First Impressions
Chapter 4
The flight from Gutersloh was quite and uneventful. The usual white cardboard box 'lunch' was 'thrown' out.
These boxes contained:
1) White bread sandwiches, soggy bread in the middle and stale curled up bread on the outside edge. The fillings were all of unknown origin but some were once thought to be either ham (see-through pink sheets of slimy nothingness) or cheese (grated yellow rubber which has been left in a warm place for a week or two until the grated bits go hard and smelly). If you thought you got egg you just throw those away!
2) Crackers and cheese. This was the puzzle part of the box! First you had to unwrap the cheese from the plastic wrapping. This plastic they should have used as body amour as it was flexible but virtually indestructible. The crackers were always broken (so you had to piece them back together like a jigsaw puzzle). Last of all you had a plastic knife that always broke when you tried to cut the cheese/plastic wrappers.
3) Can of fizzy drink. Always warm and shaken up to within a second of the can exploding. Great fun opening and ummmm so tasty.
4) Fruit, or something that used to be the year before.
So once I was full of plastic and stale bread and still trying to dry the sticky wet patch where the drink had erupted over me, I drifted off to
sleep.
My first recollection of Ireland was of a little old lady. We had landed and moved into a small aircraft hanger at RAF Aldergrove. It was still dark and we'd collected our baggage. We were waiting for the vehicles that would pick us up and take us to our base of operation. In C Companies case this was North Howard Street Mill. As we were waiting in the groups that we would be 'shipping out' in I noticed a very small petit old lady. She looked like your average Grandmother and totally out of place amongst all 'us' soldiers. She was stopping at each group and handing out items exchanging a few words and then moving on to the next group. I thought it must be another form to fill out; possibly a 'how did
you rate your in-flight meal' questionnaire I joked with the other members of the group. When she at last approached us, she gave each of us a little gift. I was quite taken aback by this and simply added my thanks as were the rest of the guys. She finally wished us all good luck and moved off to carry on the process with the next group. I received a little calendar which I still have.
I found out later that she had been targeted by Republican Terrorists several times and had been seriously injured on a few occasions. What guts she had. It was not the last time I would see her!
The piles of junk that would take us on the last leg of our journey arrived. I had never seen a Humber 1 ton truck before. The official army vehicle designation of these is the FV1611 and FV1612. We knew them as 'Pigs' and always called them as such. These ungainly looking armored trucks were obsolete in the 1960's and were replaced by the FV432 tracked APC (armored personnel carrier). They were therefore sold off in the late 60's. When the 'troubles' started again in the late 60 and erupted in the early 70's the Saracen wheeled APC was first used but these were found to be noisy, expensive to maintain, and in too few numbers for what was needed in Northern Ireland. Therefore, the decision was
made to issue Humber armoured trucks to units in Northern Ireland and the Ministry of Defence had to buy back some they had already sold off.
Over the years several improvements had been made to the base model to deal with different tasks/strategies/situations. Therefore new improved names for the 'Pigs" were thought up. These included:
1) Flying Pig, a normal vehicle with extending riot screens on either side,
2) Holy Pig, a normal vehicle with a rooftop hatch surrounded by a Perspex screen,
3) Kremlin Pig, a normal vehicle with a wire screen for protection against rocket propelled grenades and the only type I ever saw and rode in,
4) Squirt Pig, a normal vehicle with a fitted water cannon beside the driver for riot control.
5) Foaming Pig, a normal vehicle fitted with a foam generator to kill the blast from bombs.
All of these improvements and the extra armouring of the 'Pigs' was carried out by the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) under 'Operation Bracelet'. To my amazement and heartfelt thanks these 'Pigs' for all their pieced together looks never once broke down while I was in Belfast, and is a testament to the work done by the REME and the regiments own mechanicics.
Anyway, for my part I always called them (the Humber's) 'Pigs' and always with a sense of affection. So after giving these relics the once over we mounted up. The interior was small and cold. All the peep holes were closed and we could only catch glimpses of our surroundings through the drivers vision slit. After awhile I gave up and after what felt like an age we arrived at what would be our home. North Howard Street Mill.
