One Hundred Days Read online

  I have begun the book with the Sheffield because it gave me an opportunity to bring you right into the Operations Room with the men who formed our ‘Picket Line’ in the three Type 42 guided-missile destroyers, none of which survived the war unscathed. Also, it is important to have such a picture in your mind, as a backdrop of the dreadful reality of war, if you are to share the experience of the commander. Because he, above all, must act in the face of those realities, never taking counsel of his own worst fears.

  I cannot and do not pretend to know all that went on. Nor can I possibly do justice the inshore naval, amphibious and land force commanders and their operations. So I could never pretend to be giving you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I doubt I even knew as much as half of what went on in my own particular area of responsibility first hand – much less anyone else’s. But throughout the book we have picked out most of the key ingredients from many other sources: from friends, colleagues and, in some instances, from strangers who fought the war with me, in other ships, in other places, but nevertheless, with me.

  My story swings inevitably through the sagas of the weather, the sea conditions and sudden, intense, short-lived action, with its persistent reverberations, that kept the adrenalin flowing and rendered boredom a permanent outcast. Patrick and I have tried to make it real. We have tried not to exaggerate, and I have tried not to defend myself. If you do not think much of me at the end, that’s just another risk I have to take.

  Meanwhile we may as well take the plunge, get into some of those ‘dreadful realities’ I mentioned, and transport ourselves back to the cold grey waters off the Falkland Islands, May 1982 – watching, waiting, for the Argentinian missile strike we more or less knew was due, on this day.

  SANDY WOODWARD, April 1991

  PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

  In the preface to the first edition, published in 1991, I wrote that I did not want to try and write a formal history of the Falklands War, believing it to be too soon for that. In 2002, it is still too soon – there are many events and stories that may not yet be told for all sorts of good and perhaps not-so-good reasons. However I find I cannot just leave the first edition unamended, stuck in the mists of 1991, when so much more has emerged and been revealed since then.

  Sailing south in the April of 1982 I jotted down in my diary a phrase to help me plan ahead: ‘What is it today, that tomorrow, I will wish I had done yesterday?’ Sadly, there seem to be many things concerned with the battle for the Falklands which fall into that category now that it is already the ‘tomorrow’ of twenty years later. No doubt, we could all have done better, had we known better, at the time. The same may be said of the historiography of the war and our first accounts of the events, as we saw them. Amongst these there were groups who, though satisfied at the overall outcome, were variously distressed at the way the outcome was achieved. Some were very much justified: at the top of that list are all those who lost relatives and friends, and those who were disabled. Lower down that list, other areas of anxiety existed, unknown to me, two of which can come under the heading of ‘professional contention’.

  It was only when I read the accounts of my two fellow Commander Task Groups (CTGs) for instance, after the publication of my own book, that I realized that serious contention between us existed – such reports as I previously had, I put down to the normal behaviour of the press and/or the natural ’exuberance’ of the time, often recorded in personal diaries. It was also only then I realized I had failed to share with them many of the factors which drove my decisions, both at the time and in the first edition. Had I been aware of their concerns, I would have taken more care to examine the causes of them, to explain, even justify their dissatisfactions in my book.

  Now that I have been able to read and reread their accounts, I have tried, in this second edition, to reduce the level and range of contention between us, the three front-line CTGs; myself, the Battle Group Commander; Commodore Michael Clapp, the Amphibious Group Commander; and Brigadier Julian Thompson, the Landing Group Commander – and have incorporated their comments and perspectives into this revised account. But I still cannot possibly know even half of what went on in my own Battle Group, much less any one else’s. This can only be another short step towards clarifying those ‘professional contentions’ on the way to what may come to be written as ‘definitive history’ many years ahead.

  However, several matters can only be covered in a new preface since they would cause major distortion of the run of the book. Firstly, a personal apology: the quote from a letter by Field Marshal Lord Bramall on the first edition flysheet was gravely offensive to the Amphibious Group. It was a direct quote, but it was incorrectly informed. It should be made quite clear that the choice of San Carlos as the landing place was a corporate decision, and most certainly could never be claimed as my own. The decision was governed primarily by amphibious considerations, but there were many non-amphibious factors of considerable importance. The final decision between all the various, often conflicting inputs lay with the Task Force Commander, the Commander-in-Chief, at his headquarters in Northwood, the only place where all the factors could be balanced. The quote should not have been used. I unreservedly apologize for letting this through the net.

  Secondly, and as a lead-in to several other matters, the Task Force command structure – known as the Task Organization – in the South Atlantic proved to be a major concern for the Amphibious and the Landing Group commanders, and was consequently discussed at some length in both their books, No Picnic by Julian Thompson and Amphibious Assault Falklands, which Mike Clapp co-wrote with Ewen Southby-Taylor a Royal Marine major. Both books are of high quality and make essential reading for students of the campaign. But like my own, neither should be taken as Gospel when they comment on other commanders’ business. Both Mike and Julian told me that they had deliberately avoided reading my account before writing their own for fear of it influencing their opinions. That is entirely understandable – my own opinions have certainly now been influenced by their books – as will readily be seen. This is how history is written and is a reminder that individual first-hand accounts of any event, taken in isolation, can be misleading.

