The Downing Street Years, 1979-1990

From the beginning of May through to the recapture of the Falklands in mid-June military considerations loomed ever larger in my mind. But this did not mean that the pressure for negotiations eased — far from it. I was under an almost intolerable pressure to negotiate for the sake of negotiation and because so many politicians were desperately anxious to avoid the use of force — as if the Argentinians had not already used force by invading in the first place. At such a time almost everything and everyone seems to combine to deflect you from what you know has to be done.

Yet I could never afford to ignore the diplomatic effort because on its successful conduct rested our hard-won position of UN Security Council support for Resolution 502 and, still more important, the degree of support we might receive from our allies, above all the United States. And all this time there was constant, nagging fear of the unknown. Would we have sufficient air cover? Where were the Argentine submarines? Would we be able to reach the military and diplomatic position required for a successful landing within that narrow time-frame set by the onset of intolerable winter weather in the South Atlantic?

Over breakfast at Milton Hall I received a telephone call to say that our Vulcans had bombed the runway of Port Stanley airport. Our naval task force was also bombarding Argentine positions elsewhere on the Falklands. I was told that there had so far been no British casualties but it would still be many hours before the Vulcans — after their marathon flight involving five mid-air refuellings — would be back at Ascension Island. In fact they all returned safely. The refuelling seemed a stupendous feat at the time, although such is the way of things that later performances of this kind came almost to be taken for granted.

That day the Argentine Air Force mounted a major attack on our ships. The Argentinians were in a position to send photographs to the outside world, which we were not. They claimed that many of our aeroplanes had been shot down but in that famous broadcast Brian Hanrahan, the excellent BBC correspondent, put the record straight when he reported: ‘I counted them all out and I counted them all back.’ It was a great relief. But we had no illusions about the significance of the heavy attack and the vital question it raised about the sufficiency of our air cover.

The next day, Sunday, which I spent at Chequers, was one of great — though often misunderstood — significance for the outcome of the Falklands War. As often on Sundays during the crisis, the members of the War Cabinet, Chiefs of Staff and officials came to Chequers for lunch and discussions. On this occasion there was a special matter on which I needed an urgent decision.

I called together Willie Whitelaw, John Nott, Cecil Parkinson, Michael Havers, Terry Lewin, Admiral Fieldhouse and Sir Antony Acland, the Permanent Secretary at the Foreign Office. (Francis Pym was in America.) Admiral Fieldhouse told us that one of our submarines, HMS Conqueror, had been shadowing the Argentine cruiser, General Belgrano. The Belgrano was escorted by two destroyers. The cruiser itself had substantial fire power provided by 6 guns with a range of 13 miles and anti-aircraft missiles. We were advised that she might have been fitted with Exocet anti-ship missiles, and her two destroyer escorts were known to be carrying them. The whole group was sailing on the edge of the Exclusion Zone. We had received intelligence about the aggressive intentions of the Argentine fleet. There had been extensive air attacks on our ships the previous day and Admiral Woodward, in command of the task force, had every reason to believe that a full-scale attack was developing. The Argentine aircraft carrier, the 25 de Mayo, had been sighted some time earlier and we had agreed to change the rules of engagement to deal with the threat she posed. However, our submarine had lost contact with the carrier, which had slipped past it to the north. There was a strong possibility that Conqueror might also lose contact with the Belgrano group. Admiral Woodward had to come to a judgement about what to do with the Belgrano in the light of these circumstances. From all the information available, he concluded that the carrier and the Belgrano group were engaged in a classic pincer movement against the task force. It was clear to me what must be done to protect our forces, in the light of Admiral Woodward’s concern and Admiral Fieldhouse’s advice. We therefore decided that British forces should be able to attack any Argentine naval vessel on the same basis as agreed previously for the carrier.

Later we approved reinforcements for the Falklands which would be taken there in the QE2. It surprised me a little that the need for reinforcements had not been clear sooner. I asked whether it was really necessary or advisable to use this great ship and to put so many people in it, but as soon as I was told that it was necessary to get them there in time I gave my agreement. I was always concerned that we would not have sufficient men and equipment when the time came for the final battle and I was repeatedly struck by the fact that even such highly qualified professionals as advised us often underestimated the requirements. We broke up still desperately worried that the aircraft carrier which could have done such damage to our vulnerable task force had not been found.

The necessary order conveying the change of rules of engagement was sent from Northwood to HMS Conqueror at 1.30 p.m. In fact, it was not until after 5 p.m. that Conqueror reported that she had received the order. The Belgrano was torpedoed and sunk just before 8 o’clock that evening. Our submarine headed away as quickly as possible. Wrongly believing that they would be the next targets, the Belgrano’s escorts seem to have engaged in anti-submarine activities rather than rescuing its crew, some 321 of whom were lost — though initially the death toll was reported to be much higher. The ship’s poor state of battle readiness greatly increased the casualties. Back in London we knew that the Belgrano had been hit, but it was some hours before we knew that she had sunk.

A large amount of malicious and misleading nonsense was circulated at the time and long afterwards about the reasons why we sank the Belgrano. These allegations have been demonstrated to be without foundation. The decision to sink the Belgrano was taken for strictly military not political reasons: the claim that we were trying to undermine a promising peace initiative from Peru will not bear scrutiny. Those of us who took the decision at Chequers did not at that time know anything about the Peruvian proposals, which in any case closely resembled the Haig plan rejected by the Argentinians only days before. There was a clear military threat which we could not responsibly ignore. Moreover, subsequent events more than justified what was done. As a result of the devastating loss of the Belgrano, the Argentine Navy — above all the carrier — went back to port and stayed there. Thereafter it posed no serious threat to the success of the task force, though of course we were not to know that this would be so at the time. The sinking of the Belgrano turned out to be one of the most decisive military actions of the war.

