Scram!

by Harry Benson

  During the night, the Paras moved into their final positions ready to attack the narrow isthmus of land containing the settlements of Darwin and Goose Green. The night-flying Sea Kings lifted three 105mm howitzer guns and ammunition into position. No other junglie support was allocated for the forthcoming battle. To Brigadier Thompson, the amphibious force commander, Goose Green was a sideshow, a politically induced diversion from the main task of moving east towards Port Stanley. Other than offering naval gunfire support from HMS Arrow, 2 Para would have to do it alone.

  The first few phases of the six-phase attack went according to plan, with the four ninety-man paratroop companies moving forward one by one, leapfrogging one another. It was only in the last few hours of darkness that the Paras hit trouble, closing in on well dug-in enemy positions on Darwin Hill. Fog out at sea prevented any assistance from ground-attack Harriers. Worse, Arrow’s gun jammed, removing the ability to illuminate the battlefield for the 81mm mortars.

  The Paras were now completely on their own. They were also pinned down by machine-gun fire as first light dawned on the morning of Friday 28 May. A failed attempt to break the deadlock led to the loss of several men, including the Para adjutant and a company second-in-command.

  Impatient at the loss of momentum, Lieutenant Colonel ‘H’ Jones stood up and charged the enemy trench, with his bodyguard following behind him, but was cut down by machine-gun fire. A radio message was shouted to battalion headquarters ‘Sunray is down’. There was disbelief among 2 Para that their commanding officer had been shot.

  In the Argentine trenches, ammunition and morale were running low as the morning wore on. Their machine-gun posts on Darwin Hill were now overrun with help from well-aimed 66mm rockets fired from the shoulder. Within hours, the Paras had taken the high ground. Three Argentine Pucaras now swept over the scene, having taken off earlier from the airport at Port Stanley. Their first target was the gun position just to the north of Goose Green. The British gunners managed to drive off this attack, firing more shoulder-launched rockets, this time Blowpipe.

  Two of the small Scout helicopters had been ferrying ammunition to the guns from San Carlos. They were now told to go further towards the battlefield and pick up the body of Jones and other wounded Paras.

  As the Scouts approached their pick-up point, two more Pucaras swept past them, quickly turning for a second pass. The Argentine turboprops now lined up for a head-on attack on the two helicopters. It was the worst nightmare for the British pilots. The slow-speed Pucaras would keep coming at them until they had finished off their target. There was simply nowhere to run.

  The Pucaras singled out one of the Scouts, Delta Romeo, firing a deadly blast of machine-gun fire. The pilot, Lieutenant Richard Nunn RM, was killed immediately. Delta Romeo, now out of control, crashed and bounced across the grassy terrain, throwing clear the crewman Sergeant Belcher who had been badly hit by the machine-gun fire.

  Watching this appalling scene unfold next to him, Captain Jeff Niblett had no choice in the other Scout, Delta Tango, than to land immediately. If he stayed in the air the Pucaras would chase him down. But the Pucaras broke off their attack and peeled away to the north. They had seen the second Scout on the ground and assumed they had shot it down as well. It was little consolation that the lead Pucara crashed into a mountain on return to Stanley. The wreckage was found four years later. The other Pucara returned safely.

  The injured Belcher was loaded into Delta Tango and taken back to the field hospital at Ajax Bay. Niblett then returned to Camilla Creek House, leading two gunship Scouts armed with anti-tank missiles. The weapons were not fired. For his ‘dashing leadership and courage throughout the battle’, Lieutenant Colonel Jones was awarded a posthumous Victoria Cross. Lieutenant Nunn, posthumously, and Captain Niblett were both awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

  By mid-afternoon, 2 Para were closing in on Goose Green airfield and the settlement. The soldiers were still fighting from trench to trench. To the south of the airfield came the disparaging sound of Argentine helicopters, a Puma and Hueys landing troop reinforcements, suggesting the battle had a way to run. Two Aeromacchi jets appeared out of nowhere. The Para soldiers watched the aircraft make their low-level runs towards them. The cannon shells and rockets streaked past, exploding harmlessly in the soft Falkland peat. A quick-thinking Royal Marine from the attached air defence unit turned and fired a Blowpipe missile at one of the retreating jets. The high-speed missile roared away from him, quickly catching up with the slower jet as it retreated into the distance. The Aeromacchi dived towards the ground and exploded.

