Night Patrols
Chapter 11
I have always been a night person. The training received in the Army only heightened this as most activity on 'exercise' was centered on the hours of darkness.
So it came as no surprise to me that I always looked forward to night patrols while posted in Northern Ireland. To me this was a 'natural' time to be soldering. Darkness was an ally not an enemy. Furthermore, at night we operated shadow patrols. (Shadow Patrol is the term I've coined for this type of patrol. It wasn't a 'Black Op' or anything 'Covert' or 'Sinister'; just a patrol that kept in the shadows as much as possible and covered the more visible patrol. Nor were these an everyday event).
A shadow patrol entailed a normal patrol formation out on the streets escorting an RUC officer, with the shadow patrol itself covering the normal
formation but without an RUC officer. We wore 'camo' paint on our faces (something deemed too aggressive normally) and went out on wider arcs or very tight formations depending on the objective or the area to be patrolled.
Stream beds, culverts and roof tops were not unusual routes amongst the paths taken for the shadow patrol and a new route 'discovered' through an area was highly prized.
Night patrols were in my opinion just good honest soldering.
But night patrolling was a highly dangerous business. C Company's first shooting engagement (where shots were fired back) happened at night. This incident led to some PIRA members being wounded and captured.
Night time in Belfast was almost a magical time to be out and about. For a large city like Belfast to be quiet was eerie but at night time it almost came to a stop. Whole patrols without seeing a civilian or vehicle were not uncommon. The city itself seemed at times to be bracing itself for another day.
It was also a common time when sectarian shootings occurred or, as was more the case while I was there, the time when inter terrorist group shootings happened (PIRA, INLA or the IRA). Of course, all paramilitary sides (Protestant and Catholic) did most of their 'punishment' shootings at night time. This led to some grizzly findings while on patrol.
There were also other unusual happenings. Unconscious drunks or mugging victims were also to be dealt with. One incident I vividly remember happened as we were heading back to RUC Springfield Road.
It would have been no earlier than 1a.m. As E14C came off the Falls Road and were about 100 meters away from the RUC station we saw a figure hunched down in one of the shop doorways that are around this intersection.
Suspecting a person might be setting up an RCD we quietly approached the figure. My senses were jumping through the roof. I could hear my blood pumping through my veins. Each step I made sounded to me like a herd of elephants. We closed to within 10 meters.
Ben signalled me to move in as the rest of the team covered me. I was in a crouching stance and started forward again. As I moved closer I decided to use the FRG (Federal Riot Gun, more commonly known as the Rubber Bullet Gun), unslung it and inched my way further forward. At this range the FRG would have incapacitated the figure without killing him. I got even closer and noticed another body. This one was prone on the ground.
Adrenaline rushed through me. Slowly, quietly I continued moving forward. The FRG was aimed right at the figure's chest. I admit I was tempted to aim at the head but that could have been fatal. No more than 3 meters away. Controlling my breathing, I was just about to issue a challenge when I realized what was going on.
The man prone on the ground was unconscious and, as it turned out, blind drunk. The other man had come across this body and liking the new trainers he was wearing was trying them on for size (I guess with the idea of swapping them!!). I just about burst out laughing. The tension flooded out of me. Suppressing my laughter, I signalled to the rest of the team to hold fire. I stood upright, walked straight towards the would-be robber and said in a very loud voice that if he moved a muscle I would shoot. I am sure I heard the guy shit himself but to his credit he did not move at all. It was like he had turned into a statue.
I then signalled the rest of the team in. As they also got closer they figured out what was going on. Ben called in on his radio for an RUC officer.
Within moments one was out of the Springfield Road Station and had nabbed the would-be thief. The team picked up the 'fashion victim' and ran into the police station. He was quickly taken off our hands, still fast asleep.
This amusing type of occurrence was uncommon but when they happened they came as a welcome relief.
While on QRF duty, we were woken up on the 'morning' of the 9th May just before 2 a.m. Sleeping kitted up, we were loading our rifles within seconds of the alarm going off. Within minutes we were in an armoured Land Rover and heading out of the main gate of North Howard Street Mill. Ben briefed us on the way to our objective. RUC Springfield Road and the Broadway OP had just been fired at within a few minutes of each other.
The Broadway OP, as its name suggests, was an observation post on Broadway. The OP itself was on top of a block of flats. Broadway runs down from the Falls Road and ends near the Westlink Motorway. To the east is the Royal Victoria Hospital (RVH) complex, south was waste ground and the La Salle suburb, west is Beach Mount, and north is the Falls Road itself. It had, therefore, a commanding view of a large area.
We arrived near the bottom of the OP within minutes of the alarm going off. Foot patrols had in the meantime been diverted off the set routes given that night and were converging on the area.
No one in the OP had been hit and there was some confusion as to where the fire had come from. After we had been dropped off we headed away from the RVH towards Broadway OP. Sometimes shots were fired to attract troops into (or out of) an area with the intention of luring you into an ambush. With this in mind we had to keep a look out on our surroundings as normal while trying to find traces of the firing position.
As we neared the point where we were going to hold up and wait for the foot patrol, an object on the ground caught my eye. As I looked I realized that I had found the point from where the shots had been fired since bullet casings were scattered about. For a millisecond I thought about picking them up but then training kicked in. There could be a booby trap. Also the area should not be disturbed so as to enable the tracker dogs the best possible scent trail and finally, stopping could be the trigger for a shot from a sniper.
So I moved on and after another 15 meters or so signalled to Ben to stop. Ben came over to me and I explained what I had seen and where the site was. Ben gave the command that we were going to hold position and we sought what cover we could find. Ben then radioed in the information and asked for a 'Groundhog' ('Groundhog' was the call sign for a tracker dog). Our objective then became to keep the area secure and to keep the dog and its handler protected.
When the 'Groundhog' arrived the dog immediately picked up a scent and headed off. The route took us back towards the RVH. I was just beginning to think that the dog was following our own trail when it veered off and went into the hospital grounds. Several hundred meters further on, still in the hospital grounds, the trail went cold for the dog. There must have been a waiting vehicle ready to carry the gunman away. At least there were the shell casings. These could possibly be tracked back at a later stage to other shootings and used as evidence to help bring a prosecution.
I'll never know if this was the case.
However, while out on shadow patrol one night earlier on in our tour of duty we did manage to get our hands on some suspects.
I do not remember the date; neither is it listed in the Battalion Major Incident Diary. I think it was during the time of the Irish marching season and I feel that what was discovered and dealt with was leading up to an attack planned against a 'parade'. I do clearly remember most of the events of that night, though.
Two out of the four platoons based in North Howard Street Mill were out on patrol. 9 platoon, whom E14C were part of, were out as shadow protection.
Moving though the Lower Falls and into the Distillery area, we were suddenly brought to a halt by the replacement 'Brick Commander' (Ben being in hospital recovering from his wounds received on the 7th of April).
After a hurried conversation over the radio we were informed that we were to proceed with all possible haste to Dunville Park.
Dunville Park is a 5 acre park that is situated on the Falls Road/Grosvenor Road (the Dunville's, who gifted the park to the city of Belfast, also had a Whiskey Distillery at the back of Grosvenor Road and this is what gave the Distillery area its name). While moving to Dunville Park we were to keep out of sight and remain quiet.
Our new route took us to the RVH and it was only after we arrived there that we found out what was going on.
One of the monitored security cameras which were placed at strategic positions (some of them placed covertly) had seen large groups of people
carrying crates into Dunville Park. These were thought to contain petrol and milk bottles.
It was thought that the group of people were unaware that another patrol was very close as the 'normal' platoon strength patrol was several suburbs away and would be observed by people known as 'dickers'. These watchers would inform the whereabouts of the security forces to whoever had asked them.
Therefore the unknown second patrol was diverted and put in a cordon around the park. RUC Grosvenor Road was contacted and a force of RUC officers was being gathered. These would arrive at points around the park along with our own QRF vehicles. We were to deposit our weapons with our QRF teams and enter the park armed only with batons and FRG's. The QRF teams were to provide armed cover. As soon as the RUC arrived and we were all ready, we were to flood into the park and grab as many of the people as we could catch. These were then to be
deposited back outside the park to the RUC officers waiting in armoured Land Rovers. Evidence of the group's activities was also to be looked out for and secured to stop it being removed or destroyed.
Lastly, we were told to use all reasonable force but resistance was to be subdued as quickly as was practicable. After the events we had experienced over the previous months, the opportunity to get our hands dirty came as an unexpected bonus!
The brick commander pointed to Terry, Chris and myself. With hand gestures he made it clear that Terry and I were to pair up as one snatch squad and Chris and he were to make another. Three fingers raised, he counted down three, two, and on one his hand shot out in the direction we were to move out in.
Over a wall and onto Grosvenor Road. I could see the Park straight in front of me. Driving up fast came one of our QRF vehicles followed closely behind by two RUC vehicles. Other 'bricks' were already moving to our left and right and I knew that the same would be happening around the park as the trap closed. Without a pause I handed my SLR (rifle) over to a member of that night's QRF team. I then ran over to the fence that surrounded the park and crouched down. Seconds later Terry joined me. In no time at all we were all ready to go.
An RUC officer walked over to where we were. His SMG (9mm sub machine gun) hung at his side, his thumbs stuck in the arm holes of his flack jacket in a familiar pose that I often saw the RUC take.
He looked us up and down and after insuring we were all 'disarmed' just said in a distinctive harsh Northern Irish accent, "GO".
Like greyhounds unleashed we were in the park and running headlong into the unknown. I realised that I had no idea where Terry was. Slowing down and looking around me, I saw Terry. He must have had the same thought at the same time. We stopped and grinned at each other like fools.
Movement.
A couple of twenty (or so) year olds were running headlong towards us. Terry had his truncheon ready. I decided to leave the FRG on my back. Rage as I had never felt rushed through me. It felt as if I could rip up a person from limb to limb. Still running headlong towards us, I chose my person.
Through a bush a group of 9 Platoon soldiers appeared. This must be what these guys were running from. Like a rabbit getting chased by dogs, I thought my target was fixated behind him and was not aware I was directly in front of him.
Like a green-clad matador, at the last second I stepped to one side, lent forward and with the heel of my hand drove my right arm forward into the chest of my target. Like a sack of flour he crashed flat on his back, a look of utter terror on his face. To me the act of driving him into the ground felt as easy as pushing a net curtain aside. I dropped onto him with my knee and grabbed an arm. Twisting it, I turned him onto his front. All resistance was gone and as I grabbed at his other wrist he basically put his wrists together behind his buttocks. Taking a cable tie that hung off all our web belts, I bound his hands together. In a fluid motion I dragged him up to his feet.
Terry was binding his target in the same manner. A member of the group of soldiers that had been chasing these guys said a comment like "you've got these two sorted, we're off to catch our own", and they sped off.
Terry nodded at me and we took our captives off towards the waiting wagons. Since running onto Grosvenor Road neither of us had uttered a word. When we were once again back out at our jump off point, I saw that some of the snatch squads had already deposited their captives with the RUC. These were sitting quietly in the back of one of the Land Rovers.
It was only when I handed my 'man' over that I smelt the overpowering odour of petrol. As the RUC read him his rights and I waited for Terry's 'man' to be handed in, the rage I had felt melted away. I don't know why. I didn't feel sorry for these captives. The petrol bombs they were making were intended to inflict serious injuries on the security forces or other people. But there it was. I was suddenly flat and felt sick of the mindless violence these people took as 'normal'.
Why? Why did they live like this? Didn't they also see the futility in it all? I suddenly remembered an English lesson I'd had about WW1 war poets. A part of a line from Wilfred Owen's "Dulce Et Decorum Est" popped into my brain, "like a devil's sick of sin"
Terry snapped me out of my introspection. "Are you ready", he said. With a sigh I said, "Yep", and we were off again.
We grabbed two or three more people. These were now almost handing themselves in. All we had to do was cuff them and escort them to the waiting police. Looking at the arrested group through what felt like 'dead-fish' eyes, I saw that they were mainly teenage to mid-twenty year olds, mainly male but a few females also.
On our last sweep through the park I saw hundreds of stacked milk bottles and cans of petrol. Large quantities of these were all ready to 'go', with a rag hanging out waiting to be lit. It was still inky black in the park with only the orange street lights casting any illumination. I remembered to drop some 'white cards' in the area where we nabbed our suspects. These fluttered to the ground like confetti. Looking around I saw the outlines of these white postcard arrest notices all around me. The night was still quiet. Not even any dogs were barking.
"Comon Metty", said Terry, and we left the park behind us to collect our rifles.
The rest of our patrol was cancelled. As we strapped back onto our right wrists the rifle sling that bound us to our SLR's and checked our safety
catches, the armoured 'Pigs' arrived. These drove us straight back to North Howard Street Mill and to the end of another night patrol
Chapter 11
I have always been a night person. The training received in the Army only heightened this as most activity on 'exercise' was centered on the hours of darkness.
So it came as no surprise to me that I always looked forward to night patrols while posted in Northern Ireland. To me this was a 'natural' time to be soldering. Darkness was an ally not an enemy. Furthermore, at night we operated shadow patrols. (Shadow Patrol is the term I've coined for this type of patrol. It wasn't a 'Black Op' or anything 'Covert' or 'Sinister'; just a patrol that kept in the shadows as much as possible and covered the more visible patrol. Nor were these an everyday event).
A shadow patrol entailed a normal patrol formation out on the streets escorting an RUC officer, with the shadow patrol itself covering the normal
formation but without an RUC officer. We wore 'camo' paint on our faces (something deemed too aggressive normally) and went out on wider arcs or very tight formations depending on the objective or the area to be patrolled.
Stream beds, culverts and roof tops were not unusual routes amongst the paths taken for the shadow patrol and a new route 'discovered' through an area was highly prized.
Night patrols were in my opinion just good honest soldering.
But night patrolling was a highly dangerous business. C Company's first shooting engagement (where shots were fired back) happened at night. This incident led to some PIRA members being wounded and captured.
Night time in Belfast was almost a magical time to be out and about. For a large city like Belfast to be quiet was eerie but at night time it almost came to a stop. Whole patrols without seeing a civilian or vehicle were not uncommon. The city itself seemed at times to be bracing itself for another day.
It was also a common time when sectarian shootings occurred or, as was more the case while I was there, the time when inter terrorist group shootings happened (PIRA, INLA or the IRA). Of course, all paramilitary sides (Protestant and Catholic) did most of their 'punishment' shootings at night time. This led to some grizzly findings while on patrol.
There were also other unusual happenings. Unconscious drunks or mugging victims were also to be dealt with. One incident I vividly remember happened as we were heading back to RUC Springfield Road.
It would have been no earlier than 1a.m. As E14C came off the Falls Road and were about 100 meters away from the RUC station we saw a figure hunched down in one of the shop doorways that are around this intersection.
Suspecting a person might be setting up an RCD we quietly approached the figure. My senses were jumping through the roof. I could hear my blood pumping through my veins. Each step I made sounded to me like a herd of elephants. We closed to within 10 meters.
Ben signalled me to move in as the rest of the team covered me. I was in a crouching stance and started forward again. As I moved closer I decided to use the FRG (Federal Riot Gun, more commonly known as the Rubber Bullet Gun), unslung it and inched my way further forward. At this range the FRG would have incapacitated the figure without killing him. I got even closer and noticed another body. This one was prone on the ground.
Adrenaline rushed through me. Slowly, quietly I continued moving forward. The FRG was aimed right at the figure's chest. I admit I was tempted to aim at the head but that could have been fatal. No more than 3 meters away. Controlling my breathing, I was just about to issue a challenge when I realized what was going on.
The man prone on the ground was unconscious and, as it turned out, blind drunk. The other man had come across this body and liking the new trainers he was wearing was trying them on for size (I guess with the idea of swapping them!!). I just about burst out laughing. The tension flooded out of me. Suppressing my laughter, I signalled to the rest of the team to hold fire. I stood upright, walked straight towards the would-be robber and said in a very loud voice that if he moved a muscle I would shoot. I am sure I heard the guy shit himself but to his credit he did not move at all. It was like he had turned into a statue.
I then signalled the rest of the team in. As they also got closer they figured out what was going on. Ben called in on his radio for an RUC officer.
Within moments one was out of the Springfield Road Station and had nabbed the would-be thief. The team picked up the 'fashion victim' and ran into the police station. He was quickly taken off our hands, still fast asleep.
This amusing type of occurrence was uncommon but when they happened they came as a welcome relief.
While on QRF duty, we were woken up on the 'morning' of the 9th May just before 2 a.m. Sleeping kitted up, we were loading our rifles within seconds of the alarm going off. Within minutes we were in an armoured Land Rover and heading out of the main gate of North Howard Street Mill. Ben briefed us on the way to our objective. RUC Springfield Road and the Broadway OP had just been fired at within a few minutes of each other.
The Broadway OP, as its name suggests, was an observation post on Broadway. The OP itself was on top of a block of flats. Broadway runs down from the Falls Road and ends near the Westlink Motorway. To the east is the Royal Victoria Hospital (RVH) complex, south was waste ground and the La Salle suburb, west is Beach Mount, and north is the Falls Road itself. It had, therefore, a commanding view of a large area.
We arrived near the bottom of the OP within minutes of the alarm going off. Foot patrols had in the meantime been diverted off the set routes given that night and were converging on the area.
No one in the OP had been hit and there was some confusion as to where the fire had come from. After we had been dropped off we headed away from the RVH towards Broadway OP. Sometimes shots were fired to attract troops into (or out of) an area with the intention of luring you into an ambush. With this in mind we had to keep a look out on our surroundings as normal while trying to find traces of the firing position.
As we neared the point where we were going to hold up and wait for the foot patrol, an object on the ground caught my eye. As I looked I realized that I had found the point from where the shots had been fired since bullet casings were scattered about. For a millisecond I thought about picking them up but then training kicked in. There could be a booby trap. Also the area should not be disturbed so as to enable the tracker dogs the best possible scent trail and finally, stopping could be the trigger for a shot from a sniper.
So I moved on and after another 15 meters or so signalled to Ben to stop. Ben came over to me and I explained what I had seen and where the site was. Ben gave the command that we were going to hold position and we sought what cover we could find. Ben then radioed in the information and asked for a 'Groundhog' ('Groundhog' was the call sign for a tracker dog). Our objective then became to keep the area secure and to keep the dog and its handler protected.
When the 'Groundhog' arrived the dog immediately picked up a scent and headed off. The route took us back towards the RVH. I was just beginning to think that the dog was following our own trail when it veered off and went into the hospital grounds. Several hundred meters further on, still in the hospital grounds, the trail went cold for the dog. There must have been a waiting vehicle ready to carry the gunman away. At least there were the shell casings. These could possibly be tracked back at a later stage to other shootings and used as evidence to help bring a prosecution.
I'll never know if this was the case.
However, while out on shadow patrol one night earlier on in our tour of duty we did manage to get our hands on some suspects.
I do not remember the date; neither is it listed in the Battalion Major Incident Diary. I think it was during the time of the Irish marching season and I feel that what was discovered and dealt with was leading up to an attack planned against a 'parade'. I do clearly remember most of the events of that night, though.
Two out of the four platoons based in North Howard Street Mill were out on patrol. 9 platoon, whom E14C were part of, were out as shadow protection.
Moving though the Lower Falls and into the Distillery area, we were suddenly brought to a halt by the replacement 'Brick Commander' (Ben being in hospital recovering from his wounds received on the 7th of April).
After a hurried conversation over the radio we were informed that we were to proceed with all possible haste to Dunville Park.
Dunville Park is a 5 acre park that is situated on the Falls Road/Grosvenor Road (the Dunville's, who gifted the park to the city of Belfast, also had a Whiskey Distillery at the back of Grosvenor Road and this is what gave the Distillery area its name). While moving to Dunville Park we were to keep out of sight and remain quiet.
Our new route took us to the RVH and it was only after we arrived there that we found out what was going on.
One of the monitored security cameras which were placed at strategic positions (some of them placed covertly) had seen large groups of people
carrying crates into Dunville Park. These were thought to contain petrol and milk bottles.
It was thought that the group of people were unaware that another patrol was very close as the 'normal' platoon strength patrol was several suburbs away and would be observed by people known as 'dickers'. These watchers would inform the whereabouts of the security forces to whoever had asked them.
Therefore the unknown second patrol was diverted and put in a cordon around the park. RUC Grosvenor Road was contacted and a force of RUC officers was being gathered. These would arrive at points around the park along with our own QRF vehicles. We were to deposit our weapons with our QRF teams and enter the park armed only with batons and FRG's. The QRF teams were to provide armed cover. As soon as the RUC arrived and we were all ready, we were to flood into the park and grab as many of the people as we could catch. These were then to be
deposited back outside the park to the RUC officers waiting in armoured Land Rovers. Evidence of the group's activities was also to be looked out for and secured to stop it being removed or destroyed.
Lastly, we were told to use all reasonable force but resistance was to be subdued as quickly as was practicable. After the events we had experienced over the previous months, the opportunity to get our hands dirty came as an unexpected bonus!
The brick commander pointed to Terry, Chris and myself. With hand gestures he made it clear that Terry and I were to pair up as one snatch squad and Chris and he were to make another. Three fingers raised, he counted down three, two, and on one his hand shot out in the direction we were to move out in.
Over a wall and onto Grosvenor Road. I could see the Park straight in front of me. Driving up fast came one of our QRF vehicles followed closely behind by two RUC vehicles. Other 'bricks' were already moving to our left and right and I knew that the same would be happening around the park as the trap closed. Without a pause I handed my SLR (rifle) over to a member of that night's QRF team. I then ran over to the fence that surrounded the park and crouched down. Seconds later Terry joined me. In no time at all we were all ready to go.
An RUC officer walked over to where we were. His SMG (9mm sub machine gun) hung at his side, his thumbs stuck in the arm holes of his flack jacket in a familiar pose that I often saw the RUC take.
He looked us up and down and after insuring we were all 'disarmed' just said in a distinctive harsh Northern Irish accent, "GO".
Like greyhounds unleashed we were in the park and running headlong into the unknown. I realised that I had no idea where Terry was. Slowing down and looking around me, I saw Terry. He must have had the same thought at the same time. We stopped and grinned at each other like fools.
Movement.
A couple of twenty (or so) year olds were running headlong towards us. Terry had his truncheon ready. I decided to leave the FRG on my back. Rage as I had never felt rushed through me. It felt as if I could rip up a person from limb to limb. Still running headlong towards us, I chose my person.
Through a bush a group of 9 Platoon soldiers appeared. This must be what these guys were running from. Like a rabbit getting chased by dogs, I thought my target was fixated behind him and was not aware I was directly in front of him.
Like a green-clad matador, at the last second I stepped to one side, lent forward and with the heel of my hand drove my right arm forward into the chest of my target. Like a sack of flour he crashed flat on his back, a look of utter terror on his face. To me the act of driving him into the ground felt as easy as pushing a net curtain aside. I dropped onto him with my knee and grabbed an arm. Twisting it, I turned him onto his front. All resistance was gone and as I grabbed at his other wrist he basically put his wrists together behind his buttocks. Taking a cable tie that hung off all our web belts, I bound his hands together. In a fluid motion I dragged him up to his feet.
Terry was binding his target in the same manner. A member of the group of soldiers that had been chasing these guys said a comment like "you've got these two sorted, we're off to catch our own", and they sped off.
Terry nodded at me and we took our captives off towards the waiting wagons. Since running onto Grosvenor Road neither of us had uttered a word. When we were once again back out at our jump off point, I saw that some of the snatch squads had already deposited their captives with the RUC. These were sitting quietly in the back of one of the Land Rovers.
It was only when I handed my 'man' over that I smelt the overpowering odour of petrol. As the RUC read him his rights and I waited for Terry's 'man' to be handed in, the rage I had felt melted away. I don't know why. I didn't feel sorry for these captives. The petrol bombs they were making were intended to inflict serious injuries on the security forces or other people. But there it was. I was suddenly flat and felt sick of the mindless violence these people took as 'normal'.
Why? Why did they live like this? Didn't they also see the futility in it all? I suddenly remembered an English lesson I'd had about WW1 war poets. A part of a line from Wilfred Owen's "Dulce Et Decorum Est" popped into my brain, "like a devil's sick of sin"
Terry snapped me out of my introspection. "Are you ready", he said. With a sigh I said, "Yep", and we were off again.
We grabbed two or three more people. These were now almost handing themselves in. All we had to do was cuff them and escort them to the waiting police. Looking at the arrested group through what felt like 'dead-fish' eyes, I saw that they were mainly teenage to mid-twenty year olds, mainly male but a few females also.
On our last sweep through the park I saw hundreds of stacked milk bottles and cans of petrol. Large quantities of these were all ready to 'go', with a rag hanging out waiting to be lit. It was still inky black in the park with only the orange street lights casting any illumination. I remembered to drop some 'white cards' in the area where we nabbed our suspects. These fluttered to the ground like confetti. Looking around I saw the outlines of these white postcard arrest notices all around me. The night was still quiet. Not even any dogs were barking.
"Comon Metty", said Terry, and we left the park behind us to collect our rifles.
The rest of our patrol was cancelled. As we strapped back onto our right wrists the rifle sling that bound us to our SLR's and checked our safety
catches, the armoured 'Pigs' arrived. These drove us straight back to North Howard Street Mill and to the end of another night patrol
A 'White Card'.
Broadway OP visible at the top of the tower block.