However, the shocking loss of life caused us many problems because it provided a reason — or in some cases perhaps an excuse — for breaks in the ranks among the less committed of our allies: it also increased pressure on us at the UN. The Irish Government called for an immediate meeting of the Security Council, though after intense pressure from Tony Parsons and some from the UN Secretary-General, they were eventually persuaded to suspend their request — not, however, before the Irish Defence minister had described us as ‘the aggressor’. There was some wavering from the French and rather more from the West Germans, who pressed for a cease-fire and UN negotiations. Moreover, by the time of the sinking of the Belgrano, the diplomatic scene was already becoming more difficult and complicated.

I have already mentioned the peace plan which the President of Peru had put to Al Haig and which he in turn had put to Francis Pym in Washington on 1 and 2 May, though we had no sight of it until later. With the sinking of the Belgrano, Mr Haig was once again bringing pressure to bear, urging on us diplomatic magnanimity and, expressing his belief that whatever the course of the military campaign there must be a negotiated outcome to avoid open-ended hostility and instability. To add to the confusion, the UN Secretary-General was now seeking to launch a peace initiative of his own, much to the irritation of Mr Haig.

WEEK SIX

Both military and diplomatic pressures now mounted. On Tuesday 4 May the destroyer HMS Sheffield was hit by an Argentine Exocet missile with devastating effects. The loss of the Sheffield was the result of a number of mishaps and mistakes, but it was a terrible demonstration of the risks our forces faced. The Sheffield was a relatively old ship, with outdated radar: it was transmitting via satellite to London moments before the missile struck, interfering with its capacity to detect the attack sufficiently in advance to throw up chaff as a decoy. Also the fire doors were open and, as we learnt from the raging fire that followed the missile impact, there was too much aluminium in the structure. Although the ship did not sink at first, it proved impossible due to the rough seas to bring it back home, as I had wished, and eventually she went down. At first I was told that there were 20 casualties: then 40.

It was very difficult to know how to announce this sort of news. We would have liked to inform all next of kin first, and indeed sought to do so. But meanwhile the Argentinians would be putting out statements — some true, some false but all with a deliberate purpose — before we knew the real facts. As a result, wives and families spent some agonizing days and nights. That day we also lost one of our Harriers.

By this stage Francis Pym had returned from the United States. We did not like the US/Peruvian proposals he brought with him and sought to have important changes made, above all to ensure that the wishes of the islanders were respected. Al Haig, however, would not accept our changes or pass them to the Peruvians because he believed that the Argentinians would reject them out of hand. I received a message from President Reagan urging us to make further compromise.

On the morning of Wednesday 5 May I called first the War Cabinet and then the full Cabinet to consider the US/Peruvian proposals. Francis Pym believed that in view of the battle in the South Atlantic it would be damaging to reject what were in effect Al Haig’s proposals. Moreover, as I have noted, the countries of the European Community which had been very strong at first were beginning to weaken in their support. The sanctions which they had agreed were only for a month and there would be difficulty in getting everyone to approve their renewal.

I was deeply unhappy about the US/Peruvian proposals. Cabinet did not like them much either. But we had to make some response. I wanted to ensure that any interim administration would consult the islanders and that their wishes should be respected in the long-term settlement. I also wanted South Georgia and the other Falklands dependencies to be outside the scope of the proposals. Cabinet was firm about these objectives. We agreed to seek changes to meet them and in this we were successful.

I did not like this constant pressure to weaken our stance. I drafted a personal letter to President Reagan that revealed perhaps too much of my frustration, though I toned it down before it was sent. But I took comfort from the fact that I had never believed that the Argentine Junta would be prepared to withdraw on these or any other terms — and indeed the Argentinians turned down the US/Peruvian proposals. Attention now increasingly shifted to the proposals of the UN Secretary-General. The Argentinians sent their Foreign minister to New York. They hoped to capitalize on the sympathy they had gained as a result of the sinking of the Belgrano and their spirits had been lifted by the destruction of the Sheffield. There was no lack of candidates to suggest new ‘initiatives’ — not the least surprising or impractical of which was the suggestion of President López-Portillo that I should have a private meeting with General Galtieri in Mexico. But I was not going to sell out the islanders and I knew that the Argentine Junta could not withdraw and survive. Obviously there was little prospect of a diplomatic ‘breakthrough’, yet still the apparently endless negotiations continued.

Tony Parsons defended Britain’s position at the UN with great force and brilliance. The Argentinians were clearly determined to get the maximum propaganda advantage in the new discussions sponsored by the UN Secretary-General. He warned Sr. Perez de Cuellar of our past experiences of trying to deal with the Junta. The Secretary-General could expect that agreements apparently satisfactory to Argentine representatives would then be disowned by the Junta and that the Argentinians were intent on establishing sovereignty as a precondition of any settlement.

I was not prepared to hold up military progress for negotiations. We were all aware that we were coming to a critical period. If we were to land and repossess the islands it would have to be done some time between 16 and 30 May. We could not leave it later because of the weather. That meant that negotiations at the UN must be completed within ten days or so. If they were successful and our principles and minimum requirements were met, well and good. If not, or they were still dragging on, then — if the Chiefs of Staff so advised — we would have to go ahead.

