attack, the assailant ended up shackled and brought before a military tribunal, which sentenced him to death.

The sentence was handed down on January 17 and was to be carried out the following day. Soon, society mobilized to prevent it, aware that Sosa's reaction was the result of the well-known mistreatment inflicted on lower-ranking members of the Army. A group of Buenos Aires women even went to request a pardon from then-President Julio Argentino Roca. However, they received no response.

Meanwhile, the press denounced the situation nationwide, highlighting how abhorrent it was. While the death penalty was legal in the country, it caused immense social rejection.

As the hours passed, the impotence of many grew. That night, Evaristo Sosa did not sleep. At 5 a.m., they came for him to begin the routine ordeal to which prisoners were subjected before being executed. His composure did not falter, despite the terrible night he had spent under the weight of his sentence.

He was placed "en capilla" under a tent, a concept that warrants explanation. The term refers to the space occupied by any condemned prisoner while awaiting execution. As historian Carlos Riviera points out, it originates "from a tradition at the ancient University of Salamanca [Spain], where doctoral candidates, the day before defending their thesis before the tribunal, had to confine themselves for an entire day in the chapel of Saint Barbara in the old cathedral of Salamanca to seek enlightenment from the Holy Spirit. There, they had to prepare in complete solitude, as even their meals were passed to them through a small window."

Sosa was placed “en capilla” during the night he awaited execution

Returning to Sosa, half an hour after being "placed en capilla," he was visited by a priest who held Mass near the tent. The soldier, deeply moved, took Communion, impressing the few witnesses present with his demeanor. Shortly after, he received visits from some comrades to bid farewell and find comfort in the face of his imminent end. One of them strummed a melancholic tune on a guitar and sang its verses, further unsettling the condemned man.

As emotion overtook the small group of soldiers, moving everyone to tears, the surroundings were filled with noise and activity. The magazine Caras y Caretas covered the event in detail. Among other things, it reported that Commander Rostagno, the military secretary to the President of the Republic, arrived "carrying a note for the senior commander of the forces."

"‘The pardon!’ murmured most, as the rumor spread throughout the camp, even though preparations for the execution continued, keeping Sosa isolated," the magazine recounted.

They were not mistaken. At the very last moment, Julio Argentino Roca decided to grant the longed-for pardon. However, the soldier misunderstood the situation and cried out in despair: "I have half an hour to live!"

Roca decided to pardon the prisoner

But the panic lasted only a few minutes, and Sosa regained his composure upon seeing a group of commanders and officers arrive at his tent. Caras y Caretas reported: "They were the bearers of the good news, who at first merely hinted at a glimmer of hope to avoid what was feared (...) They allowed Lieutenant García to notify the prisoner of the commutation—as he had informed him of the sentence the day before. The poor soldier collapsed onto a bench, seized by a terrible nervous breakdown that alarmed the doctors, making them fear a cardiac syncope. He registered 120 beats per minute initially, which then dropped so quickly that ether inhalations had to be applied to help him recover."

"The tent was then cleared, and Sosa asked to be left alone for a moment. Shortly after, he fell into a heavy, leaden sleep. Meanwhile, the entire camp showed visible signs of relief, with the good news spreading among commanders, officers, and soldiers alike. More than 500 people from the capital and nearby towns had come to Campo de Mayo, and all of them carried away the joyful impression of the atmosphere that, just moments earlier, had been prepared for a grim execution," the publication detailed.

Evaristo, a native of the province of Mendoza, was married to Teresa Espíndola and had a young son, nine years old. It is easy to imagine the happiness of them all.

Undoubtedly, the person most surprised by the news of the commutation of the sentence was the condemned man himself, who experienced an episode of mental disarray just a few hours later.

The entire country had anticipated Roca's intervention. While Sosa's actions were undeniably criminal, many regarded them as a natural reaction to the mistreatment soldiers faced at the time. Furthermore, the Supreme Military Council that issued the sentence disregarded the involvement of the Ministry of War, stating it was beyond its jurisdiction. This was seen as a significant affront to the Executive Branch.

Despite receiving the news with relief, public opinion criticized Roca for waiting until the last moment instead of acting sooner.

"It would have been more humane to act earlier," Caras y Caretas remarked at the time, "since the prisoner, as we said from the start, worn down by so many emotions and convinced that his offense would not be met with mercy, has experienced a significant physical and moral decline. Clear signs of mental distress had been evident for days, and on Friday morning, after learning of the commutation, it was necessary to transfer him to the Military Hospital."

Indeed, under such extreme suffering, Sosa lost his sanity and spent months hospitalized. He deluded himself into thinking he had bullets in his chest, believing he had been executed by firing squad.

Once he recovered, he was imprisoned again. In 1909, he was transferred to the military prison in Ushuaia, where he worked as a muleteer. From that point on, his name faded into the pages of oblivion.

But this was not the only person from Mendoza whom Roca pardoned in 1902. Another singular episode occurred in July of that year.

In Mendoza, Juan Rodríguez was imprisoned for murdering a pregnant woman and her husband to steal a meager sum of money. The crime, which took place in the department of Rivadavia, caused great public outcry. From the presidency, a telegram arrived approving the execution of the accused, with the support of the governor and the Mendoza judiciary. The shock in Mendoza and the rest of the nation was indescribable when, through another communication, General Roca himself declared the initial telegram to be fraudulent.

