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Chapter 5
It was another day in 'sunny' West Belfast. The date was the 7th of April and I was 19 years and one day old having 'celebrated' my birthday the day before. We'd been in Northern Ireland for just over a month and to date all had been 'routine' shootings, blast bombs and mortar attacks. The regiment had already taken its first casualties and to date we had three injured and one dead.
For reasons I can't remember, 9 Platoon had to set up a cordon near the Beech Mount part of our 'turf'. We were driven out by members of the RCT (Royal Corps of Transport) in Pigs and we took up positions around a piece of waste ground that had originally been a gable end to a row of terrace houses. This was next to the primary school on Beechmount Ave.
The two Pigs which had dropped us all off faced down the road towards Falls Road and Beechmount Parade. My position was near the rear of the Pigs facing away from the Locan Street and looking down Islandbawn Street towards Shiels Street and futher on down Islandbawn Street to the Falls Road. The rest of the 'brick' were spaced down the same side of Beechmount Ave.
After the initial hustle and bustle and checking the space around ourselves for items out of the ordinary, we settled into an extended observation. The time was around noon.
Time ticked by slowly.
In the position I had, I'd had to swap the shoulder I put the butt of the SLR (main infantry rifle before the introduction of the SA80 during 1988) against and was now holding the pistol grip in my left hand. To me this wasn't going to be an issue as the distance I could observe was no more than 50 - 60 meters towards Shiels Street and I could fire off a quick round and change to my natural right side if anything happened.
The day was starting to get humid. Or was it that my body temperature had started to dry out the flack jacket that always felt cold and wet?
Time moved by even more slowly. How long had we been here now? 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, or was it even more?
There were few pedestrians out and about for me to look at. My field of view was all empty. No open doors, no shadows in windows, just the occasional person hurrying along. How much longer were we going to be here for?
I started to wish I'd stuck with the optic site on my SLR. Within weeks of my arrival in Belfast I'd started to feel I'd become a target for bricks and had been hit in the hands a few times as kids threw 'missiles' to try to hit the sight. I'd never been comfortable using the SUIT sight and struggled to zero it in.
I therefore asked to remove it when we were re-zeroing our rifles in the pipe range at North Howard Street Mill. I also noticed that I hadn't seen anyone else with the SUIT site for quite some time.
After a while it struck me that the street I was looking down was quite well maintained. Each house had a little garden in front, no more than two or three paces long. Some had a hedge growing and others like the one in front of me had roses planted. Pale sandstone and red bricks. Slate roofs. Low walls in front with round holes on top where iron fences and gates used to be. A very nice street.
The day was starting to cool down but visibility was still very good. It was that diffused light you get in built up areas when the sun dips below the roof tops.
Time continued to tick by slowly.
Crack thump!
Strange that's just like the sound you hear when you're in the butts on the rifle range, I thought.
Crack thump whine!
The noise happened again....... behind me! Time almost slowed to a halt as I then realised that shots were being fired. By whom? Was it by us or them? The temptation to look was unbearable. I turned my head to my left and looked over my shoulder. Ben, my 'brick' commander, and CPL 'Smiler' Howarth, the 'brick' commander from the room next to ours in the Mill, stood between the Pigs, Ben on the left, Smiler on the right. It looked like they were having a chat or a crafty fag! Why was Smiler dropping down?
Crack thump ping.
Time stopped. I could now work out that a gunman was shooting at Ben and Smiler between the Pigs. Smiler had been hit and was rolling for cover. Ben was trying to do the same. Why was no one returning fire? Where was the cover out at the front of the Pigs?
Crack thump ping.
I saw a round hit the ground. I couldn't see where the shots were being fired from. What to do? Should I turn around and try and engage? If I did would another gunman open up from the arc I was covering?
Another shot, another strike on the ground a few meters past the rear of one of the Pigs this time. Ben and Smiler both clear.
I scanned around; to my immediate left 10 meters away next to the school, was an old man in a rain coat.
He was trying to gather in two frightened girls of about 6 and 8 years of age (funny I hadn't noticed that the school looked a little like Alder Hill Primary School where I'd gone to school). Should I run across and shield them? No, I'd possibly only draw the fire towards them if I moved in that direction.
I turned my head all the way to the right. I could see two other members of the cordon taking cover and looking around. That last round felt close when it struck but was likely a good 6 to 8 meters away from me. What to do, what to do?
Decision made; I'd move around the corner into Islandbawn Street and over into the nearest garden and take up my original cover arc in case another shooter appeared. Time sped up. Crack thump, crack thump.
All quiet.
No more than 5 seconds had passed since the first shot was fired. The time now was 20:07.
