But in the second letter, commenting on the Jeremy Harris interview, he said;
Offence in Government circles was taken at your answer to the first question in which you referred to ‘green lights’ offered by Her Majesty’s Government to the Argentines. Taking into account the clear instructions on press interviews you are well aware there is a limit to be observed. Your intimate knowledge of the history of the Conflict, and its sensitivities in political terms, will no doubt be valuable to a parliamentary enquiry currently studying the background of the Argentine invasion of the Falklands. I therefore consider that you displayed a lack of judgement in making these statements to the media. I accept that before recording began you declined to answer political questions and indeed your answers to the later questions were impeccably correct. But even having noted your comments and made allowances you should know that you have incurred my displeasure. This administrative censure will not be recorded in your appointing record, but will be retained in my office for the duration of your present appointment. The fact that you have incurred my displeasure is also to be conveyed to the MOD as part of my report on the incident.
This censure was fair enough. It was something he had to do and of course I already recognized my mistake. And I’m not blaming Rex. I was perhaps naive in not expecting a grilling from an experienced journalist, and equally so in believing this was of less importance now that the war was over. In my defence I was entirely unaware of the sensitivity of the Franks Enquiry. We had our own, and rather more dangerous responsibilities in the immediate aftermath. At that stage we, after all, had been fully heads down either fighting the war or clearing up.
Admiral Fieldhouse made his position completely clear at a private lunch in my cabin after arrival at Chatham.
‘Did you get two letters from me?’ he said.
‘I certainly did, sir.’
‘You can take it that one cancels out the other.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Which only confirmed what I had always known. Admiral Fieldhouse was a man who took a fair-minded and balanced view of anything.
Our journey home was uneventful apart from a rendezvous with HMS Illustrious and two escorts who were on their way south to take over as flagship from HMS Bristol. Throughout we were bombarded with press summaries. Some of them were pretty fanciful but there were certainly some journalists who were hitting the bulls’ eyes. More than one stated that I had already been muzzled. There was also a fair amount of positive comment about Endurance and the obvious questions were raised about John Nott’s change of opinion.
One Sunday one of the ship’s company came to my cabin asking if he could telephone home. I knew his mother was suffering from terminal cancer, so naturally I agreed. We could make calls through our civilian satellite system, but strictly speaking this was ‘illegal’ because we could have been monitored by the Argentines or by anyone else. But I felt this particular circumstance warranted the risk.
He made the call, and when he returned to thank me he added, ‘Sir, you’re in the shit again.’
‘What have I done now?’ I asked.
‘My mum says you’re all over the front page of The Observer.’
‘Oh really? What’s it all about?’
He described the article his mother had read. It was an incredible mix of truth and distortion, not entirely untypical of quite a lot of the material written that summer. The ship’s company enjoyed it all hugely, but I knew the piper would have to be paid.
It was just before we reached the Channel that I received the signal informing me that we would not, after all, be met by Admiral Fieldhouse, the Commander-in-Chief. Instead we were to receive his Chief of Staff, Vice Admiral Ted Anson. At face value this was perfectly acceptable but we had noted that the more senior ships had all been met personally by the C-in-C and many by the Prime Minister.
The question and answer brief I was given was most specific. Events leading up to the Argentine invasion were now the subject of the Franks Enquiry and it would be quite wrong of me to comment or to give my views at this time. It worked like this:
‘Has your ship’s company been told to have no contact with the press?’
‘No. They are in precisely the same position as the company of any other ship returning from the Atlantic.’
‘Were you aware that one of your talks to the ship’s company was subsequently broadcast on ITV?’
‘No, I was unaware that the recording was being made and neither I nor the MOD were consulted about the broadcast.’
And so on.
In the event I played the game to the letter, even if sections of the media may have found me pretty inarticulate. On the plus side I was able to show off a large wad of congratulatory signals and telegrams which did a great deal to boost morale. And Admiral Anson said it as well as anyone: ‘It was a privilege to welcome home the longest serving member of Task Force 317 today. You have carried out your duties with distinction and notable success, and your ship’s company’s evident pride and spirit was a pleasure to see. I wish you a joyful homecoming and a well deserved rest.’
I was perhaps most moved by a letter from the wife of a member of the ship’s company. In it were many echoes of the situation in which I had left Elizabeth:
I have been asked many times what it is like being married to someone serving in HMS Endurance. I always admit it is hardly a normal way of life. There is sometimes a feeling of deprivation when being alone for so long. Then there are joyful reunions and adjustments to the family routine to make when he comes home again.
All Naval wives know how the problems grow in magnitude when you face them alone. It is particularly frustrating not to be able to put some of those little things right about the house, and worse still to be unable to find somebody willing to come and make the repair. They are little things but they add up when you are alone.
But we were proud to belong to part of the extended family of the brave little Plum, sailing into the romantic vast whiteness of the Antarctic, and perhaps a little envious of the men experiencing the beauty and adventure. The wives have little to compensate them for the long days and nights on their own. They meet on very few occasions at recommissioning ceremonies and the ship’s company’s dance.