  Two more airplanes followed up the attack minutes later. This time it was propeller-driven Pucaras crossing the battlefield at low level. A bomb fell from one aircraft, exploding in a ball of fire as it hit the ground. It was napalm. The other aircraft released its stream of rockets at the troops on the ground. Once again, all of the weapons missed their target. But a hail of rifle- and machine-gun fire was directed against the Pucaras. It was inevitable that some of the bullets would connect, damaging both aircraft. As one of the Pucaras tumbled from the sky, the pilot ejected. He was captured soon afterwards.

  Almost immediately, a ground-attack Harrier shot through the low cloud that was just beginning to break up. Rockets spewed from the British jet, silencing the two Argentine air defence guns on the edge of the Goose Green airstrip.

  Mark Evans had already been flying on and off all day. Summoned on board the assault ship HMS Intrepid well before dawn for another ‘special mission’, a Royal Marine major had briefed him to take some night sights and spot for Argentine soldiers lying in wait ahead of the British advance on the northern flank. Flying over land in the darkness can only be done at high level in order to avoid flying into a hillside. Attempting to fly blind beneath the cloud and pouring rain would have been a suicide mission. Turning the job down was not what the major expected to hear. It had been a tense start to the day.

  Now, late in the afternoon on 28 May, Evans was heading south towards Goose Green in Yankee Whiskey. Although the cloud still hung low over the hills, there was only just enough of a gap to cross the high ground of the Sussex Mountains. Beneath the Wessex hung a pallet load of ammunition for the guns at Camilla Creek House. Leading Aircrewman Smiler Smiles was leaning out of the doorway keeping an eye on the net swinging below them, as they began their descent towards Camilla Creek.

  Evans didn’t see the Argentine aircraft at first. All he knew was that another helicopter in the distance had suddenly changed direction. Then he heard a shout over the radio: ‘Fixed wing with propellers.’

  The surviving Pucara suddenly appeared right in front of him. The two aircraft were lined up head to head, closing fast on each other.

  ‘Shit, Pucara,’ shouted Evans.

  It was far too late to go to ground and run. The only option was to try and escape up into the clouds. Evans pulled back hard on the cyclic stick, completely forgetting that nearly a ton of ammunition dangled beneath him. The aircraft nose came up but the weight of the load dragged the aircraft down. It took only a second or so but it seemed an eternity before the sluggish Wessex gradually began to respond and gain height. Evans watched the needle on the vertical speed indicator point upwards, showing that they were now climbing. He willed the load to get lighter and to be engulfed by the clouds. It was a race against time before the Pucara got them.

  Just as he expected to get a windscreen full of lead, the screen went white. They had beaten the Pucara to safety. It was a close call.

  Although not hit as badly as his colleague, the second Pucara had also been damaged by the small-arms fire as it flew low over the British troops at Goose Green. The Argentine pilot was focused on the warning lights in his cockpit and whether he might have to eject. The British helicopter that loomed briefly in front of him was an opportunity target. But the opportunity didn’t last, as the helicopter disappeared into the cloud. Despite his fears of ejection and the prospect of bumping into a Sea Harrie
r, the pilot managed to get the Pucara back to Stanley airport.

  Flying in cloud is never much of a problem. All helicopter pilots are trained to fly on instruments. But for junglies who spend the vast majority of their time flying tactically, at low level, mostly looking out of the cockpit and only occasionally glancing inside for a quick check that all is well, switching from visual to instrument flying always comes as a bit of a shock. Evans switched his attention down onto the instruments inside his cockpit. After a couple of seconds to take in what he was seeing, his eyes began to settle into a regular search pattern that told him what the helicopter was doing.

