According to the programme the Commodore was due to be heading for Southern Thule or the Antarctic. In fact he was on his way to South Georgia with Mr Davidoff, the scrap metal contractor, on board. Trombetta did not intend to land Davidoff while we were there, nor did he intend to let us know where he was.
Rex and I had assessed the position to be pretty much as it was. This was confirmed when we returned to the Falklands on 23 December when a member of the British Antarctic Survey reported the arrival of the ARA Irizar at South Georgia. It was also clear that people were landing, without permission, at Leith. The purpose it seems, was to allow Davidoff to compile an inventory of the scrap in order to plan a transport operation.
We intercepted a signal from Buenos Aires congratulating Trombetta on his ‘successful operation’. It was all very odd. The contract had been agreed with Salvessons, so why should Davidoff not go through the standard ‘immigration procedures’? In fact he had not informed anyone, and both his landing and the way that Trombetta had facilitated it became a completely covert operation. It all looked unnecessarily furtive. According to Trombetta’s programme he should have been in the Weddell Sea at the time. This was hardly the agreed spirit of co-operation. I concluded that the Argentine Navy had entered into a most convenient arrangement with Davidoff. It was nothing less than a test of British resolve over the sovereignty of South Georgia. It had been my stated opinion for some months that the Argentines would try to do something of this kind. I signalled my conclusions to C in C Fleet and the Ministry of Defence. Rex Hunt backed my judgement. The response of the Buenos Aires Embassy was equally predictable: they played it down in the interests of maintaining good relations with the Argentines.
The affection we all had for South Georgia made this intrusion particularly unwelcome. For those who have visited this remote British outpost it is not difficult to understand. Here is an island of spectacular scenery with the highest peak, Mount Paget, soaring to over 9,000 feet. The extraordinary variety of wildlife and ever-changing climatic moods also contribute to its unique character. And there are sturdy threads of history here too, particularly with the great Antarctic pioneers, and most of all Sir Ernest Shackleton. Indeed, as always on our visits, we had duly paid our respects at his Grytviken graveside. We had also had a look at the whaling stations of Husvik and Stromness. This had been partly political: Rex had not only wanted to check their condition but had wanted to find out if they were inhabited. The film team had wanted to film the bay area from which Sir Ernest Shackleton had completed his epic crossing of the island. In his book Rex discusses the Argentine ‘visit’ to Leith:
First there was a signal from Peter Whitty the Base Commander saying that the Argentines had made a clandestine night landing on December 20. The Irizar had been seen there by the crew of a visiting French yacht.
Peter had gone to Leith to investigate and found that the birds had flown but ample evidence that they had been ashore. Chalked on the Emergency Depot was a dated notice claiming possession of South Georgia in the name of Argentina.
The other pieces of the jigsaw came from our Embassy in Buenos Aires and from Salvessons in Edinburgh who Davidoff had also notified on the day of his departure from the mainland. In landing at Leith without reporting to Peter Whitty at Grytviken, Davidoff had not only broken the terms of his contract with Salvessons but also the law of the Dependencies with which he had pledged to comply.
More significantly Captain Trombetta had violated all the norms of international law by taking his vessel, a Naval ship, into British Territorial Waters without prior diplomatic clearance, ignoring the recognized port of entry, and sending a landing party ashore without permission. In my view he would not have done this without the approval of Admiral Anaya, the Commander-in-Chief of the Argentine Navy. My immediate reaction was that here was the beginning of another Southern Thule.
Anaya was clearly testing the water. If we allowed him to get away with it the Falkland Islanders would certainly be in a more vulnerable position. I recommended to the FCO that we should institute proceedings against Davidoff and make a suitably strong protest to the Argentine Government.
We had also intercepted a signal from the Naval Headquarters in Buenos Aires to the Irizar. It said effectively: ‘Operation well completed.’ If this had been a purely private deal with Davidoff the Navy would have been unlikely to be involved. It would certainly not have been an operation. But since it was, and because of the other innuendoes, there was only one conclusion to draw. The FCO sent instructions to Ambassador Williams to deliver the protest in the strongest terms, but instructed Rex not to institute proceedings against Davidoff under Falkland Islands Dependencies Law, because, as the telegram put it: ‘This would risk provoking a most serious incident which could escalate and have an unforeseeable outcome’.
