Читать книгу Soldiering Against Subversion - Dan Harvey - Страница 11

Prologue

It was a mild mid-October morning in 1975 when 7-year-old Fionnuala Buckley stepped out of her front door at St Evin’s Park, Monasterevin, Co. Kildare, in the carefree, lackadaisical manner of children happy in their familiar surroundings. Sent by her mother to the nearby local shop for milk for the family breakfast, she had only taken a few steps from the doorway when she suddenly stopped short. Standing in front of her in camouflage gear and a bulky flak jacket was an Irish soldier, cradling a large black rifle in his hands and with a radio set on his back, the 3-foot long antenna pointing towards an otherwise normal sky. It was a lot to take in for the little girl, especially when she noticed he was not alone. There were other soldiers around, having taken up covering positions overnight behind garden walls, at the corners of houses and in the recesses of nearby doorways. Fionnuala’s familiar surroundings were suddenly frighteningly unfamiliar; there was uncertainty in her normally certain world and her safe and sheltered surroundings no longer seemed so secure.

Unsure what this sudden appearance of the soldiers meant, Fionnuala sensed something serious was happening. The normally sedate atmosphere of the Park was now one of stark alarm and she turned around, heading back indoors to tell her mother, Breda, what she had seen. Preoccupied with getting breakfast ready and not understanding what her daughter was getting at, the unaware Breda told her to ‘get back out and get the milk’. However, anxious and concerned, Fionnuala persisted with her story until, convinced that something was wrong, Breda herself ventured outdoors, taking in the strange scene for herself. Outside a cordon of serious-looking soldiers were focusing their attentions on a nearby house, the atmosphere apprehensive.

Venturing out, Breda joined her neighbours, who were congregating together on a corner at a safe distance from the incident unfolding before them. Overnight, the siege of 1410, Saint Evin’s Park had begun. The Gardaí (police) and armed soldiers had surrounded the house, blocking access to the area, after provisional IRA man Eddie Gallagher and his accomplice, Marion Coyle, barricaded themselves into the upper storey of the semi-detached Park house, together with their kidnap victim, Limerick-based Dutch industrialist, Dr Tiede Herrema. A nationwide search operation had eventually led to this rural town in Co. Kildare. The siege had only just begun, but in the nearby Irish Defence Forces Curragh Camp soldiers were planning, making preparations and practising for a possible house assault. The Troubles, the Northern Ireland conflict, had suddenly, shockingly, arrived to a shaken Monasterevin.

***

Two and a half years earlier, in darkness and with a heavy Atlantic swell and rough seas prevailing off Helvic Harbour, south-west of Dungarvan, Co. Waterford, the mission for the Irish Naval Service was to locate, shadow and then intercept what intelligence services suspected was a ship approaching Ireland carrying a cargo of arms for the Provisional IRA. ‘Operation Dandelion’ was set in motion and three Irish Naval Ships, the LÉ Deirdre, LÉ Fòla and LÉ Gráinne, positioned themselves to spring a trap inside Irish territorial waters. But first it was a waiting game, surprise would be the key to success. The southern coast from Cork Harbour to Carnsore Point was already well covered, and for now it was all about remaining in position, watching the radar screens and preparing to intervene as circumstances dictated.

For a day and a half nothing happened, then a shadowing aircraft radioed a probable sighting, which LÉ Fòla confirmed four hours later on the 12-mile limit off the Saltee Islands. The net began to close. All three ships ‘blacked out’, hiding themselves from the approaching vessel, and at maximum radar range kept the approaching MV Claudia under surveillance throughout the night. Claudia made no move into territorial waters for the whole of the following day. Then after sunset, LÉ Gráinne’s radar picked up a small contact leaving Helvic Harbour and merging with the MV Claudia. Twenty-five minutes later it was time to spring the trap. ‘Action Stations’ were sounded on all three Irish Naval ships and LÉ Fòla and LÉ Gráinne were ordered to close in on the targets. Within the hour the Irish naval pursuers dramatically revealed their presence by suddenly switching on their navigation lights, and the trap was successfully sprung.

