Malvinas: The Odyssey of the 4th Section (2/5)

Combat at Pony's Pass 

(Part 2 of 5)

 The fight of Second Corporal, Marine Infantryman Agüero

  


What had happened to Corporal Agüero? As soon as communication with his commander was lost, he decided to fall back with the three men still with him.
—“There’s a group up ahead,” said conscript Barrera. “Let’s hit them and get out.”
They threw four hand grenades, and as the last one exploded, they leapt from the trench.

Agüero could feel the wound on his forehead burning, and the rubbing of his helmet made the pain worse.
“To hell with the helmet!” he exclaimed, throwing it to the ground.
He was exhausted and could barely hold his rifle. The blood loss had sapped his strength, making movement difficult. He was also worried about the fate of the other conscripts in his group — he knew nothing of what had happened to them.

Avoiding enemy fire, the four of them moved toward the quarry — the designated fallback point according to the Company’s retreat plan. Protected by the night’s darkness, only broken by the occasional illuminating flare, they took extreme caution in case British troops had infiltrated behind the Company’s former positions at Pony’s Pass.

Then, suddenly, they heard a voice shout “Halt!” in Spanish.
As if triggered by a spring, they all hit the snowy ground. At that moment, Agüero realised he had forgotten the password. Hearing his own language was no guarantee — it could easily be an enemy trick. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
“I have no choice,” he thought.
“We’re from the Obra! From Obra Company!” he shouted as loudly as he could.

On the other side, Staff Sergeant Eugenio Orozco, manning a MAG with several men — including a medic — verified their identity. Once convinced, he allowed them to approach. The medic administered morphine to Corporal Agüero and accompanied the group during their retreat, while Orozco stayed behind to scout the area and leave a few booby traps.

They pressed on, and a few metres ahead they were joined by Principal Corporal Valdez and some conscripts from his 60mm mortar team. The ten men moved cautiously along a trail under British tracer fire. Agüero felt like he was drugged — he kept stumbling and leaning on the nearest soldier for support.

When they reached the quarry, three illumination flares began to fall. Everyone hit the ground, staying completely still until darkness returned. There, Agüero found two of his conscripts:
Iñíguez, bleeding heavily from a neck wound, was begging for water, and
Leguizamón, who had carried him despite being in a state of severe nervous exhaustion.

Agüero, utterly drained, collapsed.
Both he and Iñíguez were placed on stretchers in an attempt to move them, but the slippery terrain made it too risky — they had no choice but to continue on foot.

They finally reached Mount William, barely able to walk. There, they made contact with Second Corporal Humberto Chasampi’s group from Nácar’s 1st Section, who placed them in a sheltered spot. They couldn’t be moved to the Battalion’s First Aid Post (PUSO), as the Casa Amarilla area was under intense bombardment.

“Agüero, can you go on? We need to keep moving,” asked the medic.
“No, I can’t. And I don’t think Iñíguez can either.”
“I’ll stay and look after them,” said conscript Yovino, who had a shrapnel-induced injury to his right knee and could have used the opportunity to retreat from the front line.
“No, go on, Yovino.”
“No, I’m staying.”
“Alright,” said the medic. “In a couple of hours, someone will come for you.”

They settled in to rest. They covered Iñíguez with a blanket — he wouldn’t stop bleeding and kept asking for water, groaning constantly. Agüero and Yovino, both utterly exhausted, fell asleep.

When they woke up, around 11 a.m., the first thing they did was look over at Iñíguez. He lay motionless, eyes and mouth open. Agüero sat up, pressed his ear to the conscript’s chest, hoping for a heartbeat.
There was none.
He was dead.

Agüero closed his eyes and covered him.
“Poor lad,” he murmured, his voice breaking.
“Yes,” said Yovino. “Let’s find something to eat and some warmth.” He was trying to move past the death of his comrade. “I’m freezing.”
They found some milk and a few rations.
“Can you manage, Corporal?”
“I’ll try.”

