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CHAPTER 3

The Battle for the Tunnel (Élisabethville)

Baptism of Fire

8 December 1961

‘Crump! Crump! Crump!’ … the incoming mortar rounds slammed into the Irish camp. It took twenty-six seconds for their firing, flight and fall before they smashed into the Irish position, impacting heavily. The ground shook with each blast, the shrapnel scattering, the hot molten metal menacingly seeking its prey, indiscriminately spreading in search of victims. Newly arrived in Congo, A Company, 36th Battalion, was caught on the wrong side of a mortar barrage. It was savage, raw and violent; deliberate, dangerous and deadly. Corporal Michael Fallon was arbitrarily killed outright when an unlikely, rare direct hit impacted on the roof of the outhouse building in which he was located and he died almost immediately. The mortar barrage accounted for a further five injuries; Sergeant Paddy Mulcahy, Privates Marsh and Gilrain, Troopers Kelly and McMullan. So serious were Trooper McMullan’s injuries that he was medically repatriated home to Ireland because of his wounds. Not yet twenty-four hours in Élisabethville, barely two days in the Congo itself, A Company, 36th Battalion had suffered one fatality and five wounded. Their arrival the previous day, though less lethal, had been only slightly less traumatic.

Not Just War But Suicide

7 December 1961

Sustaining over forty hits, with two outboard fuel tanks punctured and the oil system of the starboard inner Pratt & Whitney engine damaged, the United States Air Force (USAF) Douglas C-124 Globemaster II transport aircraft was one of three which received ground fire on approach to landing at Luena Airport, Élisabethville. This was the beginning of the three-week airlift rotation of the main body of the 36th Irish Infantry Battalion to the Congo to replace the 35th Irish Infantry Battalion – the handover duration being extended due to circumstances arising in the region. The 36th Battalion was the sixth Irish unit to deploy in what had already been a year-and-a-half commitment to what altogether became a four-year involvement, comprising twelve Irish units in all. This rotation was to see the scheduled departure and arrival of some twenty Globemaster aircraft, commencing on the 5 December 1961 and ending on Christmas Eve. Originally destined for Albertville, in the Congo’s northeast, the twenty-three hour journey took a route whose flight path went from Dublin, over England, France, Italy, the Mediterranean and a first stop at the US Wheelus Field Airbase in Tripoli, Libya. After refuelling the flight went to RAF-run Kano Airbase in Nigeria before finally arriving at Leopoldville in the Congo. After a day’s rest and a further 1,200 miles to the south – Congo is a vast country – they reached their destination.

While preparations were under way for landing near Élisabethville, two UN Indian Canberra jets suddenly screamed by, discharging their cannons to engage the Katangese Gendarmerie ground positions in the area around the airport. The Globemaster pilots had to carry out landing procedures according to international code, this being when the pilot has not received finalised landing instructions from air traffic control in the airport control tower. The planes turned into the final leg of their approach and so also out over the hostile Katangese, who let loose a hail of fire from their ground positions. Not yet on the ground, hostilities had begun and A Company were already in the thick of it.

Landing with a trail of aviation fuel vapour spewing behind it from the ruptured fuel tanks, the stricken aircraft made a remarkable landing. More than spectacular, it was miraculous it had not caught fire whilst airborne, considering the heat of the engines and the flammability of the high octane vapour. There to meet them were those whose own tour of duty had been eventful but was now nearing its end: the men of the 35th Battalion. They were on the apron’s tarmac, in the airport’s buildings, but mostly in slit-trenches, crawl trenches, weapon pits and command posts, defending its perimeter. The aircraft’s American crew, taking in this sight and already shaken by their exposure to incoming fire on final approach, commented on the experience that landing in Élisabethville ‘wasn’t just war, it was suicide’.

Of immediate concern to the aircraft’s loadmaster was the real possibility of the soles of the Irish soldiers’ hobnail boots causing sparks to fly on contact with the tarmac as they formed rank from the rear of the plane and igniting the fuel now gushing from the wings and vaporising in the heat. They were extremely fortunate not to have been engulfed in a flying fireball on landing, as the requirement to apply the brakes to slow the aircraft often causes sparks. On this occasion none arose and there were instead no casualties among the aircraft’s forty-six Irish occupants. The planes took off again during the day, the first on its surviving three engines. The American crew was disinclined to linger in the Congo. For the 120 or so newly arrived members of the 36th Battalion, their first impression was stark, yet this was only a small taste of things to come.

‘Sit Rep’ (Situation Report) – Freedom of Movement

‘A’ Company counted the precise number of bullet holes in the USAF Globemaster’s airframe, forty-eight in all. Still disbelieving their eventful arrival and bonded in the moment of a share of their good fortune, they quickly understood the US aircrew’s collective desire not to remain on the airport’s apron to affect repairs. Leaving Africa if at all possible seemed a far more wise, welcome and attractive avenue to any other alternative suggested. Giving them some boxes of pack rations the Irish bade the air crew good luck and farewell, then steeled themselves for the new reality that faced them. They had hit the ground running and were uncertain where it was leading them. What was certain was the main route out of the airport was considered insecure, as sniping continued around the city. Movement to and from the airport for the UN was through ‘Route Charlie’ (Avenue de Aracarios), a less dangerous alternative.

First reports of new developments in Congo came on 3 and 4 December 1961, two days before their departure from Ireland, as Katangese Gendarmerie, led by mercenaries, became very active in Élisabethville and on roads leading into the city. As a result, all UN and Irish troops were confined to their respective camps. At this stage the intention had been for the 36th Battalion to concentrate in Albertville and the Nyunzu and Niemba areas, but due to the deteriorating circumstances it became necessary to consider a change in plans and to have the 36th take over from the 35th in Élisabethville. The following day, the Katangese Gendarmerie placed a roadblock on one of the city’s main boulevards, blocking access to the airport.

