by Harry Beaves
By now we were about as comfortable in Casement Park as we were going to be. 4th August had been a red letter day as bedsteads and mattresses had arrived and at last we were off camp beds.
We also had a delivery of 3” x 2” timber and rolls of hessian which we hoped would be used to partition our sleeping area, but with the many demands on the Sappers’ time it became a low priority so it was about six weeks before the task was eventually done using expertise from within the Battery. We did quite a good do-it-yourself job so that each troop had hessian walled sleeping areas for each section, with the Troop Commander and Troop Sgt sleeping in a fourth area.
British Army Public Information Leaflet that we put through all the doors in our area.
Weapons were unloaded when we entered the stadium and kept by our beds. Two magazines of ammunition were kept with our flak jackets. One troop would be on immediate standby, perhaps with one section out on patrol and the other two sections dressed and equipped, ready to go immediately. The second Troop would be on ten minutes’ notice, fully dressed but relaxing around the stadium. The final troop would be on two hours’ notice which meant they could be sleeping. We rotated round the system every four hours, but the degree of readiness was often nominal as, when the balloon went up, everyone piled out as quickly as possible, usually within five minutes.
Our intention was to dominate Riverdale with a continuous presence in the estate making it more difficult for the IRA to move around and conduct their activities. At the same time we were always gathering information and tried, whenever possible, to engage with the locals. Often they were hostile and sometimes they were afraid of being seen talking to the British. Occasionally in a quiet conversation we would be told that IRA members, although they claimed to be protecting the Catholic community, were not liked because of their bullying methods. Most members of the rifle troops undertook two patrols every day with each patrol lasting about two hours.
The Ops Room was continuously manned by an Ops Officer and a signaller who maintained a log of all activities throughout the day. We had three means of communication: Stornophone down to each rifle section and up to Regimental Ops, GPO telephone lines (as it was then), and the standard Larkspur military radio sets. A locally purchased intercom system connected the Ops Room to each of the rifle troops. Each Troop had a desk in the accommodation shared by the Troop Commander and Troop Sgt at which the duty man always sat.
The kitchen in Casement Park had been upgraded so that our three cooks could produce regular meals for the 120 members of the Battery. Meal times were set, but operational commitments meant that the duty chef was regularly cooking on demand. They did so without complaint and the quality of the food was always excellent.
We used the social club in the stadium as our recreational area. Around that time the Sun was running a ‘support the troops’ campaign raising money for the welfare of ‘our lads in Northern Ireland’. These were the days before videos and DVDs so we received books, board games and TVs, more TVs than we knew what to do with.
We had now been in Andersonstown for almost a month. Our apprenticeship was done in the bus depot under the constraints of the ‘no-go’ areas and we had built on the lessons learnt over that period. Since Motorman the gunmen had gone to ground or temporarily left the area. It was nine days since the barricades had been removed and the community was beginning to get used to the hugely increased military presence and to establish their own routines again. For us the nine days had largely involved dealing with riots and disorder, but things were about to change. Unnoticed by us, the gunmen and the bombers were returning to their patches and preparing to become active again. The shot fired at Ray Harrison on the 9th of August marked the start of a new phase of our deployment and for 28 Battery it meant that events were going to assume a much greater intensity.
Talking to two small children who had been throwing stones at one of our patrols. Picture 19 Regt.
Chapter 11
David Storrey and Bob Hope
At 0440 on 10th August all three rifle troops deployed to conduct a major lift-and-search operation on properties in Riverdale Gardens. David Storrey directed it personally, with 6 Troop providing the cordon, and it went without due incident, apart from the stone-throwing and abuse that had by now become routine. At some time mid-morning we heard a single rifle shot, but it was well away from us so we did not react.
During the operation Casement Park was empty, except for the Ops and Admin staff, but the Sappers were working on the perimeter fence, strengthening it, raising it and cladding it with corrugated iron sheets. The IRA were rumoured to have anti-tank rounds and the fence could detonate them before they came close to our accommodation. It would also be too high for the locals to throw stones or explosive devices over. Sapper Tom Tweedie was at the top of a ladder fixing the wire when the shot rang out.
