Scram! (19 page)

After a few seconds in the ditch, Jolly looked up astonished to see the Wessex still there and not obliterated. He scrambled to his feet and back into the aircraft, feeling both shocked and sheepish. He assumed the crew had known exactly what had happened. It was best to say
nothing
and hope that they would forgive his rapid exit.

‘Oh, you back with us then, doc?' asked Crabtree coolly. Jolly assumed this was
junglie
nonchalance in the face of extreme danger. In fact neither pilot had any idea what had happened. It was a full year later before Jolly revealed the truth to a horrified Heathcote.

For the Mirage, the Wessex had been an opportunity target en route to bigger and better things. Unbelievably, the cannon fire from the jet appeared to have straddled the Wessex on either side. Had the attacking Mirage pilot been any less accurate, whether his attack had been angled or lined up a few feet off centre, it would have been curtains for the Wessex and her crew. To say they had a lucky escape is something of an understatement.

The courageous Type-21 frigate HMS
Ardent
and her crew had spent the day providing naval gunfire support against the Argentine forces in Darwin and Goose Green, successfully restricting the launch of Pucara ground-attack aircraft from the airstrip. The downside was that she was horribly exposed in the open water of Falkland Sound. As the day wore on,
Ardent
became the obvious target for a series of attacks by the Argentine jets. A lone Argentine air force Skyhawk splashed a bomb harmlessly into the sea beside the ship at around midday. A second flight of four Skyhawks en route to the frigate minutes later was intercepted over West Falkland by two 800 Squadron Sea Harriers, with the loss of two Skyhawks.

The third attempt by the Argentines to sink
Ardent
an hour and a half later faltered briefly as four Daggers were again intercepted, with the loss of one further aircraft. However, the remaining three evaded the cannon fire of the pursuing Sea Harriers for a clear run in low over Falkland Sound. The three Daggers swept in towards the
ship
and deposited a series of bombs. The first bounced short of the ship and up into the stern. The second bomb exploded on impact with the flight deck, destroying the Lynx helicopter and hangar and killing the flight crew. Heroic Flight Commander John Sephton and his team were last seen blazing away with rail-mounted machine guns. Sephton was awarded a posthumous Distinguished Flying Cross. The third bomb missed altogether.

Two more flights of three Daggers followed this attack almost immediately. Mercifully for
Ardent
, the first flight headed for the warships guarding the entrance to San Carlos Water, causing only shrapnel damage. The second flight headed directly for
Ardent
. All three were intercepted and splashed by 801 Squadron Sea Harriers. But there were simply not enough Harriers to go round. As
Ardent
's damage control teams struggled to deal with the catastrophic scenes, two further flights of three Argentine navy Skyhawks headed towards the ship. Two bombs from the first flight hit the already damaged stern. It was little consolation that all three Skyhawks were subsequently destroyed, two by Sea Harriers and one by a combination of small-arms fire from
Ardent
and cannon fire from one of the Sea Harriers. Bombs from the second wave of Skyhawks missed altogether, too late to save the mortally damaged ship. Twenty-two sailors and airmen died that day, killed in action or lost to the sea.

The last thing Chief Petty Officer Ken Enticknap remembered before the final strike by the A-4s were the words ‘take cover' shouted over the ship's tannoy. He had already been trying to deal with the damage from the previous attack. He regained consciousness to find the air black with thick acrid smoke. His left hand was badly damaged and he was trapped under a girder. Able Seaman John Dillon had been similarly knocked unconscious and
trapped
under falling debris. Coming around to the sound of screaming and the sight of thick black smoke, Dillon dragged himself out, realising that he had also been wounded by shrapnel in the back.

