The British Army in Northern Ireland 1975-77

by Ken Wharton

  At around the same time, during a rainstorm in Lurgan, North Armagh, a four-man UDR foot patrol was ambushed in the town centre by PIRA gunmen, one of whom was firing an American-supplied Armalite. Several shots rang out and two of the soldiers slumped to the ground; one of whom was mortally wounded. One of the soldiers aged 19 was wounded but later recovered in hospital; however Private George Lutton (41) was mortally wounded and died at the scene. A Sinn Fein spokesman warned of further attacks on the UDR, irrespective of whether or not they were on duty and again accused them of collusion with Loyalist paramilitaries. Private Lutton is buried at Armagh Cemetery in Lurgan.

  Just as the Republicans were quick to point the finger of collusion at the British Army, so the soldiers were equally convinced of the connivance between certain sections of the Roman Catholic Church and the IRA. A recent article in the esteemed Belfast Telegraph (1 September, 2012) had the following to say:

  A former papal nuncio to Ireland maintained a close relationship with senior Provisional IRA figures and lobbied the Irish government on their behalf throughout the 1970s and 80s. Sean Donlon, the retired Secretary General of the Republic’s Department of Foreign Affairs, has revealed that Taoisigh Jack Lynch, Liam Cosgrave and Garret FitzGerald “had problems” with Archbishop Gaetano Alibrandi’s “close relationship with prominent Provos”. The former Irish Ambassador to Washington said of the Sicilian prelate: “For a man who spent 20 years in Ireland, he seemed to pick up little feeling for what was happening.”

  Speaking to the Irish Independent, Mr Donlon also suggested there were priests in the Irish church “who had some feeling the Provos had a justification for what they were doing”. “It is a matter of public knowledge that there were a small number of priests in Northern Ireland who were probably even involved with the IRA”, he said.

  On the 16th, a Catholic was shot dead by a lone Republican gunman on the Falls Road. James Duffy (48) was delivering to a butcher’s shop and was chatting to his workmate when he was shot in the back of the head. He was from the Ormeau Road area and it is thought that he was confused with another delivery driver who was a Protestant. The Provisionals predictably failed to claim responsibility for the murder. Mr Duffy died a short while later in the nearby RVH. There were the usual series of bombing attacks up and down the Province and the Army’s EOD managed to defuse a large device packed in with several dozen gas cylinders in a hijacked lorry which was left outside an RUC HQ in High Street, Belfast.

  On the 18th, having stalked him for several weeks, the Provisionals killed another off-duty UDR soldier. Corporal William Kidd (37), father of three, was employed by Londonderry City Housing Executive as a foreman. On the day of his murder, he was supervising building work in Trench Street, in the Waterside area of Londonderry city. He had been discussing work matters with colleagues and had just stepped outside a workman’s hut when two masked gunmen shot him at absolutely point-blank range; the gunmen escaped in the direction of the Nationalist Bogside. The part-time soldier died at the scene. Almost simultaneously, another PIRA gang, this time 70 miles or so south in Newtownabbey, north of Belfast, attacked the home of another off-duty UDR soldier. Several shots were fired into the home of the soldier but all the rounds missed him. Slightly further to the south, the IRA fired several shots at an off-duty RUC officer as he sat in his car outside Springfield Road police station.

  A LUCKY BREAK FOR A PAIR OF TEENS

  Jeff, Royal Artillery

  One of the terms we used – ‘Door Stepping Incidents’ – was a direct reference to the targeting of sectarian murders by both sides, but especially Loyalists on Catholics. Those houses with glassed or windowed doors were especially vulnerable to an attack by a murder gang. Some of the killings were Int-inspired and the gangs would know where and why they would be going to a particular house. However, some were purely random and once a target house had been chosen, they would ring the doorbell and if a male approached to answer, he would be fired on through the door.

  This was particularly prevalent in our new area. Anyway, one night, I was doing my thing, in a Republican area and the street lighting was little or none. Suddenly, I saw two men in parkas and hoods walking in my direction. They approached a well-lit front door and I immediately put the patrol down in ‘hard mode.’ Naturally, I ‘yellow carded’ them, but received no response, and instead they just walked away before breaking into a trot. I made one final shout, and then took my safety off. For some reason, I hesitated, and then shouted again, but this time in a much louder, much more threatening manner. This time they stopped and turned towards me; at this stage, I realised that one of them was hugging something bulky underneath his parka.

  I ordered them to remain perfectly still, or I would fire and they did so. I approached them with caution, keeping my SLR trained on them. I then could see that they were two teens, one of whom was female. They revealed the ‘bulk’ as a transistor radio/cassette player and the female explained that they were calling on a mate’s house in order to play some music; they were well scared by this time.

  I gave ‘em a huge ‘gypsies warning’ before searching them and then sending them on their way. I have to admit that I came close to firing, but now all these years later, I still think that the discipline instilled in our units and being given the responsibility to think and make own decisions, made a difference that night. Other armies in the world I am not so sure about; if it had been the US marines, two innocent teens would have lain dead on the sidewalk.

