DARWIN HILL

The bodies lay in rows, at the bottom of the hill, to the left of the re-entry, near the RAP, (Regimental Aid Post). I crawled back into the burning gorse. Just to try and keep warm . The smoke, and smell, that seeped into your clothes, and total being, of your body, would stay with you for ever. We sat in little groups, sombre to the fact the CO, and the other officers and blokes, that had been killed that day. The wounded still lay, where they had fallen, their wounds tended to, by their comrades. They were now quietly waiting, to be casevac'd out, and away from the fighting that was still going on around us. Dinger had administered first aid, to Monster Adams, using up all the available first field dressings we had, at the time. Dinger was later to get a commendation, for his treatment of the wounded
under fire.

All our spare warm clothing, had been given to the wounded, who were now dressed, in a rag tag affair, of thermal quilted, trousers/jackets, and waterproofs. Others, lay in exposed inaccessible slopes, where they were overseen by the enemy trenches, making it impossible to retrieve them, or administer first aid. We had been taught, that it was better to leave the wounded, and fight on through, to capture the objective. Returning later, to check casualties, and dress wounds, where necessary. Unfortunately, we had progressed no further, than where the injured had fallen. Held up, by the depth positions of the Argy trenches.

During the assault of Darwin hill, I had become separated from the main body, and had only managed to regroup, after some period of time. Helping to spot for a couple of GPMG's, with the laser bino's we had managed to obtain, while on board the Norland. Dinger, PJ, and myself, had managed to collect some of the enemie's grenades, which lay strewn all around their positions. They were black, Bakelite affairs, with two fuse settings. The pins had been removed, and the firing levers were held down with elastic bands. We had managed to amass, quite a considerable amount of these grenades, and were eagerly awaiting the opportunity to use them.

It was shortly after, the Adj., Captain Woods, was killed, leading yet another assault, on the enemy trenches, that we saw an Argentinean officer, attempt to throw, one of the grenades, like we had been collecting. It had only  travelled, a matter of inches from him, as it arced in the air, when it went off, covering his body, with burning phosphorous. Turning him, into a human fire ball.

Apparently, the two fuse settings, must have been, today, and yesterday. Gingerly, we emptied our pockets, and pouches, of the offending grenades. Leaving them in little piles, for the engineers to defuse, or safely detonate. There were already, considerable amounts, of British grenades, strewn about us, which also, had failed to detonate. It was a task I did not envy them.

Eventually, the lads managed to capture, or take out, the row of enemy trenches, which had thwarted us. The top of Darwin hill, was flat for a couple of hundred metres, then, yet another row of gorse bushes, where it then dropped down, to the airfield, and the settlement of Goosegreen. The row of gorse,  obscured from view, anyone on the top. But the forward slope, down to the settlement, apart from a few gullys, was totally bare arsed. The enemy anti-aircraft gunners, had turned their guns, to the forward slope and the crest of the hill. Where, they merrily raked, from left to right, and back again, every exposed piece of ground. Their heavy, 50 cals., and 47mms., taking a heavy toll on our advancing troops. Dinger, and Captain Watson, had disappeared up the slope, through the smoky haze. Shortly before this, Captain Dent, had also been killed, going up the same part of the gully. I did not honestly expect, to see either of them again.

The CO's signaller, myself, and three others, went off, up the hill. It was to recover H, the CO, and bring him back down, for a casevac, by chopper. When we got to him, it was however, apparent, that he was already dead. He sat with his quilted jacket on, hands clutching his stomach, a slightly dazed, and shocked, expression, on his face. His trousers, had been loosened to administer the saline drip.We carried him none too ceremoniously, on the up turned roof, from one of the trenches .Still hoping, that perhaps, some miracle could be performed by the medics. The corrugated iron, unfortunately splitting, like bomb doors on an aircraft, causing us to stop, and make another improvised stretcher, with FN files, and water proofs. When we got back to the main position, others took over from us, and took him to the RAP.

