Defending the Falklands: Part II
In this second of a three-part series, the British Marines respond to threats against South Georgia and receive disturbing reports from home
Mike Jones continues his series on the outbreak of the 1982 conflict
Early on the evening of Monday 29 March 1982 the new Naval Party 8901 (the Royal Marine Falklands garrison) sailed through the Narrows and into Stanley Harbour. Ahead was Stanley itself, the Falklands’ capital, with its brightly coloured houses clustered around the harbour jetty. For the Marines it formed a picture-postcard scene. The tiny settlement of just over a thousand inhabitants occupied an area about half a mile long. “The streets were clean and tidy,” remembered Corporal Jim Fairfield. “And it was the sense of silence that struck me the most. There were no car horns, no sirens – just a near total silence.” That silence was about to be rudely shattered.
Arrival
Marine Gary Williams was one of the new detachment. “As we approached Stanley the weather was fine,” Williams recalled. “There was a crowd of people waiting for us to dock at the government jetty, at the rear of the town hall. Then we were taken off to Moody Brook [the Royal Marines Barracks] where we were allocated our rooms and started to settle in.” Detachment Quartermaster Sergeant Bill Aspinall added, “NP 8901 landed in conditions of total calm. We still had no real evidence that an invasion was imminent. Subsequently I phoned my wife, back in the United Kingdom, who was worried by the reports on the Falklands in the national press. ‘There are no problems here,’ I reassured her – and I meant it.”
But later that evening, as the new Naval Party’s commander, Major Mike Norman, sat chatting with his predecessor, Major Gary Noott, a rather different picture began to emerge. After an exchange of pleasantries and talk about the hand-over of command, the two men turned to the situation between Britain and Argentina. Mike Norman gave a recap of the final briefing he received from the Foreign Office, Argentina would be unlikely to take any military action and would instead ramp up the economic pressure. “Yes, I was told much the same thing,” Gary Noott replied. “They said there might be a lot of shouting on the diplomatic front – but not much else.” And then he opened up about his real concerns.
Just over three weeks earlier, on 7 March 1982, an Argentinian Hercules transport aircraft had made an unauthorised landing at Stanley’s Airport. The Argentinians claimed that it was an in-flight emergency involving a fuel leak, but no evidence of this was found when the plane was inspected. Noott was blunt, “The aircraft arrived without any formal warning, the control tower was not manned, because it was a Sunday, and if it was not for a local radio operator, who picked up on the plane’s approach, it could have landed before anyone got out to the airport. As it was, there was just enough time for some armed Marines to drive out there first.”
He leaned over towards Norman and added, “Mike, we saw that the Argentinians on board were wearing personal weapons in shoulder holsters. I brought up our entire force as
reinforcement and put snipers all around the runway. The Hercules eventually took off again but over-flight by the Argentine military are now a frequent topic of conversation, the incident has given everybody the jitters.”
In turn Mike Norman spoke about the John Biscoe being ‘buzzed’ by another Argentine Hercules on their voyage to Stanley. He felt a sense of unease. And Noott’s section was now understrength because of a problem on one of the Falklands’ dependencies, South Georgia – some 800 miles to the southeast.
South Georgia
South Georgia was an extraordinary place.
Huge glaciers, ice caps and snow-fields covered about three quarters of its surface in the austral summer (November to January); in winter (July to September) a snow blanket reached right down to the sea. The British Antarctic Survey maintained a small presence at an abandoned whaling station, Grytviken, and close by was the last resting place of Sir Ernest Shackleton. The beaches were host to a multitude of seals and sea lions. But growing political tensions were about to intrude on this remarkable environment.
On 11 March 1982 the Foreign Office approved a request by Argentine workers led by Constantine Davidoff to remove scrap metal from another of South Georgia’s disused whaling stations, at Leith – disregarding the strong concerns of the Falklands Governor,
Rex Hunt, who felt Davidoff was untrustworthy. Hunt’s fears were justified. On 19 March Davidoff landed at Leith and immediately ran up the Argentine flag.
The following day HMS Endurance (the Falklands gunship, which under the Defence Review cuts was to be decommissioned at the end of its tour of service in April) was sent from Stanley to sort things out. It carried its full complement of 13 Marines and nine more men from Gary Noott’s detachment.
The original orders were to remove Davidoff’s party by force. Then the Foreign Office changed its mind. The Argentines were now only to be put ‘under observation’. On 29 March Endurance, with its two Wasp helicopters, Oerlikon guns, radio signalling equipment and 22 Royal Marines was still at South Georgia. Neither Gary Noott nor Mike Norman had any idea how long it would be staying there.
There was clearly something wrong, but the next day, Tuesday 30 March, was strangely quiet. That morning Norman and Noott went to visit the Governor, Rex Hunt. An official photographer captured the scene. As Hunt later wrote, “It was a happy, carefree occasion, with Gary in distinctly end-of-tour mood and Mike looking forward to a year of outdoor activity.” His command would begin on 1 April.
The commander of Naval Party 8901 was expected to play a full part in the genteel social life of Stanley. A round of social engagements was being drawn up for Major Norman, with a drinks or dinner party every evening of the week. “That day, it was still hard to grasp the reality of military action,” Mike Norman recalled.
