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Batman, a friend of mine was on the Coventry when it was hit; fortunately he was one of the survivors, but he never talks about what happened. I hadn’t seen that film until tonight; it certainly gives me a better insight into what he and the rest of the crew went through; thanks for posting.

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It was a good watch but failed to mention so very important things in that 1) Coventry and Broadsword declined CAP assistance and 2) Coventry turned across Broadsword stopping her from downing the Sea Hawks.

 

The onwatch EWD on Broadsword was my instructor at Dryad when I did my LH course. Was always scathing of Cov' for doing that.

 

Had a couple of Sheffield and Coventry (as well as plenty of other Falklands vets) lads on the Exeter. Helped calm the nerves of the younger kids when we headed to the Gulf in 91.

 

A few Falkland vets post on here actually.

 

Joining the Andrew in the mid-80s meant that lots of lesson learnt down south were being put into practice, such as only having cotton kit and that aluminium ships melt!

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It was a good watch but failed to mention so very important things in that 1) Coventry and Broadsword declined CAP assistance and 2) Coventry turned across Broadsword stopping her from downing the Sea Hawks.

 

The onwatch EWD on Broadsword was my instructor at Dryad when I did my LH course. Was always scathing of Cov' for doing that.

 

Had a couple of Sheffield and Coventry (as well as plenty of other Falklands vets) lads on the Exeter. Helped calm the nerves of the younger kids when we headed to the Gulf in 91.

 

A few Falkland vets post on here actually.

 

Joining the Andrew in the mid-80s meant that lots of lesson learnt down south were being put into practice, such as only having cotton kit and that aluminium ships melt!

 

Interesting stuff VFTT.

 

Any idea why Coventry and Broadsword turned down assistance from the harriers?

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Interesting stuff VFTT.

 

Any idea why Coventry and Broadsword turned down assistance from the harriers?

 

According to this link, there was a CAP that vectored onto the Argie planes but Broadsword & Coventry warned them off to avoid getting radar lock on the harriers.

( http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=4P_RAwAAQBAJ&pg=PA259&lpg=PA259&dq=broadsword+coventry+harrier+CAP&source=bl&ots=bNfiGoEN0v&sig=dkgxAqXsijmMCNC-ytXNdT7_hjs&hl=en&sa=X&ei=DaE_VOK1JZDiarSDgbgJ&ved=0CE8Q6AEwBg#v=onepage&q=broadsword%20coventry%20harrier%20CAP&f=false )

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Thanks for that badgerx16. That seems to me – admittedly speaking as a layman – like a perfectly valid reason, albeit, very sadly, one with regrettable consequences. I imagine it must be extremely difficult to make these split-second decisions in the heat of battle, let alone make the right call each time.

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Thanks for that badgerx16. That seems to me – admittedly speaking as a layman – like a perfectly valid reason, albeit, very sadly, one with regrettable consequences. I imagine it must be extremely difficult to make these split-second decisions in the heat of battle, let alone make the right call each time.

 

The problem was, as anyone who has served on a T42 will tell you, is that land clutter degrades your ability to fight the ship. Coventry, simply put, should have been further out to sea for her Sea Dart to have been effective.

 

The Sea Dart / Sea Wolf combination should have been a plane killer but the 1st line of defence should always be CAP. T42\ CAP interaction was a cornerstone of that type of ship.

 

CAP, Dart, Wolf, close in weapons, pray, luck. That was your defensive layers.

Edited by View From The Top
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The problem was, as anyone who has served on a T42 will tell you, is that land clutter degrades your ability to fight the ship. Coventry, simply put, should have been further out to sea for her Sea Dart to have been effective.

 

The Sea Dart / Sea Wolf combination should have been a plane killer but the 1st line of defence should always be CAP. T42\ CAP interaction was a cornerstone of that type of ship.

 

CAP, Dart, Wolf, close in weapons, pray, luck. That was your defensive layers.

 

Again very interesting stuff VTTF – much appreciated.

