by Holroyd, Tom
What can you tell me about Ireland?
If you know anything about British and especially English history you would know that there is a long history of involvement in Ireland, most of it aggressive, that goes all the way back to William the Conqueror. Northern Ireland was still part of the UK and we had maintained a large military presence there despite the success of the peace process and when the Panic hit the Army essentially got as many people as they could into their camps and Burghs and then sealed the gates. Fortunately, Northern Ireland had a very small population, something like 2 million and most of that was centred around the cities which was where our Burghs where. The result of all this was that within a year of the Panic, the Brigade in Northern Ireland had pretty much cleared the cities of infected, an incredible feat I think you will agree. Of course, there were still a few knocking around here and there and of course there were still those that were wandering over the border.
The Republic of Ireland was a whole different issue though; a small population and an even smaller Defence Force, some 10,000 strong. By the time the Panic really hit, with most of the Garda already dead and their military struggling to cope, their government collapsed and fled to Galloway. It was at that point that they made a formal request for military aid from the British Government and although that sounds like a very simple request it was hugely emotive.
Ireland is England’s original sin in the same way that the US treatment of the Native Americans and the Australian treatment of the Aborigines is theirs. To the Irish, we represented a thousand years of intervention, invasion and conquest and now we were planning to send an army to help them out. The negotiations began in late September of that first winter and as you can imagine there was a lot of political wrangling involved. By the end of the first week it was pretty clear that the negotiations were hung up on the terms of the agreement, understandably the Irish were a little worried that we were going to annex them. It was only when one of the Government negotiators suggested that Ireland formally request to join the Commonwealth and then request a military alliance that the deadlock was broken and we had our agreement.
Could you explain the terms of the agreement?
Well, essentially it required the UK to provide military support to aid the Armed Forces of the Republic of Ireland and support their government in re-claiming their country. In practice it meant a lot of sleepless nights for me as we planed the first major operation of the war.
Sorting out the supply issues alone almost broke me as we were essentially planning an expeditionary operation to re-capture a country at a time when the UK’s economy was in ruins and we barely had enough ammo and equipment to cope. I was repeatedly asked by my staff why we were doing this at such a break neck speed, why not wait until all the fledgling industries were up and running before we attempted to clear Ireland? My answer was always the same; because a friend is in need and they have asked us for help.
There were of course greater political motives and I think a lot of credit can be given to the Prince Regent for taking the long view. By that I mean he was looking both at the short term; gain the trust of the Irish and atone for the sins of our ancestors and at the same time open up Ireland as a place of refuge to people across Europe. While in the long term he knew that by accepting Ireland into the Commonwealth and helping them it would sow the seeds for future operations to help Commonwealth countries and build a stronger organisation that could help to rid the world of the infected threat.
By the time spring came around we had managed to scrape together some ten thousand soldiers, trained them and equipped them with whatever we had available. At first glance though they appeared to be less of an army and more of a mob. From the look of them you would have thought that a bunch of Orcs had fallen off the pages of Lord of the Rings. All of them were in miss matching clothes; a mixture of old uniforms, looted hiking gear and lots of different types of headwear. The one thing we made sure each man had was a good set of boots as he was bloody well going to need them. Everyone had a rifle and as much ammunition as they could carry but after that each soldier carried whatever close combat weapon they could find, anything from crow bars, meat cleavers to wood axes and metal bars. If it could crack a skull it was carried. I remember this one chap, big Scottish lad, had found a bloody great claymore from somewhere and had it strapped to his back like an extra from Braveheart, very odd but apparently he was lethal with it.
We mustered them all at Garelockhead and began shipping them over to Belfast in February, the crossing was bloody awful and I can say that from personal experience as I went over to take personal command of the whole thing. I guess that it must have been something to do with the colder temperatures that the entire world was experiencing but the seas were rough and choppy and no matter how plush a cruise ship you commandeer; sea sickness is not pleasant.
By mid-February we had managed to get the entire army and it’s supplies across, formed it up in the cleared Belfast harbour and linked up with the Brigade garrisoned there.
What was your plan for the clearance?
With only 15,000 troops to work with I was rather limited in my options, there was no way that we could use the American approach. We just did not have the numbers to line them up and march across the whole country so I decided to use the same approach that we had used at Junction. Before you say it, I know that everyone at Junction had died but the plan itself was sound; it only failed because of the numbers. At Junction a single Battalion took on one and a half million infected, that was odds of three thousand to one and that is why they were over run. My plan was to even out the numbers, disperse the Battalions across the country side, advance on numerous different routes and take on smaller numbers of infected on ground that favoured us.