  But it does suggest that their judgements of events and people outside their own immediate experience should be taken strictly as their opinions of the time, not as objective post-event analysis. This judgement must include my own book, of course. Mike’s book, excellent in almost every way and illuminating in its detailed account of Amphibious Group business, is notable also for singling out colleagues and superiors as occasional targets for criticism without telling his readers whether the opinion given was culled from his direct memories and records of the time, or given with the benefit of hindsight, made unemotionally with many later ‘facts’ available to hand. Where their criticisms are quoted directly from diaries, I have no complaint – we all let ourselves go in diaries, it’s what diaries are for, I believe; but they are worth some comment from me. I have tried here to present the extra information needed for a balanced assessment of the criticisms which they have made with a degree of hindsight. It has been a learning process for me, extending right up to the present day.

  Some of Mike’s criticisms appear to be born of his perception of the command structure issue. Others, particularly Julian’s, stem from our meeting in mid-April. It is my aim to distinguish between their recorded impressions and my own understanding in the light of all the evidence available so far. Thus I hope these matters may be put to rest. But let me say that these misapprehensions are good examples that the well-tried phrase – the ‘fog of war’ – was plainly alive and kicking in the war of 1982.

  War-fighting is an exceptionally intense activity, totally engrossing to those involved. Command in war is governed in high measure by communications facilities, and the management and interpretation of the information which is their product. However good, no commander in war has instant and complete knowledge of what is going on. Modern electroni
c communications (even video links, not available in 1982) remain imperfect, despite major improvements in the technology. There is still nothing to equal routine workaday face-to-face communication to resolve most problems – provided always that important points discussed are recorded and disseminated to all others who need to know.

  One result of less than total intercommunication is that command centres become like islands occupied by close associates. Within each such centre, the combination of isolation, intensity of work, abundant adrenalin and stress, and the comradeship such pressures can generate, may create insular states of corporate mind. The malady is commonplace and it certainly affected all Falklands campaign headquarters, which includes all ships, and all the various centres of command, right down to gallant corporals in the land forces ashore. Mike and Julian, indeed, record some of the stresses between each other and their own people, even though their staffs were co-located in HMS Fearless until after the landings took place.

  War is fought by a matrix of such teams. They all strive for the common objective, provided that has been clearly established to all. Without a clearly stated objective, the chances of success become less likely. It is important to remember that such common objective, ‘to repossess the Falklands’, was only finally established and fully promulgated on 12 May 1982, nearly six weeks after the operation was put in train, some twelve days after the Battle Group had ‘re-started the war’ and just eight days before the actual landing. Small wonder that different perceptions between the front-line commanders continued until that date.

  The disparity of perception between command centres, great and small, was aggravated by poor communications and the pace of events. Substantially different pictures developed for each in the different areas of action, and only with lulls and the passage of time can the complete picture emerge. There were also elements of information which were shared only between certain commanders and command centres. This was usually because conversations between different commanders or staffs, even when intended to convey common information, took different paths, or were not fully recorded or sufficiently widely shared. Whenever required and if time permits, therefore, staff should follow up with hard copy signals which record conclusions and actions, effectively the minutes of all such conversations. Any organization that fails to observe this basic management habit is heading for danger; the ‘fog of war’ can descend here, as everywhere. But ignore it, we did, from time to time, as is now all too apparent.

  So we in the South Atlantic suffered our ration of such fog. This has led some, who wish to find dissension among us, to fuel a sad culture of implicit distrust, even mutual disloyalty, between groups of the Task Force, perhaps in hope of retaining some newsworthiness up to the present day.

  The amphibious commanders had good reason for their opinions of the time on the command organization. There were many sources and clues on the subject which, taken individually, did not all point in the same direction. The first four are quotes from Mike’s book. The last clue is my own experience, not available to either of them until I had read their books and realized the need to try and reconcile the widely differing perceptions:

  a) ‘The first formal Task Organization signal originated by the CTF in Northwood [2/4/82] showed us, all four, as Commanders Task Units (CTU’s), Battle Group (Rear Admiral Woodward), South Georgia Group (Captain Young), Amphibious Group (Commodore Clapp) and Landing Group (Brigadier Thompson) – all at the same level, but with me doubling as the Commander Task Group (CTG) to whom the CTU’s report. As CTG, I would report to the Task Force Commander (CTF). This is a common enough formula, suitable for the initial operational plan, such as it was, up to mid April and perhaps, thereafter until the arrival of General Moore.’

  b) ‘This was overtaken by a second formal Task Organization signal [10/4/82] which showed us, all four, at the same level of command eg as CTG’s. The CTG for South Georgia reverted to my TG on his return to the Battle Group after the S Georgia operation had been successfully completed.’

  c) ‘The outline plan for Operation Sutton, the Landing Plan, had me down as “The Commander Combined Task Force.”’

  d) ‘A formal amplifying signal to b. above, specifically described me as being the “Senior Task Group Commander” in the South Atlantic, without defining precisely what that actually meant.’

  e) ‘The Commander-in-Chief’s Fleet staff, from Admiral Fieldhouse personally downwards, often but by no means always, seemed to treat me as the front-line Area Commander, at least until the time General Jeremy Moore went ashore in late May and after he left in late June. Indeed, at one stage, the C-in-C personally told me to go ashore and order the Landing Group Commander to advance out of the beachhead. I refused to do so, telling him it was neither within my competence nor my authority, but that’s another story.’