 

The film showed Hart making some of these points to Woodward over the secure phone, before saying to camera that he thought Coventry was regarded by those in charge as a sacrificial pawn. I’m intrigued as to why your instructor at Dryad was scathing of Coventry – it seemed to me they were acting under orders as regards to their position. Or was he scathing about their manoeuvre that rendered Broadsword’s weaponry redundant? Or the decision not to accept assistance from the harriers?

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Again very interesting stuff VTTF – much appreciated.

 

The film showed Hart making some of these points to Woodward over the secure phone, before saying to camera that he thought Coventry was regarded by those in charge as a sacrificial pawn. I’m intrigued as to why your instructor at Dryad was scathing of Coventry – it seemed to me they were acting under orders as regards to their position. Or was he scathing about their manoeuvre that rendered Broadsword’s weaponry redundant? Or the decision not to accept assistance from the harriers?

 

Put simply, Cov' turned the wrong way. If she hadn't then Sea Wolf kills the Sky Hawks. It was the general consensus in the fleet as well.

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Put simply, Cov' turned the wrong way. If she hadn't then Sea Wolf kills the Sky Hawks. It was the general consensus in the fleet as well.

 

Yet the Board of Inquiry into the loss of the HMS Coventry absolved the crew from blame … still, I suppose that wouldn’t be the first time a board of inquiry verdict was at odds with the general consensus in the fleet.

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Yet the Board of Inquiry into the loss of the HMS Coventry absolved the crew from blame … still, I suppose that wouldn’t be the first time a board of inquiry verdict was at odds with the general consensus in the fleet.

 

Heat of battle mistakes are made. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and is always 20/20 but the general consensus in the fleet in the mid-80s was the loss of both Sheffield & Cov' were avoidable but understandable.

 

Mistakes happen in combat situations. Seen it happen myself.

 

It was also a simple f**k up that caused the Atlantic Conveyor to be lost.

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They found that out the hard way.

 

Type 21s were great to serve on but no one wanted to go to war on one!

 

There is a poster on here who is a Falklands Type 21 veteran. Not sure that he wasn't on the Ardent.

 

St Throbber (Rich Harper) from Cardiff Saints is your man. Now a civvy in Police force I believe, but was in the thick of it in Falkland Sound/San Carlos!!

 

Always had an interest in the Falklands War as a few friends of my older brother were on the ground and at sea down there plus brother worked on QE2 kitting it out (with Vospers in King George V)before she sailed south. Bunked school to watch QE2 come home and also popped down to welcome home Canberra.

 

Must have read most books on the war and dropped a hint recently to the missus that I would love to visit the major battlefields down there one day (she did a great Normandy tour for my 40th).

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St Throbber (Rich Harper) from Cardiff Saints is your man. Now a civvy in Police force I believe, but was in the thick of it in Falkland Sound/San Carlos!!

 

Always had an interest in the Falklands War as a few friends of my older brother were on the ground and at sea down there plus brother worked on QE2 kitting it out (with Vospers in King George V)before she sailed south. Bunked school to watch QE2 come home and also popped down to welcome home Canberra.

 

Must have read most books on the war and dropped a hint recently to the missus that I would love to visit the major battlefields down there one day (she did a great Normandy tour for my 40th).

 

I know, just didn't want to mention his name that was all.

 

He and I have spoken about it before, some years ago.

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there were countless lessons from that war

Damage Control training was completely ramped up/changed as the systems etc were just not adequate at the time. Even the uniform was all wrong

 

also, FF/DDs all have 4.5 guns. Type 22 batch 1 and 2 frigates didnt...!!!

im sure i read/heard something ages ago that T23s were originally designed without a 4.5 gun. but the war in 82 changed that

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I know, just didn't want to mention his name that was all.

 

He and I have spoken about it before, some years ago.

 

Thought Throbber was quite open about being in the thick of it down there. Decent bloke, and anyone who has been in the midst of war has my total respect. Pretty sure he was on Alacrity.