I had mixed feelings about the negotiations. I shared the desire to avoid a further bloody conflict. I spoke about this to Tony Parsons on the telephone on Saturday 8 May. I asked Tony to tell the Secretary-General that we would be pleased to welcome him in London. I went on:

However, as the negotiations with the Argentinians in Washington continued it became ever more evident that they were not prepared to make the concessions we required. They were determined to include South Georgia and the dependencies. They wanted to deny the islanders any proper means of expressing their views during the interim period. They were pressing for the complete withdrawal of the British task force to its bases in the UK — which, now that the battle for the Falklands had begun, was of course even more unacceptable than it had been before. They also wanted to be able to move in their own people and acquire property so as to change the whole terms of the argument. It was clear that the negotiations would fail. We must ensure that when they did so the Argentinians did not manage to shift the blame on to us. Ideally, we should bring them to a definite conclusion before the landings took place. An ultimatum was obviously necessary.

On Sunday afternoon at Chequers (9 May) our regular meeting reviewed the diplomatic and military scene. We discussed the state of the negotiations and where they might lead. There was also a politically sensitive military matter. Argentine civilian aircraft were flying over our supply lines and doubtless communicating their findings direct to their submarines. We had every right to act to stop this. But could we be sure that if we shot at a civilian aircraft it would turn out to be an Argentine one? The radar characteristics and the typical flight path of an aircraft on surveillance would help to identify those on such reconnaissance missions. But there was an obvious risk that something could go wrong. We also had to consider the possibility of a commando raid against Ascension Island and our forces there — unlikely perhaps, but potentially devastating.

WEEK SEVEN

We now had to stand firm against the pressure for making unacceptable compromises while avoiding the appearance of intransigence. Specific instructions went to Tony Parsons about our position on withdrawal distances, interim administration, the issue of immigration and the acquisition of property during the interim period and to ensure that the Argentinians did not get away with prejudging the issue on sovereignty: that was for the islanders to decide. There were detailed discussions on the constitutional position of a United Nations administration of the islands. Our view was that the UN representative could only administer the law, not change it. If he wished to do so he would have to act through the islands’ Legislative Council. We also continued to press for a United States military guarantee of the security of the islands — but with very limited success. The UN Secretary-General was somewhat taken aback by the firmness of our stance. But Tony Parsons impressed on him the basic facts of the dispute. It was not we who had committed the aggression, though we had made a number of major concessions. Any arrangement which appeared to reward Argentine aggression would simply not be accepted in Britain.

The Argentinians could not be trusted. For example, on the issue of not prejudging sovereignty, their representative said one thing to the Secretary-General while their Foreign minister said quite the opposite in his public statements. Who was to be believed? The information we were receiving from the Americans about the attitude of the Argentine Junta confirmed our worst predictions. They were apparently not able to give way on sovereignty, even if they had wished, because of the political situation in which they now found themselves. This, however, was their problem not ours. My own views at this time were hardening because I was convinced that if anything we had already gone too far in making concessions. My feelings were echoed in the House of Commons. In the debate on Thursday 13 May Conservative back-benchers showed evidence of restlessness about our negotiations. Francis Pym continued to pursue a weaker line than I did and it was not liked.

Al Haig was now in Europe and his absence apparently gave those in the Administration who were favourable to the Argentinians an opportunity to persuade President Reagan that it was we who were being inflexible. President Reagan telephoned me at 6.40 that evening. He had gained the impression that the Argentinians and ourselves were now quite close in our negotiating positions. I had to tell him that unfortunately this was not the case. Major obstacles remained. As regards the interim arrangements, Argentina wanted greater Argentine participation than we could accept and there were substantial difficulties about ownership of property and freedom of movement. Secondly, there was the difficulty of South Georgia where our title was completely different and we were in possession. There was the added problem that we just did not know with whom we were really negotiating. The Argentinians were trying to arrange an interim administration which would lead inevitably to Argentine sovereignty. Finally, there was no guarantee that at a later stage they might not invade the islands again.

President Reagan had been talking to the President of Brazil who had been visiting Washington. There was some concern (entirely misplaced) that we were preparing an attack on the Argentine mainland: whether or not such attacks would have made any military sense, we saw from the beginning that they would cause too much political damage to our position to be anything but counter-productive. President Reagan wanted us to hold off military action. I said that Argentina had attacked our ships only yesterday. We could not delay military options simply because of negotiations. The truth was that it was only our military measures which had produced a diplomatic response, highly unsatisfactory as this was.

President Reagan was also concerned that the struggle was being portrayed as one between David and Goliath — in which the United Kingdom was cast as Goliath. I pointed out that this could hardly be true at a distance of 8000 miles. I reminded the President that he would not wish his people to live under the sort of regime offered by the military Junta and also of the length of time that many of the islanders had lived there and the strategic significance of the Falkland Islands if, for example, the Panama Canal were ever closed. I finished by seeking to persuade him — I believe successfully — that he had been misinformed about the Argentinians’ alleged concessions. It was a difficult conversation but on balance probably a useful one. The fact that even our closest ally — and someone who had already proved himself one of my closest political friends — could look at things in this way demonstrated the difficulties we faced.

On the morning of Friday 14 May there were two separate meetings of the War Cabinet. One consisted of a detailed assessment of the military position and options. The other was taken up with the diplomatic situation. We decided to prepare our own terms to put to the Argentinians as an ultimatum and Tony Parsons and Nico Henderson were summoned back from the United States to Chequers to discuss these for the weekend.

Two events that day and the next gave a great boost to my morale. First, there was the welcome I received from the Scottish Conservative Party Conference in Perth — an occasion which, as I have said before, I always enjoyed. In my speech I set out precisely what we were fighting for and why. I also said:

The Leader of the Liberal Party, David Steel, accused me of ‘jingoism’. How remote politicians can seem at these times of crisis: neither the audience nor the nation would fall into the same trap of characterizing determination to secure justice and the country’s honour in terms like that.

