OC A COY’S REFLECTIONS ON THE BATTLE FOR DARWIN HILL &

2 PARA GROUP’S SUBSEQUENT OPERATIONS

Since writing a brief description of A Coy’s part in the battle after the company commanders of A, B & D Coys had met fortuitously at Darwin settlement on 3^rd February 2012, I have often been encouraged to expand on our experiences in the campaign. The 2025 anniversary of the Argentine surrender provides a suitable moment.

The lead up to the first land battle in the Falklands’ campaign had been one of marked contrast.  For five days, exposed to the extremes of winter weather on Sussex Mountain — before the days of Gore-Tex and other protective clothing — we had watched while ships in the sound were attacked daily by Argentine aircraft; and notably the sinking of both HMS Ardent and Antelope. Now at last it was our turn, and we were glad to get going with a view to inflicting our will upon the enemy.

Lest anyone should forget, no UK infantry battalion had conducted such a conventional war operation since the Korean War thirty years before. Experience was in short supply. Untested, we hoped that two things might prove to be in our favour; first, we had spent the previous autumn training by day and, crucially, by night in Kenya, one of the best dismounted infantry training areas available to UK forces in the world — an opportunity which we had used to the full; and secondly, Lieutenant Col ‘H’ Jones, our CO, had instilled in us, by his leadership, an unshakeable self-belief that we would overcome any enemy.

The Battalion, led by D Coy, moved south through the night of 26^th May over broken terrain and after fourteen miles reached Camilla Creek House.  In a bold move, the CO ordered us — all 450 men — into the house and farm outbuildings, conscious of the need for a modicum of rest before first light, out of the incessant wind.  Two hours’ sleep, huddled together on shelves, in cupboards and the like was to prove invaluable. It would be a long time before we would rest again.

Our brief respite was shattered by the stunning news that the BBC had reported our advance towards Darwin & Goose Green on the World Service. The CO was enraged, the news a shock to all of us, as we hastened out into open countryside, fearing attack from enemy aircraft.

Later that morning, we assembled for the CO’s ‘O Group’, but not everyone had received the message. Captain Wood, the Adjutant, was very clear. We were to return to our positions to await further summons. I proposed to Captain Wood that we should stay – somewhere out of the way — to begin the process of orientation by marking our maps, but he was adamant: the CO wanted us to leave.

Four hours elapsed before we were to gather again. The inordinate delay — unexplained 40 + years on — was to cost us the following morning, having reduced the hours of darkness for the advance to contact and the inevitable fighting that was to come.

Convening in the late afternoon, Colonel ‘H’ directed that ‘2 Para is to capture the Darwin & Goose Green area’: critically, we were to take the two settlements in daylight to avoid killing the civilians we had come to free after more than a month of captivity. Returning to my company, light was already fading as I prepared to give orders.

In Richard Connaughton’s ‘Brief History of Modern Warfare’, he captures the essence of what was missing from the orders: any instruction on how the rifle coys were to deal with Darwin Hill — clearly, but in retrospect, the enemy’s vital ground. As I explained to the author, “first, the vital ground was not expressed as such; second, the intelligence picture given — with frequent entreaties by the CO to hurry up — did not come across in a clear geographical sequence, the marking of maps following rather than preceding orders; thus, the significance of what might have been there was lost.”

Orders for the initial attack in the early hours of 28^th May required A Coy to capture the enemy platoonin the area of Burntside House — to clear the neck of the isthmus of enemy thus enabling two coys to advance simultaneously. Inaccurate intelligence (“the civilians in the house have left but it is now in enemy hands”) meant that we nearly killed the Morrison family.  Happily, that was not so: but, after I Platoon had gone firm on the objective, Sgt Barrett reported that two Argentine soldiers just to the north of the house had been killed, while the remainder of their section — we were never quite sure how many — disappeared into the night.

The photo (below) is taken from Burntside House on an earlier peacetime visit looking SSW down the isthmus towards Darwin (middle ground across the water) and Goose Green (just visible on the horizon).