Hardly a random act its significance was to throw down the gauntlet to the UN, in effect saying if you do not control your freedom of movement we are going to do it for you. After some negotiation the Gendarmerie agreed the roadblock would be removed, but it was not and in addition firing commenced in the city. Irish troops around their camp known as ‘Leopold Farm’, were forced to withdraw to positions closer to the camp. A firm decision was taken in light of these new and grave circumstances to redirect the 36th Battalion to effect relief in situ in Élisabethville. The Katangese Gendarmerie, together with their white mercenary leaders, were determined to ratchet up the pressure on the UN forces. If A Company, newly arrived from Ireland, were in any doubt about the gravity of the situation they were in after the drama of their arrival, it was to become all too obvious over the coming days.

An Uneasy Peace

The abundance of backbone displayed by the Irish at Jadotville was in stark contrast to the dearth of political wisdom that placed them there. Unease existed that the predicament may have been caused by Belgian manipulations in the UN forum, machinations to adversely affect the ONUC’s need to address the security of isolated white settlements in Katanga. The tactical deployment of an organisation’s military assets ought to serve its political strategic aims in the first instance, and not be unscrupulously manoeuvred by others to their advantage. Troubling also was the UN forces’ inappropriately resourced military capabilities to match the assigned tasks. The mission’s overall objectives had often seemed uncertain, confused and ill-defined, while the dithering of the political decision-making adversely impeded the speed of the necessary military planning. Even more unsettling were the unexplained enigmatic circumstances surrounding the mystery of the tragic Dag Hammarskjöld plane crash. On 18 September, Hammarskjöld was en route to negotiate a cease fire when his Douglas DC-6 airliner crashed near Ndola, Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) with no survivors. Accidental, maybe; suspicious, certainly; speculation, endless.

Of enormous and immediate concern in theatre was that by the beginning of December relations between the UN and Katanga government had greatly deteriorated. Katangan Gendarmerie had established a number of roadblocks in the south of the city of Élisabethville, denying the UN freedom of movement in that direction. Subsequent to a series of unsuccessful negotiations, this stalled imposition of an imposed solution in the guise of operations Rampunch and Morthor, and the death of Dag Hammarskjöld in the plane crash, led Dr Conor Cruise O’Brien to voluntarily release himself from his UN assignment in Katanga and he departed the Congo. On 5 December, with A Company busily boarding the three USAF Globemasters at Dublin Airport to commence the 36th Battalion rotation from Ireland, there were reports in the newspapers of an impromptu press conference held in Cruise O’Brien’s New York hotel room the previous evening, where he accused the British of covert support for President Tshombe with the aim of getting his regime recognised.

Meanwhile in Élisabethville, also on 5 December, the issue of the removal of the roadblocks was spontaneously combusting. Three days previously a roadblock was set up by Katangan Gendarmerie in the Tunnel, the railway that was the main link in and out of Élisabethville, and a number of UN personnel were ‘arrested’. Two Irish officers were fired upon near the roadblock but escaped uninjured. The following day a Swedish UN car was also fired upon, killing the driver and wounding three others. Twenty-four hours later another roadblock was erected at the roundabout on Avenue Saio-Stanley, a particularly sensitive spot lying on the route from UN headquarters to the airport, and a strong Swedish patrol failed to have this obstacle removed.

An outright attack was launched on the Gendarmerie-held roundabout by a company of Indian Gurkhas and a mixed unit of one Irish platoon under Lieutenant Tom Quinlan, with two Ford armoured cars, two sections of Gurkhas and one Swedish APC, all under the command of an Indian, Captain Salaria. This force was ambushed near the old airstrip while en route, about one mile from the roundabout, but after a skirmish succeeded in joining up with the Indian Gurkha company and together reclaimed and freed the Avenue Saio-Stanley roundabout from Gendarmerie possession. The overall cost of this military exercise was one UN soldier and twenty-eight Gendarmerie killed.

Sniping into the Irish HQ, Leopold Farm, began on the same day (5 December), with sporadic mortar fire in the vicinity. Within twenty-four hours, with A Company, 36th Battalion in the air en route to Congo, the bullets were flying in Élisabethville. UN jet fighters also appeared in the sky for the first time and while they did not fire their presence had a striking effect on the morale of the UN forces, particularly the Irish. Bitter memories of the September fighting during Operation Morthor and the handicaps imposed by a single unopposed Katanga Fouga Magister fighter over Jadotville, Lufira and Élisabethville were now assuaged. Now there was an answer to the Katangan strafing and bombing. As a result the few Katangan planes remaining confined themselves to night flying and their bombing was happily inaccurate.

The Irish strength in Élisabethville was now very low. Most of A Company (seventy-two of all ranks) had been rotated out since 29 November, the 35th Battalion’s B Company was in Nyunsu and C Company was in Niemba, northern Katanga province. This left only ‘HQ’ Company, the armoured car group, and a platoon from A Company, 35th Battalion. While 5 December had originally been the date appointed for the final rotation of the 35th Battalion, and all preliminary packing, documentation and arrangements had been completed, plans had to be altered as a result of the situation erupting around them. In the event, final rotation did not start until 18 December. At 1405 hours the following day, 7 December, the 36th Battalion began to arrive.