Responding to Enticknap's appeal for help, Dillon slowly managed to lift the girder enough for the other man to crawl free. They stumbled forward together through the smoke towards what looked like a raging fire. All of a sudden a huge expanse of sea and sky appeared through the smoke in the side of the ship where the bulkhead had been blown off. They gasped deep breaths before Enticknap fell into a hole in the decking. With his strength fading, Dillon lifted Enticknap out of the hole. As they stood overlooking the sea, they put on their lifejackets. With his jacket inflated, the badly injured Enticknap jumped the twenty feet into the sea. Dillon couldn't inflate his jacket but realised that he had no choice but to protect his injured colleague. He followed into the water. Adrenalin prevented either of them noticing the icy temperature of the water. As Dillon grabbed Enticknap to swim away from the side, Dillon couldn't believe his eyes. The stern of his former ship was a chaos of mangled metal, fire and smoke. In contrast, the front of the ship seemed remarkably undamaged. Men in orange survival suits stood against the railings pointing and waving madly at the two men in the water.

From their vantage point in the gulley on Fanning Head, Crabtree and Heathcote had seen the smoke begin to spew upwards from the stricken Type-21 out in the distance in Falkland Sound. Yet with air attacks still in progress, they felt apprehensive about rushing to aid the ship. Their dilemma was resolved as they saw
Plymouth
's Wasp, flown by Lieutenant Commander John Dransfield, fearlessly crossing below them having collected wounded sailors
from
the now disabled frigate
Argonaut
. Without further thought, they headed off towards
Fearless
for an urgent refuel. While on deck, Rick Jolly rushed out and grabbed two winchable stretchers and threw them into the cabin. The Wessex lifted off immediately and headed south up over the Sussex Mountains and past the troops of 2 Para who were now digging themselves in. The normal maximum speed of a Wessex 5 is 120 knots. As Heathcote tipped the aircraft into a full power shallow dive, they reached 145 knots in their desperation to reach the scene as quickly as possible. Heathcote flared the aircraft into a hover just short of the tangled mess of metal, fire and smoke, having passed through an acrid pall of black smoke. The frigate
Yarmouth
was backing up her stern alongside
Ardent
, which was now tilting unnaturally over to one side.

At the front of the ship, the men in orange suits were waving frantically in the direction of the sea just below the Wessex. Immediately both pilots spotted Dillon and Enticknap in the water. At this point Heathcote became very aware of his inexperience as he struggled to maintain a stable hover. Hovering over the glassy and fuel-slicked surface of the sea was extremely difficult with so few visual references on the water below him. Handing over to the more experienced Crabtree quickly brought things under control. Meanwhile Gleeson had lowered the orange rescue strop on the winch down to Dillon, now struggling in the freezing water without an inflated lifejacket.

Crawling over to the doorway, it was immediately obvious to Rick Jolly that the man in the water was too weak to attach himself and was about to drown. With the perceived shame of running away from the Wessex still fresh in his mind, he knew this was his moment to make amends. Signalling his intent, he could see Gleeson
talking
to the crew as the strop was raised back into the aircraft. With a nod from Gleeson, Jolly attached himself and was lowered towards the drowning man. It was hard to know which was more unpleasant: the horrible jolt from the discharge of static electricity as his feet hit the water or the shock as his body submerged into the bitter South Atlantic water. The water temperature was just three degrees above zero and was fast numbing his body and draining his energy. Adrenalin kicked in as he grabbed the desperate man and locked his hands around his chest in a bear hug. As Crabtree gently lifted the helicopter, the two men rose, dripping from the sea. Gleeson winched them upwards towards the cabin. With small delicate movements on the winch control and strong arms to haul his load on board, Jolly and Dillon collapsed on the floor of the Wessex. A quick compression of Dillon's chest produced two vomited bursts of sea water. He was alive.

Gleeson now looked at Jolly expectantly. With a thumbs-up, Jolly was lowered once more towards the sea. As the medic span around on the winch, it was like watching a crazy revolving film show. Burning
Ardent. Yarmouth
. Falkland landscape. Then back to the sickening sight of
Ardent
again. The spinning stopped with the second dose of static shock followed by icy numbness as he entered the water. This time there was no way he had sufficient strength to hold onto the second man. Kicking through the water, he fastened Enticknap's lifejacket onto the winch hook above his own strop. Thankfully the lifejacket held without tearing as the two men were lifted once more to safety. With the wounded and freezing men safely on the floor of the Wessex, Gleeson closed the door and put the cabin heaters on full blast as the aircraft sped back north to
Canberra
in San Carlos Water. Behind them in Falkland Sound, the remaining survivors from the still
burning
HMS
Ardent
abandoned ship, clambering directly across onto HMS
Yarmouth
.