“Look!” Yovino suddenly exclaimed, pointing at heavy helicopter and troop movement on Mount Harriet.
“They’re in the positions we used to hold,” said Agüero bitterly.
“Shall we go, Corporal? It’s clear no one’s coming for us.”

They descended from their position and followed a path. After only about 200 metres, they heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter’s rotor blades.
They quickly climbed back up the slope, desperately searching for cover among the rocks and grass. Crouching down, they watched as two Sea King helicopters passed overhead and landed near Sapper Hill, disembarking troops who began firing with machine guns and automatic weapons.

They waited, hoping the helicopters would return the same way.
“Let’s go,” said Agüero. “Let’s try to reach the Battalion command post once and for all.”

They came down the hill again, marching with the hope of avoiding enemy contact — a hope that lasted only minutes. Suddenly, they heard a voice in English:
—“Stop! Don’t move. Hands up.”

Agüero and Yovino obeyed without hesitation.
Three Royal Marines in green berets emerged slowly from behind rocks, aiming their FAL rifles at them.

It was 2 p.m. on the 14th of June.

Malvinas: The Odyssey of the 4th Section (1/5)

The Odyssey of the 4th Section

(Part 1/5) 

This account tells the story of the creation and struggle of the mythical 4th Section of Company Nácar of BIM 5.
Extracted from the Book “BIM 5” by Emilio Villarino.

On 13 April, Lieutenant Junior Grade Carlos Vázquez arrived on the islands alongside Lieutenants Binotti and Colombo, three corporals, and six conscripts. Their mission was to form a forward air control team to guide the Argentine air force attacks. After spending two nights at Agruimvinas and eating “lifetime supplies” of chocolate, they were informed they would not be used as air controllers and were ordered to move to Casa Amarilla, the logistics base of BIM 5.

One by one, the three officers entered Captain Robacio's office. After waiting some time, it was Vázquez’s turn. Inside the small room, there was only a field table and a map pinned to the wall. Robacio informed him that he would join Company Nácar, based at Tumbledown. Vázquez, with Second Corporal Tejada and two conscripts, headed there.

Upon arrival, he was welcomed by Navy Lieutenant Villarraza and Colombo, who had been appointed second-in-command of the company. Villarraza said:
"Look, Lieutenant, I don’t have a specific role for you yet, but don’t worry—I’ll sort something out."

For several days, Vázquez had no defined role, until Captain Robacio decided to form the 4th Rifle Section of Company Nácar (every company normally has three rifle sections and one heavy weapons support section).
The 4th Section was composed of the reconnaissance group led by Warrant Officer Fochesatto and personnel from the mobile group (soldiers previously assigned to clean-up duties), under Warrant Officer Julio Saturnino Castillo.

Arrival of Army Troops

Early in the morning of 12 June 1982, Vázquez was alerted that army personnel were retreating towards their positions. They were soldiers from the 4th and 12th Regiments—some wounded, others unarmed. Captain Robacio's orders were clear: any man fit for combat was to be retained and deployed. Vázquez evacuated the wounded to the rear and placed the armed—two corporals and five soldiers—in vacant foxholes.

Among them was a man sitting motionless on a rock, clearly in shock. He was a second lieutenant. Vázquez helped him into the shelter and offered him a hot broth:
"We have no food, but this will do you good. What’s your name?"
"Monsteirín," the sub-lieutenant replied without lifting his eyes from the cup.
"I’m from Regiment 12."
"Well then, stay here and get some rest," Vázquez said.

Later that morning, a sentry raised the alarm: a column of 15 army men was approaching under heavy British artillery fire. Vázquez left his foxhole and sought cover behind a rock, from where he watched the troops advancing, trying to dodge exploding shells. Once they reached the 4th Section’s lines, he had them move forward in pairs and assigned them to empty positions.

The last of the group was a second lieutenant. As he approached, he said:
"Hello, how are you?"
"Hi, how’s it going?" replied Vázquez, puzzled: “Who the hell is this guy?” He had no idea where they might have met.
"Look where we’ve ended up seeing each other," the other officer said.
Still unsure of his identity, Vázquez replied out of courtesy:
"Well, that’s war for you."
"Is your wife’s brother here?"
"As far as I know, he’s on the mainland," answered Vázquez, realising he did indeed know him. It was Second Lieutenant Oscar Silva from the 4th Infantry Regiment, a classmate of Vázquez’s brother-in-law.
"And how are you doing?"
"Still eager to fight," Silva replied.