Greeted by a hail of incoming fire, nearly knocking their lead aircraft from the skies on final approach to landing at Élisabethville airport, Lieutenant-Colonel Michael Hogan, Officer Commanding 36th Battalion, elements of his battalion staff and two platoons of A Company entered Leopold Farm (the Irish camp) and were greeted with a very noisy fire fight immediately outside the post. Fire had been directed at the Irish camp since early morning, when at 0730 hours five mortar bombs dropped into the camp, and fire continued throughout the morning. An Irish UN patrol, tasked with the objective of locating the source of the firing, was unsuccessful and the Katangese pushed forward and were engaged by camp defence. They were beaten off just as the 36th Battalion arrived in camp. While having a meal in the mess, the roof of Leopold Farmhouse was hit by a 37mm shell and Lieutenant-Colonel Hogan’s plate was covered in ceiling plaster and debris. Firing by Katangese snipers, machine guns and mortars continued sporadically throughout the afternoon and also through the night. Indian 4.2 inch mortars, located at the Swedish camp, fired throughout the night; some 300 rounds onto the Tunnel and the Katangese Gendarmerie Camp Massart. The Irish were in the direct line of this fire and sleep was out of the question, especially for the newly arrived, uninitiated members of the 36th Battalion, whose first night in Katanga was spent in rain-filled trenches around the camp’s perimeter. The Gendarmerie harassment of the Irish continued the next morning, with sniping, mortar and machine gun fire. A fighting patrol was again dispatched and this time a number of snipers were cleared from nearby villas and a group of Gendarmerie, estimated at company strength, was routed. However, a mortar bomb scored a direct hit on an outhouse building in Leopold Farm killing Corporal Michael Fallon and wounding five other members of the 36th Battalion. An uneasy peace shattered, the second Battle of Katanga had begun and unknown to the men of the newly arrived A Company they were all too soon to take centre stage.

Point ‘E’ – The Liege Crossroads

Their patient determination to kill paid off and the Katangan Gendarmerie ambush set on Stanley Avenue was sprung to good effect. The impact of the anti-tank rounds’ direct hit rocked the Swedish UN armoured personnel carrier (APC) on its chassis, the seriously wounded gunner later dying of his injuries. Having been called to a conference of Unit Commanders and Staff Officers at UN Command HQ, Dogra Castle, the APC was transporting officers commanding the Swedish, Indian and two newly arrived Ethiopian battalions and their respective battalion commanders, both Irish battalion commanders (the handover still in progress), and selected staff officers of the various UN battalions. Its occupants were badly shaken, but as the APC was not disabled it limped on to UN Command HQ, only for them to come under heavy mortar fire mid-afternoon. In all approximately 106 rounds fell on the area, though the conference continued in the cellar. For the return journey, four APCs were provided to avoid this rich target presenting itself again in one vehicle and in the event this convoy was also ambushed by a company of Gendarmerie. This time, however, there were no casualties and the four APCs drove smartly through.

With ongoing sniper and mortar fire into the Irish and Swedish camps, the briefing had laid out that the requirement of the UN forces, but particularly the Irish and Swedish, was to push out and enlarge their respective battalion perimeters and so their camp defences. A combined operation was planned to expand UN control of the Élisabethville area in a direction towards the city centre but short of the Tunnel proper. From intercepts it was learned that a major attack on both the Irish and Swedish camps was imminent, but Swedish and Irish mortars went into action on targets at the Tunnel, as later intercepts revealed that the Gendarmerie were ‘weakened and becoming discouraged’. The attack never developed.

The night of 9 December was a nerve-racking nightmare for the Irish as all night long Gendarmerie and mercenary mortars and machine guns kept up a continuous concentration of fire on the Irish camp, including harrowing fire from a Greyhound APC. Most mortar rounds fell short but there were some twenty that didn’t. The troops again spent the night in their trenches and at this stage most trenches had anything upwards of a foot of water in them. Contrary to expectations no one was injured, but from further intercepts it was learned that the Gendarmerie were reforming once again for an attack on the Irish camp. Irish mortars went into action, successfully, and again the attack did not happen. There was a serious shortage of mortar and anti-tank weapons by this time, as 36th Battalion supplies had been flown to Albertville, their original destination. Over the coming days these armaments and ammunition began to arrive in Élisabethville, but for now the Irish reply to an attack was by measured means, content in the knowledge that the next day would see a more offensive response.

The planned UN expansion operation towards the Liege crossroads, Point ‘E’, on which the Unit commanders and their staff had been briefed, went into effect the following morning, 10 December, and was preceded by an air strike on the Gendarmerie base, Camp Massart. Silver Swedish Saab fighter jets, nicknamed ‘flying barrels’ because of their thick fuselage, screamed overhead, expertly piloted, while Indian Canberra bombers strafed other Katangan strongpoints. The capture intact of fourteen Katangese aircraft during operation Rampunch, the majority of their air assets, and the destruction of almost all the remaining aircraft during a crushing air raid on Kolwezi airstrip on 5 December substantially neutralised the Katangese threat from the air and the UN now pressed its advantage to good effect. As in almost all conflicts it is the ground forces, the ‘boots on the ground’ that have to actually secure the victory. It is this hard, tough, grinding out of on-the-ground fighting by the infantryman that ultimately secures the objective and the day. It is both deadly and dangerous and the issue at hand in Élisabethville was still far from being decided. Since Operation Morthor’s unsuccessful conclusion, the UN had been busy ferrying in materials and munitions, manpower and firepower; the build-up was nearing completion.

It takes a form of fatalism to put yourself in direct line of sight. Nonetheless, encouraged by the air strike someone had to step out and be the first susceptible to a hailstorm of possibly pinpoint accurate fire. Those advancing have the difficulty of doing so while at the same time responding to and/or avoiding defensive fire. The men of A Company were without the advantage of surprise, shielded by darkness, nor screened by smoke. They knew all too well that any prepared defences they encountered must be suppressed before they were riddled by bullets and ripped open from top to bottom by the immediate threat ahead of them; unseen, remaining hidden with no visible sign of presence. There is no mood music or a dramatic musical score – nor an enemy that either convivially pops up or conveniently dies – and there is only a split second between being victor or victim. There is only one thing worse than wondering if someone out there is going to try to kill you, and that is knowing it. You can’t avoid being afraid; the survival instinct is too strong.

This extreme exposure to fear makes one very aware of the basic elements of self; the tension between having to be in the situation and not wanting to be; the strain of moving forward towards danger wishing instead to turn back and stay in safety; the struggle for courage, lost and found in one moment. Every man feels it, not many show it, but all share it. But how to deal with it? The drill is of cover and movement and in the event of coming under attack is ‘fire and movement’.

‘X’ marks The Tunnel. An aerial view of Élisabethville and A Company’s 36th Irish Battalion’s avenue of advance.