As B Coy followed by D Coy marched south down the west of the isthmus to capture Goose Green, A Coy set off along the east side for what looked to be our most challenging task of the night: to ‘destroy the enemy position’, in company (minus) strength, on Coronation Point. So, 80 or 90 enemy, perhaps, holding a small feature on our direct path, hemmed in between the sea on our left and a track on our right – the boundary with B Coy.  Not more than a kilometre of frontage and no room for an out-flanking attack. To our considerable surprise, the position was devoid of enemy. 

Given that daylight was not much more than an hour away — even though the orders required A Coy to be ‘in reserve’ for the next phase of the operation — Captain Dent (2IC A Coy) sought permission from Battalion HQ to move forward: on three occasions this was denied.  ‘Wait for the CO to join you’. As it was, he came rushing forward more than an hour later — close to first light — insistent that we got going.

Placing 3 Platoon (Lt Wallis) on the edge of Coronation Point to give covering fire for our assault on Darwin Settlement (our third and principal target) we moved forward to our start line. Within minutes, the cloak of darkness rapidly gave way to a bleak landscape devoid of cover. The Darwin Hill feature running from west to east across the isthmus dominated the scene.

Five minutes into a new dawn, 2 PARA was forced to take cover, outgunned by the enemy: B Coy pressing on over the ridge towards Goose Green - as ordered - were harassed by .50 calibre machine guns sited beyond Boca House, on a hill feature on the western shoreline of the isthmus, which halted their advance. As to A Coy, 3 Platoon was harassed by artillery fire, from Goose Green, and mortars operating from the Darwin settlement, while the remainder of A Coy faced medium machine guns and sniper fire from enemy dug into trenches on the ridgeline, with rudimentary overhead protection, and plentiful artillery and mortar support.

The photo, (© Dair Farrar-Hockley 2012) taken from the Darwin settlement looking west across the isthmus in more peaceful times, shows the Darwin Hill feature (top left), and the enemy’s open fields of fire from the ridgeline on the horizon down to the water’s edge, past which A Coy had to pass to secure our start-line for the assault on the settlement. The lone outburst of vegetation on the skyline masks the civilian cemetery which has a role later in the battle.

Instantly, our priority shifted to the enemy on the hill, their strength and depth completely unknown as we doubled forward, seeking scant cover.

Coming under rapid fire from the crest of Darwin ridge (some 100 feet above us) we made for the security of the gorse gully at the base of Darwin Hill.  

The immediate action of the leading sections had been to take six or seven trenches at the base of the gully in short order. Under cover of darkness, the advantage was in our favour: we could get amongst the enemy and overwhelm them with our aggression.  In daylight, the advantage shifted to the Argentines as they could pick us off at range: thus, our rapid early success ground to a slog.

Of what did the enemy comprise, and where were they sited?  Since orders for the battalion attack contained no plan to capture Darwin Hill nor the ridge to the west, it was a surprise to find it so heavily defended on the east of the isthmus.  Initially pressing 2 Platoon (Lt Coe) to try and outflank the enemy by heading up to the top of the gully, it became clear that sniper and fixed line machine guns would make that impossible.  If we were to achieve a quick outcome (Colonel H’s intent) it would be essential to get the enemy’s head down with a bombardment of some description.

Our doctrine and training had been in the all-arms battle, but it was good that we had also trained for the unexpected.  One by one, the ‘on-call’ fire support which I requested was denied.  Fog at sea prevented harriers taking off; so too the attack helicopters of the day. The battalion’s artillery support of only 3 x 105mm light guns with limited ammunition was woefully small following the loss of the Atlantic Conveyor on 25^th May: ten out of eleven medium lift helicopters on board had been sunk. We had knowingly gone into battle ‘under-gunned.’

A second problem now emerged from the failure to mark maps before the orders process had begun. Colonel H’s decision to place Support Coy (consisting of a machine gun platoon, an anti-tank platoon (MILAN missiles), and a section of 81mm mortars) — together with the sniper platoon — to the NW of the isthmus on the western side of Camilla Creek had been missed by the coy commanders. Limited discussion on the journey down had favoured splitting this precious resource into two balanced teams.