It seemed to me that the FCO hardly needed a crystal ball to see exactly what the future could be. This weak-kneed response was in fact giving Anaya exactly the encouragement he had hoped for. If there was a moment when invasion became inevitable, this was it.
The last day of 1981 was overcast with strong chill winds, violent hail squalls and the menace of worse to come. I was not the only one to feel this was ominous. ‘It was an appropriate harbinger,’ Rex wrote in his book My Falkland Days.
Our Christmas break in Stanley was brief. This was because we now had to go to Montevideo to collect a replacement helicopter. This had been boxed up and put into a Hercules and was due to arrive in Montevideo at the end of December. At 06.00 on Boxing Day we headed north. The timing was sufficiently accurate for us to arrive in Montevideo at the same time as the Hercules. In order to save as much time as possible the aircraft was unpacked and assembled at breakneck speed. Following a successful test flight on New Year’s Eve the helicopter was embarked and we sailed for the Antarctic. This was a disappointment for some of us. If the test flight had been unsatisfactory we would have been able to enjoy the New Year in Montevideo. The irony was that soon after we left the ship’s main engine suffered a major injector failure. We had to anchor just outside the harbour to carry out the repair. The Hercules had encountered similar problems. She suffered an engine failure on take-off and had to return to Montevideo. But whereas we were under way again in a few hours the Hercules had to wait for a new engine to be flown out from the UK in another Hercules. The RAF therefore had a further two weeks in Montevideo. We could have forgiven them their luck if only they had remembered to take our home-going mail out of the stricken aeroplane and put it on a commercial flight.
The storm was gathering, both literally and metaphorically, as we set off south. In the UK some 300 MPs had lent their support to the survival of Endurance, at least for another season. They were supported by an influential group of peers, newspaper articles and editorials, and media pressure from television and radio. Even John Nott was going to have to take notice. And certain people within the MOD must by now have realized that it was a mistake to axe the ship. Only those with the sensitivity of a bulldozer could have failed to recognize that the argument had been won and lost. If my involuntary protagonist Michael Power had climbed to the top of Ben Nevis and announced himself as the reincarnation of a poached egg I may have felt a measure of sympathy for him. As it was I had to believe that here was a perfectly rational man who had cemented himself into an utterly irrational position.
At one point, when we were in the Falklands, I received a message from the MOD accusing me of planting an article in Lloyd’s List. I fired back quite a fierce signal suggesting that the accusation held as much substance as a colander. I had, however, little doubt about the source of this utterly scurrilous speculation.
Rex Hunt had written of the worsening situation, including unauthorized overflights by Argentine Airforce Hercules and the insensitivity of the Argentines in antagonizing the Islanders by reducing the flights out of the Islands from two to one per week. The only flights out of the Falklands were via Argentina. They could tighten the noose or slacken it
according to the perceived political exigencies of the moment.
By this early stage of 1982 most of the effort, politically and ministerially, was in preparation for the ‘talks about talks about sovereignty’. Subsequently Rex had wished ‘God Speed’ to Councillors Tim Blake and John Cheek bound for New York for the talks. The day before they left they had called at Government House and had met Lord and Lady Buxton who had flown in that day to sail south on board Endurance. Indeed Lord Buxton had also enjoyed a private conversation with Dr Costa Mendes, the Argentine Foreign Minister, before leaving Buenos Aires. Lord Buxton had formed the impressions that, although the Junta were putting Mendes under increasing pressure to produce a solution to the sovereignty issue, Mendes thought an invasion of the Falklands was unlikely, but that the Military might plan unopposed landings, probably in South Georgia. Dr Costa Mendes had also agreed that incidents such as ‘Operation Condor’ could not necessarily be prevented. He had told Aubrey Buxton that the sovereignty of the Islands was crucial to Argentina. This demonstrates not Lord Buxton’s credulity, but the snakish style of Dr Costa Mendes.