Ardent
sank the following day. Altogether twenty-two men had died in the attack. For their courage, Dillon was later awarded the George Medal and Enticknap the Queen's Gallantry Medal.

With darkness falling, there were no further air strikes on that dreadful day. Crabtree, Heathcote and Gleeson had flown more or less continuously for thirteen and a half hours since their glass of beer with Mike Rose the previous afternoon. An utterly exhausted Wessex crew shut down on deck and called it a day. A long night still lay ahead for Rick Jolly, however. He was told to get his men and medical equipment off the ship and onto land to set up the field hospital in the old refrigeration plant at Ajax Bay. The Wessex crew were already asleep when the
Canberra
sailed out of San Carlos towards the safety of the carrier group to the east of the Falklands.

The epic D-Day duel had cost the Argentine air force five Daggers, five Skyhawks and two Pucaras in exchange for the destruction of HMS
Ardent
, the loss of two Gazelle helicopters, serious bomb damage to HMS
Argonaut
and
Antrim
, and cannon damage to HMS
Brilliant
and
Broadsword
.

But the British had successfully landed on East Falkland with the 4,000 men of 3 Commando Brigade.

Chapter 8

‘Air raid warning red, SCRAM!': 22–24 May 1982

AFTER THE DRAMA
of the first day landings, low cloud and light rain on the second day gave the British ships unloading in San Carlos Water respite from air attack
.

From Falkland Sound two fingers of water jut inland, surrounded on all sides by hills – Fanning Head to the north, the Sussex Mountains to the west and south, and further hills to the east behind Port San Carlos and San Carlos settlement. This bubble became a hive of activity, with landing craft shuttling men and stores from the larger warships and supply ships. Sea Kings continued to lift huge quantities of stores and ammunition from ship to shore, helping to establish the British foothold on Falklands soil. But the badly needed Wessex remained underused, and in some cases, unused, scattered in dribs and drabs among the task force ships
.

Pete Manley stood on the flight deck of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary supply ship
Stromness
sailing towards San Carlos Water. He had been ordered to get his Wessex
gunship
, Yankee Sierra, onto land as quickly as possible. The journey south on the giant container ship
Atlantic Conveyor
had taken just eleven days from leaving Ascension to joining up with the task force in range of the Falklands. His cocktail party on the tail ramp had never materialised.
Conveyor
and its huge quantity of supplies was now being held back for a few days because of the ferocity of the air raids in San Carlos. But a helicopter gunship might come in useful for the land forces.

In gunship role, the Wessex could carry either twenty-eight 2-inch rockets, fired by the pilot from the right-hand seat, or a pair of wire-guided AS12 air-to-surface missiles fired by the missile aimer from the left-hand seat. In the cabin behind and below the cockpit were two gimpy machine guns, mounted on either side of the aircraft and fired by the aircrewman. Even fully armed, there was still space in the back for eight or more troops, depending on how much fuel the aircraft had on board. Accompanying Manley were co-pilot Sub-Lieutenant Ric Fox and aircrewman Colour Sergeant Dave Greet RM.

As
Stromness
eased its way quietly into San Carlos Water, Manley realised that it would be a whole lot safer to be based on land than on a floating ammunition ship. Radio traffic between the ships was frantic with signals and orders. So it took some while for Manley to establish authorisation to clear the deck and support the troops of 45 Commando based at Ajax Bay red beach. Within minutes he and the crew were very relieved to flash up Yankee Sierra on the flight deck and head off towards the south-west of San Carlos Water. As they approached the big warehouse of the Ajax Bay refrigeration plant, lines of trenches dotted the hillside like dominoes as the British troops dug in. Manley lowered the gunship gently down
onto
the grass near the warehouse and pulled the throttles closed. Keeping one engine running, he brought the rotors to a halt. The crew climbed out to look around. A bemused Royal Marine sergeant wandered over and asked what they were doing. ‘We were wondering if we could help you chaps out,' replied Manley cheerily.