Malvinas: Blood Over The Murrell River

Blood on the Murrell River: The Commandos Who Fought in the "Death Zone" and Escaped an Ambush

"They're going to kill us all," muttered the Army and Gendarmerie men as they faced off against British paratroopers in the Falklands. They were trapped in the strip of land where a soldier’s chances of survival are nearly nonexistent—but they fought back. The bullets shattering the rocks, the shrapnel that tore into them, and how they ultimately forced the British to retreat when all seemed lost.
Nicolás Kasanzew || Infobae




Captain Figueroa (center), Lieutenant Anadón (right) y First Lieutenant García Pinasco (back), planifying the mission, June 6th, 1982 (Photo: Nicolás Kasanzew)


Through freezing cold and sleet, they navigated a sector battered by naval gunfire and riddled with their own minefields. Leading them was Lieutenant Marcelo Anadón, who knew the terrain well. Advancing cautiously along the riverbank, spaced about fifty meters apart, they suddenly found themselves bathed in the glow of a massive, radiant moon.

Sergeant Guillén, scanning the far side of the Murrell, noticed a faint glimmer. At first, he assumed it was just the moonlight reflecting off the water. Only later would he realize—it had been the sheen of a plastic poncho worn by a British soldier.


"They shredded my hood and the back of my jacket, but I kept firing. The medic, Moyano, pulled a bunch of shrapnel out of my arm and back."

As they reached the bridge—a simple wooden structure with no railings—Anadón and his men prepared to cross. That was when the British opened fire.

Figueroa, along with Non-Commissioned Officers Poggi and Tunini, was making his way back from the far side of the river, where they had gone to set up a post-ambush blockade. Just then, an explosion ripped through the air, followed by gunfire. Instinctively, all the commandos flattened themselves against the ground.

The British were about 80 meters away, positioned on a rocky high ground across the river.

"We're exposed. They're going to kill all three of us," Figueroa thought. In trying to set an ambush, they had walked straight into one. Without hesitation, he opened fire toward the flashes of enemy gunfire. His blood felt like it was bubbling in his veins, and his nostrils were flooded with the sharp scent of adrenaline.

The Argentine commandos had landed in what soldiers call the "death zone"—a stretch of battlefield where survival is almost impossible.


Figueroa: "We're Exposed. They're Going to Kill All Three of Us."

The British fired both in single shots and rapid bursts. Figueroa saw streaks of red and orange whipping through the darkness, writhing toward him like demonic ribbons, hunting for his life. They were tracer rounds—illuminated bullets the British loaded every five shots to guide their fire in the night.

"It was the most magnificent sight I’ve ever witnessed in my life," he tells me.

Bullets slammed into the nearby rocks, shattering them into a storm of dust and shrapnel. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled his lungs, leaving him lightheaded, almost intoxicated. The fear of death dulled, swallowed by

• "Captain, I'm hit!"
• "Where did they get you?"
• "In the leg, but I can crawl back."
• "Fall back, we’ll get to you soon."

"I'll help him and pull back with him," Tunini interjected.

The round had pierced Poggi’s calf, passing clean through without hitting bone.

Figueroa kept firing until his rifle jammed. Fortunately, his comrades—especially Sergeant Guillén—were scattered beyond the bridge, taking cover behind the rocks. Their relentless fire on the hill forced the British machine guns and rifles to divide their attention, shifting some of the incoming fire away from Figueroa.

Guillén recalls: "They shredded my hood and the back of my jacket, but I kept firing. The medic, Moyano, pulled a bunch of shrapnel out of my arm and back."

"Cheto" (Handsome) Anadón asked García Pinasco for permission to charge the British, but the section leader held him back, telling him to wait until daylight.

As Figueroa fell back, he heard several explosions—then silence. The British machine guns had gone quiet. It was the fearless Anadón, standard-bearer of Commando 601, who, with deadly precision, had launched FAL-mounted PDF grenades directly into the enemy’s position. Only their riflemen were still firing now.

Once again, "Cheto" Anadón asked García Pinasco for permission to attack. Again, the lieutenant denied him, insisting they wait. But as Figueroa reached their position, he roared, "Let’s go get these bastards!" The adrenaline and fury coursing through him made it impossible to hold back.

Despite his reservations, García Pinasco relented. Figueroa took command, and the unit stormed across the bridge to launch their assault. Anadón quickly organized his men into a staggered formation: Vergara, Suárez, Quinteros, and two gendarmes from the elite Alacrán group—Natalio Figueredo and Miguel Puentes.