  It should be remembered that once the Amphibious Group started its final approach to the landings at San Carlos, my most important task was to try to provide whatever Mike and Julian and their staffs might require and call for. But at the same time, my Battle Group had to ensure that our overall dominance of the Falklands area – land, sea and air – though it could never be absolute, remained adequate to maintain us all in the South Atlantic for an indefinite period. That period extended several months beyond the completion of any land battle itself. To this end, I had the broader strategic, tactical and logistic considerations to reconcile and plan – indeed my Group was the ultimate shield for our forces in San Carlos and deploying forward from the beachhead. I believe I was also in closer (but still less than complete) touch than Mike and Julian with at least some of the overlying issues, as seen by the Commander-in-Chief, the Ministry of Defence and the Prime Ministers War Cabinet. I, like Mike, did not consciously think too much about it at the time. We strove, within our apparent responsibilities, to do whatever seemed necessary as best we could and to keep each other appropriately informed. Usually, following an important and necessarily one-to-one conversation on the secure satellite telephone (DSSS) with Mike, for instance, I would follow up with a confirmatory hard-copy signal for those who would need to act in accordance with what we had agreed and as a check that we had properly understood each other on that ‘strangled duck’ machine. On other rare occasions, events seemed to require me to ensure that my Group’s interests were fully kept in mind by those uncomfortably busy inshore. There were additionally whole sectors of information, important to my broader horizons and decisions, which, since they only impinged marginally on the Amphibious and Landing Groups’ activities, were not shared by me with those already engaged in the battle inshore and on shore. The fog pervaded throughout, often leading to unhappy tensions.

  The timing and manner of Hermes boiler cleaning is a noteworthy example. Had I shared my long-term carrier roulement problems with Mike in detail, he would not have been so critical, at least the fog would have thinned. The outcome would have been the same, but without the aggravation.

  My two colleagues both record taking strong exception to my attitude towards them at our first meeting in Fearless, the circumstances of which I have now enlarged on in this edition. It was only on reading their books that I became aware of the strength of their feelings, the very intensity of which distresses me on several counts. We all have our faults, but mine did not include any failure at any time to support them to the utmost of my ability and, while I could not presume to try and tell their stories, I hope I gave them due credit for their eminent successes. Those who know me better, for instance, would scarcely tease me for a tendency to ‘clear my yardarm’, as does Mike more than once, in comment on some of my signals sent as ‘Minutes’ of our DSSS conversations. ‘Yardarm clearing’ is a serious accusation in naval terms. It is described in Commander Rick Jolly’s entertaining and scholarly lexicon of naval usage, Jackspeak, as ‘the process of taking precautionary steps to ensure that no blame will attach if something goes wrong’. While my CTF’s report of his conversation with the Defence Secretary, John Nott, made it
all too clear where any major ‘blame’ would attach, this was no motivation for any of my signals. But fog of war was of course, the true culprit at the time.

  Mike’s belief in ‘coequality’ at the CTG level also appears to have been a contributor to his concerns. But any concept of strict ‘coequality’ makes poor sense in the front line: a committee meeting of equals is unlikely to reach any agreed decision in the required timescale, particularly if sheer geography makes the meeting an impossibility in the first case. ‘Flexible interdependence’ would be a better phrase than some ritual, arbitrary ‘coequality’. They gave the appropriate lead down there on Amphibious and Land force matters: I, with a lot of help from specialist advisers, gave the lead down there on just about everything else. All three of us had inputs to each others’ specialist areas. But at least we all agreed on the fundamentals of this matter. Someone was required to be officially ‘in charge’ in the South Atlantic.

  At the simplest possible level of argument and completely separate from the Falklands situation we faced, I was a Two Star officer and they were both One Star, until General Moore arrived. It would follow that barring specific instructions to the contrary from higher authority, ‘coequality’ did not exist. But that is much too simple. Priorities between commanders at similar levels with similar tasks are bound to vary with time and event, even if co-located. It is almost a sine qua non that someone is placed in authority over them if only as the local arbitrator. Whether an overall commander down south should have been me, or a Three Star officer appointed over me or in my place, or even in place of COMAW, remains an open question. The fact remains that no such Three Star was so appointed. The CTF probably thought that b and d, above, sufficiently met the requirements of the situation, but clearly Mike did not – he remains a firm believer that ‘coequality’ was in force. And the end result was that he frequently found my signals, comments and advice on what he considered to be strictly his personal and coequal business to be insufficiently sympathetic or supportive, too yardarm squaring or excessively directive according to the mood of the moment. But he could know very little about the pressures driving me to comment on our mutual business, nor how I tried, at all times, to avoid doing so.