The Falklands: Healing the Wounds

Three Welsh veterans of a war fought 30 years ago,

halfway around the world.

EXPLOSION

SHOUTING

The conflict cast a long shadow

and with every passing anniversary they kept quiet.

Now they're on a pilgrimage back to the South Atlantic

to heal their wounds and lay their ghosts to rest.

These are the untold stories of the Falklands War.

I'm getting an opportunity to say goodbye to my friends once and for all and...

..making apologies and...

..and putting it to bed.

There's that thing at the back of my mind

that says it might not be enough.

There is a mixture of apprehension there and great interest

to see how it is nowadays as opposed to back in '82.

I've no nerves and no real apprehensions.

You never know what the trip might throw up.

Just take it as it comes and hope it all goes well.

TANNOY: 'On behalf of the captain and the crew, it's been our pleasure looking after you.

'We'd like to wish you a pleasant stay here.'

For some old soldiers, the war isn't over when the fighting stops.

Steve Dawkins is one.

Probably the darkest time of my life.

I made a decision...

..to end my life.

This was the point where I was going to do it.

I wanted it to be quick, I didn't want to suffer.

I didn't want to suffer any more.

And...

..I was waiting for the first train to come through.

I came back from the Falklands, yes, I was angry,

there was a lot of anger there and sadness at the loss of friends.

It wasn't until five years later,

I started getting the flashbacks and the nightmares.

I get down, I get miserable.

I mean, downright miserable.

Steve was a medic on the supply ship Sir Galahad

with the Welsh Guards when it was hit by Argentine bombs.

Among the 50 men killed were two of his closest comrades.

I never really had the chance to say goodbye to Kenny.

And Scouse.

I need to bury that ghost.

Talk to them and say...

I'm sorry.

But it wasn't really my fault, but I'm still sorry.

I've never been so more sorry in all my life.

Llanfairfechan on the north Wales coast.

Paratrooper David Jones left here aged 21

to fight in the decisive battles of the Falklands War.

He was greeted as a hero on his return to the village.

Others were less fortunate.

In a small village, five of us had gone off to the Falklands.

Only three of us came back.

One killed and the other lad lost his legs.

Added to the roll call of dead from two world wars,

a new name from 1982.

Gareth Hughes, David's best friend.

'I knew he was in the Welsh Guards'

and the Welsh Guards were in the Falklands.

But I had no clue he was on the Galahad.

It didn't feel right that we should celebrate coming back

and with Gareth not coming back.

Dilwyn Rogers was just 20 when he went to war.

In one of the last battles before the Argentine surrender,

23 of his comrades were killed,

the worst death toll of any single action.

I did get involved with the job of putting the dead into body bags.

Some of their eyes still open.

You know...

you could almost see their eyes are pleading.

But there's nothing, nothing you can do for them.

Could I have done nothing different? Would I have done nothing different?

I'd like to go back and just put everything to bed once and for all.

# Estirpe de nobles varones

# Varones de temple tenaz... #

April 2nd 1982.

Argentina invades the Falkland Islands,

a bleak, barren relic of the British Empire

300 miles off the coast of South America.

The reaction of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher is swift and uncompromising.

Britain will not give up sovereignty without a fight.

The most powerful fleet Britain has ever put to sea heads south.

BAND PLAYS

We got a telegram with one word - Bruneville.

What that meant is return to base as soon as you could,

which we did.

And we saw it on the news just before sailing on the 6th April.

If you'd asked me at the time, where is the Falklands,

I'd have suggested you go top of Scotland and ask somebody for directions from there.

It never dawned on me that it would develop into a full-blown war.

There was a lot of bravado, euphoria.

Pretty gung-ho, really.

And then when we got down past the Ascension Islands

we realised we were going to be part of the big battle.

And it took on a whole new meaning.

A bitter air and sea war left the land troops in no doubt

this was deadly serious.

Hostilities reached a new pitch on May 2nd

when a navy submarine sank the Argentine cruiser, General Belgrano,

positioned just outside the British exclusion zone.

323 men were killed.

The Argentine air force hit back with venom.

