There is No Alternative

by Claire Berlinski

  Some of the ships were superlative and some of the equipment excellent, to be sure. But when you are obliged to commandeer the QE2 to supplement your fleet, you are most of all talking about “supreme confidence.” A violent winter was arriving in the southern hemisphere, with sixty-foot swells and Antarctic gales. The Argentineans were piling men and materiel into the Falklands. Many have suggested that if Thatcher had had any military experience at all, she would not have been so confident.

  But she hadn’t.

  Her Foreign Office was seized with the vapors, warning of a backlash against British citizens in Argentina, the ire of Britain’s allies, the risk of Soviet involvement, charges of colonialism. “All the considerations were fair enough,” she later wrote.

  But when you are at war you cannot allow the difficulties to dominate your thinking: you have to set out with an iron will to overcome them. And anyway what was the alternative? That a common or garden dictator should rule over the Queen’s subjects and prevail by fraud and violence? Not while I was Prime Minister.123

  This passage would sound vain and boastful were she not describing precisely what transpired.

  None of her other problems had meanwhile disappeared. On April 8, this interchange was recorded in the House of Commons:Mr. Cunliffe: What Easter message can the right hon. Lady give the three million unemployed in this country? How does she suggest that they share the joys of Easter in the unprecedented atmosphere of despair and hopelessness in which they find themselves? In addition, is it not a scandalous indictment that for thousands of Easter school leavers their first job will be to sign on at an employment exchange? Does the right hon. Lady not feel that that is a scandalous state of affairs and that she must bear some responsibility for this shameless episode? Does she still believe and insist that life is better under the Conservatives?

  The Prime Minister: The best hope for future job prospects is to continue to try to reduce inflation.124

  Failure in the Falklands would have been the end of Thatcher, Thatcherism, and the rollback of socialism in Britain. Her confidence under these inauspicious circumstances was, surely, a miracle of Providence. Leaders who become legend almost always display this strain of preternatural confidence. In all of history, the number of women who have both possessed it and achieved the power to exercise it may be counted on one hand.

  The United States initiated a frantic round of shuttle diplomacy. On April 8, Thatcher received Secretary of State Alexander Haig and his entourage at Downing Street. Thatcher opened by showing him her portraits of Nelson and Wellington, then steamrollered the nervous, chain-smoking Haig, rejecting entirely his proposal to establish an interim authority in the archipelago under multilateral supervision. It was out of the question, she told him, instantly likening the idea to the appeasement of Hitler. The scene is wonderfully described by the American diplomat James Rentschler:La Thatcher is really quite fetching in a dark velvet two-piece ensemble with gros-grain piping and a soft hairdo that heightens her blond English coloring . . . Dinner in the cramped, wood-paneled private dining-room is a very pleasant affair of overcooked British beef and quippy conversation, at least until coffee, when the PM gets down to the nut-cutter nitty-gritty. Thatcher, you see, just ain’t buying our “suggestion” for a diplomatic approach to the crisis . . . High color is in her cheeks, a note of rising indignation in her voice, she leans across the polished table and flatly rejects what she calls the “woolliness” of our second-stage formulation, conceived in our view as a traditional face-saving ploy for Galtieri: “I am pledged before the House of Commons, the Defense Minister is pledged, the Foreign Secretary is pledged to restore British administration. I did not dispatch a fleet to install some nebulous arrangement which would have no authority whatsoever. Interim authority!—to do what? I beg you, I beg you to remember that in 1938 Neville Chamberlain sat at this same table discussing an arrangement which sounds very much like the one you are asking me to accept; and were I to do so, I would be censured in the House of Commons—and properly so! We in Britain simply refuse to reward aggression—that is the lesson we have learned from 1938.”

