The British Army in Northern Ireland 1975-77

by Ken Wharton

  The patrol left by the back gate to secure the far end of a sports pitch that ran by the gate into a new housing estate being built, which over looked the heli-pad. They were out for about an hour and a half and on their return were tasked to do a sweep through the village into the market square and return by that route. This was not a route often done in daylight by any of the patrols, because if ‘bounced’ it would mean returning fire into a built up area causing civilian casualties; obviously, something to be avoided as much as possible and not provide the IRA with propaganda that they were very good at turning against any SF actions.

  The events which unfolded will live with me forever. In between operating a machine and chatting with the guy next to me, I watched as the patrol entered the square, two men taking up positions at each corner across the street from each other in order to cover the patrol crossing the square and up the road into the base. I watched along with others in the control room as each member passed and walked backward towards the main gate of the station. The first two had taken up positions at the main gate to cover the rest of the patrol as it made its way back. The guy on the right-hand side of the road (who I didn’t know to be James Borucki at that time) stood to walk backwards facing the square; there was a flash and a bang that shook the base.

  As the plume of smoke cleared it was obvious some kind of device had detonated by the building on the corner and amongst the debris on the road lay a crumpled figure; someone had been injured. The only noise was now coming from alarms set off by the explosion. The reaction of the patrol, now half in and half out of the base and us in the Ops room was of complete professionalism. A ‘contact’ call was received from the patrol, who were ordered to stay put and go hard. One of the patrol was down, unmoving and probably seriously injured, just right for a ‘come on’ tactic by the IRA to inflict even more causalities.

  It was quickly agreed that I would take the Saracen – in perpetual readiness, ie. machine gun mounted and half loaded – drive down to the corner by the square and recover the person on the road with the help of the patrol that was still outside the base. The ‘Sarry’ had a very good first aid pack so any bandaging up or dressing and cleaning of wounds could be done on the spot inside the armoured hull with the Browning for protection.

  As I drove slowly down the road towards the crumpled figure, I kept my driver’s hatch wide open so that my visibility was not further impaired by having to look through scopes. Because of the debris and position of the causality, I did not want to cause further problems. I passed the prone body and put the Saracen across the road, to cut the view from the square and to give cover for the lads in the back to render aid. It was quickly clear that no aid could be given and I could hear on the radio that it was James who had bought it and he was in a mess. No one had thought about a body bag and there was a little discussion on how to lift him into the back of the can and get him back to the base. Luckily because this Saracen was on constant standby, my full webbing was around the back of my driving seat, so my poncho was used to gently place him on and we covered him as best we could in order to get him back.

  I remember reversing up the road and thinking how the feck am I going to reverse this bloody thing back through the main gates as there was just about enough room to drive out and the mirrors on a Saracen were neither use nor ornament! As I was shutting down the vehicle, I could hear the commotion behind me as young James’ body was being removed from the back a large pool of blood had leaked through the poncho and pieces of the poor lad had fallen out onto the floor of the vehicle. I remember a couple of people gathering around the lifeless bundle on the floor; people running back and forth, shouting and orders being given. With no body bags available, it was decided to keep the remains in the poncho and to move it to the back of the accommodation hut. Along with another guy, we were placed each end of the hut with strict orders no one was to pass, and told that a chopper with a doctor was on its way along with the proper kit to remove the body. What I didn’t realise at the time, it was only a medical doctor that could pronounce a person dead, although he wouldn’t have too much of a problem in this case.

  It seemed a long time before a helicopter did arrive along with a doctor, two medics, a stretcher and a body bag. I stood four feet away and watched as the doctor pulled away the poncho and it was the first time I had seen the injuries and damage done to a person with whom I had been talking to and sitting next to, less than three hours ago. The doctor, I suspect, tried to look for signs of life, put the pieces back into position and lay James’ body out in order to place it into the body bag; within 15 minutes the helicopter was back, stretcher loaded and on its way.

