I received a call from Denzil Connick, who put me under the wing of an old hack, who being loyal to the Paras wanted the same outcome as me: the Regiment’s name intact. Alistair McQueen, Irish and solid, this guy saved my sanity. Thank you. He guided me through the media snakepit, protecting me and advising me. He made sure the truth of what I said was printed. Every interview I did was always aimed at stopping the inquiry and in praise of 3 Para.
I cocked up once when one particular paper just wouldn’t let go. They sent the same journalist to my door time and time again. So I whacked him. Big mistake: next day, I was assassinated on the front page. As Alistair said, ‘You cannot hit hacks, Vince, they will be judge and jury in their columns.’
At one point, after clearance by the Argentine government through my solicitor Julie Nixon, I found myself with Denzil, Dom Gray, Alistair and the legendary photography Ken Lennox (famous for his photo of Maggie leaving Downing Street in tears). We were on a plane to Argentina to do a joint story about ex-foes meeting each other to discuss the war. Two armed security guys went with us everywhere, even to a Latin tango bar run by exiled Cubans. What a night out! The whole thing was a success, but, before we travelled back, the synopsis for my second book was already in place. But that is another story.
It was around this time that the World in Action team approached me. They had collected a fair bit of information, enough to warrant a programme. I agreed to be interviewed once they had captured on film the letter-writer who was the source of the inquiry, which I wanted turned on its head.
It was once said to me by an MP in a bar after a TV show that the government needs to wash its dirty linen now and then, just to show the world that it can. Today, our troops are being hounded in Iraq for spitting. And aggressive fighting men on the frontline are now expected to act like policemen.
Before I can go any further, I must explain how this book came to be published. It was never meant to be like this: the manuscript was a rough bundle of papers so my father could read about my experiences. Nothing more, nothing less. However, the text found its way to a publisher.
Next thing I know, there I am sitting with publishers thinking, Wow. Before I signed a contract, the manuscript was passed to my old regimental HQ for approval. I received a reply, saying it was a good book, and it would be nice to have the exploits of 3 Para on the record. The book hit the shelves and ticked along with good reviews.
All I had wanted was recognition for 3 Para and to explain how troops suffer to achieve government aims. In my opinion, this war was the most heavily censored war of all time and I wanted to put across the experiences of the ordinary soldier.
Well, my turn did come. Throughout the Scotland Yard inquiry, the police travelled up and down the country searching for witnesses and piecing together events. Many lads called in to tell me the score. At least these lads could see the bigger picture. I received a call from Julie Nixon, my solicitor, informing me that I had to attend an interview at Aldershot Police Station. My fear and anxiety was indescribable.
Although Julie was calm, collected and supportive, I knew I was going to be grilled. The two detectives were smart and intelligent, as well as being overpowering in their seriousness and professionalism. We shook hands. I respected them immediately, and I felt sorry for all the lads who had to endure the raking up of old ghosts, memories and mental scars. I know I couldn’t assist them. The bravery of all 3 Paras was more important. ‘No comment, no comment,’ I kept saying.
After about two hours, I was informed that they might require me at a future date, and that it would be advisable not to get involved with the media, as charges of looting or murder could be raised against me or others.
I wanted to scream, ‘Tell the suits to bury it, stop this now!’ How could they (the suits that is) even think about a trial?
I walked from the station into fresh air and freedom. I feel angry towards the Tory government, whom this war helped re-elect who were now stabbing the troops in the back. Time passed, weeks, months, and then every now and then the story would pop up and disappear as it turned into the next day’s fish and chips wrapping paper. But, to me and everyone involved, it was a long nightmare.
World in Action did screen its programme, putting forward their view and mine. I had known for many months the source of the letters and had had many verbal confirmations as to who really kicked this off. Ex-Captain Mason, Support Company 3 Para, had written to an MP who had always moaned about the legalities of this war. The letters were written over a period of time and were filed even before this book was first published. They became a kind of eventual launching pad for the inquiry.
The bigger picture is that lots of men were dragged through this inquiry because of a misinterpretation of orders. That is also how this inquiry ended after eighteen months of nightmares, with a thirty-second slot on the TV news and half a column in the papers. The line was ‘It’s not in the public’s interest to pursue this any further’ – to me that was the right conclusion and what I had been fighting for.
