There are very few opportunities in life when one finds oneself with the chance to be part of a great story. And Rodrigo's is one of those that deserves to be told.
It is the story of the eldest son in a family of twelve siblings. The story of a soldier called upon once again by his country to don the uniform and defend his flag. The story of a war in which he witnessed the best and the worst of human nature, but which also gave him friends who formed a brotherhood for life. It is the story of an aftermath that wounded him far more deeply than the bullets and shrapnel of the enemy he had to face. It is, too, the story of a long-awaited return to islands he first reached one April day, now far too long ago.
And so it was that, exactly forty-three years later, I had the privilege of accompanying him on his long-awaited return, together with a large group of friends who stood by him through a flood of emotions in which there was room for everything. From silences heavy with respect, tears held back through gritted teeth, generous embraces and memories of another time, to heartfelt tributes before crosses that recall those with whom he shared the cold and the mud of the trenches and who are no longer here to tell the tale; from distant gazes seeking to close old wounds, to booming laughter, countless toasts celebrating the simple fact of being alive, the strains of a chacarera recalling his beloved Santiago, and, at last, the calm needed to allow himself to be happy and set out on a new story.
For all of us who had the privilege of accompanying him on his return, those days in the Malvinas Islands were filled with an intensity that is hard to forget. Simply watching him retrace his steps was something unique, which I will try to put into words. In silence, and at a pace that only a veteran's heart can understand, we sought to help him relive his own story and that of his former comrades-in-arms from Company A ‘Tacuarí’ of the 3rd Mechanised Infantry Regiment ‘General Manuel Belgrano’ (R.I.M. 3).
We began the journey among the ruins of the former Royal Marines barracks at Moody Brook, before taking in the valley from the top of Sapper Hill. From there we made our way to Mount Tumbledown, where he had once carved his name alongside those of other former comrades into the remains of a field kitchen, now covered in rust, before reliving, at Wireless Ridge, the details of the war's last and fiercest counter-attack.
At every step, Rodrigo brought his experiences as a soldier vividly into the present, striving to help us understand the heroism and dedication of the Argentine soldier. Around him, everyone listened, at times utterly absorbed and moved by his account. After all, it is rare to have the chance to immerse oneself in our recent history through someone able to tell it firsthand.
At other times, he fell silent, as though caught up in old, forgotten memories that the journey had suddenly brought back to the present. In those moments, only God knows what stirred within his soul, and our respectful silence was, now and then, broken only by the whistle of a cold, constant wind that cut across our faces.
The visit to the Argentine Cemetery at Darwin was filled with emotion. Without a word, following Rodrigo, we entered through a small gate and each chose one of the 237 white crosses, on which we left a rosary as a tribute.
It was a moment of complete reflection. We were entirely alone, and around us the gentle hills of Darwin seemed to embrace us. Without speaking, Rodrigo stood before the great cross that presides over the cemetery, his shoulders draped in an immaculate Argentine flag — the same flag he had sworn to defend, and which he once had the privilege of seeing fly high above the Malvinas Islands during those long seventy-four days.
Back in Stanley, as we walked together through its streets, we stopped in front of the jetty — right at the corner of Ross Road and Philomel Street, the very spot where, forty-three years earlier, he had been put aboard a ship bound for the mainland, together with hundreds of other Argentine soldiers. The war was over for him, and fate had decreed that he would leave without a single wound to his body. Yet that day marked the beginning of his aftermath — a difficult time that at moments seemed to have no end, and which would leave deep scars upon his soul.
Despite all this, the boundless love of his brother Miguel encouraged him to undertake this journey to the islands, knowing it would help him bury the ghosts of the past and leave him standing at the threshold of a new beginning.
Today Rodrigo is back home, with the feeling of having fulfilled his purpose, and each of us will treasure forever the memory of having witnessed his journey. With enormous generosity, he said to us:
Just as in ’82, the Malvinas Islands left me with not only an open wound, but also many experiences that have since become part of who I am, and comrades as solid as iron. In 2025, on my return to the Malvinas Islands, I found my true purpose in life: simply to be happy. Every one of you, today and always, will be part of my life. My brothers, thank you eternally.— Rodrigo
There is nothing I can possibly add. All I can say is: thank you, Rodrigo — mission accomplished!
