The Journey Down
In May 1982, my commanding officer unexpectedly asked me if I would like to go on an all expenses paid luxury cruise to the Falkland Islands, attached to the HQ element of 5th Infantry Brigade, aboard the grandest liner afloat: Queen Elizabeth II. The reason I had scooped one of the ‘Golden tickets’ to the only war my generation of peacetime soldiers was likely to see was that two troops from B Squadron of The Blues and Royals – each comprising two Scorpions with 76mm guns and 7.62mm GPMGs and two Scimitars with 30mm quick firing Rarden cannons – which joined 3 Commando Brigade on the first wave were ‘only’ commanded by two lieutenant troop leaders
Suffice to say, the QEII on 12 May was everything she was cracked up to be, although it doubtless helped that I was allocated a full on stateroom, complete with private balcony and all-important fridge for cocktails in the tropics. The only bluebottle in the luxury dining room; 11,000 seriously pissed off and heavily armed Argentines awaiting us with Welcome Mats (not) at the other end.
By Day 2 on board I was so surprised by the lack of activity and urgency in the HQ that I started writing a diary, recording my observations and increasing frustrations. Worse, and all part of the malaise as I saw it, nobody in the headquarters was interested in hearing a talk I prepared about how best to use our armoured cars. They said they were interested, but nobody ever had the time to listen; not surprising I concluded for an HQ that had turned down an extra two troops as being too much trouble. And, in line with this mindset, I became so alarmed that I decided that these folk were more than capable of getting me killed, so I doubled my daily run around the ship’s decks from once to twice a day. My fellow watchkeepers felt I was being unduly alarmist, but very useful it proved too when I ended up joining 2 Para.
Wireless Ridge
The attack on Stanley, including Wireless Ridge. Credit: Creative Commons.
Falklands, 12 June. We were at the ‘Any questions’ stage of the O Group detailing our attack on Wireless Ridge (to the north of Port Stanley) when it was suddenly called off. Fortunately. We discovered next day that our designated Start Line was in fact an Argentine position. 13 June; we had our second O Group. We would attack that night. The Blues and Royals would sit on the ridge lines and fire in the Paras, softening up the enemy positions in conjunction with our Artillery and then provide very direct support when the latter had to stop; co-ordinating that was my job.
The Troop moved out before last night. Callsign 23 spotted an armoured vehicle. “Could he fire?” 2 Para agreed. Two rounds fired. A freak snowstorm intervened. That sums up the weather.
The attack started on some features leading to the main part of Wireless Ridge. The Troop blasted Argentinian positions using their night sight capability. At this moment it came over the air that L/CoH Dunkeley, the commander of a Scimitar, had been knocked unconscious. The CO of 2 Para accepted my offer to take command of the vehicle.
It was a bright moonlit night, with a deep, deep frost as we moved back to the battle – quite eerie with the distant chatter of machine guns and bursting illuminants. The only movement was that of small groups of stretcher bearers, dark against the white carpet, carrying their loads. Exhausted, they put down their stretchers to exchange a brief word of greeting as we passed. It was as one imagined a First World War battlefield, not one of the 1980s. The constant whine of artillery shells, the harsh back drop, small groups of men huddled together for shelter and warmth, others moving gently forward for the next attack. Modern technology was not apparent on Wireless Ridge.
We moved from the ridge line to join the ongoing shoot onto the main part of Wireless Ridge. We used our HE (High Explosive) and APSE (Armour Piercing Secondary Effect) rounds, but kept our newly issued ‘solid’ depleted uranium rounds back for when we met the Argentinean Panhard armoured cars with their 90mm cannons.
“D” Company, 2 Para, successfully attacked the Ridge and suffered few casualties. We had them on the run. Daybreak, after a brief ammo replenishment, saw us moving on Stanley, from ridge line to ridge line. Morale was sky high after the previous night, although we knew that we were going to have to face those Panhards and their much larger guns. And in daylight. And then it was all over; the Argentineans had surrendered. Our initial reaction was one of disappointment, adrenalin was flowing, we were looking forward to a really good punch up, followed moments later by an immense surge of relief and delight. We were going to live.
With the Milan Platoon loaded onto our vehicles the dash for Stanley began, c/s 23A proudly flying The Blues and Royals flag. We reached the War Memorial on the outskirts, in the lead by now. We were told to stop. I hoisted the Union Jack from the antenna of my vehicle, 23B, and we waited. One by one the heads disappeared, the hatches closed, the Troop slept, exhausted, drained, woken only by the chill of a late afternoon and a feeling of great anti-climax. It really was war over.
I’ll let General Frost describe the impact of 3 Troop, The Blues and Royals on the Battle of Wireless Ridge. “If any particular group deserves special praise for what was done that night, then it must be the tanks of The Blues and Royals. Their mere presence had been a remarkable boost to morale during all the attacks that had taken place, and the speed and accuracy of their fire, matched by their ability to keep up with the advancing Paras, had been a severe shock to the enemy.”
Or, to put it another way, we Blues and Royals got nothing but smiles from 2 Para from there on in.
Roger Field’s memoir, Scimitar Into Stanley; One Soldier’s Falklands War was published by Pen and Sword.
