Torn Apart

by Ken Wharton

  COALISLAND ATTACK

  On 4 November 1983, acting on information received from a ‘high-ranking Provisional IRA source inside the Tyrone and Fermanagh Brigade’, it was learned that a weapons cache had been buried near a derelict house at Magheramulkenny on the Clonoe Road in Coalisland. By 1983, because of the efficacy of the ‘cell’ system, the source of the information, by definition, had to be highly placed. An SAS unit had gone to the location several days earlier, digging in under a hedge with a perfect view of the cache; the weather was cold and damp, making it an unpleasant op for the elite soldiers. A three-man PIRA team arrived in the early hours of the morning of the 4th, including Colm McGirr (22), Brian Campbell (19) and an unnamed third member of the Tyrone and Fermanagh Brigade. It should be pointed out that Campbell’s brother, Seamus, had recently escaped from HMP Maze; as a consequence he would have been under surveillance anyway. In the very early hours, the watching soldiers saw a car approach their position and, although their lights were dimmed, as the men stepped out it was clear that they did not suspect that anything was wrong. Two men exited passenger doors, while a third – the driver – remained inside the vehicle. The two men – McGirr and Campbell – went directly to where the arms were located, with McGirr retrieving a US-manufactured Armalite, which he unwrapped from its protective covering before passing it to Campbell. He then uncovered a shotgun that he was holding in ‘... an aggressive manner ...’ As the latter began to walk towards the car, the hidden soldiers shouted a challenge to the two men; Campbell, still holding the shotgun, turned towards where the soldiers were positioned. Interpreting this action as a threat to their lives, they opened fire with a burst of automatic fire. McGirr was hit at least twelve times, dying instantly, while Campbell received two fatal wounds. The third PIRA man immediately revved the engine, wheels spinning wildly as he sought to escape. The soldiers opened fire on the car, but despite being wounded and covered in broken glass from a shattered windscreen, he managed to drive away.

  The car was later found abandoned, although covered in enough bloodstains to suggest that the driver had been badly shot up. He was later smuggled across the border, where a sympathetic or possibly struck-off doctor would have tended his wounds. No trace was ever found of this man, but he managed to make a statement to his commanders, which was relayed to the world via a Catholic priest. Sinn Féin claimed that the men had been cold-bloodedly shot dead without warning, using the term ‘executions’ to describe the deaths of McGirr and Campbell. There was, however, no mention that an Army medic had tried to save the life of the fatally injured Campbell by performing an emergency tracheotomy. It was reported that, after five minutes of treatment, the PIRA man went into shock and died. The Armalite that was recovered later was shown to have been responsible for the deaths of four off-duty SF personnel in the Dungannon area, as well as a further twenty-two other attacks.

  Again, the undercover soldiers had further demonstrated to the Republicans that no operation was ever going to be completely without risk, and that they were dealing with an enemy as ruthless as themselves. It was obvious that the SAS could not be at every single arms cache, but the spectre or the suspicion that they might was enough to dull the enthusiasm of even the most dedicated PIRA Volunteer.

  THWARTING AN ASSASSINATION AT GRANSHA

  Grangewood-Gransha Hospital is an acute mental health clinic for in-patients situated close to the River Foyle on Londonderry’s eastern bank. In 1984, one of the psychiatric unit’s porters had another job: he was a part-time soldier in the UDR. It is clear that sometime in November 1984, an informant in the IRA’s Londonderry Brigade supplied information to his handlers that the Provisionals had learned through sources in the hospital itself that a part-time UDR soldier worked there. The information implied that he was to be killed at some time between 22 November and 6 December. At this point it would be timely to refresh the reader’s memory about the timings of IRA operations.

  The Provisional IRA went to great lengths to minimise risks to their men – other than on certain occasions, when they deliberately set up their own Volunteers, suspected of being informants or a threat to the running of their unit – and maximise the chances of success. Their bombings and shootings were planned to the letter, often weeks and sometimes months in advance. Conversely, many of the INLA and Loyalist operations were often spontaneous and fuelled by alcohol. Hugh Jordan, among other writers, states that at a drinking session, particularly among the UFF, there would be a drunken suggestion of ‘killing a Taig’, and another innocent Catholic would be shot dead.

  On 6 December, Daniel Doherty (23), who lived in the Republican stronghold ‘Top of the Town’ and was a member of the IRA’s Gobnascale unit, and William Fleming (19) from the Creggan estate were dispatched to the Gransha on a stolen motorbike. Undercover soldiers – reputed to be from the SAS – were waiting in a car, deliberately chosen because of its nondescript appearance, in the hospital car park. Units had been keeping a watch during the soldier’s working hours for the previous two weeks. At approximately 08.00 hours, the normal time of the man’s arrival, Fleming and Doherty were observed entering the hospital car park on their stolen motorbike. One of the undercover soldiers spotted that Fleming was holding a pistol. Consequently, there was no time for anything other than direct action, so he rammed the motorcycle, throwing both men to the ground. It is stated that Fleming made a sudden movement towards his weapon, at which the soldiers opened fire. Fleming* was hit by a burst of automatic fire, dying after receiving nineteen wounds; Doherty was hit six times, also dying.