It was later revealed that the author of the telegram was none other than his own son and personal secretary, Dr. Julio A. Roca. The improper and informal nature of this procedure put both the president and the Mendoza governor under scrutiny. As a result, Rodríguez’s life was spared.

Beyond these particular cases, it is important to highlight the strong societal rejection of the death penalty. At the beginning of the 20th century, the liberal press referred to it as "an act of barbarity, far removed from the civilized society we aspire to be." Years later, socialists, particularly Alfredo Palacios, joined the fight for its abolition.

Finally, in 1922, with the reform of the Penal Code, the death penalty was abolished in Argentina.

1955 Revolution: Aftermath

The people of Bahía Blanca take to the streets to celebrate the triumph of the Revolution.

Aftermath



Joy and happiness in the crowd after Perón resignation

Thus concluded the first Argentine armed conflict of the 20th century, which, in just seven days of fighting, claimed the lives of nearly a thousand people. The casualties included civilians and soldiers—men, women, children, and the elderly. The majority of the deaths occurred on June 16 during the bombing of Buenos Aires, when 229 victims were identified in hospitals, clinics, and public aid facilities. However, the true death toll was far higher, as Dr. Francisco Barbagallo notes in Daniel Cichero's Bombs Over Buenos Aires. The chaos was so overwhelming that tracking the countless bodies transported by ambulances and trucks became impossible.

To grasp the scale of the attack, it is worth noting that 14,000 kilograms (14 tons) of explosives were dropped that day—half the amount used in the bombing of Guernica—yet the death toll was nearly equivalent to that of the Spanish city.

On that day, 43 rebel aircraft carried out the assault: twenty North American AT-6s, five Beechcraft AT-11s, three Catalinas, one Fiat G-55A Centauro reconnaissance aircraft dispatched to Rosario to contact General Bengoa, and ten rebel Gloster Meteors. Additionally, four aircraft initially refused to counter the attack but later joined the rebellion. Including loyalist aircraft, the total number of planes involved exceeded fifty.


Celebrations in Bahía Blanca

On June 16, 1955, the Air Force and Naval Aviation took their first baptisms of fire; the first two shoot-downs in the national aeronautical history occurred when the AT-6s of midshipmen Arnaldo Román and Eduardo Bisso were hit by the enemy, the first by shrapnel from the Gloster Meteor of Lieutenant Ernesto Adradas over the Río de la Plata and the second by anti-aircraft guns from the 3rd Regiment of La Tablada in the town of Tristán Suárez, Buenos Aires, not counting the Gloster that, due to lack of fuel, crashed into the waters of the Plata, between Carmelo and Colonia. That day also saw the first shoot-down carried out by a jet on the American continent (that of midshipman Romás by Lieutenant Adradas) and the entry into action of the tanks when a Sherman of the Motorized Regiment “Buenos Aires” fired on the Ministry of the Navy.


Victorious leaders. From left to right: CN Arturo Rial, Dr. Clemente Villada Achaval, General Julio A. Lagos, General Eduardo Lonardi, General Dalmiro Videla Balaguer and Commodore Julio César Krausse

Buenos Aires became the first (and so far, only) capital in South America to endure a large-scale aerial bombardment, joining the ranks of only a few cities worldwide to have suffered such an attack. It shares this tragic distinction with Gibara in Cuba, bombed by President Machado's air force in 1931, and Puerto Casado in Paraguay, targeted by the Bolivian Air Force in 1933. However, both of these events pale in comparison to the scale of the bombardment in Buenos Aires.

During the attacks, numerous locations in the city were hit, with the main targets including the Government House, Plaza de Mayo, the National Mortgage Bank, the Ministry of Finance, the Army Ministry (Libertador Building), Hotel Mayo, the Central Police Department, the CGT headquarters, the Ministry of Public Works, the Patagonia Import and Export Company, various buildings along Av. Paseo Colón, the service station of the Argentine Automobile Club, and the presidential residence at Unzué Palace.

Additionally, La Tablada suffered heavy damage as the 3rd Infantry Regiment was strafed and bombed on Av. Crovara and Av. San Martín while marching toward the city center. The Ministry of the Navy was also struck during an attack by Army units, and the Banco Nación was hit as revolutionary civilian commandos took refuge on its rooftop.

On September 16, Argentina witnessed its first air-naval battle when the Peronist Air Force engaged the Ríos Squadron. Mar del Plata was also bombed, initially by a lone naval aircraft and later by Navy ships targeting large coastal oil deposits, the Submarine Base, Army positions on a nearby golf course, and the Camet Anti-Aircraft Artillery Regiment.

Three days later, the submarine Santiago del Estero entered combat for the first time, using its 40 mm Bofors cannon to fire on unidentified aircraft near Montevideo. The towns of Saavedra and Río Colorado also fell victim to aerial bombardments during this period.


The Plaza de Mayo is packed, cheering on the Revolution that overthrew the tyrannical president

In that revolution, the greatness and miseries of war were fully exposed: acts of heroism and resolve, reckless actions, brutal deeds, weaknesses, and betrayals.

On June 16, it became evident that a significant portion of the population was willing to fight for Perón to the death. That day, thousands of workers took to the streets to arm themselves and fight for their leader. Dozens died in combat, most during the attack on the Ministry of the Navy. Similarly, on September 21, an unidentified number of fervent members of the Alianza Libertadora Nacionalista perished during revolutionary troops' assault on their headquarters.

