by Rob Maylor
When he emerged from under the human sandbags, I couldn’t help but crack up with laughter. He’d singed both eyebrows, fringe and moustache. But because he had jet-black hair the singed parts were a light tan colour: he looked like he’d just stepped out of the hairdresser’s with highlights done to his face. A bloke shouldn’t laugh, I know. The poor bugger was probably in pain but the snow soon cooled him off and he was pretty bloody ugly to start with anyway.
Between exercises we conducted several range shoots and this is where I first experienced the radical effects on ballistics of extremely cold weather. The cold didn’t allow the propellant of a round to burn completely or as rapidly as it should, so the correct muzzle velocity was never achieved. This meant the effective range was shortened, as the projectile was travelling slower. To compensate for this we had to aim slightly higher than normal. I also encountered other problems such as fitting a gloved finger into the small SA80 trigger guard. One of the lads thought he’d trial his SA80 on an exercise with the trigger guard removed, which worked well until he creamed in and had a negligent discharge (ND). Lucky for him we were using blanks. We also had to become familiar with alternative firing positions, such as crossing your ski poles at the handles to use them as a makeshift bipod. The lads who carried the light support weapons (LSW) fixed spare circular ski pole ‘baskets’ to the bottom of the bipods to stop them from sinking into the snow.
Back at Ose the wild nights in the bar resumed. We organised several ‘silly rig’ nights–fancy dress, usually with an outlandish theme–that generally got out of hand. The barmen came from volunteers within the company and generally didn’t get too much hassle from the blokes, until Billy the ‘pongo’ (marine slang for army personnel) was the barman. Billy was a champion of a bloke despite his parent unit; he had passed the Royal Marines’ all-arms commando course and was seconded to us for a couple of years, but this night he called last orders at the bar way too early. He was instantly verbally abused and this was followed by a volley of bottles.
The boys thought this was a great laugh and a good way to clear the tables of empty bottles, so poor old Billy had to duck and dive out of the way of wave after wave of these tumbling projectiles. One did actually catch him on an elbow, which cut it quite deeply. ‘You fuckin’ dickheads!’ Billy shouted, and returned fire. Now I was ducking for cover. The fire fight died a natural death, probably because all the ammo was broken, and a couple of lads made sure Billy was okay. We then continued to act like animals–after all it was a Viking run! Nevertheless, we always managed to clean the place up pretty well after a good night–maybe we were just removing the evidence.
The weather in northern Norway is very unpredictable–conditions can be perfect one minute, deadly the next. We got caught in a whiteout towards the end of a two-day company exercise; fortunately we had some very experienced MLs amongst us and were only about 8 kilometres from Ose when the weather closed in. I thought we were just going to harbour up and see the blizzard out, but Al, one of the MLs, decided to lead the company back to Ose. I have no idea how he did it as I couldn’t see 20 metres in front of me.
After that little experience a 20-kilometre cross-country ski and navigation exercise (navex) was organised. We went clean skin but still carried our safety stores. By ‘clean skin’ I mean we were still in windproofs with cam (camouflage) whites over the top, but didn’t carry any webbing or a rifle. They broke us up into sections and we set off at different timings, each member navigating and leading the section through a nominated leg.
The wind had been quite strong over the previous week and we were in the middle of a cold snap, which meant most of the snow had turned to sharp ice, making it very difficult to ski on. At the end of the navex, we all met up at the top of a freshly graded forestry track. This was just too good a track to ski down sensibly. I don’t know who started it, but in an instant we were off racing each other down this winding track. It was wide enough for a large truck; on the right was the high ground and to the left was a reasonably steep gradient where some of the lads ended up after creaming in then finding themselves in amongst the birch trees. Christ knows how no-one wiped themselves out.
I was racing with a couple of lads who were just as keen as me to get to the bottom of the track as fast as they could. One lad took a tumble and disappeared from view, and it wasn’t long before I did the same. One of my skis caught an edge on the hard packed snow and the skis crossed over each other. I hit face down and winded myself. As I slid to a halt one of the lads stopped to make sure I was okay. I dusted myself down and refitted the ski that had come off, then continued the race.
At the bottom we conducted a head count to see if we had lost anyone as it was quite a mad dash. Happily we were all present and (more or less) correct.
There was a big contingent of US marines on deployment to Norway at the same time and, being Americans, they had brought everything: ships, landing craft, tanks, Bradley troop carriers, Humvees; you name it, they brought it. A small element stayed with us at Ose. There wasn’t any spare accommodation for them so they erected their 10-man tents on the snow-covered football fields. The weather was bad but by that stage at least we had about four hours of daylight. The Americans were struggling to put these tents up in the weather so we all went out there and gave them a hand.
Some of our blokes were wearing just windproof trousers and a Norwegian army shirt for warmth. The Americans thought these blokes were not right in the head. They were probably right. The US marines were wearing white boots that they called Mickey Mouse boots. They looked like gumboots on steroids. But they had insulation on the inside and looked very warm indeed–totally different from our pussers (anything supplied by the corps or navy) ski march boots; they even had a valve in the side to relieve pressure build-up caused by altitude.
