Scram! (18 page)

Back on
Antrim
, the sleepless Wessex crew had breakfast before coming up on deck for a surreal and stunning view
of
Fanning Head in daylight. It was a beautiful day with bright blue skies. There was not a breath of wind. Any tiredness was suppressed by the rush of adrenalin.

Yankee Charlie's job for the day was casualty evacuation – known as casevac. First they were to pick up Surgeon Commander Rick Jolly, their on-board medic for the day, from the assault ship
Fearless
. Almost immediately they were called to the San Carlos area to pick up a paratrooper who had slipped off the large and uneven Falkland tussock grass and jarred his back. He was put on a stretcher and taken back to
Fearless
.

While they were unloading on the flight deck of
Fearless
, they received new instructions from Tim Stanning's COMAW tasking group to go to the scene of a reported accident near Port San Carlos and pick up casualties. There was no mention of crashed Gazelles or enemy machine guns.

The Wessex flew east across the top of the settlement houses at Port San Carlos. A line of troops were marching across the fields below. ‘Kev, what are these troops doing marching abreast like this?' Heathcote asked Gleeson.

As a Royal Marine, Gleeson knew exactly what was going on.

‘What that means, Hector,' he replied calmly, ‘is that we've just crossed the Forward Edge of the Battle Area, the FEBA. We do not want to be here.'

At the same time, another aircraft called out that they had gone too far. The Wessex immediately swung into a tight turn away from the Argentine troops who were about to open fire for a third time. Crossing the Port San Carlos River, they saw the mangled heap of the second downed Gazelle and made a hurried landing next to it. Gleeson and medic Rick Jolly leapt out from the cabin and rushed over. The pilot, Lieutenant Ken Francis
RM
, was dead in the cockpit. His crewman, Lance Corporal Brett ‘Pat' Griffin RM, was also dead but appeared to be sitting against the side of the aircraft. Despite briefings not to return bodies to the ships, the two aircrew were lifted into the back of the Wessex. It seemed the least they could do. The Gazelle's machine gun and list of coded callsigns were also retrieved before they lifted off to return to
Canberra
. As they flew back, Gleeson mentioned in a matter-of-fact way to his astonished pilots that he had joined the Corps with Pat Griffin. After shutting down, the crew were warned not to bring any more bodies on board. It was not considered good for morale.

Almost immediately after landing, an urgent announcement on
Canberra
's tannoy warned of an incoming air raid. It was to signal the first of a dozen or so Argentine raids during the day through what became known as ‘Bomb Alley'. Summoned by warnings from Argentine commandos at Port San Carlos, the small Aeromacchi MB339 jet had arrived from Port Stanley airfield and initially set itself up to overfly Port San Carlos. But the pilot changed his mind in order to avoid the glare of the sun. Approaching from the north instead, he was about to open fire on an unsuspecting Lynx helicopter when he caught sight of what seemed to be the entire British fleet in front of him. He immediately attacked the first big target, the frigate HMS
Argonaut
, with rockets and cannon fire.

On board
Canberra
, Gleeson was quick to react, grabbing a machine gun and firing wildly from the hip as the aircraft passed low overhead. All of the Wessex crew then felt the warm blast of a handheld Blowpipe missile launched near the flight deck. Those on
Canberra
's deck cheered as the missile chased the aircraft before falling
disappointingly
short. The darting run by the Aeromacchi miraculously evaded a huge array of efforts to bring it down. It escaped back to Stanley after a second pass further away from the fleet. The pilot, Guillermo Crippa, was subsequently decorated for his bravery.

The crew of the Wessex were launched immediately to pick up casualties from
Argonaut
off Fanning Head. As they hovered behind the ship's boiling stern wake, Gleeson began to winch Rick Jolly down towards the deck. Suddenly they were waved off by the flight-deck crew as the words ‘Air raid warning red' came over the radio. Having winched Jolly back on board, the Wessex broke off to head as fast as possible to Fanning Head.