There were soldiers who fulfilled their mission according to the training they had received, such as the much-criticized Lieutenant Adradas, who simply did his duty, or Vice-Commodore Síster, steadfast in his determination to defend the Peronist regime. Others failed to rise to the occasion. Some military figures upheld their honor, like Admiral Benjamín Gargiulo, who, like ancient Roman generals, chose to take his own life rather than face disgrace. There were officers willing to die rather than surrender, including General Lonardi, Colonel Arturo Ossorio Arana, Captains Perren and Rial, Commodore Krausse, Majors Montiel Forzano and Juan Francisco Guevara, Colonel Arias Duval, Captain Ramón Eduardo Molina, and the somewhat reckless Dalmiro Videla Balaguer, all on the rebel side. Others fell in combat, such as Brigadier General Tomás Vergara Ruzo and numerous aviators, soldiers, and sailors who fought valiantly on both sides.

On the loyalist side, the resolve and professionalism of generals like Franklin Lucero, Miguel Ángel Iñíguez, and José María Sosa Molina, Lieutenant Colonel César Camilo Arrechea, Captain Hugo Crexell, and many others stood out, honoring their respective branches of service. The Argentine honor also shone aboard the destroyers La Rioja and Cervantes, and in the steadfastness of the personnel in Bahía Blanca and Punta Alta, who held firm in their posts against powerful advancing forces.

However, there were also ambiguous and wavering actions, such as those of Admiral Olivieri, Generals Bengoa, Lagos, and even Aramburu. Lieutenant Colonel Barto displayed indecision and despair during the regiments’ advance toward southern Buenos Aires. Similarly, First Lieutenant Rogelio Balado, one of the regime’s iconic pilots, switched sides and, during combat, refused to fire on an enemy Avro Lincoln that had just strafed loyalist positions at the Pajas Blancas airfield. Captain Bernardo Benesch did the same when ordered to attack targets in Mar del Plata on June 19. (Before setting sail, he had offered dissenting officers and sailors the opportunity to leave the ship and return to shore, though he himself did not follow through.) Captain Edgardo Andrew also hesitated, asking Captain Rial to revoke the order to bomb the 5th Infantry Regiment in Bahía Blanca, which was refusing to surrender.

During the second phase of the revolution, over 70 combat and patrol sorties were conducted, and the main regiments and military units from Buenos Aires, Córdoba, Mendoza, San Luis, and Patagonia were mobilized.

Rear Admiral Toranzo Calderón upon arriving at the Municipality of Bahia Blanca

On September 21, 1955, as the final acts of the conflict concluded, an atmosphere of anticipation lingered across the country. While government emissaries and representatives of the rebel forces engaged in negotiations, combat units in Córdoba began their gradual return to base.

That same day, news of the revolutionary forces’ victory spread, prompting the people of Córdoba to flood the streets in celebration of the regime’s fall. Crowds gathered at Plaza San Martín, in front of the ruined Cabildo building, adorned with three Argentine flags, cheering for the leading figures of the rebellion. Thousands of men and women entered the adjacent Cathedral to give thanks to the Lord and the Holy Mother for the end of the conflict. Meanwhile, a jubilant procession of cars, motorcycles, trucks, buses, and pedestrians filled the streets, chanting in support of the revolution, its leaders, and the nation’s heroes.

Two days earlier, Bahía Blanca had erupted in similar enthusiasm. Residents filled the streets, cheering, singing, and waving flags while wearing sky-blue and white ribbons and rosettes. Portraits of San Martín, Belgrano, and Our Lord Jesus Christ were prominently displayed. Outside the CGT building, crowds sang the National Anthem, symbolizing the defiance of the fallen regime, and applauded Admirals Toranzo Calderón and Olivieri as they arrived at Bahía Blanca’s municipal headquarters after their release from detention in La Pampa. In front of the burned-out offices of the Democracia newspaper and the Bernardino Rivadavia Public Library, the crowd shouted, “Death to Perón!” and “Long live the Fatherland and Liberty!”

Toranzo Calderon in the Municipality of Bahia Blanca

On September 21, back in their respective units and after a refreshing hot bath, cadets and conscripts from the Military Aviation and Airborne Troops schools in Córdoba were informed that the next day they were going to participate in the parades that had been held to commemorate the victory.
On the 22nd, very early in the morning, the soldiers formed up in the courtyards of both schools to head into the city to parade with the Army troops and civilian commandos who had taken part in the battle. The Cadet's Diary is graphic in recounting the events.

"The unit remains in the same condition as always... All the officers gathered with General Lonardi at the Cadet Casino, which is why we couldn’t contact F... to request a replacement. When we finally managed to, he told us there was only one tent left with a cadet and 16 soldiers. We worked like mad to take down the tents and move them to the Squadron. Once we finished everything, we went to the unit, and there, among the three group leaders, the 'exciting' draw took place to decide who would stay... If it had been me, I would have had to muster a great deal of willpower to remain, but luck was on my side; of course, it fell to the 'Turk.' Poor guy, he won’t be any better off than I am."

Rear Admiral Samuel Toranzo Calderon arrives in Bahia Blanca

Thus, the troops boarded military trucks and buses and headed toward the provincial capital where, upon reaching Av. Vélez Sarsfield, they dismounted to begin the parade. They did so after a long wait, in front of the population who cheered them and threw flowers at them while a shower of papers fell from nearby buildings to the cry of “Freedom! Freedom!” which could be heard everywhere.
After the parade, the troops returned to the barracks to continue their activities during peacetime, unaware that the following day would claim the life of another comrade.
During a patrol and observation flight, the Calquin I.Ae-24 of the 2nd Attack Group, piloted by Second Lieutenant Edgardo Tercillo Panizza, crashed on the outskirts of the city due to mechanical problems.