However, in Britain, Whitehall was already picking up intelligence about a likely Argentine invasion. On 29 March, the day that the new Naval Party 8901 arrived on the Falklands, the Secretary of State for Defence, John Nott, in consultation with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and Foreign Secretary Lord Carrington, decided to dispatch a nuclear-powered submarine (HMS Spartan). It would arrive in the vicinity of the Falkland Islands on 13 April. On the same day measures were taken to reinforce the garrison at Stanley. It was agreed that it “should now be maintained at twice its existing strength”, and that Major Noott’s section would serve for an additional two months. However, this vital information was not passed on to the Falklands.
The communications failure
The Falkland Islands were being instructed by two different government departments (the Ministry of Defence and the Foreign Office), departments which held differing views and had fallen out over the role of Endurance (the Foreign Office argued strongly for its retention). Rex Hunt was copied in to some telegrams but not others – often because one department assumed the other had done it. There was a lack of overall direction. And the transmission system left much to be desired. Atmospheric conditions could disrupt communications or in some instances cut them off altogether.
At 10.15pm GMT (6.15pm Falklands Time) on Wednesday 31 March Lord Carrington sent a crucial telegram to Governor Rex Hunt, “For your information and that of the commander of the Royal Marines detachment only. You should know that we are concerned about Argentine preparations for the assembling of a seaborne force which could be used to invade
“THERE WERE NO CAR HORNS, NO SIRENS – JUST A NEAR TOTAL SILENCE. THAT SILENCE WAS ABOUT TO BE RUDELY SHATTERED”
the Falklands. Current evidence suggests that this could occur in the next two or three days … It seems prudent to review our current contingency plans … We shall, of course, keep you closely in touch with developments.”
This vital communication never reached Stanley. Rex Hunt recalled, “In blissful ignorance of what was about to befall us, we hosted a dinner party.”
Defence plans
At 9.00am on 1 April, Falklands Time, Major Mike Norman took command of Naval Party 8901. He had at his disposal a force of 69 Marines and ten Naval Hydrographers.
It was a fine, clear day. Norman wanted to get a sense of the terrain, and went with Noott to look at beaches that might be used in the event of an Argentine landing. On 31 March a garbled message had come through about an Argentine submarine carrying out overt reconnaissance. He then went to the lighthouse on Cape Pembroke, where a section of Marines had been put on observation duty. At 2.25pm an urgent message came through from Rex Hunt. When he got back to Government House in Stanley, just over half an hour later, Norman was shown the telegram from Whitehall stating that an Argentine invasion was expected the following morning. It closed with the stark sentence, “You will wish to make your dispositions accordingly.”
Much could be said about that phrase.
Before taking up the post, Mike Norman had been unable to find any national contingency plan to deal with an Argentine attack. An internal Foreign Office memorandum acknowledged that “there was confusion in the MOD about the role of the Royal Marines in the event of an invasion of the Falkland Islands”. The buck was then passed to the Marines’ commander, whom the FO hoped “would have a clear idea of his responsibilities”, without offering him any further guidance on what those responsibilities actually were.
Mike Norman was then left with the local plan, drawn up by his predecessor Gary Noott and signed off by Rex Hunt. This envisaged the Marines making an initial defence of the Falklands’ capital, and then retreating into the surrounding countryside, taking the governor with them. But Hunt suddenly changed his mind, countermanding what had already been put in place, and declaring that he intended to remain in Stanley. Further obstacles were thrown in Norman’s way. He found that he was unable to communicate directly with the local militia, the Falkland Islands Defence Force, or place it under his own command. Nor was he able to requisition explosives to destroy the airfield.
Everything was happening so quickly.
Norman and Noott drove back to Moody Brook and gathered the Royal Marines. Everyone listened in shocked disbelief. A rolling system of defence was set out, in which the Marines would fight, section by section, from the likely landing beaches and airport back to Government House. At best it would delay the assault and perhaps buy a little time for negotiations. But it would pit a small force of about 70 against two battalions of Argentinian troops (around 1,400 men), in armoured tracked amphibious vehicles (Amtracks), supported by a company of Special Forces, odds of something like 25:1 in favour of the Argentines. The Falklands garrison had been abandoned to its fate.
“I HAD TO GIVE CONVINCING ORDERS TO MEN WHOM I KNEW HAD NO CHANCE OF WINNING AND WERE VERY LIKELY GOING TO DIE”
The final briefing
Before last light the Marines spent a couple of hours erecting makeshift defences. And then they all returned to Moody Brook for their final instructions. “It was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life’, Mike Norman remembered. “I had to give convincing orders to men whom I knew had no chance of winning and were very likely going to die.”
Corporal Nick Williams said, “I will never forget the expressions on the faces of those around me. The enormity of it all was sinking in – it was a death sentence.”
Norman concluded, “We are going to be totally outnumbered – and tomorrow you will be fighting for yourselves and each other.” Simple professional pride kicked in. At the end there was a moment of complete silence – and then everyone applauded. Someone struck up the Monty Python song Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life – and all the Royal Marines went on their way, carrying as much military equipment as they could. The defence of the Falklands was about to begin.