Courtesy of the Military Archives, Dublin

An infantry company has three platoons; each in turn comprises three sections. The ten-man section is the basic manoeuvre unit and this can be broken into two, one covering the movement of the other, leapfrogging forward ready to give mutual close-range supporting fire to the other, providing an ordered continuity of interlocking fire and movement. Good in theory, practiced in training, rehearsed in exercises. Add the distinct element of fear to cope with and does it work for real? A Company was about to find out.

Corporal Gerald Francis, the lead section commander of the lead platoon, No. 1 Platoon, recalled this unenvied task as a daunting undertaking:

I knew this was going to be difficult because the avenue along which we had to advance was an open road and we were highly exposed to being fired on. In the open we were going to be very vulnerable [and] I was highly conscious of the … probability of being fired on first. Chance and circumstance dictated it was me and I was all too aware of the potential dangers and wondered how best to deal with them. Glancing to my left as we advanced early on I noticed, looking down a connecting side road, the Swedes advancing along on a parallel route with APCs.

As they advanced their APCs were pouring ‘anticipatory fire’ from their twin box-fed Madsen machine guns into anywhere in advance [where] they felt attackers may be lurking so I raised my Carl Gustav sub-machine gun to my shoulder and did likewise and was quickly joined by the Vickers machine gun fire from the two Ford armoured cars. By means then of this ‘active defence’, while hugely exposed on the move, was how we proceeded, hoping to seize the initiative from any would-be attackers, nullifying their advantage. That there wasn’t anyone there or those that were decided the better of taking us on, the net effect was us reaching Liege crossroads without being fired on. The Swedes on the left route, us on the right route, Point ‘E’ between us.

The Irish battalion perimeter was now extended along Kasenga and Savonniers as far as Liege. B Company had earlier cleared from the Police Camp to the beginnings of Rue De Kasenga, whereupon the Swedes continued. Lieutenant Kiely had been injured by small arms fire. If the firing along the parallel routes had not provoked a direct response from the Gendarmerie then it was because they were only waiting to do so by indirect mortar fire. The ‘danger from the sky’ was to rain down for days.

Mortar fire is deadly, its lethality derived not so much from its explosive effect, unless it was an unlikely but possible direct hit, rather from the slivers of fragmenting shrapnel subsequent to the shredding of its outer metallic case on impact; a killing radius of around 25–50 metres. The larger the calibre, the greater the killing zone. Mortar bombs are fired – more correctly launched – indirectly, that is not in a straight direct line of sight from firer to target but instead lobbed from a firing line onto a target area, up and over in an indirect flight path following an arch-like trajectory. Mortars themselves are essentially metal tubes with a fixed firing pin inside at its base, the desired direction and distance governed by the angle of elevation at which it is set thereby controlling the fall of shot. The mortar bomb, or round, is dropped down the tube, its base striking the fixed firing pin and projected skywards, the tailfin keeping its direction in flight steady and true. Individual pin-point precision is not required due to the dispersive nature of its deadly debris. Accuracy, especially over distance, can be hampered by poor use of the weapon, varying wind direction or fluctuating wind strengths, and so can cause mortar bombs to fall short, long or wide. Some fall on or near the target area but do not explode. These ‘blinds’ need careful consideration because they could yet explode by themselves or if inadvertently disturbed. There is also a potential danger that in a rapid fire situation a mortar bomb is slid down the tube and does not launch. Then the firers, thinking it has exited, drop a subsequent mortar bomb down the tube which explodes on contact with the one already in it; this is known as a ‘double-feed’.

An indirect fire support weapon’s main use is to suppress enemy movement in defence or attack, to subdue their activities, to keep their advance in check, to lay down defensive fire, or to otherwise ‘fix’ them in position while one’s own troops manoeuvre in the advance. ‘Harassing fire’ – intermittent indiscriminate firing onto a fixed position – can achieve the hoped-for demoralisation of an enemy. Underpinning all this, their main use is to kill.

Fired singularly or in pairs, more often in groups, the more mortar bombs arriving onto a position, the more ground surface is covered, and so in this sense it is an area weapon. Such a grouping of mortars causes them to be referred to collectively and conventionally as a battery, and their fire as mortar battery fire. Their use is not the sole preserve of any one side or the other, often mortar fire is used to respond to an enemy mortar firing line. Such ‘counter battery’ (CB) fire is conducted by mortars of equal calibre. These duels, however, frequently escalate in the number of mortars employed and use of higher calibre ones for more impact at longer ranges. Because they are fired indirectly, concealed from the enemy’s observation, a Mobile Fire Controller (MFC) or ‘spotter’ gives directions and adjustments of the fall of shot onto the target. For him to do so he has to have direct line of sight onto the target, to see the rounds’ impact, how near, far, or wide, and communicate with the mortar firing line to call in the adjustments. Discovering the enemy spotter’s likely position and neutralising him is a way of disrupting the process and this makes his job a hazardous one.

Significantly, the Liege crossroads was now in Irish hands and those Gendarmerie accustomed to occupying certain houses from which they opened fire on the Irish camp got a hot reception when they found the houses occupied by the Irish at last light and fled under a hail of fire. Infuriated by the loss of Liege crossroads, a very severe mortar barrage was placed on the Irish positions during the night. Irish mortars replied and approximately 105 mortar bombs fell throughout the battle area. Trooper Sheridan and Corporal Ferguson received shrapnel wounds and Corporal Gorman received a bullet wound; three more added to A Company’s casualty roll.