We shall never know the CO’s rationale, but as ill-luck had it when Sp Coy’s fire teams were called upon, they could not respond — to their utter frustration. On the west coast, they could see the enemy but were out of range; on the east coast, they couldn’t see the enemy facing A Coy, and, similarly, were out of range.

It is an appropriate moment to commend the valiant efforts of the section of mortars whose efforts were unstinting. WO2 Cotton faced four challenges. The spongy surface of the terrain we fought over made it difficult to keep the base plate horizontal; the accuracy of ‘bombs’ flung high into the air was affected by strong gusting winds; the high water-table nullified the effects of high explosive rounds on impact; and rudimentary overhead protection gave an added measure of security to the enemy in their trenches.

The cold light of a new day heralded in a reality check. While B Coy was brought to a standstill, pinned down by fire from the enemy 0.50s at Boca House, A Coy too was on its own.  A battle of attrition, rather than manoeuvre in the all-arms battle, was the order of the day.  While I had no doubt that we would capture the hill, I had no idea of the time it would take, nor the cost in lives.

Battle is by nature chaotic and brutal; our experience was to be no different. Our strength lay in the qualities of the airborne soldier. Guts, an utter determination to succeed, professional fighting skills of the highest order, unstinting support for one another, ABI (or ‘airborne initiative’) — that indefinable sense of taking the initiative, whatever your rank — and a brand of infectious, dark humour. All of them were needed.

Momentum was the key. The selection and training of our NCOs proved decisive. Their immediate initiative led to a series of sporadic sorties from different parts of the gully to test opportunities to close with the enemy. This culminated in Sgt Barrett (1 Platoon) creating a fire base, inspiring those around him. The now intertwined sections of 1 & 2 Platoons began in small groups to fight their way up the hill from the gorse gully: our firm base throughout the battle. 

It was a slow, demanding task.  Our advance could not be affected by complete platoons, but by skirmishing in small groups. Control was crude, principally by NCOs shouting to those nearest to move or give covering fire. Literally, we clawed our way up the slope, with little more than tiny folds in the ground to give cover on the bare terrain: a billiard table as some have described it.  The situation was not aided by frequent enemy artillery fire — controlled as we discovered after the battle by an observation post on Mt Osborne to the north of the isthmus.

About an hour after our battle had begun, we were joined by the CO and his Tac 1 party of thirteen men. He was understandably keen for the advance to be rejoined and instructed me to try to outflank the enemy. I made clear that we had already attempted that, explaining our overall position. Winning was not in doubt; how long it might take was the question I could not answer.

The Colonel then ordered his mortar officer up the gully with a view to improving his observation of the battlefield. Eventually, seeing no point in throwing anyone’s life away needlessly, I persuaded the CO to change his mind. There was naturally a tension between us. He wanted an immediate result; to achieve that I wanted firepower, which, with his battalion outgunned, he knew he couldn’t provide. A Coy’s battle of attrition prevailed.

Unswerving efforts took place to recover wounded comrades. Small successes in one place contrasted with casualties and delay in another. Back in the gorse gully, still smouldering from our artillery fire the night before, WO2 Price — A Coy’s CSM —looked after the rising toll of wounded, including Argentine soldiers — casualties from the first trenches captured.

As the battle progressed at a slow grinding rate, I had attached myself to Sgt Barrett’s firebase from which I had the best opportunity — among very poor options — to see what was happening. NCOs exploring pathways up the hill reported in from time to time. By contrast, the CO and his party twenty-five yards from us at the bottom of the hill could see little if any of the battlefield.

Searching the skyline through binoculars — looking for any sign of B Coy’s left flank — I hoped, if I could find them, they might bring additional firepower to bear. Suddenly, on the northern edge of the cemetery, I could see movement as first one, then a total of five soldiers — clearly enemy — emerged and began to establish a firebase. Stragglers, I sensed, from the previous night’s skirmishes with B & D Coys.

