JUNE 14th 1982, Argentina surrenders on the Falkland Islands.

Remembering all, no matter the cap badge, no matter the side.

Forty one years later, I sit in my garden and think quietly about those taken so young…from both sides of the conflict. After all, we were ALL sent by politicians simply because they and their diplomats had failed in negotiations…some at the time were secret negotiations involving third party countries.

“Ours is not to reason why…ours is but to do or die.“

The war was not a legal war under International law…and that is crucial to my wee part played in the latter stages.

The SAS had a disaster on it’s hands by simply cross decking troops from ship to shore by helicopter. The last lift of the day crashed into the sea killing and injuring lads from D and G Squadrons along with their attachments. Mates no longer with us, some still very young and others a bit older with a wealth of SAS experience.

So, for those still alive and kicking from all arms who took part in the conflict…where were you when the Argies surrendered?

For me, it was an extremely strange affair.

We had trained in the UK for an Entebbe type raid firstly on Stanley Airfield on the Falkland Islands, then that later changed to an Airfield on the Argentine mainland…2 x C130s with strike vehicles and men. A small team were sent to the mainland to recce and become the eyes and ears for the squadron to strike.

The war was going badly, and it was imperative that we take out the aircraft that were sinking our ships. The small team were compromised on their route in along the Chile/Argentina border infiltrating by helicopter, so as well known today, they landed in Chile, where the crew burnt out the helicopter and the team moved on foot eventually to a safe RV.

This is where we came in. The squadron’s Entebbe type mission to land 2 x C130s having been scrubbed due to senior officers being told time and time again that the Argentines had ground to air missiles that could take us out long before we approach the runway, then went onto yet another hairbrained scheme.

Eight of us would land from a submarine onto the mainland (thus becoming the smallest invasion force in modern military history), by using two engine powered inflatable craft coxwained by 2 x SBS lads.

We parachuted into the South Atlantic off the shores of the Falkland Islands, having flown down in a single C130 after 2 air refuelings. We were picked up by HMS Andromeda and taken to several other ships where we undertook a handful of operations with D squadron. Once HMS Onyx, an old diesel “O” class submarine arrived off the Falklands, we did some beat up training in an operation environment until we were ready to go to Argentina (Much of this I’ve covered in past posts). Our mission was to take out their aircraft. My personal kit that I would carry was the heaviest of all my operations during my time in the SAS spanning almost 20 years.

We had the PMs permission to go. I always remember that given the huge task ahead of us, every member of the team was in the right frame of mind to give it our best shot.

We moved in off the coast of Argentina and lay on the bottom of the ocean awaiting the final go ahead.

The go ahead from Thatcher came…and the submarine moved in. We were extremely close to leaving the submarine when the captain was given the order to pull back as the Argentinians on the Falkland Islands had surrendered. The pull back was key, as we were not legally at war with Argentina as mentioned previously. If any of us had been killed or captured on the Argentinian mainland, there would have been hell to pay Internationally by UK Government.

We were gutted to a man…and even today while I know a whole lot more about the Argentine strengths on the ground…I still ponder with frustration as to just how successful we may have been.

My time in this short but bloody war was nothing to what many young men went through. Young infantrymen fixing bayonets…and using them! Young Navy ranks taking their last breath while fighting smoke and fire to save their sinking ship.

Even today, the rest of the world knows very little about this fearsome conflict.

It was this conflict that woke me up to just what knee jerk reactions the senior officers and politicians will come up with, when things aren’t going to plan. It woke me up to just how some senior officers will shit on others to try to turn their legacy into a positive one. It woke me up to just how much we trust one another at the lower ranks in our small yet vulnerable groupings.

But most of all, and especially after all these years, it woke me up to what an amazing military the UK had overall…Navy, Army and Air Force. Including those civilians who volunteered to support us down there.

The Argentinians were only 400 miles from home…we were 8000!

Since this conflict, I’ve drank Guinness with many an Argentinian at an International rugby competition. Immediately after the surrender when we returned to the Falklands on the submarine, I shook hands and shared brews with a good handful of Argentinian soldiers and their officers. During the conflict, our ship was being bombed by an Argentinian pilot who’s aircraft was hit and he ejected out into the sea. Having been picked up injured, he was brought back to our ship, and once on deck, the shivering and shaking pilot was saluted and applauded for his sheer bravery by the ships company…I was one of those applauding.

Today, we all know that those tiny Islands are not just about sheep and Islanders, but about the oil and gas rights to what is still yet to be exploited offshore. Before the conflict, the US tried hard to get both countries to share the spoils. Who knows why they didn’t. There are many thoughts as to why. Both countries going through economic hardships at the time, and both leaderships under threat from their respective populations. Time to go to war.

Whatever the reason…when you wear the uniform and the bell rings…we are there!

Here’s to those lost on both sides, here’s to lessons learnt…and here’s to only going to war when our shores are threatened.

Even 41 years later, older and immensely wiser…the Falkland Islands in my humble opinion are our shores.