The following day, 11 December, Point ‘E’, the Liege crossroads, again came under heavy mortar fire. The determined barrage impacts sent dirt flying in a wealth of noise and smoke that sucked the air out of the atmosphere, the combined effect being highly disorienting causing those on the receiving end to feel highly debilitated. The danger caused a panicked scramble for cover, to get behind something – anything – but to get some object, layer or structure between you and the incoming mortar shells; every second urgent as it might be your last, shelter always seeming too far away. Is your dugout deep enough, its top-cover sufficiently protective? Shouting, curses, heart thumping madly – ‘thud, bang’ after ‘thud, bang’ after ‘thud, bang’. Then silence. An acute silence, a momentary dizzy yet very deep silence, the only disturbance your own thoughts that surely no one else could have survived that. But is it actually over? You stir tentatively. Is it only a lull, will a misfire explode belatedly? You strain to hear the telltale whistle of further incoming shells. Nothing. You peer around, your weapon close at hand. During the barrage there were six direct hits alone on Point ‘E’. Yet amid the menacing mayhem, there were lighter moments as well, as Lieutenant Sean Norton describes:

We were dug-in, defending a strategic crossroads, with our HQ 200m to the rear. An hour before sunset we were subject to a mortar-bomb attack in the form of a creeping barrage, moving from front to rear. As the bombs came nearer [to] the HQ the personnel there were ordered to their trenches.

The first man to reach the large trench at the end of the garden was the head cook. As he was about to jump in he stopped suddenly at the entrance. This caused the others behind him to form a very agitated queue. By now the bombs were ripping up the adjoining garden fences, showering them with debris. Everybody was shouting: ‘Jump in!’ to which he replied: ‘I can’t, there’s a fucking frog in it.’ Needless to say, he was dumped head first in on top of the hapless frog, with his comrades in on top of him.

The Moral? It is not always the obvious that frightens.

Inevitably, accompanying small arms fire poured in from the area of the Tunnel itself and south of Avenue Kasenga. Captain McIntyre, B Company, received a bullet wound while his platoon were assisting A Company. Irish mortars replied.

By day three at Liege crossroads, 12 December – over forty-eight hours since the bombardment commenced – attrition began to take effect. The constant wearing down of stamina, weakening of nerve, wrecking of resolve; these and more are called into question as weariness seeps into the senses. This is where self-belief, confidence and concentration are required and four times during the night Commandant Fitzpatrick, Company Commander of A Company, called for mortar support fire to break up Gendarmerie concentrations in forward positions. Inevitably, Katangese mortars replied and incredibly, unmercifully, unimaginably, Sergeant Paddy Mulcahy was wounded again for an unlikely second time, twice in five days. Tragically these were injuries he was to die from four days later. Privates Woodcock, Desmond and Confrey also took shrapnel wounds during these mortar barrages. At last light, in order to neutralise the Katangese mortar fire, Irish battalion mortars laid down a heavy barrage on Katangese positions. Notwithstanding, intermittent mortar fire fell on all Irish positions during the night. Subsequently these mortar positions were successfully located and fired on by the Irish.

The confrontations during day three were not confined to mortar duels alone – these ongoing exchanges of indirect mortar battery fire and counter battery fire – but also direct small arms encounters with Katangese troops and vehicles. M8 Greyhound armoured cars and ‘Willys’ jeeps, with all their combined associated armament – 37mm cannon, .3 and .5 calibre HMGs thrown in for good measure – advanced towards Point ‘E’ and with grim determination were driven off by accurate fire from A Company positions. Though hard pressed at times, the Irish kept up a sustained fire, sending rounds back in the direction of the attackers, who disengaged.

A Company were now well and truly ‘blooded’. Under attack on arrival and under constant fire since, with Corporal Fallon killed and five wounded on day one, the advance and holding of Point ‘E’ was to see Sergeant Mulcahy die of his wounds and nine other assorted casualties from a mix of mortar and small arms fire. All sustained within one week. A Company had received their baptism of fire, which was to be further forged on the crucible that Point ‘E’ was turning out to be. They were proving silently heroic and resilient in the face of fierce hostility. There are many types of courage and different degrees of bravery, all in essence derived from the overcoming of fear. You do not have to have a weapon in your hand to display it; your actions are intended to help others, not to gain personal recognition. This was seen in a number of instances where individual selfless acts, ordinary in themselves but extraordinary in the time, place and circumstances performed, inspired or at least encouraged others and in this regard were significant. The injured Private Woodcock, despite his wounds and obviously in pain, vulnerable and uncertain of his prognosis, remained calm and urged that other casualties receive medical attention before him. Private James Fallon – brother of Corporal Michael Fallon – insisted on remaining with the company in theatre despite his brother’s death on day one, when it was easily understandable that he could return to Ireland. Sergeant Paddy Mulcahy – injured once – refused to leave his platoon and returned to his duties, only to put himself at risk again looking after his men and unfortunately paid the ultimate price. Private James Murray tirelessly provided food to those in exposed positions, even after having one container blown clean out of his hands by a mortar bomb, and continued to maintain an appreciated supply of cooked meals. Medical orderly Corporal Charlie Connolly – regardless of his safety – continued to attend casualties under heavy mortar and small arms fire, bringing medical aid to the wounded, despite the danger involved.

With the UN force fighting for freedom of movement, the capacity of the Katangese to provoke was not yet exhausted and they set up a further roadblock near the large Socopetrol petrol and oil depot on Avenue Usoke in order to secure fuel supplies for themselves and cut off the Irish and Swedish camps from UN Headquarters. Commandant Pat Quinlan, his namesake Lieutenant Tom Quinlan, and elements of A Company of the Jadotville Siege fame, were once again pressed into action within days of being homeward-bound. Passing through defensive fire, the Irish penetrated close to the depot and set a number of storage tanks ablaze with offensive fire. Not satisfied that all the tanks had been destroyed, Commandant Quinlan again approached the depot, this time commando style. He and his squad infiltrated through a swamp, at times up to their waists and even necks in water, to set the remaining much-needed fuel tanks ablaze. Flames rose to an estimated 100 metres, lighting up the countryside and, because of the nightly bombing raids, causing some concern at the airport, some five miles to the northwest. However, no bombing was attempted that night and the blaze continued for four more days.

