Christopher Hilton - Ordinary Heroes: Untold Stories from the Falklands Campaign

Front Cover Photograph: Royal Marines wait to go on patrol from Ajax Bay during the Falklands Conflict in 1982. ( Adrian Brown/Alamy)

O ne of the enduring myths of the Falklands War is that of underage Argentine soldiers being committed to an unequal battle; the implication being that the British servicemen were so much older, and hence better. That is why the Argentines were defeated. It is, of course, a face-saving myth propagated to explain why they lost, and reminds one of the age-old childish gripe it isnt fair. In fact, no Argentine soldier was conscripted before his 18th birthday, and many were well over 18 because they were not plucked off the street the moment they reached that age, but drafted in batches. So by the time an Argentine soldier was shipped to the Falklands, having completed training, he was around 18 years old. At least one of the regiments who served in the Falklands was made up of Argentine conscripts who had had their service extended for the operation and were over 19.

Yes, the British were better, but not because they were older we shall return to that. The two youngest British soldiers to be killed were just 17. Several British marines and paratroopers celebrated their 17th birthday on the journey south. Every single one was a volunteer, along with the rest of his comrades.

This book is special because it consists exclusively of contributions by men who were the equivalent of private soldiers at the time ordinary seamen, marines and the like. Not one of them was even as elevated as a lance-corporal. This is important because the popular image of the armed services is of a pyramid. At the top is the general or admiral sitting on a base consisting of myriad junior folk. In reality, one should view the armed services as a collection of inverted pyramids, each point being an individual without whom the battle would not be won: a sailor, marine or soldier. The best-laid plans and the cleverest generals and admirals are not sufficient by themselves. They need people to win the battle for them. This book contains accounts by those that did just that. They won it because they were better, not because they were British and not Argentine. They were professionals, better trained and hence better motivated. I was once asked why we won. I said there were three reasons: training, training and training.

All of the British servicemen who took part in the Falklands War were thrown in at the deep end, metaphorically speaking. There were no plans to retake the Falkland Islands in the event of an Argentine invasion. There were two reasons for this: first, the British Government, and the Foreign & Commonwealth Office in particular, believed that the Argentines were bluffing and would not invade; and second, about six months before the proverbial hit the fan the Ministry of Defence had come to the conclusion that retaking the islands was impossible. This is well documented in the British official history of the war.

When the Argentines did invade, the box marked Mission Impossible was opened and the British armed forces were invited to see if they could prove this assumption was incorrect. The task was only possible because of the professionalism, skill and courage of the people who appear in the pages of this book, and thousands more like them.

Readers today may wonder at the differences between the conditions in which this war was fought and todays conflicts. There were no emails or mobile telephones. Mark Hiscutt of HMS Sheffield had to write to his fiance: Not coming home. Cancel the wedding. Lots of love. Mark. He was not allowed to say why his ship was suddenly not going back to England from Gibraltar but steaming off 180 degrees in the other direction. He was not alone: there were thousands like him. Once deployed no-one could communicate with home other than by mail. As the Task Force approached the Falklands, mail for home was often deliberately delayed to ensure that no secrets were inadvertently betrayed the alternative being to censor letters.

The handling of the media was poor. The news about the Sheffield being hit was on the TV well before any next of kin were informed. This was not an isolated case. Newspapers and mail arrived episodically. There was no satellite TV. Everyone down south lived in a bubble, cut off from the outside world.

If you were in a ship you might be drier and better fed than your opposite number ashore, but your end could be swift, violent and while it lasted extremely unpleasant: cut off alone in a burning compartment, or battened down below in a sinking ship, with no chance of getting out. When ships were hit, casualties were usually heavy; many dead, many with horrific burns.

A marine or soldier ashore faced cold, injuries, hunger, fatigue and broken bones caused by the unforgiving weather and terrain, all without the enemy lifting a finger. He would be invited to assault the enemy, and patrol, often at night. Having eventually arrived on his objective, he might be shelled for several days and nights, existing on short rations because his rucksack had not arrived, shivering in the cold because his sleeping bag was in his rucksack, and glad of captured Argentine blankets. The helicopters were too busy carrying ammunition. Soldiers in rear areas were subject to the attentions of the Argentine air force, and lived in holes like their fellows nearer the enemy. Napoleon knew what he was talking about when he said the first quality of a soldier is fortitude in enduring fatigue and hardship: bravery but the second.

Nobody knew when it would end. There was no tour length as in Afghanistan, Iraq or Northern Ireland. It would end when it ended.

One of the greatest remedies in time of danger and doubt is humour. The British services are renowned for their black humour. David Buey, on being picked out of the water by HMS Alacrity after the Atlantic Conveyor was hit, asked a sailor how Tottenham Hotspur had got on in the Cup Final against Queens Park Rangers. If Id known you were a Tottenham fan, I would have thrown you back, replied the Alacrity sailor.

Some of the contributors are suffering from, or have experienced, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). This is a condition about which too little is known even today. At the time of the Falklands War, thirty years ago, a great deal less was known about it, or, more correctly, a great deal that had been learned in the Second World War and Korea had been forgotten. In the 1970s and early 1980s PTSD was popularly thought to be something that happened to Americans in Vietnam. The British forces medical services were apparently unaware of the work being done in Australia on their veterans returning from Vietnam; and, if they were, they were not interested nothing was done. There were no arrangements in place to cope with PTSD at the time of the Falklands War. Now service people returning from a war zone are put through a period of decompression; then there was no such thing, except by chance. Those that came back in ships together with their mates on a voyage that averaged three weeks were better off than those who were evacuated by air from Montevideo, having been taken there by hospital tender from the battle area. Those that came back with strangers, and flew part of the way, to be decanted straight into the midst of their families, were more prone to PTSD. They suffered, as did their families.

Fortunately, a British psychiatrist, Surgeon Commander Morgan OConnell, RN, who had accompanied the medical teams in SS Canberra, understood what was happening, and did something about it. He started treating Royal Navy personnel who showed symptoms of PTSD, and the Royal Navy became the first British service to recognise it as a condition and treat it. The others have now followed suit.