Who ended the inquiry? Well, most probably it was the same suit who started it all in the first place.
You may sense my anger at the word ‘suit’ throughout this small chapter, but it was a big chapter and nightmare for me, my family and all those 3 Paras who were grilled. To me, suits are faceless bureaucrats who can abuse their power and ruin lives without losing sleep. Sadly, they run this country. But we don’t learn by history, do we? The same things are happening today in Iraq. Just as in the Falklands, the suits will be wined and dined, while the troops will always have to suffer.
As for me, well, I’ve said my piece now; it’s put to bed. I’m not a first-class author or military critic, but I will always speak out in defence of the troops. I do some lectures and have fallen in with the rank of ‘Joe Public’. I have lost a few friends, and some have returned to say ‘Sorry’. That’s fine. I know the crap we all went through. I’m happy with my work and my colleagues. Hopefully, I will retire peacefully and gracefully.
Acknowledgements are normally carried at the front of a book, however, I wish to do this now. John Blake and Lucian Randall, who have reprinted this book, are thanked wholeheartedly. There are many friends who have stuck by me throughout: Paul Reid, Jez Hemming, Mark Rawlings, Jon Cook, Dom Gray, Martyn Benson, Mark Eyles Thomas, who as a 17-year-old boy has already made a success of his life. Alistair McQueen and Julie Nixon who assisted me when I was alone against the powers that be. Everybody needs friends and family to get them through life. My family closed ranks and supported me throughout. They are all heroes to me.
But one person remains my main strength, my wife Karon. She may not have given me a welcome-home kiss, and we did get divorced soon after the war, but we quickly remarried and brought into the world our daughters, Beth and Meg. It is she and she alone to whom I owe so much, a quiet, inoffensive, routine girl who has endured years of nightmares with me.
My nightmares exist to this day, the nightmares of the inquiry and the war. She never moaned once and she is the one who wakes me gently when I moan at night. She has quietly supported me for nearly twenty-four years. She is also a war veteran in my eyes and should wear my medals, and I’m sure there are other wives the same out there. One day the nightmares may end for everyone who suffered but for now, as when all wars end, the casualty list is bigger than you think.
GLOSSARY
ACC Army Catering Corps
a.s.a.p. as soon as possible
AT Anti-Tank
basher improvised sleeping shelter, often using a poncho
bergen backpack containing mess kit, food rations, sleeping bag, spare clothing, etc.
blowpipe hand-held, wire-guided, ground-to-air missile
blue-on-blue accidental clash between forces fighting on the same side
Cabbagehead Marine
Chinook powerful twin-rotor helicopter used by both the British and the Argentineans
chopper helicopter
CO Commanding
Officer
compo standard-issue dried food rations for use in the field: GS (General Service) – canned; Arctic – dried
Craphat soldier not of one’s own regiment (not applied to the SAS)
CSM Company Sergeant-Major
DF defensive fire
Endex end of exercise
Exocet variable-range guided missile particularly used in sea warfare
FAP first aid post
FIBUA fighting in built-up areas
FN Belgian-made automatic rifle
FOO forward observation officer
FPA final protection area: target on which a machine-gun is locked, or registered
GPMG general-purpose machine-gun
H hour the time at which an action or battle is to commence
HE high explosive
IWS individual weapon sight: infra-red for night use
JNCO junior non-commissioned officer
MG machine-gun
Milan short-range, wire-guided, anti-tank missile; also used against bunkers
Mirage French fighter-bomber used by the Argentineans
MOD Ministry of Defence
MT Motor Transport
NCO non-commissioned officer
ND negligent discharge (of a weapon)
NOD night observation device
OC Officer Commanding
OGs durable cotton-denim battle dress; often preferred, particularly in cold conditions, to standard-issue ‘lightweights’
OP observation post
PC Platoon Commander
Pucará twin-piston-engined ground-attack aircraft used by the Argentineans
QM quartermaster
RAC Royal Armoured Corps
RAMC Royal Army Medical Corps
R & R rest and recuperation
RMP Regimental Military Police
RSM Regimental Sergeant-Major
rubber dick hoax, wind-up
SAS Special Air Service
SBS Special Boat Squadron
Scimitar light tank equipped with a seventy-six-millimetre gun and particularly suited to cross-country use
Scorpion light tank equipped with a thirty-millimetre automatic cannon and particularly suited to cross-country use
Seacat medium-range sea-to-air missile
Sea King anti-submarine helicopter for naval use with a capacity of up to twenty persons
SF sustained fire
SLR self-loading rifle
SMG sub-machine-gun
stag duty guard duty
stand down cease guard duty
stand to begin guard duty
tab Parachute and other regiments’ term for a brisk march or run
Tom private soldier
PLATES
Heading towards the South Atlantic aboard the SS Canberra.