The 290-tonne Cypriot-registered MV Claudia was boarded and no resistance was offered. However, the smaller boat made a run for it and zig-zagged away from the scene to make boarding more difficult. LÉ Fòla, whose signal to stop was ignored, fired a warning shot over the vessel with LÉ Gráinne adding three more rounds, before putting a Gemini dinghy and boarding party into the water to pursue. The officer in charge of the boarding party fired several shots from his pistol before the smaller launch was taken in charge and its three occupants detained. Before midnight on 28 March 1973, it was all over and 5-tonnes of assorted arms and ammunition were seized. The MV Claudia was escorted to Haulbowline where it was unloaded; its deadly cargo transferred to Collins Barracks, Cork and placed under guard. On 29 March, the Minister for Defence, Mr Paddy Donegan TD, and the Chief-of-Staff, Major General TL O’Carroll, were flown to Haulbowline by Air Corps helicopter and congratulated the assembled ships’ crews. This vital interception operation denied the Provisional IRA weapons, and lives were saved as a result.

***

On Friday, 17 May 1974, close to 5.30 pm, three car bombs detonated without warning within ninety seconds of each other in Parnell, Talbot and South Leinster Streets, Dublin. As each device detonated, within milliseconds the explosive material was converted into massive volumes of gas and heat causing a pressure effect that instantaneously released energy in a shockwave, resulting in indiscriminate damage, burns and injury to anyone or anything in the surrounding area. With a blinding flash and a deafening roar, the metallic frames of the cars disintegrated, sending flying shards of glass and metal shrapnel into the air that sliced through bodies, tore through flesh and ripped through bone. Rubble mixed with wreckage, debris, bodies, blood and separated limbs lay everywhere, and amidst the dead, the dying and the maimed there was utter shock, disbelief, screams and terror.

Ninety minutes later a fourth car bomb exploded in Monaghan town. Thirty-three innocent people were killed, one an unborn infant, and 258 were maimed in what was the single biggest loss of life in any one day of the Troubles. This was not Beirut or Belfast; instead the Dublin–Monaghan bombings remain the longest unsolved murder case in Irish history.

***

It was a beautiful sunny summer’s day as the joint army/Gardaí patrol responded to reports of suspicious boxes on unapproved roads off the main Cavan to Clones road on 8 June 1972. Sitting on the border road was a sturdy wooden crate, 10-metres in front of which was a rudimentary makeshift wooden sign with a primitively hand-painted four letter word: ‘Bomb’. It was all rather simple and basic in appearance. There was no Defence Forces Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) team stationed in the area, and having sealed off the area, Garda Inspector Samuel (Sam) Donegan and Second Lieutenant John Gallagher approached the box. A cord was attached to the crate, long enough to be pulled at from a distance and set off the device. Inspector Donegan pulled on the cord, toppling the crate into the ditch next to the road. Approaching gingerly, on inspection the crate was found to be empty; it was a ruse, a deception, a hoax bomb. Proceeding on to Legakelly Lane, Drumboghanagh, approximately 300-metres away, Inspector Donegan and Second Lieutenant Gallagher approached the second crate. Standing side by side, Inspector Donegan bent forward to examine it more closely when suddenly the crate exploded. Second Lieutenant Gallagher suffered severe leg injuries, but Inspector Donegan took the full force of the bomb. Rushed to Cavan Surgical Hospital, Inspector Samuel Donegan died five minutes before midnight without regaining consciousness.

***

The border and bombings, the arms seizures, searches and sieges and more, made up the lengthy, very full chronological catalogue of incidents which occurred throughout the Republic of Ireland during the three decades of the Troubles. When listed by themselves, they are a collective record far more extensive than first imagined; far more comprehensive than first considered; far more involved in their detail than first thought, and the contribution of the Defence Forces was far greater than first appreciated or understood.

Once over, the years of the Troubles were considered a period probably best forgotten. Many features, facts and events were put out of mind, with the priority being to move forward and look to the future. An unconscious consequence of this, however, was that the Defence Forces’ efforts and input in maintaining the stability of the Irish State, which many who have served feel has been minimised, overlooked and disregarded. This necessary defence was an enormously demanding and elongated effort, witnessing the difficulties and dangers of exposure to a sometimes highly charged atmosphere. More frequently, the period was an extended but very necessary operation filled with the grim drudgery of laborious and unspectacular security duties, poor pay and conditions and extended periods away from family. Notwithstanding, it was a role which gave the Defence Forces a very real purpose and their contribution is one sacrifice, of stoic calm and uncomplaining loyalty to the State, and a proud unswerving service to the nation. This is that already forgotten story.