by Ken Wharton
An incident of note is recalled in the author’s first book (A Long Long War; Voices From The British Army in Northern Ireland, 1969-88, pp.201-202) where we mounted a long term OP in a roof opposite the one of these ‘Incident Centres’ on the Falls Road. What the intelligence services gleaned from our relatively unsophisticated operation was of enormous value, in piecing together who the players were and what they were getting up to under this cloak of political expediency.
All in all, the tour in our patch was quiet in terms of bullets, bombs and military casualties though it’s worth remembering that this was the time of the Birmingham bombs, a huge Belfast City Centre bombing campaign and the introduction of the Prevention of Terrorism Act. Looking back with a wider perspective is more interesting than the pure military street level activity. There was so much else going on: the area was being extensively redeveloped so that the mill-dominated street layout with its rabbit warrens of back alleys was to be replaced by smart new, low rise housing meaning that many of the areas were partially or fully derelict; the power struggle was nearly over between the Officials and Provisionals (the latter group won out); the political movements were starting to shape up; and the Westminster Government was showing (perhaps understandable?) timidity none of which was helped, it is interesting to note, by some of our cousins in the USA who took a couple of decades to wise up to who they were raising money for. Despite all the low key military activity there was a continuous undercurrent of threat running along in the background and we knew that the ceasefire was only going to continue as long as they wanted it to.
Life goes on for these Belfast residents as even the sight of an armed soldier can’t stop a night out. (Belfast Telegraph)
Many of us can look back at our tours in the early 70s and reflect on how much more sophisticated it got in the next two decades: from improvements to our kit and operational procedures, to developments in the enemy’s tactics; from the importance of the intelligence war to the political manoeuvrings in front of and behind the scenes. But the bit that didn’t change was the performance and resilience of our soldiers; consistently professional, cheerful and flexible. The author’s books bring this out better than any I have read and looking at the stories that came out of Iraq, many other conflicts and now Afghanistan, we should be proud to have had the privilege of serving in such an organisation that continues to deliver the highest of standards in the face of adversity.
On Wednesday, 1 January 1975, Harold Wilson, then British Prime Minister, met with leaders of the main Churches in Northern Ireland, at a secret location. As a consequence of this meeting and further contacts with the IRA’s Army Council, an announcement was made the following day by the Republicans. The IRA announced an extension of its ceasefire and this stage of the ceasefire was to last until the 17 January. Further secret talks were held between officials at the Northern Ireland Office (NIO) and representatives of the IRA to discuss the continuation of the increasingly fragile truce. A consequence of which was witnessed the following day, when a meeting between representatives of the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) with Merlyn Rees, then Secretary of State for Northern Ireland broke up over arguments about the contacts between government officials and the IRA.
Just window shopping; troops on patrol in Falls Road area. (Mark ‘C’)
Finally, on Thursday 16 January 1975 at midnight, having previously announced that it would call off its ceasefire, the IRA truce came to an end. Merlyn Rees announced that he would not be influenced by arguments supported by the bomb and the bullet.
As previously mentioned, on the morning of Thursday 16 January, the IRA announced that the ‘war’ would resume at midnight that same day, but grieving had already started in Northern Ireland and soon that would be extended to other parts of the United Kingdom. On the 10th, John Green (27) a known IRA member who had recently escaped from the Long Kesh internment camp was found dead at a house near Castleblaney, Co Monaghan in the Irish Republic. Green from Lurgan in Co Armagh was named in the Republican ‘roll of honour’ as a Captain. He had been staying in a safe house where he was cornered by a Loyalist death squad which included at least one of the UVF men responsible for the Miami Showband massacre, of which we shall read more later.