Secondly, I also learned of the successful raid under cover of darkness by our SAS and Special Boat Service men on Pebble Island off the north of West Falkland, destroying all eleven Argentinian aircraft at the air strip. It was a daring venture and a significant, though unheeded, warning to the Argentinians of the professionalism of our forces.

That Sunday at Chequers was mainly spent in drafting our own final proposals, to be put to the Argentinians by the UN Secretary-General. The vital consideration was that we bring the negotiating process to an end — ideally, before the landings — but in such a way as to avoid appearing intransigent. It became clear that we would have to make a very reasonable offer. I accepted this because I was convinced that the Argentinians would reject it, and strictly on a take-it-or-leave-it basis: the Argentinians must accept the offer as a whole, or not at all, and once rejected, it would be withdrawn. We would set a time limit for their response.

Tony Parsons and Nico Henderson were both closely involved in the drafting. We went over every point in detail, working as usual around the oblong table in the Great Parlour upstairs, remodelling the draft clause by clause. At hand were voluminous reference sources on the UN and the law relating to the administration of the Falklands. We hardened our terms in respect of interim administration, ensuring something close to self-government for the islanders and denying any role to the Argentine Government. We excluded South Georgia and the other dependencies from the proposals altogether: South Georgia was back under British control and there could be no question any longer of including it in the negotiations. We made reference to Article 73 of the UN Charter, which implies self-determination, to make it clear that the wishes of the islanders would be paramount in long-term negotiations. The Argentine Government was required to give a response within 48 hours and there was to be no negotiation of the terms. This exercise also allowed me subsequently to explain each phrase to the House of Commons to allay their understandable fears that we might be prepared to yield too much.

To keep the US informed and supportive at the UN — which was crucial — I authorized Francis Pym to brief Al Haig about our proposals that evening. This was a wise decision; when Mr Haig read the text he described it as fair. The Secretary-General of the UN also seemed impressed by the flexibility which we had shown.

I myself was closely involved in our intense diplomatic effort to keep our support on the eve of what I knew would be decisive military action. It was most important that the European Community countries should continue their sanctions against Argentina, but a number of them were faltering. I telephoned the Italian Foreign minister on Sunday afternoon, though to little avail.

WEEK EIGHT

On Monday 17 May President Mitterrand was in London for talks and I was able to press the argument for sanctions with him. The same afternoon I telephoned Mr Haughey about the Irish position. I was not convinced that this would have much impact, but the effort had to be made. In fact the Community Foreign ministers, meeting in Luxemburg, decided to continue with sanctions on a ‘voluntary’ basis, which was less than ideal but much better than nothing.

On the morning of Tuesday 18 May the War Cabinet met with all the Chiefs of Staff. It was perhaps the crucial moment. We had to decide whether to go ahead with the landing on the Falklands; I asked each Service Chief to give his views. The discussion was very open and the difficulties were clear: we would be vulnerable on landing and, in particular, there were doubts whether we had enough air cover, given that British ships would be within easy range of Argentine attack from the mainland and their positions would be known. We had not been able to knock out as many Argentine ships or aircraft as we would have liked in the weeks before the landing. And always there was the fact that we had not been able to locate their submarines.

But it was also clear that the longer the delay, the greater the risk of losses and the worse the condition of our troops when they had to fight. The troops could not remain on board ship indefinitely. Of course, no one could quantify casualties, but the judgement was that the advantages of landing outweighed the risks of postponement. The rules of engagement had already been agreed. The attack would be by night.

None of us now doubted what must be done. We authorized the landing on the basis of the Force Commander’s plan, subject to the Cabinet’s final approval. It could be stopped any time until late on Thursday which would allow us thoroughly to consider any reply from the Argentinians to our proposals. The decision could thus be cancelled or reaffirmed after Cabinet on Thursday morning. Beyond that, the timing was for the Force Commander himself.

There was no lack of last-minute pressure for further diplomatic concessions. Michael Foot had written to me urging further negotiations. I replied that if we could not reach agreement with the Argentinians on terms we regarded as acceptable we would have to decide what further military action to take and we would answer for our decisions to the House of Commons. Mr Haig too had to be discouraged from bringing forward another set of proposals which would just have allowed the Argentines to go on buying time. In fact, on the next day, Wednesday, we received the Argentine response, which was in effect a comprehensive rejection of our proposals. I had never thought they would accept. Our proposals were now taken off the table. We had decided earlier — at Francis Pym’s suggestion — that following Argentine rejection we would publish them, and we did so on 20 May. This was the first time during the whole of the diplomatic manoeuvring that either side had made public their actual negotiating position and our terms created a good international impression.

The Secretary-General made a last-minute attempt in messages to me and General Galtieri to put forward his own proposals. On Thursday morning (20 May) the War Cabinet met before the full Cabinet. Once again, Francis urged a compromise, and this time at the eleventh hour. He suggested that the Secretary-General’s aide-mémoire was very similar to our own proposals and that it would not be understood if we now went ahead with military measures. But the fact was that Sr. de Cuellar’s proposals were sketchy and unclear; to have accepted would have put us right back at the beginning again. I summed up very firmly. There could be no question of holding up the military timetable. It could be fatal for our forces. If the weather was right the landing would go ahead. The War Cabinet and later the full Cabinet agreed.

The Secretary-General had received no reply from the Argentinians about his aide-mémoire — on which we, in spite of all our reservations, had offered serious comments. He admitted the failure of his efforts to the Security Council. We published our proposals and I defended them in the House of Commons that afternoon. The debate went well and provided a good background for what now had to happen.

