Argentina: The De-Araucanisation of Argentine Lands

The De-Araucanisation of Argentine Toponymy

Proposal for Changes to Toponymy in Argentina: Restoring the Authentic Indigenous Peoples in the Face of Araucanian/Mapuche Appropriation

Abstract

This report analyses the proposal to modify place names in Argentina by replacing those of Mapuche or Araucanian origin with names in the languages of peoples who were ancestrally settled to the east of the Andes, such as the Tehuelches or Aonikenk. The proposal is based on historical and linguistic evidence demonstrating that the Mapuche are indigenous to the western slopes of the Andes, in what is now Chile, and that their presence in Argentine Patagonia is the result of a relatively recent expansion, beginning in the seventeenth century. The work of anthropologist Rodolfo Casamiquela on this phenomenon will be reviewed, as well as the influence of foreign organisations, such as Mapuche International Links, which promote claims lacking solid historical foundations and exhibiting notable ideological bias.

 

1. Introduction

Toponymy in Argentina reflects the history of the peoples who have inhabited its territory. However, in recent decades, a movement has emerged seeking to impose a narrative portraying the Mapuche as the sole indigenous people of Patagonia, a claim that contradicts archaeological, anthropological, and linguistic research. Given the importance of historical and territorial identity, this report argues for the need to restore traditional names linked to the truly pre-existing peoples of Argentine Patagonia, primarily the Tehuelches (Aonikenk and Güŋüna Küne) and the Pampas, displacing place names imposed by the Mapuche expansion from Chile.

2. The Trans-Andean Origin of the Araucanians and Their Eastward Expansion

2.1 Historical and Anthropological Evidence

Archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence indicates that the Mapuche did not inhabit eastern Patagonia prior to the seventeenth century. In his work Who Were the Tehuelches? An Ethnicity on the Verge of Extinction (1969), Rodolfo Casamiquela refutes the notion that the Mapuche are the original inhabitants of Argentine territory, documenting their advance from Chile through a process of acculturation and subjugation of the indigenous peoples who had lived there. Casamiquela notes that the term "Araucanisation" refers to the cultural, linguistic, and political imposition of Mapuche influence over the Tehuelches and other groups east of the Andes.

The Tehuelches, comprising groups such as the Aonikenk and Güŋüna Küne, occupied vast areas of Argentine Patagonia from pre-Hispanic times. Their presence has been confirmed through archaeological studies in the central and southern plateaus of the country. In contrast, the Mapuche only appear in the region during relatively recent times, as a result of migrations and interethnic conflicts.

2.2 Linguistic and Cultural Evidence

Casamiquela also highlights the progressive disappearance of the Tehuelche languages due to the process of Mapuchisation. Prior to the seventeenth century, Argentine Patagonia was inhabited by groups who spoke languages distinct from Mapudungun. However, with the Mapuche expansion, these languages were replaced, and today only vestiges remain in toponymy and ethnographic records.

Linguist Viegas Barros (1998) reinforces this view by pointing out that the Tehuelche (Aonikenk) language has its own distinctive roots, separate from Mapudungun, further evidencing that the Aonikenk were the original inhabitants of the region prior to the arrival of the Mapuche.

2.3 The Historical Presence of the Aonikenk and the Late Arrival of the Mapuche

The Aonikenk, commonly referred to as Tehuelches or Patagonians, were the original inhabitants of Argentine Patagonia. Their presence is recorded from the time of European expeditions, such as Magellan’s in 1520 and FitzRoy and Darwin’s explorations in the nineteenth century. Anthropological and linguistic studies have confirmed their existence in the territory since pre-Columbian times.

Anthropologist and historian Rodolfo Casamiquela (1978) was a leading figure in demonstrating the prior presence of the Tehuelches in eastern Patagonia. In his work The Techno-Cultural Areas of Southern Argentina and Chile, he argues that the Mapuche migration eastward across the Andes was a relatively recent phenomenon, and that the Araucanisation of the Tehuelches was a forced process of cultural and linguistic assimilation (Casamiquela, 1978).

