by Simon Cursey
I was watching the news on TV one evening with Dave, Ben and Tug as it was reported that President Nixon had just announced a cease fire for the US forces in Vietnam. As usual there was a lot of coverage of the conflict – choppers with troops firing from them, flying around the jungle.
Kev arrived in the cabin with Colin: ‘Mike has just seen us and we’ve got a big job on tomorrow. It’s another CP operation and we have to be ready to go to Lisburn by 7:00 am.’
‘No problem,’ answered Tug. ‘Mike will probably give us some idea of who and where it is in the morning.’
We were all in bed by 10:00 pm, as we didn’t know how long the next day’s job might last. It could have been for a couple of hours, or all day and into the night.
As usual, at 5:30 am we collected together all our weapons, ammunition and radio equipment – not forgetting a hot mug of coffee, organised by the Int. boys, when we walked in the ops room.
Standing behind the console, Mike explained: ‘Today we have a CP op involving the GOC himself; he’s visiting Belfast later this afternoon. But first we have to check the route for him. So just take your normal weapons, we don’t need the silenced SMGs.
By 6:00 am we were all loaded up. The day’s operation involved five cars split between two sections, as most of 82 Section would be with us on this job – a total of 14 or 15 men. We set off individually in the vehicles from our base and split in different directions as we pulled out. Immediately Mike came up on the radio, giving out a radio check which we all acknowledged in alphabetical order. This was followed moments later by Tim, 82 Section’s commander, and we could hear his section going through their acknowledgements.
The clearing and escort operation along the route planned for the GOCNI (General Officer Commanding Northern Ireland) was another classic type of CP that we were sometimes tasked to carry out. This time the GOC had scheduled a visit to Belfast later that day and we were required to check the route from Lisburn via the M1 motorway to Belfast for any suspicious activity, and then later in the afternoon to act as escort to his convoy.
By 9:00 am we had already reached Lisburn and been through the briefing. Everything was done and dusted, even though it was very crowded, with our two sections huddled round a large table that practically filled the room. We had covered the usual points, such as Ground, Situation, Mission, Execution, Admin support and Communications, and from the briefing room we all went off for some breakfast and to chew over our plans based on the GOC’s earlier briefing. The route was fairly simple: straight out of Lisburn, onto the M1, down the motorway to Belfast Grosvenor Road, then on to Donegall Square and City Hall. There the three car convoy, with us escorting, was to meet up with a uniformed Army mobile unit and carry on from there before we peeled off and away.
Our plan was that in phase one (route checking) three of our cars would concentrate on searching around the area between Donegall Road-M1 roundabout and City Hall. They were to check the areas of Broadway Industrial Estate, the hospital playing fields opposite and the Linfield Industrial Estate, together with any roads or bankings overlooking the motorway in those areas.
Our second team of two cars had the task of patrolling from the Donegall Road roundabout, Junction 1, out of town to Junction 3 along the M1. Some other unit was checking the Lisburn sector to Junction 3. We didn’t know who; we didn’t need to know.
I was commander in one of the two cars checking the M1, and what we had to look for were any possible ambush positions, explosive devices or abandoned vehicles by the roadside. Uniformed units had been checking along the motorway culverts and bridges for any devices over the previous couple of days. The GOC planned to leave Lisburn at 4:00 pm that day and the total journey time would be 30-40 minutes depending on traffic entering the city. It wasn’t much use, us checking the route two or three days before as the situation could easily change in a couple of hours. We needed to be checking the route constantly throughout the day itself, making notes of any suspect activity along the way; for example, a man loading a van, people hanging around by the motorway hard shoulder or on a rise above, and packages left by the roadside. We had to just keep on the move and continually monitor the area, checking out anything we felt was suspicious.
By 3:30 pm two of our cars had to be back at Lisburn, ready to join the convoy as escort while the other three cars had to be in position at the motorway junctions 1, 2 and 3 respectively. These cars would act as backup and an early warning of any new suspicious activity; they were then to follow on and link up behind it as the convoy passed them.
