There is No Alternative (27 page)

The war that ensued was the largest and longest naval battle since the great Pacific campaign in the Second World War, and one of the most logistically complex in history. The British fought with an 8,000-mile logistics pipeline in a combat arena 4,000 miles from their nearest air base on Ascension Island, halfway between South America and Africa. It was not a walkover. In the words of the commander of the task force, Admiral Sir John Woodward, “It was a lot closer run than many would care to believe. We were on our last legs. If they had been able to hold on another week it might have been a different story.”
¹³⁰

On April 12, as British submarines arrived in the Falklands, Britain pronounced a 200-mile exclusion zone around the islands, declaring that Argentine forces found in the zone would be subject to destruction. The main task force departed from Ascension Island on April 17. British nationals were advised to leave Argentina. A despondent Haig abandoned his shuttle diplomacy.

On April 23, a small British commando force attempted to land on a glacier in South Georgia. High winds and heavy snow forced them to abort. A second attempt resulted in two helicopter crashes. When Thatcher was apprised of this news, it was not yet known if the crews had survived. Not long afterward, Thatcher was informed that all had been daringly rescued, but
she allows in her memoirs that for a moment, she gave in to despair, wondering “whether the task we had set ourselves was truly impossible.”
¹³¹

Her moment of doubt did not last long. On April 25, the commando force retook South Georgia.

Thatcher and her defense secretary, John Nott, delivered the news to the press. The conference may be viewed on YouTube.
¹³²
As Nott reads the prepared statement, Thatcher flushes with obvious pride and, one assumes, overwhelming relief, although one would not know from her face that she had ever suffered a moment's anxiety. Nott, in his horn-rimmed glasses and slightly overlarge suit, looks slouched and haggard; it is clear that he is suffering from the strain. Thatcher, impeccable in a navy ensemble and pearls, is ramrod straight, her chest thrust out, glowing, her hair stiff and shining like a bronze carapace. When Nott reaches the words “So far, no British casualties have been reported,” her lips curl into a slight, triumphant smile, which she quickly suppresses in favor of a more dignified expression. Nott then reads the text of the cable reporting the recapture: “Be pleased to inform Her Majesty that the White Ensign flies alongside the Union Jack in South Georgia. God Save the Queen.” Thatcher cannot contain herself. She beams. Dimples appear in her cheeks.

Thatcher's enjoyment of the moment is spoiled when reporters seem more concerned with Britain's next step than delighted by the news. A journalist quite reasonably asks, “What happens next?”

“Just
rejoice
—
at
—
that
—
news,
” she booms, her voice resonating from the chest, the force of her indignation causing both her defense
minister and the assembled reporters to step back as if blown by a sharp wind. “And
congratulate
our armed forces and the marines.”

A small voice is audible over the clicking of the flash bulbs. “Are we going to declare war on Argentina, Mrs. Thatcher?”

“
Rejoice!
” she repeats, and flounces off.

On April 30, Reagan announced America's support for Britain. On May 1, British forces landed on West and East Falkland, and the naval bombardment of Port Stanley began. British Vulcans—after a flight that required five mid-air refuelings—bombed the runway of Port Stanley airport.

The Argentines claimed to have shot down British airplanes. When the war cabinet met on the following day, it was advised that an Argentinean cruiser, the
General Belgrano,
was sailing on the edge of the exclusion zone. It was believed to be armed with Exocet missiles. “It was clear to me what must be done to protect our forces,” Thatcher recalls.
¹³³
On May 2, the
Conqueror
sunk the
Belgrano,
with the loss of 323 lives, leading the Argentines to order their ships back to port for the duration of the conflict.

It was and remains the only ship ever to have been sunk by a nuclear-powered submarine. Subsequently, the commander of the
Conqueror,
Chris Wreford-Brown, stoically remarked of the event that “the Royal Navy spent thirteen years preparing me for such an occasion. It would have been regarded as extremely dreary if I had fouled it up.”

The loss of life shocked opponents of the war out of their torpor, domestically and abroad. Thatcher now came under intense diplomatic pressure to accept a peace plan proposed by the president of Peru and endorsed by Al Haig. But on May 4, an Exocet missile hit the British destroyer
Sheffield
in waters southeast of the Falklands, killing twenty and severely wounding twenty-four more. It sank several hours later. It was the first Royal Navy ship lost in action since 1945. There was no chance, after this, that anything short of complete Argentine surrender could be sold to the British public, not that Thatcher had ever considered such a thing.