Ambassador Williams was equally taken in. Indeed it was only two days before the actual landing on the islands that he acknowledged an invasion was under way. He later recognized his duplicity in an infamous signal: ‘Dr Mendes,’ he said, ‘has been less than honest with me.’
Meanwhile a letter to The Times had a major impact:
Your columns have already carried correspondence regarding the retention in service of HMS Endurance, the Royal Navy’s only vessel capable of carrying the White Ensign into the South Atlantic and ice-filled Antarctic seas thus maintaining both symbolically and practically Britain’s traditional position in this potentially very important land and sea area.
Since the intention to pay off HMS Endurance at the end of the present southern season became known considerable public and parliamentary concern has been expressed.
We, the undersigned, who all have personal knowledge, or knowledge of the present and developing situation in the area, share these anxieties. While we appreciate the problems facing the Royal Navy in meeting essential Defence commitments in a climate of economy, the decision to axe HMS Endurance is tantamount to the withdrawal of the Royal Navy from hazardous waters that no other Naval vessel can undertake.
The saving will be greatly outweighed by the consequences to Britain’s future interests in what is expected to become a vital resource area. With 21 nations from all corners of the world now moving fast to establish or enlarge an Antarctic presence, in many cases at expense considerably greater than this country seems willing to envisage, there is no time for Britain to pull back or to move along the path of retreat. The withdrawal of HMS Endurance will be seen as a step in this direction, thus Britain’s influence will be diminished at a time when it will be greatly needed in a determination of conservation and the regulation of exploitation.
signed,
Lord Shackleton Eric Ogden
Peter Scott Jim Parker
Vivian Fuchs Michael Shersby
Admiral Irving Tom Woodfield
Lord Morris
The sustained campaign can only have further irritated a now marginalized Secretary of State and certain Civil Servants and uniformed staff within the MOD.
During our time in Montevideo we had embarked a team from the Scott Institute led by Dr Vernon Squire. One of the team members was Monica Kristianson who had travelled south with us the previous season. The news that Monica was to join us once more had an uplifting effect on shipboard morale, particularly as off Montevideo she had taken the opportunity to show off her bikini in the sunshine. The team were to continue their work on the movement of tabular icebergs. The first large tabular iceberg appeared right on cue and it was possible to devote an entire day to the experiments conducted by the three scientists and their party of assistants from the ship’s company. This iceberg was roughly diamond-shaped with sides some three-quarters of a mile long and with 50-foot sheer sides to sea level. The work went smoothly this time in reasonable weather. This was considered to be a little unfair by a certain senior rating who had determined, if the weather closed in, that it was his turn to huddle up closest to Monica. Such was the spirit of heroism in Endurance I believe every member of the ship’s company would have volunteered.
We were a little surprised to see the Argentine ship Bahia Paraiso at Hope Bay. I invited the Captain on board but the offer was ‘respectfully declined because of the urgent need to deal with matter of some importance’. Subsequently the same Captain (Cesar Trombetta) proved himself to be a less resourceful liar when he talked on the radio about the movements of the Irizar. He said the ship was making passage through the ice to Belgrano Base in the Antarctic Peninsula. I knew full well she was heading for Southern Thule.
The following day we spent in the vicinity of King George Island where a small team of us visited the Polish Base in the morning and the Russian and Chilean bases in the afternoon. The poor Poles were in a terrible state because of the lack of support from home, but they were battling with a little help from everyone except the Soviets. The Chileans were housed in a modern well-disciplined Airforce Transit Base. This was a centre for C130 (Hercules) operations throughout the Antarctic Peninsula. The next-door Soviet base was predictably dirty and the people were scruffy and apathetic; indeed only the KGB man who had arrived two days before had a spark of vivacity.