  “Tough lady,” concludes Rentschler with some understatement.125

  The prime minister concluded the evening on an arch note. “I do hope you realize how much we appreciate and are thankful for your presence here,” she said, “and how the kind of candor we have displayed could only be possible among the closest of friends. With everyone else we’re merely nice!”126

  Haig and his entourage returned the next day to Argentina, where vast, chanting crowds had assembled in the Plaza de Mayo. “AR-GEN-TIN-A! AR-GEN-TIN-A! THATCHER PUTA! GUERRA! GUERRA!” Rentschler, observing this scene, despaired of Galtieri’s position. “Given the pitch of jingoistic sentiment whipped up hereabouts,” he wrote, “I can’t possibly see how he’s going to walk this cat back.”127

  Haig delivered the news to Galtieri: Thatcher was intransigent. Galtieri, suspecting for the first time that he had liberated a genie he could not master, played the obvious card. He threatened to turn to the Soviet Union for assistance. Haig sent a cable to President Ronald Reagan from Buenos Aires:Galtieri, face-to-face with the prospect of war, leveled with me. He said he could not withdraw both his military and administrative presence and last a week. If the British attacked, he explained, he would have to accept the offer of full support made by the Cuban Ambassador, who just returned after more than a year’s absence. The Cubans implied they were speaking for the Russians, and even insinuated that the Soviets had offered to sink the British carrier (with Prince Andrew aboard), leaving the British and the world to believe an Argentine sub had done it. I doubt that such an offer was actually made by the Soviets, but we cannot discount it altogether.128

  Haig added that the time for Reagan to intervene personally with Thatcher was at hand. “Good luck, Al,” Rentschler remarked dubiously to his diary.

  The American entourage flew back to London, where Haig relayed the Argentine hard line. Thatcher’s home secretary, Willie Whitelaw, chewed his nails with anxiety. A wintry gust of air, Rentschler noted, blew through the room from an open window as Thatcher stared fixedly down the table:“I am afraid that this news fully reinforces the correctness of the course on which we are now embarked,” sez she—“the fleet must steam inexorably on” . . . the Iron Maiden is really toughening up her already robust talk, especially on the question of the fleet standing off: “Unthinkable, that is our only leverage, I cannot possibly give it up at this point, one simply doesn’t trust burglars who have tried once to steal your property! No, Al, no, absolutely not, the fleet must steam on!”129

  And the fleet steamed on.

  The war that ensued was the largest and longest naval battle since the great Pacific campaign in the Second World War, and one of the most logistically complex in history. The British fought with an 8,000-mile logistics pipeline in a combat arena 4,000 miles from their nearest air base on Ascension Island, halfway between South America and Africa. It was not a walkover. In the words of the commander of the task force, Admiral Sir John Woodward, “It was a lot closer run than many would care to believe. We were on our last legs. If they had been able to hold on another week it might have been a different story.”130

  On April 12, as British submarines arrived in the Falklands, Britain pronounced a 200-mile exclusion zone around the islands, declaring that Argentine forces found in the zone would be subject to destruction. The main task force departed from Ascension Island on April 17. British nationals were advised to leave Argentina. A despondent Haig abandoned his shuttle diplomacy.

  On April 23, a small British commando force attempted to land on a glacier in South Georgia. High winds and heavy snow forced them to abort. A second attempt resulted in two helicopter crashes. When Thatcher was apprised of this news, it was not yet known if the crews had survived. Not long afterward, Thatcher was informed that all had been daringly rescued, but she allows in her memoirs that for a moment, she gave in to despair, wonderin
g “whether the task we had set ourselves was truly impossible.”131

  Her moment of doubt did not last long. On April 25, the commando force retook South Georgia.

  INVASION!

