After the Falklands had been retaken it was learnt in Buenos Aires that the reason why the Argentines had surrendered so meekly and so quickly, without a fight, was that senior Argentine officers had heard that Britain had dispatched its Special Forces to recapture South Georgia. They knew the game was up before one shot had been fired.
Now the SAS and the SBS were immediately switched to the Falkland Islands, for their expertise and efficiency would be needed as Britain speedily mounted its largest military operation since the Suez landings of 1956. Sixty-five warships, crammed with soldiers and Special Forces troops, supplies, weapons, tons of ammunition and everything required to carry out a successful major assault against a well-equipped and large enemy force, steamed to the South Atlantic at full speed.
United States Intelligence had reported that the Argentines were pouring more men, supplies and heavy weapons into Port Stanley. Though they had surrendered South Georgia without a fight, it seemed that they were determined to hang on to the far more important Falkland Islands.
As the large British force made its way towards the Falklands, men of the SBS were already on the islands reconnoitring potential landing sites for an invasion, watching Argentine forces preparing defences and relaying information about Argentine warships and transport planes which were sending in supplies to their troops.
There was one major problem in sending back information to the senior officers of the Task Force. Any radio link would be intercepted by the Argentine signals squad, revealing that the British already had troops on the islands. Knowing this, the SBS supplied all the intelligence by means of the much slower Morse Code. Sending complicated recce reports was impossible with Morse. In such cases SBS men had to be picked up by Sea King Mark 4 helicopters or taken off beaches by small boats, and then taken to a British warship offshore, where they explained the reports before being returned to the islands. Nonetheless, the system worked satisfactorily enough.
SBS recce teams of four men were dispatched to eight main areas surrounding Port Stanley, including San Carlos, Eagle Hill and Ajax Bay. Sometimes the SBS patrols had to hide out for two weeks at a stretch, surviving in ‘fox holes’ covered by turf while watching the Argentine forces.
They were receiving reports of the war from those mates returning from briefing sessions. In this was they heard of the sinking of the Argentine Belgrano; the Argentine Exocet missiles playing havoc with the Royal Navy ships; and the sinking of HMS Sheffield with the loss of twenty-one men.
One brilliant SBS operation involved eighteen soldiers of 2 SBS and 6 SBS, ordered to capture the Narwal, an Argentine fish-factory ship which was in the British exclusion zone around the Falklands. As the men were approaching the thirteen hundred-tonner in Sea King helicopters two Harrier jump jets roared overhead and bombed and strafed the ship. The Sea Kings hovered over the damaged ship, the men fast-roping down to the deck, guns at the ready. But the men on board the Narwal put up no fight and the SBS rescued all the crew, took possession of charts and operational orders from the Argentine naval headquarters, and then placed charges which exploded minutes after they had been airlifted from the deck. It was a classic mission.
But the real battle was yet to take place.
Days before the British troop landings, 2 SBS and 3 SBS, with an SAS mortar detachment, were choppered from the Antrim to San Carlos Bay armed with a new device never before used in combat, a thermal imager, which can pick up the presence of people simply from body-generated heat.
Around San Carlos the thermal imager picked up a signal revealing a company of some thirty Argentine soldiers in camouflage hiding out of view of the naked eye. The information was flashed back to the Antrim, which bombarded the area with its 4.5 inch guns. Then the Special Forces team went in as the Argentines opened up in an attempt to shoot the Royal Navy choppers out of the sky. Somehow they landed virtually unscathed. Using a loudhailer, a British officer called in Spanish for the Argentines to surrender, but they replied with machine-gun fire. The officer tried again, and this too was met with a burst of fire.
‘We’re going in’ were the only words the Special Forces men needed to hear and a plan of attack was quickly put into action. It was in fact a classic flanking movement, with some SBS keeping the Argentines busy firing from their positions while other SBS and SAS troops retreated under cover and then carried out a flanking movement before taking the enemy by surprise with withering bursts of fire from close range. Twelve Argentines were shot dead, three were wounded and nine were taken prisoner. That attack might well have saved the lives of many on board the British warships because the Argentines had been manning anti-tank guns and mortars covering the straits of San Carlos, into which the British warships were about to enter.
Under cover the SBS moved down to nearby Fanning Head, where they knew the Parachute Regiment would storm ashore at zero hour unseen by the sixty Argentine soldiers who were sheltering in houses in the Port San Carlos area. The landing went without a hitch and as soon as the Argentines saw the strength of the British invasion force they moved out of the houses. A few of them, however, took up defensive positions and shot down two Royal Marine Gazelle helicopters, killing three men on board.
The SBS were involved in nearly every landing by the British forces, making recces, reporting back, watching the Argentine forces and waiting at the invasion site when the British troops stormed ashore. It was classic seaborne Special Forces action, always at the sharp end, always taking risks, always keeping the invasion force informed of what to expect. It meant that no British force landed on either East or West Falkland without the highest-quality intelligence, fully aware of enemy positions and strengths. That intelligence saved many British lives.