I had a full day of engagements in my constituency on Friday 21 May and I knew how important it was to carry on with business as usual. Before lunch I had to open a large extension of Gersons’, a firm which specializes in storage, packaging and overseas removals. There was a military band and an audience of some 1200, including many ambassadors. I was deeply moved, partly by the pride and patriotism of the people there but also, of course, because I knew (as they could not) what was due to happen at that very moment 8000 miles away. I did all that one has to do on these occasions and even rode on a fork-lift truck. Then I rushed back to the constituency office to see if there was any news. Not yet. I never telephoned Northwood on this or any other occasion to find out about operations in progress. I knew that the commanders on the spot had more important things to do than answer unnecessary enquiries from London. I returned to the Finchley office again soon after 5 p.m. and learnt by telephone and in carefully obscure language that events were taking place, but no detail.

Later that evening, while I was at a reception in Woodhouse School, still in the constituency, the news came over on the television. The Union Jack was flying in San Carlos: we had returned to the Falklands.

But I was desperately anxious about casualties. Was it really possible that we could land on that hostile coast with a fleet full of troops and equipment without being detected?

Later that night I returned to No. 10 and John Nott brought me a full report. The actual landing had been achieved without a single casualty. But now it was daytime and fierce air attacks had begun. The frigate HMS Ardent was lost. Another frigate — HMS Argonaut — and the destroyer HMS Brilliant were badly damaged. How the Argentine pilots missed the huge, white painted Canberra, acting as a troopship, I will never know. But the commanders were determined to get her out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.

In fact, the main amphibious force had moved towards San Carlos Water, blessed with an overcast sky and poor visibility, while diversionary raids continued elsewhere on East Falkland. Under cover of naval gun fire, our troops had been taken ashore in landing craft, while helicopters moved equipment and stores. Five thousand men were safely landed, though we lost two helicopters and their crews. The beach-head had been established, though it would take several days for it finally to be secured.

At the Security Council, meeting in open session, Tony Parsons defended our position against predictable rhetorical attacks from Argentina’s allies. At the end of the debate the Irish tabled a totally unacceptable resolution. We were able to rely on some strange allies — and not on some of those who should have been our friends. It was the Africans who amended the Irish resolution to the point at which we could accept it. This became UNSCR 505, adopted unanimously on 26 May, giving the Secretary-General a mandate to seek an end to the hostilities and full implementation of UNSCR 502.

On Saturday afternoon I visited Northwood before going on to Chequers. By now the full scale of the Argentine air attacks was all too apparent. To protect the operation at San Carlos, there had to be several levels of defence. First, there were the Sea Harriers on combat patrol flying high above the landing sites, subject to direction from the ships below. Without the Harriers, with their extraordinary manoeuvrability, flown with superb skill and courage, and using the latest version of the Sidewinder air-to-air missile supplied by Caspar Weinberger, we could not have retaken the Falklands. Second, Rapier missile batteries had been landed with the troops and placed in the hills around the bay. There were problems with the Rapiers: in particular the long journey at sea had created problems for their electronics. Then there were the air defences of the ships themselves, some based in the bay itself and others outside in Falkland Sound — principally long-range Sea Dart missiles on the Type 42 destroyers and the shorter-range Sea Wolf and Sea Cat on Type 22s and other frigates, but also anti-aircraft guns and even small arms.

At Northwood I spent some time getting up to date in the Operations Room. I did my best to seem confident, but when I left with Admiral Fieldhouse and we were out of earshot of anyone else, I could not help asking him: ‘how long can we go on taking this kind of punishment?’ He was no less worried. But he also had the ability of a great commander to see the other side of things. And, terrible as our losses had been and would be in the future, the fact was that we had landed our forces successfully and that serious losses were being inflicted on the Argentine airforce.

I should note here that we were assisted throughout by three important weaknesses in the Argentine air offensive, though in some ways these were the result of deliberate action on our part. First, the Argentinians concentrated their attacks — with the later tragic exception of the losses at Bluff Cove — on the naval escorts rather than the troop ships and aircraft carriers. Of course, in part that was because the escorts succeeded in shielding these units: that was their job. Second, the Argentine aircraft were forced to fly at a very low level to escape our missiles, with the result that the bombs they dropped (fused for higher altitude) frequently failed to explode. (Sadly a bomb which lodged in HMS Antelope did go off, sinking the ship, when a brave bomb disposal expert was trying to defuse it.) Third, the Argentinians had only a limited number of the devastating French Exocet missiles. They made desperate attempts to increase their arsenal. There was evidence that arms from Libya and Israel were finding their way through South American countries to them. We for our part were equally desperate to interdict this supply. Later, on 29 May, I was to have a telephone conversation with President Mitterrand who told me that the French had a contract to supply Exocets to Peru, which he had already held up and which both of us feared would be passed on to Argentina. As always during the conflict, he was absolutely staunch.

The Americans too, however irritating and unpredictable their public pronouncements on occasion, were providing invaluable help. I have already mentioned the Sidewinder missiles. They also provided us with 150,000 square yards of matting to create a makeshift airstrip. On 3 May Caspar Weinberger even proposed sending down the carrier USS Eisenhower to act as a mobile runway for us in the South Atlantic — an offer that we found more encouraging than practical.