  Martin McGuinness, the Provisionals’ most senior man in the North, was livid with anger, with a spokesman claiming that the soldiers had fired sixty-eight rounds into the two PIRA men. At the funeral in Londonderry’s City cemetery just below the Creggan, McGuinness said, ‘... only the freedom fighters of the IRA could bring Britain to the negotiating table.’

  There was anger, too, in the South when the Minister for Foreign Affairs in the Oireachtas Éireann (Irish Parliament), Peter Barry, said, ‘In Northern Ireland, under British rule, it is the army who set the ambush – it was an ambush, nothing else. No attempt to arrest was made. The men were shot dead without any chance to surrender.’ On the British mainland, John Hume, the SDLP leader, had observers wondering if he had been somehow comatose since 1969 when he uttered, ‘This raises very fundamental questions as to whether the authorities have abandoned the rule of law, and whether we are now in a war situation.’ In a private conversation the following year, the author was told by a Labour MP, ‘He must have forgotten that his beloved Republicans have been murdering people without warning for the last 15 years.’

  This was the third such ambush carried out by the SAS; it caused further consternation among the Provisionals, with demands being made of the Army Council for an internal investigation to root out the informers. One RUC source estimated that at least half of the paramilitaries were informants at one stage or another. This author thinks this unlikely, but even if the IRA wasn’t riddled with such a high number of informers, the crucial point was: they thought that they were. This had the concomitant result of restricting operations, even causing them to be abandoned if they had an inkling that the chances of compromise were high. This undoubtedly saved lives and property as the organisation became more and more paranoid, ostracising supporters and members alike with internal investigations leading to quite draconian measures. In many instances, action was taken against Volunteers, even those who were innocent of being agents, up to and including executions by the nutting squad. The SAS attacks were few and far between, but they were extremely effective and reduced the effectiveness of the Provisional IRA. Moreover, the ‘big one’ was coming; it would take more than two years; it would be, in PIRA terms, a ‘spectacular’, but it would not be one that they would enjoy.

  LOUGHGALL AMBUSH

  At the start of the first Gulf War in 1991, the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein warned the West that it faced ‘the mother of all b
attles’. Ever since his ignominious defeat, the term has become much of a cliché, being used at every opportunity, generally by the tabloid press. To continue in this vein, the Provisional IRA suffered the ‘mother of all setbacks’ at an isolated police station in Co. Tyrone in May 1987. Loughgall was a tiny rural RUC station in Co. Tyrone; it was isolated; it was sparsely manned; it was the perfect target for James ‘the Executioner’ Lynagh and the IRA’s East Tyrone/Fermanagh Brigade.

  British Army/RUC intel had been made aware for some time of a planned attack on the RUC base at Loughgall, through either a highly placed informant inside the Provisionals’ Army Council, or possibly within their Fermanagh/South Tyrone units. The source of this information has never been revealed, although there is some speculation that one of the twelve-man ASU had been the informant responsible for the IRA’s biggest setback of the entire Troubles. The PIRA plan was to attack the station, killing as many police officers as they could find, before levelling the base with a huge explosive device. The location of the arms and explosives to be used in the attack was also revealed to the SF. This second factor, detailing the major level of information supplied, suggests that the informant may have been a far more senior Provisional than previously suspected. Furthermore, some sources have suggested to the author that there was a second agent inside the ASU, thus providing two levels of information.

  In the dead of night on the 7th, the base was very quietly evacuated, with the officers being sent home, warned to keep their curtains tightly shut, and under no circumstances to venture outside or even open their front doors to visitors. Under the blackness of a late spring night, dressed in black uniforms and balaclavas, soldiers from the SAS along with members of the RUC’s Headquarters Mobile Support Unit (HMSU) deployed into their ambush spots around the base in hedges and ditches. Others were deployed on the far side of the Ballygasey Road in classic ‘cut-off’ positions to prevent any gunmen escaping. This was the launch of Operation Judy.

  The leader of the attack was James ‘the Executioner’ Lynagh (32), an Irish citizen, proponent of the ‘flying column’ style of large-scale attacks that were designed to shock and subdue policemen and soldiers before killing them; it was modelled on the type of attacks preferred by the IRA in both the Civil War and the 1956 border campaign. He was thought responsible for up to a dozen killings in Northern Ireland, being close to the top of the RUC’s most wanted list. The following quote from an anonymous police source succinctly sums up the Executioner: ‘Lynagh was an evil, vicious bastard; he was long overdue for slotting. He killed for the sake of it and he went to Loughgall to continue killing.’

  Lynagh’s number two was Patrick ‘Paddy’ Kelly (32), along with another senior PIRA man, Pádraig McKearney (25); they too supported the ‘flying column’ style of attack. Not only was Lynagh feared and reviled by the Security Forces (SF), but he was also loathed by some senior members of the Provisionals, who saw his bloodlust as ‘unrequired baggage’ on the journey to the eventual ceasefire and talks with the British Government. The other members of the ASU were: Declan Arthurs (21), Gerard O’Callaghan (29), Tony Gormley (25), Eugene Kelly (25) and Seamus Donnelly (19). It is known that four other members of the twelve-man ASU were left behind to guard hostages as well as drive the recce vehicle; none of these have ever been publicly named. These two other unnamed Volunteers may have been responsible for the hijacking of several vehicles and pieces of equipment that were left in camouflaged positions in the Tyrone countryside. It is highly possible that these were left in situ until the dust had settled on the SF operation.