  On the 22nd, Gunner Maurice Murphy (26) from Lancashire who had been fatally wounded near Flax Street Mill, Ardoyne, the previous month, died from those wounds [see previous chapter]. His fellow Gunner, Anthony Abbott who was shot in the same ambush, died shortly after reaching hospital on 24 October. On the same day, Loyalist paramilitaries – likely to have been the UVF – attempted to murder a 22-year old Catholic at his house in Colinview Street, Belfast just off the Springfield Road. They succeeded in wounding him before shooting his 48-year old mother in the back and then escaping; both recovered in hospital.

  The Provisionals continued their tactic of attacking prison officers and barged their way into an officer’s home in Maghera, Co Londonderry. Two gunmen knocked at the front door of the house in Craighadick Park, and when the officer’s wife answered, pushed past her and shot her husband in his chest and stomach, badly wounding him. An attempt was later made on another officer, three days later, when PIRA gunmen ventured into the heart of Loyalist territory. They walked up to a house in Mountainview Gardens, off the Crumlin Road and opened fire through a window on a 51-year old officer. The shots narrowly missed, but with two attacks in 72 hours, their tactics meant that all prison employees needed now to be permanently on guard. The Barnsley MP and Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Roy Mason made a speech in the Commons which inflamed the IRA on the same day as the attack on the prison officer. He stated: ‘Terrorists have no regard for life! Ulster’s bombers and gunmen will be treated as common criminals and will not be given any special status once they are behind bars.’

  The lethal game of tit-for-tat which characterised many of the sectarian murders, and in some perverse and perverted way, provided self-justification for the murder gangs, was again in evidence as the UFF ‘retaliated’ for the earlier death of a UDR man. John Toland (35) and a father of seven children was a manager of the Happy Landings Bar in Eglinton, close to the airport in Londonderry. As a known Catholic in a predominantly Protestant area, he was an obvious target for the Loyalists, despite the fact that he had no paramilitary connections with Republicans. By this stage in the conflict, it was a case of ‘any Catholic will do’ although the Loyalist mindset recognised every Catholic as an IRA supporter and failed to draw any distinctions. Masked UFF gunmen entered the bar where Mr Toland was working and shot him from point-blank range and he died instantly. The Loyalist ‘heroes’ who murdered the father of seven were later identified and convicted and it was revealed that they were a gang of thugs who tortured an
d terrorised elderly, frail and defenceless people in the area.

  The pattern of retaliatory killings continued on the 23rd, when PIRA gunmen shot and killed Joseph Glover (60) a Protestant businessman at his office in Crawford Street, Londonderry. He was a former President of the Londonderry Chamber of Commerce and was running a timber merchants in the city. His killers shot him a total of nine times and he died en-route for hospital. On the same day, demonstrating that they were more common criminals than ‘urban guerrillas’, an INLA unit was in the process of robbing a post office on the Turf Lodge in Belfast, when a routine foot patrol of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers disturbed them. The patrol was on Ardmonagh Gardens when an INLA lookout panicked and fired a shot which hit Fusilier Andrew Crocker (18) in the throat and he died instantly. The INLA gang aborted the robbery and ran off into the Turf Lodge – a sprawling urban estate, but more importantly, their own Nationalist area – where they attempted to disappear. However, they were under observation from an Army helicopter and their location in Monagh Drive was radioed to another foot patrol on the ‘Lodge and the gang were immediately arrested. The murder was initially claimed by the Provisionals, who somewhat sanctimoniously claimed that it was a reprisal for the killing by the Army of Leo Norney and Brian Stewart [see chapters 9 and 21 respectively]. A spokesman for the IRSP/INLA later denied the PIRA claim and admitted responsibility themselves. The dead soldier was from the Swansea area of South Wales and his funeral took place at Morriston.

  The view ‘one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter’ has often been expressed to the author, generally by people with no knowledge whatsoever of the subject. For the naïve, there is a great tendency to associate the IRA with the heroic French Maquis, the Dutch Underground, the Polish Home Army and the other wartime resistance groups. For the Loyalists, the association applies to the UVF, UFF, Red Hand Commandos, et al. This romanticism, this blinkered view of thugs who will kill for one reason and one reason only: that of furthering their own narrow ends, results in unconditional and blind support for the paramilitary thugs who came within a whisker of destroying a country. It is this same, misguided and romantic view which saw millions of US dollars donated in NORAID collection tins throughout a myriad number of Irish bars and St Patrick’s clubs by thousands of naïve Irish-Americans which prolonged the bloody course of the Troubles. Add to this money collected by the Protestants and one can see the tragedy of comparing the paramilitaries to those who struggled to free their countries from the tyranny of Nazi occupation.

  Riot at Castle Street, close to Divis Flats. (Mark ‘C’)

  CONTACT: ALBERT BRIDGE

  Michael Sangster, Royal Artillery

  This incident happened in Belfast near the end of November 1976, and I’ll start at the beginning as it shows how the hand of fate can affect your life. I was a section commander in an independent Royal Artillery Battery, which meant that we got a good look at all the ‘interesting’ areas of that fair city; places such as Ballymurphy, Springfield, Ardoyne, New Lodge, the City Centre segments and the Markets. On the day in question, we were attached to 49 Regiment RA, which had responsibility for the city and Markets area. Our job was anti-bomb patrols in the outer streets that led to the segment checkpoints.