There were of course the usual accusations from Provisional Sinn Fein and other IRA apologists, of collusion between the Army and Loyalists and of course the plausible but unlikely theory that an SAS team had penetrated the border and carried out the killing. When Merlyn Rees, the Northern Ireland Secretary of State, was pressed for his reactions to the announcement that the ceasefire was over, he merely pointed out that he was not prepared to continue discussions with men who believed in political change through the bomb and the bullet. Danny Morrison’s future mantra of the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy was still some time in the future. Meanwhile across the Irish Sea on the British mainland, the IRA’s England team (sometimes known as the ‘England department’) watched and waited, eager to find more targets. They had the atrocities of Birmingham, M62, Woolwich and Guildford behind them and they were clearly prepared to carry out with alacrity, the IRA Army Council’s bidding. Like all terrorist cells, they could be patient and were aware that others had taken the fall for at least one of their atrocities – the M62 Coach bomb for example – and confident in the knowledge that there were further ‘fall guys’ who would take the blame for at least two others.
That time was not long in coming and on the first Sunday – the 19th – after the ending of the ceasefire, the England team struck twice in London within a three-hour period. A gun team opened fire at the entrance to the Portman Hotel in London’s West End at 08:00, approaching in a car and then driving off at high speed. At least one machine-gun was used and five people were injured in the indiscriminate spraying. At 11:00, the Carlton Tower Hotel in Knightsbridge was attacked in similar fashion and more hotel guests were wounded. The attack, which was thought initially, to have been the responsibility of Arab terrorists, was later attributed to the Provisional IRA.
On that same day, an innocent child became the first IRA victim of the resumption of hostilities in Forkhill, Co Armagh. An IRA unit had abandoned a van packed with explosives outside the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) police station in Forkhill on the morning of the 19th. Army bomb disposal experts had coolly towed the vehicle to a nearby field and then detonated it, harmlessly. However, an unnoticed device had failed to explode and as a couple of young boys from a neighbouring farm drove cattle nearby, it detonated, killing little Patrick Toner (7) instantly. Some 12 months earlier, an IRA rocket had detonated in the bedrooms of the Toner farm but no-one had been hurt; the Angel of Death was patient, however and the young boy became another innocent victim of the men of evil.
VIOLENCE ON THE STREETS
Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) R M McGhie, OBE
During our tour we deployed the entire company to Unity corner in Belfast virtually every other Saturday with another company in reserve in the side streets. This was a well-known flashpoint where the Shankill marchers, often the masked ranks of the paramilitary Ulster Defence Association (UDA) marched past the nationalist community living in the flats who were themselves reinforced by the hard-line nationalists from the nearby Ardoyne and New Lodge areas. We deployed behind barbed wire to separate the factions and our arrest squads, snatch squads we called them, were ready to spring forward to seize identified rioters preferably before the stoning became too heavy and the petrol bombs began their flaming trajectory towards us. All the side streets had been blocked off with physical barriers to stop us being outflanked and to contain the violence where we were in the best position to control it. The pattern was the same; shouting, spittle, stones, petrol bombs and then the sniper, sometimes all five activities at once. Often riots had a lull at 6 o’clock when the protagonists wanted to go home and see their efforts on the television news. Some riots lasted well into the night until the rioters wanted to go home to bed. We had no choice but to stay there until it was over.
Riots were never a pleasant experience for soldiers but good leadership and discipline, excellent training and good protective equipment gave them confidence as well as protection from the worst effects of the violence. Petrol bombs always looked highly dangerous on the 6 o’clock news but a few simple training drills such as stepping back and keeping riot shields flush to the ground reduced their real effect except in some tragic cases where security force personnel were injured.
Bessbrook Mill base. (Mark ‘C’)
SOUTH ARMAGH: INTRODUCTION
Corporal Martin Wells, 1st Bn, Royal Green Jackets
1RGJ were to deploy to South Armagh and as part of that deployment, the Reconnaissance Platoon were to depart two weeks early in order to liaise with the outgoing unit, The Duke of Edinburgh’s Regiment, (DERR) and familiarise themselves with the Battalion area. We duly left our barracks in Dover, Kent, having spent the previous two months training in our main role of Close Observation. After arriving at Bessbrook Mill, just outside of Newry, we split into various groups and departed to the different Company locations, scattered around South Armagh. I was assigned to go down to Crossmaglen, but before that, I spent several days in Bessbrook as part of the Recce Platoon Commanders group, along with L/Cpl Dave Brown, who was his Radio Operator.