I was working in my room at the House of Commons on the evening of Tuesday 25 May when John Nott came in to say that the destroyer HMS Coventry had been attacked by a wave of Argentine aircraft. Six or more had repeatedly bombed her and she was sinking. She had, in fact, been one of the two warships on ‘picket duty’ outside the opening of Falkland Sound, providing early warning of air attack and an air defence screen for the supply ships unloading in San Carlos Water. She later capsized and sank. Nineteen members of her crew died in the attack. John had to appear on television within half an hour. Something of what had happened was already publicly known, although not the name of the ship. It was thought better not to reveal it until we had more details about the crew. Whether the decision was right or wrong I am still not sure: the effect of not announcing the name was that every navy family was full of anxiety. In fact, the details were announced by John in the House of Commons the next day.

Later the same evening I had more bad news. I had gone into the Private Office to find out the latest about Coventry, but instead, the No. 10 duty clerk told me that the 18,000 ton Cunard container ship Atlantic Conveyor had been hit by an Exocet missile; that the ship was on fire and that orders had been given to abandon it. Atlantic Conveyor was loaded with vital supplies for our forces on the Falklands. Unlike the warships, she was unable to defend herself against missile attack by sending up chaff. Four of those on board were killed and the captain was drowned, though I was told later that he survived the explosion and fires, and had been seen alive in the water. Thankfully, though, the great majority were saved.

I knew that the Atlantic Conveyor had been carrying nineteen more Harriers, sorely needed reinforcements. Had they still been on board? If so, would we be able to carry on? The ship was also carrying helicopters which were vital to the movement of troops and supplies in the land campaign. Their loss caused our land commanders many difficulties. Only one of the helicopters was saved. To add to our general dismay, there was also news, based on an Argentine claim, that HMS Invincible had been hit and damaged. And I knew that somewhere east of the Falklands was the QE2, carrying 3,000 troops. For me, this was one of the worst nights of the war.

Early next morning I learnt that the news was not quite so bleak. I was told of the remarkable rescue of most members of the crews of Coventry and the Atlantic Conveyor. The nineteen Harriers had previously been flown onto Hermes and Invincible. Relief flooded over me at the news: we were not fatally wounded after all, though we had lost eight helicopters and 4,500 winter tents. Moreover, the news that Invincible had been hit was totally false.

Stores were still being unloaded at San Carlos. Some landing and supply craft were attacked and hit and there were unexploded bombs, most of which were defused. Our hospital centre at San Carlos was also hit, but the doctors carried on.

It was, though, a frustrating time for us in London. All of us were concerned that there appeared to be little movement by our troops out of the bridgehead. It took many days to unload the stores, equipment and munitions. The loss of the helicopters meant that all of the earlier plans had to be revised.

There was another worry. Would the Argentine Navy, which had after all apparently been strongest in pressing for an invasion of our islands, really continue to skulk in Argentine ports or would they now come out to attack and disrupt our advance? Two British ships had been sunk in our territorial waters around the Falklands. Perhaps we should send our submarines to sink Argentine ships in theirs? But the Attorney-General, Michael Havers, would not have this. So our submarine commanders were left prowling up and down the Argentine twelve-mile limit.

The trouble was that we knew that their ships might break out and we might not find them quickly enough to stop them. Again, it was the Argentine aircraft carrier, 25 de Mayo, which was the main threat. I had been told that if possible we needed to deal with their aircraft carrier before the landing, but for most of the time we had not been able to find it. We feared that it had been held in reserve to oppose the landing and that it might well appear on the Argentine national day — 25 May. Several weeks before the landing one of our submarines had found it in the middle of a bay. It was a fine point of international law to determine the limit of Argentine territorial waters: although the centre of the bay was more than twelve miles from the shore, it might be argued that the whole bay was within the limit. In the end we decided that the ship could be attacked, but by that time she had moved closer to the shore. The same issue arose regarding other Argentine vessels hugging territorial waters in the south. On this occasion Michael Havers and I had all the relevant charts laid out on the floor in the Parlour at Chequers and did the measurements ourselves. But the Argentinians were too careful and, unlike them, we were determined to stay within the constraints of international law.

Somewhat to the dismay of the UN Secretary-General and Al Haig, we made it clear that having landed we were not now prepared to negotiate. We could no longer accept the idea of an interim administration or proposals for mutual withdrawal of Argentine and British troops. The Americans were again becoming worried. They had been under ferocious verbal attacks at a meeting of the OAS on 27 May. We were put under continual pressure from Washington to avoid the final military humiliation of Argentina, which they now seemed to see as inevitable. I wish I could have been as confident. I knew, as they could not, how many risks and dangers still faced us in the campaign to recapture the islands.

This was amply demonstrated by the battle to retake Darwin and Goose Green. The Argentinians were well prepared and dug into strong defensive positions which had to be approached by our troops across the open ground of a narrow isthmus. They faced heavy enemy fire. As is well known, Colonel ‘H’ Jones, the commander of 2 Para, lost his life in securing the way forward for his troops. His second-in-command took over and eventually took the surrender. At one point a white flag was waved from the Argentine trenches, but when two of our soldiers advanced in response they were shot and killed. Finally, our commander sent two Argentine PoWs forward with a message to surrender, saying that they could have a parade if they liked but that they must lay down their arms. This proved acceptable. The Argentine officers harangued their men about the justice of their cause, but they surrendered all the same. The people of Goose Green, who had been imprisoned inside the community hall for three weeks, were now released. A famous battle had been won. Today there is a memorial to the Paras near Goose Green itself and a special memorial to ‘H’.

The media had reported that our troops were about to take Goose Green the day before the attack. I had been furious when I learnt of this — as, I believe, had ‘H’. Too much talk was giving the Argentinians warning of what we intended, though the fault did not always lie with the media themselves but also with the media management at the MoD.

