At every check point we came to we were waved on without the slightest hesitation, and within ten minutes of entering the town we were clear again and moving along the main road to Londonderry.
Binnie was like some kid out for the day, excitement and laughter bubbling out of him. 'I'd say they were looking for somebody back there, wouldn't you, Major?'
'So it would seem.'
'That's the bloody British Army for you.' He snapped his fingers and took us down the centre of the road, overtaking everything in sight.
I said mildly, 'Not so much of the bloody, Binnie. I used to be a part of it, remember.'
He glanced at me, surprise on his face as if he had genuinely forgotten, and then he laughed out loud. 'But not now, Major. Now, you're one of us. Christ, but you'll be taking the oath next. It's all that's needed.'
He started to sing the Soldier's Song at the top of his voice, hardly the most appropriate of choices considering he was wearing a British uniform, and concentrated on his driving. I lit a cigarette and sat back, the Sterling across my knees.
I wondered what kind of face he'd show me at that final, fatal moment when, as they used to say in the old melodramas, all was revealed? He would very probably make me kill him, if only to save my own skin, something I very definitely did not want to do.
Binnie and I had come a long way since that first night in Cohan's Select Bar in Belfast and I'd learned one very important thing. The IRA didn't just consist of bomb-happy Provos and Frank Barry and company. There were genuine idealists there also in the Pearse and Connolly tradition. Always would be. People like the Small Man, God rest him, and Binnie Gallagher.
Whether one agreed with them or not, they were honest men who believed passionately that they were engaged in a struggle for which the stake was nothing less than the freedom of their country.
They would lay down their lives if necessary, they would kill soldiers, but not children - never that. Whatever happened, they wanted to be able to face it with clean hands and a little honour. Their tragedy was that in this kind of war that just was not possible.
Frank Barry, of course, was a different proposition altogether, which brought me right back to the Brigadier and Norah Murphy and the present situation at Spanish Head.
The Brigadier had told me quite clearly that I was to avoid contact with the military on any official level at all costs, and it seemed to me that no purpose was to be gained by disregarding his instructions in the present circumstances. If the Guards Parachute Company itself was dropped in on Spanish Head, the Brigadier and Norah would be the first to go.
Not that I believed for one moment that Barry would keep his promise and release the girl, and the Brigadier, of course, had never been a party to the agreement in the first place.
No, whichever way you looked at it, the only thing to do was to go in and play it by ear in the hope of extracting every possible advantage from the fact that I had something he wanted very badly indeed.
We were somewhere past Londonderry on the coast road before we ran into any kind of trouble and when it came, it was from the most unexpected quarter.
We went round a bend and Binnie had to brake hard for the road in front of us was jammed with vehicles. In the distance I could see the roofs of houses amongst the trees and smoke drifted across them in a black pall.
There were two or three isolated shots followed by the rattle of a sub-machine-gun as Binnie pulled out to by-pass the line of traffic. I heard confused shouting faintly in the distance.
'This doesn't look good,' I said. 'Is there a way round?'
'No, there's a central square to the place and everything goes through it.'
I told him to keep on going and we reached the out-skirts of the village to find a couple of MP Land-Rovers blocking one half of the road. As Binnie braked to a halt, a corporal came forward and saluted.
I said, 'What's going on in there?'
'Riot situation, sir. Local police arrested a youth they found painting slogans on the walls of the church hall. After half an hour, a mob collected outside the police barracks demanding he should be freed. When the petrol bombs started coming in they sent for us.'
'Who's handling it?'
'Half a company of Highlanders, sir, but there are more on the way.'
I turned to Binnie. 'All right, drive on.'
As we started to move, the corporal ran alongside. 'You want to watch it on the way in, sir. That crowd is in a bloody ugly mood.'
Binnie accelerated and we moved down the centre of the street. People stood outside the small terrace houses, huddled together in groups. As we passed, heads turned and the insults started to come thick and fast. A stone bounced from the canopy and then another.