20 died on the destroyer HMS Sheffield,

all the damage done by a single Exocet missile.

We knew there was a proper naval war going on

and our turn would be next with the land campaign.

After four weeks at sea, British troops reached San Carlos Water,

well away from the mass of Argentine forces in the capital, Stanley.

Soldiers like David Jones had seen action in Northern Ireland

but few were prepared for the new dangers they would face

in the South Atlantic.

A few days out we were given the opportunity to write a last letter.

It's dated the 20th May so it's the day before we went in.

I wrote it to my father.

"We're within hours of going in now.

"We've been given our morphine, ammo and the final orders.

"We're going in by landing craft.

"The seas are pretty rough so I'm not looking forward to it."

"The pack I'm carrying ashore is one of the heaviest I've ever carried.

"In addition to my own kit, I'm carrying spare mortar bombs and extra ammo for the guns.

"It weighs a tonne.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk straight when I touch dry land.

"How's life in Llan? Anything happening?

"I'll have to go now and I hope to hear from you soon."

Not much of a last letter really.

After thousands of miles at sea,

the troops' first sight of human habitation was the settlement at San Carlos.

But if British forces landing here were hoping for a safe haven,

the Argentine air force, fired up by recent successes, had other ideas.

Is this where you landed, David?

Yes. 2 Para came ashore here to beach two.

-Was it still dark when you landed?

-Yeah, pitch dark.

The landing was unopposed by Argentine ground forces,

but the threat from the air was ever present.

I personally had no idea what to expect.

We'd never been... I'd never seen a landing craft before.

So, it was all a new experience and not one that I liked.

I was very scared out on the water there.

If somebody engaged you with small arms fire, you're all confined,

in one of those things like sardines.

If a shell tips you over, you're in the water with your packs.

You wouldn't have a chance, nobody could swim from there.

Nervous. Excitement. Apprehension.

As we were coming in we were passing Fanning Head, which is over there.

There was a firefight going on over there.

Being in the landing craft, we felt quite vulnerable

because first light was breaking up

and any aircraft coming in, we'd have been sitting ducks.

The propellers of the landing craft were snagging in the kelp

so they were unable to get us in.

They brought in two smaller landing craft and these got us in close to land

and with a jump, we managed to get ashore with dry feet.

By the time Steve Dawkins landed here

with the second wave of troops from 5th Infantry Brigade,

the beachhead at San Carlos was well established

and the nickname Bomb Alley well earned.

It was scary. I could see the look of fear on my two guys faces

who were at action stations with us.

They were petrified and I was probably the same.

We knew people were going to get hurt.

We knew people were going to die.

We knew it could possibly be us.

We were quickly spotted by the Argentinian air force

and they took their toll.

Every night there was a casualty report.

Another ship had been hit and they'd announce the number of casualties

and it became very, very real.

For several days, dug in with 2 Para on the high ground above San Carlos,

David had a grandstand view of the havoc wreaked by Argentine fighter jets.

We're on Sussex Mountains now in the middle of 2 Para's positions

back in 1982.

As you can see, the remnants of 2 Para's visit are still here.

The camouflage netting is still here.

You can see it all around.

Some sandbags.

The remnants are still here.

Also, you can see some rations here.

Beef paste, no, cheese tin.

Biscuits. Fruit. AB.

These were all part of the rations that were issued at the time.

You can see behind me, 2 Para had a fantastic view over San Carlos

which later became notorious as Bomb Alley.

I remember one night when I was on stag, on watch, here,

the Antelope was in the bay.

We later learned they were trying to diffuse a bomb inside the boat.

It went off.

A massive explosion lit up the whole area. Broke the ship's back.

It sank down there.

HMS Antelope was one among many.

Three quarters of British fighting ships were sunk or damaged

around the Falklands.

The Argentines would come over these hills here.

Do their bombing run, strafing run, on the ships.

We could see a few of them getting shot down

by the ship's missiles or machines guns, whatever they had.

MACHINE GUN FIRE

The outer aircraft fire would follow them up

and they'd come up the valley here and come directly over us.