I glanced around. The old man and the girls were OK. The girls were hysterical and the old man was comforting them while trying to move them along. Ben was getting up. Smiler was having trouble trying to get to his knees.
I changed position again, back to my original observation post. A look down the road, no one in sight, good. Back behind me Ben was helping Smiler. My ears rang and I noticed I'd cut my hands and arms on the rose bushes. If only we'd been given out NI gloves by now but still none to be had for anyone.
The streets around us were now empty. We should be following up. C'mon Ben, give the order. I look over my shoulder again. Terry was now helping Ben with Smiler. Is that blood on Terry's hands?
I check the front again. Nothing. Come on Ben, let's catch the bastards, give the order. I glance back. Smiler really looks in trouble. What's Terry asking of me? My field dressing? Stuff that, I'll get a right bollocking if I 'lose' this dressing, and I'll never get another one issued. I see Terry has stuffed Smiler's beret into his wound. I ignore the request.
I check the front again.
The sound of sirens.
Anger rising. We should be following up. Why was no one looking out at the front of the Pigs? Whose arc was that? What were they doing? Why didn't the RCT guys see anything from where they were sitting in the driver's seat? They would have had a perfect field of view to see where the rounds were fired from. Why had we been on station so long?
An ambulance arrives and in moments Smiler is in the back and it flies away.
At last Ben gives the order and we race down Beechmount Ave towards Clownery Street and Beechmount Parade. Crowds start to appear. Too late, the gunman has long gone.
We take up a new position in Beechmount Parade. Ben comes around, checks our positions. He's angry. Barking orders. He makes me move a few times. I'm angry what he's asking for makes no sense.. forward two meters, back two meters!
The crowds stay back. They must sense the tension in the troops around them. Ben calms down. He checks the team. We're all OK. Ben is limping. The longer he stands the worse it gets. Ben has a stain mid thigh on his leg. He realises he was also hit as his leg finally cramps. An armored land rover arrives and takes Ben away.
Time ticks by. It starts to go dark. The crowds still keep away. 'Strange', I think, normally they would shout out or at least throw stones or worse.
Time ticks by. A million thoughts go through my head. Was I looking the right way? Could I have done more? Did I fuck up? Damn it, this wasn't a drill or an exercise. Why was I hung up about a 50p field dressing? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Time ticks by. I can see the remains of my 'brick'. Who's in charge of the two 'bricks' without commanders? Have we been left behind?
Time ticks by. The call comes. Move back to the Pigs, mount up and return 'home' to the Mill.
All is quiet.
Inside the vehicle no one talks. Each man is left with his own thoughts. As is becoming increasingly regular there is no banter. No eye contact. Just the stare off into a horizon that isn't there.
We arrive back at the 'Mill', de-bus and make our weapons safe. As a group the three remaining members out of Ben's 'brick' trudge back up the dark dusty stairs, taking care as usual not to slip on the worn stone steps within the 'Mill', which in our usual fatigue after a patrol is easier said than done. More so today!
Weapons stored in the rack in our room; Chris and me take all the 'radios' and hand them back in. Terry heads off to grab some food and save a table. Since arriving back no one has said a word. We're all on auto pilot. I can't remember when I last ate and experience the sudden feeling of being ravenous and extremely thirsty.
The meal is shoveled down and then we all head back to our room. Should we report somewhere? Is there to be a debrief? Who's going to answer the questions I'm sure we all have?
Nothing.
The door opens and a non QLR NCO (Non Commissioned Officer) appears. I truly cannot remember his name. He looks uncomfortable as he says he'll be taking over the brick while Ben is in hospital. He tells us when the next brief is which gives us a few hours to try and catch some sleep. He tells us that his room is a few floors down, on the same level as the briefing room, and leaves.
The new NCO changed the 'brick' order. I was to lead and Terry was to bring up the rear. Apart from that everything 'remained' the same. The NCO was a good leader and I remember we all shook hands when he handed the reigns back over to Ben when he returned after a month or so from hospital.
Ben had been hit and had received a deep wound to his thigh. He called his wound his ashtray and in fact used it as such. He never talked about or asked for our thoughts of the events on the day he was injured.
Smiler lost the lower part of one of his legs due to the mess his muscle was in and the inability to reconstruct anything worth saving. It was thought that the round that hit Smiler had first passed through Ben and this had caused it to 'tumble' causing the huge amount of damage Smiler had received. We all went out one day to visit Smiler in Musgrave Park Hospital. As usual he was in high spirits and had obtained a stuffed Parrot to go with his 'peg' leg.
PIRA claimed responsibility for the shooting.
