Neil Wilkinson: The Courage to Heal, The Grace to Reconcile

Story Paul
13 hours ago
5 min read

A few weeks ago, I learned that a friend I admired deeply had passed away. His name was Neil Wilkinson. To his shipmates in the British Royal Navy he was simply Wilky. He famously served as an A-B gunner aboard HMS Intrepid during the 1982 war in the South Atlantic between the UK and Argentina — a 74-day conflict with intense fighting on air, land, and sea.

On May 27, 1982, Neil fired on an Argentine A-4 Skyhawk flown by 1st Lt. Mariano Velasco, widely regarded as Argentina’s most skilled fighter-bomber pilot. With only a handful of rounds left in his aging Bofors anti-aircraft gun, Neil made what many later called a “one-in-a-million” shot. The jet disappeared behind terrain in flames. There appeared to be no chance of survival.

To his shipmates, Neil was a hero. Clear as day.

But the story didn’t end there — and neither did the battle.

The Wounds No One Saw

For decades, Neil lived with the belief that he had taken another man’s life. He suffered years of severe PTSD that nearly broke him. Support at the time was limited, and like so many veterans of that era, he carried the weight mostly alone. The toll cost him his marriage and nearly his sanity.

Then, years later, everything changed.

Neil discovered — while watching a documentary — that Mariano had survived, ejecting from his Skyhawk and parachuting to safety. Most people would have felt relief and moved on.

Not Neil.

He felt compelled to reach out.

From Enemies to Human Beings

Finding Mariano wasn’t easy. It took multiple visits to the Argentine consulate in London, mountains of paperwork, and months of uncertainty. But eventually they located him — now a retired senior officer living a quiet life in rural Córdoba, Argentina.

Neil and Mariano began exchanging emails. Two former enemies. Two men who had lived the same moment from opposite sides of history. Their messages began cautiously but grew into something unexpected:

a quiet, respectful friendship.

At one point, confusion over who had actually hit the Skyhawk resurfaced. Some sailors from a sister ship believed they had brought the aircraft down. Neil never argued. He never sought validation.

But Mariano settled the matter himself.

After reviewing maps and flight paths from that day, he emailed Neil a simple, honorable truth:

“You got me, Neil.”

No bravado. No ego. Just respect.

The Journey Almost Lost

Years later, the BBC chose to document Neil’s long-awaited journey to finally meet Mariano. But before the trip, Neil suffered a severe reaction to routine vaccinations, a condition that attacked his nervous system and left him unable to walk.

A lesser man might have given up.

Not Neil.

He fought his way back, relearned how to walk, and insisted the BBC continue the story. With the support of friends like Jeff Dyrek, a U.S. Navy veteran who had helped amplify Neil’s story to the world via his aviation website, the journey moved forward.

In 2012, Neil and Mariano met in person — thirty years after the day that bound their lives together.

And with that meeting, Neil said he had finally been able to “put it to bed.”

Post-War Casualties

What Neil ultimately came to understand was that the “enemy” he had carried with him for decades was not a villain, but a human being — a professional service member, a family man, someone shaped by duty, circumstance, and history. Not so different from himself.

But not everyone found closure.

That is why Neil’s story illuminates a larger, uncomfortable truth: not all wounds are visible.

In the aftermath of the 1982 conflict:

264 British veterans died by suicide
255 British service members were killed in action

On the Argentine side:

An estimated 350–450 veterans died by suicide
649 Argentine service members were killed on the battlefield

The war ended, but the suffering continued long after the shooting stopped. And in a conflict so fueled by national pride, the uncomfortable reality is this: beyond heated rhetoric and annual commemorations, governments — and much of society — moved on. Veterans struggling with trauma were, in many cases, left to carry it alone.

It is a sad truth that has repeated itself in the armed conflicts that followed — right up to the most recent ones in other parts of the world.

The Man Behind the Service

Outside the Navy, Neil was an accomplished painter of natural life and a passionate Leeds United supporter. He lived his later years with renewed calm, surrounded by a supportive family, his beloved dogs, and the joy of heading out to sea— this time for pleasure, not duty.

We stayed in touch over the years through social media and occasional calls. Neil could talk about anything — life, world events, or whatever craziness the week had brought. I valued his honesty, his straight-talking nature, and his warmth.

He was someone I cherished.

The Film That Never Was

With Neil’s consent, I wrote a feature screenplay about his journey more than a decade ago. Tentatively titled Enemy Contact, it sought to tell the deeper story behind his reconciliation — the struggles, setbacks, and quiet acts of courage that never fully made it to the documentary. Although the project never found a producer willing to take it forward, that does not diminish its meaning.

Because Neil did something most people never do.

He left a dent in the universe.

A real one. A good one.

He made a world often driven by chaos and division a little better.

His family, his shipmates, his friends — and yes, even his former enemies — can attest to that. It’s no surprise that Neil formed lasting friendships with Argentines he met through his journey, including the person writing this piece.

Legacy

Neil also opened my eyes to a difficult reality: war is rarely what politicians, media narratives, or online debates make it out to be.

Yes, the geopolitical dispute was real. But so is the fact that the guns began blazing at moments chosen far from the people who would bear the consequences.

War is about people:

Those who decide. Those caught in the middle. Those who watch from afar.

And those who are sent to fight them.

Sometimes, the bravest act of all comes long after the battlefield has gone quiet.

Neil’s legacy is proof of that.

Farewell, My Friend

To Neil’s family — I hope you find comfort in knowing how far his story reached, and how deeply it touched those who heard it.

Rest in peace, Neil Wilkinson.

Thank you for your humanity, your courage, and your friendship.

And to anyone reading this:

If you cheer the troops when they head into battle, you’d better care about them when they come back. Combat veterans deserve healing. Mental health must never be ignored.

Reconciliation is possible. And war is never a game. Avoiding them is usually the winning move.

Not all wounds are visible.

But every service member who served with honor deserves the chance to find their way home.

As Neil did.