Ah a familiar sight, my home in Northern England had old cotton mills aplenty. North Howard Street Mill as the name implies was an old textile mill situated on North Howard Street. I didn't release then, but I'd never look at these old buildings in the same way every again.
North Howard Street Mill was known by many names just like the 'Pigs'. Some people always called it by its initials (NHSM), other called it the 'Sub' due to the fact it had no windows. I called it just 'The Mill'. After getting out of the "Pig' I found myself in a courtyard.
My surroundings looked like a medieval castle. The 'Mill' was the 'Keep', and a high brick and metal fence/wall surrounded this leaving areas where vehicles could be parked, a pipe range (riffle range to zero your weapons; so called because it was made out of concrete pipes), vehicle maintenance bay, and a weapons load/unloading bunker. Around the wall at intervals were 'watchtowers' called SANGARS and there was also the main gate (as well as very small 'back door'). Yes the more I visualize 'The Mill' the more it looks like a castle.
We entered into the mill through a small door and went straight upstairs with kit bag and rifle. Up and up round and round this staircase went. The old stone steps worn with the countless footsteps that had walked over them. Several flights of stairs later and into a room that I'd share with my brick. I wasn't expecting much and wasn't disappointed.
Extra kit and ammo was then to be handed out. I received the FRG and SUIT sight for my SLR, the first time I'd ever seen the SUIT sight. Then handed a sweat/urine smelling flack jacket that still felt wet from its previous owner.
Then it was basic orientation given by members of the 'forward party'; toilets here, laundry here, brief room here, SANGAR one here, two here three etcetcetc. Then we had to zero our rifles and for me this meant the 'new' sight. This I really struggled with. The range was only 20 meters long but it took ages to get a decent tight group of shots to zero my rifle on.
Very soon on our 'Day 1' it was time for our first patrol. Down to the briefing room. Well I guess you've got to go out sometime, strike while the
irons hot old boy...
A room with no windows and the biggest map I've ever seen. Int briefing (what a crock). Our patrol route was given and memorized. Red joker. Brown Chimp. Green Finch. These were the code names of our 'bomb' jamming equipment. These were our only defense against RCD's (Remote Controlled Devices).The equipment looked a little like a radio. The 'Radio' detected the radio waves used when a RCD had been activated.
The anti RCD 'radio' we carried would pick up these radio waves and then transmit radio interference in an attempt to block the radio waves and therefore stop the RCD going off.
When this happened a warning tone would sound and the standard operating practise was to hold fast. The reason behind this was if an explosion had not occurred it was the interference that was stopping it. Any movement could block the signal stopping (buildings blocking radio wave, or metal beams etc) the bomb going off.
An interesting piece of information regarding this was that when we patrolled through the Royal Victoria Hospital we had to switch off these radios. They would pick up pacemakers amongst other things and could interfere with these. Therefore there was a 'truce' between Security Forces and the Paramilitary Terrorist groups.
This in effect was they wouldn't set up RCD's anymore in the hospital grounds and we would switch off these 'radios' while walking through the RVH area. This did not extend to these groups firing on SF troops from the RVH or using it as a 'getaway' route.
Each radio looked at a band or frequency range. Each brick carried three one of each band. They were all very different in size as well. The forth member of the brick was the NCO commander. He of course carried a 'real' radio for communications.
"Don't forget to do dummy radio checks", we were told. WHAT you don't think they've figured out these aren't radios! "For Christ sake there's not even a pretend radio mike", I heard a voice say.
As we headed down stairs I did a mental check of my gear. 'Hang on a minute we still haven't been given out NI gloves' I thought. I asked when we'd get them issued to be told there are none. 'Fuck, what do you mean there's none', I almost burst out saying. 'Cool it, don't say anything thing, you don't want to get in trouble', I told myself! Looking around I noticed I wasn't the only one that was realizing that there was a lack of some of the basic 'Kit' we should have. No one spoke out. All of us had learnt to make do with the lack of kit and mend what we could scrounge.