Our boots were pretty primitive, especially compared with what was on the civilian market. You really had to look after them and apply copious amounts of nik wax to keep the leather supple to stop them from cracking when they dried out. The wax added a token layer of waterproofing that just washed off or wore off with hours of use. We had to wear Gore-Tex gaiters as well to keep our feet dry. Anyway, these Mickey Mouse boots fascinated me–not very practical for soldiering in the field, but perfect for the rear echelon areas.
We participated in a two-week exercise with the rather large American force acting as the enemy, which I found to be very unfair odds. What I didn’t appreciate at first was that these guys didn’t like the cold, and whenever possible they would remain in the warmth of their vehicles or tents, giving us a lot of freedom of movement during the exercise. Our section came across a lot of fresh vehicle tracks during a reconnaissance, so we thought we’d follow them up to see where they led. We had a frozen lake to our left and undulating ground on our right that paralleled the base of a long feature. We used the undulating ground to conceal our movement as we tactically skied towards a set of powerlines that ran from left to right in front of us.
As we reached the powerlines that paralleled a road we looked left and saw an American Humvee about 100 metres away parked in the middle of a T-junction. The rear of the vehicle was facing us and we could see mist emitting from the exhaust as the hot fumes met the freezing air. There was also a tube-launched, optically tracked, wire command, data link, guided (TOW) missile launcher mounted on the roof and facing across the frozen lake.
Mike gave us his plan on how he wanted us to approach this vehicle. Once happy with the plan we removed our skis and the eight-man section split in half leaving a team to secure our lay-up position (LUP). The rest of us pepper-potted forward in the dead ground towards the Humvee. (To pepper-pot is to fire and move, although at this time you’re not actually firing. You still provide security to the moving elements by covering the threat area as you tactically advance. It is similar to leapfrogging without actually jumping over someone’s back.) Once there, Mike and I covered each other’s movements to the left rear of the vehicle, rifles in the
shoulder and at the ready.
The best approach to a vehicle is by using its blind spots, as the occupants are likely to be preoccupied with what they can see through the windscreen. We peered in through the rear window and could see three US marines, all asleep. Mike knocked on the driver’s window. The driver opened the door with a nod and a ‘Hey man’. Mike replied, ‘We’re the enemy mate, and you are now dead.’
‘Okay man, that’s cool’ was the reply, and the door closed.
When we got back to the LUP one of the lads told us that he had noticed some smoke coming from about 30 metres away across the road. On closer inspection we could make out a well-used side track and we decided to investigate. As we got closer we could see an American 10-man tent. There was no movement in the immediate vicinity, which allowed us to move freely to the tent. Mike opened the door and walked in. I followed with one other. ‘Damn, where’d you guys come from?’ one marine said. ‘Hey guys,’ said another.
Mike said the same thing to these blokes: ‘You’re dead.’
‘That’s cool man. You guys want a coffee?’
We declined the offer, exchanged pleasantries and then left to marry up with the troop boss. This exercise was not going to be the most satisfying. The US marines had totally given up on the idea of working in those freezing conditions. We encountered the marines a few more times during the course of the exercise, but their performance didn’t improve.
6
Heating Up
We were to work alongside the US marines again on a training exercise in Kuwait after the first Gulf War. Our operational area was a town that had once housed 60,000 Kuwaitis before being blasted and ransacked by the Iraqis. The houses and other buildings were made from cheap concrete blocks and plastered on the outside. Most had four rooms inside; the front of each house had its own little walled courtyard with entry through a tin door hastily fixed into the plaster.
We conducted a lot of urban combat training there and helped train the Amiri Guard who were responsible for the safety of the Amir. These guys saw action against the Iraqis but were swiftly overwhelmed by huge enemy numbers. The massive aircraft carrier USS Nimitz was in dock and some of their boys joined us as we took the Kuwaiti soldiers into the field. The Americans had fitted them out in brand-new uniforms and camouflage gear complete with M16 carbines. But what we didn’t realise was that there were a couple of boxes of live ammunition in this kit that they had started to load into their magazines. We were using blanks while conducting this training as a few civilians still lived in the area. Luckily someone noticed and put a stop to it before anyone was shot. The Kuwait experience was good and showed me how diverse the Royal Marines were. Seven weeks earlier we were enduring frozen conditions in Norway, and now we were sweltering in the desert heat.
Summer leave in August couldn’t come soon enough. We’d had a busy year so far and it was only going to get worse. When we returned we would start our build-up training for a six-month operational deployment to Northern Ireland. The IRA hated us with a passion, and the feeling was mutual but the truth is we were the blokes in the middle with fanatics on both sides. But the Protestants were on board with the English and patrolling into a Protestant area was a welcome relief on the nerves.
Before we deployed to Northern Ireland we completed an intensive three-month counter-insurgency training course. The training camp had its own mock-up town complete with shops and other servicemen and women playing the role of local inhabitants.