  Now safely in cloud, his next problem was going to be how to get back down without hitting a mountain. North and east were out because of the hills extending from the San Carlos area. South was out because, although the land was low lying and flat, it meant going back over Goose Green. The only option was to head out west. Between them, Evans and Smiles decided that ten minutes would put them safely out over the middle of Falkland Sound. They could then turn north and descend cautiously until they could see the sea.

  It would have been a peculiar sight to the Argentine forces on the high ridgeline of West Falkland overlooking Falkland Sound. They would have heard the helicopter well before they saw anything. Their first sight would have been a pallet of ammunition dragging underneath the cloud in front of them, followed shortly afterwards by a large green helicopter attached above. It was a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire as Evans saw the stream of red tracer bullets hurtling across in front of him. Raising the nose and pulling power once again, he brought the Wessex back up into the cloud before descending again a little further out across the Sound.

  Although forced to make such a dramatic detour, Evans and Smiles now flew back to Camilla Creek to complete their original mission and drop off the valuable load of ammunition. It was dusk as they returned to the relative safety of San Carlos. Unencumbered by the weight of the load, the Wessex was now far more responsive to fly. They sped back at low level, meandering through the grassy valleys.

  ‘Right, that’s enough for today. Back for tea and medals, Smiler?’ remarked Evans drily.

  On the ground, the end of the battle was tantalisingly close. During the late afternoon the advancing British troops reported seeing a white flag waving from one of the Argentine trenches. A Para officer stood up to take their surrender. He fell to the ground, shot from another trench. The Paras held off, shivering in captured trenches and shell holes, this time sending forward two Argentine prisoners with terms for surrender.

  As night fell, a firepower demonstration of naval gunfire support and ground-attack Harriers was arranged for early morning. It wasn’t needed. The Argentines surrendered on the morning of Saturday 29 May. It had been an ignominious day for the Argentine army.

  When 2 Para’s stand-in commanding officer Major Chris Keeble took the surrender, he was astonished to see an initial parade of 150 Argentine airmen followed by over a thousand Argentine soldiers. Conventional military wisdom suggested a three-to-one ratio in favour of the attacker in order to overrun a defended position. The British had defeated a force with a two-to-one ratio against them. It was a famous and dramatic victory. But with the deaths of eighteen British and forty-five Argentine soldiers and airmen, it had also been a costly political diversion.

  With the break-out from San Carlos by 3 Brigade, there was no longer much question of the Argentines disrupting the beachhead. Air attacks now shifted to the British supply line, whether trying to sink further ships at sea or inhibit progress across East Falkland toward Stanley. On the ground, Argentine troops were well dug into the hills around Stanley. Extraordinarily, they had so far failed to mount any kind of counterattack against the British landings or even any fighting patrols. And now substantial reinforcements of British troops and helicopters were well on their way.

  The question was, how much attrition the British could take before the Falklands winter worsened? The weather may have been unpredictable for the ships at sea, ranging from days of thick fog to boiling seas to flat calm. But for the land forces, it had been tolerable with mostly crisp clear days interspersed with days of low cloud, rain and drizzle. It couldn’t last. Snow showers and strong winds would soon be on their way.

  Chapter 11

  Advance: 30–31 May 1982

  RUNNING THROUGH THE middle of East Falkland is a line of inhospitable hills. To the south of these hills at Goose Green were the men of 2 Para, having concluded their remarkable victory on the morning of 29 May. To the north were 3 Para and 45 Commando, moving forward on foot across the rough open terrain.

  At the end of the line of hills lies Mount Kent. At 1,500 feet, it is not a huge mountain. But it dominates the approach to the capital Port Stanley from the west. For the British, the capture of Mount Kent was the lynchpin that would draw together the two-pronged advance on northern and southern flanks. It would also provide a focal point for the final assault on Port Stanley.

  In the run up to the battle for Goose Green, an important development was taking place far out to the east in the mountains overlooking Stanley.

  On the night of Monday 24 May, a four-man patrol of D Squadron SAS was exploring the slopes of Mount Kent. Finding little enemy activity to trouble them, the patrol signalled back to San Carlos that the mountain was there for the taking. A plan was hatched to fly in the Royal Marines of 42 Commando and secure the position the following night. Unfortunately that afternoon all available helicopters at San Carlos, including the night-flyers, had been diverted away to the north of Pebble Island to help in the rescue of survivors from HMS Coventry.