But worse was to come, for when we turned the corner the streets were jammed with an angry mob and beyond them in the square the Highlanders were drawn up in a phalanx, transparent riot shields held out before them. A petrol bomb curved through the air and exploded, carpeting the area in front of the troops with orange flame. They moved back in good order and the crowd surged forward.
Binnie said, 'This doesn't look too good. What do we do?'
'Drive like hell and don't stop for anything. If that lot get their hands on us it's a length of rope and the nearest lamp-post.'
At that moment someone at the rear of the crowd turned and saw us and raised the alarm. The howl that went up was enough to chill the blood. I ducked instinctively as a shower of stones came towards us, though most of them rattled harmlessly enough from the body-work of the Land-Rover.
A petrol bomb soared through the air, Binnie swerved violently and it exploded to one side. And then we were into the crowd. He slowed instinctively, couldn't help it as they crowded in, men, women, even children, howling like wolves, hands tearing at the Land-Rover as we passed. Some madman jumped into our direct path, arms wide, bounced from the bonnet into the crowd like a rubber ball. Binnie slammed his foot on the brake.
It was like that last great wave one reads about sweeping in. I did the only possible thing, leaned out of the window and fired a burst from the Sterling above their heads. The effect was all that I could have hoped for and everyone scattered.
I shook Binnie by the shoulder. 'Now let's get moving.'
We shot forward, swerving to avoid someone lying on the ground, narrowly missed a lamp-post and drove through the debris of the square towards the line of Highlanders. They opened their ranks to receive us and Binnie pulled in beside an ambulance and an armoured troop carrier.
A young lieutenant in camouflaged uniform, flak jacket and Glengarry bonnet came forward and saluted formally. 'A near thing, sir. For a while there I thought we might have to come and get you. My name's Ford.'
'Major Parker, Second Paras.' I held out my hand. 'Sorry to descend on you like this, but I didn't have much option. I've been ordered to report to police headquarters in Coleraine as soon as possible to have a look at someone they've picked up in connection with the Brigadier Ferguson kidnapping. If it's the man they think it is I can identify him positively. Can we get through?'
'I should think so, sir,' Ford said. 'Only a church and a few almshouses on that side. Not many people around.'
There was a sudden cry, and as we turned, at least half a dozen petrol bombs burst in front and behind his men. There seemed to be flames everywhere, smoke billowing across the square. For a moment, there was considerable confusion and the Highlanders scattered.
One young soldier ran towards us screaming, his legs ablaze, still clutching his transparent shield in one hand, a riot stick in the other. Binnie got to him before I did, sticking out a foot deftly to trip him up. We beat at the flames with our hands, then someone appeared with a fire extinguisher from one of the Land-Rovers and sprayed his legs.
The young soldier lay there crying helplessly, his face screwed up in agony, and a couple of medics ran across from the ambulance with a stretcher. One of them got a morphine ampoule out of his first-aid kit and jabbed it in the boy's
arm.
Binnie stayed on one knee watching, his face very white, the eyes full of pain. I pulled him up. 'Are you all right?'
'It was the stink of his flesh burning,' he said as they carried the lad away. 'It reminded me of Norah.'
'Now you see how the other half live,' I said.
The Highlanders were on the offensive now, firing rubber bullets into the crowd, following this up with a wild baton charge to drive them back. It was a scene from hell, pools of fire all over the square from the petrol bombs, black greasy smoke billowing everywhere, shouts and screams from the crowd where hand-to-hand fighting was taking place.
Binnie was looking anything but happy, which was understandable enough so I gave him a push towards the Land-Rover. 'Time to go.'
He got behind the wheel and started the engine. As I climbed in beside him, Lieutenant Ford approached. 'Ready for off, sir?'
'That's right.'
'I think we've got things under control here now and another company's due to assist. I'll just put you on your way.'
He stood on the running-board, hanging on to the door as Binnie drove away. The square was, in fact, L-shaped and we moved round a corner and looked across to a church, the entrance to a narrow street beside it.
