It was 1 April, the April Fool was the British Government and the jokers were in the opulent rooms of Whitehall and our Embassy in Buenos Aires. I wrote in my diary:
Anything could happen today. Anything. The weather is not good, from the west, 7–8 with a westerly swell. We’re making good 9.5 knots with 160 revs rung on, taking a devious route to Stanley.
Sent a signal to DNOT (Director of Naval Operations and Trade) asking for information, diplomatic telegrams and so on, but no reply. No news from Fleet or from the British Naval Attaché in Beunos Aires – in the latter case not surprising.
The Fleet has ordered me to set watch with the Royal Marines in the Falklands. I recommended listening only. It is suicide to transmit, especially since I have eluded the Argentines since leaving South Georgia.
The Argentines have announced internally they will invade the Falklands at 06.00 tomorrow. Some Naval exercise this turned out to be. It may still be some form of bluff, but I doubt it. They’re not to be underestimated these bastards, particularly when their hand is on the trigger.
The Press say an SSN and Exeter are on the way, but this may be a controlled leak. Fort Austin has been diverted, so has a tanker. I long to get stuck into this situation, but may be hidebound by rules of engagement, or the positioning of Argentine forces. It’s all been bloody frustrating.
Signals during the night were thick and fast starting with a clear indication of D-Day and H-Hour – 06.00 on the 2nd. Although the invasion had been planned for the 2nd for some time, no one knew it would be timed for first light.
The initial signals from Sir Anthony Parsons, British Ambassador at the United Nations, were pathetic as in fact most of the diplomatic exchanges have been. Where did we find such weak-willed diplomats? My predicament is a direct result. Argentine threat assessment thinks we are still at Gritvyken, so at least we’ve hoodwinked them. That part at least is satisfying.
Meanwhile Lord Carrington had sent a message to the Governor of the Falklands informing him of the request for American intervention. Then he dumped any action – and its potential consequences – into Rex’s lap.
At this stage Ambassador Parsons was still making placatory noises and virtually refusing to acknowledge that the threat was real. Days later, when he was finally convinced that the situation was serious, he began to become an important player in the diplomatic game. I wrote in my report:
The odds of one ice patrol ship armed with AS 12 missiles, and by now without most of her small arms, against the might of the Argentine fleet was daunting, but my aim was to go for the Argentine fleet oiler, Punta Mendanos, which was reported to be in the vicinity of Beauchene Island. I felt that if I could knock out the oiler, the consequent threat posed by the very thirsty old ex-American destroyers would be reduced considerably.
I talked to my officers. I felt instinctively it was better to get back to South Georgia before it was too late to support the Royal Marine detachment. We also hoped to evacuate the scientists and to attack the Bahia Paraiso, and hopefully one or both of the corvettes.
On 1 April the ship was ordered back to South Georgia and at best speed. I made for the south-east corner of the island. This was because we had a report that two corvettes, two destroyers, a submarine and a tanker were heading for South Georgia; the assumption was they would make their approach from the north. By using the cover of the icebergs to the south and hugging the coastline I knew well it should be possible to escape detection before arriving back in the vicinity of Grytviken.
2 April, my diary:
D-Day finds Endurance nearly halfway between South Georgia and the Falklands. Despite my request to return to South Georgia knowing that Grytviken would be invaded, I was at first told to continue towards Stanley. Happily that decision was later reversed but I fear we have lost precious time. Signals poured through all night. Stanley went off the air at 05.45 saying that Government House had surrendered. It was defended at the time by Royal Marines and Endurance’s sailors. At 08.15 it was confirmed by one of the BAS radio operators that Stanley had been captured. Happily there appear to be only three casualties – all Argentine. One Argentine officer is dead. Two thousand troops were landed by the Argentines. Of course it is being hailed as a great Naval victory. If so then this mighty victory was against one enemy ship which was virtually unarmed and hundreds of miles away at the time. The Argentine line is that they have recaptured the Malvinas, South Georgia etc. But we know they have not yet tried to capture South Georgia. The opposition is Bahia Paraiso and a corvette. I believe I can deal with them.