It was fired from St Agnes Drive, the same area from which the sniper had fired at Ray Harrison the day before. Tweedie was hit in the neck and he fell to the ground. While I was writing this book I searched the internet to see if I could confirm the details, without expecting to find any results. To my surprise I discovered two pieces of information: one was Tom Tweedie’s obituary, the other a BBC report on the award of the Elizabeth Cross to his widow who had cared lovingly for him through the years. Tom Tweedie had survived, but was left severely paralysed and eventually discharged from the Army. His family moved to Buckinghamshire to be close to Stoke Mandeville Hospital where he received regular treatment. He was a much loved member of his old comrades association and an inspiration to those who met him. He died in 2008 from complications linked to the wounds sustained that day in Andersonstown in 1972.
Our lift-and-search operation on that day was routine. We arrested nine men, three of whom were sent to Castlereagh for further questioning. On completion the BC led the Battery back to Casement Park on foot. Perhaps because of Sapper Tweedie’s shooting he chose not to use the main gate. Instead he led us between 46 and 48 Riverdale Park East across the stream, through the garden of 23 Owenvarragh Park, then in through the side gate of the stadium. The stream was the same one that ran under the M1 that had given us access for the lay-up operation earlier in our tour on 22nd July. (See Chapter 8.)
Once back inside the stadium, we relaxed. That afternoon I sat quietly chatting with Ray Harrison, mulling over events of the past few days. I mentioned that I wasn’t happy about the whole Battery coming back across that stream and through the gardens of Owenvarragh Park. We had always treated this as a ‘discreet’ route in and out which we only used occasionally and we didn’t want to draw attention to it. Using this route, you were vulnerable as it was narrow and crossed open wasteland and we both felt that bringing the whole Battery along it had compromised its further use. We decided to instruct patrols from our troops not to use it until further notice.
The perimeter fence had still to be completed, but it was considered too risky for the Sappers to undertake the task during the busy part of the day. Instead they began working at first light, about 0400, under the protection of a screen of troops from the Battery. Andersonstown Road was the boundary between 28 Battery’s area of responsibility and 2RGJ’s. St Agnes Drive was on 2RGJ’s side so sniper attacks on 28 Battery from that area was a clever tactic as we could only follow up in hot pursuit, and then only with considerable care in order to avoid ‘blue on blue’ contacts. While the Sappers were working on our fence we had been given permission to deploy the protective screen just inside 2RGJ area so on 12th August I took the opportunity to look more closely at St Agnes Drive. The garden of number 19A was uncared for and the whole building looked rundown and uninhabited, but my curiosity was aroused by a shiny new Yale lock on the door. I went round the back and gently pulled away a board covering one of the downstairs windows. The room inside was clean and tidy and I was surprised to see what looked like a working telephone, a bottle of fresh milk and a tidily-made bed.
I called the BC on the radio. He came ou
t and together we cautiously climbed through the window. Under the blankets on the bed were plastic hospital sheets, more were found in a cupboard together with a portable gas stove for sterilising instruments. We forced a cupboard open and found assorted medical equipment together with a quantity of controlled drugs.
Many or the items could be used for general medical purposes, but were more suitable for dental use. This was in line with the fact that the last registered owner of the property was, a local dentist who was (and still is) very well known in GAA circles. It confirmed our long-held belief that he was an active Republican sympathiser. What we had discovered was the local IRA first-aid post which would have been used, most often, to treat those injured in riots against us. Had they gone to a general hospital in Belfast, their injuries might have been identified as caused by the military in which case they ran the risk of being reported to the police and questioned.