Casamiquela maintains that the Mapuche originated from the western side of the Andes and crossed into Argentine territory in search of new resources and trading opportunities, spurred by the introduction of horses brought by the Spanish. This process, which intensified between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, led to a linguistic and cultural replacement that eventually gave rise to the mistaken belief that the Mapuche were Patagonia’s ancestral inhabitants.

Moreover, colonial records and accounts by European travellers confirm that until the mid-eighteenth century, there is no documented Mapuche presence in the Pampas or Patagonia. In contrast, Tehuelche settlements are well documented across vast areas of modern Argentine territory (Bridges, 1948; Borrero, 2001).

3. Toponymy and the Need for Change

Toponymy in Argentina has been profoundly altered by Mapuche expansion. Many names of Tehuelche origin have been replaced by Mapudungun terms as a result of the cultural imposition suffered by these peoples. Clear examples include:

• Chubut, originally Tchubut, an Aonikenk word meaning "transparent", although later reinterpreted through a Mapuche phonetic lens.

• Neuquén, a Mapuche term that superseded previous names used by the indigenous peoples of the area.

• Río Negro, a region originally populated by the Pampas and Güŋüna Küne before the Mapuche arrival.

A process of restoring ancestral place names would be an act of historical justice, allowing the true identity of the peoples who inhabited Argentina prior to Mapuche expansion to be reclaimed.

Cities and Regions in the Province of Buenos Aires with Araucanian Names That Could Be Changed to Their Corresponding Aonikenk (or Spanish) Equivalents

4. External Interference: Mapuche International Links and Its Role in Historical Distortion

4.1 Origin and Composition of the Organisation

One of the main sources supporting the narrative of Mapuche ancestral presence in Patagonia is the organisation Mapuche International Links, whose website (https://www.mapuche-nation.org/) promotes a biased version of history. Strikingly, this organisation is headquartered in the United Kingdom and funded by British sources, raising questions about its true interests in the region.

Moreover, its composition is highly irregular: although it presents itself as an organisation defending the Mapuche people, only one of its members is of Chilean origin, while the rest are British citizens. This imbalance suggests that the organisation may be operating with a covert geopolitical agenda rather than a genuine interest in indigenous rights.

4.2 Lack of Evidence Behind Their Claims

Mapuche International Links bases its claims on oral tradition without archaeological or documentary support. Historical sources from Argentina and Chile, including the chronicles of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century missionaries and travellers, confirm that the Mapuche did not inhabit eastern Patagonia prior to the process of Araucanisation. Their arrival resulted from a series of migratory movements that, in many cases, involved the conquest and assimilation of local peoples.

The insistence on an alleged "ancestral" Mapuche presence in Argentine Patagonia lacks foundation and appears to be driven more by political and economic interests than by historical reality.

5. Conclusion and Recommendations

The revision of toponymy in Argentina is a matter of historical justice for the peoples who are truly indigenous to the territory. Given that the Mapuche presence in Argentine Patagonia is the result of a recent expansion rather than an ancestral occupation, it is necessary to restore names of Tehuelche, Aonikenk, and Pampa origin, replacing those imposed through Mapuche influence.

It is also crucial to highlight the interference of foreign organisations such as Mapuche International Links, whose agenda appears more aligned with external interests than with the historical reality of Argentina's indigenous peoples. Identifying and studying these actors will provide a clearer understanding of the political background behind the attempted manipulation of historical narratives.

The restoration of authentic toponymy not only corrects a historical distortion but also reinforces national identity and preserves the memory of the true indigenous peoples of Argentine Patagonia. Unfortunately, the Universidad Nacional de Buenos Aires — misleadingly presenting itself as a private institution under the name Universidad de Buenos Aires (UBA) — strengthens this cultural invasion by offering courses in the language of the invading group. The Universidad Nacional del Comahue is also involved in this cultural and indigenist invasion, promoting the hoisting of the Araucanian flag and endorsing absurd pre-Columbian festivities.

In light of the analysis presented, it is reasonable to propose a review of the current toponymy in Argentina with the aim of restoring names that more accurately reflect the historical and cultural identity of the region. This would involve:

• Replacing Mapuche names with Aonikenk/Tehuelche denominations, recognising their earlier presence in Patagonia and the Pampas.