As they would come up here,

2 Para would put up a wall of small arms fire.

Some lads would be lying on their backs shooting straight up.

It would be like a curtain of lead. They would have to fly through it.

There was quite obvious damage we caused because high octane

would drift on us and you could smell on it and feel it on you.

Very, very high.

The troops here were eager to get on and get at the Argentines.

And then we moved on to Goose Green and the battle ensued from there.

As David headed south to Goose Green with 2 Para,

Royal Engineer Dilwyn Rogers, attached to 3 Para,

went east towards Stanley.

Most of Britain's helicopters had been lost when the cargo ship

Atlantic Conveyor was destroyed by Exocet missiles.

There was no choice but to move on foot, weighed down with kit and ammunition.

The weather was against us, the conditions were against us.

It was a shit hole, excuse the phrase.

Very few tracks.

And undulating, wet, boggy, windy.

Your feet were wet from day one but it's what you're trained for

and despite a few mutterings, everybody just got on with it.

Meanwhile, 2 Para pushed on south to Darwin and Goose Green.

A gravel road now makes the journey easier than it was 30 years ago.

This is the scene of the first land battle of the war

and for David, one of 2 Para's finest hours.

A single battalion 600 strong

took on an Argentine garrison of more than a thousand.

The battle may never have taken place

if the true odds were known.

I heard the command given to the rifle companies, fix bayonets.

That brought me home

to the reality of what the situation was.

You'd be a liar if you said you weren't scared.

The direction I travelled was coming over down to this area

which was the regimental aid post.

As you can see, the debris of war is still in the area here.

Some ammo boxes or some cases.

There was a lot of shelling and mortar firing going on here.

I got bowled over with that.

I clearly remember being a bit dazed and coming to

and seeing a smouldering shell hole.

We continued walking that way and over towards the Darwin direction.

The taking of Darwin Hill was a key objective,

but it cost the life of David's commanding officer,

Lieutenant Colonel H Jones.

Shot leading from the front in an act of almost reckless bravery

that won him a posthumous Victoria Cross.

The Argentines were well dug in,

much better prepared than expected and with strength in depth.

This is one of the surviving Argentine trenches

or bunker positions on Darwin Hill.

The rubbish of war you can still see here, Argentine blankets.

Very well positioned.

It's given them an advantage over this open ground here.

You can see how exposed 2 Para's advance was over seven kilometres towards this area.

We came under fire coming down that track.

We had dashed down onto the beach.

The mortar bomb landed about 10 foot away from me

and just buried itself into the shingle with its fins out

and it didn't explode. I was very, very lucky there.

We had to come out and make a dash for it into the gorse gully here

where A Company had very heavy fighting and sustained a lot of casualties.

The battle over, and the gorse and peat still smouldering,

2 Para counted the cost.

17 dead, 36 wounded.

On the Argentine side the losses were much heavier

and hundreds of troops had surrendered.

It's a testament to the skill, determination and courage

of the soldiers of the Parachute Regiment.

-Hip-hip!

-Hurray!

-Hip-hip!

-Hurray!

-Hip-hip!

-Hurray!

In the village of Goose Green, the Paras celebrated with families

who'd been held captive for weeks in the community hall.

More pressing what to do with over a thousand Argentine prisoners of war?

David was one of the soldiers tasked with keeping them

under guard in giant sheep sheds on the edge of the settlement.

There were jobs to do and the Paras soon set their captives to work.

The work party I was in charge of, my task was to write POW

and the Spanish equivalent, PG, on these sheep sheds,

on the sides and on the roof.

I was speaking with some local inhabitants here earlier on today

and they wish they could find the same paint we used,

as this paint has lasted 30 years and it's still visible here

and they've had to paint different areas many times since.

The men of 2 Para who'd fallen in battle

were buried in a temporary mass grave overlooking the sea.

Lieutenant Colonel Jones.

Captain Wood.

Captain Dent.

It was a sobering reminder that this was a brutal shooting war.

But there was worse to come.

Corporal Prior.

At the start of June, more British troops came ashore

with 5 Brigade at San Carlos.

Among them the Welsh Guards and medics from 16 Field Ambulance.