  The mood that night and for the next few days was muted, and I do believe that the lads wanted something to happen in order to have some pay back; patrols were sent out deliberately to try and draw some response. My two Saracens were constantly out, fully armed and loaded, parked in the main square to see if they could get a reaction. But the cowards wouldn’t take us on face to face.

  A former Parachute Regiment soldier told the author:

  He was killed by an RCIED [remote controlled] in XMG when a parcel on the back of a bicycle was detonated by an IRA terrorist. He wasn’t suspicious as he knew the man to whom the bike belonged.’

  Tommy Clarke

  The Paras left XMG at the end of August to be replaced by 40 Commando; for me and ‘Chink’ it meant another quick learning curve not only in military ways but also in language. Toilets became heads; rubbish became gash; tabbing became yomping; even Saracens became Gunboats. So another two months to be spent with another elite mob and another case of having to prove ourselves, which I think we did even during the two mortar attacks that nearly destroyed the base, the second of which, came three days before Chink and I were due to pull out and return to Germany. That was my last tour in N. Ireland and I am only glad that apart from some bumps and bruises I am still alive today. RIP, James; never forgotten.

  JAMES BORUCKI

  Tony Clarke, Parachute Regiment

  I lost touch with everyone after leaving the army in 1978 after seven surgeries. I was medevac’d out of Crossmaglen on the 11th August – three days after James Borucki was killed – with severe internal bleeding; in fact I’d been bleeding internally for two months and it got to the point where I couldn’t function properly.

  On that fateful day, I sent out two patrols to clear the area because we had a helicopter pilot, some high-ranking officer who wanted to practice landing on the helipad/sports field. James Borucki’s patrol was on its way back in via the town square, something we rarely did in daylight. I was the platoon commander and Kenny Sergeant was my platoon Sergeant; Tug Wilson was the CSM and here is something he kindly wrote on a forum last year.

  Post:

  A.F.N. Clarke (‘Clarkie’) was the platoon commander of 1 Platoon, ‘A’ Company, 3 Para in XDG, when I was CSM; no matter what you may think of the programme, I can assure you he was one of the best young officers I had the pleasure to serve with. His first thought was always the safety and benefit of his men which he put before his own, whether on, or off operations. It was a sad loss to the regiment when his health was affected due to ground glass being put in his drink on a ‘hearts and minds’ patrol by some wanker in Northern Ireland. He would have gone on to bigger and better things within the regiment had he not had to leave due to the problems that were caused to his health. He was a soldier’s officer, along the lines of Colonel ‘Joe’ Starling and his men would follow him anywhere.

  Tony Clarke:

  I had always felt guilty about sending the patrol out, because I had an uneasy feeling and even asked the OC to make up an excuse as to why the chopper shouldn’t do these training runs. I guess you feel when things are about to go south in a hurry. Kenny, Tug and I stood over James’ body when Tom Clarke brought him back; a sad bundle in a body bag, for a moment’s silence. A month earlier, Snowdon was killed and Kenny had been blown up by a booby-trapped army torch left outside t
he front gate, not to mention the helicopter we had shot down by an RPG 7. It was a hard tour.

  The following e-mail is reproduced with thanks to Tony and Tom Clarke (no relation).

  Thank you, Tom Clarke, for bringing Borucki back in with all the horror which that experience left you with, and the danger of driving a Saracen out into the square. I had the job of talking to the patrol immediately afterwards in the standby room by the front gate, and sending them back out. I told them Borucki was dead. If you want to fall apart, cry, do it now, here, because in an hour you are back on patrol.

  I felt like a real shit for being so harsh, but I had to shake them out of the shock of seeing one of their mates killed, and the brutal reality of soldiering in NI was that there was no time to grieve. We had a job to do. I have never spoken of this since writing ‘Contact’ back in 1980 because unless you were there, which you, Tommy were, the full impact of a body, a friend, a young man blown apart, has no meaning.

  In 1977 when I was being transferred from Munster hospital, I shared an ambulance with a young RCT driver from Brize Norton to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital Woolwich. He had been burned while trying to get out of a Saracen that had been firebombed in Belfast and kept apologising to me for screaming every time the ambulance hit a bump. His courage was extraordinary and one typical of so many who were horribly killed and injured in NI.