As the Parachute Regiment moved inland to confront the Argentine forces on East Falkland, the SBS were moved to the larger West Falkland, where most of the islands’ population lived, where the Governor lived and from where the Falklands as a whole were administered. SBS units were secretly deployed in ten locations, to send back intelligence reports about the enemy and provide recce information for potential landing sites. The SBS also directed some of the vital naval bombardments after moving into exposed positions only one thousand metres from the enemy targets.
Before the main invasion the SAS conducted a brilliant operation on Pebble Island, off the coast of West Falkland, where the Argentine engineers were preparing an airstrip for Pucara ground-attack fighters and constructing a rudimentary radar station. Four SAS men of D Squadron of the Mountain Troop were inserted on to the island by the Boat Troop and reported back that eleven Argentine planes and a quantity of bombs, ammunition and stores were on the airfield and open to attack. The go-ahead was given and the SAS were tasked to carry out the operation.
The four-man Boat Troop choppered into West Falkland again and set up an observation post overlooking Pebble Island. After dark they launched their silent canoes, landed on the island before midnight and set up a radio link with HMS Hermes. The second four-man SAS unit moved up to towards the airstrip and, finding a safe hideout, laid low until daybreak. Having recced the airstrip in great detail, the SAS men stayed under cover until nightfall and then returned to the position of the Boat Troop, who radioed the information back to the Hermes.
It was decided the entire D Squadron should take part and they were flown in three helicopters from the Hermes, flying just above sea level without lights in darkness. As the troops landed on Pebble Island the moon came out and after a fast march the Squadron arrived in position at 7 am.
The attack began with small-arms fire and rockets which destroyed several of the Argentine aircraft before those manning the garrison realised they were under attack. Within sixty seconds of the SAS opening fire, HMS Glamorgan poured shells non-stop on to the airstrip and the infantry defences. This heavy firepower enabled the SAS units to move on to the airstrip and set explosives under every aircraft, the ammunition and bomb dumps, the petrol tanks and the stores. Within fifteen minutes of the start of
the attack, the mission was over, the airfield, the supplies and all the planes destroyed.
The SAS, with only one man wounded, beat a retreat and were picked up two hours later by helicopters and returned in triumph to Hermes. As news spread through the ship of the destruction caused by the SAS, those on board queued to congratulate them. ‘All in a day’s work,’ sums up their cool reply.
The last SAS attack of the Falklands War, a seaborne raid on the oil tanks near Stanley Harbour, was carried out in conjunction with the SBS. Four fast Rigid Raider assault craft, manned by the SBS and filled with SAS and SBS men, were ordered to cause mayhem in setting the oil tanks ablaze to divert attention from 2 Parachute Regiment, who were about to launch an attack on the all-important Wireless Ridge, from which the Argentine guns had an overall command of Port Stanley.
But this time there was no quick victory for Britain’s crack Special Forces. As the Rigid Raiders entered the bay in darkness and sped across the water to the oil tanks, an Argentine hospital ship anchored there turned its searchlights on them. Brightly illuminated for the Argentine forces, the four boats came under heavy and prolonged fire from medium machine guns, which was ripping holes in their sides and threatening to sink them.
An urgent wireless message was flashed to Major General Julian Thompson, of 3 Commando Brigade, the cutting edge of the Task Force, seeking assistance. The men in the Rigid Raiders were taking a hell of a battering and unless help came soon there was every probability that they would need to withdraw. They urged that 2 Para be diverted from their planned attack on Wireless Ridge to take out the medium machine guns pinning them down in the harbour.
‘Forget it,’ came the reply from Thompson. In essence, he told them, ‘If you’re big enough to get into the shit, you’re big enough to get out of it.’
The SAS and their SBS colleagues had no option but to turn and run for it – back to base. But they didn’t like the idea of having to back off so ignominiously. Indeed some of the men were furious that Thompson had refused their request to send 2 Para to the rescue so that they could finish their task of destroying the oil tanks. However, some senior planners back in London were rather pleased with the failure of the mission, for the British forces – the Royal Navy, the Army and the RAF – as well as the Falkland Islanders, needed the fuel.
The Falklands War, wrapped up very satisfactorily within ten weeks of the Argentines’ seizure of the islands, was a great tribute to the planners and the professionalism of Britain’s armed forces. The British forces lost two hundred and twenty-five men and more than seven hundred were wounded. As Robin Neillands wrote in his book In The Combat Zone:
Few complaints have come from the men who fought in the Falklands Islands. The war was won, at no great cost in lives, and when all the risks are taken into account that alone is a minor miracle. The main contribution of Special Forces and Special Operation Forces to the Falklands War was in the provision of first-class, well-trained troops, who could fight and win against heavy odds and in inhospitable terrain at the end of a long logistical trail. Without such troops, and a knowledge of their abilities, the retaking of the Falkland Islands would have been impossible and could not have been seriously contemplated.
There are other Special Forces around the world which train soldiers for similar duties to those of Britain’s SBS. And among the best trained and best equipped are the famous United States Navy SEAL (Sea, Air, Land) force, who can rightly boast of being a legendary body of professionals.
The United States Naval Special Warfare Command trains men for five dedicated types of operations. These include short, direct-action missions such as launching attacks against ships at sea or destroying facilities afloat or on the shoreline. This section also includes small, short, sharp combat operations against enemy forces. Special reconnaissance and surveillance operations, covert beach surveys and observation-post missions are other elements of the special training.