Officers welcome their boss after his release

Once they had heard of this, cadets and officers headed towards the site, first crossing the Aeronautical District, with the intention of seeing the remains of the aircraft that was still smoking on the field. Once there, they came across the remains, observing them in silence while meditating on the events that had taken place in the previous days and the course that history would take from that moment on.
Mar del Plata also joined in the celebrations with long human columns parading through its streets to the City Hall, to sing the National Anthem and wave flags.
On September 23, the fronts of the city woke up decorated with the colors blue and white; around 10:00 there was a new march to the government palace where rosettes, ribbons and flowers were distributed as in the days of May and the celebrations continued in different places until late at night.
Argentina was beginning a new path; An era had ended and another had begun, but the disagreement between brothers was not going to end there. The country would never find its way again and society would continue to crumble to unsuspected limits.

Notes

[1] Gargiulo was the creator of IMARA (Argentine Marines), infusing the spirit of the US Marines into their training and enlistment..

Photos: Miguel Ángel Cavallo, Puerto Belgrano. Hora Cero. la Marina se subleva

1955 Guerra Civil. La Revolucion Libertadora y la caída de Perón

Malvinas: The Counter Attack of the "3 de Oro" at Wireless Ridge

The Counterattack of the "3 de Oro" (Golden 3) (Part 1)

By Lt. Col. (R) (Malvinas War Veteran) Víctor Hugo Rodríguez

The author served in the Malvinas as a First Lieutenant, Chief of the 1st Section of Company "A" of the 3rd Mechanized Infantry Regiment "Gral. Belgrano," nicknamed "3 de Oro" (Golden 3) during the Triple Alliance War, due to the yellow breastplate that adorned their blue jackets.





June 13, 1982, 22:00 hours — Tumbledown Hill, overlooking Moody Brook Valley. To the left was Longdon; in front, the 7th Infantry Regiment of La Plata was enduring relentless fire for two days, June 11th and 12th. It was hell. Positioned 100 meters above them and 5 kilometers away, we witnessed how the British enemy left no centimeter unscathed by naval, artillery, and mortar fire. It was clear they were preparing an assault on the regiment's heights. Occasionally, they turned their attention to us, a forewarning of their advance towards Tumbledown.

Below Longdon, Captain Soloaga—a war hero who carried his Sanmartinian values into peace—"clung like an oyster" to the rocks. His men were already fighting, enduring an infernal bombardment day and night. From our vantage point, we watched, both awestruck and helpless, as their resilience unfolded. Occasionally, patrols emerged—but only to retrieve their fallen and place them in an abandoned ambulance stuck in the valley's mud before returning to combat. Watching them march back into that artillery barrage was profoundly moving.
At 22:00 hours on June 13th, Captain Zunino, commander of Company A "Tacuarí" of the "3 de Oro," summoned us. A remarkable officer for wartime, Zunino convened 2nd Lt. Dobrovevic (support group leader), 2nd Lt. Mones Ruiz (2nd rifle section), Sub-Lt. Aristegui (3rd section leader), and me (1st section leader).

“We need to support the 7th Regiment, which is under attack on those heights,” he said.”. 

We knew the terrain only by sight—no reconnaissance had been done. The day before, we had deployed to Tumbledown, abandoning previous positions. Defending our spot against the expected assault the next day was our sole focus. Our positions consisted of low rocks; our aluminum screw-shovel “Tempex” tools had broken within a week, unable to withstand the greda soil. Digging foxholes was impossible. Equipment? Just a blanket, a shared tent cloth, and only five magazines per soldier. Night vision? Only the captain had one. Radios? None. Batteries were dead, leaving us with no communication within or outside the company. To supplement ammo, I ordered rounds carried in socks tied around our necks.



Aristegui, a 4th-year cadet serving as a "commissioned sub-lieutenant" in the Malvinas, was barely older than his soldiers. Yet, he was an example of leadership. I said,

“Aristegui, form up. You take the right, and I'll take the left. Let's cross the valley quickly and head for the heights.”. 

The battlefield was chaos—roaring, blazing, hellish. Longdon, the valley, Wireless Ridge where the 7th Regiment was positioned, Port Argentino, Mount Williams—all were alight with tracer rounds and rocket fire. It was full-on war, the final assault. We waded through a freezing brook, soaked to the waist. Snow fell. The cold? I can’t remember. The adrenaline heated our bodies.

From the valley, we realized the heights, where the 7th Regiment was supposed to meet us, were instead occupied by British forces, firing rifles and rockets at the abandoned Royal Marines barracks. Without communication, we had to resolve it on our own. I turned to Aristegui:

“The enemy’s up there. Let’s surprise them. Don’t advance straight—move to the right, gain the height advantage.”

Moments later, I heard, 

“The sub-lieutenant’s been hit in the neck!” 

I ran to him, blood pouring from his neck, when one of his men, slapping his cheek, shouted:

"You’ve been good to us, kid. We’ll get you out of here."

They carried him back to safety. Today, Aristegui, nicknamed “Nono,” is an exemplary Malvinas officer, earning the respect of his soldiers at just 19 years old. The bullet had pierced his neck, narrowly missing his spine..