  Once the most dangerous place in the world to be a British soldier - South Armagh. (Mark ‘C’)

  CROSSMAGLEN

  Gerry Evans, Royal Marines

  I was a member of ‘A’ Company, 40 Commando, Royal Marines in Crossmaglen, South Armagh, or XMG as we called it. I was the Int Corporal, and as such, was sent in early, before the bulk of the lads and whilst the Paras were still in occupation at the RUC Base there. I had arrived in Bessbrook Mill around Wednesday 4th August then by Wessex into XMG the next day Thursday 5th. Everyone had made us welcome as the advanced party, and over the next few days the handovers continued in the normal fashion.

  Ironically, I do recall the back gate of XMG which led primarily to the helicopter LZ was at times used by patrols as a way to vary routines. I was just standing there watching the patrol getting ready to go out when the CQMS began to give one of the patrol members a bollocking for having put a piece of masking tape onto a tear on one of his trousers legs instead of sewing it, only to learn later that it was a lad called James Borucki!! With the arrival of our main body due in a day or so, we had felt comfortable with our familiarization. I had struck up a good rapport with a lad called Lance Corporal Stu McLaughlin, who was very generous with the passing of his knowledge of the AO; sadly, in 1982 he was killed in action in the attack on Mount Longdon with 3 Para, during one of the bloodiest phases of the Falklands War.

  On that Sunday 8th August – it must have been between 1200-1400 – I was upstairs in the Main Building RUC Station, talking to an SAS sergeant. We had been chatting about XMG in general, for a while, when there was an almighty bang! We all ran downstairs to the Ops room to hear that there had been an IED in the square. The SAS lad went into the Ops room and I went into the Int room next door and was instructed to stay out of the way while others went about the task in hand.

  After a while it became clear that a multiple patrol had been attacked whilst returning from supervising some practice landing and were in the town square. It was a Sunday so it was fairly quiet and there weren’t many locals moving about. Using the tactic one foot on the ground and others moving Private Borucki was making his way to the corner of the junction of Crossmaglen Square and Cullaville Road, with the base being down the Cullaville Road some 15 metres or so. Young Borucki came around the corner where he had seen a bike belonging to one of the locals; having seen nothing suspicious, he took up his position. My understanding is that the device was inside the bike frame and not in parcel form and he was the first patrol member to pass it. At that point, the reminder of the patrol continued to move across the square when the bike exploded.

  The terrorist who triggered the device was across the square, over by Newry Road with a clear line of sight. The patrol leader, himself from Northern Ireland, and who later went on to join the RUC, took charge of the situation. As ‘Nobby’ Clarke wrote earlier, the Saracen went out to retrieve Private Borucki’s body which was later that afternoon put on a Wessex Helicopter and taken back to Bessbrook Mill. During the recovery, my understanding was that the Company Para Medic went out on foot to attend the casualty, however nothing could be done for Pte Borucki and that there were no other casualties from the RCIED.

  That is my recollection of that day, but just as an aside, the Para OC of XMG was a Major Thompson, who went on to Command 2 Para and was in command when the Warrenpoint massacre occurred. During that residential tour, the Battalion from Ballykinler lost some 25 all ranks.

  Somewhat forgotten in the events of this day, the UDR lost one of its officers in a fatal RTA in the Province. Lieutenant John Desmond Higgins (36) was killed in an accident but sadly, this author can provide no further details of this tragedy. The following day, the Province’s roads claimed the life of another member of the UDR – a ‘Greenfinch’ – when female soldier, Private Hilary Ann Gaynor (30) was killed in an RTA.

