Malvinas: The Deployment of the Gendarmes

The Start of the Adventure for the Gendarmes 

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

Malvinas Historias de Coraje




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malvinas: Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano, A Hero

A Little-Known Hero: Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano

As recounted by then Second Lieutenant Jiménez Corbalán

On the night of 8 June, while an attack was being launched against the 3rd Section, B Company, RI 4 under my command, the enemy struck the sector of my support group led by Sergeant Solís, killing Private Martiniano Gómez and wounding both the sergeant and Private Funes, in fierce fighting in which they had to employ rockets to dislodge my men. However, we managed to stop them and the British were unable to capture the entire sector. After a while, the battle had ground to a stalemate.

We had been engaged in heavy combat for nearly twenty minutes when a group of men from a section that had been attached to our company as reinforcements (they belonged to the Command and Services Company of the III Brigade, this section being composed of service personnel) arrived at my positions.

They were led by a sergeant whom I did not know. With a piercing gaze, this sergeant said to me: “Sir, I bring you a night sight sent by the company commander, and I place myself at your orders.” Much later, I learnt that this man was Sergeant First Class Héctor Ricardo Montellano. He had arrived with ten men, ready to go into action.

I gathered these men and explained that I would join them in carrying out a counter-attack to assist and clear the sector of my support group, which was under heavy pressure. Using the sight, I would mark targets with tracer fire so that we could then concentrate our fire together.

Our mission was extremely dangerous, as it consisted of advancing against the enemy while the remainder of my section supported us with covering fire. As I was finishing my explanation, British artillery fire began to fall, a clear sign that they wished to support their advance and secure the position they were attacking. Flattened to the ground, we kept firing upon them. Suddenly, we saw them beginning to reorganise, and I thought to myself: “It is now or never (before they regroup and launch their attack).”

At my signal, half of the group leapt forward with this sergeant at the front, while the other half provided covering fire. We then leapt ahead, passing the first group, and in this way we alternated, advancing in ten-metre bounds amidst tracer fire and the smell of gunpowder. This took the British by surprise, and our satisfaction was great when we saw them fall back.

After a short while, I checked with the night sight in a full 360°, and there were no enemies. Sergeant Montellano confirmed that his men were all safe and promptly reported to me. We exchanged glances, and I could see in his expression a hint of satisfaction. He then took his leave and returned to his sector.

This brave sergeant would lose his life on the night of 9 June, when an artillery shell struck his foxhole directly.

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

 

The Odyssey of the 4th Section (Part 5)

This account tells the story of the creation and struggle of the legendary 4th Section of Company Nácar of BIM 5.

—“Sir, this is Lieutenant Vázquez,” he said with anguish. Captain Robacio replied:
—“Lieutenant, we’ve been trying to contact you. The weight of the battle is centred on your Section. What do you need to finish them off?”
—“Sir! Fire the howitzers on us!”

The request meant being shelled by their own artillery — no less than 105 mm guns, the largest available, capable of destroying foxholes. Either way, they would not come out alive. Robacio moved the receiver from his ear and hesitated for a moment.
—“But Vázquez…”
—“Sir, please, fire right now. This is unsustainable.”
—“Very well, I’ll do it. Stay on the line.”

Turning to his aide, Robacio ordered:
—“Open fire with the 105s on Lieutenant Vázquez’s positions immediately. Quickly.”

The first shot landed 500 metres off target. The island’s soft soil and the strain placed on the artillery had knocked the guns out of calibration.
—“Sir, correction: add 900, right 500,” cried Vázquez. Normally, such an adjustment would be impossible. Robacio whispered, covering the handset:
—“This poor lad must be losing it…”

But Vázquez was not mad. The shot really had fallen far. As the second round delayed, he shouted desperately:
—“What are you waiting for? Fire! Fire! They’re tearing us apart!”

The second round was again long, far from target.
—“Bloody useless gunners! Stick the guns up your arses!” Vázquez was screaming at none other than his commander. Death for him and his men seemed certain.

At last the third shell hit the Section.
—“Good! That’s it! That’s it!” he cried over the radio.
—“Alright, son. Try to hold on,” replied Robacio, aware of the ordeal his men were enduring.

From then on, the 105 mm shells battered the position. Robacio contacted Puerto Argentino, requesting reinforcements. He could not withdraw men from his other companies without opening a corridor the British would exploit — something he knew all too well. But headquarters delayed. Frustrated, he snapped:
—“Drag out all the rats hiding there and send them forward. Tonight the moor will finish the British!”

