'And there is one thing I want to make absolutely clear. If you propose to send several thousand of my troops and the crews of Royal Navy ships to what I regard as certain death, you'd better make up your minds which of you will stand up before the British people and accept responsibility, as Members of Parliament who were acting against military advice.'
No one in the Cabinet room was anxious to step into that role. And the Prime Minister himself looked positively ashen.
'How good a story can we draft to make it seem we are not too worried?' asked the PM. 'That there have been many months of negotiations with a view to Argentina taking over the islands…you know, makes geographic sense and all that. Could we make it seem the Argentinians just got a bit overexcited and jumped the gun…but we were always in agreement with them really?'
Admiral Jeffries looked up sharply. 'With a warship and an air defense system blasted to hell, and one hundred fifty British servicemen lying dead on that godforsaken island…I don't think so.'
'Well, gentlemen,' said the PM, 'with the military situation as it is, we appear to have no options, except to negotiate, and perhaps ring some kind of apology and maybe even reparations out of the Argentinians, just to save face for us…'
'First of all, I do not think you will even have that option by the time you've read the morning papers,' said Peter Caulfield. 'The tabloids will be baying for blood. And this ridiculous nation, which is essentially a football crowd, is going to be baying for revenge. By the time it all gets into the House of Commons tomorrow you'll have demands for war, just like last time, from every possible corner of the British Isles.'
And Roger Eltringham, a renowned mimic, said solemnly, 'And here is an e-mail from ‘Irate' of Thames Ditton.'
At which point he put on his most exaggerated working-class English accent and said, 'I've just about 'ad enough of this — bloody politicians sitting on their arses fiddling their expenses, while the rest of the world tramples all over us. Where's the Dunkirk spirit, that's what I wanna know? Let's get down there and sort 'em out.'
'Jesus Christ,' said the Prime Minister of Great Britain.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, LONDON
The
Here we go again…150 servicemen dead
ARGENTINA SLAMS BRITISH GARRISON TO CONQUER THE FALKLAND ISLANDS
Royal Navy on 24-Hour Alert to Head South
The
MASSACRE AT MOUNT PLEASANT
The
SURRENDER! THE FALKLANDS FALL TO ARGENTINA AGAIN
The
ARGENTINA RECAPTURES FALKLANDS
British Garrison Surrenders
HMS
150 dead in fierce fighting
By 7:30 a.m. there were 172 journalists, photographers, and TV cameramen camped outside the main door of the Ministry of Defense in Whitehall. Forty-two political correspondents were practically laying siege to the gates of Downing Street.
The Prime Minister had already announced he would broadcast to the nation at 9:00 a.m. The Minister of Defense would speak at a press conference in the briefing room in Whitehall at 10:00. And there was something close to a riot meeting taking place outside the Argentinian embassy around the corner from Harrods in Knightsbridge, where traffic was now at a complete standstill.
Pictures were scarce, and likely to remain so, since no foreign aircraft were currently permitted to land at Mount Pleasant Airfield. The Argentine military had made it clear that any flight, for whatever purpose, attempting a landing would meet precisely the same fate as HMS
The only communique the Foreign Office had received from Buenos Aires was a polite memorandum suggesting that the British military dead be buried with the full honors of war in a hillside cemetery at Goose Green, alongside the fallen Argentinian warriors of both 1982 and 2011.
The President hoped that in less troubled times there could be a British ceremony of remembrance there, in which the Argentinian military would very much like to participate. The President further wanted to assure the Westminster government that everything possible was being done for the British wounded, and that if necessary they would be flown to the highly regarded British Hospital in Buenos Aires. A list of their names, ranks, and numbers was enclosed, as was the list of the dead.
In victory, grace and humility. And, boy, was this ever a victory.
The British government did not have the slightest idea what to do. Although everyone was keenly aware they had to do something. An emergency debate was called in the House of Commons that afternoon, starting at noon, and the Prime Minister's entire front bench of ministers was, to a man, dreading it.
The Prime Minister himself quite frankly loathed the House of Commons, and attended it as rarely as possible, much preferring to run the country from his private office in Downing Street.
He did, however, rejoice in one possible outcome of the debate: if Parliament voted to send a battle fleet to the South Atlantic, and he personally voted against it, nothing would be his fault, no matter what the outcome. Nonetheless, the thunderous possibility of being regarded as the most cowardly Prime Minister in the entire history of the nation was not terribly appealing.
Throughout his entire tenure in Number 10 Downing Street, this Prime Minister had one dominant modus operandi. He loved the flowery speech, particularly the ones with the big, bold new ideas, what he called the 'great initiatives.'
His game plan was to stand up there, wearing his most concerned look, and promise damn near anything: extra cash, extra committees, better police, more for the poor, better armed forces, a prosperous Africa — the kind of stuff that takes a long time to come to fruition.
Right now he was at that point in his premiership when only the very stupid, or very needy, believed a word he said. And today's problem required him to step right up to the plate, make a decision, and have it carried out, on the double. None of the above three points of action represented his strong suits.
By twelve noon the chamber in the House of Commons was packed. Almost every one of the 635 Members of Parliament were in their seats. To the Speaker's right were the government benches, Her Majesty's loyal opposition to the left. The government whips had informed the Speaker's office the PM would open the proceedings personally, and at three minutes after noon the Speaker called the House to order with the words 'Silence for the Prime Minister.'
In the grand tradition of the Mother of Parliaments, he rose from the front bench, where he was flanked by his Defense Minister and his Foreign Secretary. And standing in front of the ancient dispatch box on the huge table, he outlined the events of the last twenty-four hours to the best of his knowledge.