While this action hampered Katangese motor movement they still retained a bombing capacity, under the direction of mercenary pilot Jerry Puren. A South African, with Second World War bomber service with the South African Air Force, Puren later flew transport planes with the Royal Air Force and saw service during the Berlin Airlift. Recruited as a mercenary in 1961, for the next seven years he was intensely involved in mercenary operations in the Congo, initially on the ground and then an air commander. Later he was an aide to Tshombe himself. Initially paid $1,000 a month, Puren became one of the very few mercenaries who fought for the Katanga ideal, not solely for the money. Early involvements saw his planes strike against Baluba concentrations, dispersing the Jeunesse warriors along the northern borders of Katanga around Lake Upemba and Kabala. Later, Puren’s flights attacked ANC troops of the Central Congolese government crossing Katanga’s border from Leopoldville and Stanleyville. Now, having kept a few planes safe from the UN jet fighter attacks on Kolwezi airstrip by holding them in nearby but much smaller airstrips, he was both conducting and directing night attacks on the UN’s Élisabethville airport.

He flew a converted Dove aircraft, used as an eight-seater transport or for light cargo deliveries, and rigged a rack system along the interior fuselage to take 12.5 kg bombs, making a hatch in the floor and mounting a plastic bombsight on the floor. By pulling a lever, bombs were dispatched one at a time through the hatch in the floor. By such means, with two Dornier aircraft and Puren in his Dove, the Katangese responded at night to the daytime raids by the UN jets. Thankfully, for the most part, their aim was largely inaccurate, but those below were not to know that until after the fact.

Over the next two days (13–14 December) heavy mortaring continued on all Irish positions. Some of this counter battery fire was in response to Swedish mortars firing from A Company’s locale, and during one bombardment Captain Harry Agnew was injured, losing one and a half fingers to shrapnel slivers. At one stage during these heavy exchanges it was agreed with the American Embassy that mortar fire from Irish lines should stop to allow the evacuation of 500 women and children from the Athene schools.

The identification of Katangese mortar positions was vital in the ebb and flow of the ongoing exchanges, which rapidly developed into duels. After three days and nights of almost continuous exposure to heavy incoming mortar barrages, a very definite direction was given with the aim of determining exactly the location of the enemy mortars. It was imperative they were found and neutralised. This involved the mortar OP (Observation Post with the MFC) going to higher ground, but to do so necessitated crossing a road under constant bombardment and having to move the necessary radio equipment, a heavy and cumbersome C-12 Wireless set with two large 6V encased ‘wet’ batteries to power it. This required crossing the exposed road on no fewer than four occasions, all the while under fire. The observers, Paddy Guerin and the previously injured Paul Ferguson, now gave a new ‘fire mission’ order with revised directions. The first fall of shot was declared ‘near’, the second ‘on’ – remarkable accuracy from the Irish. Thereafter, the enemy mortar line was taken out by A Company counter battery fire. A great deal of damage was inflicted on the Gendarmerie, neutralising its effect. This took a lot of unwanted ‘attention’ away from the Irish positions along Liege crossroads, and secured a springboard from which to set up the advance on the Tunnel.

On one subsequent occasion, the sighting of a Gendarmerie Greyhound armoured car in a firing position behind a house in Belair – a residential area for white settlers south of Avenue de Kasenga – led to the further discovery of new mortar positions. Surrounded as they were by city residents, the Irish could not direct fire onto them and the Katangese took full advantage of any opportunity afforded in the circumstances. Any such advantage was very short-lived, however, as these exchanges were about to be rapidly overtaken by events and happenings dictated by the UN Force Commander; Operation Unokat was about to be put into effect.

Seize and Hold

It was barely a week since A Company’s arrival into Congo and the build up to Operation Unokat, but in terms of experience it had been an electric escalation. They arrived as tentative peacekeepers, immediately became tough peace-enforcers and would soon be tantamount to ‘war fighters’. This tacit transformation from timidity through tenacity to temerity had been torrid and traumatic, the journey taut and tense, brutal and bewildering. Shot at on touchdown, subjected to several attacks since and under constant mortar and sniper fire, the Irish had been heavily pounded for the last four days. Having sustained one fatality and suffered several seriously wounded, they were no longer raw recruits and were far from being ‘green’. They had gone through something monumental, a situation that had been intense, fast and fluid. Being ‘new to the fight’ there was an excitement and drama to it, but this was neither history nor Hollywood, it was all too authentic and pressurised. They were beginning to be ground down by their experiences, their tempo degraded, their energy sapped. They were already tired, but the situation demanded a step up in toughness – they had to go toe-to-toe with an ‘enemy’.

The undertaking of a conventional offensive military operation was now the task in hand. Taking on this manoeuvre was accompanied by various tactics and techniques, which they had trained for but was now for real. A deliberate full-blown company attack, they were now part of a battalion action, itself a portion of the plan involving a brigade formation operation. The challenge to be accomplished was to be conducted in darkness and within the urban environment of Élisabethville. Fighting in built-up areas is difficult, lengthy and more costly in terms of ammunition and also, potentially, casualties.

The Tunnel, a vital railway bridge intersection with a dual carriageway underpass, controlled a crucial avenue of access into central Élisabethville and was a key point from which to continue the attack and support future operations. The Gendarmerie, under mercenary supervision, had the time, means and weaponry to prepare and fortify selected key buildings and structures as strongpoints; the Tunnel itself ideal for this purpose. The string of mutually supporting bolstered-up buildings and improved protected positions were certain to offer stiff resistance. Due to its nature, a defence of this type is easier to withstand any assault. An attacker faced with fighting in a built-up area will immediately look first and foremost to bypass; next to neutralise, stand off and fire into; then to destroy by artillery, tank or air bombardment. Only as a last and least favoured option would an attacking force conduct an assault. The Tunnel was the centre of gravity of the Katangese defence of Élisabethville; it was on this that everything depended and A Company had to rupture it. Bypassing or reducing it to rubble were not options, the Tunnel had to be seized and held the hard way. It was boots-on-the-ground, troops-on-the-Tunnel time.