"I have orders to hold anyone fit for combat," Vázquez said.
These men had just retreated from positions captured by the British and had been awake all night. Despite being exhausted, soaked, and freezing, Silva didn’t hesitate:

"All I ask is the chance to get back at the Brits for what they did to us at Mount Two Sisters."
"You and your men are a blessing," said Vázquez.
"My right flank is wide open and there’s a big gap between Lieutenant Miño’s section (which is covering our rear) and mine. You’ll be a huge help."

The men spent the rest of the day occupying foxholes. Those who couldn’t find shelter improvised. Sub-Lieutenant Silva, a corporal, and four soldiers took position on the path they would use to retreat and regroup with Miño’s section if needed. From there, they could support Warrant Officer Second Class Castillo’s group to the right. Using rocks, they built makeshift shelters.

The Eve of Battle

13 June dawned with brilliant sunshine—undoubtedly one of the finest days since BIM 5 had occupied that part of the Falklands. Around midday, Warrant Officer Fochesatto informed Vázquez that Lieutenant Villarraza, Company Nácar's commander, wanted him at company HQ for a meeting.

Vázquez walked the 1,500 metres accompanied by a conscript with a fixed bayonet, in case of British infiltrators. He was more worried about what might be hiding behind rocks than the constant shelling. Upon arriving at the command post, he found Major Jaimet from RI-6 and other section leaders from Companies Nácar and Miño. One of the companies had retreated to Tumbledown and was now in reserve.

Villarraza addressed them:

"The enemy will almost certainly attack tonight,"

He then gave final combat instructions.
At the end of the meeting, he added:

"I expect you to fulfil your duty and fight bravely, honouring the Argentine Marine Infantry. The time has come to show the British what we are made of."

These were plain, direct words that stirred every officer present. Vázquez shook Villarraza’s hand and said:

"I hope we meet again when this is all over."

At around 18:00 hrs, Vázquez held a final meeting with his leaders: Sub-Lieutenants Silva and Monsteirín; Warrant Officers Fochesatto and Castillo; and Second Corporal Tejada. They gathered in his foxhole—the largest—where they discussed matters for two hours and issued the final instructions for that night. They believed they would flank the British as it was thought they would attack Mount Williams—but fate had other plans.

They reviewed coordination measures, prearranged signals (to initiate final protective fire, ceasefire, and planned withdrawal to a ridgeline). These were standard elements of a combat operations order for a small unit.

At 20:00, after the meeting, they ate their last remaining food: a tin of peaches—the only solid food they’d had in three days.

"This feels like the Last Supper," Vázquez joked.
"If we see each other tomorrow in daylight, it means we won and are alive. If not, it means we lost—and heaven has electric fairy lights."

Each man shook the commander’s hand and wished one another luck. Castillo and Tejada headed to the right flank with Sub-Lieutenant Silva. Everyone seemed calm. No one showed signs of fear or insecurity—although surely they felt it inside. But they were confident they would fight to the end.
An end that, by then, was in God’s hands.
“Everything’s been played,” was how they truly felt. At that point, it no longer depended solely on their actions—but on destiny.

Malvinas: Enemy's Cluster Bomb

Explosion of Fear

Malvinas: Historias de coraje




At Goose Meadow, the Amphibious Engineer Company was busy assembling so-called cluster bombs or belugas, those that, when opened, release several small bombs.
"Be more careful!" the second-in-command challenged Chief Warrant Officer Marcos Edmundo Quiroga.
"Sir, I'm 41 years old. I've lived long enough, and I don't even have a family to worry about."
A few days later, the group was detonating a bomb at the airport when a red alert sounded: a British air attack was coming. And Chief Warrant Officer Quiroga ran at full speed to the shelters.
"But how?!" "The superior officer teased him. "Haven't you lived long enough?"
"This is different," the non-commissioned officer said with a smile on his face.
There were only three men, and they had to neutralize 900 devices in two days.