In the yard. Four 'men' looking at each other waiting for the turn to go out through the Iron Gate. Mags on we step up to the sand pit and as a brick put one up the spout. I think 'I hope to hell I don't let one off by mistake'...
Gate open go go go. Blur, slow motion, off to Divis Flats the long way round, which meant a long patrol ending up near Divis Flats (which was close to NHSM).
Shit the place looked like it had been bombed, which funny enough it had. The streets were full of dogs and dog shit, bricks and glass, melted tarmac and waste ground. Tin City didn't look like this!
I had one horrible moment when for the first time we crossed a street. I'd turned around and stopped to watch Chris safely cross. During training once this had happen Chris would 'tell' me when he was safely across and we'd move on again. This time however I didn't hear anything. After awhile I turned around to see where he was and noticed they were already proceeding up the road. The same thing happened to Chris later on and I guess the same thing happened to the rest of the guys on their first time out. Basic training rule one, what our NCO's had
told us way back but had been told to 'forget' in Tin City; always keep an eye over your shoulder. One nil to our NCO's.
My strongest memory of my first patrol was an old woman in a pedestrian tunnel under the Westlink motorway. As I waked past her she said to me under her breath "God Bless". 'If God was real he wouldn't let this happen', I thought in reply. I've scoffed at religion ever since. The first of many 'epiphanies' I'd have in the months to come.
It was by now early evening as we neared the patrols final destination of RUC Station Grosvenor Road. It was a relief as we entered the Station and waited to get our lift back to base.
It was good to get this first patrol over with. I'd learnt some new basic rules and also knew what I could expect in the months to come. Later as I sat on my bed watching the late news I pinned up the calendar I'd been given earlier that day and crossed off that first day. The little tick looked very 'small' and 'lonely' on the calendar. One day down heaps to go. I sorted the rest of my kit out and made sure I was ready to go back out. It didn't take long before the TV was switched off and the four members of E14C were trying to catch a few hours of sleep before our next patrol.
Chapter 4
The flight from Gutersloh was quite and uneventful. The usual white cardboard box 'lunch' was 'thrown' out.
These boxes contained:
1) White bread sandwiches, soggy bread in the middle and stale curled up bread on the outside edge. The fillings were all of unknown origin but some were once thought to be either ham (see-through pink sheets of slimy nothingness) or cheese (grated yellow rubber which has been left in a warm place for a week or two until the grated bits go hard and smelly). If you thought you got egg you just throw those away!
2) Crackers and cheese. This was the puzzle part of the box! First you had to unwrap the cheese from the plastic wrapping. This plastic they should have used as body amour as it was flexible but virtually indestructible. The crackers were always broken (so you had to piece them back together like a jigsaw puzzle). Last of all you had a plastic knife that always broke when you tried to cut the cheese/plastic wrappers.
3) Can of fizzy drink. Always warm and shaken up to within a second of the can exploding. Great fun opening and ummmm so tasty.
4) Fruit, or something that used to be the year before.
So once I was full of plastic and stale bread and still trying to dry the sticky wet patch where the drink had erupted over me, I drifted off to
sleep.
My first recollection of Ireland was of a little old lady. We had landed and moved into a small aircraft hanger at RAF Aldergrove. It was still dark and we'd collected our baggage. We were waiting for the vehicles that would pick us up and take us to our base of operation. In C Companies case this was North Howard Street Mill. As we were waiting in the groups that we would be 'shipping out' in I noticed a very small petit old lady. She looked like your average Grandmother and totally out of place amongst all 'us' soldiers. She was stopping at each group and handing out items exchanging a few words and then moving on to the next group. I thought it must be another form to fill out; possibly a 'how did
you rate your in-flight meal' questionnaire I joked with the other members of the group. When she at last approached us, she gave each of us a little gift. I was quite taken aback by this and simply added my thanks as were the rest of the guys. She finally wished us all good luck and moved off to carry on the process with the next group. I received a little calendar which I still have.
I found out later that she had been targeted by Republican Terrorists several times and had been seriously injured on a few occasions. What guts she had. It was not the last time I would see her!