On 13th August there was an incident which at the time was very minor, but had a significant bearing on events that were to take place the following day. Two shots were fired at the sentry in the top of the stand in Casement Park from the area of Riverdale Park East. I was on immediate standby and was ready to crash out with a section of soldiers, but ‘Ops’ held me back as Bdr Tolson was already patrolling in Riverdale, so he was tasked to investigate and we were kept ready to assist. By the time Tolson arrived on the scene the trail was cold and there were no signs so, in due course, he returned to the stadium.
By now the Sappers were busy on the western perimeter fence of the stadium so the screen was moved round to cover that side. At 0400 on 14th August Sgt Escreet with two sections set up a cordon in the gardens of the houses in Owenvarragh Park, watching for sniper activity from the area of Riverdale Park East. I had been with them and, out of curiosity, decided to look at the path that led over the stream and into Riverdale. As I stood on the bank of the stream I noticed that the long grass on the other side had been cut and lay flat on the ground. Why? I was uncomfortable so went no further.
Because the cordon was only just outside the stadium, we ran a rolling system that allowed two soldiers at a time to go back for breakfast. At about 0900, as I was returning to the stadium for breakfast, I met David Storrey and his escort, Craftsman Hope, who were going out to visit Sgt Escreet and his men. Cfn Brian Hope, known to everyone as ‘Bob’ was a vehicle mechanic in the REME, part of the battery’s Fitter Section whose task it was to keep our vehicles fully serviceable. Irrespective of their specialist task, in Belfast every member of the Battery had to aim a weapon when the need arose. In Bob Hope’s case his supplementary role was as BC’s bodyguard which meant that whenever David Storrey stepped out of the stadium he could concentrate on the immediate task while Bob Hope was by his side watching for any threat or danger.
I was drinking tea in the kitchen when there was an almighty crump and the sound of shattering glass. A pall of smoke hung over the rear of Owenvarragh Park as I rushed back out to the cordon where I met Sgt Escreet. A bomb had exploded between the stream and Riverdale Park East. He had found a crater about thirty inches round and two feet deep, but he could not find the BC or Bob Hope, nor could we raise them on the radio. While Sgt Escreet searched further up the river I ran down to the scene of the explosion.
I stepped down into the stream and climbed up the opposite bank. There was an unreal feeling about the place, with smoke hanging in the still air. Around the crater the grass was blown flat and everything was covered in mud, but I could see no one and I didn’t recognise the debris that covered the scene. The windows of the houses were shattered and the shocked residents were in their gardens, wondering what had happened.
I felt very vulnerable and stepped back down into the stream bed. The smell of explosives was mixed with the rank smell of river water. The gully was covered with briars and scrubby bushes, all of which seemed to be the same grey-green colour from the mud of the explosion. But for the gurgling of the stream it was strangely silent. I looked around me and slowly became aware of a strange and unusual noise that I didn’t recognise. I was looking but couldn’t see what I was staring at. Or rather I didn’t want to see it. I was staring at a shiny object, an Army jack knife, David Storrey’s Army jack knife, the one he carried attached to his webbing in a manner unlike any one else I knew. As I stared at the jack knife I could see that it was still attached to the webbing, all the same grey-green colour as the river mud, hidden against the stream bed and the undergrowth and I realised I was looking at David Storrey, huddled under the bank. His laboured breathing was the unusual noise that I had heard, so he was still alive, but I noticed orange blood washing downstream from a wound that I could not see. I ran back to the stadium shouting for the medics.
The medical orderlies laid David Storrey on a stretcher and rushed him to MPH, but he died before he could be operated on. Bob Hope’s shattered body was found on the other side of the bomb crater.
The bomb had been made from a milk churn packed with 30-40lbs of nitrobenzene and sodium chlorate mixture, a homemade explosive known as ‘Coop sugar’ because it was first used by the IRA against a store owned by the Belfast Co-operative Society. Large nuts and bolts were packed around the explosive to give a shrapnel effect known locally as ‘dockyard confetti’. The device had been dug about two feet into the ground and was probably detonated electronically by wire. We subsequently received a report that two men and a girl with long red hair had been in the area of the electricity substation between 46 and 48 Riverdale Park East shortly before the explosion. The shots fired at the sentry in the stand in Casement Park on the evening before had been a ‘come on’, intended to make us send a response team out of the stadium and across the stream to investigate. At the time I had been on immediate standby and would have done just that and run in to the bomb, but for the fact that Bdr Tolson was already in the estate so was tasked to investigate.
