Read Online Crown Jewel: The Battle for the Falklands by Peter von Bleichert - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter von Bleichert
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dangerous animal it was. A technician came around. Albert hoped the man had not seen the doubt in his eyes, and walked away. As he strode to the hangar office, he repeated to himself: Keep calm and carry on .
Everyone had assembled in the hangar’s office. The base commander strutted over, a print-out clutched in his white-knuckled hand.
“Gentlemen, we are left with several machines, and we are going to use them. Prince Albert has joined our ranks, and, despite my vehement protests, insists on taking to the air. Reports are sketchy. Here is what we know: At 0300, Argentina commenced invasion operations. We believe the opening moves included the seizure of an offshore oil rig, an attempt to assassinate or capture the Prince at Government House, bombardment of Stanley Airport, the landing of troops at Mare Harbour and Stanley, and what may have been a truck bomb at the marine barracks. We have also lost feeds from the three mountain-top radars, and must assume them to be in enemy hands or destroyed. As we all know, enemy commandos also tried to land here at Mount Pleasant. They did not succeed. However, saboteurs were able to destroy all but one of the Typhoons belonging to No. 1435 Flight. They got a Special Air Service EH101 Merlin. Just two of the recently delivered AH Mark 1 Apaches are intact, with one suffering minor damage. The Globemaster is safe, and we will evacuate the wounded and the governor with it. There are no friendly ships close enough to offer immediate assistance. His Majesty’s Ship Iron Duke left these waters four days ago and is probably half way to Portsmouth by now. As far as we know, we have no submarines in the vicinity. There is no word from the other towns on the islands, and we have been attempting to contact London. Unfortunately, it seems all the satellite relays have been disabled. It is also apparent that at least some operation participants were locals. So, we must assume some of the population is hostile. I would guess Argentina kept the initial invasion forces light to keep us from detecting their build-up, but we must also assume that heavier forces are on the way. With just one Typhoon left in theater, it is obvious that the enemy has air superiority. Regardless, we will use what we have left to challenge this status. Our plan is to defend our base—and by extension the approaches on Darwin Road, and the town of East Cove—as well as harass enemy operations until we receive instructions, are reinforced, or are relieved. Once the runway is clear, the Typhoon will escort the Globemaster out, with an Apache providing perimeter cover. We will keep the second Apache in reserve. We have also formed anti-air teams, armed with Javelins.”
A soldier entered the hangar and spoke with the commander. “Excellent. The runway is clear. Right then. The transport will fly out in ten minutes. Captain Talbot. Lieutenant Bruce. Man your Apache.” The base commander turned to the Typhoon pilot. Knowing the man would be going up alone, flying without a wingman for cover, he said: “Captain, to your aircraft.”
The C-17 Globemaster III had already lined-up with the runway and held for take-off. Beneath the strategic airlifter’s angled wings, four turbo-fans increased power. The Typhoon was already airborne, circling overheadat high altitude. All by its lonesome, it would try to keep enemy fighters off the C-17’s back.
Albert hovered the Apache near the base’s eastern perimeter fence. He was to handle any enemy anti-air teams that popped-up in the base’s surrounds. He scanned the terrain with the Apache’s night vision system. The exposed hilltops and wide-open ground would make it easy to spot any threats at a distance. He turned his head to the runway’s apron. The C-17’s bright strobes flashed and, with brakes released and engines whining, began to roll. Overhead, the Typhoon banked with a
Everyone had assembled in the hangar’s office. The base commander strutted over, a print-out clutched in his white-knuckled hand.
“Gentlemen, we are left with several machines, and we are going to use them. Prince Albert has joined our ranks, and, despite my vehement protests, insists on taking to the air. Reports are sketchy. Here is what we know: At 0300, Argentina commenced invasion operations. We believe the opening moves included the seizure of an offshore oil rig, an attempt to assassinate or capture the Prince at Government House, bombardment of Stanley Airport, the landing of troops at Mare Harbour and Stanley, and what may have been a truck bomb at the marine barracks. We have also lost feeds from the three mountain-top radars, and must assume them to be in enemy hands or destroyed. As we all know, enemy commandos also tried to land here at Mount Pleasant. They did not succeed. However, saboteurs were able to destroy all but one of the Typhoons belonging to No. 1435 Flight. They got a Special Air Service EH101 Merlin. Just two of the recently delivered AH Mark 1 Apaches are intact, with one suffering minor damage. The Globemaster is safe, and we will evacuate the wounded and the governor with it. There are no friendly ships close enough to offer immediate assistance. His Majesty’s Ship Iron Duke left these waters four days ago and is probably half way to Portsmouth by now. As far as we know, we have no submarines in the vicinity. There is no word from the other towns on the islands, and we have been attempting to contact London. Unfortunately, it seems all the satellite relays have been disabled. It is also apparent that at least some operation participants were locals. So, we must assume some of the population is hostile. I would guess Argentina kept the initial invasion forces light to keep us from detecting their build-up, but we must also assume that heavier forces are on the way. With just one Typhoon left in theater, it is obvious that the enemy has air superiority. Regardless, we will use what we have left to challenge this status. Our plan is to defend our base—and by extension the approaches on Darwin Road, and the town of East Cove—as well as harass enemy operations until we receive instructions, are reinforced, or are relieved. Once the runway is clear, the Typhoon will escort the Globemaster out, with an Apache providing perimeter cover. We will keep the second Apache in reserve. We have also formed anti-air teams, armed with Javelins.”
A soldier entered the hangar and spoke with the commander. “Excellent. The runway is clear. Right then. The transport will fly out in ten minutes. Captain Talbot. Lieutenant Bruce. Man your Apache.” The base commander turned to the Typhoon pilot. Knowing the man would be going up alone, flying without a wingman for cover, he said: “Captain, to your aircraft.”
The C-17 Globemaster III had already lined-up with the runway and held for take-off. Beneath the strategic airlifter’s angled wings, four turbo-fans increased power. The Typhoon was already airborne, circling overheadat high altitude. All by its lonesome, it would try to keep enemy fighters off the C-17’s back.
Albert hovered the Apache near the base’s eastern perimeter fence. He was to handle any enemy anti-air teams that popped-up in the base’s surrounds. He scanned the terrain with the Apache’s night vision system. The exposed hilltops and wide-open ground would make it easy to spot any threats at a distance. He turned his head to the runway’s apron. The C-17’s bright strobes flashed and, with brakes released and engines whining, began to roll. Overhead, the Typhoon banked with a
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