In Mark Adkin’s accomplished book on the battle entitled ‘Goose Green,’ he describes A Coy’s situation at daybreak as “unenviable.” This latest threat would turn our flank. I gripped Sgt Barrett’s right shoulder and pointed out his new priority target. Within minutes, all movement around the cemetery (see photo above) had ceased.

Among our casualties was my youngest soldier, Pte Tuffen. Observing him wounded in the enemy’s killing area, he lay still, possibly dead. Critically, the enemy had ceased to show any interest in him. As we progressed slowly up the hill, I came upon a developing plan to try and recover him. I explained why this was not to happen, the likely outcome being a further four soldiers killed or wounded.

Exceptional leadership from Cpls Abols, Camp (T), Hardman and Prior was evident. But they were not alone: many others — junior NCOs and private soldiers among them — made a major contribution to the success of the day against a determined enemy company well dug in with superior firepower.

Meanwhile, 3 Platoon, still manning their fire base overlooking the settlement and with no cover from enemy view, were eventually driven off their position by artillery and mortar fire. Reaching us in the gorse gully, they brought additional firepower to the assault. It was a day when all ranks bound together.

As we got closer to the crest of the convex slope of the hill — after something approaching three hours fighting — I found myself with an ad-hoc group of a dozen or so men. Suddenly, from behind us down the hillside, the CO shouted: “Come on, A Coy. Get your skirts off.” Nonplussed, I urged my men forward. Keeping low, we quickly came under withering fire from the nearest trenches 90 to 100 metres away. Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw a man go down. Later I learned that three men had died instantly.

As we returned fire, LCpl O’Toole crawled to my side and shouted into my ear: “If you don’t get out now, sir, you aren’t getting out.” No better advice. But we weren’t moving without Pte Dey, the only man in front of me, six or seven metres forward and to my right. A machine-gunner, separated from his No 2 on the gun, with his bandolier caught in the local heather. Crawling forward, I adopted the role of his No2 and unravelled the bandolier. Dey quickly brought his gun into action. Co-ordinating with LCpl O’Toole, we withdrew beneath the lip of the hill, gathering our breath for a moment, before the battle recommenced.

Into this chaotic situation, a further shout from the bottom of the hill warranted my attention. This time Major Rice the BC (the Battery Commander, the CO’s artillery advisor who controls the guns): “Dair, Dair, come quickly. The CO’s gone round the corner.” Unclear what he meant I told Major Rice in soldierly language that he would have to wait. The forward battle was my priority as we closed on the enemy. Within twenty minutes, white flags appeared, a combination of hand-held light anti-tank weapons and machine guns finally proving decisive. The enemy were surrendering. 

As I had learned after talking to airborne veterans from WW2, achieving a swift and secure surrender can be a tricky operation. First, this was a small part of a much larger battlefield, where surrender was the last thing on the minds of our enemy. Secondly, a flurry of white flags did not necessarily mean that everyone on the position intended to cease the fight.

During the clearance operation, WO2 Price came to tell me that he had found the CO and three members of his party. He warned me that Colonel ‘H’ was dying. Kneeling beside my CO, I stayed quietly talking to him until he had died.

In today’s world where data has meaning, we had inflicted more than 60% casualties upon the enemy: 18 dead and 39 wounded. Just over 200 men had fought against one another: 112 from A Coy and 92 Argentine soldiers, at a combined cost of 74 casualties (24 dead and 50 wounded). Lt Estevez received Argentina’s highest national military decoration, posthumously — the Cross for Heroic Valour in Combat.

Three requirements now jostled for priority: casualties, our own and those of our enemy, POWs, and the imperative to prepare for counterattack; for this, as daylight had revealed, was the vital ground which dominated the isthmus in every direction.

Now that the hill was secure, we were able to provide a protected firing point for a section from the anti-tank platoon. Upon their arrival they set to work responding to OC B Coy’s tasking to destroy the .50s grouped on the hill beyond the ruins of Boca House. It was a matter of huge relief when MILAN missiles struck their targets, enabling movement on towards Goose Green, still more than 2 miles away.