David Storrey and Bob Hope had gone down to the crossing that Ray Harrison and I had discussed as ‘dangerous’. They had probably looked over the stream and been curious about the way that the grass and soil had been disturbed on the other side. It is likely that Bob Hope had gone past the bomb when it was detonated and had been killed instantly. David Storrey had probably just stepped out of the stream bed. The flak jacket he wore was made in three parts with each of the two front panels connected to the back panel with a lacing system which ran up to the arm pit. Shrapnel had struck David Storey along the line of one of the laces that joined the panels and had entered his chest.
We flooded the area with troops, eager for any clues about the bomb. Most of the local people were horrified and their houses were badly damaged, but they were too frightened to express sympathy in case their views were passed back to the IRA who might see fit to exact retribution. All of them were angry and upset that a bomb had been laid in an area where their children often played.
We returned to the stadium with the shock of the terrible loss of our comrades slowly sinking in. That afternoon Roger Cook ordered every available member of the Battery into Riverdale. In hindsight this was probably the wrong thing to do. The bombers had almost certainly long since left the area, our emotions were raw and we were in the wrong state of mind to patrol with any sense of reason. We were angry and upset, but frustrated and impotent as there was no properly identifiable target to go out and attack. That wasn’t going to deter me as I was hell bent on trouble and if there was none, then we were going to make it.
A group of young people followed us throwing stones and blast bombs and jeering. All the while they stayed just out of range of our rubber bullets. Eventually we cornered one youth who we recognised as a known sympathiser and I smashed him against a wall demanding to know who had planted the bomb. The crowd of stone-throwers quickly became much bigger and we were forced to withdraw, firing rubber and leap-frogging back along Riverdale Park South with a huge angry crowd in pursuit. Suddenly we were in big trouble and realised from the size of the crowd that we had bitten off too much,
but fortunately Captain David Isaac and 5 Troop arrived from behind and baled us out. We returned to the stadium with the satisfaction of having had a darned good scrap, but, in so doing, we probably lost some of the sympathy in the local community that we had gained after the bomb.
While we were out, David Storrey and Bob Hope’s belongings were discreetly packed away and removed from Casement Park, and at 2230 Major Bertie Whitmore, the second-in-command of 19 Regiment, temporarily assumed command of 28 Battery.
Chapter 12
Fred Basset Patrols
On 16th August Lt Don MacLaren with 10 Troop (19 Regiment’s Reserve Troop) were called to an explosion in Riverdale Park South. There was considerable confusion at the scene where it appeared a youth named Seamus Thompson had seriously injured his hand and been rushed to the Royal Victoria Hospital in a private car by a friend. We later discovered that Thompson, who was on our wanted list as the Explosives Officer of E Company, had been holding a blast bomb when it exploded and had lost his right arm below the elbow and his right eye. Own goals like that always pleased us. It was thought that Tommy Gorman, Commander of E Company, had been with him, another indication that the IRA had begun raising their levels of activity since ‘Motorman’.
That evening we dropped leaflets through every letter box reminding residents of the danger that the bombings and shootings posed to all members of the community and appealing for information on a confidential phone line. The letter was reproduced in the Belfast Morning News with a surprisingly good response, perhaps because of the depth of revulsion felt locally after the deaths of David Storrey and Bob Hope. We were told Tommy Gorman was responsible for the bomb that had killed them and that before the explosion two men and a girl with long red hair were seen hanging around Riverdale Park East. We received sufficient information on other suspects to plan a lift-and-search operation for dawn on 18th August, but it was postponed after questioning an IRA Volunteer arrested the night before. He had been picked up on a foot patrol that I had taken out using an informer known by the nickname ‘Fred Basset’.