• Promoting historical and linguistic research to recover the original names of rivers, mountains, and localities prior to Araucanisation.

• Raising public awareness of the true history of Argentina's indigenous peoples, avoiding ideological manipulation or foreign interests in the construction of artificial identities.

 

References

• Borrero, L. (2001). Los Tehuelches: Historia y Arqueología de un Pueblo Nómade.
• Bridges, L. (1948). Uttermost Part of the Earth.
• Casamiquela, R. (1969). ¿Quiénes eran los Tehuelches? Una etnia en vías de extinción. Buenos Aires: Eudeba.
• Viegas Barros, J. (1998). Estudios sobre la lengua tehuelche. Universidad de Buenos Aires.
• Mandrini, R. (2006). Los pueblos originarios de la Argentina: su historia desde los primeros pobladores hasta la conquista europea. Buenos Aires: Eudeba.
• Crónicas de viajeros y misioneros del siglo XVIII y XIX sobre los tehuelches y mapuches.

This report proposes a concrete action for the recovery of Patagonia’s historical identity, based on available archaeological, linguistic, and historical evidence. Below is a list of locations named using terms from the Araucanian/Mapuche language under the "Mapuche" column, with approximate translations into English and Aonikenk provided in the corresponding columns. It is proposed that Araucanian toponyms be replaced with their equivalents in either Spanish or Aonikenk.

As part of the cultural battle against false indigenism, which portrays the Araucanian people as victims, it is necessary to follow the path of historical evidence to restore the cultural heritage of the peoples who genuinely inhabited Patagonia.

Places with Araucanian Toponymy and Their Translation, Where Feasible, into the Aonikenk Language