A faint light was beginning to creep over the battlefield. The attack was about to begin.

"The objective was to sprint forward, surround them from both sides of the ridge, and wipe them out—leave no one behind," recalls Captain Figueroa.

Once everything was set, he raised his right arm and gave the order: "Charge, damn it! Let’s wipe these bastards out!"

The commandos stormed ahead, firing from the hip in fully automatic bursts, mimicking the cadence of a machine gun. Their shouts and insults tore through the night, meant to unnerve the British troops.

The first to reach the enemy position was the fearless Lieutenant Anadón. But as he scanned the area, he realized the British paratroopers had already fled in haste, dragging their wounded with them.

In their retreat, the enemy had left behind a trove of abandoned equipment—firearms, radios, rucksacks, tents, communication codes, berets, gloves, a camera, and even a small Union Jack. That flag would soon be displayed as a trophy at the Commando 601 headquarters in Puerto Argentino/Stanley.

García Pinasco had been ordered to strike the enemy with a swift raid and set up an ambush.

The sheer speed of the assault forced the British paratroopers into a chaotic retreat. In their haste, they left behind an active radio—still transmitting—used to communicate with their high command. Bloodstains pooled on the ground, grim evidence of their casualties.

Later, the Argentine troops intercepted enemy radio chatter: urgent requests for helicopters to evacuate the wounded. Not long after, about four kilometers away, they spotted a flare piercing the sky—followed by the descent of a Sea King helicopter, marked with the white insignia of a medical evacuation unit.

After the battle, Guillén helped Indio Poggi to his feet. Poggi looked at him and said, "Wash my wound."

Guillén reached into his pack and pulled out a Margaret River triangle-shaped bottle. He raised it to his lips, pretending to take a swig.

"You bastard!" Poggi roared. "Don’t drink my medicine!"

Spoils of Battle: British Paratroopers’ Abandoned Gear – June 7, 1982 (Photo: Nicolás Kasanzew)

Needless to say, the commandos eagerly devoured the gourmet rations abandoned by the men of the 3rd Parachute Battalion—dried apple compote, chocolate, nuts, biscuits, and raisins.

A bitter blow for the Brits; a feast fit for kings for the Argies.

But not all rewards were sweet. The Gendarmerie generously decorated its two men for their role in the battle. The Army, however, completely ignored the commandos of 601—the very unit that had handed them victory at the Murrell River.

Argentine Pilots in Super Etendard

Malvinas: Soldier Horacio Balvidares and the Camaradie of War

Camaraderie and commitment in the fight for Mount Tumbledown

The little-known story of soldier Horacio Balvidares

On the night of June 13, the battle for Tumbledown, an Argentine defensive position in the path of the British advance towards Puerto Argentino, began. It was a battle that both sides remember as very hard, fierce, with a lot of automatic weapons fire and hand-to-hand combat.


View from Mount Tumbledown

The troops of the 5th Marine Infantry Battalion, the 4th Infantry Regiment and the 6th Infantry Regiment gave ample evidence of their determination and bravery in the face of an equally determined and brave enemy. For two days the Army men had been fighting at close range, and under the cover of their own Artillery they tried to recover physically while perfecting their positions.


English drawing about Tumbledown combat

The remnants of Company "B" of the 6th Infantry Regiment were waiting on Wireless Ridge for their turn to engage. They could not determine where the enemy would come from, but the sounds of the increasingly violent fighting made it clear that action would soon begin. They were ordered to block the flank of a Marine section on Tumbledown Mountain and began to advance in the darkness broken by flares.

A soldier is wounded in the legs and Private Adorno bravely goes forward to help him. Before reaching the position he is shot and seriously wounded in the arm, falling onto the rocks.

Private Horacio Balvidares assists him and carries him to the rear, on foot and with his companion on his shoulder, he travels kilometers from Tumbledown to the entrance of the town of Puerto Argentino. There they are met by a nurse who had gone ahead.

After handing over his wounded comrade and despite having reached an area far from the combat, with greater safety, he turned around and began to return to his section's positions, knowing the danger of crossfire and hand-to-hand combat, so it was that while returning he was mortally wounded by an enemy artillery shell.

A brave man who rescues another brave man. A soldier who returns with determination to the place of danger. Soldier Balvidares left an indelible mark among his comrades and saved a life that is still remembered, thanked and paid tribute to.



Brave, generous, good comrades and, above all, respectful of the oath to the flag of their country; that is what our men were like in Malvinas.