We received a transcript of a message from Port Stanley:
Old and new fighters buzzing all around and a lot of transport aircraft movements. There are heavy, probably amphibious, vehicles moving around the streets, driving on the left, apparently taking the fences and hedges with them as they manoeuvre round corners. A few houses have been riddled with bullets and one or two buildings have lost their water supply as a result of mortar fire. It appears that the Kelpers [nickname for the Islanders] are attempting to move their children away from Stanley and get them to the West Island. Argentines are starving the population of any world news. As soon as any Kelper put the World Service News on the box it was turned off by the Argentines. This starvation has not helped the situation and the Islanders feel particularly helpless. They think there are grey ships on the way and three nuclear subs which will blast the Argentines away from the Falklands.
The message came from one of the radio hams. Most of our interceptions of Argentine messages came from Naval sources including an amphibious group. They had been passed back to Cheltenham.
Since we were keeping silence, I had not been talking directly to Rex Hunt, but asked that messages from the Invasion Force be relayed. I was later horrified to learn that the first Rex had actually heard of the Invasion Force was at 15.30 local time on Thursday, 1 April. He had been aware that the Argentine Fleet was putting to sea, but had been misled by the Buenos Aires Embassy who still appeared to believe that the Argentines were at sea for anti-submarine exercises with the Uruguayans. He had not even been told that the Argentines had subsequently sailed one or more amphibious ships, or that a full battalion of Marines had been seen embarking with armoured personnel carriers.
Like most of his ex-colonial service contemporaries, Rex Hunt was a pragmatist. He believed that some of the Argentines would proceed to South Georgia and that was why for the time being we were necessarily out of touch. We had intercepted the signals about the amphibious force but were unable to pass the information directly to him. We could listen but hardly dared to speak. We had to assume that his own channels of communication would keep him informed. All we could offer were our prayers.
The awareness of our diplomats – or rather the lack of it – in Argentina is summed up by a story told in my television film ‘War Stories’. Sir Frederick Bennett, who was for many years the Conservative MP for Torbay, is an acknowledged expert on South American countries and a distinguished barrister from Lincoln’s Inn. Shortly before the invasion of the Falklands he had been invited to Chile and subsequently to Argentina. He flew out to Chile via Buenos Aires approximately two days before the invasion and he describes how the passengers were prevented from looking out of the windows as his aircraft put down on a military airfield close to the Andes.
I didn’t pull my window blind fully down because I wanted to see what was outside. I looked out – and I know war when I see it. I could see a lot of army vehicles being manoeuvred about near the edge of the tarmac and I wondered where they were heading, or was this just an exercise?
The aircraft flew on to Santiago, Chile, where he was a guest of Mr Heath, our Ambassador. Naturally he asked him what was going on. The Ambassador said to him: ‘Sir Frederick, I wish you to complete your engagements here in Chile and then I would suggest you fly home again. You ought not to go to Argentina tomorrow to make a speech at the lunch in Buenos Aires. We shall be at war by then.’
‘Wha
t war is that?’ he asked.
The Argentines are on their way to invade the Falklands.’
Sir Frederick picked up the telephone and rang Anthony Williams to explain why it would be imprudent to make his visit.
‘I’ve been advised not to come,’ he said, ‘because I understand we’re going to be at war.’
Allegedly Williams replied, ‘What war?’ He even went on to suggest that failure to fulfil the commitment could give cause for offence.
Sir Freddy was somewhat bemused with the mixed signals he was receiving. But if the British Ambassador in Argentina believed everything was OK then there was really no reason for cancelling his visit. However, before leaving for the airport at 06.30 the following morning he was surprised to receive another call.