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there were countless lessons from that war

Damage Control training was completely ramped up/changed as the systems etc were just not adequate at the time. Even the uniform was all wrong

 

also, FF/DDs all have 4.5 guns. Type 22 batch 1 and 2 frigates didnt...!!!

im sure i read/heard something ages ago that T23s were originally designed without a 4.5 gun. but the war in 82 changed that

 

It seems to me that the uniform and personal equipment is always wrong or inadequate, no matter the conflict! I think the Romans were the only ones who got that right but I guess they had plenty of time to experiment...

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I am having a clear out and I have two publications going free to a good home:

 

The Falklands War, Marshall Cavendish 14 part series in binder

The Battle for the Falklands, Max Hastings & Simon Jenkins, Book Club Associates 1983.

 

Anyone interested please PM me. I can drop them in anywhere in the South Hampshire area.

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there were countless lessons from that war

Damage Control training was completely ramped up/changed as the systems etc were just not adequate at the time. Even the uniform was all wrong

 

also, FF/DDs all have 4.5 guns. Type 22 batch 1 and 2 frigates didnt...!!!

im sure i read/heard something ages ago that T23s were originally designed without a 4.5 gun. but the war in 82 changed that

 

The uniform was the very 1st thing changed. Polyester and heat really didn't go together.

 

Also, grimly, the computer room escape routes needed to be reassessed as the poor buggers could be heard burning to death on both 42s.

 

Formica, it was discovered, doesn't get on well with 500lb bombs and shattered and flew around like razor blade Frisbees.

 

Damage control, portable pumps etc all came in to play and the hoods with the air bottles.

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I was a young man living on the Isle of Wight at the time of the Falklands’ conflict and my local pub overlooked the Solent. I still remember the evening that the landlord announced the MV Norland – a requisitioned car-ferry carrying British troops to the South Atlantic – was passing by. Every man and woman, young and old, went outside to cheer, clap, shout and wave. Only when the ship had disappeared into the far distance did we return to our seats. For a brief period everyone was quiet, as all of us, especially those with family and friends serving in the forces, contemplated the days ahead. I remember my overriding emotion at the time was envy.

 

How I envied those blokes destined for glory, fighting for their country on the other side of the globe, and when I watched them return to Southampton through a sea of Union flags; streamers; a flotilla of little boats decked out in red, white and blue; military bands playing Land of Hope and Glory; and civilian girls wearing Rule Britannia tee-shirts getting their t its out for the lads, my envy knew no bounds.

 

Thirty-two years on, books have been written and films produced (although in many respects, surprising few of the latter). The moment that will stay with me from the re-enactment film linked in the OP is the one when the sailor describes the screams of his shipmates as they burnt to death in the computer room. For anyone like me who wasn’t there it’s impossible to fully understand what effect witnessing that kind of horror must have on an individual.

 

Anyone remember the re-enactment film Tumbledown? When asked what it was like to kill a man, the young Scots’ Guard replied: “They take so long to die.” – about 50 stabs with a broken bayonet as I recall, and all the while the teenage Argentine conscript pleading in the few English words he knew: “please”, “no”, before finally reverting to his mother tongue and crying out for his “mama”. Again, it’s impossible for people like me to fully understand what effect witnessing something like that has on an individual.

 

When does the war end for those that have experienced these kind of horrors? When the adrenaline stops flowing, when their comrades are no longer at their side, when the military band marches on to a new conflict, when their political masters get rich making after-dinner speeches, when arm-chair pundits start questioning the value of what they achieved, when doing what once earned them a medal now earns them a prison sentence, when dead colleagues scream out to them at night; or when they glimpse the terrified gaze of an enemy combatant in the eyes of their own child? I’ve heard veterans say, at times like these, their battle rages with a terrible intensity. How many have succumbed to suicide in the past 32 years? And how about the loved ones of those that never return; when does the war end for them?

 

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old” runs a line from Binyon’s famous epitaph. Yes, those that return from conflicts, and those like me that never experience conflicts, are left to grow old; and sometimes the process of growing old changes us; it did me – I still have, and always will have, the utmost respect for the Falklands’ veterans … but I stopped envying them long ago.

