I guess there were about a dozen other ships lying at anchor in Stanley Sound, each one wanting to get on with the cargo discharge. Ican't imagine the owners being all that fussed though as they were probably being paid on "time" spent as STUFTs. Being sort of honest, I think that the slow rate of discharge was a combination of at least 2 things:
a) What bits of any ships cargo was needed the most.
b) As there were no locally operated barges etc. much of the assorted cargoes were ferried ashore via the ubiquitous "Mexeflote", and these were normally only carried by the RFA LSLs., and they could only carry 2 "ready for use" units. Broken down into "kit" form I suppse more could be carried, but that assumes space on board is available.
Although I may criticize the "Stonnery" from time to time, when they eventually get their act together their system works a treat. But at this stage just about everything was in the hands of the Army Logistic people. They are probably very good at doing what they are trained for, but discharging large commercial ships was not part of their training. Not then anyway. If the "stuff" didn't Roll-on and Roll-off again they were jiggered. So it was all a bit leisurely with only the "now and again" HDS mail drop to liven up the days. The ships crew rapidly became bored with the (non) delights of Port Stanley, and our still embarked Forces personnel were getting a bit cranky. This led to a few "altercations" that were beyond my remit to sort out. A blessing in disguise. Another trip ashore to "report" and all of a sudden things started to happen. Very quickly our "passengers" were taken elsewhere...to their units I suppose, but it was all a bit chaotic without much in the way of info being passed along from one place to another. But their departure freed up a lot of space, and certainly made the job of the cook and his "boy" a lot easier. Not for long.
This is my 3rd attempt at trying to show / describe Port Stanley just after the cease-fire. My first 2 attempts were, on re-reading, too light hearted. I concentrated and commented more on the "oddness" of the place rather than recalling the emotion shown by the Falklanders. It just didn't seem right to make fun of their town and, by implication, their suffering.
I've just spent half an hour browsing Stanley on Google Earth, and to be honest it was very depressing. I appreciate that "things" move on, and the Kelpers probably deserve a bit more prosperity, but I found it sad that so much of the original charm has been replaced with "structures" that do nothing for the scenic value of the place. Even the old "wreck" of the sailing ship "Elizabeth" has succumbed so that only her stern section is visible. What were muddy streets are now almost avenues. I'm not really complaining about "progress" as such, it's just that it all seems to have gone a "Standard UK High Street" sort of way, without much regard to what was good about the place. Tourists (with their welcome cash) may well be a bit disappointed. In 1982 the town was a bit ramshackle. Rather akin to a cold weather version of an Australian bush town, tin roofs and hoses that appeared to have been originally built to house pigeons. All that needed to be changed. Good. The little cafe with its sign "Closed for Lunch" that also sold flffy penguins labelled "Made in Birmingham"....all gone, and with it a lot of the charm and quirkiness that made Stanley what it was.
The sea front had many derelict wooden jetties that used to be "home" to 19th century whaling ships, the hulk of one was still there in '82 (American, now taken to the USA for re-building). Thank goodness the main yard of the "Great Britain" is still there. The sheer size and weight of this thing beggars belief. The (then) only hotel in Stanley was the "Upland Goose", named after a bird that is even worse tasting than a fox (or so I'm told).
The "Freedom" memorial from WW1 is naturally still in its place, but I wonder how many visitors will remark on the similarity of the ships names then as those in the 1982 conflict.
While meandering up and down the slushy, muddy side streets I came across a rather down-at-heel corner shop that did'nt really have much on display. Curious, I went in. To be greeted with a bear-hug from the elderly owner. It turned out that he thought I had come to give back his binoculars that the Argies had stolen from him. I felt rotten about that, he seemed so elated. I was also the first "Brit" that had come to see him since the "war" ended". So I stayed for a cup of tea and listened to his tales. Every emotion you can think of came pouring out of this old chap. I must have been there for more than 2 hours, but I enjoyed it. But he wouldn't let me leave without giving me a "present". My wife is a stamp collector, and I'd noticed a shoe box full of stamped addressed envelopes on his counter. They were all first issues (Falklands) going back to Winston Churchill in WW2....."How much for these?"...."Face value to you, son"....No good arguing, but I did eventually find a pair of binoculars and took them to him.
Then I stumbled across the Welsh Guards.