Hugh McManners - Falklands Commando

Returning to Intrepid in the LCM, the wind suddenly got up and waves broke over the bow, drenching us. Soaking wet, I went from the fume-laden darkness of the dock to the AOR to check out what was going on.

Up in the nerve-centre of the ship, just below the bridge, the gaunt steel bulkheads of ‘senior officer territory’ are poshed-up with polished oak handrails and brass fittings. The narrow passage to the AOR, normally ‘bumpered’ to shine like glass, was littered with hooded sailors lying on the floor at their action station, drinking tea and reading books or dog-eared old newspapers. With apologies, I stepped over them and entered the AOR.

The map display showed chinagraph arrows of 2 Para’s attack on Darwin and Goose Green, which had started the night before. The radios were blasting out crackles and sometimes unintelligible transmissions, to which everyone was riveted. The Paras were under Argie artillery and mortar fire. Since dawn, on green, open moorland, they’d been tied down by the enemy’s longer range medium machine-guns.

When I asked what was happening, somebody tersely replied, “We’re losing the war.”

The land operation was slipping into potential disaster. Every day Canberra escaped being sunk by what seemed a string of miracles. The attack on Darwin was the first test of our enemy, which we had to win in order to ‘encourage’ the rest to surrender when the time was ripe. A failure by the Paras, our ‘mailed fist’, some twenty miles south, would be catastrophic.

Then came the message “Sunray down”, indicating that the Paras’ CO, Colonel ‘H’ Jones, had been killed. The Staff carried on with their work, the atmosphere in the AOR stuffy, tired and sombre. I sat in the corner for a while, making muddy puddles on the linoleum.

But then something extraordinary started happening, to the south of our anchorage. Jones’ death – and perhaps the fear of failure – seemed to galvanise the battalion. 2 Para’s highly-experienced company commanders and their second-in-command Chris Keeble summoned up the formidable fighting power of their soldiers, then, with a relentless momentum, rolled up the Argentine defensive positions to close on the settlement.

Before last light, 148 Battery’s Captain Kevin Arnold, the calm, reflective boss of FO5, directed an air strike of three Harriers onto the eastern end of the Goose Green Peninsula. This was a deliberate, very threatening demonstration of fire-power directed at anti-aircraft cannon and gun positions. FO5 spent an exposed, uneasy and very cold night amid smouldering gorse grass.

Early the next day (29 May), the enemy asked for a formal surrender, at which they demanded an officer of equivalent rank to their commander attend a formal parade. Their insistence on a formal parade seemed bizarre and ludicrous. Nick Allin said a lance-bombardier would probably suffice.

The importance of this victory cannot be over-stated. If the Paras had taken a hammering with heavy casualties, or even needed to be reinforced to take their objectives, our morale – mine certainly – would have suffered a very severe blow. We believed that the enemy’s morale would have received a reciprocal boost.

At dawn, the Para’s attack had bogged down, its vital sense of momentum blunted into a stalemate as the Argentine defenders were able to use the daylight to engage the lightly-armed paratroopers with their longer range direct-fire weapons in the clear air over very open ground. They had heavy machineguns, which out-ranged everything the Paras had. ‘H’ Jones’ single-handed attack succeeded in breaking this stalemate – a sacrifice that rightly earned him the Victoria Cross.

This very near disaster was the result of the Paras being greatly outnumbered, but much more because of an inadequate allocation of the fire support upon which such a fast-moving, lightly-equipped attack always depends. Their gun ship HMS Arrow could not remain on station beyond daybreak because of the risk of air attack, but also suffered a malfunction. At daybreak on 28 May, the attack was left with only the battalion’s own mortars, whose explosive force was mostly absorbed by the soft peat, and just three 105mm Light Guns – a single troop from 8 (Alma) Commando Light Battery, my old unit. With insufficient helicopters available to fly more guns and ammunition south to support the attack, the Paras were on their own.

‘H’ Jones knew full well the importance of his attack succeeding, which was why, in the traditions of the Parachute Regiment, he was up front in the battle, where he could have the most influence. His decision to take out the machine-gun position would have been made in this context with a very clear idea of the risks involved. He would also have been sure that his battalion would carry on regardless of what happened to him. His self-sacrifice was an action of the moment, taken deliberately and for the good of the entire land operation, by a very brave man.

Packing for Operation Brewers Arms involved a lot of kit: ten days’ ammo and food in our bergens, plus a further seven days’ worth carried in sandbags, to be buried in a cache once we got ashore. This cache also contained a very large ammunition resupply. We were expecting quite a lot of ‘business,’ and would not be resupplied.

Our task appeared simple: clearing the enemy from a very large amount of real estate, without tying down units from 3 Commando Brigade. SF patrols had been in the area before the landings, noting regular enemy activity.

We were to land in troop strength: about twenty of us, consisting of three SB teams plus FO1 and a small HQ, then establish ourselves in the Volunteer Lagoon area. This meant digging in to make underground hides, bury and ‘cam’ out the cache, then send out patrols to locate the enemy. Once the enemy positions were located, we were to attack and eliminate them, using NGS (Naval Gunfire Support) to compensate for our lack of numbers. These attacks would have to be done at night as the gunships couldn’t leave the safety of the air-defence screen around the Hermes-Invincible group until after dark. The Chatelaine (thermal imager) was also to be taken along.

Our insertion proved unexpectedly exciting.

We were to be taken out to the Hermes group in its holding position to the north-east by Plymouth , then fly across to Avenger which would steam south until near enough to fly us into the LS (Landing Site). Previous patrolling had shown the surf in the area to be too rough and unpredictable for us to use our boats, so the ship’s Lynx helicopter was going to have to make several trips.

However, once we’d struggled from Intrepid to Plymouth by landing-craft, been steamed out to the fleet which was lying 100 miles or so north of East Falkland, and cross-decked on to Avenger, we’d run out of darkness. My time appreciation gave us only 30 minutes to dig in the cache and hide ourselves away before first light – which was not acceptable.

I knew the Captain of Avenger Hugo White, from the previous Christmas whilst in Belize doing NGS firing. I’d spent several weeks with the ship sailing round the Caribbean, culminating in a memorable visit to New Orleans, and had much enjoyed their company. It was very good to see them again. Hugo White was the archetypical heroic pirate captain, completely relaxed and friendly, never put out, amused and amusing, and always the complete professional. I’d lurked on the bridge as we’d steamed overnight from the Gulf of Mexico up the final meanders of the Mississippi River through Bell Chasse, Meraux and Marrero, to our US Navy dockside berth in the centre of the city.

But slow-moving tankers were blocking our route, endangering the timetable by which we were to cross the line between the US Admiral’s office and our berth at 0900 local time next morning. As I was to see, this deadline was taken very seriously indeed.