Subsequent events and the knowledge that Endurance had played such a major part in the retaking of South Georgia and of Southern Thule did little to allay our fears. But hearing about so many brave deeds filled us with pride, each for her own special hero.
And finally there was the great day when our heroes returned. With flags flying, hearts pounding, and tears of joy it was the most wonderful reunion.’
One contemporary account described the great day like this:
The public had to make their welcomes from the Strand at Gillingham. It is estimated that some 20,000 people watched and cheered as Endurance passed 300 yards from the shore. There were other crowded vantage points too, like the power station at Grain and the river front at Hoo. The crowds were simply everywhere to greet the ship the Argentines couldn’t sink.
Local pubs offered free beer for the ship’s company. There were miniature bottles of rum from Medway Council and free bottles of wine from a local merchant. Inevitably there were civic receptions and special editions of local newspapers.
The welcome began as Endurance was led up the Medway by the Queen’s Harbourmaster’s launch, boats of the Kent County Constabulary and the Ministry of Defence Police. She was followed by an armada of craft large and small. It was a turnout the river is unlikely to see again.
The Bullnose reception was strictly in accordance with tradition. Flag Officer Medway, Rear Admiral William Higgins, took the salute as Endurance canalled through the lock into the dockyard. VIPs stood behind the Admiral’s saluting base and the Mayor of Rochester and other civic dignitaries were found favourable vantage points nearby.
But formality broke down as she berthed. Relatives and dockyard workers yelled themselves hoarse. Dozens of banners were wave
d in the sunshine, fireman’s hoses threw up multi-coloured sprays. There were balloons, hooters and sirens. It was an expression of spontaneous joy and thanks that nobody who saw it will ever forget.’
It was the greatest day of our lives. The ship’s company and I were braced with anticipation. The ship had come in from the cold. HMS Endurance was the only HM ship to return from the Falklands to the Medway and the people of south-east England waited to welcome her in their tens of thousands. According to the press this brave little ship, which epitomized the South Atlantic, had refused to die. During the year she had been away from her base port there had been a political furore over her future, adventures in the ice of the Antarctic, a war against Argentina and controversy over her Captain.
The ship had been first in and last out of the Falklands Conflict. She had seen plenty of action and had acquitted herself well. Everyone had played a part in this success story and the rapturous welcome exceeded all expectations. We had been officially welcomed home the day before. We had received wonderful signals and telegrams. And, to our great pleasure, Lord Shackleton had already come out to greet us.
But there were others who now noted that we were the only ship not to be welcomed back personally by the Commander-in-Chief. And why, the question would be asked, were we just one of the few ships not to be welcomed by Mrs Thatcher?
I had already begun to have serious misgivings. The day before a helicopter had been dispatched with special instructions for our arrival at Chatham. Included in the mailbag was a directive from the Deputy Director of Public Relations Navy informing me that two senior MOD Press Officers would be embarked before our arrival. The directive went on to say: The point of all this is that your future in the Navy depends more on Friday’s Press Conference than anything you have ever done.’
I was furious. And it was not surprising that the headline in the Daily Mail read: ‘Captain Nick Sails In and the Two Men in Grey have Nothing to do with his Silence.’
Numerous press men, journalists and reporters, five television teams and dozens of VIPs joined the ship for the two-hour river passage. My every word was monitored by the Ministry which was as stupid as it was insensitive. My elation was now tempered with annoyance.
But as we cleared the Bullnose and finally caught sight of our waiting families, it was impossible not to share in the unmitigated joy of the company. ‘Balis to the Ministry,’ I thought, ‘the important thing is to be home at last.’
Chapter 13
POST MORTEM
On 8 July, Mrs Thatcher addressed the House of Commons:
I beg to move that this house approves the decision of Her Majesty’s Government to set up a Falkland Islands review as announced in a reply to a question by the Right Honourable Gentleman, the Leader of the Opposition on 6 July, 1982.
As early as 8 April I announced in reply to the Right Honourable Member for Orkney and Shetland (Mr Grimond) that there would be a review of the way in which the Government Departments concerned had discharged their responsibilities in the lead up to the invasion of the Falkland Islands. Since then, although a few have argued that this is not necessary, there is widespread agreement that a review of some sort should be conducted and that there should be prior consultation with the Leader of the Opposition and the leaders of the other opposition parties in the House who are Privy Councillors.
It would be fair to say that the consultations led to broad agreement on the nature, scope and composition of the review. Accordingly, I set out a form of the review and its terms of reference in my reply of Tuesday to the Leader of the Opposition and I welcome the opportunity to explain to the House today the reasons why the Government have decided to appoint a committee of six Privy Councillors to conduct the review, and to give it the terms of reference set out in my answer to the Right Honourable Gentleman.