‘I’m sorry Sir Frederick,’ said Anthony Williams, ‘but I don’t think you should come over today. It appears, after all, that we are at war with Argentina. They have just begun invading the Falklands.’
Sir Rex Hunt later wrote:
‘Not mentioned in the telegrams is the crucial information that in the early evening, Mr Nott, then Secretary of State for Defence, had been briefed by the MOD officials on the latest intelligence report, presumably originating from Endurance. This indicated that the early morning of the second of April had been set by the Argentines as a time and day for action. Taken with earlier intelligence reports analysts had presumed that the action intended was an invasion of the Falkland Islands. The FCO had also seen these reports. But we were in ignorance of what was to befall us. Mavis and I had hosted a party that very evening.…
April 1 began the same as any other. My early morning schedule with Steve Martin was uneventful. He could not tell me over the radio that Endurance had sailed and there was nothing from Nick because he was maintaining radio silence. Telegrams arrived from London during the morning via New York, but nothing about the invasion on the 2nd. Bill Luxton flew in from Cap Chartres and called to see me. I explained the gravity of the situation, but could not forecast what might happen.
Rex returned to his office until about 15.30 when the fateful telegram arrived. Couched in typically FCO language it read:
We have apparently reliable evidence that an Argentine task force will gather off Cape Pembroke early tomorrow morning, April 2nd. You will wish to make your dispositions accordingly.
Brian Wills, cast in the role of bearer of bad tidings, put the telegram on his desk and added, They might have said, “Goodbye and the best of British”.’
Rex made a quick calculation. He had 15–16 hours at the most to make whatever dispositions he could. He was fortunate in having sixty-nine Royal Marines available – the forty-three of the new detachment plus the twenty-six of the old. He also had the twelve hydrographers from Endurance who, though primarily trained to hold a mapping pen, could doubtless also be relied on to fire a weapon. In addition there was the Falkland Island Defence Force.
Meanwhile, in Endurance we were still fighting against the heavy south-westerly swell whilst painting our helicopters khaki to camouflage them against the Falkland hills.
The attack on the Falklands began at 04.30 local time when the Argentine assault force went ashore in the vicinity of Mullet Creek. The main attack was to be an hour and a half later at York Bay where personnel carriers were landed to move along the airport road towards Stanley. The leading vehicle was struck by a Carl Gustav missile fired by the defending Royal Marines and the crews of the remaining vehicles disembarked.
Lieutenant Chris Todhunter, our hydrographer, was detailed to keep guard on some Argentine contractors in the town hall. The rest of the survey team operated an information service in Government House until they joined in the active defence of the building. After four hours of fighting the Governor declared a surrender and the British flag was lowered. The survey party was flown home from Uruguay with the Governor, his wife, the Royal Marines and Naval party 8901. We lost communications on the London-Stanley link, but the BAS base at Signy confirmed via Grytviken that no civilians had been injured, though some Argentines were in hospital.
The new Argentine Military Governor began issuing communiqués to the Islanders. I was asked to transmit a message to them from the Director of BAS at Cambridge to the base at Grytviken, but decided against as this meant breaking HF silence. The priority simply had to be the survival of my ship. However, I asked the MOD to pass the Director’s message to the other bases by telex and then it would be relayed to South Georgia.
On 2 April at 05.00 I lost all contact with Port Stanley and expected to lose contact with South Georgia soon afterwards. Throughout the day world news bulletins referred to the Argentine proclamations of a great Naval victory. Although this was a considerable exaggeration, it was nevertheless humiliating.
We now had to formulate our ideas for dealing with the enemy action at Grytviken. With the ship pounding back to South Georgia, the situation ashore was beginning to hot up. Hearing about the invasion, the Royal Marines at Grytviken set about preparing their defences. They placed two troops on the Jason Ridge to observe activities. The main base also learned that the Bahia Paraiso was at anchor at Leith and a corvette was heading into Stromness Bay.
