It has been 36 years since I last went down south. The circumstance of the first visit was most unfortunate, I had expected, along with 250 other shipmates, to be heading East for a 26 country jolly (UK guard ship duties), ending at Sydney. We had got about halfway to Naples from Gibraltar when the skipper came on the tannoy at 22.30 to inform us of an Argentine invasion of the Falkland Islands. "Where? what? why are the Argies invading Scotland?".
We returned to Gib and re-armed, always expecting that we'd resume our Eastward jaunt. That is until Sheffield was hit by an Exocet, the second missile very nearly hitting my ship HMS Yarmouth. We knew the East was not going to happen, instead we helped burnt and bloodied colleagues survive the loss of Sheffield and a few days later took her undertow until she sank. The real irony is that Sheffield (the shiny Sheff) had just completed her six month Far East tour and we were to have had a handover at Naples. Sadly instead of relieving her homeward, Yarmouth relieved her to the grave.
To rub salt in the wounds Yarmouth was sent back in October-March '83 for the first winter patrols that have kept going ever since.
I was mightily pissed off. I held a grudge in my head that '82 denied me a wonderful opportunity to relish the Far East and indulge in Sailory type activities!
Last year I finally laid those nagging ghosts to rest by doing a short Eastern adventure with my wife and found I felt a relief and calmness inside. It had been eating at me all that time.
It was a bit 'ot out there and we both craved somewhere not quite as warm for the next adventure. Bring on David Attenborough and penguins on a natural world program.
I recalled that there was a possibility to return to the Falklands as a veteran and made inquiries. Sure enough in the background a whole support network exists (SAMA82, FVF), and I was able to make use of it and the fabulous accommodation they offered in Port Stanley. My wife, Wendy, traveled with permission of the Falkland Island Government Office (FIGO) in London for a fee of £1560 and we flew with the RAF (CRABS) out of Brize Norton.
The islands had changed dramatically from what my memory had told me. I recall cold, sleet, drab, wet, cold, cold and shite! Not the best of reasons to return I know. But now the place is developed, clean and soo friendly. I hadn't expected to be that touched by the kindness and the very first place we visited, the museum in Stanley, had me choked when the receptionist said " Please can I shake your hand, I was 8 years old in '82 and you gave me this life". Many more tears came (I'm welling up just typing this), over the two weeks as we visited many of the ship memorials and I recalled in my mind the horrors and tragedy of the loss of those young lives on both sides.
The place is massive, we used the domestic Islander flights to get to some remote spots and I was amazed at the space and extent of these islands, largely populated by sheep.
We had several off-road trips to very beautiful locations to see wildlife and it dawned on me for the first time how very difficult the terrain was, I didn't know being on a ship. How those Boot Necks and Pongos marched and battled over 90 miles is incredible, and in the middle of winter.
I met lots of locals that had been involved in '82 and listened to their stories which were very scary when your life has gone from sheep farming to occupation. The Argentine's were of the belief they were liberators and it came as a massive shock to them that they were not welcome.
The islands now have a thriving and profitable fishing & wool industry and are just embarking on oil extraction too. They have zero national debt and a comfortable (if not difficult), lifestyle.
I am pleased the conflict has not been frivolously wasted and that the islanders have made a success from the loss of life given on their behalf. I wish them well and now feel even more at ease with the troubling thoughts that have nagged me all these years.
Its worth a visit, its beautiful and its the way society should work.
