Mark Aston - SAS: Sea King Down

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First published by Michael Joseph in 2021

Copyright Mark Aston and Stuart Tootal, 2021

The moral right of the authors has been asserted

Images Getty and Shutterstock

Inset picture credits: , bottom right, Antony Bysouth.

Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologizes for any errors or omissions and would be grateful to be notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future editions of this book.

ISBN: 978-1-405-94262-1

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For those warriors that did not make it home.

We are but warriors for the working day; our gayness and our gilt are all besmirchd.

Henry V, Act 4, Scene 3, by William Shakespeare

There are numerous people who played a role in the writing of this book and we wish to express our gratitude to a variety of individuals who were so willing to give up their time to help make it possible. We are particularly grateful to generals Sir Mike Rose and Sir Cedric Delves who provided extremely helpful guidance and information, which assisted in the compiling of this account of D Squadrons story, and placed it at the more granular tactical level. Admiral Chris Parry also deserves special mention although a more junior officer at the time, he was another one who was there. As a member of the aircrew that flew in the valiant Wessex helicopter called Humphrey, which saved the lives of Mountain Troop in South Georgia, Chris also imparted valuable input regarding the general context of naval and aviation operations at the time.

Our thanks also go to a host of other individuals who kept us right on the relevant details of other maritime and aviation matters. As former serving subject-matter practitioners and experts: Mike Evans, Charlie Wilson and Bob Iveson provided a mass of important information regarding Sea King helicopter operations, amphibious ships and Harrier jet sorties respectively. Martin Reed and Suzie West must also be thanked for the help they provided from their experiences of being part of the remarkable crew on board the SS Canberra during the conflict. Likewise, as a naval officer on HMS Endurance at the time, Andrew Lockett provided a wealth of information regarding Operation Paraquet, which was supplemented by the explorer Neil Laughton who has retraced Shackletons steps and supplied much helpful data regarding the nature and characteristics of the Fortuna Glacier. We also owe a debt of gratitude to Dave Morris, who as the senior aircraft curator at the Fleet Air Arm Museum in Yeovilton, devoted a huge amount of his time in providing useful points of research and allowing us to access several exhibits that flew in the conflict and were part of this story.

Danny West and Roger Edwards, who were part of D Squadron during the conflict also deserve our thanks. Additionally, we want to express our gratitude to Roger and his wife Norma, for the hospitality and kindness they showed to us when we visited the Falkland Islands as part of writing this book. Other members of the Squadron who contributed their thoughts and views are also worthy of mention. Although, out of respect for their wishes they will remain anonymous, but they know who they are. The one exception is Bilbo, who kept a diary of his time down south and was generous enough to make parts of it available to us. Our appreciation extends to individual family members of some of those who lost their lives, as well as the women in our lives, Mandy and Sasha, not least for the many hours that we were absent from them when engrossed in conversation and travelling together as we conducted our research.

As ever, acting as our agent, Phil Patterson was always there providing unbounded enthusiasm and encouragement for the project, while lending his exceptional eye for detail and guidance from the impressive breadth of his own knowledge. Finally, we would like to thank Rowland White and his team at Penguin for having faith in us and bringing this story alive in published form.

I felt my breathing heavy in my lungs and throat, my leg muscles aching with the effort of it as I pushed higher up towards the stony outcrop of Shag Rocks. It was harder back then, when we had been burdened by weapons and the heavy kit that we carried as we laboured through the dark, our feet stumbling over rocks and among the clumps of grass and heathery scrub. Now I was loaded with the weight of advancing years and the effects of a long flight across thousands of miles of the South Atlantic.

The incessant wind blew hard in my face from across the empty sea in the west, just as it did before, although it was night-time then and a different season. The sun warmed the back of my neck, and I felt the first trickle of sweat as I crested the rocky bluff that stood proud from the rest of the coastline. The sea was a brilliant aqua blue below me down to my left, the sunlight sparkling off the gentle swell of the waves, no longer whipped by the fury of the storm we had faced that night. I caught my breath as I reached the top and, looking inland, I saw it.

The settlement lay a few miles off in the distance of the lower ground, its buildings discernible as a cluster of small white dots nestling among the dark smudges of gorse bushes, with the slight dash of an orange windsock just visible as it flapped in the breeze on its eastern edge. Beyond it lay the target. As I gazed across the open ground in front of me, taking in the marshy ponds and the mountains in the background, the detail of it all came flooding back to me as if it was yesterday.