Still in the valley, the enemy illuminated us with flares. Forty of Aristegui’s men and forty of mine were exposed. Knowing artillery fire was imminent, I ordered an assault on their positions, 100 meters above us on Wireless Ridge’s heights. Seconds later, an artillery barrage rained down where we had stood moments earlier. The shells exploded 50 meters overhead, showering us with lethal fragments.

“Charge!” I yelled. There was no other option to reach the heights and support the 7th Regiment. What a sight—my soldiers and Aristegui’s, running uphill, driven by sheer determination. “Cata” Carballo, my speedy aide; “Mono” Paz, my radioman without a radio; Aumasane, Izaguirre, “Bombón” Díaz, Juan Fernández—young men from Buenos Aires, cold, hungry, yet filled with love for their country, surging from the valley to claim that piece of Malvinas soil.

They were just 18 years old. They had little food, no communications, yet an unyielding spirit. To think the tabloids later dismissed them as mere “boys of war”...

Argentine Air Force: IA-58 Pucará, the Indigenous COIN Aircraft

Argentine Army: TAM Combat Vehicled Modernized to 2C A2 Standard

Malvinas: A Critical View of "The Mistake of Marching in Broad Daylight"

Critics to "The Error of Errors"

In the photo, commandos of the 601 operating in the San Carlos area in broad daylight.

Excerpt taken from the book "Comandos en Malvinas - La otra historia," chapter "Analysis of Operations." written by some Manuel De Remiro Oyón.

We have all read countless times that the great mistake made by the Argentine commandos at Top Malo was entering the house to spend the night. But what would have happened if no one had seen them enter?

...However, if the commandos of the 602 Company committed a mistake worthy of going down in history — one that stands out above all others — it was their decision to start marching immediately after being dropped off by helicopters, in broad daylight, no less. Once on the ground, the grave mistake of flying in during the morning was already irreparable, but to immediately begin moving toward the summit of Mount Simon was, without a doubt, an almost suicidal act. It was certainly a reckless move, and it makes it abundantly clear that these men had no idea what they were doing.

The terrain of the Malvinas, consisting primarily of hills and vegetationless plains, facilitated long-distance observation. This allowed British observers, hidden in advantageous positions within their observation posts (OPs) and equipped with telescopes, to monitor the terrain for many kilometers around them.

Once on the ground, an alternative course of action that Vercesi could have chosen, as a lesser evil, would have been to remain motionless. The men could have hidden as best they could, waiting for nightfall, hoping their infiltration had gone unnoticed or trusting that, if they had been detected, the British would not have time to react.

But moving during daylight? On terrain like the Malvinas? And, on top of that, climbing a height? It was a completely irrational decision that true commandos would never have made, especially in a situation where British dominance was already well established.

But one didn’t need to be a commando to know that. A simple conscript soldier doing his military service, if he had paid attention to his theoretical lessons, would know that you don’t do that. One doesn’t even need to be a soldier. It’s just common sense. An eight-year-old child who regularly plays hide-and-seek would understand that if you don’t want to be seen in an open, well-lit area, you simply don’t move.

To a British observer hidden among the rocks of a hill, scanning the terrain intently, a man loaded with equipment moving across the Malvinas peat bogs, no matter what camouflage he wore, would stand out like a black dot against the predominantly soft hues of the peatlands.

If the distance was too great, the observer wasn’t paying attention, or he was already tired, there was a slim chance the man might not be detected. But if that one man carrying equipment is accompanied by twelve more, and, on top of that, they are made to ascend a mountain or hill — or descend from it — and, to make it even worse, do so over snow, as they did on the 30th, then the march of the commandos of the 1st Section of the 602 became something akin to lighting a match in a dark room. It was as if they were shouting, “Hey guuuuys, we’re heeere!”

This reckless practice was common among the patrols of the GOE, the 601, the 602, the APCA, and the APBT.

Critics to the above story

The presented text attempts to analyze the performance of the Argentine commandos at Top Malo during the Falklands War, but it does so with an excessively emotional approach, rife with oversimplifications and a notable lack of historical or strategic rigor. Instead of offering a balanced and well-founded analysis, it resorts to disproportionate criticism and absurd comparisons, disregarding the complexity of the events.

To begin with, the tone is blatantly scathing, almost offensive, and focuses more on disparaging the Argentine soldiers than on examining the real conditions of their mission. Phrases like "almost suicidal act" or "they had no idea what they were doing" are not only unnecessary but also demonstrate an absolute ignorance of the operational circumstances. It is evident that the decisions made at Top Malo were constrained by external factors: superior orders, time constraints, logistical pressure, and an environment where the British had clear technological and tactical advantages. Criticizing these decisions without considering these limitations reveals a misunderstanding of how war operates in real scenarios.

The author points out that moving during the day was an "irrational" mistake and compares it to something that "even an eight-year-old child playing hide and seek would understand." Such statements are not only insulting but also simplistic. Military operations are not reduced to children's games or basic logic dictated by intuition. Missions are carried out under specific constraints, and in the case of Top Malo, it is likely that the Argentine commandos had no other choice but to advance. Remaining stationary in an exposed terrain, where the British already had advanced observers equipped with telescopes, also did not guarantee success. The text avoids exploring these options and limits itself to ridicule, reflecting a lack of depth in the analysis.