I wish to deal in turn with the nature of the review, its scope and composition. As to its nature, the overriding considerations are that it should be independent; that it should command confidence; that its members should have access to all relevant papers and persons; and that it should complete its work speedily. Those four considerations taken together lead naturally to a Committee of Privy Councillors. Such a committee has one great advantage over other forms of enquiry as it conducts its deliberations in private and its members are all Privy Councillors. There need be no reservations therefore in providing it with all the relevant evidence including much that is highly sensitive, subject to safeguards upon its use and publication.
A Committee of Privy Councillors can be authorized to see relevant departmental documents, cabinet and cabinet committee memoranda, and minutes and intelligence assessments and reports. Many of these documents could not be made available to a Tribunal of Enquiry, a Select Committee, or a Royal Commission.
We did put in a caveat that the Chairman of the Committee will be consulted if any deletions have to be proposed. The fact that the committee would know that these deletions had been made from its report offers the best assurance to those who might believe that the government would try to make unjustified deletions. Nevertheless, I repeat that it is the Government’s aim to present to Parliament the report of the committee in full.
MP Tam Dalyell invited the Prime Minister to outline the membership of the committee. Her response was:
I came to the membership of the committee as announced in my reply to the Right Honourable Gentleman on Tuesday. Lord Franks has agreed to be the chairman. I know that that choice is agreeable, indeed it has been welcomed by all those I have consulted. Lord Franks will bring unrivalled experience to the work of his committee. We are fortunate that he is ready to take on the task.
As I also announced on Tuesday, the other members of the committee will be my noble friend, Lord Barber, Lord Lever of Manchester, Sir Patrick Nairne, the Right Honourable Member for Leeds South, Mr Rees, and my noble friend, Lord Watkinson. The Queen has been graciously pleased to approve that Sir Patrick Nairne be sworn as a member of Her Majesty’s Privy Council.
The Right Honourable Gentleman, The Leader of the Opposition proposed the name of the Right Honourable Member for Leeds South and Lord Lever. I hope that the House will share my view that a committee with this membership gives us the best possible assurance that the review will be carried out with independence and integrity.
The Spectator, in its editorial, was less convinced:
There may be those who feel they have read enough of the Falklands War, its origins and its aftermath to be going on with, and that the debate should now be adjourned for a few weeks. Nevertheless, returning to the subject after more than three months I’m tempted to repeat one point. It was the decision by the Secretary of State for Defence, Mr Nott, to scrap HMS Endurance, the one armed Royal Naval vessel stationed in the South Atlantic which led directly to the invasion of the Falklands by Argentina. In simple terms once the British Government had determined the time had come to withdraw the White Ensign from that part of the world, General Galtieri concluded, not unreasonably, that we had resolved to give rather lower priority to the defence of the Falkland Islands.
Several distinguished voices were raised in an effort to save the Endurance; not only because of its presence, which was seen to constitute a deterrent to invasion, but for its valuable role as support ship to the British Antarctic Survey. It was as much a petty spending cut as the decision to drop some of the BBC’s foreign language broadcasts. It smacked of junior Whitehall accounting, without any ministerial thought for the consequences.
Last November, dare I say it, the courageous captain, Nicholas Barker, tried to drum up public support for his ship before she sailed on what was to have been her final voyage. He was told, according to the Observer last Sunday, on direct orders from the Prime Minister, to keep his mouth shut. Now Captain Barker is saying that two weeks before the Argentine invasion he warned the MOD that it was about to take place.
His ship monitored flights by Argentine military aircraft and preparations of the Argentine Nav
y for war. He relayed this information to the MOD throughout the month of March. Apparently it was ignored and not even passed on to Lord Carrington. It looks as if Captain Barker may be one of the most important witnesses at Lord Franks’s Committee of Enquiry. The facts, and the allegations, against the MOD are damning indeed. Mrs Thatcher would not let Mr Nott resign when he offered to do so at the beginning of April, but there can be no saving of him now.
This was published among a plethora of similar broadsheet comment about the way in which the Government has mishandled the affair. It was pretty close to the truth although most of the substantive warnings came from Lords Shackleton and Buxton, and concerned Members of Parliament.
From the beginning of the enquiry on 26 July, 1982, until the report was published in January the following year the Franks Committee interviewed forty-two people; most of those were senior politicians or Foreign and Commonwealth Office pillars of the establishment. In my own experience, the questions asked were rarely more penetrating than a shotgun blast at a tank. Certainly they achieved no more than scraping away a few of the outer layers of camouflage paint.
The report, when it appeared, was described by one eminent journalist as ‘a marvellous miracle of lucid narrative, detached argument and precise economic prose. But the bloke in the pub is going to find it irrelevant and unsatisfactory. Basically it says it shouldn’t have happened and somebody should have stopped it. But then who is to blame? A lot of superannuated politicians and civil servants told the enquiry that nobody could have known, nobody should have stopped it, and therefore nobody is to blame. But given the fact that things went very badly wrong we must conclude that the committee failed to ask the right questions.’
Beyond Endurance: An Epic of Whitehall and the South Atlantic Page 26