The Río del Plata set sail from Bilbao in north-west Spain on 15 April and headed south into the Atlantic. At 10.45 on 26 April, as the Argentine freighter closed on Ascension, a signal arrived on the island from Northwood telling them she was on her way and that, while in Spain, it was possible that she had taken on a force of Argentine Commandos.
If South Georgia was important for political reasons, the vital strategic importance of Ascension Island was of a different measure altogether. While Jerry Price’s concern was inevitably less acute than Woodward’s fear of losing a carrier, he knew that Ascension’s security was equally crucial to success. Should anything happen to the airhead, the British campaign would come to an ignominious halt. The Argentinians, he thought, must see that too. Despite the colony’s extreme geographical isolation, what they might be able to do to threaten Wideawake was a subject taken very seriously indeed. A 200-mile terminal exclusion zone, patrolled by the Nimrods, was established around the island. The boundary carried no legal force, however. It was little more than a tripwire. Since early in April, the Zaporozhive, a Soviet ‘Primorye’ Class spy trawler, had sat within it, just eighty miles to the north. Listening. A British helicopter was sent out to wave a bottle of whisky at its deprived crew, but neither that, nor an accidentally-on-purpose attempt to blow down its aerials with the rotor downwash put them off. And the huge silver-winged Tupolev Tu-95 Bears operating out of Africa continued to fly close to the island. Unsure whether or not Soviet intelligence might be finding its way into the hands of the Argentinians, or whether a high-flying radar contact or approaching ship was friend or foe, the British on Ascension had always to assume the worst.
Northwood authorized the use of Task Group 317 – the British amphibious force on board HMS Fearless, still lying off the coast – to defend Ascension against the potential threat of the Río del Plata. As a result, Marines were posted as lookouts on vantage points across the island, while a joint Royal Navy and Marine team swept the boundary to the north-west and the SBS checked the beaches. While the island was secured, all incoming transport flights were stopped. The only thing airborne was the Nimrod MR2 combing the seas around Ascension.
The RAF contingent were given daily intelligence briefings. GCHQ had always maintained a presence on Ascension and the Victor detachment looked forward to the arrival of the man from Britain’s signals intelligence agency arriving at Wideawake on his bicycle. It was always the potential threats to Ascension that most held Jeremy Price’s attention. Two more Victors had flown in today. Half of the RAF’s entire tanker fleet was now tesselated around the small Wideawake pan.
Faced with the difficulties of operating its frontline attack jets out of BAM Malvinas, in early April the Comando Aviación Naval Argentina decided to deploy its Aermacchi MB339s. These little Italian-built weapons trainers didn’t carry the punch of the Skyhawks and Super Étendards, but armed with 30mm cannons and 5-inch Zuni rockets, the unit’s CO, Capitan de Corbeta Carlos Molteni, believed 1 Escuadrilla Aeronaval de Ataque could pose a genuine threat to British ships. By 26 April, four of the single-engined jets were in place, parked on improvised wooden planking near the eastern threshold of the runway. The Argentinians now had an aircraft capable of mounting offensive air operations flying out of the Falklands themselves. The need to disable the airfield was even more pressing.
Chapter 24
It quickly became known as the ‘Star Chamber’, the day the RAF’s top brass arrived at Waddington for a targeting conference. Led by the Chief of the Air Staff, Sir Michael Beetham, some of the service’s most senior officers were ushered into John Laycock’s office and settled around the table. Laycock and Simon Baldwin then set out their stall.
The Station Commander sat down opposite Beetham. To his left was Simon Baldwin. Beyond him, almost out of Laycock’s view was the Commander-in-Chief Strike Command, Air Marshal Sir Keith Williamson. AOC 1 Group, Air Vice-Marshal Mike Knight, was back down from Bawtry and Air Marshal Sir John Curtiss, the CORPORATE Air Commander, had joined them from Northwood. There were a lot of stripes in the room. John Laycock opened the debate by simply asking exactly what it was the Chief of the Air Staff wanted the Vulcan crews to do. Beetham’s reply was straightforward and unequivocaclass="underline" ‘To prevent the Argentine Air Force from using the runway at Stanley airport.’
Now Laycock and Baldwin felt they were on safe ground. Even though it was not what the crews had so far been training for, they now knew that it had to be a medium-level attack with ballistic 1,000lb iron bombs. It was the only way to put deep craters in the ground. Laycock described their plan, explaining how and why they’d reached their conclusions. They knew that Beetham and Curtiss, both ex-Second World War heavy-bomber crew, would see their logic. And Knight had already discussed the attack profile with Baldwin the previous day. But it didn’t seem to be what C-in-C Strike was expecting to hear. The only man in the room with a background flying fighters, Sir Keith Williamson wouldn’t have had any personal experience of what the two Waddington men were describing. As a consequence, he appeared reluctant to accept that what Baldwin and Laycock were suggesting could be the best way. And it did fly in the face of what had almost become a sacred cow for the RAF: that going in low over the target was the only way for the bombers to do their work. The RAF’s entire attack force of Buccaneers, Jaguars, Harriers and now Tornados – all under Williamson’s command – was built on that foundation. Wrong-footed, he questioned the wisdom of the return to such a classic attack profile. Laycock turned to Beetham for support, frustrated that what he knew made sense was being undermined.
‘It sounds very sensible to me,’ Beetham said quietly. ‘Carry on.’
‘Thank you, CAS,’ said Laycock, reassured.
Beetham asked about the size of the craters they could expect, but Baldwin, his career spent training to drop nuclear, not conventional bombs, struggled to give him detail on that. He felt fortunate the CAS was an ex-bomber man.
‘Can we do it?’ asked Beetham, finally. Since Monty’s broken probe two days earlier, Martin Withers and Dick Russell had flown with the modification to the valve – with a probe that hadn’t carried the weight of a full fuel hose on the ground. It had gone without incident, but it would have been rash to dismiss the difficulties of the past two weeks on the strength of one sortie. Laycock and Baldwin sounded confident, but realistic.
‘If everything works, we’ve got a chance, sir. If the gods are with us, yes.’
The four senior officers retreated into conference to discuss what they’d been told. Keith Williamson wanted his staff at Strike Command to examine the plan. Beetham and Knight supported that and suggested that the Air Warfare College at Cranwell might also take a look. The target had been confirmed. Laycock and Baldwin had explained the only effective way to attack it using the resources available to them, but the plan still needed to be rubber-stamped.
‘Don’t worry,’ Baldwin encouraged Laycock, ‘I know the guys at Cranwell will come through.’
It was time for ‘their air-ships’ to meet the crews.
Monty was trying to get some sleep when the phone rang. It was Simon Baldwin.
‘Monty, could you come over to the Ops block?’
‘Simon, I’m in bed. I’m tired,’ Monty complained.