After the briefing we talked about how we didn’t like the idea of three very nice, gleaming cars travelling nose to tail together in the GOC’s convoy. They were all identical, very clean and shiny. Anyone could have seen them from a distance, approaching in convoy. We suggested that our two cars (which weren’t so pretty) should mingle among them, opening things up a little, with the GOC in between us. Our other three cars could tag onto the end of the convoy later as we passed them at the junctions. The Special Branch boys, who were there with us at the briefing, were not too happy about that idea but the GOC liked it and that was that.
Doing this type of work, you tend to call on all the military skills you’ve ever learned, developing them to fit in with the current scenario. In Camouflage and Concealment, the idea isn’t to totally hide an object but to change its shape and appearance, making it look a little different to what it really is. The main points to remember are Shape – Shine/Surface – Shadow – Spacing – Silhouette – Movement and Aircraft. Eliminating as many of these factors as possible is the main objective. We couldn’t eliminate points like ‘movement’, and ‘aircraft’ didn’t apply. Neither could we hide a gleaming three-car convoy, but we could surely change its shape a bit and rearrange its silhouette. This could possibly pass a little of the element of surprise over to us in the event of an incident. All we would require was a few seconds’ warning, if anything looked suspicious, allowing us precious time to act first.
We finished what we called our ‘sunshine’ breakfast (sausage, eggs, bacon, beans, fried bread and tomatoes) by 10:00 am. Kev and Colin had been chatting to a couple of their uniformed Royal Marines buddies sitting at a table across from ours as they ate. Next, we stuffed our jackets and jumpers with sandwiches and filled our flasks with that delightful Army tea, which had been stewing in the urn since 7:00 am. Then we all made our way out of the canteen, checked our radios and weapons and piled into the cars, setting off for the M1 and Belfast. Once again initially heading off in different directions, we carried out another radio check.
‘Hello all stations 83, this is 83 Alfa, radio check. Over.’
‘Bravo OK.’
‘Charlie OK.’
‘Delta OK.’
‘Echo OK.’
‘83 Alfa OK. Out.’
Although we comprised two sections, 82 and 83, we used our radio call sign 83 as the operation was actually given to us and only a few guys from 82 were helping us out for the day.
Cars Alfa, Bravo and Charlie cracked on to the city centre to check out that area, while I in Delta, with Echo, peeled off at the Junction 1 roundabout just outside the centre. We both pulled in at a lay-by, to once again go over our plans and finalise the details amongst ourselves.
Our task was quite straight forward, but we didn’t want to look suspicious driving up and down our piece of motorway, which was only about a five- or six-mile stretch. We felt it was best if both our cars worked independently of each other as we didn’t want to drive around in a convoy attracting attention. We would only join up together if we decided to check out some suspicious activity.
I set off first, cruising up the motorway away from the city in the direction of Lisburn, while Tug in car Echo waited a few moments before he too set off.
Some of the time we spent parked up by a junction or lay-by, just observing for a while, having some snap and a sip of tea before driving off again. Often we appeared that we were checking a wheel or lo
oking under the bonnet while the others in our car would be observing with binoculars and a sandwich, making notes and taking photos of activity in the area.
During this period in the Troubles, abandoned cars were always treated as suspicious because usually the only reason they were abandoned was that they were stolen and/or rigged up as a bomb. During our patrol that day we found the odd cardboard box lying around by the roadside, but they all checked out to be nothing. We also spotted one or two vans loading and unloading in car parks near the motorway hard shoulder so we took some photos and made notes, but they eventually went away.
At about lunch time, however, while again heading out in the direction of Lisburn, we noticed some men on the opposite side milling around in the back garden of a house in the Ladybrook Estate. Parts of that area were elevated from the motorway on top of a cutting and offered good views up and down the road; it was an ideal ambush site. We kept these men under observation for a while from various points along the M1. There appeared to be one man inside the garden who was chatting over a low fence to two other men with their backs to the motorway below them.