On one occasion I was on guard duty at the main gate of the mock Security Forces base when a car pulled up about 4 metres away. The drill was to check any vehicle and occupants before allowing them access but when I approached I noticed that the driver was looking and acting very distressed; he was playing the part well!
My immediate thought was that the car could be booby trapped with an improvised explosive device (IED) and the driver had been ordered to drive the car into the base before the IED was detonated. I had to get him out quickly. I tried to open the driver’s door but it was jammed shut. Jumping on the bonnet of the orange Hillman Avenger I stamped on the windscreen which to my surprise (and the driver’s) shattered. I dragged the driver out and quickly pulled him inside the safety of the base.
All the training is captured by CCTV spread all over the mock town so that the instructors can play back videos to discuss the training with everyone. That evening they played my ‘improvised technique’ which got roars of laughter from everyone.
Training included riot control, day and night patrolling, covert surveillance and lots of time spent learning about the area we would working in, or ‘our patch’.
The six-month tour was from November 1993 to April 1994, and our area of operations was West Belfast at the foot of Black Mountain. We were based in Fort Whiterock, which was regularly targeted by the IRA and the 10-metre-high galvanised iron perimeter fence had hundreds of bullet holes in it. In fact we stopped counting at 270 and every now and then a fresh one would appear.
The first significant incident happened while I was on security duties at the camp. I was on the upper level of the main gate sanger (a fortified base or tower allowing movement and observation from inside that will withstand multiple strikes from small arms fire and small explosions like grenades) as 8 Troop were about to start their night patrolling program. After checking their equipment and actioning their rifles, the first brick (a four-man patrol) started to hard target (hard target is running and zigzagging or even constantly moving and changing position and body profile to make yourself less of a target) down the 150-metre access route to Springfield Road and into the notoriously dangerous Turf Lodge area. Ten minutes later I saw a flash that for a split second I thought was lightning. Actually it was an IED attack on one of the four bricks that had just left Whiterock.
The blast destroyed a gate and blew two members of that brick across the road and into a front garden. I actioned my weapon and reported the blast. Fortunately no-one was badly hurt and after some medical care and a couple of weeks off the guys returned to work.
There were countless incidents while patrolling the streets of West Belfast. We were spat on and pelted with bricks, bottles, broken glass, rocks, wood and anything else they could get their hands on. On one occasion while night patrolling in a lightly armoured Land Rover I narrowly missed being hit in the face by a bottle that was thrown from a group looking for trouble. As we drove past them we copped mega amounts of abuse, so I turned to change my arcs to cover their movements. ‘Bang!’ The bottle smashed right in front of my face on the spring-loaded Perspex shield that I was just about to push down. There wasn’t a lot we could do in that situation and the locals knew it. We were there to support the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), and that was more of a police issue.
While the Catholics were supposed to be the bad guys it was a Protestant that caused us the most grief–one John Adair, the head of the so-called Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF). He had strong links with Del, one of the lads from 8 Troop. Del was a Protestant originally from Northern Ireland, and for him the conflict was personal. And it wasn’t long before he put himself in a very compromising situation. Unbeknown to the rest of us, Adair had approached him and the two had come to an agreement. Soon Del was tipping him off about our movements. Adair would then organise to attack the IRA or a Sinn Fein office shortly after we patrolled past it.
The first attack was a drive-by shooting on a known ‘player’ (IRA member) at a bus stop. A large number of rounds hit the shelter but no-one was injured. Then they launched two attacks on the Sinn Fein office on Andersonstown Road. On the first occasion, shortly after we had patrolled past it, a vehicle stopped and a UFF member exited and rigged up an old grenade on trip to the main gate of the office. The grenade fuse was set on instant and would have immediately detonated when the gate was opened and pin pulled. Luckily, it was found before it caused any damage. The second time they attacked that office they waited for us to get a fair way away. The UFF then drove up to
the front of the office and fired an AK47 at one of the players who was on a ladder doing some repairs to the outside of the building. He was hit several times in the legs.
We reacted to the incident but once again got there too late. Suspicions were aroused and Del was placed under surveillance after he spent his leave with John Adair. He was arrested when he returned to Fort Whiterock, and spent the next five years in prison. Del was a well-liked bloke in Charlie Company and we were all shocked to hear of his arrest and the details why. As a whole we didn’t condemn his actions; in fact, he gained even more respect from us even though it was the wrong thing to do.
Adair and his Protestant mates were pretty hopeless. They were the only ones who could fire 30 rounds into a crowded bar and not hit anyone! They fired an RPG at a pub on the Falls Road and the grenade hit the roof. We did find this quite funny though.
We reacted to an incident in our area of operations involving the parachute regiment. One of their vehicles was targeted by a MK16 mortar. These mortars were home-made and laid horizontally on a milk crate or some other platform that could support it to get it on target, and could be detonated from as far as 400 metres away. We provided some support and cordoned off the area to provide security and preserve the scene for forensics.
