What did it feel like to be a Warkid?
02 April 1982 Argentine military invaded my beautiful, peaceful Island home. The 70 Royal Marines based in Stanley and the local defence force didn't let them arrive without a huge fight, but they were outnumbered and after a few hours of fierce fighting were ordered by our Governor to stop.
Confused. The night before the invasion there was an announcement on local radio telling the 1800 island residents of the imminent invasion. Big words. Confusing terms. The somber attitude of my parents. Why is this happening?
Worried what does it actually mean? Military forces? I'd never seen war films or any images of military gear and weapons. I wanted to cry and run away and hide from it all in the hope that it would stop.
Sidelined by my busy parents. They had work to do in their jobs to prepare for this "invasion". There were hushed conversations. Phone calls and doorstep exchanges. This was obviously something big. Too big to take time out to explain to their young daughter.
Waking on that terrible morning to the totally unfamiliar sounds of guns, machine guns, explosions...
Mind racing. Trying to put it all into context. What are these noises. Where are they happening? Why are they happening. Are they aimed at me? I wanted to cry and run away and hide from it all in the hope that it would stop.
Afraid. So very afraid. I looked out of our windows and saw anger. Armed soldiers shooting and fighting. Huge tracked vehicles with their bellies full of yet more armed men. Sky filled with helicopters and aircraft. The harbour and Port William filled with unknown, huge, frantic, loud, smokey vessels.
What has happened to my home? How soon will they come for me?
I wanted to cry and run away and hide from it all in the hope that it would stop.
Unable to process what I saw. I had no context to understand any of it.
Worried about our FIDF and Royal Marines. All of this noise and anger. I assumed some had been killed or injured. I so desperately didn't want that to happen.
Anxious. The radio kept us up to date with what was happening. Where the Argentines had got to. Our Governor was broadcasting from under his desk at Government House.
Numb. After the ceasefire I just sat at the window. Staring in unbelief. Watching as my world was taken over by anger. I wanted to cry and run away and hide from it all in the hope that it would stop.
Alone. So very alone. We all watched Governor Rex Hunt and our brave, brave Royal Marines being taken away. They had been the strong ones. Now we were alone.
I wanted to cry and run away and hide from it all in the hope that it would stop. But I couldn't. There were no tears and nowhere safe to go to.
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