  Based on the high-grade intel they were receiving, both the Army and the RUC kept a twenty-four-hour surveillance on the arms and explosives, which were hidden at a remote farmhouse, approximately 8 miles away from the targeted police station. It is also thought that undercover personnel had planted listening devices into the homes of several of the PIRA team, meaning that the SF were always one step ahead, at every stage of the operation. At round 16.50 hours on the 8th, Lynagh was spotted crossing the border from Co. Monaghan by more undercover officers; the die was cast.

  During the afternoon, the twelve-man PIRA unit collected the deadly tools required for the job; these included an agricultural digger, which they stole from a farm at nearby Lisasly Road, some 2 miles away from the RUC base. An explosive device containing 200lb (91kg) was placed in the scoop of the digger, with the intention of being fused close to the station. At this point, two of the team stayed behind to keep the farmer and his family from telephoning the police. Declan Arthurs drove the slow-moving digger in the direction of the target, while two others drove ahead in a stolen car in order to carry out reconnaissance of the area. The bulk of the team drove in a stolen Hiace van; all of them were heavily armed. However, even as Arthurs was commencing his laborious journey, undercover soldiers had already radioed the situation back to the ambush point, prompting both soldiers and policemen to move into their final positions.

  The PIRA plan was to arrive at the station and immediately open fire with automatic weapons on the officers inside, while Arthurs drove the mobile bomb through the perimeter gates, abandoning it and then running to safety before the resulting explosion levelled the base. The author was informed by a respected former RUC contact that a Special Branch agent, thought to have been the junior source who leaked details of the raid, was instructed by his handlers to wear something that would make him stand out. The ill-conceived rationale was that when or if the ambush took place, the soldiers and police officers would attempt to ensure that he was not hit. At this point, it is unclear if he attempted to wear different clothing to the rest of the group – blue boiler suits with black balaclavas, along with US-supplied body armour – but was ordered by Lynagh or Kelly to dress as the others were. The van set off with both of the Kellys in the front seats, with Gormley and the others in the rear.

  At around 19.00 hours, the two vehicles passed the station and drove along the road, before turning around and repeating the process. It is thought that they suspected something, but the decision was taken to launch the attack anyway. The ‘scout car’ containing two gunmen drove away from the station to await the commencement of the attack; these two men, as well as the others who were holding the farmer hostage, were the only ones to escape the carnage. Driving from the direction of the Ballygasey Road, the Hiace (registration number GJI 4417) approached with the station on their right. The van stopped, and two of the men – Gormley and O’Callaghan – joining Arthurs on the digger. He then smashed through the station gates, before lighting both of the forty-second fuses. Seconds afterwards, three others jumped out of the van, including Patrick Kelly who was driving, immediately spraying the windows of the station with automatic fire. Under any interpretation of the rules of engagement (ROE), the undercover soldiers and police officers were entitled to open fire, which they did with instant precision, using a variety of weapons including Heckler & Koch (HK) G3, American M16s and an L7A2 general-purpose machine gun.

  The shock-and-awe tactics took the PIRA gunmen completely by surprise, prompting them to run back into the waiting van. More than 600 rounds were fired at the van, riddling it with approximately 125 bullet holes, killing or mortally wounding the men inside. The primed device then exploded, adding more confusion and chaos to the gun battle. Three members of the SF were badly injured by the explosion, as the shattered digger hurled deadly pieces of razor-sharp shrapnel into the air. Arthurs ran across to the nearby Loughgall AFC ground but was shot several times close to the entrance to the small stadium. When the shooting finally stopped, Lynagh, Kelly, McKearney, Arthurs, O’Callaghan, Gormley, Kelly and Donnelly were all dead; all had been armed, with the following weapons: H&K G3 rifles, one FN FAL rifle, two FN FNC rifles, a Franchi SPAS-12T shotgun and a Ruger Security Six revolver. Forensic scientists later linked the guns to seven murders and twelve attempted murders in the Mid-Ulster area.

  There was, however, a ninth death that day as two brothers drove into the ambus
h area on their way home from work; they were wearing identical blue boiler suits to those worn by the PIRA team. Several members of the ambush party opened fire, hitting the vehicle more than fifty times. Anthony Hughes (36) was killed instantly, but his passenger, Oliver, despite being hit fourteen times, survived after an SAS medic gave him emergency treatment.

  Shortly afterwards, units of the UDR took control of the ambush scene while the SAS and RUC HMSU teams were helicoptered to a barracks in Portadown, where, the author understands, there was some jubilation. There was much Loyalist celebration with the legend ‘SAS 8 IRA 0’ painted on the roof of a derelict house in Portadown, strategically overlooking the main Dublin–Belfast railway line; the words were still there, certainly as late as 2002.