ships and on the landing beaches, but it was only a cry in the night. There never had been a reply, and Douglas Jarvis understood there never would be.
He did not dare attempt a direct communication with command headquarters in Northwood, because that would certainly have been located and monitored by the Argentinians. The last thing they needed was a seriously determined search party trying to hunt them down, and picking up a radio fix.
They understood there was almost certainly a small, mildly serious Argentinian force looking for them already, but that was not a problem to eight of the most dangerous war-fighting soldiers on the planet…men who believed that odds of five to one against them in any combat was probably fair.
Lt. Colonel Mike Weston, commanding officer 22 SAS, had been studying the POW lists from the Falkland Islands for three hours. They contained the names of all eight of the men who had conducted the airfield recce at Mount Pleasant under the command of Sergeant Jack Clifton, and all eight of them were in Argentinian custody, and now traveling by sea to the mainland.
Lt. Colonel Weston had twice spoken to his opposite number at the Royal Marine headquarters south of Plymouth, and it seemed all of the SBS men who had landed at Lafonia under Lt. Jim Perry were also safe, and were also traveling by sea to the mainland with the rest of the landing force. The Argentine military had intimated they did not intend to detain them, although their weapons had been confiscated.
An Argentinian ship would land them one month from now at the great Uruguayan seaport of Montevideo on the north shore of the River Plate estuary. The Royal Navy was welcome to pick them up there, and transport them home. The assault ships
But what was currently vexing Colonel Weston was the fate of Captain Douglas Jarvis and his assault group, which was last seen blowing the summit off Fanning Head. The Colonel knew that part of the mission had been accomplished, and he understood the impossibility of further contact since both SAS command centers at sea had been removed from the line of battle. He also doubted whether there was any form of communication between the various assault forces in the final hours before the surrender on the Lafonia landing beaches.
Which all left Captain Jarvis and his team in a very uneasy form of isolation. Colonel Weston did not like it. But he understood the danger a long-range communique from Hereford via satellite might pose to the men. If the Argentinians picked it up, Captain Jarvis would be in serious trouble.
Even the most highly trained SAS group could scarcely cope alone against a force of a thousand men in vehicles and helicopters, employing infrared search radars. Colonel Weston could not accurately assess the scale of Argentine anger about the destruction of their stronghold on Fanning Head, but he guessed they would not be overjoyed.
Thus he did not dare open up a line of voice-contact communication to young Douglas, but he did enter a coded satellite communication urging Douglas and his team to keep their heads well down, and that a rescue operation would be mounted. He also instructed them to open up their comms for one hour at 1800 each evening.
Which meant that, for the moment at least, the SAS team must survive as well as it possibly could. But this was an outstanding group, and Colonel Weston personally believed if anyone could stay alive in such a hostile environment, it was probably his guys, the ones who just blew up Fanning Head.
The slight problem he had was if the Argentinians caught them, they might very well execute them and say nothing. That way Here ford would never know their fate. Although he did not believe them dead, Colonel Weston nevertheless listed Douglas Jarvis, and Troopers Syd Ferry, Trevor Fermer, Bob Goddard, Joe Pearson, Peter Wiggins, Jake Posgate, and the Welshman Dai Lewellwyn officially missing in action.
There had been several communications from SAS families in the hours after it was announced the British had surrendered to the Argentinians. And the regiment was prepared to confirm those men who were in the custody of the new owners of the Falkland Islands, which brought immense relief to all of those waiting at home for news.
'Missing in Action,' was, however, an entirely different problem, and no regiment likes to be drawn into these discussions. Thus the duty officers at Stirling Lines would say very little, except the regiment could confirm the surrender, confirm the SAS had knowledge of POWs, and were working to insure everyone returned home safely. For those for whom there was no information, dead or alive, they would confirm nothing, only stating they had no knowledge of the men losing their lives, and would try to keep everyone informed of future developments.
When Jane Jarvis of Newmarket called to inquire about her second cousin Douglas, they said, with regret, they were unable to confirm anything except to the next of kin. Then she rang Douglas's elder brother Alan, who had heard nothing. So she rang her other cousin, Diana Hunter, out in the lush grassland of Lexington, Kentucky.
Mrs. Rick Hunter was reading the latest issue of the
The mare, who in her day had won five Grade One stakes races at Belmont Park, New York, and Saratoga, had tolerated a long and arduous labor, but at six a.m. had safely given birth to a dark bay colt by the superb Irish- based sire Choisir, a charging Australian-bred champion sprinter who had once heard the thunder of the crowd at Royal Ascot and Newmarket.
Diana had dressed and cooked Rick's breakfast, taken a long walk through the paddocks inspecting the yearlings, and was now sitting in the high sunlit drawing room of the main house, with its views between the tall white Doric columns and out into the front paddocks, where several million dollars' worth of broodmares and their foals grazed contentedly.
When the telephone rang, the former Diana Jarvis was delighted to hear from her cousin back home, and the two of them chatted companionably for a few minutes before Jane came to the point.
'Diana, I don't want to worry you unnecessarily, but I think you know Douglas was sent to the Falkland Islands several weeks ago. Well, I expect you know all about the British surrender…but I just called SAS headquarters at Hereford and they refused to confirm one way or another whether Douglas was dead or alive.
'In a sense that was good, but in another sense I thought it sounded a bit gloomy. They wouldn't tell me more because I'm not next of kin. But they'd probably tell you…and I was calling with the number.'
Diana's heart missed about seven beats. She had seen on the twenty-four-hour Fox news channel that the British had surrendered, and all she could remember was that 1,500 men were dead.
'Jane, is there any suggestion the SAS men may have been killed?' she asked.
'Absolutely not. But I read they have lists of the men who have been taken POW, and from what I can gather, Douglas is not on those lists.'
'Well, where do they think he might be?' said Diana, whose voice was rising, panic beginning to well up inside her.
'They won't tell me, Di. But they might tell you. They would not even confirm he was on the stupid islands. But it's pretty obvious he was landed. There's nowhere else to be down there in that awful place. I'm just hoping he was not still in one of the warships. I expect you saw the Royal Navy lost eight ships, including the aircraft carrier.'
'Is that where most of the fifteen hundred were — the ones who died?'
'Almost all of them. But I've read a lot of reports and no one mentions there were Special Forces aboard the ships. You know, they're always the first ones off, first ones ashore. But I thought you might want to call and see if you can find out anything.'
Diana wrote down the number and sat at the desk to the right of the French doors, her heart pounding, half with fear, half with shock.