The piles of junk that would take us on the last leg of our journey arrived. I had never seen a Humber 1 ton truck before. The official army vehicle designation of these is the FV1611 and FV1612. We knew them as 'Pigs' and always called them as such. These ungainly looking armored trucks were obsolete in the 1960's and were replaced by the FV432 tracked APC (armored personnel carrier). They were therefore sold off in the late 60's. When the 'troubles' started again in the late 60 and erupted in the early 70's the Saracen wheeled APC was first used but these were found to be noisy, expensive to maintain, and in too few numbers for what was needed in Northern Ireland. Therefore, the decision was
made to issue Humber armoured trucks to units in Northern Ireland and the Ministry of Defence had to buy back some they had already sold off.
Over the years several improvements had been made to the base model to deal with different tasks/strategies/situations. Therefore new improved names for the 'Pigs" were thought up. These included:
1) Flying Pig, a normal vehicle with extending riot screens on either side,
2) Holy Pig, a normal vehicle with a rooftop hatch surrounded by a Perspex screen,
3) Kremlin Pig, a normal vehicle with a wire screen for protection against rocket propelled grenades and the only type I ever saw and rode in,
4) Squirt Pig, a normal vehicle with a fitted water cannon beside the driver for riot control.
5) Foaming Pig, a normal vehicle fitted with a foam generator to kill the blast from bombs.
All of these improvements and the extra armouring of the 'Pigs' was carried out by the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) under 'Operation Bracelet'. To my amazement and heartfelt thanks these 'Pigs' for all their pieced together looks never once broke down while I was in Belfast, and is a testament to the work done by the REME and the regiments own mechanicics.
Anyway, for my part I always called them (the Humber's) 'Pigs' and always with a sense of affection. So after giving these relics the once over we mounted up. The interior was small and cold. All the peep holes were closed and we could only catch glimpses of our surroundings through the drivers vision slit. After awhile I gave up and after what felt like an age we arrived at what would be our home. North Howard Street Mill.
Ah a familiar sight, my home in Northern England had old cotton mills aplenty. North Howard Street Mill as the name implies was an old textile mill situated on North Howard Street. I didn't release then, but I'd never look at these old buildings in the same way every again.
North Howard Street Mill was known by many names just like the 'Pigs'. Some people always called it by its initials (NHSM), other called it the 'Sub' due to the fact it had no windows. I called it just 'The Mill'. After getting out of the "Pig' I found myself in a courtyard.
My surroundings looked like a medieval castle. The 'Mill' was the 'Keep', and a high brick and metal fence/wall surrounded this leaving areas where vehicles could be parked, a pipe range (riffle range to zero your weapons; so called because it was made out of concrete pipes), vehicle maintenance bay, and a weapons load/unloading bunker. Around the wall at intervals were 'watchtowers' called SANGARS and there was also the main gate (as well as very small 'back door'). Yes the more I visualize 'The Mill' the more it looks like a castle.
We entered into the mill through a small door and went straight upstairs with kit bag and rifle. Up and up round and round this staircase went. The old stone steps worn with the countless footsteps that had walked over them. Several flights of stairs later and into a room that I'd share with my brick. I wasn't expecting much and wasn't disappointed.
Extra kit and ammo was then to be handed out. I received the FRG and SUIT sight for my SLR, the first time I'd ever seen the SUIT sight. Then handed a sweat/urine smelling flack jacket that still felt wet from its previous owner.
Then it was basic orientation given by members of the 'forward party'; toilets here, laundry here, brief room here, SANGAR one here, two here three etcetcetc. Then we had to zero our rifles and for me this meant the 'new' sight. This I really struggled with. The range was only 20 meters long but it took ages to get a decent tight group of shots to zero my rifle on.
Very soon on our 'Day 1' it was time for our first patrol. Down to the briefing room. Well I guess you've got to go out sometime, strike while the
irons hot old boy...