They were then taken by sea to the south of the island

in preparation for the assault on Stanley.

Their journey brought them to the sheltered waters of Fitzroy

aboard the supply ship Sir Galahad.

It was a day very much like it is today.

Beautiful, pristine, blue skies.

Absolutely clear.

And then...

aircraft came in from left to right.

The Galahad was behind the headland over there,

along with the Tristram, offloading, when they hit us.

Then all hell broke loose.

There was smoke, bullets ricocheting,

ammunition exploding, mortars exploding.

There were bodies coming out of everywhere.

All this time, the smoke, the fire was coming out of the tank deck right by us.

We needed to see if there was anybody else we could help.

But we couldn't get in there, we couldn't use the breathing apparatus,

we didn't know how to use it,

and the heat that was coming out and the smoke,

just couldn't get down to the poor buggers.

You could hear them. You could hear them down there.

We couldn't do anything for them.

50 were killed, many more badly burned or injured.

Squeeze his arm.

Steve's training as a medic was called upon as never before.

There's people with limbs missing, people with horrendous burns

with skin just dripping off their face and hands.

Some were screaming.

You didn't mind the screamers, you knew they were going to be all right.

It was the ones that were in shock you needed to give the priority to.

Among the first on the scene were David and comrades from 2 Para,

recently arrived from Goose Green.

When they were coming to shore in their dinghies and rowing boats,

quite suddenly you realised they were Welsh Guards.

We were helping them ashore here. Pulling on the boats.

Come on! Pull it! Come on!

But David had no inkling that among the victims

was his best friend, Gareth Hughes.

I'd known him for ever, basically.

Prior to infant school and onwards from then.

He joined the Welsh Guards a few years before me

and I joined the Parachute Regiment.

On the day, we knew there's fatalities on the boat.

Who and how many, I didn't have a clue.

As the campaign progressed on the Falklands

I became aware that the bulk of the Welsh Guards

are among the numbers involved.

I certainly didn't know Gareth had been killed.

We need two stretchers urgently!

I can see the guys coming in, rowing in,

and the guys from 2 Para pulling them out up to their waist in water.

Just being here, I can feel the cold of the water on my legs.

Smell... I can smell the burns.

I can smell the burnt hair.

I can remember every single detail of that day.

It was hell.

It was hell.

No fighting army can function without medics.

16 Field Ambulance came to the Falklands not to take lives

but to save them, regardless of what side the casualties were on.

Among the medics on the Galahad were two of Steve's closest comrades,

Lance Corporal Ian "Scouse" Farrell and Private Kenny Preston.

Kenny and Scouse were good mates and the section corporal asked me

to tell me to get their arse down to the tank deck

because they were prepping to go off.

They were attached to the Welsh Guards.

I saw them in the galley and I said,

"You two, get your arse down to the tank deck."

And it was moments later, minutes later, that the explosion happened.

They were sitting on top of the mortar ammunition

when they were last seen alive.

I think the only, only thing I can take away from that

is they probably died instantly and didn't suffer as others had done.

If I hadn't said anything, hadn't seen them,

they'd probably still be alive today.

You just blame yourself and you wrap yourself up in that guilt

and you keep it to yourself.

You don't want anybody to know that you're, you're a bad man.

I felt like a bad man.

Maybe that's how murderers feel when they've killed somebody.

I need closure. I need to say goodbye to the lads.

I never really said goodbye to the lads.

Yes, we've had memorial services but I want to speak to them personally.

They're here, they're out there somewhere...

in a watery grave.

I've got to say goodbye to them.

That's personal to me. It's personal, sorry...

HE SOBS

Sorry, guys.

(Sorry. So sorry.)

# Goodness and mercy all my life

# Shall surely follow me... #

With the wreck of the Galahad smouldering in the background,

the survivors held a memorial service for the dead

on the deck of her sister ship, Sir Tristram.

# ..My dwelling place shall be. #

That was probably the first time I showed any emotion.

We started off with a prayer, dedication

and the Welsh National anthem.

# Gwlad, gwlad... #

That's when I broke down.

I couldn't bring myself to sing it.

