HMS PLYMOUTH – FALKLANDS 1982

The final decision to go ahead with Operation SUTTON, the repossession of the Falklands, was received at 1300 20 May. The Argentines had already been made aware on 18 May, the BBC having announced that the two invasion groups had combined and were ready to attack.

This was the most exhilarating and satisfying moment of my life. From my Action Station on the Flight Deck, our ship leading the twelve ship Amphibious Force, I photographed the four lines of the group, with their thousands of troops on-board, ploughing steadily and inexorably forward, under grey and overcast skies, through a moderate sea, with some white horses.  <the photo is in front of me now as I type!!> Other escorts were on either side, the carriers were over the horizon and the ASW helicopters were dipping away – it was terrific: we were determined, we had the kit and we had the ships!

We were topped up to 90 days of endurance, we had an outfit and a half of ammunition, we had no Operational Defects awaiting stores, and we had even received mail the day before., a quite incredible feat of logistics support, especially at such a distance. We were tired – I had had little or no sleep for a couple of days – but we were going in.

PLYMOUTH had been the first surface warship to actually sail from Exercise Springtrain. We’d retaken South Georgia, and Lt-Cdr Astiz had signed the final surrender in our Wardroom. (Alfredo Astiz was sentenced to life on October 26th, 2011, in Argentina, for torture and murders). We’d worked ourselves up with daily circuit training: breathing apparatus, firefighting, first aid, rerouting electrical supplies etc. We’d fired an AS11 missile against the SANTA FE, and had bombarded Grytviken. We’d landed our SAS at night, who’d gone on to capture Astiz and his 15 SF men. We’d gone on to meet and escort incoming ships, including our own little flotilla of LSLs. And we’d had our 21st birthday with enough cake for everyone on-board.

We split into four groups, and headed into Falklands Sound. The wind had dropped and we had a clear night for our potential Naval Gunfire Support against the Arg troops on Fanning Head, to the north west of San Carlos water. Troops had been landed to the north of Fanning Head, and we could see their tracer going into enemy positions The Arg troops had anti-tank weapons, and we in PLYMOUTH – and the Landing Craft we were leading, were so close we could have been damaged by them seriously just as the Arg corvette GUERRICO had been almost sunk by our troops defending South Georgia. Some surrendered, some broke away, to shoot down to Army Gazelles and to kill three of the four downed aircrew in the water.

Five escorts had taken up their positions in the Sound, as we led the Landing Craft and other ships into San Carlos, in the dark. Opposition ashore was almost negligible, and although we were prepared for NGS, this was not needed.

We were heavily attacked by air all day. Our 20 year old Seacat aimer (the average age on-board was 20.8, slightly older than other ships, as we were the 6th Frigate Squadron leader), had one hiccup, when he failed to gather his first Seacat of the day as he fired at a Pucara, and the missile passed    between CANBERRA’s mast and funnel. He was very successful for the rest of the war.  There were continuous air raids for the next five hours, and we engaged with 4.5s, Seacat, 20mm Oerlikon  and GPMG. The two WWII vintage Oerlikons were fired by one of my Leading Cooks, and an LRO(T) – not seamen gunners. Despite the Combat Air Patrol (CAP) the Arg aircraft – Aeromacchi, Syhawk A4s, perhaps Etendards and Mirage Vs – were clearly targeting and hitting the warships in the Sound but luckily missing us in San Carlos.  

In the Sound, ANTRIM was hit, BRIILIANT and BROADSWORD were damaged, and ARGONAUT was stopped dead in the water with unexploded bombs on-board ARDENT was bombed and hit repeatedly. Half of the 40 aircraft attacking us were assessed as being shot down, but this was difficult to confirm, as there were naturally competing claims for the same shot down aircraft. We claimed a Mirage V which had already been shaken up by a Seacat from ARGONAUT.

We volunteered to go out to standby and assist the stopped ARGONAUT. We were close to ARDENT being finished off, a very nasty sight, her crew being taken off by our sister ship YARMOUTH. We passed a tow to ARGONAUT but as she had a total power failure, the Captain decided that the tow would be too awkward in the crowded waters of San Carlos, so we secured her alongside, unexploded bombs and all, and moved into San Carlos. I boarded her with my catering team and we went round passing out food and hot drinks throughout the blackened and damaged ship. Our Damage Control team provided power from our own ship, and then got her Diesel Generators going, but her crew were very shell shocked. Overnight I had red lights rigged to light the upper deck area between the two ships, and prepared for a big breakfast for both crews. I had also – with her permission - found some of her real eggs!  (We’d had no eggs or NAAFI nutty for weeks – we’d been at the end of the supply lines for too long, and other ships had got there before us).

I also managed a couple of hours of sleep, my cabin being on the waterline beside one of her unexploded bombs, and very noisy with the creaking of the fenders.  I didn’t care.

I went on-board her again with my team, and we literally cajoled, pushed and shepherded her crew into coming on-board us. Their ship was still dark with temporary lighting here and there, plenty of damage all round and the contrast between our undamaged ship helped to bring their crew round. I have never seen such a change in morale, as they clambered dully on-board and left quite lively, our reassurance and what was for us normal cheerfulness, had a quite dramatic effect. They later gave us a brass sign for our Dining Room inscribed “For the ship who saved us” – this was perhaps a bit overdramatic but it had been a very interesting few hours. And we did enjoy the eggs for breakfast so the help was not all one way.

We later buried their two dead at sea, under red lights at night, with all appropriate ceremony, and two vicars. About 120 of us witnessed the burial, and it did bring home to us that people were actually being killed. But it also increased our determination.

PLYMOUTH went on to protect the shipping in San Carlos by day, and go out each night escorting ships out and in, and bombarding here and there. Some thoughtful people on the way down had not given us much chance, one describing us as old Ming, but in fact with the raids coming in without  using their radar, overflying West Falkland to find their way, our 4.5s etc. were ideal: the first warning was often the aircraft themselves swinging round from the northwest or south.  We had very high morale: and bad jokes. One busy day, the Seacat aimer commented “Never let a Dago by!”

We were eventually caught on our own in daylight out in the Sound, by six Mirage Daggers on their way to Bluff Cove – we were both surprised to see each other, but not surprised enough to stop us shooting down two of them, and being hit by four bombs and numerous cannon shells, from the rest. Luckily no-one was killed. Only one bomb actually went off, as it hit a very solid Depth Charge, which caused a big fire. When we’d got this out, we were repaired further out at sea, by Stena Seaspread: we’d been the most seriously damaged of any ship which didn’t actually sink. We volunteered and went back into action on the Gun Line (where GLAMORGAN had been hit by a lorry mounted Exocet a few days before) as we still had plenty of shells on-board, and we knew the 105s ashore were short of ammunition.  As we were preparing for our first call for fire, I heard on my flight deck headset, over the radio from ashore, “The white flags are going up!” – and they were.