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NONE SHALL DIVIDE US

I SPENT TEN YEARS SECONDED TO THE RED HAND COMMANDO, BUT IN 1984 I DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO REACTIVATE MYSELF WITH THE UDA, THE ORGANISATION I HAD SWORN ALLEGIANCE TO BACK IN MY TEENS. I had an interesting and informative time with the Red Hand, but I needed to get back to the UDA. My all-out war with Republicans was shifting up a gear. There were rumblings of a new joint agreement, a political process being cooked up by Whitehall bigwigs. There were even rumours that Dublin wanted a say in how Ulster was governed. I knew it was time for me to come in from the cold and my first port of call was Andy Tyrie, the Supreme Commander of the UDA.

Tyrie’s office was in UDA headquarters in Gawn Street, on the corner of the Newtownards Road in East Belfast. Before I went in I had a good look at the buildings facing and overlooking the premises. One caught my eye. It was a flat above a bakery and it looked vacant because it had whited-out windows, but in one corner was a clean spot about the size of a fifty-pence piece. It intrigued me and I mentally noted it.

Surprisingly, the main door of UDA headquarters hadn’t any security features. It wasn’t even locked. Anybody, rival Loyalists or a Provo hit squad, could have walked in off the street, pushed open the door, climbed the stairs and shot their way into Tyrie’s office. Inside the only other person present was Billy Elliot, brigadier of East Belfast. I stood at the desk and asked to see Tyrie. I was told that an impromptu meeting was impossible and I needed an appointment. I raised my voice, insisting I wanted to see Tyrie. Again I was refused. So I jumped the desk, but before I could even put my hand on the door, Tyrie was standing in front of me with a bewildered look on his face.

I spoke first. ‘My name is Michael Stone. You don’t know me. I am a former member of the UDA and although I have not been active for a few years I have always regarded myself as a UDA man.’

Tyrie asked me what I had in mind. I told him I wanted to return to military action in a unit based outside the city. I said Belfast, especially the east of the city, was out of the question. I gave him a telephone number where he could contact me and told him I expected to hear from him within days. Tyrie said he couldn’t help me personally but that he would let the ‘right people’ know about my enquiries. Within forty-eight hours I had a phone number; it was the Mid-Ulster brigadier’s. I met the brigadier and told him I wanted to assassinate known IRA terrorists and Sinn Fein activists. He told me that was ‘very ambitious’ and he would prefer me to concentrate on fund-raising. I told him to forget it. I said if I rob banks, then I keep the cash for myself.

I kept a low profile for four weeks before going back to see Tyrie. Nothing had changed at Gawn Street: UDA headquarters was still an open building and could have been attacked at any time. Tyrie said he was sorry that the contact didn’t work out. He said he would put me in contact with others. As I left I told him he needed to sort out his in-house security. I explained that the building was open to attack, his life was compromised and he needed to check the building opposite with the whited-out windows. I told him it looked suspicious. Tyrie did have the flat above the bakery looked at. It was empty, but he later discovered the security forces did have a camera on UDA HQ, monitoring all movement of people coming and going.

Within weeks I had a new associate. He was the brigadier for South Belfast, John McMichael, and our paths first crossed at a venue in that part of the city. He was at a fund-raising event for prisoners and their families and I was at a different function. I refused to work with time-wasters or the tea-and-biscuits paramilitaries. I wanted to work with professionals. McMichael was a professional and we got on instantly. I knew I would enjoy working with him.

I am proud to call John McMichael my friend. He was a giant among Loyalist men but sadly he didn’t get to fulfil his potential. He was an astute military and political man and for many years he played a magnificent double-hander as the UFF’s Commander and also as leader of the UDA’s foray into political activity. As brigadier for South Belfast he often discussed tactics and operations with me. We also discussed politics. McMichael knew that in the long term it was going to be politics and dialogue that would solve the Ulster problem. He was a man ahead of his time.

I am also proud of the fact that this solid and dependable soldier was one of my military associates. He was the only UDA man who had my home telephone number. We didn’t meet regularly, both preferring impromptu arrangements. We spoke in code and devised a language based on doggy talk such as ‘the dog’s off his food’ or ‘the dog’s gone walkies’ to disguise our work. If I needed anything, McMichael would provide it because he knew I would use it. He knew I wasn’t all talk and no action. His base was a snooker hall in Lisburn, County Antrim. It was from this location that I was given munitions used in some of my operations. McMichael never offered me ‘sanctions’, or targets. He never offered me intelligence. He never said, ‘I want this man killed’ or ‘This man is your target.’ Instead he would ask if I was operating in his area and, if so, would offer assistance. Sometimes he even pulled back his own men so as not to jeopardise my operations. We did discuss targets and we did discuss names seen on montages and intelligence files, but he never, ever handed me a file and told me that person had to be sanctioned.

I was given information on potential targets from the UFF’s intelligence officers. The same intelligence was shared throughout the UFF, so the files I saw were also seen elsewhere. They always arrived in the same way, in an A4 brown manila envelope. I wore gloves when I was handling them. Inside were video grabs, pictures, Ordnance Survey maps, aerial shots and documents. There were also RUC mugshots and photographs of targets taken in prison. The files were very professional. I never questioned where they came from but it was obvious UFF intelligence officers had connections with the security forces. It wasn’t my position to grill my colleagues and I never wanted to question where the intelligence came from. I accepted what was on offer and made the best use of it.

From day one I made it very clear to McMichael that I wouldn’t undertake just any sanction. The target had to have Republican history and be a heavy hitter. He had to have a profile or hold rank. I insisted on having watertight evidence that all potential targets were active in the PIRA or Sinn Fein. I told him I wouldn’t be sectarian and I wouldn’t kill Catholics just for being Catholic. I said if I wanted to be sectarian I could have picked from hundreds of innocent Catholics walking the streets of Belfast. I told McMichael I wanted the IRA men and their political representatives in Sinn Fein. He laughed and said he liked my passion and commitment. There was no question of the UFF targeting innocent Catholics, McMichael pledged. He said the Catholic community had nothing to fear. I promised I would never be indiscriminate or sectarian, unlike the PIRA. I would never place a no-warning bomb among innocent civilians or randomly spray a place filled with nationalists.