On the same day that 2 Para were battling for Darwin and Goose Green I had a meeting with Cardinal Casaroli, the Pope’s Secretary of State. We were all very pleased that the Pope had not postponed his visit to Britain — the first ever papal visit here — in spite of the fact that we were at war with a predominantly Catholic country. We recognized the difficulties which a visit at this time might cause him, however, and decided that it would be best if none of the Cabinet met him personally. I had, of course, already talked to the Pope on an earlier occasion and admired his principle and courage. I explained to Cardinal Casaroli what we were fighting for: I said that war was a terrible evil, but there were worse things, including the extinction of all that one believed in. We could not allow aggression to succeed. Nor could we bargain away the freedom, justice and democracy which the Falkland Islanders had enjoyed for so long and simply hand them over to Argentina, where these things were unknown. We made no public comment at the time, but I hoped that something of this message might be transmitted to the Argentinians: for the Pope was to visit Argentina after leaving Britain.

Unfortunately, the Americans now sought to revive diplomatic negotiation. Al Haig wanted to involve the Brazilians in a settlement which (contrary to what he had earlier suggested) must, he claimed, come before the final defeat of the Argentine forces on the island. These proposals were really the wrong ones at very much the wrong time. We had already made it clear that unconditional Argentine withdrawal and the return of British administration were now our goals. But I knew that we could not afford to alienate the United States, particularly at this stage. We kept in contact with Mr Haig both about the question of how to provide for and repatriate Argentine prisoners of war and more generally about our plans for the long-term future of the islands.

What would have been quite wrong was to snatch diplomatic defeat out of the jaws of military victory — as I had to tell President Reagan when he telephoned me late at night on Monday 31 May. It was not very satisfactory for either of us that I should not have had advance warning of what he was likely to say and as a result I was perhaps more forceful than friendly. The President had, it seems, again been speaking to the President of Brazil who shared his view that the best chance for peace was before the Argentinians suffered complete humiliation. As the UK now had the upper hand militarily, we should strike a deal. I could not accept this. I told him that we could not contemplate a cease-fire without Argentine withdrawal. Having lost ships and lives because for seven weeks the Argentinians refused to negotiate, we would not consider handing the islands over to a third party. I understood the President’s fears. But I asked him to put himself in my position. I was sure that he would have acted in the same way as I did if Alaska — part of his own country, inhabited by his own people — had been similarly threatened. Moreover, I agreed with an excellent television interview he had given in which he had said that if the aggressor were to win, some fifty other territories, affected by similar disputes, would be at risk. This conversation was a little painful at the time but it had a worthwhile effect. The Americans now clearly understood our position and intentions. I would have a further opportunity shortly to talk to President Reagan in person during the forthcoming G7 summit at Versailles.

In the meantime, we had to deal delicately with a five-point peace plan which had been advanced by the UN Secretary-General. The pressure for a cease-fire sponsored by the UN Security Council was growing. On Wednesday 2 June after the Secretary-General had announced that he had given up his own efforts, Spain and Panama, on behalf of Argentina, sought to press to the vote an apparently innocuous Draft Resolution on a cease-fire which would have had exactly the effect we were determined to avoid. It was touch and go whether the Spanish would even now manage to obtain the necessary nine votes which would force us to veto the resolution. We ourselves lobbied as hard as possible. The vote was postponed until Friday.

At noon that day I flew to Paris for the G7. My first and most important meeting was, of course, with President Reagan who was staying at the US Embassy. We talked alone, as he preferred it. I thanked him for the great help we had received from the United States. I asked him what the Americans could do to help repatriate the Argentine PoWs. I also requested that the American vote should support us at the Security Council.

The mood at Versailles seemed very different from that which was now prevailing at the UN in New York. The heads of government were staying in the Petit Trianon. After dinner we had a long discussion about the Falklands and the response was generally sympathetic and helpful. Later the British delegation and I withdrew to the sitting-room which we had been allocated. We had been talking for about fifteen minutes when a message came through from the Foreign Office and Tony Parsons that a vote was about to be taken in the Security Council and that the Japanese were voting against us. As theirs was the ninth vote required for the resolution to pass this was particularly irritating. So much for the previous undertakings of cooperation. I tried hard to contact Mr Suzuki, the Japanese Prime Minister, to persuade him to reverse the decision and at least abstain. He could not possibly have gone to bed in such a short time. But I was told that he could not be reached.

Attention was, in fact, somewhat diverted from our problems by the extraordinary behaviour of the US Ambassador to the United Nations, Mrs Kirkpatrick. Having cast her veto alongside ours, she announced only minutes later that if the vote could be taken again she would, on instructions just received, abstain. Ironically, this rather helped us by distracting media attention from our veto. However, that had not been the intention. Apparently, succumbing to pressure from the Latin American countries, Al Haig had telephoned her from Versailles telling her to withdraw her vote of support from us but she had not received the message in time. There was a still more embarrassing sequel to this event for the United States. Just before lunch in the Palace of Versailles, the television cameras were allowed in and an American journalist asked President Reagan what had lain behind the US confusion at the United Nations the previous evening. To my amazement, he said that he did not know anything about it. He had not been told. The journalist then turned to me. I had no intention of rubbing salt into a friend’s wounds, so all I said was that I did not give interviews over lunch.

That same morning the Japanese Prime Minister gave me an extremely lame explanation of Japan’s vote in support of the resolution, claiming that he believed that it would lead to Argentine withdrawal. However, President Mitterrand’s summing up at his press conference after the conclusion of the G7 was excellent and totally supportive.