That night we anchored off the Russian Base and held a buffet supper for personnel from each of the bases. The several nationalities we already had on board helped to make this a truly international evening. After dinner we drank toasts to each of the countries represented. Because of a slight ‘memory loss’ I concluded by proposing a second toast to the Poles. It had been instructive to note the perfunctory way in which the Russians had acknowledged their Eastern Bloc neighbours the first time. This, at least, gave them a chance to make amends.
Before we went ashore we put food for the Poles into one boat and all our visitors into another. The boats beached simultaneously about a quarter of a mile inshore from our anchorage. When they reached the beach the coxswain of the boat carrying the stores leapt ashore and invited all the passengers in the other boat to help carry the food. I had the pleasurable vision of a KGB Officer carrying provisions to a dump at the head of the beach. Indeed I wanted to cherish the moment and took a flash photograph of him doing this and later sent it to Lech Walesa.
The better weather was a great boon to the second work period. The ice had also receded more than we had expected, and indeed more than most of the experienced Antarctic hands had experienced. The British Antarctic Survey geologists were pleased with what they had managed to accomplish, and the Scott Polar team had completed two successful iceberg experiments. Meanwhile, we had made better than anticipated headway with our hydrographic work and almost all the Northern Peninsula bases had been visited. In this context our Uruguayan Officer, Mario Fontanot, had been an invaluable interpreter. I made a special request for him to remain on board for the final work period. He told me that the South American Spanish spoken by the KGB Officer was absolutely perfect. It was only about 15 minutes into their dinner conversation that he had faltered on a couple of words. But for this he could easily have passed for an Argentine or Uruguayan. I had also noted how good his English had been. In the early part of the evening he told me he had never visited England, although half a bottle of scotch later he was able to describe Waterloo Station in some detail.
Towards the end of the work period my Second-in-Command, Mike Green, developed a grumbling appendix, but happily the symptoms never became too acute. Nevertheless for a few days he was in bed and in some discomfort. He struggled on for some time. Finally, at the doctor’s insistence, we had to make arrangements to fly him home via Argentina.
We returned to Stanley on 17 January where my main task was to perform the annual inspection of the Royal Marines.
I enjoyed my leisurely call on Rex and Mavis
, and had an equally relaxing schedule catching up with other old friends and acquaintances. The Falkland Islands is not a place where you are immediately seduced by the landscape or climate. But the warmth of the people more than makes up for that. We talk about a sense of community and being a good neighbour too easily in the UK. We have devalued the meaning. In the Falkland Islands, despite the isolation of many of the farms, there is a real sense of community and neighbourliness. In some ways it is like setting the clock back fifty years. For everything you lose in technological convenience you make up for with camaraderie. We were also joined by Colonel Love, the Military Attaché from our Buenos Aires Embassy. He and his wife had come to stay for a few days in the Falklands. Although we were very pleased to see him, I reported,‘I was disappointed at his lack of knowledge and, since he mentioned it, the special lack of knowledge at the Embassy of Argentine aspirations in the South Atlantic’ We lent him some videotapes to take back in an attempt to improve their understanding.
The next period of the ship’s programme was in the Cape Horn area. This is where we were to perform our duties as a safety ship for the Round the World Yacht Race. I hoped I would not have to face an emergency if the South African yacht got into difficulties in our sector. A rescue would have exposed the ship to the possibility of holding a conversation with those rescued. But this was also an opportunity to visit the Beagle Channel area and later to make a low-key visit to Chile.
On 21 January we were pounding into heavy seas at Estrecho de le Maire which is an infamous stretch of water between the islands of Los Estados and the Cape of San Diego. The larger boats that were leading the race had already passed, and two of the smaller entrants passed during the day sliding down the steep slopes of a following sea. Late the same night Endurance succeeded in rounding Cape Horn, initially on a rescue mission to assist the British yacht Bubblegum. But the Chileans had the matter in hand so we entered the Beagle Channel and calmer waters. As we neared the disputed islands of Nelson and Picton we were joined first of all by an Argentine destroyer that was only slightly more communicative than a Trappist monk, and then by two small motor launches that kept a close station and followed us all the way up the channel.
Beyond Endurance: An Epic of Whitehall and the South Atlantic Page 13
