And bombs fall on the Falklands as negotiators seek a way out
Steadily, malignantly, the ugly stain of war spread over the leaden South Atlantic last week. Sophisticated missiles streaked across the waves, while less visible but no less deadly computer-assisted torpedoes coursed through the icy waters. Before the week was over, each side had lost a proud warship to these lethal new engines of destruction. For the first time, the military forces of Britain and Argentina had mauled each other on the high seas in the bizarre battle for possession of the remote, inhospitable Falkland Islands. Then, as if stunned by the enormity of their actions, the adversaries momentarily drew apart, offering yet another opportunity for diplomatic efforts to find a solution to the crisis, which had begun with Argentina's invasion of the desolate territory on April 2.
As the fighting mounted, Secretary of State Alexander Haig, who had led the U.S. only days before from the position of concerned mediator to that of avowed British ally, threw himself into an indirect attempt to provide a peaceful settlement. Haig's plan would have produced a cease-fire between the two sides by noon E.D.T. on Friday. But the effort failed, and at week's end the best hope for peace seemed to rest with the United Nations and a vague proposal sponsored by its Secretary-General, Javier Pérez de Cuéllar. Both Britain and Argentina maintained that they were pursuing the peace plan "urgently and constructively," but the language was contradicted by the mood: pessimism.
Despite the losses they had sustained, both countries and their leaders seemed as grimly committed as ever to their antagonistic objectives: Britain's Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, to making some 10,000 Argentine troops leave the Falklands; Argentine President Leopoldo Fortunate Galtieri, to winning acknowledgment of his country's sovereignty over the islands, which Argentines call the Malvinas (after the 18th century colonists who settled there from the French village of St. Malo). The British task was by far the harder one, yet Foreign Secretary Francis Pym sounded as firm as ever when he declared that "we shall do whatever necessary to end [the Argentines'] unlawful occupation. Our resolve remains undiminished."
To emphasize that point, Britain late last week declared that any Argentine ship or aircraft found more than twelve miles from Argentina's mainland would be considered hostile and dealt with "accordingly." Buenos Aires' Ambassador to the U.N. Eduardo Roca immediately denounced the move as "illegal." There was speculation that the 66-ship British armada, its deadliest elements standing at battle stations off the Falklands, might send troops ashore early this week. Weighing against that possibility was the fact that much of the equipment necessary for the invasion of the islands was aboard ships sailing from Ascension Island, 3,800 miles away, and was not expected to arrive until midweek or so. Britain, meanwhile, continued to requisition vessels of its commercial fleet, including the 67,500-ton Queen Elizabeth 2, the world's second largest passenger liner (after the 70,202-ton Norway), to ferry additional troops and supplies to the Falklands region (see box).