After an hour or so the situation hadn’t really changed very much and we decided to go and check them out, so I radioed Tug in our other car to assist us. ‘We’ll pull up on the hard shoulder,’ I told him. ‘You and me will go up the banking and see what they’re up to while everyone else keeps watch.
‘OK Sy, no problem,’ Tug acknowledged.
We both approached from the south and pulled up on the hard shoulder about 15 metres apart and adjacent to the garden. Tug and me emerged from our vehicles and casually made our way up the banking while our two drivers and rear seat men got out and stood casually chatting by the vehicles, observing us and the men in the garden area above them. None of our weapons was in view at this point.
As we climbed, our main view was the head and shoulders of the men, in line with the bedroom windows of the houses beyond them. Neither of us was very happy about this whole situation and we hoped it would turn out to be quite innocent. My stomach was tight and I was concentrating on keeping my breathing calm and regular, trying not to look nervous and casually chatting with Tug. He was being his usual comical self, but I noticed a note of tension in his voice – he knew we might be walking into a problem in just a couple more moments.
We were on our own walking exposed towards what could easily be an IRA ambush ‘lying in wait’. Our backup was our mates, some twenty or thirty metres away and below, watching for any sudden movement. All we had was a couple of 9 millies hidden in our waist bands: it was not the best of situations to be in, but it had to be done. We needed to approach these characters and find out what they were up to and why they were hanging around the area for so long. In a situation like this, if we were forced to confront someone and speak to him, we made sure that only one of us would ask the questions while the other observed.
The men in the garden noticed our approach but simply glanced over at us a couple of times and made no attempt to turn to face us or come near. Then as we breasted the banking, only a few metres from the fence, all hell suddenly broke loose. The two men on our side of the fence ducked down and quickly scurried away to one side. At the same instant the man in the garden bolted to his left into a wooden shed, and right then from two or three bedroom windows a colossal amount of automatic fire opened up at us from about ten to 12 metres away. As soon as we saw the men run, we knew they were running for a reason, and both Tug and me had instinctively dropped to the ground as the windows sprang open.
There were perhaps three or four gunmen in total – I’m not too sure – and they had begun shooting at us simultaneously. Within a split second, though, our lads by the cars had drawn their weapons and started to return fire with two SMGs and two 9 millies, giving us covering fire which allowed Tug and me to scramble down the banking and get back to the cars. First thing, we rolled and dropped into an area of ‘dead ground’ where we couldn’t be seen, just below the brow of the banking.
We both lay there safe for a moment, two metres apart. We looked at each other and knew we were both thinking the same thought: How the hell can we get out of this mess?
We heard the shots from both sides cracking over our heads as we began to clamber and roll down the banking toward the roadside.
‘Don’t stick your bum up so high, it’ll get shot off,’ Tug muttered to me on the way down.
As we slid and skidded down the banking off the top of the ridge the gunmen lost sight of us, and for the moment we were in a reasonably safe position. We knew, though, that as we moved closer to the cars, we would again emerge into view and make a couple of extra targets for them.
About five metres from the cars we both stopped and waited for a signal from John, my driver, to tell us the moment to sprint to the vehicles. There were shots bouncing all around us but we managed to get back, in between the fearsome exchanges. I scurried around the rear to the driver’s side, passing Kev firing out from the back of the car. I positioned myself crouched down behind the engine and managed to get a few rounds down as we prepared to make a quick exit when the moment was right. It was horrendous, like being in the middle of a Chinese street carnival, cracks and thumps all around us, and the adrenalin was racing. The vehicles were taking lots of hits and most of the windows were out. I clearly saw the rounds chipping and zinging off the road inches from my face, just in front of the car.