However, before any of that could happen we had to ensure our rear was secure and here the weather was a blessing. It may have been bloody cold and hard work wading through the snow to smash any infected we could find but it made me, and I hope the rest of the army, happy that we would not have an outbreak in the rear areas.
By mid-March the weather was starting to warm up and it was time to send out the Battalions to their start points. My plan here was that each unit would take a main road and march down it making as much noise as possible. Whenever they encounter a single infected or group of infected an appropriate number of soldiers would stop to take it down. Whenever they met a group that needed a larger response the unit would find a defensible location, like a hill top, and then let the infected come to them. In this way we managed to cover a huge amount of land in quite a short amount of time and while it was not perfect it did manage to clear most of the country.
Obviously, we had to change tactics when it came to cities as these tended to have the largest swarms surrounding the small groups of survivors. In this case the unit would stop outside the city and dig a marching camp similar to the Roman Legion camps of old. Once this was done the unit would bang away and make as much noise as possible in order to draw as many of the infected out of the city as possible. In reality, all it took was one of them to see you and moan and that moan then carried to others who then moaned and homed in on the first one and so on and so on until you had an entire horde pouring down on you. I was with the 1st Battalion Irish Guards outside Dublin with half the city bearing down on us, pipes playing and drums beating in the background and those wonderful soldiers firing like clockwork as row after row of infected were taken down. Of course, the hard part came when we had to clear through the cities for those that were trapped and could not get to us.
It took five months but by the time the first snows fell in September I was shaking hands with the Irish Premier in Galloway. It was a hell of a moment and at the time I had no idea how important Ireland would become.
How do you mean?
Well for one it was a huge moral and strategic victory. We had proven to the world but more importantly to ourselves that we were not beaten and that we could fight back. I think it really helped to show
people the light at the end of the tunnel to keep going and to keep fighting. At the tactical level we had tested many different techniques in “zombie warfare”, discarded those that did not work and refined those that did, in many ways Ireland was a trial run for everything that came after.
At a political level it had shown leadership from the UK Government, something that was badly needed after that farce in Stirling. It drew us closer together with Ireland and would eventually lead to them being a founding member of the New Commonwealth.
Economically it opened up huge areas of Ireland to farming and within two years the Ministry of Resources had built up enough infrastructure for Ireland to become the bread basket of Britain and then eventually Europe.
But most important was the fact that we could open up Ireland to all those refugees still floating around the world’s oceans. The surprising part was how few refugees actually turned up, baring of course the Pope who arrived with half the Vatican in tow. I think the reason for this was that during the Panic, most European refugees had headed for Iceland in the mistaken belief that it was cold all year round and would be safe from the infected. You just have to look at it now to see how wrong they were. Still it allowed the UK to offer sanctuary to those who could make it. Like I said earlier, the Prince Regent had taken the long view and it had paid off.
What about the operation in Cyprus?
Well that was a whole different kettle of fish. That operation had nothing to do with the UK Government but was a brilliant example of a local commander taking the initiative and re-acting to the situation on the ground. Something that was very rare in the pre-war years, not because of the commanders you understand but because Whitehall and the MOD insisted on running every war from London. The soldiers called it “the long screwdriver”.
So what was the situation on the ground?
Well in the pre-war years, Cyprus was still split between the Turks controlling the north of the island and the Greeks controlling the south. The UN force kept the peace between them and two battalions provided security for the UK Sovereign Base Areas at Akrotiri and Dhekelia. We had something like 3,500 troops on the island as well as a large contingent of civilians, families and Cypriots who lived and worked in the camps.
When we implemented Op Senlac the Commander British Forces Cyprus was ordered to seal his gates and dig in for a long-term siege. Have you read his book? You should, it is a bloody good read. It was absolutely astounding what they went through in the first year alone. No sooner had they finished their defences and sealed the gates, then the first outbreaks began to occur on the island. Initially the infected were dealt with quickly by the large military presence on both sides of the divide but as the outbreaks got worse and more and more refugees from the Middle East began to arrive, the situation deteriorated rapidly. The problem was that with our troops pulled back behind their walls there was no one to stop the Greeks and Turks from facing each other down across the dividing line. The bloody fools were so concerned that the other side was going to make a land grab that they kept most of their troops on the line while the Island descended into chaos behind them. Eventually the inevitable happened and someone took a shot at someone else and all hell broke out. Within minutes there was a full scale conventional war raging across the length of the Island with tanks and artillery being used on population centres. It was insanity, two sides lashing out at each other with no clear objectives just years of fear and mistrust culminating in a stupid bloody fight. For two weeks both sides battered each other to a stalemate, wrecking God knows how much of the island in the process and killing God knows how many civilians.