I think it brought it all home to us that, you know,

we'd lost people we cared about.

# I'r bur hoff bau

# O bydded i'r hen iaith barhau. #

Names were read out by the RSM of the Welsh Guards.

LAST POST

Lance Corporal Nicholas David Mark Thomas.

Guardsman Gareth Hughes.

Each one in turn and then they came to our unit.

Names of my mates.

Lance Corporal Ian Farrell.

Private Kenny Preston.

It was emotional.

I think it brought it home that they were gone.

They wouldn't be coming back.

The loss of the Galahad at Fitzroy was the worst setback of the war

and slowed the final assault on Stanley at a point

when the British Army was running out of time and resources.

Most of the Argentine strength was concentrated in Stanley

or dug into the high ground that circles the town like a fortress.

Opening the way was the toughest objective of all - Mount Longdon.

3 Para would attack under cover of darkness

and Dilwyn Rogers was with them every step of the way.

As you can see, down to our left, this is the approach route we took,

from Estancia House, came over that shoulder, down into the open ground

and before us, here, you can see how exposed it is,

it was believed it was one big minefield.

The plan was, rather than try and clear a route through,

we'd walk through the minefield and take the casualties.

Unfortunately, one of the guys from Air Company stood on a mine

and that's when the silent approach went noisy.

After that, all hell let loose.

EXPLOSION

There was flares going up and there was just rounds flying to-and-fro

and as you look up now, you see all these rocks,

it's a formidable defensive position.

It goes back in stages so there was defence in depth.

EXPLOSION

Over here to the right, they set up the regimental aid post,

and this is where all the casualties were to be brought.

At first light we were asked to conduct some casualty evacuation.

There was still fierce fighting going up

and a lot of it was close and personal, you know?

Very traumatic stuff.

That's when it became apparent how much casualties had been sustained.

For the rest of the day, really, we were carrying these casualties.

We were coming down this gully here and bringing them to the regimental aid post, known as the RAP,

and then back up again, back and forth.

Meanwhile, there's fighting going on, bullets flying everywhere

and this continuous barrage of artillery from the Argentinians.

EXPLOSION

EXPLOSION

It was difficult. Guys were slipping off the stretcher.

You're doing your best to hold them on without causing any further pain.

We were coming round on a stretcher

and an Argentinian soldier came up from some rocks.

I had my left hand on the stretcher and my right hand on the riffle.

I thought, "What do we do here?"

There was some guys from B Company over my left shoulder shouting, "Shoot him, shoot him!"

Somebody else was over here saying, "Shoot him, shoot him!" I fired a couple of rounds at him.

Realistically, I don't know whether I hit him,

but the other guys around me opened up and this guy went down. He wasn't a problem any more.

He could have killed us so I have no problems with that.

You join the Army, you have to accept you may well have to kill somebody.

It's not ideal, but that's the profession you've joined.

On the British side, 23 soldiers were killed,

and 47 wounded.

The highest toll of any single battle.

This area is where all the dead were placed.

They were all lined up here in a row.

At some stage they had to be put in body bags.

I was one of the individuals given that task.

It, erm...

..it wasn't a pleasant task - obviously not.

The body bags weren't very accommodating.

It was very tight and difficult to get them into the bags.

Erm...

sometimes you had to sit them up

and force the oxygen out of the lungs through the vocal chords.

And then, "Whoa," I thought they were still alive and called the medic over.

And, erm...

..he'd correct you quickly - "Stupid bugger!"

So...

a lot of times I'd put them into the bags

and some of them still had their eyes wide open.

That's some sort of indication of how sudden death came to them.

Some of the guys here were 17, 18.

And amongst them were some very experienced soldiers.

And, you know, well...

..it just highlighted how... vulnerable we really all are.

Quite a lot of them,

it was difficult to tell how they'd died, you know?

They seemed to have no marks on them but, you know, it doesn't take much.

We treated them with as much dignity as possible.

I don't think we'd have caused any offence to anybody

if they'd seen the way we'd dealt with them.

They were dealt with the greatest respect

and it was sad.

Bitter close quarter battles in the mountains opened the way to Stanley.