  On that day, 9 August, there was an unpleasant scene outside the North Belfast home of SDLP leader, Gerry Fitt, MP. The MP, who was a fierce critic of both the Army and the RUC, was not considered either fiery enough nor militant enough for the ‘Young Turks’ in the Provisionals, and the Republicans were very critical of his attitudes and actions or inaction as they perceived it. Mr Fitt lived on the Antrim Road in the Nationalist New Lodge area. An angry mob of Republican thugs tried to storm his house with bottles and bricks and he was forced to draw his personal protection weapon and threatened the mob with it. He stated that he had repeatedly called both the Army and the RUC and that their delayed arrival had almost cost him his life. The MP had been a savage critic of the Army and their methods and clearly was a not a supporter of the British military; it is not known if his constant complaints against them had any bearings on their delayed arrival to his home.

  The riots were likely to have been part of the commemoration of the fifth anniversary of internment without trial and there were riots and a spate of hijackings throughout the entire Province. Bus services to Nationalist areas of West Belfast were suspended and the M1 motorway was closed by rioting and the seizing and burning of vehicles. Barricades were set up all over Nationalist areas and each lorry or other vehicle which attempted to pass through was seized and set alight. Soldiers came under fire at a score of points throughout the North and in addition to the recent death of James Borucki several were wounded in different areas. There was a lucky escape in the Falls Road, when PIRA gunmen, using a hijacked bus as cover, fired a round which hit the muzzle guard of a soldier’s SLR and he and two others were struck in the eyes and face by metal fragments. Finally both of the RUC stations at New Barnsley and Springfield Road came under rifle fire but there were no injuries amongst the SF.

  On the 10th, one of the most seminal moments of the Troubles occurred in the Andersonstown area; there are those who place the blame on the Army and others – this author included – who lay the blame firmly and squarely at the door of the Provisional IRA. Whatever the cause and whoever is to blame, a family was destroyed, young children were taken violently and the Peace Movement was born.

  The author reprints below, verbatim and without comment, a report of the events of that day, taken from the website of the movement:

  Shortly after 2 p.m. on August 10th, 1976, an incident occurred in West Belfast, involving members of the IRA and British troops. A chase developed with soldiers in Land Rovers following a car driven by a young Republican, Danny Lennon, with a passenger on board. The car was speeding down Finaghy Road North when the pursuing soldiers opened fire. Danny Lennon was shot dead.

  On this bright, sunny afternoon, Anne (née Corrigan) Maguire was wheeling a pram along Finaghy Road North. In th
e pram was six-weeks-old Andrew. Alongside, on her bicycle, was Anne’s daughter Joanne, aged eight and a half, and her toddler son John, aged two and a half. A few yards further along was another son, seven-year-old Mark.

  Suddenly, the car containing the dead Danny Lennon and his comrade swerved crazily and crashed through the family group and into the railings of St. John the Baptist school. Joanne and Andrew were killed instantly. John, medically dead, was pronounced clinically dead in hospital the following day. Anne was severely injured, suffering leg and pelvic injuries, and brain bruising, and was unconscious for days. Her mind shattered, and haunted by images of the three children she never saw again, she finally took her own life 41 months later.

  When the wrecked car, pram and bicycle were removed, local residents set up a little shrine at the mangled railings, and neighbours held a prayer-walk through Riverdale (the estate in which the Corrigan [Maguire] family lived). To blame either the Republicans who initiated the chain of incidents resulting in the deaths, or the soldiers who had shot Danny Lennon as he drove through a heavily populated area in broad daylight, seemed almost profane: the core reaction of the community was one of pure anguish at the needless deaths.

  Over the next couple of days, chapels were packed for prayers, groups of people prayed spontaneously at the death site, and local women went from door to door with a petition for an end to the violence. All over Northern Ireland, plans were made for protests against the continuing violence. After her door had been knocked on by petitioning neighbours, a woman called Betty Williams rang a local newspaper, The Irish News, and talked to veteran reporter Tom Samways. She gave out her number asking that anyone who wished to contact her should do so. Meanwhile, Anne Maguire’s sister, Mairead Corrigan, having returned on the evening of August 10th from a holiday, accompanied her stricken brother-in-law Jackie Maguire to the hospital, for the formal identification of his dead children. Afterwards, she went down to the television studio and asked to go on the UTV programme in order to make an appeal for an end to violence. This appeal moved people around the world.’