It was at that point that the British commander decided that enough was enough and began his break out from the base areas. His plan was to push out across the Island, eliminate any infected that he came across and link up with any surviving soldiers or civilians. As I understand it he had a relatively easy time of it as the vast majority of the infected on the island had been drawn to the dividing line by the noise of all the fighting. He used this breathing space to get as many civilians back into the base areas as possible before he swept from one side of the island to the other. Within three months he had swept the island clear of infected, rescued most of the civilians and managed to knock some sense into what was left of the Greek and Turkish militaries and got them to work together. It was an incredible achievement and he deserved every single one of the honours and awards he was given.
By the end of the operation there was a stable, secure island in the sea of chaos that was the Middle East that was able to act as a staging point for the later UN operations. In the short term through we were able to use the huge radio transmitters and receivers that were on the island to broadcast the BBC World Service to any one still alive. I think that ability to reach all those people in the Middle East, North Africa and Europe and provide them with useful information and advice but most of all hope, was one of the most important things that Britain ever did in the war.
Supply lines
Exeter
It is early morning in Exeter and Josh Peck has kindly offered to take me on one of his daily patrols. Today’s route is up the coast to Southampton where he will take the time to show me the former supply dock which played such a huge role in the war effort. We take a slow twenty-minute flight following the coastline. Josh is flying the helicopter while I have taken the role of observer. Normally Josh would be accompanied by a qualified spotter whose job it was to monitor the towed sonar. This system is used in conjunction with a line of sonar buoys placed around the entire coast to give some warning of a sea borne incursion. With several million infected still roaming the sea floor this is still a very real threat.
You know, if you had flown this route before the war you just wouldn’t recognise it today. I mean look at it, the entire coast line is essentially one long shingle beach, great during those long summer months for family trips but bloody awful when it came to defence, you can see why they drew the defensive line at Exeter. All those lovely sea side towns are still empty today, people just don’t want to live near the coast anymore and they definitely don’t go to the beach anymore. It’s such a shame; I have some fond memories of family beach holidays from round here.
Anyway, I told you how I was recruited right, because of my flying skills, well I tell you those skills were nothing compared to what I had to learn when flying for the military. I thought I knew how to fly but some of the things they taught me to do and then I did myself later, I never thought you could do with a helicopter. All my training was going on at the same time as the reforms in the military, you know all that stuff about laying up the big navy ships, re-organising the Army and grounding anything the RAF flew that couldn’t carry supplies. I heard a lot about it in the bar. A lot of bitching and moaning about how the Government were getting rid of their fancy fighters. I just couldn’t see the problem though, maybe because I was a Civi but what use is a fighter jet against infected. The way I heard it, the Government had spent billions on jets designed for the Cold War that were obsolete when they finally arrived, so was it any surprise that they were all grounded. There was a lot of rivalry between the helicopter pilots and the fast jet boys and God did we have a laugh when all those arrogant buggers ended up flying the transport fleet, it must have been like going from driving a Ferrari to a milk float.
Part of the reform was all the Army, Navy and RAF helicopters being grouped together under the control of Helicopter Command. Back then the main aim of the unit was the re-supply of the Burghs. Most of them were in-land and therefore not accessible from the sea. None of them were big enough for the C-130s so it was up to Heli Command to get what we could to them. One of my first missions was flying a doctor and some supplies to one of the Burghs near Glastonbury. It was a bit hairy as I was in quite a big Heli, one of the Merlins, and it was very tight landing zone. I almost clipped the outer wall at one point but just managed to put her down in one piece, still brings me out in a cold sweat how close that on
e was.
Those flights became fairly routine after a while and it was because of the regular flights that we discovered a lot of the un-registered settlements. No one had any idea how many people were living in The Gray or where but it was because of flights like mine that people were re-discovered. One time I was on a routine re-supply run and was flying over Poole when my door gunner caught sight of this group of people waving madly from the roof of a block of flats, I circled round and hovered over the roof trying to find somewhere to land but it was way too small. So I got my co-pilot to write a note saying we would be back with help, we stuck it in an empty water bottle and dropped it onto the roof. We hung around long enough to make sure they got it, marked the location on our map and carried on with our mission. When we got back to base we informed the higher ups and asked for permission to drop them some supplies but we were denied.