  On the evening of 26 May, four Sea Kings attempted to carry in the remainder of D Squadron, now released from their diversionary work at Goose Green. Flying the lead Sea King as usual was Lieutenant Nigel North, leader of the Pebble Island raid. His crew kept up their continuous chatter throughout the flight, double-checking their positions and keeping North informed of how far they had to run.

  Worsening weather conditions of low cloud and hill fog soon forced him to slow the formation down. It also made navigation even more difficult and less certain. Navigating accurately over the featureless Falklands terrain at extreme low level, mostly by reference to contours, is difficult enough in the best of daylight conditions. But even though flying in appalling visibility using monochrome night vision goggles, North still expected his co-pilot and aircrew to get it spot on.

  As the formation approached their intended target, the co-pilot misidentified the entrance valley and run-in point. To make matters worse, Bill Pollock’s aircraft, flying as number two, called that they could see the reception team on the ground behind the leader. North landed the formation, thinking that they were in the wrong place but close. The SAS teams quickly unloaded their weapons and heavy equipment and the Sea Kings departed. It wasn’t long after the helicopters had gone that the SAS teams realised they were completely lost. The team leader radioed through to HMS Intrepid that they needed extracting. They had no idea where they were. It was a rare error that could easily have proved costly for troops and helicopter crews alike.

  By this time, the Sea Kings were all back at San Carlos and their crews asleep. North was woken and told to sort out the mess. He ordered the aircraft to be refuelled and the crews to be briefed again. But before they could get them to the right place, first they had to find them. Just two Sea Kings set off this time, North and Paul Humphreys followed by Pete Rainey and Peter Spens-Black. Retracing their headings, they soon ran into low cloud that forced them to climb and continue above it. It seemed an impossible task to get back to the unknown drop-off point. But the SAS team on the ground heard the helicopters coming and switched on as many torches as they could find. It wasn’t much, but the burst of dull light gave the Sea King crews just enough of a reference to make their approach. As they came in to land, the troops materialised like magic through the cloud. They were a mile and a half from their planned destination
.

  With the men now back on board, the two helicopters lifted off towards Mount Kent. Flying conditions were already marginal. The low cloud meant that light levels for the night goggles were poor. As the formation slowed to hover-taxi up the rising ground, the low cloud turned to fog. Further progress was impossible. North landed and waited for fifteen minutes in hope that the cloud might clear. It didn’t. The mission was aborted and the Sea Kings returned frustrated to San Carlos.

  The following night, a single Sea King inserted some of the troops on Mount Kent while the other three Sea Kings lifted guns to Camilla Creek for the attack on Goose Green. The rest of D Squadron were brought in by two Sea Kings the next day, on Friday 28 May, much to everyone’s relief. However, on the return journey, North’s Sea King diverted towards Darwin to pick up a casualty. Talk of white flags and surrender had reached the crew. They were under the impression that the battle for Goose Green had ended. It had not. As the helicopter came in to land, tracer streaked towards the aircraft on all sides. A bullet passed within a whisper of the main rotor gearbox. The tracer came from the enthusiastic troops of 2 Para, convinced that the helicopter was an Argentine Chinook.

  Late the following day, the SAS found their position compromised by the arrival of five helicopters at the base of Mount Kent carrying Argentine commandos. A series of firefights and skirmishes continued throughout the night and into the next day. An attempt by the Sea Kings to insert 42 Commando by night was again thwarted by bad weather, this time heavy snow showers. The formation of Sea Kings made it to within five miles of their intended target before abandoning the attempt.

  Improved weather on Sunday 30 May gave an opportunity to try to secure Mount Kent with a big lift of troops. With one Sea King out of action, the remaining three Sea Kings flew their 42 Commando troops straight onto the mountain. The bold move to within a few miles of Stanley had taken six days. As Colonel Mike Rose, the commanding officer of the SAS, was reported to have said nonchalantly to the reporter Max Hastings as he flew in the back of a Sea King, ‘Who dares wins’.