Another serious issue is the historical decontextualization. The author criticizes the Argentine commandos as if they were expected to operate under the standards of British or modern special forces, ignoring that resources, training, and experience were significantly different. It is true that the British had technological, aerial, and logistical superiority, but placing exclusive blame on the Argentine soldiers for questionable decisions in such an unequal environment is unfair and reveals an evident bias.

The terrain of the Falklands, described as "plains without vegetation," is also not as simple as the author portrays. Although the terrain was largely open, it also featured undulations and low-lying areas that could offer limited concealment. The text fails to consider whether the commandos attempted to take advantage of these features or whether the daytime movement was an operational necessity rather than an imprudent choice.

Although the author is correct in pointing out that moving during the day in exposed terrain is extremely risky, the criticism loses strength by failing to analyze why this decision might have been made. It is easy to criticize with the benefit of historical hindsight and the absence of pressure, but in the battlefield, decisions are made with limited information, under extreme stress, and with deadlines that do not always allow for the ideal choice.

Finally, the text not only exaggerates in its criticism of the Argentine commandos but also makes unfounded generalizations. It claims that such practices were "common" among all units, from the GOE to the 602, without providing concrete evidence to support this accusation. Additionally, the use of metaphors like "lighting a match in a dark room" may be striking, but it adds nothing to the tactical understanding of what occurred.

In conclusion, this text is neither a serious nor objective analysis of the events at Top Malo, but rather a critique laden with prejudice and superficiality. It ignores the context, omits operational constraints, and relies more on disdain than on solid strategic analysis. While it raises some valid ideas, such as the importance of avoiding movement in exposed terrain during daylight, these are buried under a torrent of sarcasm and generalizations that trivialize the complexity of war and the sacrifice of the soldiers involved. A true analysis would require empathy, rigor, and a deeper understanding of the facts—something this text, unfortunately, fails to achieve.

Beagle Crisis: Argentine Intelligence Tames Pinochet

The Art of Taming: When Argentina Took the SK-105s from Chile

Esteban McLaren for FDRA

Imagine you have a serious problem with a neighbor. You buy a rifle for self-defense. Then, you find out your neighbor plans to buy a shotgun for the same purpose. You take advantage of this information, outbid them, and end up with the shotgun too. Now your neighbor is doubly disadvantaged: not only do they lack a weapon, but they've helped you double your arsenal. This is exactly how Argentina turned the provision of armored defense in Southern Patagonia into a zero-sum game: what Chile lost, Argentina gained. A historic taming!

The intelligence operation to re-acquire the Steyr SK-105 Kürassier light tanks is one of the most intriguing stories in South American military intelligence, involving Argentina and Chile during a period of heightened bilateral tension. The Steyr SK-105 Kürassiers obtained by the Argentine Army in the early 1980s originally came from a batch built for Chile. In 1981, these tanks quickly arrived at armored units in Patagonia, a high-tension region. To secure these vehicles, Argentine authorities had to pay a premium, which not only immediately bolstered their armored capabilities but also prevented Chile’s military modernization. Although costly, the maneuver placed Argentina in a position of clear mechanized superiority.

Historical Context

In the 1970s, relations between Argentina and Chile were extremely tense, partly due to territorial disputes like the Beagle Channel conflict. By 1978, the situation had escalated to the brink of armed conflict. In this context, both countries began strengthening their military capabilities.

It sounds like a geopolitical and military nightmare—a scenario where meticulous planning is thwarted by factors beyond experts’ control. Imagine those Chilean technicians, analyzing every detail of southern Chile’s rugged terrain—with its steep mountains, rivers, channels, and difficult roads—carefully selecting a light tank that seemed to meet all their needs, only to find their acquisition blocked by a last-minute strategic move. This adds an emotional and historical layer of complexity to the story.

"the tanks we ordered and had manufactured for us ended up on the other side of the border"

This kind of situation represents not only a technical defeat but also a moral one, as those tanks—designed to tackle similar challenges in rugged terrain—are now in the hands of a neighboring nation with whom there are historical tensions. It also reflects the geopolitical dynamics of the region, where arms purchases depend not only on technical capabilities but also on international alliances and rivalries.

The irony that all that technical and logistical effort ended up indirectly benefiting the "enemy" would be devastating for those involved. Moreover, it highlights the fragility of national security when relying on external suppliers for defense equipment and how an unexpected shift can significantly alter the balance of power in a volatile region like the Southern Cone of South America.

On the other hand, it underscores the importance of diplomacy and intelligence in military acquisitions, where not only the equipment’s capabilities are evaluated but also the reliability of trade partners and the potential geopolitical consequences of such acquisitions.

Chile's decision to acquire the Austrian SK-105 Kürassier light tank in the 1980s was shaped by a complex geopolitical and military context, influenced by various constraints and the country's specific operational needs.

A context of restrictions and sanctions

During the 1970s and 80s, Chile, under Augusto Pinochet's dictatorship, faced significant international restrictions on arms purchases, largely due to sanctions imposed by various Western countries and the UN in response to the regime’s human rights violations. These restrictions limited Chile’s options for acquiring military equipment from countries with whom it had traditionally maintained defense trade relations, such as the United States and certain European nations. For example:

1. United States: The U.S. imposed an arms embargo on Chile following the 1973 coup, which prevented Chile from acquiring American-made military equipment.
2. United Kingdom: While there were some sales to Chile, tensions and restrictions persisted due to internal policy and international pressure.
3. Another European Countries: Several European countries also adopted restrictive policies on arms sales to Chile due to sanctions over human rights violations, with Austria eventually adhering to these restrictions under strong internal pressure.