And what of our CO’s contribution both to the battle and to the campaign?  His determined lone charge against the enemy, demonstrating physical courage of the highest order, was seen only by members of his tactical headquarters. Not long afterwards, the enemy had surrendered. 

In addition to his exceptional personal courage, his decision to set us to a difficult task, conscious of the strategic importance of an emphatic victory after nearly a week of relative inaction and significant losses by the Task Force, spoke too of his moral courage. As OC B Coy first put it: “His example, will and leadership were to remain with us for the rest of the campaign to recapture the Islands.”

An hour or so after ‘H’s’ death, Major Keeble (Bn 2IC), who had now taken command of the Battalion, came forward onto Darwin Hill. Thankfully, he had brought with him the ammunition we had been requesting for a while. Ahead of his party, vital medical teams had come by helicopter to save the lives of our own and Argentine wounded soldiers. I had also asked for Padre Cooper to come forward. His arrival was a welcome sight after our losses.

Major Keeble’s initial proposal was to send A Coy forward to join B & D Coys (who were now busy attacking the enemy beyond the Boca House position) in the fight for Goose Green.  My own appreciation was somewhat different.  First, A Coy had suffered fifteen casualties and these were an immediate priority along with the urgent need for resupply of ammunition.  Darwin settlement was still not secure below us; and the hill provided a dominant position from which to influence the battle. Why give up the vital ground now? He accepted my counterproposal to send forward 3 Platoon to join C Coy on their operation towards Goose Green.

As B, C & D Coys fought their way forward to Goose Green, an enemy medium lift helicopter took off from the southern edge of the airfield. The machine-guns of B & D Coys forced it to ground, ending a sole attempt at counterattack.

The following morning, a surrender ceremony took place on the airfield, an inspiring initiative by Major Keeble, with considerable help from Robert Fox (then the BBC Radio News correspondent) and others. Shortly afterwards, 2 PARA left 3 Cdo Bde, to come under command 5 Inf Bde.

Three days later, after a modicum of rest, testing of weapons and treatment of minor injuries, A Coy stood ready on the helicopter landing site at Goose Green. 

At a fortuitous meeting with Brook Hardcastle (manager of the farms outside Port Stanley) at Darwin House, OC A & B Coys had ascertained that a working phone was probably accessible at Swan Inlet House, (SIH: see map above) linked to the manager at Fitzroy. Would this provide up to date intelligence on Argentine dispositions?

Brigadier Wilson (5 Inf Bde) had been charged with opening a southern flank to Port Stanley. OC B Coy came up with the idea of conducting an airborne armed reconnaissance to try and speak to Ron Binnie at Fitzroy, which the brigade commander immediately approved. A Coy’s task was to exploit the outcome, whatever that might be.

Limited time determined that I briefed A Coy collectively. If Fitzroy was clear of enemy forces, we would fly to secure the settlement at Bluff Cove 15 miles east of Fitzroy by road and dig a defensive position above it. B Coy would fly in after us to secure Fitzroy: together we were to provide tenuous forward positions on which to base future brigade operations — the southern flank option. Once again, we were fighting with what we stood up in, save a medium mortar tube each with limited ammunition. No thought had been given to an all arms plan for likely battle.

My instruction was simple. We needed to be prepared to counter an enemy attack at first light the following morning. There were no questions.

Bravo November, callsign of the lone chinook which had survived the sinking of the Atlantic Conveyor, was now ready to take us the 28 miles required across no-man’s land. ‘Fill her up,’ said the pilot when I asked how many he would take. We crammed 80 fully armed soldiers into the back, while I squeezed into the front behind pilot and co-pilot. WO2 Price would bring the remainder the following day.

Flanked by two Scout helicopters armed with Helarm missiles, the Chinook lurched into the sky, before hugging the earth’s contours to avoid enemy interference.

As night drew on, the sound of soldiers digging disturbed the quiet peace of the settlement. By an extraordinary act of kindness, the settlers switched off one of their freezers to provide a hot meal for all my men, fed — four at a time — through the long winter night.