More and more Argentine soldiers, many of them young conscripts,

lacked the stomach for continued fighting.

In the daylight you could see all Argentinians pouring down

from all directions,

all making a B-line back to Stanley.

The announcement was made that white flags were up over Stanley.

Negotiations will start tonight.

There is a white flag flying over Stanley.

Bloody marvellous.

Once you got into Stanley, it was quite chaotic, really.

There was Argentinians everywhere.

Then you had 2 and 3 Para pouring in from one end.

Then you had Marines coming down, Guards from different directions.

It was just chaos.

It just seemed like we were mingling with the Argentinians.

There didn't seem to be any plan as to what to do with them.

I remember looking at the Argentinians thinking, "Christ, some of these look young."

An Argentinian officer spoke to me. His English was very good.

He thought we all looked young.

All young together.

Madness.

Thousands of Argentine prisoners, almost too many to handle,

and everywhere, discarded weapons, bullets and explosives.

With the Argentinians having streamed down from the mountains into Stanley,

obviously, they were ditching kit as they went along so there was helmets, weapons, coats, blankets.

Doors wide open, people rummaging for food and what have you.

The rubbish of war was here.

Container boxes on the way in full of munition stores,

Argentine artillery lines were here,

gun lines and all the abandoned helicopters.

Thousands of Argentine soldiers

walking about here, looking quite dejected.

And they were a really sorry state.

They were feeling sorry for themselves as well.

A lot were huddled in blankets, walking around.

I'm sure they were glad that it had finished.

We were sent down one day to a shed at the back, here,

to look after some Argentinian engineers.

They were supposed to be directing us as to where the minefield was

and to help us clear it.

I started talking to them in English and asked them where they came from.

He said, "I come from Puerto Madryn."

There was a blank look on my face and I said, "Where's that, then?"

And he said, he explained that it was in Patagonia.

I'd heard of Patagonia and aware of the Welsh link there.

I jokingly asked him if he spoke Welsh and he replied, "Yes."

It was a bit of a shock. I started talking Welsh to the lad.

He made the gesture of offering me this.

1,000 pesos.

Yeah, a strange experience.

I hadn't given it much thought on the way down - Patagonia, Argentina.

David and Dilwyn are visiting the Argentine cemetery in Darwin.

It's a memorial and final resting place for soldiers killed

not just at Darwin and Goose Green but throughout the conflict.

The war cost the lives of 649 Argentinians.

There's always a sadness to every cemetery

but, particularly with this one, I notice so many of the graves

marked, "An Argentine soldier known only unto God",

which is particularly sad, and there's a high percentage of them here,

which I think is a sad reflection on the way the Argentines have treated their dead.

There's every chance that David and Dilwyn played a direct part

in battles that cost the lives of Argentine soldiers buried here.

I may well have contributed to the death of one individual.

If I was responsible, it's something I have to accept and deal with it.

There's no shortage of memorials for the British dead.

Signs everywhere of the islanders' gratitude for sacrifices made.

In all, 255 died.

Each one a father, son,

brother, friend.

And for David, his best friend, Gareth Hughes.

I knew the Welsh Guards were on board The Galahad,

and that they sustained casualties.

I don't think I knew at the time the extent of the casualties

or who the casualties were.

Once we were in Stanley here after the surrender,

I received a letter from a church minister,

from a chaplain in Llanfairfechan called Mr OJ Pritchard,

and in that letter, he informed me that Gareth had been killed.

It's dated 15th June 1982.

I'll try and summarise it, it's written in Welsh.

"There's a great deal of sadness in Llanfair

"knowing that Gareth Hughes was killed.

"As one who's there, his mother and father

"would be very grateful of any information you could give them."

It was a big shock.

And very sad at it as well.

Returning there and knowing the family,

seeing his mother and father,

a great deal of survivors' guilt comes into it.

Why am I there and he's not?

The cemetery at San Carlos commemorates all the British dead.

Many bodies were repatriated to the UK.

Some were laid to rest in Falkland soil.

'It's peaceful.

'It's a place of peace.

'For all the hell they went through.'