  The Sun, reporting the British recapture of South Georgia

  Thatcher and her defense secretary, John Nott, delivered the news to the press. The conference may be viewed on YouTube.132 As Nott reads the prepared statement, Thatcher flushes with obvious pride and, one assumes, overwhelming relief, although one would not know from her face that she had ever suffered a moment’s anxiety. Nott, in his horn-rimmed glasses and slightly overlarge suit, looks slouched and haggard; it is clear that he is suffering from the strain. Thatcher, impeccable in a navy ensemble and pearls, is ramrod straight, her chest thrust out, glowing, her hair stiff and shining like a bronze carapace. When Nott reaches the words “So far, no British casualties have been reported,” her lips curl into a slight, triumphant smile, which she quickly suppresses in favor of a more dignified expression. Nott then reads the text of the cable reporting the recapture: “Be pleased to inform Her Majesty that the White Ensign flies alongside the Union Jack in South Georgia. God Save the Queen.” Thatcher cannot contain herself. She beams. Dimples appear in her cheeks.

  Thatcher’s enjoyment of the moment is spoiled when reporters seem more concerned with Britain’s next step than delighted by the news. A journalist quite reasonably asks, “What happens next?”

  “Just rejoice—at—that—news,” she booms, her voice resonating from the chest, the force of her indignation causing both her defense minister and the assembled reporters to step back as if blown by a sharp wind. “And congratulate our armed forces and the marines.”

  A small voice is audible over the clicking of the flash bulbs. “Are we going to declare war on Argentina, Mrs. Thatcher?”

  “Rejoice!” she repeats, and flounces off.

  On April 30, Reagan announced America’s support for Britain. On May 1, British forces landed on West and East Falkland, and the naval bombardment of Port Stanley began. British Vulcans—after a flight that required five mid-air refuelings—bombed the runway of Port Stanley airport.

  A PUNCH UP YOUR JUNTA!

  Sunday People, reporting raids on Port Stanley

  The Argentines claimed to have shot down British airplanes. When the war cabinet met on the following day, it was advised that an Argentinean cruiser, the General Belgrano, was sailing on the edge of the exclusion zone. It was believed to be armed with Exocet missiles. “It was clear to me what must be done to protect our forces,” Thatcher recalls.133 On May 2, the Conqueror sunk the Belgrano, with the loss of 323 lives, leading the Argentines to order their ships back to port for the duration of the conflict.

  GOTCHA!

  The Sun, reporting the sinking of the Belgrano

  It was and remains the only ship ever to have been sunk by a nuclear-powered submarine. Subsequently, the commander of the Conqueror, Chris Wreford-Brown, stoically remarked of the event that “the Royal Navy spent thirteen years preparing me for such an occasion. It would have been regarded as extremely dreary if I had fouled it up.”

  The loss of life shocked opponents of the war out of their torpor, domestically and abroad. Thatcher now came under intense diplomatic pressure to accept a peace plan proposed by the president of Peru and endorsed by Al Haig. But on May 4, an Exocet missile hit the British destroyer Sheffield in waters southeast of the Falklands, killing twenty and severely wounding twenty-four more. It sank several hours later. It was the first Royal Navy ship lost in action since 1945. There was no chance, after this, that anything short of complete Argentine surrender could be sold to the British public, not that Thatcher had ever considered such a thing.

  STICK IT UP YOUR JUNTA!

  The Sun, urging rejection of the Peruvian peace proposal

  Three days later, the Argentines bombed the destroyer Coventry, which sank with the loss of nineteen of its crew. The Atlantic Conveyor was sunk by an Exocet, killing twelve. Thatcher’s cabinet ordered the assault to continue. “Steadily but surely we are gaining ground,” she assured her countrymen. “Our men and ships are there also that others may mark and learn that land they take by force they shall not hold.”134

  On May 21, under cover of darkness, British paratroopers and marines landed on the western coast of East Falkland. On May 26, British paratroopers headed south from East Falkland to mount a surprise attack on Darwin and Goose Green. The BBC World Service announced, prior to the action, that a British parachute battalion was poised to take Goose Green, destroying the element of surprise. The commander of the battalion ordered his men to attack nonetheless. Outnumbered three to one, they won the battle, although the commander was killed in action. The residents of Goose Green, who had been imprisoned by the Argentines, were released.