  Based at the Grand Central Hotel (GCH), we split into four-man bricks and my lot was given Castle Street. As I was about to leave, the BTF officer, Captain ‘Fab’, as we called him, took me to one side. He told me that at the top of Castle Street where it became Divis Street, there was a Republican black taxi rank. Apparently, the policy of the CO of the city regiment was that the taxis were not to be searched at the rank. Certain people at HQNI, Lisburn didn’t like that and it was suggested that the Captain take advantage of our independent role and do something about it. We gave it an hour or so for trade to build up, patrolling as normal, checking all the obvious places for bombs as you did in those days; then about 1100hrs, my merry group started on the taxi rank. The locals didn’t appreciate this much and started complaining in the usual way. Then this character appeared, and told us that he was the chairman of the Falls Taxi Association. He tried to tell me I had no right to search ‘his’ taxis. I did try the polite way first, but as he kept shouting his mouth off, I grabbed a handful of shirt and told him to ‘….go away!’

  That set them off, and just adjacent to the taxi rank, there was a vegetable stall and within about two minutes, his entire stock had winged its way in our direction. We beat a hasty retreat out of range. Job done, I thought. Alas, our actions had not gone unheeded. That tosser from the taxi association had only gone and complained to the RUC who had passed it on to the ‘brass’ at the GCH. The bottom line was that we were replaced by another brick and we got to finish our stag bag searching inside the segments. I also got a summons to call sign 2’s ops room when our shift was over.

  Our stag finished at 1500hrs and I was on my way to the ops room for, no doubt, a good blistering when I bumped into Captain ‘Fab,’ who told me not to bother as he had straightened it out. But (and there is always a but) because of our naughtiness, we had been given another task for that night and my happy band had drawn the short straw. I was told to see the Int officer who would give me the details. Apparently, word had come down that the local boyos were going to bomb the Albert Bridge train station that night just as it was about to close down at 2100hrs. My job was simple; stop it from happening.

  I got together with the Int NCO and we decided that the best approach route was by walking up the railway lines and entering the station from the platform. With only four blokes it was going to be awkward but I thought that by leaving two near the platform, one in the ticket office and myself in the manager’s office we had it covered. I tried to get another radio from the ops room but was told none were available. Charming, I thought. I had my BTF radio which could reach our base at Carnmoney at a stretch and I was told that I could get a Pye set from the mission base in the Markets, which was to be our start point. At about 16:30hours, we tabbed it over to the Mission for a bit of scoff. I managed to get them to part with a radio which was tuned to the GCH frequency and when it was properly dark, we made our way to the railway line and reached the station shortly afterwards. I told the manager what we were about and his only reaction was to put the kettle on for a brew. Approaching 2100 hours, it was obvious that this was going to be another dud. The last passenger train left and the station staff locked the gates and were ready to leave. They were to be picked up by a goods train in about five minutes. We were directed to a set of stairs which lead back onto the bridge and bade goodnight.

  As we got to the top of the stairs, we emerged into the thickest Belfast fog I had ever seen; you couldn’t see ten yards either way. What was worse, to my embarrassment, I was slightly disoriented and neither of us could figure out which way it was to the city. No harm done I thought; let’s go right. When we get to the end of the bridge, we’ll soon know if we are wrong and merely about turn. So off we toddled, two on each side of the road. After about a minute or so, I got this sneaky feeling that I had chosen wrong but decided to carry on anyway. As we approached the end of the bridge, I passed a bus shelter. The fog literally disappeared and just to help things along, there was a bright moon which lit up this big sign on the wall opposite the junction which read Short Strand [A notorious and fiercely Republican enclave in East Belfast, hemmed in on all four sides by Loyalists]. Stupid Scots idiot; got it wrong again; about turn lads.

  I told my rear man to go firm and I would pass him. Just as I got level with him, because of the bus shelter, I stepped onto the road. As I did so, I heard this dull ‘crack’ and at the same time I felt this funny sensation of heat going past my head. Another ‘crack’ from behind me and I spun around just in time to see a bright spark from a third shot which lit up a figure in the shadows of the alleyway which led off the Short Strand about 30 metres away. Just to confirm it, he fired another two quick shots which went God knows where. It’s never ceased to amaze me that each time this
has happened to me, the training kicks in. Cock, sight, then one round standing, one round kneeling and over he went. Result! I stood up and moved to the road junction and the words ‘Follow up!’ only got half out of my mouth when it sounded like someone was repeatedly cracking a bullwhip about two inches either side of my head.

  Oh boy, I’m in trouble and nowhere to go but down. Those bastards had me cold. Have you ever tried digging into tarmac with your chin? I’m sure I tried that night. It sounded like two high velocity weapons from different positions and they weren’t missing by much. I could only hear the whip cracks and no bangs so I knew they were near and I was the target. I was screaming blue murder at my other lads to get those fuckers off me and after what seemed forever, I heard the loud bangs of the good old SLR coming from my left. I took the chance and got up and legged it to the parapet of the left side of the bridge.