Back at the 4th Section, the shelling slowed but did not halt the attack. At 05:00, Vázquez again demanded reinforcements. A counterattack from RI-6 failed to reach him. He relied instead on 81 mm mortar fire from NCO Cuñé, whose repeated strikes hampered the British advance despite being targeted by a frigate and enemy 120 mm mortars. Cuñé and his conscripts used timing and precision to fire in sync with naval bombardments, masking their positions.

By 05:30, Vázquez had lost effective control. Each foxhole fought alone. What was once the 4th Section — reinforced by RI-4 soldiers — was reduced to some twenty men, running out of ammunition. Their only options: hide and pray, or fix bayonets.

The British gradually overran the remaining foxholes, killing or capturing defenders. Notably, they took prisoners when possible, sparing lives under extreme circumstances.

By 07:00, still night-dark, only three foxholes resisted: Vázquez’s and one on each flank. Ammunition was gone. Some surrendered, some lay dead. Desperate, Vázquez radioed Robacio, crying:
—“Sir, where are the reinforcements? We have no more ammunition. My men do not fight, they do not answer my orders. I don’t know if they are alive or dead…”

It was the grim truth. He no longer knew if his soldiers refused to fight, lacked ammunition, or had already fallen.

Malvinas: Lions in Darwin

The Lions of the "Aliaga" Section

A pause in the attack

After opening fire on the advancing British section, the British troops paused their manoeuvre in an attempt to reorganise their failed advance through the depression. Clearly, the rounded hill held by Second Lieutenant Aliaga's section dominated the small valley, and remaining within range of weapons from that position was extremely dangerous.

However, not everything was in favour of the small Argentine force: several of its shooters had been poorly positioned for the land attack, as their foxholes had been designed to face a beach landing and did not allow them to fire at the British without exposing themselves. As a result, some had to lie prone on the slope to return fire, which was a highly risky move.

From the command post—a dugout located near the top of the rise—Aliaga assessed the situation and assumed they might be able to hold out until nightfall, provided the engagement continued as it had. Then they could withdraw under cover of darkness. Alternatively, if the situation worsened, they might attempt to retreat to the nearby settlement at any point during the day. Yet even in daylight, such a manoeuvre would be far from simple: it would take place under enemy fire and, if successful, might still result in being mistakenly fired upon by their own troops, as there was no communication system to warn of the movement.

At that moment, two or three Pucará aircraft flew northwards but did not release their weapons against the British forces engaging the Argentine position. The British, however, took full advantage of the opportunity and greeted the flyover with a barrage of automatic weapons fire.

A tense calm settled over the trenches. During that lull, Sergeant Maldonado crawled over to the machine-gun crew and urged them to keep doing exactly what they were doing—telling them: “Keep it up, you're tearing the gringos to pieces.” Without a doubt, the success of the defence would rest heavily on the firepower of the lone MAG machine gun.

Also in that trench was Private Ramón Monje, who, having used up the last of the 88.9mm rocket launcher ammunition on the hedge line, moved over to the other conscripts for support. However, he had no rifle and was unable to fight.

Two foxholes to the right of the MAG, another pair of soldiers waited for the battle to resume. Hugo Castro watched the small valley below, barely blinking, expecting to see the enemy infantry appear at any moment. But it was not from the front; instead, off to the right, they spotted a small unit—no more than 15 men—moving in single file about 800 metres away, descending southwards along the gentle slopes that, in the opposite direction, overlook Darwin Bay.

Unable to establish proper contact or determine whether the group were friend or foe—since their shouts of “¡Viva la Patria!” received no reply—the soldiers of Regiment 8 decided not to open fire. Shortly afterwards, the group disappeared into the next hollow in their path. (This was First Corporal Quintana's group from the Reconnaissance Section of Regiment 12, who, after fighting on Darwin Ridge, had managed to retreat to Goose Green.)

Under Fire Once More

Suddenly, the British resumed their assault on the hill, and from that point onward, the gunfire would continue almost uninterrupted until the battle’s end.

Second Lieutenant Aliaga, firing single shots with his rifle due to it not cycling correctly, was growing concerned—his right flank was the most exposed, and he feared the British might attempt to encircle them from that side.

At that moment, Private Guillermo Marini reached the dugout with urgent news:
– “Sir, Corporal Bossetti’s been hit!”