Number	Mapuche	English	Aonikenk
1	Aconcagua	Mountain that watches
2	Aluminé	Shine at the bottom
3	Angaco	People of the heights	Chantel Al
4	Anguil	Fox	Patnk
5	Añelo	Place where one hears	Yaich Aike
6	Aruncohue	Mud place	Tako Aike
7	Atreucó	Water of thunder	Karut Katenke
8	Banderaló	Place with flags	Bandera Käiken
9	Bariloche	People behind the mountain
10	Buta Ranquil	Large corral	Chaink Uorkenk
11	Caleufú	Green river	Jestateltenk Katenke
12	Calfucurá	Blue stone	Jeshteltenk Yaten
13	Carhué	Green place	Jestateltenk Aike
14	Carilafquén	Green lake	Jestateltenk Tamle
15	Carirriñe	Place with stones	Yaten Aike
16	Carrenleufú	River of the corral	Uorkenk Katenke
17	Chachín	Thick trunk	Chaink Majen
18	Chapalcó	Muddy water	Katenke Tako
19	Chascomús	Salty lagoon	Jechen Tamle
20	Chimehuin	Meeting place	Komuaen Aike
21	Chimpay	Place of sacrifice	Jamenke Aike
22	Chivilcoy	Place of carob trees	Akel Aike
23	Choele Choel	Race with yellow flower	Guijarro
24	Chos Malal	Yellow corral	Uaitenk Uorkenk
25	Claromecó	Three waters	Kaash Katenke
26	Colan Conhué	Place of passage	Kei Aike
27	Colhué Huapi	Red island	Kápenken Sekten
28	Collón Curá	River of stones	Yaten Katenke
29	Comahue	Place of crystal-clear waters	Jechen Katenke
30	Comicó	Place of hidden water	Kioosh Jechen
31	Copahue	Water of sulphur	Joche Tamle
32	Cuchillo-Có	Water of knives	Páijen Tamle
33	Cura Malal	Stone corral	Yaten Uorkenk
34	Curí Leuvú	River of stone	Yaten Katenke
35	Curruhué	Place of stones	Yaten Aike
36	Currumahuida	Hill of stones	Yaten Yeut
37	Domuyo	That which shakes and rumbles	Nauneuen
38	El Nihuil	The one that shines	Keóken
39	Epecuén	Almost burned	Uair
40	Epulafquen	Two lakes	Tamle Jauke
41	Epulef	Two rivers	Katenke Jauke
42	Epuyén	Place of the whirlpool	Uarrekenk Aike
43	Filo Hua Hum	Where the ridge touches the river	Katenke Filo
44	Futalaufquen	Large lake	Chaink Tamle
45	Futaleufú	Large river	Chaink Katenke
46	Ganzú Lauquen	Large lagoon	Chaink Koi
47	Guaminí	Place of the thrush	Kiken Aike
48	Guatraché	Place of the trail	Choiols Aike
49	Huanguelén	Yellow watering place	Uaitenk Koi
50	Huechulafquen	Long lake	Keikel Tamle
51	Hui Hui	Place of entrance	Aiken Aike
52	Huiliches	People of the south	Aonikenk
53	Huinca Renancó	Watering place of the huinca	Kade Koi
54	Huinganco	Place of bones	Ko Aike
55	Kilka	Drawing or writing	Ajnun
56	Leubucó	Watering place of the river	Katenke Koi
57	Lihué Calel	Mountain range of life	Asher Yeuternk
58	Limay	Crystal-clear river	Kuol Katenke
59	Limay Mahuida	Hill of the crystal-clear river	Yeut Kuol Katenke
60	Lin Calel	Three hills	Kaash Yeuternk
61	Litrán	Watering place of white stone	Orrenk Yaten Koi
62	Llao Llao	Bitter herb	Jechen Ueicurru
63	Loncopué	Toad’s head	Ualuelen Teuko
64	Los Coihues	The coihue trees	Kápenken
65	Los Menucos	The stony places	Yaten Aiken
66	Loventuel	Place of irons	Taam Aike
67	Macachín	Place of carob trees	Akel Aike
68	Machónico	Place of yellow water	Uaitenk Tamle Aike
69	Mainqué	Cliff-dwelling parrot	Keke / Chetjarre
70	Maipo	Water of the earth	Jerum Tamle
71	Malargüe	Place of corrals	Uorkenk Aike
72	Meliquina	Four mountains	Kaaje Yeuternk
73	Moquehue	Place of still water	Tamle Aike
74	Nahuel Huapi	Island of the tiger	Jaluel Sekten
75	Nahuel Mapá	Land of the tiger	Jaluel Jerum
76	Nahuel Pan	Stone tiger	Jaluel Yaten
77	Nahuel Rucá	House of the tiger	Jaluel Ku
78	Nahueve	River of the tiger	Jaluel Katenke
79	Naicó	Watering place of fire	Iaik Koi
80	Napaleofú	River of marshes	Koluel Katenke
81	Neuquén	Bold watering place
82	Nonthué	Place where waters meet	Tamle Komuaen Aike
83	Ñacuñán	Place of carob trees	Algarrobo Aike
84	Ñorquín	Thrush	Segdep
85	Ñorquinco	Watering place of the thrush	Segdep Aike
86	Paimún	Place of the whirlpool	Uarrekenk Aike
87	Palantelén	Place of the pass	Kei Aike
88	Pehuen-Có	Watering place of araucarias	Peenkal Tamle
89	Pichi Huinca	Little huinca	Kade Telenke
90	Pichi Leufú	Small river	Telenke Katenke
91	Pichi Mahuida	Small hill	Telenke Yeut
92	Picún Leufú	River of the north	Penkenk Telenke
93	Picunches	People of the north	Penkenk Al
94	Pigüé	Place of sowing	Kaichelo Aike (wheat field)
95	Pilcaniyeu	Place of yellow reeds	Uaitenk Chank Aike
96	Pilhué	Place of water of arrows	Shotel Koi Aike
97	Pillahuincó	Watering place of the arrows	Shotel Koi
98	Pilo Lil	Brook of branches	Kake Kon
99	Piltriquitrón	Hill hanging from the clouds	Kochkoch Kauen Yeut
100	Polcahué	Place of red mud	Kápenken Tako Aiken
101	Prahuaniyeu	Place of fire cane field	Iaik Chank Aike
102	Puan	Lagoon of turbid water	Epolenk Koi
103	Puelén	Place of the east	Penkoken Aike
104	Puelmapu	Land of the east	Penkoken Geute
105	Puelo	Water of the east	Penkoken Tamle
106	Pulmari	Grey lake	Temeltenk Tamle
107	Quehué	Place of reeds	Korpen Aike
108	Quemquemtreu	People of the ravines	Konkashken Al
109	Queñi	Hidden watering place	Eica Koi
110	Quequén	Place of cliffs	Jono kuinekon Aike
111	Quetrequén	Place of tremors
112	Quili Malal	Corral of three points	Kash Orrka Uorkenk
113	Quillén	Place of dreams	Kotenkesh Aike
114	Quiñihual	Place of three hills	Kaash Yeuternk Aike
115	Rancul	Reedbed	Telshen Aike
116	Realicó	Place of caldenes (tree species)	Calden Aike
117	Renca	Wild cane	Gankenk Chank
118	Ruca Choroy	House of parrots	Keke Uake
119	Salliqueló	Place of yellow clay	Uaitenk Ko Aike
120	Somuncurá	Stone that speaks	Aish Yaten
121	Tandil	Rock that beats	Sheg Yaten
122	Tapalqué	Divided watering place	Gluen Koi
123	Telén	Place of mud	Tako Aike
124	Traful	Union of waters	Katenke Komuaen