We made contact with the garrison using the prepared code and informed them that Endurance would be in the vicinity by 15.00 the next day, 3 April. However, at 10.30 we picked up the Argentine side of a VHF call from Bahia Paraiso to the South Georgia garrison:
Following our successful operation in the Malvinas Islands, the ex-Governor has surrendered the Islands and dependencies to Argentina. We suggest you adopt a similar course of action to prevent any further loss of life.
In an attempt to gain time, Keith Mills asked for clarification. He was not reading back the message on HF so that Endurance could hear. He further asked for time to consider the request. He was given five minutes.
The next message from Bahia Paraiso was a demand that all base personnel assemble on the beach. I broke in with instructions to the Base Commander to wait until I had asked London for their intentions.
I spoke to the MOD Duty Commander and the Assistant Chief of Naval Staff Operations. There was no ‘answer’ from them other than to confirm that I was not to help unless provoked. Only then could I engage with AS 12 missiles. I felt rather like a prize fighter under instruction to take the blows for a couple of rounds so that somebody could get better odds with the bookie. Of course they were anxious to keep the whole Argentine Navy off our backs by avoiding unnecessary provocation. From where we were standing an invasion of the Falklands and South Georgia seemed sufficient cause to invite us to do what damage we could. But this was largely academic. We had been warned off having a pop at Argentine ships and, because of the order to return to Stanley, were still frustratingly out of useful range of South Georgia.
Then came another surprise. I was concerned to hear there would be a delay in sending Naval forces from Gibraltar, or perhaps further north, to the area. We really were being left to stew without even the satisfaction of aiming one good kick at the enemy’s shins. Meanwhile I was expected to maintain a dignified calm.
My safety valve was my diary. I wrote: ‘This is an operation – not a fucking exercise! British lives and possessions are at stake. The Argentines will ignore our diplomats until they speak with strength and that means military might on the station.’
3 April was the day when the feeling of impotence hit hardest. I hated what I had to do only slightly less than I despised those who had brought about this situation. In the most matter of fact way I had to pass on instructions to Keith Mills about defending the base. Like a hangman I could not permit any emotion to be heard in my voice. I repeated his rules of engagement and informed him he would not be required to continue the fighting if lives would be lost unnecessarily. I told him that his key rôle was to make it be seen that the Argentines took South Georgia by force. Other signals followed as I clarified the situation with the Base Commander. Then I was forced to silence again. We were m
ost fearful for Keith and our marines. The situation they faced was untenable. Their lives depended on an honourable adversary and the common sense to know when to admit defeat.
When you join the armed services you accept the risks. But you do not expect to fight, and perhaps die, on some Godforsaken windswept mountainside just about as far from home as you can get. At this moment South Georgia seemed unimportant, an irrelevance. What could Argentina do with it anyway?
Endurance was pretty well stretched by now. With the dozen of the survey party left behind in the Falklands, and full Marine platoon ashore in South Georgia we really had just ourselves, our flight, and our couple of 20 mm pea shooters. There was also an ominous silence from Grytviken. All the BAS stations were on net, but Grytviken said nothing. We knew that the battle had begun.
We heard the details of what happened much later. First the Argentine corvette Guerrico rounded the point and headed into the cove off the BAS base, while a helicopter, which could have come from either ship, reconnoitred overhead. The Bahia Paraiso was then informed that there was a British military presence and that any attempt to land would be repulsed. Having completed his task, the Base Commander, Steve Martin, withdrew to the civilian sanctuary of the Norwegian whaling church.
Lieutenant Keith Mills moved down towards the jetty at King Edward Point. His intention was to talk to the Argentine landing party which he assumed would arrive. But as the corvette turned and headed back out into East Cumberland Bay Keith was surprised by an Argentine helicopter disgorging marines close to him. As the Argentines took up positions of cover, one of the marines raised his rifle. Keith withdrew as fast as possible to a defensive position.
Beyond Endurance: An Epic of Whitehall and the South Atlantic Page 19