Corporal Bossetti, who had remained in his tent due to poor health, had been wounded in the arm. A bullet had entered near the top of one shoulder and exited through the forearm. The section now had its first casualty. (Corporal Bossetti had even coughed up blood and was in a severely weakened state due to malnutrition, yet he had refused to abandon his unit.)

Aliaga then instructed Marini to crawl over to one of the alternate positions on the right side, which had been designated for contingency use when the section was first deployed there. Armed with his FAL rifle, the conscript was to act as a lookout and raise the alarm if he saw any British troops advancing from that direction.

However, Marini had barely covered a few metres before he was struck twice in one leg and once in the abdomen, collapsing and unable to move.
– “Sir, Marini’s hit!” someone shouted, which Aliaga heard.

Without hesitation—and knowing that the young man was completely exposed—Aliaga crawled out to him and tried to cover the abdominal wound, which was bleeding heavily. Looking to his side, he saw two other soldiers, Naif Anis Hassanie and Luis Cepeda, had followed him. (These conscripts were risking their lives for their officer, who was barely older than themselves.)

The four of them were surrounded by dozens of impacts kicking up dirt all around. With immense effort, Aliaga managed to drag Marini back until they fell into the relative safety of the command post trench.

Argentina: Argentine Marines

Argentine Marines

The Marine Infantry is one of the components of the Argentine Navy. Its primary mission is to carry out amphibious operations involving the landing of troops on coastal areas from the sea. They may also take part in land, riverine, and other missions. 🇦🇷⚓ 

Malvinas: The Remains of the Day

 “Galtieri put the problem on the table”

Interview with Guillermo Suárez Mason

In its edition of 23 June 1982, the magazine Siete Días published an interview by journalist César M. Sorkin with General Guillermo Suárez Mason, then former Chief of the Army General Staff. On that occasion, General Suárez Mason gave his views on different aspects of the war, some passages of which are of particular interest, especially those concerning the circumstances that led to the final outcome:

“The battle, unpleasant as the results may have been, was fought through to the end. Our troops fought as best they could with what they had, and they were overcome. There was no one unwilling to face the alternative… We could talk about the very small fractions still left to General Menéndez, but they were so minimal that they don’t really count. Our troops were genuinely overpowered in the field, after an effort in which they used everything they had. It is quite simple to understand: if you have troops on the ground and they are crushed by fire, and when you still can’t move them much they land a helicopter-borne battalion behind your troops… well then, they’ve passed you, they’ve left you behind, completely cut off. That is much more practical than pushing through the same battlefield, through minefields, across barbed wire and under fire… They destroyed the most important objectives with fire and then went over the top. They are respectable. When I speak of the respect I have for them, I refer strictly and solely to their professionalism.”

On the morale of the Argentine forces he stated:

“It was very good, and this is confirmed in the final act signed between General Menéndez and General Moore, whose first point highlights the courage shown by our men.”

Towards the end of the interview, the dialogue was as follows:

“I refer exclusively to the actions of the Army. I do not speak about the Navy’s lack of action in the area, and that is because it would have been impossible for them to do anything; despite the pain their absence caused, I understand why they were not there. It would have been suicide. Just as I understand that General Menéndez halted the actions at a certain point… Collective suicide makes no sense, militarily speaking. When things are already lost, the human worth of command must weigh more than supposedly heroic attitudes, terrible in their finality of death. That is not the purpose of military operations. Military operations are carried out to subdue the enemy.”

Journalist: – Will the future course of action unfold politically or militarily?
Suárez Mason: – Politically. That is my impression. I am not recommending anything. I am speaking of the ceasefire.
Q: – Does the adverse outcome of this action prevent trying again in the future?
SM: – No, on the contrary. I believe that one merit of the operation, failed as it may be, is that it brought the problem to a level of priority that Britain had not previously accorded it. This is what history will one day acknowledge in Lieutenant General Galtieri; he put the problem on the table, in full view, despite all the setbacks. Things did not turn out well, but even so they have their value.

Source: excerpt from an interview by César M. Sorkin.
Documentary Chronicle of the Malvinas. Hugo Gambini.
“Redacción” Library.