Wikipedia
Pueblos originarios

Malvinas: Robacio Masterfully Commands the Artillery of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group

Account of Second Lieutenant Juan Gabino Suárez, Chief of the “last gun” of the 4th Airborne Artillery Group (GAAerot 4)

  

I share this account once again because Rear Admiral Carlos Hugo Robacio deserves to be remembered as he truly was — by living and reliving a part of his life.

I will never tire of saying it. Never.

Our place in the war: Sapper Hill (Puerto Argentino, Malvinas Islands, Republic of Argentina) — with a forward detachment in San Carlos alongside Battery "A".

A field artilleryman loves to see where his rounds land. He thrives on observing, calculating, correcting. But when you’re the Chief of the Gun Section, that privilege is gone. From the rear —where all you hear are the fire commands and the thunder of the guns— you must imagine the battlefield, reconstruct in your mind what’s unfolding ahead, guided only by instinct, by training... and by doctrine.

That’s when fire adjustment comes alive —the craft of bracketing a target with precision. It's a method as old as it is effective: the first shot, far from being decisive, is merely a starting point. In artillery, a direct hit on the first round proves nothing. Only through disciplined bracketing—first in azimuth, then in range—can effective fire be achieved.

But in the urgency of combat, the temptation to cut corners is always there. One tends to stray from the textbook, from regulation, from what was drilled into you in the classroom. You want to solve everything at once. And that’s where those who forget the fundamentals make their first mistake. Because when the situation is real, and the enemy is advancing, all you have left is what you learned —and held onto.

And then, he appeared: Captain Carlos Hugo Robacio, Commander of Marine Battalion 5. The moment his fire requests began coming in, I knew instantly he was applying doctrine with surgical precision. His Initial Fire Request (IFR) was flawless: the target was clearly described —width, depth, distance, bearing from magnetic north. Everyone in the fire chain knew exactly what had to be done. Tactical clarity radiated through the net. And that kind of clarity inspires. From gun crews to the Fire Direction Center (FDC) and the Fire Support Coordinator (FSC), everyone locked in.

  
CN Carlos Robacio in Malvinas
 

I could read his thinking through the rounds.
The first shot landed off to one side.
The second, at the opposite end.
What was he doing?
He was bracketing the target, establishing the axis of correction. Pure doctrine. Pure art.
The third corrected direction.
The fourth refined range.
The fifth: ten rounds, fire for effect.

Not a moment of hesitation. Robacio didn’t ask —he ordered. And every order was exact.

Then came confirmation from the Forward Observer: successful impact. But who exactly were we firing on? These weren’t theoretical targets. We were firing on British troops who had already closed within 150 meters of our lines —some even closer. Robacio had cut the enemy advance in two, separating the forward elements from the main assault force still pushing up from the rear. He bought time —and lives.

And then, the critical moment.

The new coordinates overlapped the exact position of Marine Battalion 5. The FDC hesitated. “We can’t fire there —our own men are on that grid!” But Robacio didn’t flinch:

“They’re among us! Get in your foxholes and open fire. Fire! Fire! Fire!”