A room with no windows and the biggest map I've ever seen. Int briefing (what a crock). Our patrol route was given and memorized. Red joker. Brown Chimp. Green Finch. These were the code names of our 'bomb' jamming equipment. These were our only defense against RCD's (Remote Controlled Devices).The equipment looked a little like a radio. The 'Radio' detected the radio waves used when a RCD had been activated.
The anti RCD 'radio' we carried would pick up these radio waves and then transmit radio interference in an attempt to block the radio waves and therefore stop the RCD going off.
When this happened a warning tone would sound and the standard operating practise was to hold fast. The reason behind this was if an explosion had not occurred it was the interference that was stopping it. Any movement could block the signal stopping (buildings blocking radio wave, or metal beams etc) the bomb going off.
An interesting piece of information regarding this was that when we patrolled through the Royal Victoria Hospital we had to switch off these radios. They would pick up pacemakers amongst other things and could interfere with these. Therefore there was a 'truce' between Security Forces and the Paramilitary Terrorist groups.
This in effect was they wouldn't set up RCD's anymore in the hospital grounds and we would switch off these 'radios' while walking through the RVH area. This did not extend to these groups firing on SF troops from the RVH or using it as a 'getaway' route.
Each radio looked at a band or frequency range. Each brick carried three one of each band. They were all very different in size as well. The forth member of the brick was the NCO commander. He of course carried a 'real' radio for communications.
"Don't forget to do dummy radio checks", we were told. WHAT you don't think they've figured out these aren't radios! "For Christ sake there's not even a pretend radio mike", I heard a voice say.
As we headed down stairs I did a mental check of my gear. 'Hang on a minute we still haven't been given out NI gloves' I thought. I asked when we'd get them issued to be told there are none. 'Fuck, what do you mean there's none', I almost burst out saying. 'Cool it, don't say anything thing, you don't want to get in trouble', I told myself! Looking around I noticed I wasn't the only one that was realizing that there was a lack of some of the basic 'Kit' we should have. No one spoke out. All of us had learnt to make do with the lack of kit and mend what we could scrounge.
In the yard. Four 'men' looking at each other waiting for the turn to go out through the Iron Gate. Mags on we step up to the sand pit and as a brick put one up the spout. I think 'I hope to hell I don't let one off by mistake'...
Gate open go go go. Blur, slow motion, off to Divis Flats the long way round, which meant a long patrol ending up near Divis Flats (which was close to NHSM).
Shit the place looked like it had been bombed, which funny enough it had. The streets were full of dogs and dog shit, bricks and glass, melted tarmac and waste ground. Tin City didn't look like this!
I had one horrible moment when for the first time we crossed a street. I'd turned around and stopped to watch Chris safely cross. During training once this had happen Chris would 'tell' me when he was safely across and we'd move on again. This time however I didn't hear anything. After awhile I turned around to see where he was and noticed they were already proceeding up the road. The same thing happened to Chris later on and I guess the same thing happened to the rest of the guys on their first time out. Basic training rule one, what our NCO's had
told us way back but had been told to 'forget' in Tin City; always keep an eye over your shoulder. One nil to our NCO's.
My strongest memory of my first patrol was an old woman in a pedestrian tunnel under the Westlink motorway. As I waked past her she said to me under her breath "God Bless". 'If God was real he wouldn't let this happen', I thought in reply. I've scoffed at religion ever since. The first of many 'epiphanies' I'd have in the months to come.
It was by now early evening as we neared the patrols final destination of RUC Station Grosvenor Road. It was a relief as we entered the Station and waited to get our lift back to base.
It was good to get this first patrol over with. I'd learnt some new basic rules and also knew what I could expect in the months to come. Later as I sat on my bed watching the late news I pinned up the calendar I'd been given earlier that day and crossed off that first day. The little tick looked very 'small' and 'lonely' on the calendar. One day down heaps to go. I sorted the rest of my kit out and made sure I was ready to go back out. It didn't take long before the TV was switched off and the four members of E14C were trying to catch a few hours of sleep before our next patrol.
Author on patrol and trying to find a spot where I won't be a silhouette
.
The Calendar the old lady gave out when we arrived in Northern Ireland.