A crucial bottleneck, the Tunnel was the single access point, the vital valve controlling the flow to and from the city centre from the south. For approximately 2 km either side it was completely built-up, a critical choke point of strategic importance. To seize requires advance; advance demands forward movement; movement needs impetus; and maintaining impetus under fire is dependent on momentum. It is difficult to keep the continuous tempo of an attack after you have been fired upon at close range. The inclination is to remain under cover and from there return fire. Junior leaders have to push hard and despite training and instruction the tendency is for men to bunch together, to misuse ground and cover; an instinct that has to be fought against throughout such an action. The success of an attack in particular depends on the initiative, energy and determination of the junior leaders in applying the company commander’s plan. Giving effect to this offensive spirit is fundamental to getting and keeping men moving towards seizing the opportunities available and gaining the objective. When soldiers come under fire they want reassurance and direction.

The moral strength of the commanders as much as the physical means available is what really gives effect to planned actions. However, the most important weapon in any war is intelligence, and the UN didn’t do intelligence. Yet it was effectively at war. It was evident to the Irish that the task that lay ahead was not going to be easily achieved. There are many things that mitigate against such efficiency, some controllable, others not. Knowing the ground, particularly the terrain whereupon sits and surrounds the objective, is important. A Company were without proper maps providing any indication of the nature of the ground or buildings on the objective. Air photographs were not provided, organic fire support weapons – those within the Company were 60mm mortars and medium machine guns – were in short supply, and radio communications were poor. But every commander at every level knows you cannot possibly hope to possess all the advantages all of the time, the reality of the situation you are faced with is often far from the textbook ideal. Notwithstanding, the requirement remains, the objective has to be taken and the mission achieved.

What was a given was that the Katangese Gendarmerie were now a determined, well-equipped force. They were well led by battle-hardened, experienced, ruthless mercenaries who were a thinking adversary with a well-conceived campaign plan. Before this operation the Gendarmerie had been going from strength to strength and implementing this plan granted them a direction towards success. It began with harassing tactics, with close-in firing on UN camps at the time when the Irish and Swedish battalions were rotating. Their aim was to confine these raw new battalions to their camps. Next, they were determined to isolate the UN troops from their supply line; in this they were almost successful. The Irish, Swedish, Ethiopian and Indian battalions were denied routes Alpha and Bravo through Élisabethville. Finally, they aimed to seize the airport thus denying the UN its strategic APOD (Air Point of Disembarkation) and base.

Therefore, UN command had to counter and a plan to implement the destruction of Katangese resistance in the Élisabethville area was hatched. What would become known as Operation Unokat was a brigade in attack with a further brigade encirclement; in effect a division-sized operation. The operation was to be carried out in two phases: Phase One would contain and keep pressure on the Katangese Gendarmeries and mercenaries, in the Tunnel area particularly, with mortar fire pre-H-Hour (the exact time for the attack to commence). Phase Two, the Indian and Ethiopian battalions would surround Élisabethville by cutting off and blocking key routes – effectively sealing the city – preparatory to the destruction of the Katangese Gendarmerie and mercenary resistance by the Irish and Swedish battalions. This second phase was itself made up of two parts, one for the Irish 36th Battalion, the second for the composite 12th/14th Swedish Battalion. The one brigade-sized manoeuvre involved two deliberate and deep battalion-in-attacks – one Irish, one Swedish – supported by Indian 120mm heavy mortars.

The specific mission for the Irish Battalion, out of the brigade operation order, was the vital task of seizing and holding the Tunnel and to exploit forward positions in order to secure the right flank of the Swedish attack on Camp Massart, the Gendarmerie base. The UN brigade-in-attack plan for this offensive operation had therefore to synchronise the efforts of a number of elements of different nationalities, to coordinate their moving parts with fire support, properly integrated to a precise timetable, in order to dominate the fluid tactical situation. In turn, the individual battalions prepared their own respective attack plans, integrating with the specific details of the brigade’s mission and its coordinating instructions. Thus ‘Operation Sarsfield’ was brought into being, with A and B Companies launching the main attack on respective twin axes, mutually supported by C Company in reserve. The main effort of the entire brigade attack and overall divisional effort lay in the hands of the Irish, and as circumstances were to play out, hinged mostly on A Company’s efforts to seize the Tunnel.

In addition to its significant tactical importance, the Tunnel’s capture would have immense psychological value, smashing the Katangese grip on the city’s access, and allowing the UN to retake control of its freedom of movement and the overall situation. In exerting its military force in support of its mandated stand, the UN was making a massive statement to the world that it was prepared to back its position militarily. The loss of this major junction was crucial in breaking the morale and will of the Gendarmerie and the mercenaries. This was high-stakes stuff, tactically and strategically, both militarily and politically. It would be heavily defended and not easily given up.

The importance of the plan, its clear communication and effective execution, was emphasised at the ‘O’ Group, where the commander imparts his plan to his subordinates through the issue of orders. These full formal verbal orders are the key to ensuring that commanders within the battalion clearly understand the part they have to play in the upcoming action; that all important aspects are covered; and a precise prescribed formatted sequence is followed. That the mission completion is paramount is emphasised and the mission itself stated unambiguously, then restated for effect. Questions are answered and no effort is spared to ensure everyone has a clear understanding of the coordinated action to conduct the operation is arrived at. More than that, the commander will impress his personality on the operation and motivate his commanders verbally. It is here that leadership, that unseen but immediately obvious quality, comes directly into play and the unit cohesiveness of action is built around the commander’s intent, and Lieutenant Colonel Hogan’s intent was very clear: the Tunnel was to be seized and held and A Company were to do it.