Neither Tony Parsons nor I was particularly surprised that we had finally had to use our veto. In retrospect, we were very lucky — and it was a tribute also to Tony Parsons’s skill — that we had not had to veto such a resolution much earlier.

By now, my thoughts were again on what was happening in the Falklands. Our troops had struck out against other Argentine positions. There had been no Argentine counter-attack. Major-General Moore had arrived to assume command of all land operations and the 5th Infantry Brigade (5 Brigade), reinforcing our troops on the islands, had landed on 1 June. The main problem was to transport enough equipment and ammunition forward in preparation for the final assault on the ring of mountains which protect Port Stanley.

President Reagan arrived in Britain on Monday evening on an official visit and I met him at the airport. The next day he was due to speak to Members of both Houses of Parliament. But it is the terrible losses we suffered at Bluff Cove which are etched on my mind for that day. The landing ships, Sir Tristram and Sir Galahad, full of men, equipment and munitions, had been sent round to Bluff Cove and Fitzroy in preparation for the final assault on Port Stanley. The clouds cleared while the ships were still unloading the Rapier missiles which would protect them from air attack and the Argentinians scored hits on both. Sir Galahad had not discharged its troops and the result was great loss of life and many survivors were left with terrible burns. The Welsh Guards took the brunt of it. As on all these occasions, the natural reaction was ‘if only’ — above all, if only the men had been taken off and dispersed as soon as they arrived then nothing like this number of casualties would have been suffered. But the losses would have been even greater were it not for the heroism of the helicopter pilots. They hovered close to the burning oil slicks around the ship and used the draught from their rotors to blow life rafts full of survivors away from the inferno into which they were being drawn.

Again, there were almost insuperable problems in releasing news of casualties. Rumours of very large numbers were spread by the Argentinians. Families were frantically worried. But we decided to hold up details of the numbers lost — although of course (as always) relatives were individually informed. We knew from intelligence that the Argentinians thought that our casualties were several times worse than they were and that they believed this would hold up our attack on Port Stanley. The attack on Mount Longdon, Two Sisters and Wireless Ridge was due to begin on Friday night. Surprise was vital.

I hoped against hope that our worst losses were behind us. But early on the morning of Saturday 12 June the No. 10 duty clerk came up to the flat with a note. I all but seized it from him, expecting it to say that the attack on the mountains around Port Stanley had begun. But the news was very different. I kept the note, which reads:

— MoD as yet have no details of casualties and wouldn’t expect them for several hours. They will keep us informed.

Glamorgan had been bombarding the Argentine positions in Port Stanley and on the hills around before the forthcoming battle. She had in fact been hit by a land-based Exocet while on her way out of the area.

How bitterly depressed I was. At moments like this I felt almost guilty at the comfort, protection and safety in No. 10 while there was so much danger and death in the South Atlantic. That day was the Trooping of the Colour for the Queen’s birthday. For the only time that I can remember the ceremony was marred by a downpour of rain. It was unpleasant for the Guards, but with the news so bad and the uncertainty so great, it seemed appropriate. I wore black, for I felt that there was much to mourn. John Nott arrived shortly before I was to take my place on the stand. He had no further news. But he thought he would have been told if the attack had not started. Afterwards, dripping wet, the guests, including Rex and Mrs Hunt, dried out before the fires in No. 10 as best we could.

Shortly before 1 o’clock we heard that all our military objectives had been achieved. But there had been a stiff battle. Two Sisters, Mount Harriet and Mount Longdon had been secured. The plan had been to press on that night to take Mount Tumbledown, still closer to Port Stanley, but the troops were tired and more time was needed to bring up ammunition, so it was decided to wait. I went up to Northwood that afternoon to hear precisely what was happening. There was better news there about Glamorgan; her fires were under control and she was steaming at 20 knots.

More than ever, the outcome now lay in the hands of our soldiers on the Falklands, not with the politicians. Like everyone else in Britain, I was glued to the radio for news — strictly keeping to my self-imposed rule not to telephone while the conflict was underway. On my way back from Chequers to No. 10, that Sunday (13 June), I went via Northwood to learn what I could. What was to turn out to be the final assault was bitterly fought, particularly at Mount Tumbledown where the Argentinians were well prepared. But Tumbledown, Mount William and Wireless Ridge fell to our forces, who were soon on the outskirts of Stanley.

I visited the islands seven months later and saw the terrain for myself, walking the ground at first light in driving wind and rain, wending my way around those grim outcrops of rock which made natural fortifications for the Argentine defenders. Our boys had had to cover the ground and take the positions in thick darkness. It could only have been done by the most professional and disciplined of forces.

When the War Cabinet met on Monday morning all that we knew was that the battle was still in progress. The speed with which the end came took all of us by surprise. The Argentinians were weary, demoralized and very badly led — as ample evidence at the time and later showed. They had had enough. They threw down their arms and could be seen retreating through their own minefields into Stanley.

That evening, having learnt the news, I went to the House of Commons to announce the victory. I could not get into my own room; it was locked and the Chief Whip’s assistant had to search for the key. I then wrote out on a scrap of paper which I found somewhere on my desk the short statement which, there being no other procedural means, I would have to make on a Point of Order to the House. At 10 p.m. I rose and told them that it had been reported that there were white flags flying over Port Stanley. The war was over. We all felt the same and the cheers showed it. Right had prevailed. And when I went to sleep very late that night I realized how great the burden was which had been lifted from my shoulders.

For the nation as a whole, though the daily memories, fears and even the relief would fade, pride in our country’s achievement would not. In a speech I made in Cheltenham a little later, on Saturday 3 July, I tried to express what the Falklands spirit meant: