by Harry Beaves
‘Look at that, dad. Scratch marks on the paintwork, boot catch missing, boot’s been forced open. It’s probably stolen.’ In my mind I was ready to give this suspicious vehicle a wide berth.
My father stopped, surprised by an observation that he, as a beat policeman of many years’ standing, might have been expected to make. ‘So what, what makes you say that?’ This was a test.
‘You can break into a car quite easily and it’s not too difficult to ‘hot wire’ it and drive it away, but you need the key to get into the boot. Chances are, a car with marks where a boot catch has been forced has been stolen. In Ireland that would have a bomb in it. Shall we cross over?’
I am sure my father had been aware of the strain that I was under from the moment he met me off the plane, though he would never have said anything. That car had shown clearly that my mind was stuck in the world of counter-terrorism and it gave my father a far greater understanding of what I had been doing, how it was affecting me and how difficult it was to switch off. From that incident I believe he could see in me similar stresses to those he and his comrades had experienced while fighting in Burma.
The following night I went out again with my father rather than my friends. Our relationship had changed dramatically with a new unspoken understanding of what he had been through and what I was experiencing at the time. It is easy to suggest that civilians have no concept of what the soldier goes through, but it’s perhaps more accurate to say that a soldier is only truly understood by other soldiers as there are no words to describe the fear and horror of active service. Today I have a similar unspoken understanding with my nephew Ed who served with the Royal Marines in Afghanistan.
My father drove me back to Southampton Airport the next day, looked me in the eye and, with the old familiar manly handshake and slap on the shoulder, wished me ‘All the best’. Suddenly that simple gesture conveyed a huge understanding with a new and far deeper meaning.
* * *
I had enjoyed my time at home very much, but, with the thought of having to return to the dangers of Riverdale, I had never really been able to relax. Back in Casement Park my anxieties were as sharp as ever. I was acutely aware of the dangers around me and, with Murphy seeming always to use me to prove his ‘law’, I was wary that my luck might finally run out. It was vital not to lose concentration, but we were well past the halfway point in our tour we were all eager to get back to Germany.
Things were still noticeably quieter but all too soon I was back in the thick of it as we were now picking up tasks in support of 25 Battery and regularly sent soldiers as part of the contingent on Op Segment in Belfast city centre. It seemed as though Belfast was ‘under siege’ as huge ugly bollards and barriers prevented parking anywhere in the city for fear of car bombs, while the shopping areas were divided into ‘segments’, the end of each street blocked by armed soldiers who searched everyone’s shopping bags.
We also deployed to Lisburn to counter the threat of the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) and other Protestant paramilitaries. Lisburn was a mainly Protestant city and was always considered one of the safer, more stable parts of the province. Over the previous weeks threats by the Protestants against the Catholic communities had increased and on 17th October, while I was at home, a large number of Catholic-owned shops in Lisburn were attacked and wrecked. 25 Battery had been heavily involved and we were now frequently stood-by to support them. The knock-on effect for us was that the atmosphere around Riverdale had become noticeably tenser as Protestant violence made it easier for the IRA to convince the local community that they should be protecting them which, in turn, frustrated our efforts to win the confidence of the Catholic community.
The UDA were on the streets of Lisburn and were less of a threat than the IRA, so we adopted a lower profile and deployed in soft-skinned vehicles to investigate. It was evening and the task of the thirty men of 6 Troop was to observe and report and avoid confrontation unless the UDA were breaking the law. We arrived to find a hundred or more men in combat clothing and berets, faces masked, often with an orange scarf, carrying batons and clubs; some had radios. They were standing in groups of three in shop doorways all around the city centre. We stopped and stood beside our vehicles, staring at the UDA in a stand-off. We were out-numbered by more than three to one and tension was mounting, so I called Gnr Collins to my side. ‘Shiner’ Collins was the biggest lad in the Troop and in downtown Dortmund was reputed to be able to start a fight in an empty bar.
With Collins inches from my shoulder I strode up to the nearest UDA man and asked. ‘Who’s in charge?’
He pointed to a group standing apart. We crossed the road and walked up to them with the eyes of all parties following us nervously. I was incensed by the cocksure arrogance of them all. ‘Who’s in charge?’ I asked again, as politely as I could manage.
‘I am.’ The reply came from a man who, behind his mask, was probably middle-aged, and who wore his beret and combat suit with a neatness that suggested that he had learnt how to do so in the British armed forces.
‘What are you all doing here?’
‘We are protecting the Protestant people of Lisburn from attack by the IRA like all good citizens should.’
‘That’s my job.’ I replied. ‘I’d like you to disperse quietly.’
‘I’ll see,’ he said and walked away to talk to his men. I walked back to the security of the Troop and turned and stared. Section commanders called the UDA to attention and they marched away into the darkened streets. When half an hour later we drove round in our vehicles the streets were empty and an hour later we drove back to MPH to make our report. There was a huge sense of relief, but the whole evening had been frustrating and intensely annoying. Somehow I had more respect for the IRA in their political struggle than I did for these smug self-righteous individuals. They claimed to be loyal to the same Queen and British Government as I was, but were really fanning the flames of the Troubles with their bigotry.
On 24th October we received a very unusual invitation to send a group of soldiers to Stormont, home of the suspended Irish Parliament, for drinks with William Whitelaw, members of the Northern Ireland Office and the HQ Northern Ireland Military Staff. It was a remarkable initiative on the part of Mr Whitelaw intended to gauge the feeling of the soldiers on the ground and give them the opportunity to ask questions of those in charge. We rolled towards the imposing front steps of Stormont in an Army minibus and were ushered into a huge room hung with chandeliers and with portraits of famous figures on the walls.
It was a most improbable gathering. In all there were about a couple of hundred of us, drawn from military units in the province, dressed in our cleanest combat kit, in these magnificent surroundings. Waiters served glasses of beer from trays and Mr Whitelaw and his staff moved effortlessly from group to group talking easily to everyone. ‘And where are you chaps from?’ He asked.
‘Casement Park, sir.’
‘Well, you’ve had a very difficult time. How is it going?’ Mr Whitelaw had served with distinction in the Second World War, quite plainly understood what made soldiers tick and was instantly able to put them at ease as the conversation continued, but putting a soldier too much at ease is a dangerous practice as it gives him the confidence to ask difficult questions. The next thing I heard was.
‘Sir, why did you warn everyone we were coming, just before Motorman? We were looking forward to getting in and having a good go at them.’
Today, politicians are known for never answering a question directly, but Whitelaw took it head on. ‘It was a huge operation and there were likely to be a lot of civilians on the streets protesting. If the gunmen came out, there would have been a lot of casualties on both sides. Better to clear the barricades and let folks like you get in and set up and then take on the IRA when you are ready.’
Ten points to William Whitelaw.
‘Sir, we’ve been up in Lisburn these last few nights and the UDA have been out on the streets in uniforms with masks and clubs an
d we just let them do it. How do we explain that to our people in Andersonstown? If the IRA did it we’d run them in.’
He faced the second question with a similarly straight bat. ‘I’m afraid at the moment we have only enough troops to take on the IRA; we couldn’t cope with the UDA at the same time. Rest assured, when we get on top of the IRA we will deal with them.’
We returned to Casement Park at about 8.30pm after a very enlightening evening. Even now the media like to perpetuate the image of the Army as ‘lions led by donkeys’. From our experience that evening our small group had the positive impression that the man in charge had a clear idea of what needed to be done and also had our wellbeing at heart.
27th October was my twenty-fifth birthday and I was given a real treat. I took several members of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers (KOSB) out on a familiarisation patrol. This was a particular pleasure because they were over on reconnaissance in preparation for when the KOSB took over from us in November. Now the end of our tour was really beginning to come into sight.
30th October was an unusual day with Riverdale busier than normal. During the afternoon I took a patrol out and several times noticed groups of youths behaving suspiciously. I stopped two youths named Brown and O’Connell. Brown was a known member of the Fianna, but was not wanted. O’Connell’s address didn’t check out so we decided to lift him. As we were waiting for a vehicle the crowd became increasingly angry, screaming that we were arresting the ‘young and innocent’. When Bdr Ingram of 4 Troop arrived with a Saracen a crowd of women, led by our old friend Betty Clarke of 59 Riverdale Park Drive, tried to drag him away from our grasp.
Bdr Ingram and his team eventually left with O’Connell and we began to move back to Casement Park. As we did so we were pelted with bottles and stones by the children, led by Geraldine Storey of 31 Riverdale Park South. The barrage was incessant and it was particularly frustrating that we could not fire rubber or do anything more positive about the rioters because of their age.
At 1900 I went back into the estate and arrested Betty Clarke, for obstructing the security forces in the execution of their duty, and Geraldine Storey, who was only thirteen years old, for inciting a riot. This was the first time we had arrested people for this type of offence – normally we simply took them in for questioning – and we very much hoped that it would have a stronger deterrent effect. Later the same evening a group of women and children assembled at the gate chanting and shouting abuse. Three of them were allowed in to come and express their concerns to the BC.
At first we could not understand why there had been such a strong reaction to our apprehension of O’Connell and thought it was just an attempt to make us look bad for arresting women and young people, but we subsequently discovered that O’Connell had recently been made Company Commander of the Fianna in Riverdale and that Geraldine Storey was an active member. On 16th January 1973 Betty Clarke appeared before the court and was fined £30 and bound over to keep the peace. On the same day Geraldine Storey appeared at Juvenile Court and was bound over to keep the peace for two years.
Betty Clarke was a person who had regularly caused us trouble. It was in her house, 59 Riverdale Park Drive, that Tommy Gorman had been arrested (Chapter 15), she had been in 25 Riverdale Park South when we had discovered the bomb (Chapter 16) and was invariably present when there was any sort of disorder in the estate. The IRA rarely gave women the title ‘Volunteer’, but there is little doubt that she was actively involved with the movement and it is ironic that the only charge she faced was this minor one.
As a further sign that things were getting easier 19 Regiment arranged a rugby match against the HQ Northern Ireland Signals Squadron. Sgt Moore and I played and the game provided a welcome diversion from our normal duties, but it was also a painful reminder of how much my physical fitness had dropped off. Long hours walking the streets in a flak jacket made completely different physical demands from running around a rugby field for eighty minutes. Even in the most remote operational bases, today’s soldier usually has access to gym equipment and is able to stay much fitter. In 1972 we had none. We were just settling in to the post-match celebrations when the inevitable happened. A phone call told us that 28 Battery were required in Lisburn again to stand by in case of Protestant intimidation, so pausing only to buy a packet of Polos, we were rushed back to Casement Park.
Around breakfast time on 5th November I was looking around MacAlpine’s Yard when I noticed a slight smell of almonds in the air. The smell became stronger as we moved around the backs of the houses in Riverdale South and between 33 and 37 Riverdale Park South it was almost overpowering. Down by the stream near where David Storrey and Bob Hope had been murdered we found several empty polythene bags with traces of Co-op sugar on them. There were also traces of the substance along the river bank so we called in a sniffer dog. The dog reacted very positively and, though he searched the area thoroughly, he made no significant find. We concluded that the area had probably been used for making bombs, not storing them, and thought little more of it.
8th November was a hectic day and began with a whole series of cars being hijacked around the area and driven to Riverdale. One of the cars, subsequently left outside a supermarket on Lisburn Road, had a massive bomb in it and exploded destroying the building. Another exploded in the square in Lisburn where we had confronted the UDA only days earlier.
Following up the various reports, Sgt Johnston, the Battery Int Sgt, saw two suspicious-looking men run into the back of 19 Riverdale Park Drive. Bdr Taylor and his section lifted the house and arrested Tony Rooney, believed to be the Explosives Officer of E Company, and Gerald Fitzgerald, Adjutant of E Company. Under interrogation Rooney admitted responsibility for the supermarket bomb and was charged but Fitzgerald admitted nothing; however, he was on the run and was charged with escaping from custody. Alertness and a bit of good luck had probably caught two of those responsible for several bombings. We suspected the signs of Co-op sugar found in MacAlpine’s Yard on 5th November were from where the bombs were assembled before the cars were hi-jacked.
‘King Rat’ had searched the sewers, but we had heard that explosives had recently been found in drains in the Lower Falls area, so we decided to take a look the drains of Riverdale. On 9th November 4 and 5 Troops did the search and Bdr Faulkner found twenty-four sticks of gelignite and a quantity of detonators in a drain in Riverdale Park South. With them was an Explosives Officer’s handbook written in long hand, thought to have belonged to Tony Rooney.
On the same afternoon I was on patrol in Riverdale when we received a message that two youths with pistols had just held up the Post Office in Andersonstown Road and taken about £1,700 in Postal Orders and £200 in cash before heading off into Riverdale Park North. The Post Master said they were of average height and average build. We could have added ‘average eyes and average hair’ because it was plain he was too frightened to be more helpful. This was the eleventh time in eighteen months that Post Office had been robbed.
By way of follow-up, we decided to take a look at our favourite houses in Riverdale Drive and see what we could find. L/Bdr Jenner and a section from 4 Troop lent a hand to lift 9 Riverdale Park Drive where we found not only Eilish McGettigan, who we had come to know well, and a girl called Hanlon, but, to our great delight, Gerard (Ardo) Dornan, who we had previously arrested with Tommy Gorman. At the time Dornan had been charged with the armed robbery of a Coca-Cola van in Riverdale back in the spring and he had been released on bail. He failed to answer his bail and we had received information that he was involved in several other IRA attacks. Most recently we had been told that he was Finance Officer of E Company which would very likely link him with the Post Office robbery that had just taken place.
Next Tommy McCandless was picked up in number 13. McCandless had been one of the sentries at the house where we found the bomb in Riverdale Park South. He was believed to be a section leader in E Company and, under questioning, Tony Rooney had said that McCandless was also involve
d in the supermarket bombing the day before.
Peter the Para and his family were thought to have returned to the States so we were surprised when the door of Number 7, his house, was opened by a woman we did not know, but who had been seen in the thick of it on several occasions when there had been trouble in the estate. She reluctantly identified herself as Ann-Marie Loughran, wife of Peter Loughran, one-time commander of E Company, and sister-in-law of Seamus Loughran. It seems Ann-Marie Loughran was now living in Peter the Para’s old house.
With the benefit of hindsight, it should also have occurred to us that, if Dornan had just held up the Post Office, the weapons and proceeds from the robbery should have been hidden nearby, but it had been a hectic and confusing period and we neglected to search more thoroughly.
We maintained our interest in the same houses and the following day noticed a red Austin 1100 was parked outside. It was stolen, so, yet again, we searched the houses. In number 7, with Ann-Marie Loughran was Liz McKee of Finaghy Road North who was an important name on our wanted list. No reason was given, but we were told we could not lift her, which was very frustrating. She was eventually arrested in December, after we had returned to Germany, and made history as the first woman to be interned during that period of the Troubles.
In number 9 with Eilish McGettigan was Seamus Thompson, who had been in the company of Tommy Gorman on 10th August when a blast bomb exploded prematurely and he lost his hand. We could not link anyone with the stolen 1100 but we knew that number 7 and number 9 were both used at times as safe houses and suspected that McKee and Thompson, possibly with others, had stolen the car for the IRA to use.
On 4th November the Irish News carried an article in which Mrs Eilish McGettigan of Riverdale Drive told of her frequent harassment and ill-treatment at the hands of the British Army and the constant searching of her house. No formal complaints were made and there was neither military nor civil contact with the Battery over the accusations. It did provide a little amusement for us during our last few days and we felt it was a fitting farewell to Eilish and her friends in the ‘hardline’ corner of Riverdale.