'That's where you want to be, sir,' Ford said and pointed.
There was a single shot, a high-powered rifle from the sound of it, he gave a grunt and went sideways. I dropped out, grabbed him by the flak jacket and dragged him round the corner as another bullet chipped a cobble-stone a yard to one side. As Binnie reversed to join us, a third round punched a hole in the left-hand side of the windscreen.
The bullet had gone straight through Ford's right thigh and he lay there on the cobbles clutching it with both hands, blood spurting between his fingers. The medics appeared on the run. There was a rumble of thunder above us and it started to rain, a sudden drenching downpour that put out the petrol fires almost instantly.
One of the medics slapped a couple of field dressings on either side of Ford's thigh and started to bandage it tightly. Binnie had got out of the Land-Rover and crouched against the wall beside me.
'Now what?' he whispered.
I heard Ford say, 'Johnson, take a look and see if you can spot him.'
Johnson, a stocky young sergeant, crawled to the corner and peered round cautiously. Nothing happened. Even the crowd on the other side of the square had gone quiet. Johnson eased forward, there was a single shot and he was lifted bodily backwards.
He cannoned against me and rolled over, gasping, but when a couple of his men lifted him into a sitting position we saw that the bullet had mushroomed against his flak jacket and he was simply winded by the blow.
Another round chipped the corner and a second ricocheted from the cobbles on the other side of the Land-Rover. Someone tried a steel helmet on the end of a stick round the corner and the moment it appeared, a bullet drilled a neat hole through it.
The medics were trying to persuade Ford to get on a stretcher so they could take him to the ambulance and he was telling them exactly what to do about it in crisp Anglo-Saxon.
'By God, but he's doing a great job whoever he is,' Binnie whispered. 'He's got every bastard here neatly pinned down.'
'Including us,' I said, 'Or had you forgotten that? We've got just over an hour to get to Spanish Head, Binnie, which means that if we're not out of here within the next ten minutes, Norah Murphy's had it.'
He stared at me aghast. I picked up the helmet with the hole through and handed it to him. 'When I give the word, toss that out into the square.'
I pulled off my beret, then crawled to the corner on my belly and peered round at ground level. The most likely spot seemed to be the church tower opposite. I was proved right a moment later, for when Binnie threw the helmet there was some sort of movement up there in the belfry and the helmet jumped twenty feet as another round pumped into it. A second shot chipped the corner just above my head and I withdrew hurriedly.
'What's the situation, sir?' Ford called.
'He's in the belfry,' I said, 'and he's good. He'll kill any man stone dead who tries to make it to that church door.'
Ford nodded wearily. 'We'll have to wait till B company gets here. We'll smoke him out soon enough then.'
As I stood up, Binnie whispered urgently. 'We can't stand around here doing nothing while Norah's life's ticking away by the minute.'
'Exactly,' I said. 'And the only way out of here is by knocking out the lad up there in the tower.'
'But he's one of our own.'
'It's either him or Norah Murphy. Make up your mind.'
His face was very pale now, sweat on his brow. He glanced about him wildly as if looking for some other way out, then nodded. 'All right, damn you, what do we have to do?'
'It's simple,' I said. 'I want you to draw his fire by driving the Land-Rover out into the square. I'll handle the rest.'
He turned from me at once, went to the Land-Rover and got behind the wheel. As he started the engine, I took the rifle from a young private who was kneeling beside me.
I said to Ford, 'Perhaps we won't have to wait for B company after all, Lieutenant.' Then I flattened myself against the corner and gave Binnie the nod.
He roared out into the square and the sniper in the tower went to work instantly. I allowed him two shots, then ran out into the open, raised the rifle to my shoulder and fired six or seven times up into the belfry very rapidly.
It was enough. The bells started to ring, a hideous clamour as bullets ricocheted from them, a rifle jumped into the air, a man in a trenchcoat seemed to poise there for a moment, then dived head first to the cobbles.