Chapter 5
It was another day in 'sunny' West Belfast. The date was the 7th of April and I was 19 years and one day old having 'celebrated' my birthday the day before. We'd been in Northern Ireland for just over a month and to date all had been 'routine' shootings, blast bombs and mortar attacks. The regiment had already taken its first casualties and to date we had three injured and one dead.
For reasons I can't remember, 9 Platoon had to set up a cordon near the Beech Mount part of our 'turf'. We were driven out by members of the RCT (Royal Corps of Transport) in Pigs and we took up positions around a piece of waste ground that had originally been a gable end to a row of terrace houses. This was next to the primary school on Beechmount Ave.
The two Pigs which had dropped us all off faced down the road towards Falls Road and Beechmount Parade. My position was near the rear of the Pigs facing away from the Locan Street and looking down Islandbawn Street towards Shiels Street and futher on down Islandbawn Street to the Falls Road. The rest of the 'brick' were spaced down the same side of Beechmount Ave.
After the initial hustle and bustle and checking the space around ourselves for items out of the ordinary, we settled into an extended observation. The time was around noon.
Time ticked by slowly.
In the position I had, I'd had to swap the shoulder I put the butt of the SLR (main infantry rifle before the introduction of the SA80 during 1988) against and was now holding the pistol grip in my left hand. To me this wasn't going to be an issue as the distance I could observe was no more than 50 - 60 meters towards Shiels Street and I could fire off a quick round and change to my natural right side if anything happened.
The day was starting to get humid. Or was it that my body temperature had started to dry out the flack jacket that always felt cold and wet?
Time moved by even more slowly. How long had we been here now? 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, or was it even more?
There were few pedestrians out and about for me to look at. My field of view was all empty. No open doors, no shadows in windows, just the occasional person hurrying along. How much longer were we going to be here for?
I started to wish I'd stuck with the optic site on my SLR. Within weeks of my arrival in Belfast I'd started to feel I'd become a target for bricks and had been hit in the hands a few times as kids threw 'missiles' to try to hit the sight. I'd never been comfortable using the SUIT sight and struggled to zero it in.
I therefore asked to remove it when we were re-zeroing our rifles in the pipe range at North Howard Street Mill. I also noticed that I hadn't seen anyone else with the SUIT site for quite some time.
After a while it struck me that the street I was looking down was quite well maintained. Each house had a little garden in front, no more than two or three paces long. Some had a hedge growing and others like the one in front of me had roses planted. Pale sandstone and red bricks. Slate roofs. Low walls in front with round holes on top where iron fences and gates used to be. A very nice street.
The day was starting to cool down but visibility was still very good. It was that diffused light you get in built up areas when the sun dips below the roof tops.
Time continued to tick by slowly.
Crack thump!
Strange that's just like the sound you hear when you're in the butts on the rifle range, I thought.
Crack thump whine!
The noise happened again....... behind me! Time almost slowed to a halt as I then realised that shots were being fired. By whom? Was it by us or them? The temptation to look was unbearable. I turned my head to my left and looked over my shoulder. Ben, my 'brick' commander, and CPL 'Smiler' Howarth, the 'brick' commander from the room next to ours in the Mill, stood between the Pigs, Ben on the left, Smiler on the right. It looked like they were having a chat or a crafty fag! Why was Smiler dropping down?
Crack thump ping.
Time stopped. I could now work out that a gunman was shooting at Ben and Smiler between the Pigs. Smiler had been hit and was rolling for cover. Ben was trying to do the same. Why was no one returning fire? Where was the cover out at the front of the Pigs?
Crack thump ping.
I saw a round hit the ground. I couldn't see where the shots were being fired from. What to do? Should I turn around and try and engage? If I did would another gunman open up from the arc I was covering?
Another shot, another strike on the ground a few meters past the rear of one of the Pigs this time. Ben and Smiler both clear.
I scanned around; to my immediate left 10 meters away next to the school, was an old man in a rain coat.
He was trying to gather in two frightened girls of about 6 and 8 years of age (funny I hadn't noticed that the school looked a little like Alder Hill Primary School where I'd gone to school). Should I run across and shield them? No, I'd possibly only draw the fire towards them if I moved in that direction.
I turned my head all the way to the right. I could see two other members of the cordon taking cover and looking around. That last round felt close when it struck but was likely a good 6 to 8 meters away from me. What to do, what to do?
Decision made; I'd move around the corner into Islandbawn Street and over into the nearest garden and take up my original cover arc in case another shooter appeared. Time sped up. Crack thump, crack thump.
All quiet.
No more than 5 seconds had passed since the first shot was fired. The time now was 20:07.
