In April 1982, as the Falklands War got underway, HMS Antrim steamed south through the Atlantic. On board was 28-year-old Lieutenant, Chris Parry. Parry kept a diary for ten weeks which recounted in vivid detail the action at sea and in the air, as well as daily life on board ship.
30 years later Down South: A Falklands War Diary has been published. Parry spoke to the Spectator about why the sinking of the Belgrano boat was justified, how talking about war prevents suicide, and the role the British press played in the conflict.
When and why did you start keeping a diary?
I began my diary on 3 April 1982, the day after the Argentinians invaded the Falklands because I thought that we might be about to embark on an unusual deployment. Hardly anyone I knew in the Royal Navy had been to the South Atlantic and, even if there was not going to be any action; I judged that the trip might be worth recording. By then things had been, and were, happening around me that were new and exciting — a real break from the familiar Cold War routine and with the distant prospect of adventure on the far side of the world.
Do you still hold the same convictions about the war, looking back on it 30 years later?
I think maturity gives you a different perspective. I read the diary now and I think it’s very black and white.
Do you think Margaret Thatcher’s decision to go to war in the Falklands was politically motivated?
The Conservative government would have fallen immediately had the Falkland Islands been captured by the Argentinians.
Do you still believe the sinking of the Belgrano, which resulted in the deaths of 323 Argentinean men, was justified?
The Belgrano was a very dangerous ship. The intended consequence was to sink her and show the Argentineans the power of our nuclear submarines. The Argentinean navy then went straight back to the port for the rest of the conflict. So it avoided more bloodshed later on. My views haven’t changed.
What role do you think the British press played in the Falklands War?
The problem was they didn’t have the technology that you have in today’s world. The time scale in getting news back could be as long as two weeks. So in the UK, they got into speculation. The worst example of this was an MP called Ted Rowlands, who had been given some privileged information. He revealed in the House of Commons that the navy had a facility that enabled them to listen to the Argentinean codes. It was a dreadful use of the privilege of Parliament. The press reported it and the Argentineans picked it up.
What was the relationship between the British and the Argentinean POW’s like?
They were terrified of what we might do to them. This was from what they learned their own side could do to them back in the Dirty War. We had a couple of prisoners who were totally convinced that we were going to push them out into the water. Part of the business of the Falklands is the Argentinean forces trying to purge themselves, or trying to validate themselves after having been involved in this dirty war against their own people. It’s quite disgusting really.
What was the cost to Falkland veterans’ mental health in the war?
I think you have to differentiate from short-term wobbling and long-term post- traumatic stress. In 1982, the whole issue of post-traumatic stress was not known about. When I came back from the Falklands, my father said, ‘Look we are going to go down the pub, and you are going to tell me what happened. If you don’t talk it out, it will go deep and come out some other time.’ The people who did have major issues were the ones who were flown back very quickly. The Welsh Guards, for example, had problems with people trying to throw themselves off the back of ships.
Was religion a source of comfort to you during the Falklands War?
I think you have to have a bit of faith to stand in the middle of all this. You have to believe that somebody is looking after you. I think of prayer as meditation anyway. It just enables you to think clearly about what you are doing.
How do you deal with the prospect of death when you are at war?
The time to think about death is not when you are in combat, but when you join the service. It’s like that scene in The Godfather when Don Corleone is asked for a favour and he says that one day I might ask for a favour back. The armed forces are a bit like that. We give you employment, training and a good professional life, but one day we may call that favour in. And you need to make that choice when you join, not when you go into combat.
How did the war change your outlook on life?
My expression comes from Henry V: I’m just a warrior for the working day. Has it changed me? Yeah.
How does it affect you psychologically knowing you have to kill someone in order to survive in war?
I see this as my job. I do it as humanely, quickly, and as a legitimately as I can. I then come home to my wife and kids and resume life. If we trust people to do these things on our behalf, they have to be good at it and do the job properly. That was something I was very conscious of throughout the Falklands. That’s why the profession of arms is such a responsibility for those who take it seriously. If you don’t, you’re not worthy of doing it.
How would you describe your overall experience in the Falklands?
I hesitate to say this, but it was tremendous fun. This might sound unfashionable, but it was like playing international soccer every day of the week, and if you’re winning, it’s great too. I got scared a couple of times, and you feel strangely vulnerable. Ernest Hemmingway said that “nothing is ever bad before it happens, or after it happens, it’s only bad at the time”, and I think that’s quite wise in this context.
Down South: A Falklands War Diary, by Chris Parry is published by Penguin. RRP: £20.00
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