Argentine government

Youtuber Visits Old Welsh Town in Argentina's Patagonia

Malvinas: Tumbledown Night

Tumbledown: Blood and Courage

The Battle of Mount Tumbledown: A Nocturnal Clash in the Malvinas War

The Battle of Mount Tumbledown took place on the night of June 13–14, 1982, as part of the British campaign to recapture Puerto Argentino, the capital of the Malvinas Islands. It was a brutal, close-quarters fight in freezing, rugged terrain, pitting the Argentine 5th Marine Infantry Battalion (BIM 5) against a British force comprising the 2nd Battalion Scots Guards, the 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles, elements of 42 Commando Royal Marines, and supporting units like the Welsh Guards and Blues and Royals. The battle’s savagery stemmed from its nocturnal setting, the rocky landscape, and the desperate stakes for both sides.

The Setting: A Dark, Hostile Landscape

Imagine a moonless night, the Malvinas’ winter wind slicing through the air, temperatures hovering near freezing. Mount Tumbledown, a jagged, 750-foot-high ridge of crags and boulders, looms west of Stanley. Its slopes are slick with wet peat and frost, littered with rocks perfect for defensive positions. The Argentine 5th Marines, under Commander Carlos Robacio, are dug into trenches and sangars (stone shelters), their positions fortified with machine guns, mortars, and snipers. They’re cold-weather trained, hardened, and determined to hold this key height overlooking the capital. On the British side, soldiers huddle in the darkness near Goat Ridge, their breath visible as they prepare for a silent advance, weighed down by packs, rifles, and anti-tank weapons.

The Opening Moves: Diversion and Stealth

Picture the battle starting at 8:30 p.m. local time. A diversionary attack kicks off south of Tumbledown—four light tanks from the Blues and Royals (two Scorpions, two Scimitars) rumble forward, their engines roaring, accompanied by a small Scots Guards detachment. Their muzzle flashes light up the night, drawing Argentine fire. Meanwhile, the main assault begins from the west: three companies of Scots Guards—Left Flank, Right Flank, and G Company—move silently in phases, bayonets fixed, under cover of darkness. Mortar teams from 42 Commando set up behind, ready to rain shells, while naval gunfire from HMS Active’s 4.5-inch gun booms offshore, its explosions illuminating the horizon in brief, eerie flashes.

The Clash: Savage Close-Quarters Fighting

Visualize the moment the Scots Guards hit the Argentine lines. Left Flank Company, leading the assault, creeps undetected to the western slopes—then a Guardsman spots an Argentine sniper. A single shot rings out, followed by a volley of 66mm anti-tank rockets streaking through the dark, their fiery trails briefly exposing the enemy. The Guards charge, machine-gunners and riflemen firing from the hip, a chaotic line of muzzle flashes advancing over open ground. Argentine marines of N Company, entrenched with FAL rifles and MAG machine guns, return fire—tracers arc across the night, ricocheting off rocks. Grenades explode, showering shale and dirt; bayonets clash in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The air fills with shouts, screams, and the metallic clatter of weapons.

Halfway up, Left Flank’s 15 Platoon, under Lieutenant Alasdair Mitchell, takes heavy casualties—two men fall dead, others wounded, their blood staining the rocks. Right Flank Company, under Major John Kiszely, pushes east, meeting fierce resistance from Marine Sub-Lieutenant Carlos Vázquez’s 4th Platoon. Phosphorous grenades burst, casting a ghastly white glow, revealing Argentine defenders fighting from crag to crag. The Scots Guards lose eight dead and 43 wounded in this relentless grind, their red tunics (in spirit, if not literal uniform) soaked in sweat and blood.

The Gurkhas and Mount William: A Parallel Struggle

Now shift your gaze south to Mount William, a sub-hill held by the Argentine O Company. The 1st Battalion 7th Gurkha Rifles, held in reserve initially, moves in after Tumbledown’s summit is secured. Picture Gurkhas in camouflage, kukris gleaming faintly, advancing across a shell-pocked saddle under Argentine mortar fire from Sapper Hill. Eight are wounded as shells burst in the soft peat, muffling some blasts but not the chaos. They take Mount William by 9:00 a.m., their disciplined advance a stark contrast to the earlier melee, yet no less determined. Robacio would say "We're not afraid of them, they fell like flies". They were humans after all.