  KILL AN ARGIE AND WIN A METRO

  —Private Eye

  Reagan feared the destabilization of the whole region, leaving it vulnerable to communist opportunism. He tried in vain to persuade Thatcher to embrace a settlement. She could now claim military victory, he told her; her honor had been restored. She scorched the phone lines in response to the suggestion. “Just supposing Alaska was invaded,” said Thatcher. “Now you’ve put all your people up there to retake it and someone suggested that a contact could come in. You wouldn’t do it.”

  “No, no, although, Margaret, I have to say I don’t quite think Alaska is a similar situation—”

  “More or less so. I didn’t lose some of my best ships and some of my finest lives to leave quietly under a ceasefire without the Argentines withdrawing.”

  “Oh. Oh, Margaret, that is part of this, as I understand it—”

  “Ron, I’m not handing over the islands now. I can’t lose the lives and blood of our soldiers to hand the islands over to a contact. It’s not possible. You are surely not asking me, Ron, after we’ve lost some of our finest young men, you are surely not saying, that after the Argentine withdrawal, that our forces, and our administration, become immediately idle? I had to go to immense distances and mobilize half my country.”

  “Margaret, but I thought that part of this proposal . . .” Here Reagan ceases to form complete sentences. “Margaret, I . . . Yes, well . . . Well, Margaret, I know that I’ve intruded and I know how . . . ”

  “You’ve not intruded at all, and I’m glad you telephoned.”135

  Click.

  HERE IT COMES, SENORS!

  —The Sun, caption to a photo of a missile signed Up Yours, Galtieri!

  The final assault began soon thereafter, with heavy bloodshed. A British force of 8,000 men fought their way over the island and the ring of mountains around Stanley in fierce hand-to-hand combat. One by one, the Argentine positions fell. Then, on June 14, with British troops poised to take Stanley itself, the Argentine commander surrendered. The announcement took Thatcher and her cabinet by surprise. The commander of the British land forces immediately sent a message to London. “The Falkland Islands once more are under the government desired by their inhabitants. God save the Queen.”

  THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

  —Newsweek

  In total, 255 British lives were lost, as well as six ships, thirty-four aircraft, and £2.778 billion. The Argentines lost 649 servicemen, many of them teenage conscripts. Three civilian islanders were killed.

  What was gained? Many wondered.

  Yeah. And then it was a case of no empire no longer. So after World War II, the whole world was going, “Come on, Europe, give these countries back. Come on, we just had a bloody war; let’s give ’em back. Britain?”

  “Wha’?”

  “What’s that behind your back?”

  “Oh, it’s India and a number of other countries.”

  “Give ’em back.”

  “Oh, all right. There’s that one there, and there’s that one . . . ”

  “Falkland Islands?”

  “Oh, we need the Falkland Islands . . . for strategic sheep purposes.”r />
  —Eddie Izzard, “Dress to Kill,” 1999

  Dr. Johnson’s remarks about the Falklands conflict of 1771 remained apt: “Let us now compute the profit of Britain. We have . . . maintained the honor of the crown, and the superiority of our influence. Beyond this what have we acquired? What, but a bleak and gloomy solitude, an island, thrown aside from human use, stormy in winter, and barren in summer; an island, which not the southern savages have dignified with habitation; where a garrison must be kept in a state that contemplates with envy the exiles of Siberia; of which the expense will be perpetual.”

  Defending the interests of the 1,820 British subjects who lived in the Falklands and wished to remain British was a noble goal. Of course it was. But for the cost of the war, every last one of the islanders could have been airlifted to the Welsh countryside and resettled with a stipend so handsome they would never have needed to shear a sheep again. This could have been achieved without the loss of a single life.

  Yet there was a gain beyond ensuring the self-determination of the Falklanders. The gain was to British credibility and prestige—and to Thatcher’s, in particular, both at home and abroad. The words “credibility” and “prestige” may be abstract, particularly contrasted with the real and immediate horror of the loss of young life. But this credibility and prestige prompted events that were momentous.