The order came out furious, direct, visceral. And it was necessary.

Even with our guns buried, we kept fighting back.

I don’t remember how many volleys we fired on that line —but it was a lot. Hundreds of rounds. Robacio kept pushing them back, forcing the enemy to scatter. And when he sensed it was time, he ordered a fire barrier. Precision calculations. All guns firing on a perfect line. A wall of steel. And he drove them even farther. Until the guns fell silent.

To me, it was a masterclass in fire control. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Robacio owned the battlefield like a conductor with an orchestra —with precision, instinct, and total battlefield awareness. He was a professional. A tactician. A clear-headed combat leader.

But what were the British really trying to do by attacking BIM5? Was it a diversion? A beachhead for a future assault on Port Stanley? A test of our responsiveness?
Even today, this engagement is barely remembered, hardly studied, nearly absent from the official accounts. And yet, it was one of the most technically sound and fiercely fought defenses of the entire war.

I hope this testimony serves to highlight the professional excellence of Captain Robacio, his tactical brilliance, and his nerve under fire. We never had the chance to work together before the war —but in those days, I could read his mind through every shot fired.

And in artillery, that’s worth more than a thousand words.

One of our artillery guns —in those first days, our assigned combat position— might well be the emblematic one. Maybe because of where it stood. The fence posts were still upright, and the comrades of BIM 5 were up ahead, still building their own defenses.

Forgive me for bringing back these memories —memories of those howitzers that once held back the British advance, firing until there was nothing left to shoot.

(Sapper Hil, Puerto Argentino, Republic of Argentina)

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)

Malvinas: Zubizarreta and the Absurd Accident that Costs His Life

Everything failed, except his courage: the last flight of the pilot who died after returning from a mission in the Malvinas

Captain Zubizarreta departed for the islands on May 23, 1982, in his A-4Q Skyhawk. Over the fleet, he was unable to release his bombs due to a technical malfunction. Loaded with explosives and almost out of fuel, he returned to the mainland. He landed on the wet and slippery runway at Río Grande. He was supposed to eject, but the mechanism also failed. The final moments of a hero

Based on the article by Marcelo Larraquy || Infobae

A Squadron on the Edge: Skyhawks and Broken Wings

The War’s Beginning: Scarce Resources, Unbreakable Will

From the very start, the Argentine pilots flew with courage but also with hardship. The A-4Q Skyhawks they operated were aging warriors. Their wings were cracked, their systems outdated, and their ejection seats were more luck than science. Ammunition was scarce. Missiles, if they worked, were miracles. But none of this stopped them.

The Third Naval Fighter and Attack Squadron, tasked with aerial assaults on enemy fleets, faced near-impossible conditions. Every sortie they flew risked not just combat casualties, but technical failure before even reaching the target. Mechanics worked miracles overnight, often cannibalizing one plane to get another airborne. Pilots trained relentlessly, often with simulators or outdated manuals. What they lacked in hardware, they made up for in heart.

Every time one of them took off, everyone on the base knew the risk. The chances of return were slim, and the margin for error was nonexistent. Yet, men like Zubizarreta flew because surrender wasn’t an option—not to a foreign flag flying over Argentine land.

Captain Rodolfo Castro Fox: Leadership Born from Pain

If courage had a face during that campaign, it might have looked like Captain Rodolfo Castro Fox. Just nine months before the war, he had survived a near-fatal training accident. Ejecting too late from his aircraft during a drill, he had hit the sea hard, fracturing his arm and suffering cardiac arrests. For most, that would end a flying career. But for Castro Fox, it was just another hurdle.

When war was declared, he was barred from combat due to his injuries. But something inside him wouldn’t accept that. He believed a leader couldn’t send his men into danger unless he too was willing to face it. Despite his limited mobility and pain, he climbed into his A-4Q Skyhawk. Mechanics had to help him close the cockpit. He operated the landing gear by crossing arms mid-flight. It was more than grit—it was defiance, a mirror of the national spirit.

On May 23, 1982, he led the mission to San Carlos Bay. Alongside him were Capt. Zubizarreta, Lt. Oliveira, and Lt. Benítez. It wasn’t just a routine strike—it was a bold charge into the lion’s den, knowing full well the lion had teeth, claws, and aircraft carriers.