The SEALs also train for more dangerous operations – for example, equipping, training and leading friendly guerrilla forces behind enemy lines to make contact and conduct small-scale firefights with enemy forces. Since the attack on New York’s World Trade Center in September 2001, counter-terrorist training has become increasingly important. Great emphasis is now placed on training for one-off missions, as well as for long, hard counter-terrorist operations against a determined, well-armed, well-disciplined enemy which may continue for months.
And SEALs are also trained to train and advise military, paramilitary and law-enforcement personnel of allied and friendly nations in non-combat roles.
One of the SEALs’ classic exploits – code-named Task Unit Whiskey – took place in December 1989, when they were involved with the capture and removal of General Manuel Noriega, leader of the Republic of Panama, from his seat of power. The overall operation, code-named Operation Just Cause, was ordered by President George Bush on the advice of the CIA, because they believed Noriega had become a threat to the stability of Central America and a danger to the United States.
The mission of the team of US Navy SEALs assigned to Task Unit Whiskey was to find and immobilise General Noriega’s personal patrol boat, the Presidente Porras, which the CIA had identified as his principal plan of escape should the United States forces invade Panama and start looking for him.
Launched from Rodman Naval Station in Balboa Harbour – one of many US naval depots in the Panama Canal area – the twenty-one divers, swimmers and boat men in their two Combat Rubber Raiding Craft (CRRC) headed slowly and silently out to sea just before midnight. The men had back-up in case the Panama Defence Force deployed heavy firepower.
Within range of the port where the Presidente Porras was berthed a fire-support team manning .50-calibre heavy machine guns, Mk 19 automatic grenade-launchers and 60mm mortars, all equipped with night sights. Before dark their targets had been selected and the guns trained on the objectives. Two more patrol boats carried more SEALs in case their comrades ran into serious trouble and needed rescuing.
The plan was for the underwater swimmers to be dropped off their patrol boats about half a mile from the target, swim to Noriega’s boat, silently place and arm the demolition explosives on the hull and then swim back to their waiting craft without being noticed.
Everything went according to plan except for the fact that the high-powered, high-revving engines weren’t designed for slow, gentle travel. The engines began coughing and spluttering, drawing the attention of fishing smacks that were heading out to sea. But they kept going and made it safely to the tree-lined shore without being noticed by the patrol guards on duty.
Then they saw patrol boats crossing the harbour and from that distance they had no idea whether one was Noriega’s escape boat making a leisurely dash for the open sea or Panama Defence Force patrol boats checking that no US Navy vessels – big or small – were anywhere in the vicinity.
Then, through their wireless headphones, the SEALs team were advised that the operation would now start thirty minutes earlier than scheduled, which gave them no chance of carrying their carefully prepared plans. But they were ordered to detonate the Presidente Porras whatever happened. The only way to blast the explosives on time was to take their CRRCs closer to the target and risk being spotted and shot at. There was no other choice.
The boat men fired the engines but Boat Number 1 refused to start, so they had only one manageable CRRC with which to make good their escape. Commander Norman Carley, the mission commander, took the first boat slowly and quietly nearer the objective and the first dive pair slipped over the sides with their precious cargo of explosives. He then returned to the coast, fixed a tow line and pulled Boat Number 2 out towards the target. The second dive pair disappeared into the water and Carley returned to the protection of shadows on the coastline.
However, on their slow return voyage wireless contact was resumed with the urgent message that the operation had been brought forward another fifteen minutes, which meant that when the attack proper t
ook place by land, sea and air the SEALs swimmers would be just approaching their target. There was nothing that Carley could do and there was no way that he could alert his swimmers that their task was now far more urgent, dangerous and risky.
The dive pairs swam towards the target some twenty feet underwater so that no ripple would appear on the surface. They could not swim too fast, for between them they were carrying a Mk 138 Mod 1 charge loaded with twenty pounds of water-resistant explosive in a haversack, complete with an MCS-1 clock, a Mk 39 safety and arming device and a Mk 96 detonator, all designed to provide reliable delay and detonation to the main charge.
To provide greater security the swimmers used the Draeger rebreathing system, which recycles expelled air, cleans out carbon dioxide and replenishes the oxygen. It is a closed system ensuring no bubbles reach the surface. And, for once, the swimmers discarded the usual high-tech navigation system and instead relied on the old-fashioned method, wearing a luminous compass on the wrist and calculating the distance travelled by counting the number of kicks they made. It worked perfectly.
As the first two swimmers surfaced under Pier 18 the place seemed to explode. To their surprise a firefight was in full progress, something which was not meant to have started until fifteen minutes later. They wondered what the hell had gone wrong, and feared that someone might have tipped off the Panamanian guards that a seaborne attack was about to take place. It indeed appeared that the guards were nervous, for they were firing out to sea and throwing hand grenades into the harbour as if they had been tipped off that US SEAL swimmers were in the vicinity and planning an attack.
Death Before Dishonour - True Stories of The Special Forces Heroes Who Fight Global Terror Page 13