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The Falklands crisis was perceived by some, before the killing started, as an amusing anachronism. At the State Department, in the early hours of the crisis, most of the staff shared the amusement of the press and public over what was perceived as a Gilbert and Sullivan battle over a sheep pasture between a choleric old John Bull and a comic dictator in a gaudy uniform. Among the White House staff, there was little sense of urgency.
Though I was virtually alone in this, I viewed the situation from the very beginning with the utmost seriousness and urged the bureaucrats of the department to do the same. The Falklands was not an isolated problem. Among other things, it involved the credibility of the already strained Western alliance, the survival or failure of a British government that was a staunch friend of the U.S., the future of American policy and relations in the Western Hemisphere as well as in Europe, the possibility of yet another dangerous strategic incursion by the Soviet Union into South America and, most important of all, an unambiguous test of America's belief in the rule of law.
On March 31, three days after his first call, Henderson returned to the State Department. "They are invading," he said in astonished tones, and placed before me information that indeed suggested that an Argentine military operation against the islands was imminent. By late afternoon, our own intelligence community confirmed that it was probable that an Argentine task force would strike the Falklands in days or hours.
I urged President Reagan to phone General Leopoldo Galtieri, head of the ruling military junta in Buenos Aires, and issue a strong personal warning. Galtieri's aide stated that his chief was "unavailable" to speak to the President of the U.S. After a two-hour delay, however, Galtieri consented to come on the line. "I must have your assurance that there will be no landing tomorrow," Reagan said during a conversation that lasted for no less than 50 minutes. Galtieri responded with a portentous silence. At that very moment, the invasion was being launched.
In the NSC, I argued that the U.S. must do whatever it could to bring the crisis to a negotiated solution, but if this was not possible, it must support Britain and the rule of law. To our ambassador in Buenos Aires, Galtieri had suggested that Washington should acquiesce in the invasion as a quid pro quo for Argentine support for the U.S. in the hemisphere. Galtieri never really understood that the U.S., as a nation of laws, could not have one rule on the use of force for its friends and another for the Soviet Union and its proxies. In this view, I enjoyed the enthusiastic, if uncharacteristic, support of Caspar Weinberger.
Ambassador Kirkpatrick, a specialist in Latin America, vehemently opposed an approach that condemned Argentina and supported Britain. Such a policy, she told the President, would buy the U.S. a hundred years of animosity in Latin America. In general, I held the same views as Mrs. Kirkpatrick on broad issues and most specific ones. In the Falklands crisis, however, our positions were irreconcilable—not because of any personal issue or special taste in