Code Word: ‘Sarsfield’

On the afternoon of 15 December 1961, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Hogan, Officer Commanding, 36th Infantry Battalion, received orders for the UN offensive to commence early the following morning (16 December). He issued orders at 2100 hours and H-hour for the attack to commence on the Tunnel was fixed for 0400 hours. In the intervening hours, between receiving his mission and issuing his own orders, Lieutenant Colonel Hogan had to prepare his own plan of action and his unit for combat. In the circumstances, time was the number-one enemy and he had to know both what, and perhaps more importantly, how to think in order not to allow precious hours and minutes to slip by. Having been given his mission he now had to prepare his plan to achieve it, and these efforts would only culminate when – having estimated the situation he was tasked with – he would develop and impart this plan via his ‘O’ Group (orders group) and launch the troops of his battalion into the forthcoming fray as fully prepared as he possibly could make them.

To craft his plan he had to consider what the mission accomplishment tasked him with, both stated and inferred. What did he have available in terms of military assets to achieve it, did he need additional support, and how was he going to organise all of this to best effect? In the given circumstances he and his staff had to determine the risks associated with the various options in light of the successful accomplishment of the essential tasks required of him and decide which were acceptable. Military men do not gamble. They take risks, but they weigh the different degrees of risk between one course of action and another, mentally and methodically war-gaming and scoring each. When it comes to analysing the mission, the trained military mind set works backwards, so to speak. A reverse logic and mental process kicks in, beginning with the objective to be achieved then analysing the time and physical space available to achieve it, in order to establish the correctly sequenced chain of events to be set in motion. This then drove the schedule of activities that had to occur. Out of this process fell clarity, the more concise construct of the essential mission for the 36th Battalion plan. Its precise purposes and specific tasks.

There is an old army saying that ‘time spent on reconnaissance is time well spent’. An initial ‘map recce’ is first conducted aided by any air photographs that are to hand. This informs the undertaking of the on-the-ground physical reconnaissance, important in the assessment of terrain and developing the various courses of action. The advantages and disadvantages of each course of action are considered and compared and a decision arrived at. In this case the maps were of limited use, there were no air photographs and physical reconnaissance was restricted so as not to give the game away to any observant Gendarme or mercenary. It was nonetheless useful in confirming the obstacles that would slow the advance, disrupt their movement and impede the manoeuvre towards the objective; the Tunnel. It was a built-up area, highly suited to defence. There were open spaces, good for the defender’s observation and fields of fire, bad for the Irish troops’ cover and concealment, and of course the Gendarmerie and mercenary defenders held the key terrain, which held key advantage and upon whose capture the entire mission hinged. Consideration of the defenders’ situation would try to identify how they were physically positioned, on and near the objective, where were his strong points and of what strength and with what equipment. What were his capabilities, to avoid, and his weaknesses, to exploit? Lieutenant Colonel Hogan and his staff brainstormed the various options, seeking a preference. They asked themselves if tasked to defend the tunnel how they might organise it. Finally, Hogan gave consideration to his own troops. They were for the most part seasoned, sound, non-commissioned officers (corporals and sergeants) and young – many very young – privates, mostly inexperienced and certainly ill-prepared for what had confronted them thus far and what faced them now.

Still not recovered from the lengthy journey from Ireland, the apprehension of strange new surroundings was debilitating in itself, allied to the general air of nervousness, concern, tension and stress of the continued hostilities. The discomfort of having no beds and snatching a few hours sleep here and there all had a huge wearing-down effect on their physical and mental energy. However, all of them had been exposed to the almost non-stop series of incidents since their arrival and during the build-up of his plan Lieutenant Colonel Hogan knew that would make a difference, a big difference. Rather than attempting the undertaking without any experience they were well and truly ‘blooded’, some among them not gung-ho exactly, but after enduring for days the retaliatory mortar fire at Liege crossroads – some in storm drains with water up to chest height and with casualties suffered – they were keen to have a go.

The second battle of Katanga was well and truly under way and 5 December 1961 had marked a deadly new phase to the conflict. The UN had been stunned by the loss of life and now its on-the-ground lines of communications were being slowly strangled; its competence and commitment challenged; its operation’s very existence threatened. Forcefully facing up to this adversity presented an opportunity for the UN to get on the front foot and Operation Unokat would close the net around Élisabethville. Operation Sarsfield would see the Irish, as part of Operation Unokat, go after the high value target that was the Tunnel, the immediately adjacent railroad and the hospital complexes. Operation Sarsfield was about to commence. They deployed expecting a fight, and a fight was what they were about to get.

A Company in Action

With live ammunition in their weapons, the minutes and seconds ticked down. With a real ‘enemy’ ahead of them, also waiting to fire live rounds at the Irish troops, A Company was poised to become involved in large-scale action. (See map on p. viii.) Elements of the Operation had already been set in motion, but the code word for the commencement of the Irish attack: ‘Sarsfield’, had yet to be transmitted by the battalion commander. The men of A and B Companies were to move across staggered start lines, their parallel axis of advance along the railway line and Avenue des Savoniers, respectively. A Company were to advance with Nos 1 and 2 Platoons’ forward left and right, with Commandant Joe Fitzpatrick in the centre. No. 3 Platoon would advance rear right and the Company HQ, under Captain Kevin Page, rear left. Already ahead of them and forward left were B Company. C Company minus was moving behind in reserve. Both companies had already sustained casualties during the week since their arrival. The men were worn down, weary but not yet fully exhausted, and despite their tiredness were in good spirits. Nonetheless, when out beyond the point of no return, having crossed their start lines, understandably each would be contemplating the now inevitable fight and so were apprehensive – some terrified – yet all ready to face the difficulties ahead of them and enduring the strain. But all definitely on edge, their unease and concern palpable. Theirs was an ability to control this fear and suppress its effects, in a word, this was courage.

Commandant ‘Bill’ Callaghan (later Lieutenant General and Force Commander of UNIFIL 1981–86), then OC of B Company, explained:

The night of the battalion orders – the evening before the attack on the tunnel – in the battalion headquarters at Leopold Farm, there was an evident tension and anxiety, and afterwards I remember saying to myself somewhat understatedly, ‘I hope this goes well’. Nonetheless, there was also a feeling that we had been given a job and that job we were going to do. We had a shared objective, but different parallel axes of advance.