I glanced around. The old man and the girls were OK. The girls were hysterical and the old man was comforting them while trying to move them along. Ben was getting up. Smiler was having trouble trying to get to his knees.
I changed position again, back to my original observation post. A look down the road, no one in sight, good. Back behind me Ben was helping Smiler. My ears rang and I noticed I'd cut my hands and arms on the rose bushes. If only we'd been given out NI gloves by now but still none to be had for anyone.
The streets around us were now empty. We should be following up. C'mon Ben, give the order. I look over my shoulder again. Terry was now helping Ben with Smiler. Is that blood on Terry's hands?
I check the front again. Nothing. Come on Ben, let's catch the bastards, give the order. I glance back. Smiler really looks in trouble. What's Terry asking of me? My field dressing? Stuff that, I'll get a right bollocking if I 'lose' this dressing, and I'll never get another one issued. I see Terry has stuffed Smiler's beret into his wound. I ignore the request.
I check the front again.
The sound of sirens.
Anger rising. We should be following up. Why was no one looking out at the front of the Pigs? Whose arc was that? What were they doing? Why didn't the RCT guys see anything from where they were sitting in the driver's seat? They would have had a perfect field of view to see where the rounds were fired from. Why had we been on station so long?
An ambulance arrives and in moments Smiler is in the back and it flies away.
At last Ben gives the order and we race down Beechmount Ave towards Clownery Street and Beechmount Parade. Crowds start to appear. Too late, the gunman has long gone.
We take up a new position in Beechmount Parade. Ben comes around, checks our positions. He's angry. Barking orders. He makes me move a few times. I'm angry what he's asking for makes no sense.. forward two meters, back two meters!
The crowds stay back. They must sense the tension in the troops around them. Ben calms down. He checks the team. We're all OK. Ben is limping. The longer he stands the worse it gets. Ben has a stain mid thigh on his leg. He realises he was also hit as his leg finally cramps. An armored land rover arrives and takes Ben away.
Time ticks by. It starts to go dark. The crowds still keep away. 'Strange', I think, normally they would shout out or at least throw stones or worse.
Time ticks by. A million thoughts go through my head. Was I looking the right way? Could I have done more? Did I fuck up? Damn it, this wasn't a drill or an exercise. Why was I hung up about a 50p field dressing? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Time ticks by. I can see the remains of my 'brick'. Who's in charge of the two 'bricks' without commanders? Have we been left behind?
Time ticks by. The call comes. Move back to the Pigs, mount up and return 'home' to the Mill.
All is quiet.
Inside the vehicle no one talks. Each man is left with his own thoughts. As is becoming increasingly regular there is no banter. No eye contact. Just the stare off into a horizon that isn't there.
We arrive back at the 'Mill', de-bus and make our weapons safe. As a group the three remaining members out of Ben's 'brick' trudge back up the dark dusty stairs, taking care as usual not to slip on the worn stone steps within the 'Mill', which in our usual fatigue after a patrol is easier said than done. More so today!
Weapons stored in the rack in our room; Chris and me take all the 'radios' and hand them back in. Terry heads off to grab some food and save a table. Since arriving back no one has said a word. We're all on auto pilot. I can't remember when I last ate and experience the sudden feeling of being ravenous and extremely thirsty.
The meal is shoveled down and then we all head back to our room. Should we report somewhere? Is there to be a debrief? Who's going to answer the questions I'm sure we all have?
Nothing.
The door opens and a non QLR NCO (Non Commissioned Officer) appears. I truly cannot remember his name. He looks uncomfortable as he says he'll be taking over the brick while Ben is in hospital. He tells us when the next brief is which gives us a few hours to try and catch some sleep. He tells us that his room is a few floors down, on the same level as the briefing room, and leaves.
The new NCO changed the 'brick' order. I was to lead and Terry was to bring up the rear. Apart from that everything 'remained' the same. The NCO was a good leader and I remember we all shook hands when he handed the reigns back over to Ben when he returned after a month or so from hospital.
Ben had been hit and had received a deep wound to his thigh. He called his wound his ashtray and in fact used it as such. He never talked about or asked for our thoughts of the events on the day he was injured.
Smiler lost the lower part of one of his legs due to the mess his muscle was in and the inability to reconstruct anything worth saving. It was thought that the round that hit Smiler had first passed through Ben and this had caused it to 'tumble' causing the huge amount of damage Smiler had received. We all went out one day to visit Smiler in Musgrave Park Hospital. As usual he was in high spirits and had obtained a stuffed Parrot to go with his 'peg' leg.
PIRA claimed responsibility for the shooting.