The Galahad was sunk as a war grave.

The names of her dead are etched in stone.

They deserve every credit for their heroism,

however big, however small.

It's a worthy monument.

It's good to see my two mates' names inscribed.

Lost at sea. Buried somewhere out there in the South Atlantic.

Today, the Falklands are prospering,

thanks to lucrative fisheries, tourism and oil exploration offshore.

Most of the 3,000 inhabitants cling proudly to the emblems of Britishness.

And amid growing sabre-rattling from Argentina,

and claims that Britain is militarising the South Atlantic,

the UK is committed to reassuring the islanders

with what it calls a minimal deterrence force.

There's a large garrison at Mount Pleasant,

numbering around 1,200 military personnel.

And as well as an infantry company and a Royal Navy patrol vessel,

four state-of-the-art Typhoon fighter aircraft are stationed here.

The UK has no truck with Argentina's continued sovereignty claim,

and says the territory will remain British

for as long as the islanders want it to.

I've seen it in a completely new light.

You've only got to look at Stanley,

they've all got a good quality of life.

It's good to see how the place has developed and it's thriving.

It is worthwhile because it has secured their way of life,

and hopefully it will allow them to self-determine their future.

We haven't seen the layout of the land of Goose Green and Longdon.

It drives home the courage and skill that was required

to achieve both objectives and a greater respect than ever

for both Second and Third Para battalions, it's awesome.

It was good to walk in the footsteps of warriors

and the bravery of those guys to take those objectives,

hats off to you guys.

From the Argentine invasion on April 2nd 1982

to the surrender on June 14th,

the conflict had lasted just 74 days.

Steve was happy to head home aboard the hospital ship Uganda.

I ran the bar, so we had all this excess beer,

and we had access to spirits as well if it was somebody's birthday

so every three or four days somebody had a birthday,

so we partied on the way back and we partied hard.

TRUMPET PLAYS: "When The Saints Go Marching In"

I think that set the tone then for how I became,

what I was when I came back.

A piss-head.

SHIP'S HORN BLARES

The reception we got at Southampton Docks was out of this world.

It was phenomenal.

I'd never seen so much red, white and blue.

A bit overwhelming.

We didn't see what all the fuss was about, really.

But we enjoyed it, it was a spectacle.

And we were sent away on five weeks' leave.

And that's when the problems started, I think.

We were thrown into an alien environment

with girlfriends, mothers, and one thing or another,

who didn't realise what we'd been through.

But we never talked about it.

It wasn't the manly thing to do. We suffered in silence.

I went to my parents' and the bunting was out,

"Welcome home, Steve", and one thing and another.

I didn't want it.

I thought it was over the top.

I just wanted to go to the pub.

All I wanted was a pint.

And then another pint.

I was so angry when I came back. Very, very angry.

That combined with my alcohol intake,

it made me totally intolerable to live with.

At its height, I was probably on a bottle of spirits a day.

Just to...just to get to sleep.

The nightmares were so vivid.

One recurring one was being trapped in flames,

not being able to rescue somebody. Somebody I didn't know.

He was always too far out of reach. And then the fire consumed him.

It wasn't until later on that I started having really horrific nightmares,

and waking nightmares, flashbacks.

I was back there on the deck of The Galahad.

With all the noise with it as well.

The crackles of the small arms going off in the deck. The screaming.

Then it all died down.

You knew what was happening when the screams stopped.

The poor bastards were dying.

There was nothing we could do about it.

Nothing.

The Paras missed out on the flag-waving crowds at Southampton Docks.

They were flown back from Ascension Island

to be greeted by families at RAF Brize Norton.

The following weekend after we went home,

there was a civic reception if you like,

a do in the village where they presented us with cups and all this.

I didn't really want to be involved with it.

I'm thankful for the people of Llanfairfechan for doing it for me

but at the time, you didn't think it was the right thing to do.

I didn't think of myself as a returning hero at all.

Jimmy!

Jimmy! Jimmy!

One of the lads from our troop, there was a party for him in Liverpool when he got home.

I thought, "Ooh. Oh, I don't think I want that."