Malvinas: White Alert in the 4th Infantry Regiment

WHITE ALERT!

Excerpt from the book “We Shall Return” by Captain Farinella of the 4th Infantry Regiment

Second Lieutenant Mario Héctor Juárez of the 4th Regiment recalls:

Our 120mm mortar position was, quite logically, set farther back than the front-line units. This meant we were somewhat isolated — even with our TA-321 PT field phones. In a strange way, that semi-isolation gave our days a certain rhythm; a kind of quiet routine that felt almost like being among family. Or more precisely, camaraderie.

As the leader of that small “family,” I made sure everything that mattered to us ran smoothly. One method we devised to keep the unit sharp and responsive was using colour-coded alerts to signal different enemy actions.

“Red Alert” meant air attack.
“Black Alert” meant enemy landing.
We’d even add directions — “Red Alert from the North!” — so everyone knew where to expect the enemy and prepare their weapons accordingly.

Our mortar position, shielded by a ring of rocks, was a rare luxury in that harsh environment. It gave us shelter from the biting winds, freezing rain, and constant cold — conditions that made even basic cooking an ordeal.

In my role as head of this makeshift family, whenever a food-related emergency arose, I’d initiate a special protocol I’d created myself: “White Alert.” This wasn’t a colour used for actual combat purposes — it was strictly internal code.

One morning, someone suddenly shouted, “White Alert from the South!”
Instantly, the men sprang into action, grabbing helmets, rushing to positions, bracing for an attack. The shout had been loud enough to set off a chain reaction — even those who hadn’t heard it directly copied the urgent behaviour around them. In a matter of seconds, nearly the entire position was on high alert.

After five or ten minutes of tense waiting, confusion began to spread. People started asking what exactly was going on — what was this White Alert? No one seemed to know.

I had to step in and explain: it was just three or four sheep that had wandered nearby. The “alert” had been intended solely for the rescue party, so they could rush out and catch them.

Dinner was served that night.

Malvinas: The Braves of the 25th IR (1/2)

"Gato" Section, the Braves of the 25th Infantry Regiment

Part 1 || Part 2

Account by Corporal Diego Enrique Pesaresi, Member of RI 25, Company "C", Section "Gato"

We arrived on the islands on April 2nd. Initially, we were stationed in Puerto Argentino, and later we were transferred to Darwin. On a day whose date I do not recall, our section departed towards San Carlos to carry out a mission. Upon arrival, we encountered the section commanded by Second Lieutenant Vázquez, which remained to reinforce the strait. Sergeant Reyes ordered me to ascend to Height 234 with three other soldiers, carrying a tent and a radio set. Our mission was to monitor the strait and report any enemy presence via radio. We had no radar—only a pair of binoculars, FAL rifles, a MAG machine gun, a FAP, and a mortar.

Once in position, we began surveillance. One night, around 1:00 a.m., under heavy fog, we started to hear unidentified noises. Suddenly, naval shelling began in support of the British landing. We quickly took our rifles and moved to rendezvous with Sergeant Reyes. Fierce fighting ensued, and we inflicted significant casualties on the enemy. We endured heavy enemy fire for hours. At dawn, our ordeal truly began.

Lieutenant Esteban’s section was located in San Carlos, and we were supposed to regroup with them. However, this proved impossible, and we were forced to begin a retreat. We marched at night and rested during the day. At one point, British troops passed extremely close—just a few meters away. Fortunately, they did not see us. The combat was intense; tracer bullets fell like rain. Yet, Second Lieutenant Reyes skillfully protected us and led us out of that hellish barrage. By then, Sergeant Martín Colque was no longer with us—he had remained by his mortar, enduring hunger and cold.

The eleven of us who remained began walking toward Puerto Argentino. At one point, we sensed we were being pursued. To evade capture, Reyes ordered us to cross a river branch and hide behind a mountain. From there, we could observe the enemy searching for us, barely a hundred meters away. For reasons unknown, British troops in a helicopter mistakenly opened fire on their own men, likely believing we were the target.