Landing-craft drills on Ascension Island.
On Ascension Island.
One of B Company’s gun crews. Left to right: Steve Ratchford, Taff McNeilly, me.
Left to right: Pte Dominic Gray, me, (?), Ben.
The machine gun platoon, 3 Para. Back row, left to right: Pte John Skipper, Pte Stewart, me, Sgt Deaney, Cpl Johnny Cook, Lte Mike Oliver, L/Cpl Tony Peers, Cpl Thompson, L/Cpl Mark Hawlings, Pte Chris Dexter, Pte Tony Jones. Front row: Pte Steve Ratchford, Pte Taff McNeilly, Pte Robert Jeffries, Pte Chaderton, Pte Dave Chambers, Pte Rick Westry, Pte Billy Knight, Pte ‘Rats’, Pte Bob Geddis, Pte Mick Coleman.
Gun positions in a bunker at San Carlos Bay. Left to right: me, Ratch, Taff.
Boarding chopper to fly to the summit of Mount Estancia for the assault on Longdon.
SF machine-gun tracer lights the sky during the battle for Longdon.
Me with Kev Connery shortly after the battle.
On the hard-won summit of Longdon.
Me on a captured 81mm mortar position.
View from my machine-gun position along the ridge of Longdon (about 1,000 metres).
Argentinian prisoners.
Rick Westry (left) and me with two Argentinians found hiding in a bunker.
First aid post for 3 Para at the base of Longdon. L/Cpl James (centre) was wounded in the back and foot.
Young Argentinian soldier killed by a collapsing bunker.
Charred remains of an Argentinian killed by a phosphorus-filled grenade.
Cpl Pete Thompson (left) and me pointing at the wound from the bullet that killed this Argentinian.
The mutilated victim of a shell attack.
Bodies awaiting burial. The Argentinians were buried on Longdon.
Two helmet-topped SLRs mark the spot where Doc Murdoch and Geordie Lang were killed.
Tony Jones (left) and Bob Geddis entering Port Stanley. The Red Cross buildings were in fact ammunition depots.
Human faces of war. Taff Williams surrounded by Argentinians who gave themselves up in Port Stanley.
Prisoners clearing up.
Marines and Paras looting in Port Stanley.
Left to right: Lt Mike Oliver, me, Pte Tony Jones, Cpl Johnny Cook.
Homeward bound. Celebrating Airborne Forces Day on SS Norland. Left to right: Joe, (?), Kev Connery, Johnny Cook, me, Paul Reid, Billy Baker.
The twenty-three temporary graves at Teal Inlet for the dead of 3 Para.
The funeral at Aldershot for the repatriated dead of 2 and 3 Para.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
On the military side, many serving and former members of 3 Para have lent their valued support, notably Johnny Cook, Dominic Gray and Grant Grinham. Also a tower of strength was Johnny Weeks, who is and will always be a professional soldier’s soldier.
Bravery is not confined to the field of action. In this connection, I cannot thank enough Rita and Bill Hedicker, who allowed me to relate the tragic death of their son and my friend, Pete. This is bravery and strength of a special order.
I should like to thank my family: Fred, Pam and Brian, who have unfailingly supported me through thick and thin; and my brother Russell, who gave me invaluable encouragement from the start.
Finally, my thanks to Wally Camfield, formerly of 3 Para, who inspired me to join that elite regiment, and also to my wife Karon who at times lives with my battles when everyone else is asleep.
COPYRIGHT
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