Lieutenant Commander Carlos Maria Zubizarreta with pilot Lieutenant Gustavo Diaz (castrofox.blogspot)

Flying into Fire: The Final Mission

The Mission Brief: Objectives Over San Carlos

San Carlos Bay was a hot zone, crawling with enemy vessels and ready-to-fire Sea Harriers. The objective was simple: inflict damage, disrupt logistics, and remind the enemy that Argentina would not surrender. Castro Fox and his team took off just after noon, their Skyhawks loaded with bombs, their hearts heavier still.

They flew in formation, hugging the ocean, low and fast—trying to avoid radar. Oliveira soon experienced a malfunction and had to return. The rest pushed on. Over the hills of Gran Malvina, the coast came into view. It was time. The mission was live.

Just minutes earlier, Captain Pablo Carballo had passed through the same airspace. He radioed back: enemy ships were in position, anti-aircraft fire was intense, and Sea Harriers were on patrol. His warning was clear: "It’s hell up here." But still, they flew in.

The Assault Begins: Low Flight and Courage Under Fire

Castro Fox dropped to just 100 meters above sea level—barely enough to clear the waves. He saluted his men behind him. And then the hell began.

As they pierced into the strait, the sky turned black with smoke and tracer fire. Every second was life or death. Anti-aircraft guns blazed, missiles locked on. But they kept going. Castro Fox spotted his target—Intrepid—dodged a missile, dropped his payload, and veered away. Behind him, Benítez and Zubizarreta faced their own crucible.

Missiles were launched. Two whistled between their aircraft but missed. Benítez unloaded on Antelope. Zubizarreta couldn’t—his system malfunctioned. His bombs stayed locked in. That failure would change the course of his fate.

Castro Fox had suffered a serious accident months before and two heart attacks, however he informed his superiors that he felt obliged to disobey the prohibition: he could not send his pilots into aerial combat if he did not do so. (castrofox.blogspot)

The Flight Back: Fear, Faith, and Fuel

Mid-Air Decisions: Life or Death Over the Sea

After surviving the bombing run, the pilots were not out of danger. In fact, the return journey was often more perilous than the attack itself. With enemy aircraft possibly in pursuit, low fuel levels, and aircraft damaged or malfunctioning, every second in the sky could be your last.

Captain Castro Fox, already dealing with impaired mobility, discovered his external fuel tanks weren’t transferring properly. The fuel gauge dipped into the red. At that altitude and speed, any miscalculation would mean crashing into the cold South Atlantic. He climbed to over 12,000 meters, adopting a flight profile that might just extend his range long enough to reach the coast. But he was uncertain. He may have to eject over the freezing waters, alone and vulnerable.

Fox made a decision that speaks volumes of his character. He told Zubizarreta and Benítez not to accompany him on the high-altitude route. He didn’t want them wasting precious fuel, or worse, dying trying to save him. “Fly safe,” he said. “I want to be alone.” This wasn’t fear—it was love. A leader protecting his men with his own sacrifice.

Captain Fox’s Solitary Journey Back Home

Alone in the sky, thousands of meters above the sea, Castro Fox had only the hum of his struggling Skyhawk and the hope that his calculations would hold. He couldn't contact base properly, and with low visibility, navigation became guesswork. He was flying on fumes and faith.

But somehow, he made it. Against all odds, he brought his crippled aircraft home. When he landed, there was no applause, no ceremony—just his breath fogging the cockpit glass. He had done his duty. And yet, his heart was heavy. He didn't know that Zubizarreta’s fate was about to unfold before his eyes.

Zubizarreta’s Return: Silent Hero with a Burden

Captain Carlos Zubizarreta was not supposed to return with bombs. His mission had failed due to a technical glitch, a malfunction that rendered his payload useless during the heat of battle. But instead of ditching the bombs into the sea—as protocol permitted—he brought them home.

Why? Perhaps he wanted them preserved for another mission. Perhaps he didn’t want to discard something so precious in a war where every piece of ammunition mattered. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to return whole. Bombs or not, he had done his duty. He faced the same missiles, the same gunfire, and emerged unscathed. His courage was intact.