 

The Welsh Guards and Sapper Hill: Delayed but Deadly

Imagine the Welsh Guards, paired with Royal Marines, stuck in a minefield en route to Sapper Hill. Their frustration mounts as Argentine mortars pound them from above, one man killed earlier on a motorbike dispatch. They’re meant to follow the Gurkhas but are bogged down, their silhouettes barely visible in the pre-dawn murk, cursing the delay as shells whistle overhead.

 

The Argentine Retreat: A Final Stand

See the Argentine 5th Marines’ resolve crack as dawn nears. A sniper—perhaps Private Luis Bordón—fires at a British Scout helicopter evacuating wounded, injuring two Guardsmen before being cut down in a hail of Scots Guards gunfire. By 9:00 a.m., the Scots Guards hold Tumbledown’s eastern high ground, and the Gurkhas secure Mount William. Commander Robacio plans a counterattack from Sapper Hill, but his men—16 dead, 64 wounded—begin a disciplined retreat toward Puerto Argentino, marching in parade order, colors high, defiant even in defeat. Thirty Argentine bodies lie scattered across the battlefield, a testament to the fight’s ferocity. As soon as Robacio arrives, ask the Militar Governor Menéndez to send all of his men to the front. He was disregarded.

The Aftermath: A Hard-Won Victory

Envision the scene at sunrise: British troops, exhausted, consolidate their positions. The Scots Guards’ Pipe Major James Riddell stands atop Tumbledown, his bagpipes wailing “The Crags of Tumbledown Mountain,” a haunting tribute to the fallen. A Volvo BV-202 lies wrecked by a mine, its crew dazed. The British tally: 10 dead (8 Scots Guards, 1 Welsh Guard, 1 Royal Engineer), over 60 wounded. Medals—DSOs, Military Crosses, Distinguished Conduct Medals—will follow, but for now, the survivors catch their breath, the road to Puerto Argentino open at last.

Malvinas: The Fall of Gazelle XX-411 Under Güemes Team’s Fierce Fire

A Unique Photo… and Why It Matters

This photo is unique because the British NEVER show their dead—by law. In stark contrast, we have been bombarded with images of our fallen, displayed as trophies by them. To put it into perspective, the contingent of journalists embedded with British forces during the war was strictly forbidden from photographing bodies—unless they were already inside a body bag.

Now, let’s analyze this moment: May 21, 1982.

The wreckage belongs to the Gazelle helicopter of 3BAS, shot down by the brave men of Equipo Güemes (Güemes Combat Team), stationed in San Carlos. That day, they didn’t just take down this aircraft—they brought down three more helicopters. After the battle, they managed to break through the British encirclement and reached an estancia called Douglas, in the center of the island. There, on May 25, they formed up to honor Argentina’s national day before being airlifted to Puerto Argentino. Legendary footage by Eduardo Rotondo captures their arrival, where they were greeted with chocolates by Colonel Seineldín himself.

That same day, May 21, as British troops were landing, Sea King helicopters were transporting components of a Rapier surface-to-air missile launcher. One of these Sea Kings came under concentrated Argentine fire from a hill defended by Lieutenant Esteban (RI-25) and Sub-Lieutenant Vázquez (RI-12). The aircraft was forced into an emergency landing.

Then came the Gazelle XX-411, piloted by Sergeants Andy Evans (Royal Marines) and Eddy Candlish, rushing to assist. But as it approached, it was met with a relentless storm of Argentine gunfire. It crashed into the water—Evans perished, while Candlish managed to swim to shore, where kelpers helped him.

The British response was immediate. Another Gazelle, XX-402, armed with rocket pods, was dispatched to the battlefield. Lieutenant Ken D. Francis RM and his co-pilot, Corporal Brett Giffin, were at the controls. But once again, the Argentine riflemen struck with precision. The helicopter was torn apart by FAL fire, crashing at Punta Camarones, killing both men on board.

And that’s what we see in the photo: the shattered XX-402, guarded by a sentry. The lifeless bodies of the pilots lie on the ground.

Approaching rapidly, with his back to the camera, is Dr. Rick Jolly, the British medic who was later decorated by Argentina for saving the lives of countless soldiers—a true man of honor.

This image holds countless details of significance: the rocket pods, the antennas, the helmets… every element a silent witness to that day.

And there was yet another Gazelle—XX-412—that came in for a direct attack on our troops. It, too, was hit by Argentine fire. According to British reports, it managed to withdraw and was later repaired.

That afternoon, four British helicopters were knocked out of combat—by just a handful of brave men.

This isn’t just history. This is the untold story of courage, strategy, and sacrifice.

Source: Pucará de Malvinas

Welsh Legacy: Tourism in the Patagonian Welsh Towns