The first wave of Argentine jets from the mainland tore into the British fleet at low level from the north. In the space of some six minutes, eight Daggers and six A-4 Skyhawks threaded their way from Falkland Sound through the entrance to San Carlos Water, strafing some targets and bombing others. The destroyer HMS
Antrim
and frigates
Broadsword
and
Argonaut
took the brunt of the first attacks, surviving the initial raids with limited damage.
Argonaut
was less fortunate second time around, damaged critically by a series of bombs dropped by two flights of Skyhawks. She was subsequently towed into the shelter of San Carlos Water.

On the ground in the relative safety of a small gully, Mike Crabtree and Hector Heathcote had a bird's-eye view of the first major air raid of the war. They watched as an impressive line of cannon shells from the first group of Daggers raked the side of
Antrim
. Minutes later the crew watched two huge plumes of water erupt either side of HMS
Plymouth
several miles off in the distance as a Mirage flashed past before heading home across Falkland Sound. The thin white line of a Seawolf missile fired from
the
Type-22 frigate HMS
Broadsword
intercepted the Mirage. It disintegrated in a ball of fire.

Down below, in San Carlos Water, Simon Thornewill was flying Victor Alpha, another of the seven day-flying Sea Kings whose job was to get as much ammunition, men and stores from ship to shore as quickly as possible. His instinct when he saw the first jets screaming through the valley was to keep going. But bombs were exploding everywhere and it quickly became obvious that he would also have to find his own gully, if only to avoid the deluge of fire from his own ships. As if to confirm this, a 1,000-pound bomb exploded just yards ahead of them on the beach. The huge blast of water and dirt was sufficiently close to blow out the flimsy bubble windows in the back of his aircraft. ‘Too bloody close,' he thought, and headed for land.

Most of the other Sea King crews had already gone to ground. It was not so much that they were vulnerable to the Argentine attacks. Flying amongst the ships, even the biggest helicopters were unlikely to be much of a priority target to a highly strung fighter pilot focused on picking a target for his bombs within a few short seconds. It was the risk of getting in the way of the streams of machine-gun fire, rockets and missiles, pouring from the ships. Pilots tended to play it safe at first when an air raid warning was announced, going to ground early and lifting off late. But they soon began to feel their way for how to play this. More time spent on the ground meant less time available to unload ships.

On board
Antrim
, Ian Stanley's Wessex had been folded and moved off the flight deck in order that the maintainers could investigate a control fault. After finishing their
night-time
role to help insert the SBS team onto Fanning Head, the anti-submarine Wessex had reverted to normal pinging mode around the entrance to San Carlos Water. The task force commanders were still very nervous about the possibility of Argentine submarines. Other anti-submarine Sea Kings were out in Falkland Sound doing most of the search. The
Antrim
flight crew flattened themselves on the deck as the Daggers attacked. Ian Stanley was hit by small pieces of shrapnel in the finger and shoulder. One of his chiefs fared much worse, with wounds to the face. The aircraft was also spattered with cannon fire and associated debris.

Then came an enormous explosion from the rear of the flight deck as
Antrim
fired her rear-facing Seaslug missile in gash mode (‘gash' is naval slang for rubbish). Designed to knock out high-level Soviet intruders, the missile was of little use against low-level attacks. Nevertheless, it was assumed that the dramatic
whoosh
of smoke from a missile launch would deter an incoming attacker.

Seemingly undeterred, one of the Daggers successfully dropped its 1,000-pound bomb straight through
Antrim
's stern. The bomb bounced around inside the ship, coming to rest directly beneath the flight deck. Had it exploded anywhere near the Seaslug launch system that ran like a giant train set through the ship,
Antrim
would have peeled wide open. Instead the unexploded bomb set off small fires and left a huge bump in the flight deck.

This was the first of many Argentine bombs that failed to explode. A fuse prevents a bomb from exploding until it is well clear of the aircraft. The fuse is simply a small vane in the rear of each bomb that spins round in the wind and unthreads a screw. In attacking the ships so low, the bombs didn't have sufficient time to arm. This tiny detail
overlooked
by the Argentine air force undoubtedly saved many British ships and a great many more British lives.