But it was out of my hands, really.

It was a strange party, to be honest with you.

I tried to do a runner with my mate

up the back garden and over the field,

but my mother spotted us.

Cos it was a street party, there was no alcohol!

Once the party was over, it was a beeline to the pub.

With the attention comes the questions.

"Did you kill anybody?"

You shouldn't ask anybody that question, really.

Steve left the army after the first Gulf War,

short of his ambition to serve 22 years

and become a commissioned officer.

He was becoming seriously depressed.

There was no real anger, there was no real emotion.

There was just a big pit that I'd fallen into

and I just wasn't getting out of.

Huge, dark hole.

I just wanted to be well, I just wanted the darkness to go.

The sadness.

Overwhelming sadness.

I'd lost me.

I was grieving for me who wasn't there, it just was not me.

For many years now, Steve has worked as a medical safety officer

on North Sea oil rigs.

Ten years ago, when he was forced to go off sick with depression,

his employer persuaded him to get help.

If you'd have asked me ten years ago to talk about the Falklands,

I would've told you where to get off.

One, because you're a civilian and two, you weren't there,

and three, you're not my mate.

I think that's...

..half the battle.

Coming to terms with any form of illness, stress,

is to be able to talk about it.

And counselling has taught me that when things are bad,

don't bottle them up.

Get the right help.

David returned to Llanfairfechan

without his best friend, Gareth Hughes.

Soon afterwards he married Ceri, Gareth's sister,

and they had two daughters.

The marriage ended and he's now met a new partner, Dorothy.

They live together in Snowdonia.

I recently got engaged and we'll be marrying in the next 18 months or so.

Looking to the future, that's what I've always done. You've got to.

You can't dwell in the past at all.

Dilwyn regrets leaving the army too early, aged just 30.

He now lives near Caernarfon and is married with two young sons.

Llun ohonyn nhw yn saethu a mae nhw'n parachutio.

Ac aeroplane yn crashio mewn iddo fo.

'My youngest, he's been army barmy for the last two years,

'and his perspective of war obviously is very different.

'It's all about "What team were you in, Daddy?" '

"What team? What gun did you have?"

But...

I don't think they know what questions to ask yet.

-They've got a Chinook.

-A Chinook.

'If they really want to join the army...'

..it'd be unfair to stop them.

How can I?

I've been there. I loved it.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

With Afghanistan...

All the casualties coming back from there.

You'd hate to see your child coming back having lost a limb.

Just because you let them, so...

It's a difficult one.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Doof! Doof! Doof! Doof!

Steve has been married and divorced three times and has five children.

He's now settled near Neath with his new partner, Noelle.

'I'm certainly sleeping a lot, lot better.

'There'll be anniversaries and memories,'

and I'm sure there'll be a few more tears.

I'll always have a lump in my throat for the Last Post,

our national anthem.

'These are things that sort of trigger the sorrow.

'I'm well on the road to recovery.

'But only time will tell.'

I think it's been well worth the trip, I wish I'd done it earlier.

A lot of emotion, a lot of emotion.

Deeply upset at Fitzroy.

I said my goodbyes, I said sorry to the lads.

Was Kenny's and Scouse's life worth it?

Their parents would have a different outlook on it.

Sacrifices have to be made in war.

And to that end, yes, it was worth it.

There'll always be an element of survivor guilt there

and the last 30 years, I don't think a day passes

when you don't think of one aspect or another.

Sometimes you think, "should you have done that?", or

"would you have done something else that would've changed the course of events?"

but in reality, there's nothing you could've done.

Getting the opportunity to visit some of the memorials

and perhaps just to clear a few lingering doubts in my mind.

Couldn't have done anything different,

wouldn't have done anything different

and having stood on Longdon and looked at the terrain,

I think, "No, I couldn't have done anything different"

and really, I wouldn't have, so I can put that to bed.

I can remember the faces of the dead.

I use that to put things into perspective.

A lot of the guys made the ultimate sacrifice,

and they've not had the opportunities that I have,

so I think I'm duty-bound to carry on with life

and make the very best of it.

Subtitling by Red Bee Media Ltd