Austria's Choice and the SK-105 Kürassier

In this context, Austria emerged as a viable option for Chile, as it was not aligned with the power blocs imposing sanctions. Being a neutral country and not part of NATO, Austria faced no significant political restrictions on arms sales to Chile at that time. Additionally, Austria’s defense industry was seeking to expand its markets, and the SK-105 Kürassier presented an opportunity for them.

Features of the SK-105 and Its Suitability for Chile's Needs

The SK-105 Kürassier was designed by Austria as a light tank intended for territorial defense, particularly suited for mountainous and rugged terrain, aligning well with Chile’s geographic needs, given its extensive mountainous regions along the Andes.

While similar to the AMX-13, the SK-105 Kürassier is 4 tons heavier, with a ground pressure of 0.78 kg/cm². It has a larger chassis than the French tank and is equipped with a more powerful, 320 HP water-cooled engine. The transmission is manual, featuring six forward gears and one reverse, enabling a maximum road speed of 70 km/h.

The suspension system includes five pairs of road wheels, three support rollers, and two sprockets: one tensioning and one drive. The first road wheel has a shock absorber and spring to enhance suspension.

The vehicle has an internal fuel tank of 350 liters, providing a range of 520 km on paved roads. Its main 105 mm gun, the same used on the AMX-13 105 version, can penetrate up to 360 mm of armor and is mounted on an oscillating turret.

Among the features that made the SK-105 appealing to Chile are:

• Mobility in Mountainous Terrain: With a light weight of around 17 tons and an ability to operate on difficult terrain, the SK-105 was ideal for Chile’s mountainous regions. Specifically designed for rugged landscapes, it had enhanced climbing capabilities compared to heavier combat tanks.
• Armament: Equipped with a 105 mm cannon, the SK-105 provided substantial firepower for a light tank, suitable for countering armored threats within the South American context.
• Oscillating Turret: The gun’s oscillating turret allowed for steeper firing angles than a traditional turret. This feature offered three main advantages: a high gun position that maintained weapon depression capability, a low profile enhancing battlefield concealment, and an automatic loader increasing rate of fire. However, in practice, the loader’s performance was limited. Additionally, the main gun experienced reduced recoil, thanks to the increased mass that helped dissipate energy—an advantage particularly useful in mountainous terrain.
  
• Cost and Maintenance: Compared to heavier tanks, the SK-105 was more economical to operate and maintain, making it a practical logistical and financial choice for Chile.

 

Operation Development

In the annals of military history, few operations have been as laden with intrigue and controversy as the one involving Chile, Austria, and ultimately, Argentina. This story, worthy of a cinematic thriller, begins with an ambitious order: Chile commissioned Austrian company Steyr to supply 100 SK-105 Kürassier tank destroyers, six recovery tanks, three Saurer infantry fighting vehicles, three command infantry fighting vehicles, 360 submachine guns, and 124 machine guns. The entire order totaled approximately 2.075 billion Austrian schillings, or around $148.1 million in 1978, equivalent to about $721 million in 2024 (Pilz, 1982, pp. 125-127).

Chile, amid its military dictatorship, was on the verge of receiving these Steyr SK-105 Kürassier tanks when an unexpected twist changed the course of history. Under overwhelming political pressure, the Austrian government canceled the shipment. From the outset, the order had been a source of intense controversy. In democratic Austria, selling arms to a regime accused of systematic human rights violations was unthinkable. Chilean exiles and left-wing political movements mobilized to demand that the Austrian government block the export, even though the vehicles were ready for dispatch (Kabl, 2022).

Moral justifications became the centerpiece of the protests: how could Austria, a country committed to human rights, sell arms to a dictator like Pinochet, infamous for repression and extrajudicial executions? Additionally, Austria faced a reputation dilemma for breaking such a significant contract, though some argued this impact might be "mitigated" by the availability of similar vehicles, like the French AMX-13, on other markets. There was also an attempt to secure Chile's agreement to a purchase condition: the tanks were only to be used for defense against external threats, not for internal repression—a condition difficult to enforce. Nevertheless, the shipment was canceled, and the tanks were sent to storage, sparking further controversy in Austria due to the economic losses and potential job cuts resulting from the decision.

Amid this scandal, Argentine military intelligence, always alert to new opportunities, saw a chance to turn Chile’s setback into Argentina’s gain. With the finesse of a spy thriller, Argentine intelligence orchestrated a plan to redirect the tanks to their own country. On June 15, 1981, the New York Times (click here) revealed the audacious maneuver: Argentina had purchased the Austrian vehicles at a premium, paying $32 million above Chile’s original order. The news made global waves.

Drama unfolded during the operation’s final phase. Protesters gathered at the Steyr-Werks factory, where the tanks were built, intent on blocking their shipment to Argentina. But tensions escalated violently as factory workers, furious over the potential job losses, clashed with the demonstrators, leaving 60 injured and clearing the way for the tanks to depart.

The story ended on an ironic note: the following year, Steyr, previously in a precarious financial position, moved from deficit to surplus, thanks largely to this deal. What began as a moral dispute in Austria concluded with an unexpected economic boon, reminding the world that in the complex zero-sum game of politics and war, there are always winners and losers.