The following day, the first sortie from Goose Green contained D Coy, flying a mile or two to our east on the road towards Stanley. Immediately, they came under artillery fire.

Twenty-hours later, we began an extraction to Fitzroy, our positions to be taken by the Scots Guards. Our new CO, Lieutenant Colonel Chaundler, had arrived by parachute to take command of 2 PARA. The first thing he wanted for his men was a short period of recovery after two back-to-back operations.

On a foggy, blowy night, our transport was to be a landing craft. With water slopping inside the boat and many suffering from seasickness, we were relieved to hear from the coxswain some hours later that we had arrived. To my horror, I looked at the jetty, only to realise that we had gone round in a circle and returned to Bluff Cove. Easily done, I am sure, but it was an exhausted group of men who finally arrived at Fitzroy to find a resting place inside the sheep pens — our first night under cover.

Other than critical work done by the regimental aid post, our role in the Sir Galahad catastrophe the following day was minor – helping bring survivors ashore from lifeboats. It was a relief to find the battalion reassigned to 3 Cdo Bde on 11^th June.

The Battle for Wireless Ridge was an essential part of the encirclement of Port Stanley — the final battle. It began with a helicopter lift to the western slopes of Mount Kent. In numbing cold as winter’s grip intensified there followed a significant wait in reserve, ready to exploit operations by either 3 PARA or 45 Cdo in their pre-determined attacks on Argentine positions. A march to Furze Bush Pass followed, then a further period of waiting before receiving orders for an attack on Wireless Ridge, to open the final door into Stanley.

A Coy had initially been tasked to lead the first attack in Phase 1. A fortuitous opportunity enabled OCs A, B & D to recce the ridge — dropped off by helicopter on the side of Mt Longdon where 3 PARA was still under heavy bombardment. In the twenty minutes allotted, it became abundantly clear that the enemy held the ridge in far greater strength than we had realised. The feature was held by 7^th Infantry Regiment, with four coys defending the key objectives set for 2 PARA’s battle. Notably, one of these occupied a position which — we were assured — had been captured by 3 PARA! The flow of intelligence over the past three weeks had been poor.

Accordingly, the CO revised his plan. I took Lts Shaw, Coe and Wallis to the CO’s ‘O Group’ to give them a broader sense of what was to come. To his great credit, Colonel Chaundler determined that — unlike our two previous operations — it would be an all arms battle: fire support, now available in abundance, came from naval gunfire, artillery and the armoured cars of The Blues and Royals. After D Coy led the way, A & B Coys astride a goat track stormed up the hillside to capture the ‘Apple Pie’ feature. D Coy took on the lion’s share of fighting for the remainder of the night and the following morning before the ridge was finally ours. Once the enemy had withdrawn from individual coy locations, we were subjected to unceasing artillery fire onto their old defensive positions — a baptism for all of us. 

Shortly after D Coy had secured the top of the ridge, the hillside looking down towards Stanley was suddenly awash with Argentine soldiers surrendering. When Brigadier Thompson arrived on our position, he instructed 2 PARA to secure the road into Port Stanley. Colonel Chaundler ordered A Coy to lead the way.  As we reached the racecourse, orders came from on high to halt where we were — to avoid further contact with Argentine soldiers retreating into Stanley.

It was with great pride that I watched these magnificent, but war weary, young men begin to gather in the simple wooden grandstand for a photograph, obligingly taken by Max Hastings (then the correspondent from The Evening Standard) who had joined us on Wireless Ridge. Our efforts to raise the company flag on the racecourse flagpole were a little less convincing. Clearly more practice was required! 

Hours later we learned of the Argentine surrender on West Falkland. It was a relief to us all to know that no more lives would be lost.

It was my privilege to have commanded A Coy throughout the campaign. I remain immensely proud of my young officers and soldiers, their unstinting fighting spirit, outstanding professionalism, and good humour in testing times. None of us will forget those we left behind.

Utrinque Paratus

Written and kindly donated by Major General Dair Farrar-Hockley MC 14^th June 2025

(OC A Coy, 2 PARA, 1982)

© Dair Farrar-Hockley