During those few days at Bessbrook we got to know the various agencies who were attached to the Bessbrook battalion and, where possible, tried to get out on the ground, on any current operations that the DERRs might be conducting. Given why we had arrived early, this last might seem all too obvious. But in practice, it was quite difficult. Units hosting advance parties of other units sometimes seem unable to help with their requirement for a whole variety of reasons. In South Armagh for instance, the availability of helicopters, or even seats on helicopters, was crucial when planning operations. Everybody and everything moved by helicopter. Having even four or five unscheduled passengers turn up, who were not vital to an operation, could cause a major headache in the overall planning of helicopter movements. As luck would have it, two or three days after our arrival, Captain ‘J’ was allocated three places at very short notice, on a resupply helicopter going out to an ongoing operation. Him, Dave Brown and I, grabbed our kit and weapons, and rushed down to the LZ within about ten minutes.
As we climbed into the helicopter, I was unsure exactly where we were going, but we ended up at a small, square complex of unoccupied farm buildings, next to a small lane that ran across the Border into Republic of Ireland. This crossing point was known as Hotel 22. The farm buildings and the small orchard attached to them, were secured by a platoon of the DERR, and were about to be searched by members of 9 Independent Para Squadron of the Royal Engineers.
Several days earlier, a patrol from the DERRs had visited the buildings as part of a routine patrol and discovered a large tanker trailer full of diesel fuel parked in the courtyard. Given the amount of fuel, and the fact that diesel is one of the main components used in the manufacture of homemade bombs, it was thought to be suspicious enough to monitor, and the decision was made to insert a covert patrol in the buildings. Two nights later, a car arrived at the farm buildings from the direction of Republic of Ireland, with two occupants. The car parked just a few yards into the South, and while one man remained in the vehicle, a second got out, walked a few yards over the border, entered into the courtyard and began checking the diesel tanker. The DERR’s patrol broke cover and captured this man, but not before he alerted his companion, who escaped in the car. An operation was then mounted to properly secure the buildings and search them more thoroughly in the daylight.
It was around 11am, that myself, Captain ‘J’ and Dave Brown, arrived on the resupply helicopter. Our arrival seemed to be unannounced, and I got the impression, a little unwanted. There were already in the region of thirty plus people, including the RE Search Team, in and around what was a very small farm yard, and another three bodies from another Regiment, was not what the Platoon Commander needed. After standing around doing not very much for about an hour, the Platoon Commander suggested, almost in exasperation, that if we wanted to do something, we might like to go up the hill that overlooked the farm buildings, from where we would get an excellent view into Republic of Ireland, and the ground around the area being searched. My impression at the time was that he was getting us out from under his feet, while he got on with the job in hand. On the face of it, I suppose, not an unreasonable thing. Except, it meant that the three of us would be leaving the safety of a secure platoon perimeter, and going up and sitting on top of what turned out to be, a very exposed bare-arsed hill.
Bessbrook Mill; once the biggest heliport in Europe. (Author’s photo)
We duly left the cordon, me leading, followed by the boss and Dave, and moved up the hill along the dry stone wall that was the border. One side of it was Ulster, the other side, Eire. On reaching the top, we found a Blackthorn bush alongside the wall with three natural breaks that allowed each of us a clear view into the south of Ireland for several miles. The ground in front of us fell away quite sharply and with the dry stone wall to take cover behind, it was clear we were in no danger from that direction. However, we were sorely exposed to our sides, and in particular, behind us. There was no cover from view, and more importantly, no cover from fire. To say this was not an ideal situation was putting it mildly. We could clearly be seen from our rear for a distance of perhaps a mile or more. We stood out like a sore thumb. To our right was little better, and to our left, back towards the farm complex some 150 yards below us, our situation was only marginally improved. To stay on that hill, for any length of time exceeding a half hour, was inviting disaster. We actually stayed there for almost three hours; three very uncomfortable hours. I expected at any moment during that time, to be engaged with fire and I repeatedly made signs to Dave, some three or four metres away, that I was well pissed off at the situation we were in.