I handed the rifle back to its owner and started across the square. Binnie had braked to a halt in the centre. As I reached him, the Highlanders moved past me towards the body. The smoke seemed suddenly to grow thicker, from the rain, I suppose, choking the square so that visibility was reduced to a few yards.
I climbed in beside Binnie. 'I think this would be as good a time as any to get out of here.'
The skin was drawn tightly over his cheek-bones so that his face was skull-like and it was as if Death himself stared out at me when he turned.
'I didn't look,' he said. 'I couldn't. Is he dead?'
'Drive on, Binnie,' I told him gently. There's a good lad.'
'Oh my God,' he said, and as he drove away his eyes were wet and I do not think it was from the smoke alone.
13
May You Die in Ireland
We turned in through the gate leading to the private road to Spanish Head at about ten minutes to six. The final part of the run had proved completely uneventful, for although we had run across two more road blocks near Coleraine, we had been waved through without the slightest hesitation.
It had stopped raining for the moment although there was a dampness to the air that seemed to indicate there was more to come and heavy grey clouds out to sea crowded in towards a horizon that was touched with a weird orange glow.
The house seemed dark and sombre, waiting for us at the edge of the cliff in the pale evening light, and there was no sign of life at all as we rolled into the courtyard and braked to a halt.
So here we were again at the final dangerous edge of things. I lit a cigarette and turned to Binnie. 'We made it.'
'So it would appear, Major.' He rested his forehead on the steering-wheel as if suddenly very weary.
There was a slight eerie creaking as the garage door eased open. I said softly, 'Don't let's do anything drastic. It's Vaughan and Binnie Gallagher.'
I turned slowly and found Dooley and three of his chums standing line abreast, each man covering us with a sub-machine-gun.
When we went into the drawing-room on the first floor, Frank Barry was standing with his back to the fire, a glass of brandy in one hand. He looked us over with obvious amusement. 'My, my, but this is one for the book. I've never seen you so well dressed, Binnie. You should wear it all the time.'
Binnie said quiet
ly, 'Where's Norah?'
'You can see her when I'm good and ready. Now, what did Cork have to say?'
'You heard him,' I said. 'First Norah, then we talk.'
I think that for a moment there he was going to argue about it, but instead he shrugged and nodded to Dooley, who went into the next room. He returned leading Norah by the arm. She looked pale and ill and her cheek was covered by a padded dressing held in place by surgical tape. She seemed stunned at the sight of Binnie and tried to take a step towards us. Frank Barry pulled her back and shoved her down into a chair.
'All right,' he said. 'What about Cork?'
'He died earlier this afternoon,' I said simply.
Barry stared at me, thunderstruck. 'You're lying. I would have heard. It would have been on the news. He's too important.'
'He was shot during a struggle with a British soldier near Plumbridge,' I said. 'Binnie and I took him to a convent hospital just across the Border into the Republic.'
'You know the place,' Binnie said. 'Gleragh.'
Barry glanced at him briefly, then turned back to me. 'Go on.'
'They operated, he died, it's as simple as that, but before he went, he told me what you wanted to know.'
I turned to Norah Murphy, who sat gazing fixedly at me, the eyes dark and tragic in that ravaged face.
'He said he didn't want you on his conscience, too, Norah, when he died.'
She buried her face in her hands and Barry said impatiently, 'Come on, old lad, out with it. Where is the stuff?'
'Not so fast,' I said. 'You gave us a promise. You said you'd free us all if we got you the information you wanted. What guarantee do we have that you intend to keep your word?'
He stood there staring at me, a slight fixed frown on his face. 'Guarantee?' he said.
He laughed suddenly and it was not a pleasant sound. 'I'll tell you what I will guarantee.' He grabbed Norah Murphy by the hair and yanked her head back. 'That I'll give her a repeat performance on the other cheek if you don't come clean.'
the Savage Day (1972) Page 15