In the world of diplomacy and arms sales, nothing is as it seems, and Argentina’s maneuver to redirect tanks intended for Chile is a perfect example of intrigue and corruption. It’s almost certain that Argentina’s plan involved bribes to key officials and figures in the tank delivery process. It’s worth noting that the entire arms sales process in Austria was deeply politicized—a fertile ground for under-the-table deals.

Through a clever intermediary, Argentina offered Austria a higher price than Chile’s original agreement. Thus, the tanks initially destined for Santiago ended up in Buenos Aires. But this raises an uncomfortable question: why did Austria prohibit the sale to Pinochet’s regime but not apply the same standard to Argentina’s military junta? The answer remains elusive, though Steyr’s financial troubles, which threatened the company with bankruptcy, likely played a significant role in permitting this second deal. Without Argentina’s offer, the tanks would have remained in storage, incurring costs and serving as a reminder of a bad decision. Argentina’s proposal gave Vienna a second chance to treat the matter as business rather than a principled stand.

Why was the sale to Argentina accepted? First, despite similar human rights abuses, Austria’s diplomatic relationship with Argentina was different. Austria viewed Argentina as a strategic market in South America, and the decision to sell the Kürassiers was partially influenced by economic interests and trade relations. Secondly, although Argentina was also under a military dictatorship, international scrutiny over its human rights record—while condemned—didn’t reach the same intensity in some European circles as Chile’s. This allowed the sale to be justified differently to the international community.

The story’s conclusion took place in 1981, when the first 57 Austrian SK-105 Kürassier tank destroyers were loaded onto an Argentine ship at the French port of Le Havre, bound for Argentina as part of a larger 120-unit order. By November 1982, the remaining 27 tank destroyers completed the shipment. However, Argentina and Steyr’s relationship didn’t end there; in 1985, ten additional recovery vehicles were sent, followed by four more SK-105s in 2006.

Today, these tanks are in service with the 11th Armored Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron “Colonel Juan Pascual Pringles,” headquartered in Rospentek Aike, and the 11th Tank Cavalry Regiment based in Puerto Santa Cruz. Interestingly, Rospentek Aike is located just a few kilometers from the Chilean border—a silent reminder of the tensions that once fueled this complex dance of power and deception.


11th Armored Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron “Colonel Juan Pascual Pringles” (Rospentek Aike) and 11th Tank Cavalry Regiment (Puerto Santa Cruz)

It's important to note that the operation involved not only intelligence work and potential bribery but also a disinformation tactic to ensure that Chilean authorities remained unaware of what was happening until it was too late. Chile learned through the New York Times article that "its" tanks had been redirected across the border to Argentina, forcing them to seek an alternative solution to reinforce their military capacity amidst escalating tensions with their neighbor.

Thus, what began as a straightforward commercial transaction evolved into a masterwork of international intrigue, where a company’s financial need met a nation’s military ambition. In this zero-sum game, Argentina emerged victorious, leaving Chile empty-handed and Austria with a heavy conscience—but a full treasury.

Impact and Repercussions

The operation had a significant impact on diplomatic and military relations between Argentina and Chile. While it did not trigger open conflict—primarily because Chile would have been unable to withstand a confrontation in the Southern Theater with such a military imbalance—it deepened mutual distrust and highlighted the underlying tensions of an era marked by military dictatorships and regional rivalries.

From a military perspective, Argentina successfully strengthened its tank fleet at a critical moment, albeit at a considerable cost due to the premium paid and the risks involved in the operation. Chile, meanwhile, was forced to reevaluate its arms acquisition strategies and the security of its international operations.

Reasons Why This Case Is Fascinating

This story is fascinating by various reasons:

1. Strategic Maneuvering: The operation is a textbook example of strategic maneuvering in international relations, where Argentina leveraged intelligence, diplomacy, and financial incentives to outmaneuver Chile.

2. Espionage and Disinformation: The case involved not only intelligence but also deliberate disinformation to keep Chile in the dark, creating a sense of suspense and intrigue akin to a spy thriller.

3. Moral and Political Complexity: Austria faced a moral and political dilemma—balancing economic gain against ethical concerns in dealing with military regimes—highlighting the complexities of arms sales in volatile regions.

4. Economic Motivation Meets Military Ambition: The intersection of Steyr’s financial needs and Argentina’s military ambitions turned a simple arms sale into a high-stakes game with regional repercussions.

5. Regional Power Dynamics: This case exemplifies the zero-sum nature of regional power dynamics in South America, where one country's gain directly impacted its neighbor's security and defense strategies.

6. Long-lasting Symbolism: The tanks’ final placement near the Chilean border serves as a lasting reminder of the geopolitical tensions and maneuvering between the two countries during this era.

In summary, the operation to re-acquire the Steyr SK-105 Kürassier tanks is a prime example of the complex and often murky interplay between espionage, diplomacy, and military strategy in South America during the Cold War. It’s a story that highlights how countries may resort to extraordinary methods to secure a strategic advantage in high-tension situations.

References

• Knabl, Leonhard Lorenz, Österreichische Waffenexporte in den Globalen Süden. Der Diskurs um Panzerexporte im öffentlich-rechtlichen Rundfunk, in: Historia.Scribere 14 (2022), S. 229–255. DOI 10.15203/historia.scribere.14.614
• Pilz, Peter, Die Panzermacher. Die österreichische Rüstungsindustrie und ihre Exporte, Wien 1982.