Patagonia: When the British Tried to Buy Peninsula Valdés

Península Valdés, 1880: The Falkland Island Association Offers to Buy It – The Navy Fights to Ensure Our Flag Flies

When the Welsh landed at Puerto Madryn, “the flag with the red dragon in the centre was flying on the hill above the caves…”. In 1965, to mark the centenary of the arrival of the first contingent of Welsh immigrants, Camwy magazine – published by the regional museum in Gaiman – reproduced in its July issue (No. 5) the diary of Lewis Humphreys, but transcribed the phrase as: “the Argentine flag with the red dragon…” (emphasis mine – C.I.D.). This version, with the word “Argentine” inserted, has been repeated by other writers without verifying its accuracy or providing any explanation. From the original account it is clear that it referred to the Welsh flag, which the Emigration Commission had given to Luis Jones and Edwin Roberts when they departed from Wales on 10 February 1865 to prepare the site for disembarkation. This is confirmed by Edwin Roberts’ own account, in which he relates that, once the warehouse was built, “as the friends of the Colony in Liverpool had sent a flag with the Red Dragon, a tall pole was set up in front of the depot and that flag was raised” (quoted by Matthew H. Jones in Trelew, un desafío patagónico, vol. I, p. 122). Another Welsh chronicler gives the same version: “On 27 July [1865] Edwin saw the Mimosa approaching and hurried to the white rocks near the shore. He hoisted the Red Dragon flag and fired into the air, then went out by boat to the ship to welcome them”.

To carry out the Interior Minister’s instructions, the military commander of Patagones, Lieutenant Colonel Julián Murga, was sent. On 15 September 1865, at the very spot where Enrique Líbanus Jones had established the settlement, he raised the Argentine flag once again.

Abraham Matthews, in his Chronicle of the Welsh Colony in Patagonia, recounts it as follows: “Captain Murga (who was the military commander of Patagones) came on behalf of the Argentine government to raise the flag of the Argentine Republic in the place and to give us formal permission to take possession of the land and settle it.”

The official record drawn up by Murga states that “in the name of his government he made formal delivery and placed in possession of the national lands granted to the Colony from the Country of Wales… After this, and having raised the Argentine flag and saluted it with a rifle volley as a sign of respect to the Argentine Nation which it represents, the Colony from the Country of Wales was established.” “The flag was raised in complete silence. The raising of the Argentine flag that day dealt a mortal blow to the idea of a Welsh Colony. Nonetheless, there was not the slightest sign of protest from the settlers.”

The flag raised on that occasion was brought to Chubut by Commander Murga from Patagones, and it remained there. This is evident from a note Murga sent on 1 October 1866 to the Inspector and Commander General of Arms of the Republic, General Benito Nazar, requesting the dispatch of “two National Flags”, as there was none in that Command “as one had been sent to Chubut, and the one left behind” was completely destroyed “due to the strong and constant winds”.

There, “inside and outside the Old Fort”, or on the embankment itself, the first houses were built, forming the initial nucleus of the city of Rawson – the oldest in Patagonia after Patagones and Viedma. When, ten years later, Antonio Oneto was appointed as the Executive Power’s representative for the administration of the colony, his instructions emphasised: “Prudence, tolerance, morality and the strictest justice must be the standard of all your administrative acts, so that the national flag may fly proudly over your residence and be respected and blessed by all.”

Ensuring the presence of the national flag in Patagonia – so coveted by foreigners – was no easy task, as the reader will see in the following pages. In late 1878, Commander Daniel de Solier of the gunboat La República found a company on Tova Island, in the northern part of the Gulf of San Jorge, engaged in hunting penguins and seals without Argentine government authorisation, operating under the French flag. Solier ordered them to lower it and to raise the Argentine flag on land, which they did without resistance.

A similar situation occurred on Leones Island, east of the previous one. Ordered by Captain Augusto Lasserre of the gunboat Paraná to suspend operations, the manager did so some time later. Upon leaving, he left the French flag flying and the Argentine flag rolled up at the base of the mast. This is how, in 1883, Captain Francisco Villarino of the schooner Santa Cruz found them, ordering the French flag lowered and the Argentine flag raised, with the corresponding honours. Similar incidents took place at other points along the Patagonian coast. Companies from various countries (United States, Britain, France, Chile), flying their own flags, exploited natural resources as if they were their property.

On 21 December 1880, the Falkland Island Association attempted to purchase from the Argentine Government the Península Valdés and “one hundred and sixty leagues in the vicinity of San Sebastián Bay in Tierra del Fuego” for the purpose of colonisation and livestock breeding. The request was denied; had it been accepted, it is certain the Argentine flag would never have been flown there.

From the book “Patagonia azul y blanca” by Clemente Dumrauf.

La Voz de Chubut