John was right next to me by the engine as we took turns at returning the fire. One of us bobbed up for a couple of seconds and fired three or four rounds, and then the other would do the same. He had fired more rounds than me and I noticed him quickly changing his magazine while sat on the floor with his back against the car. He simply pressed the magazine release button with his right thumb, and with one hand slipped the empty magazine out and slotted a fresh one on. He then flipped the lever on the left side to allow the working parts to spring forward ready to fire … all in the blink of an eye.
He looked up at me as I crouched onto one knee, bellowing over the noise of the gun fire something which sounded like, ‘I wish we were all back at base.’
Kev, the ‘big bear’, was lying on the back seat of the car with his feet and SMG pointing up towards the banking, firing automatic bursts of three to four rounds every few seconds. I noticed the man that had run to the garden shed stumble out again and collapse, as Kev riddled its thin panel walls. The guy had obviously seen too many movies: a wooden garden shed, with panels not much thicker than a figure eleven target, would never stop 9mm rounds from an SMG on full auto.
Tug in the other vehicle team shouted to me, ‘OK Sy?’ and gave me a wave to indicate they were ready to move.
We all discharged a final group of bursts of fire and then the drivers jumped in the cars first, followed by the commanders and then the other SMG gunner, covering each other with fire as we moved. Kev didn’t have to move, he was lying on his back on the back seat, feet out the open door giving them hell up the banking with his SMG.
This whole contact lasted only four or five minutes and it was so intense that we hadn’t any time to give out a contact report on the radio until we were speeding out of the area, with Kev still blasting away as we left. We made our way back to base, while our HQ Operations assigned two other teams to take our place and join the escort run. They also informed the local uniformed unit to get over to Ladybrook and have a look around the area of the contact. We knew for sure we had hit the man in the garden shed, plus perhaps a couple more in the bedroom windows. The Army would find out. There might not be any bodies or weapons lying around by the time they arrived, but for sure there would be signs of a firefight and they could gather any useful evidence that might be lying around.
We were very lucky that day, not one of us had a scratch, but the vehicles were a mess and they were what saved us. My car alone had 21 entry holes in the metalwork, not including the windows, but thankfully none of the tyres were damaged. I think this was because of the angle fro
m us to the gunmen: they couldn’t really see our wheels from their positions as we were directly under the banking.
Between us all we had perhaps expended over a hundred rounds of 9mm with four pistols and two SMGs. The gunmen must have fired 60 to 80 rounds at us during the few minutes of the contact. Our main aim at the time was to get away. The enemy was above us on high ground, we had very little cover and all we could do was to try and put down a superior amount of fire power while we made our exit, hopefully dropping as many players as possible on our way.
Under normal circumstances in an ambush, such as in a jungle, the procedure is to go forward and fight through it. When caught up in a well-laid ambush, running away is simply not an option. All exit routes will be covered by heavy machine guns in an SF (sustained fire) role, in fixed firing positions and locked onto the killing zone. Or there could be Claymore mines placed along the exit routes to prevent anyone from escaping.
In our situation, in an urban area like Belfast, to try and fight through the ambush was impossible and even suicidal. We would have had to dash over open ground, uphill to the garden fence, clamber over the fence, then run across the garden area to the house. Next, we would have to break into the house and clear the downstairs area before fighting our way up to the bedrooms. If we had grenades or something like those small, telescopic, throw-away hand-held LAW 66mm missile launchers with us, we could perhaps have gone forward and fought through. But unfortunately we didn’t have any. Only the IRA was allowed to use weapons like those.
In a situation like this, when we had been involved in a firefight, even if the cars weren’t damaged they were sent away to be re-sprayed and have the number plates changed. In this matter we had to take much care. We needed to ensure that the new registrations and colours were correct for the model type and the manufactured year of each car. The IRA would soon twig that a Ford Cortina registered in, say, 1970 could only be one of perhaps seven different colours – especially the 1600E model – and that the number plate also had to belong to that particular period. There were a few times when we drove along Falls Road or into Andersonstown that we saw our own car types and registration numbers painted on a house wall for everyone to see, which tended to make you a little twitchy, driving past it.