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I was a young man living on the Isle of Wight at the time of the Falklands’ conflict and my local pub overlooked the Solent. I still remember the evening that the landlord announced the MV Norland – a requisitioned car-ferry carrying British troops to the South Atlantic – was passing by. Every man and woman, young and old, went outside to cheer, clap, shout and wave. Only when the ship had disappeared into the far distance did we return to our seats. For a brief period everyone was quiet, as all of us, especially those with family and friends serving in the forces, contemplated the days ahead. I remember my overriding emotion at the time was envy.

 

How I envied those blokes destined for glory, fighting for their country on the other side of the globe, and when I watched them return to Southampton through a sea of Union flags; streamers; a flotilla of little boats decked out in red, white and blue; military bands playing Land of Hope and Glory; and civilian girls wearing Rule Britannia tee-shirts getting their t its out for the lads, my envy knew no bounds.

 

Thirty-two years on, books have been written and films produced (although in many respects, surprising few of the latter). The moment that will stay with me from the re-enactment film linked in the OP is the one when the sailor describes the screams of his shipmates as they burnt to death in the computer room. For anyone like me who wasn’t there it’s impossible to fully understand what effect witnessing that kind of horror must have on an individual.

 

Anyone remember the re-enactment film Tumbledown? When asked what it was like to kill a man, the young Scots’ Guard replied: “They take so long to die.” – about 50 stabs with a broken bayonet as I recall, and all the while the teenage Argentine conscript pleading in the few English words he knew: “please”, “no”, before finally reverting to his mother tongue and crying out for his “mama”. Again, it’s impossible for people like me to fully understand what effect witnessing something like that has on an individual.

 

When does the war end for those that have experienced these kind of horrors? When the adrenaline stops flowing, when their comrades are no longer at their side, when the military band marches on to a new conflict, when their political masters get rich making after-dinner speeches, when arm-chair pundits start questioning the value of what they achieved, when doing what once earned them a medal now earns them a prison sentence, when dead colleagues scream out to them at night; or when they glimpse the terrified gaze of an enemy combatant in the eyes of their own child? I’ve heard veterans say, at times like these, their battle rages with a terrible intensity. How many have succumbed to suicide in the past 32 years? And how about the loved ones of those that never return; when does the war end for them?

 

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old” runs a line from Binyon’s famous epitaph. Yes, those that return from conflicts, and those like me that never experience conflicts, are left to grow old; and sometimes the process of growing old changes us; it did me – I still have, and always will have, the utmost respect for the Falklands’ veterans … but I stopped envying them long ago.

 

Interesting post.

 

Personally speaking I was delighted, in some aspects, to test my mettle in combat having missed The Falklands but I was also damn lucky that my ship suffered no damage so I didn't have to deal with anything horrific but being sat at the EWD's desk in the ops room of a T42, knowing that those who sat in those chairs on Sheffield and Coventry became casualties got my arse twitching when you have inbound business.

 

Tiff friends of mine had their action stations in he computer room. They were shiit scared. We referred to them as the BBQ boys.

 

Cousins (RN & RM) and friends (RN) of mine who are Falkland vets have had no issues but clearly some have. Hearing your shipmates screaming behind a Zulu door and not being able to do anything about it must haunt some minds.

 

War is hell, as they say but if I'd had the opportunity to go down south in 82, even knowing what I now, I'd have done it in a heartbeat.

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A book called war Hero Medic was recently written by the brother of Pierre Naya

The forward is written by Col Jim Ryan who I worked with up until 4 years ago . Jim Ryan a young Capt who worked with Rck jolly of the red and green life machine fame

 

anyway here's the forward of the the late Pierre Nays account if the Falklands

 

By 1982 Pierre was a Staff Sergeant and senior OTT and ripe for duty in a war zone, where our paths would meet. Mike Naya describes in fascinating detail our trip to war in a large cruise liner converted to a troop carrier role. It seemed like a holiday adventure, but that would soon change.

 

Pierre and the author of this foreword were part of a unique unit with its origins in the Western Desert of World War 2. It was called 55 Field Surgical Team or 55 FST, and consisted of two field surgical teams. Pierre was the senior OTT with one of these teams, the author a surgeon with the other team. Fatefully 55 FST would embark on the Landing ship Sir Galahad.