PJ and I, set about with some of the others, under the direction of the CSM, Colin Price, to start, and check\clear, the trenches of the enemy dead. Gathering what suitable ammo there was. We apparently, were running a bit low. I flipped back the corrugated-iron roof covering, from the first trench, while PJ covered me. As I flicked off the second piece, we could see two bodies, in the trench. One, was lying face down, on the left hand end of the trench. The other, in a semi sitting position, on the right, with a big hole in his right leg. About where the knee cap should be. He was wearing one of those silly, deputy dog, hats, that we'd been told not to wear, in case it caused a blue on blue situation. His head was forward, chin on chest, the greyish blue pallor of death, filled his face. Nodding at PJ, I jumped down in the trench. I then slung my weapon, round my back . I needed both hands free, and my SMG was getting in the way. PJ, was still covering me, and there wasn't a lot of room in the trench anyway.

I bent down again, in the bottom of the trench. As I leaned forward to check the body which was in the sitting position, his eyes opened. I fell back on my arse. I was franticly trying to grab the pistol butt, of my SMG, but couldn't . As it was now dug into the side of the trench, I had thrown my self back against. He raised his hands, palms extended, to show he didn't have a weapon, crying in Spanish. He was asking for his mother, and mercy . What saved his life was, that something in the trench fell, striking metal on metal, me seeing his open hands, and thinking grenade, decided to leave the trench, and, like, now! Without any further thinking involved, I was up, and out. Rolling down the slope, shouting, "grenade". I crossed straight through PJ's arcs, and at the cry of grenade, he too, rolled back from the edge.

When there was no explosion, or any sound, other than the wounded soldier, crying in the bottom of the trench, we went back for a look. Judging it safe, I jumped back down in the trench. It turned out, he wasn't armed any more. His weapon, was in the far end of the trench, near the body of his friend. He had been shot in the knee, by his own officer, to stop him from running away. While the officer, buggered off himself, back to the safety of Goosegreen. Leaving the rest, leaderless, and to their fate, against the advancing British Para's. All the enemy wounded, were taken down the hill, to the Regt'l Aid Post, to sort them out.The dead, were laid out in rows, near our own.

Meanwhile, Dinger had come back down, from the forward ridgeline. PJ and I, went off to take his place, with Capt. Watson. Major Rice, the artillery Battery Commander, and his crew, were now up there, assessing the situation. He now had command of the battalion, being the senior officer. PJ went towards the gorse, where Capt. Watson, and Major Rice, the BC, were. I joined Bob McGoldrick, the BC's signaller, who was sitting in a small fold, in the ground making a brew. Directly behind us, there was a Royal marine, with a blowpipe, a hand held, ground to air, missile.

Although we were below the 50 cal., and 47 mm. fire, we were being subjected, to mortar, and 105 mm, howitzer fire. It seemed that the fire was sporadic, at the time, but, we had had a couple of lefts, and rights, of single 105 mm rounds. With one now going over the top of us. Typical method of adjustment for artillery fire. Bob had a hole in his helmet, where a round had struck, then zipped round the inside, and came out the other side. He, like me, was still wearing, one of the old, steel, Para helmets, having more faith in it, than the new plastic ones. The rest of them, were now making their way back from the ridge, and heading, at a fair rate of knots, for the reverse slope.

Bob needed no bidding, and was also gathering up his bits and pieces, making sure, he didn't spill, or waste, the brew, he'd been making. Water was still in short supply. So we couldn't afford to throw it away. Besides, it was nearly ready to drink. We called to the lone Marine, who was now standing in a small gap, in the gorse, totally sky-lined, on the ridge. His Blowpipe  on his shoulder, even from where we were.  We heard the pop of the front plate, and saw the launcher dip. He was trying to engage, one, or some, of the aircraft, that were still taking off, from the airfield, at Goosegreen. There was an explosion, and then, a plume of black smoke, rose in the air. We called again to him, that we were leaving, but, he was now jumping up, and down, waving his arms in the air. Doing a little victory dance, all by himself. He'd got one. We turned off, and headed for the others, the whistling of rounds in the air, as yet even more, 105 mm rounds, headed our way.

It was only still, day one, of the battle for Darwin, and Goosegreen.