The freezing river water caused several cases of frostbite: Corporal Hugo Godoy and Soldiers Moyano and Cepeda suffered in their feet, while Soldier Alarcón was affected in his hands. We carried the wounded on our backs, as they were unable to walk.

Exhausted and weakened, Second Lieutenant Reyes ordered a halt. We took shelter in a kind of cave, which we named la cobacha. The injured were delirious, speaking incoherently, clearly beyond their physical limits. After days without food, the first thing we ate was a wild goose, which Reyes shot with his pistol. In the distance, we spotted a house. Reyes instructed us to investigate it. Upon arrival, we found it abandoned; the only food we discovered was sugar.

We visited the house several times. On one occasion, as we were leaving, a British helicopter attempted to land in front of it. We were spotted, but managed to hide in a small shed filled with scrap metal. Without Reyes present, we did not know what to do. In hindsight, we realize we could have opened fire and neutralized the invaders. They saw us clearly. In desperation, we ran back to the cobacha and reported the incident to Reyes, who immediately ordered the evacuation of the area.

We were forced to leave the wounded behind in the cobacha, leaving them with what little food we had—a raw lamb. By then, we had learned to hunt and eat raw meat, as lighting a fire was not an option.

Malvinas: Gunsmith Fuzing a Bomb for the Prince

 
ARGENTINE GUNSMITH Corporal 1 Moyana and Antonio Coria of the Air Force working on the wind fuse of a 500-pound (226-kilogram) Mk.82 bomb on the central support of a Douglas A-4B Skyhawk at the Río Gallegos Military Air Base, Santa Cruz, during the war, this Argentine soldier who served the country does not receive a veteran's pension.

Argentine Air Force: The Dagger and Its Severe Limitations in Combat Flight

The Dagger and Its Severe Limitations in Combat Flight

During the war, among the pilots facing the greatest challenges in attack missions against the British fleet were those flying the IAI Nesher Dagger aircraft. In addition to lacking missiles and defensive countermeasures, these aircraft were not equipped with aerial refueling capability—unlike the Skyhawks and Super Étendards—thus forcing them to operate under extremely adverse conditions. They regularly exceeded their designated combat weight limit of approximately six tons, taking off at full load with over thirteen tons. This excess weight was due not only to the bombs but also to the supplemental fuel tanks, which they could not afford to jettison if they hoped to return to their base at San Julián in Santa Cruz, over 500 kilometers from the Malvinas Islands.

These constraints severely compromised their maneuverability in aerial combat situations, especially when confronted by enemy aircraft or by ship-based surface-to-air missiles. As a result, eleven aircraft were shot down—nine by AIM-9L Sidewinder missiles launched from Sea Harrier jets, and two by surface-launched anti-aircraft missiles—leading to the deaths of six Argentine pilots.

First Lieutenant Carlos "Lobo" Musso recounted these difficulties as follows:

"The cruising altitude was low, considering the characteristics of the aircraft—approximately 7,000 to 8,000 meters, nearly twice what the aircraft normally allowed. Since the Dagger had no in-flight refueling capability, we took off fully loaded with fuel, carrying external tanks that we had to keep at all costs (two wing tanks and one centerline tank). Consequently, we could not ascend to higher altitudes or fly at supersonic speeds. The armament consisted of two bombs and the cannons—nothing more. Under these conditions, we always took off with an exceptional takeoff weight, even above the limits set by the manual. It was more akin to a ferry configuration than a combat setup."

Despite these considerable limitations and the immense effort required, Dagger pilots, flying overloaded aircraft, managed to strike several British vessels with their bombs. These included the HMS Antrim (D18), HMS Brilliant (F90), HMS Broadsword (F88), HMS Arrow (F173), HMS Plymouth (F126), and the RFA Sir Tristram (L3505). They also played a role in the sinking of the HMS Ardent (F184) and the RFA Sir Galahad (L3005).