Three days later, the Argentines bombed the destroyer
Coventry,
which sank with the loss of nineteen of its crew. The
Atlantic Conveyor
was sunk by an Exocet, killing twelve. Thatcher's cabinet ordered the assault to continue. “Steadily but surely we are gaining ground,” she assured her countrymen. “Our men and ships are there also that others may mark and learn that land they take by force they shall not hold.”
¹³⁴

On May 21, under cover of darkness, British paratroopers and marines landed on the western coast of East Falkland. On May 26, British paratroopers headed south from East Falkland to mount a surprise attack on Darwin and Goose Green. The BBC World Service announced, prior to the action, that a British parachute battalion was poised to take Goose Green, destroying the element of surprise. The commander of the battalion ordered his men to attack nonetheless. Outnumbered three to one, they won the battle, although the commander was killed in action. The residents of
Goose Green, who had been imprisoned by the Argentines, were released.

Reagan feared the destabilization of the whole region, leaving it vulnerable to communist opportunism. He tried in vain to persuade Thatcher to embrace a settlement. She could now claim military victory, he told her; her honor had been restored. She scorched the phone lines in response to the suggestion. “Just supposing Alaska was invaded,” said Thatcher. “Now you've put all your people up there to retake it and someone suggested that a contact could come in. You wouldn't do it.”

“No, no, although, Margaret, I have to say I don't quite think Alaska is a similar situation—”

“More or less so. I didn't lose some of my best ships and some of my finest lives to leave quietly under a ceasefire without the Argentines withdrawing.”

“Oh. Oh, Margaret, that is part of this, as I understand it—”

“Ron, I'm not handing over the islands now. I can't lose the lives and blood of our soldiers to hand the islands over to a contact. It's not possible. You are surely not asking me, Ron, after we've lost some of our finest young men, you are surely not saying, that after the Argentine withdrawal, that our forces, and our administration, become immediately idle? I had to go to immense distances and mobilize half my country.”

“Margaret, but I thought that part of this proposal . . .” Here Reagan ceases to form complete sentences. “Margaret, I . . . Yes, well . . . Well, Margaret, I know that I've intruded and I know how . . . ”

“You've not intruded at all, and I'm glad you telephoned.”
¹³⁵

The final assault began soon thereafter, with heavy bloodshed. A British force of 8,000 men fought their way over the island and the ring of mountains around Stanley in fierce hand-to-hand combat. One by one, the Argentine positions fell. Then, on June 14, with British troops poised to take Stanley itself, the Argentine commander surrendered. The announcement took Thatcher and her cabinet by surprise. The commander of the British land forces immediately sent a message to London. “The Falkland Islands once more are under the government desired by their inhabitants. God save the Queen.”

In total, 255 British lives were lost, as well as six ships, thirty-four aircraft, and £2.778 billion. The Argentines lost 649 servicemen, many of them teenage conscripts. Three civilian islanders were killed.

What was gained? Many wondered.

Dr. Johnson's remarks about the Falklands conflict of 1771 remained apt: “Let us now compute the profit of Britain. We have . . . maintained the honor of the crown, and the superiority of our influence. Beyond this what have we acquired? What, but a bleak and gloomy solitude, an island, thrown aside from human use, stormy in winter, and barren in summer; an island, which not the southern savages have dignified with habitation; where a garrison must be kept in a state that contemplates with envy the exiles of Siberia; of which the expense will be perpetual.”

Defending the interests of the 1,820 British subjects who lived in the Falklands and wished to remain British was a noble goal. Of course it was. But for the cost of the war, every last one of the islanders could have been airlifted to the Welsh countryside and resettled with a stipend so handsome they would never have needed to shear a sheep again. This could have been achieved without the loss of a single life.

Yet there
was
a gain beyond ensuring the self-determination of the Falklanders. The gain was to British credibility and prestige—and to Thatcher's, in particular, both at home and abroad. The words “credibility” and “prestige” may be abstract, particularly contrasted with the real and immediate horror of the loss of young life. But this credibility and prestige prompted events that were momentous.

At the outbreak of the conflict, Thatcher's colleague Enoch Powell had intimated, in the House of Commons, his suspicion that Thatcher was not up for the task:

In the wake of the victory, the skeptical Powell became glowing effusion itself:

This was a view widely shared. Great crowds gathered in London to sing “Rule Britannia” and cheer the woman who had led Britain to triumph. Thatcher's government won a massive victory in the 1983 general election—a victory that was by no means certain beforehand and indeed unlikely. She was returned to power with an increased parliamentary majority, empowering her to sweep ahead with the reforms that have now come to be associated with her name.