As he approached Río Grande, the weather had turned. It had started to drizzle, the wind howled, and the airfield’s condition deteriorated rapidly. A slippery runway with no braking system armed greeted him—a dangerous welcome.

HMS Antelope sinks after being attacked by Argentine pilots in the San Carlos Strait (AP)

Tragedy on the Tarmac: The Final Moments

The Slippery Runway and the Unarmed Hook

Landing a Skyhawk on a perfect day is a challenge. Doing so with minimal fuel, live bombs onboard, and a slippery runway is nothing short of a miracle. Zubizarreta touched down on the slick surface, but the plane’s design wasn’t made for wet airstrips—it was meant for carrier landings. The wheels, inflated for deck use, couldn’t grip the asphalt. The aircraft began to veer off.

Captain Curilovic rushed to arm the emergency braking cable system—but it was too late. The plane slid out of control. Mechanics, pilots, and ground crew watched in horror as Zubizarreta’s jet skidded across the runway, disappearing behind a mound of earth.

Third Naval Fighter and Attack Squadron, photographed on May 20, 1982: Sylvester, Medici, Lecour, Oliveira, Carlos Zubizarreta, Olmedo, Arca, Alberto Phillippi, Castro Fox, Rótolo, Benítez and Alejandro Diaz

A Deadly Descent: Ejection Seat Failure and Fallen Hero

At that moment, Zubizarreta knew he had to eject. The standard ejection protocol required enough speed and altitude to ensure the seat’s rocket mechanism would launch the pilot into the air, giving the parachute time to deploy.

But this wasn’t a normal moment. His seat’s rocket had expired—another legacy of outdated equipment. Maintenance had delayed its replacement. He pulled the lever. The canopy detached. But the rocket didn’t fire properly. The seat didn't reach the required height. The parachute failed to open.

In front of his comrades, Zubizarreta fell to the hard pavement with brutal force. His bombs didn’t detonate. The plane’s nose was barely damaged. The Skyhawk would fly again within a week. But Zubizarreta would not. His body, broken by impact, held a spirit that refused to quit until the very end.
Aftermath: A Plane Flies Again, A Hero Does Not

It is one of the cruel ironies of war. The machine that failed him lived on. Fixed and flown within days. But the man—the soul who rode that machine into battle—was gone. Carlos Zubizarreta succumbed to his injuries shortly after. There was no spectacular explosion, no enemy kill, no banner headline. Just quiet death on a lonely runway.

His coffin was loaded onto a Navy Fokker F-28. Fellow pilots flew in formation, giving him a warrior’s farewell. A national flag draped over him, bearing witness to the price of patriotism.

Patriotism in the Air: What Zubizarreta Stood For

The Spirit of the Malvinas: More Than a Conflict

The Malvinas cause is not about a war lost. It’s about dignity. It’s about memory. And it’s about men like Zubizarreta, who didn’t have the luxury of modern aircraft, perfect intelligence, or diplomatic protections. All they had was courage—and love for their homeland.

For Argentines, the Malvinas symbolize a national wound that still aches, but also a collective pride that refuses to fade. Every schoolchild learns the map showing the islands as part of Argentina. Every plaza has a monument. Every April 2nd, the country pauses to remember.

Zubizarreta’s sacrifice embodies that patriotism—not abstract, but raw and real. He didn’t die for land. He died for honor. For sovereignty. For his brothers-in-arms and for every Argentine who still says with pride: “Las Malvinas son Argentinas.”

Zubizarreta's Legacy: Symbol of Argentine Valor

In a country where true heroes often go unsung, Zubizarreta’s story deserves to be shouted from rooftops. His name should be etched in every classroom, his courage studied, his memory honored. He didn’t die trying to kill. He died trying to live another day—to fly again, to fight again.

He chose duty over safety. He chose loyalty over life. And in doing so, he joined the eternal ranks of Argentina’s most honored. Not with medals or fanfare, but with a legacy that speaks through time.

* Marcelo Larraquy es periodista e historiador (UBA) Su último libro publicado es “La Guerra Invisible. El último secreto de Malvinas”. Ed. Sudamericana.