Eventually, the boss decided that we should go back down into the farm and the safety of the cordon. For me, that decision did not come a moment too soon. Our arrival back at the farmyard went unremarked and we were pretty much left to our own devices. Martin Wells’ account of life in South Armagh continues in this chapter.
The Provisional IRA described themselves as an ’Army’ and it is true that their organisation was modelled on the traditional Army structure of command and they were organised into Companies, Battalions and Brigades but there, the similarity ended. Each Company was generally based on a specific geographic area and the most famous was Belfast’s ‘D’ Company (also known locally as the ‘dogs’) under the alleged command – if his former comrades are to be believed – of one Gerry Adams and based on the Ballymurphy Estate of West Belfast.
Armies have codes and they generally possess a modicum of honour and wear uniforms. PIRA had neither, unless their black berets and balaclavas – worn only at their ‘military’ funerals – can be counted as such. They proved their other attributes, those of cowardice and evil, over a bloody period of 30 years, preferring to shoot their ‘enemies’ in the back or in their homes in front of the victim’s terrified and traumatised families. They wore civilian clothes and their armouries were mobile – generally the open boot of a hijacked car – and their targets were the unsuspecting and the unwary. They killed their own members for transgressing their Green Book1 and were certainly guilty of torture. Their apologists, in the Republican areas and amongst both Irish-Americans and Irish-Australians possessed the ‘ability’ to turn a blind eye to their own violence, cowardly murders and feral treatment of their own. At the same time, when one of their heroes was shot dead by a member of the security forces, it was a ‘controversial’ moment or as the writers of Lost Lives frequently maintain, a death in ‘disputed circumstances.’
Memorial in Lisburn to the men and women of the UDR. (Author’s photo)
STANDING ON A SOLDIER’S HEAD
Mark ‘C’, Royal Artillery & UDR
One of the funniest things I remember about the T
roubles happened before I even joined the army, I think it was 1975 and I was at Larkfield Secondary School on the Blacks Road near Suffolk, Belfast. There was a hotel across the road which was called the Greenan Lodge and it used to get blown up pretty regularly by PIRA, which was great for us kids as we got off school, usually for the whole day or even more. There used to be a small strip of wood which ran down the side of the school and I suppose it would have given a good view of the hotel. Anyway, we boys used to go in there and smoke and mess about at lunch break etc. One day we were running about and I felt the ground give way and there was a loud scream of: ‘What the fuck? You wee bastard!’ I had landed on the head of a soldier who was dug in watching the hotel for further attacks.
How do I know this you may ask? Well a couple of years later I was in 25 RA in Paderborn, Germany, when a guy got posted in, and we got talking. He found out I was from Belfast and he proceeded to tell the story above, not knowing I was that schoolboy!
Being at school during the height of the Troubles was both scary and fun; there were always bombs going off or shootings taking place close by. On one occasion, the Army landed a helicopter in the playground and we had to evacuate; as the school was close to the Suffolk and Lenadoon areas a lot of the pupils were affected. Lenadoon used to be all Protestant until the Troubles started and by the time of the infamous Battle of Lenadoon in 1972, the numbers of pupils at our school had declined rapidly as they found themselves burnt out or their houses damaged by bomb blasts at Woodbourne RUC station. As an aside, my English teacher was none other than Geraldine Finucane, wife of Pat Finucane, the PIRA Solicitor who was shot by the UFF.
[Patrick Finucane was a Catholic Belfast solicitor, killed by a Loyalist murder gang on 12 February 1989. His killing was one of the most controversial during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, as Republicans trotted out their well-worn accusation of ‘Security Force collusion.’ Finucane came to prominence due to successfully challenging the British Government over several important human rights cases in the 1980s. He was shot fourteen times as he sat eating a meal at his Belfast home with his three children and his wife, who was also wounded during the attack.]