 

The book describes in harrowing detail the subsequent bombing and the heroic behaviour of the man at the centre of this tale - Pierre. For his heroism Pierre was awarded the coveted Military Medal.

 

For the remainder of the war he carried out his duties with the FST in exemplary fashion and at the war's end he and the author and their teams were positioned in the Falkland Islands’ only hospital – the King Edward the VII Memorial Hospital.

 

It was here that this writer came to see at first hand all Pierre’s extraordinary qualities, so eloquently described by the author in the opening section of this book. His generosity of spirit, his cheerfulness and his musical ability shone brightly and cheered all of us on.

 

What we did not know at the time was that Pierre was suffering greatly in silence as a consequence of what he had seen in the bowels of the burning ship. The sights and sounds of men screaming in agony and terror and the dead and dying were eating into him. He never showed these feelings, and sadly we did not notice.

The author then goes on to describe the cost of his brother’s heroism – sadness and depression manifested as post-traumatic stress disorder. To add insult to injury we hear of the Home Office attempt to remove his citizenship when Pierre applied to have his passport, lost on Sir Galahad, replaced. Only after years of anxiety would this be resolved.

 

A heart-breaking story, but all too credible. One puts this book down at once gasping in awe of Pierre. With the love of his wife Nina and his lovely daughters, Pierre gained a degree of solace and was able to enjoy his later years in retirement in the Algarve and return to his fishing and music. He died too young of heart disease, but we who were privileged to know him are left with memories of a unique gentle giant and true war hero.

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I was a young man living on the Isle of Wight at the time of the Falklands’ conflict and my local pub overlooked the Solent. I still remember the evening that the landlord announced the MV Norland – a requisitioned car-ferry carrying British troops to the South Atlantic – was passing by. Every man and woman, young and old, went outside to cheer, clap, shout and wave. Only when the ship had disappeared into the far distance did we return to our seats. For a brief period everyone was quiet, as all of us, especially those with family and friends serving in the forces, contemplated the days ahead. I remember my overriding emotion at the time was envy.

 

How I envied those blokes destined for glory, fighting for their country on the other side of the globe, and when I watched them return to Southampton through a sea of Union flags; streamers; a flotilla of little boats decked out in red, white and blue; military bands playing Land of Hope and Glory; and civilian girls wearing Rule Britannia tee-shirts getting their t its out for the lads, my envy knew no bounds.

 

Thirty-two years on, books have been written and films produced (although in many respects, surprising few of the latter). The moment that will stay with me from the re-enactment film linked in the OP is the one when the sailor describes the screams of his shipmates as they burnt to death in the computer room. For anyone like me who wasn’t there it’s impossible to fully understand what effect witnessing that kind of horror must have on an individual.

 

Anyone remember the re-enactment film Tumbledown? When asked what it was like to kill a man, the young Scots’ Guard replied: “They take so long to die.” – about 50 stabs with a broken bayonet as I recall, and all the while the teenage Argentine conscript pleading in the few English words he knew: “please”, “no”, before finally reverting to his mother tongue and crying out for his “mama”. Again, it’s impossible for people like me to fully understand what effect witnessing something like that has on an individual.

 

When does the war end for those that have experienced these kind of horrors? When the adrenaline stops flowing, when their comrades are no longer at their side, when the military band marches on to a new conflict, when their political masters get rich making after-dinner speeches, when arm-chair pundits start questioning the value of what they achieved, when doing what once earned them a medal now earns them a prison sentence, when dead colleagues scream out to them at night; or when they glimpse the terrified gaze of an enemy combatant in the eyes of their own child? I’ve heard veterans say, at times like these, their battle rages with a terrible intensity. How many have succumbed to suicide in the past 32 years? And how about the loved ones of those that never return; when does the war end for them?

 

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old” runs a line from Binyon’s famous epitaph. Yes, those that return from conflicts, and those like me that never experience conflicts, are left to grow old; and sometimes the process of growing old changes us; it did me – I still have, and always will have, the utmost respect for the Falklands’ veterans … but I stopped envying them long ago.

 

One of the best posts I have read

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