Meanwhile down to the south of the San Carlos area, the SAS had been conducting a diversionary attack on the Argentine forces at Darwin, assisted by naval gunfire support from the Type-21 frigate HMS
Ardent
in Falkland Sound. From the six airworthy Argentine Pucaras on the nearby airstrip at Goose Green, two pairs of aircraft were briefed to search for British helicopters involved with the landings at San Carlos. Only one of the first pair actually launched, the other prevented by the naval shelling. This first airborne Pucara was shot down by a Stinger missile fired by an SAS trooper. Subsequent launches by Stinger against other aircraft were unsuccessful. The second pair of Pucaras was bounced by a trio of Sea Harriers from 801 Squadron led by Lieutenant Commander Nigel ‘Sharkey' Ward. The pilot of one Pucara ejected at low level after being strafed by Ward. The other Pucara escaped in low cloud back to Stanley. Later in the day the remaining two Pucaras from Goose Green also returned to Port Stanley. Two of these three remaining airworthy Pucaras were destroyed by air attacks and naval gunfire within the next few days.

By now, Mike Crabtree and the crew of Yankee Charlie had realised that spending too much time on the deck of
Canberra
waiting to be hit by an incoming air raid was a bad idea. So as the day progressed, they kept to the hills as much as possible and accepted most of their instructions over the radio. One such instruction was to return to the scene of their night insertion on Fanning Head in order to relieve the SBS troops of their Argentine prisoners and transfer them to
Canberra
. Having just had to recover the bodies of the Gazelle crew killed by the Argentine troops, there were very mixed emotions indeed about
allowing
Argentine soldiers from the same unit into the same cabin space.

Mike Crabtree landed the aircraft near the group of SBS and prisoners on top of the headland. He noticed that Mike Rose, SAS commanding officer, was standing with the SBS men. After loading four weary-looking prisoners into the cabin, Rose signalled for Kev Gleeson to come out from the aircraft.

In the cockpit of the Wessex, a terrible realisation suddenly dawned. The two pilots turned to look at each other and pointed down below. The four Argentines had been left completely alone in the back of the Wessex with a fully loaded cabin-mounted machine gun at their disposal. In their sights was the head of the SAS, their own aircrewman and several SBS troops. Not wishing to alert the Argentines to the opportunity, a frantic Mike Crabtree and Hector Heathcote waved fruitlessly at their aircrewman, who was by now poring over a map with Rose. Eventually, Kev Gleeson looked up and noticed the waving arms. He returned immediately to find the prisoners still slumped in the back. It was a surreal moment in a day that was full of them.

It was now late afternoon on 21 May and the Wessex was heading for a gulley as another air raid flashed through. By now the crew had worked out something of a routine whereby they would deliberately land with the right wheel slightly higher up the slope. With the rotor blades tilted upwards on the right-hand side of the aircraft, Gleeson had a clearer view of the action with his cabin-mounted machine gun. One particular gulley on Fanning Head allowed them a view both of the amphibious and auxiliary ships in San Carlos Water to the south-east and the warships out in Falkland Sound to the south-west.

As the Wessex waited on the ground, Gleeson pointed out to the right as several Mirage jets swooped in for a further attack. As Gleeson prepared to open fire on the leading jet with the gimpy, Rick Jolly could see the trailing aircraft detach itself from the group and head directly towards the Wessex. Brief flashes from the Mirage told him all he needed to know. The Wessex was about to be hit by cannon fire. With no time for warning, and not being plugged into the intercom at the time, his only thought was for self-preservation. He leapt from the cabin and made a run for it. As Jolly buried himself into a ditch, the Mirage launched its cannon attack on the Wessex and then banked away hard to continue with an attack on the British shipping further down the coast.

It soon became clear to the crew that they were missing something. Gleeson announced sardonically to his pilots: ‘Oh, the doc seems to have jumped out of the aircraft.' There had been no warning or explanation. Jolly had simply jumped out and run off before inexplicably diving headlong into a grassy ditch. Just as Gleeson added the afterthought ‘No idea why …' the ground all around the Wessex erupted into the air. Clods of earth and grass exploded violently up through the rotor blades, onto the windscreen and all around the aircraft. As the mud and debris settled, straggly bits of what looked like metal fibre floated slowly down. It looked suspiciously like chaff, the aluminium strips used for deflecting radar. ‘We've been shot at by our own bloody ships,' exclaimed Crabtree.