Immediate Action (29 page)

    Sadly, later in the day, we discovered there had been a casualty, Frederick Jackson. An innocent victim of the fight against terrorism, he'd been hit with a round from one of our weapons during the firefight.

    The van was later found abandoned in one of the culde-sacs. The boys had legged it cross-country before hi jacking another car for their getaway. Inside the van were a shotgun, a radio, and empty cases from an automatic weapon. The players had been there to kill-at long range with the automatic or, if they had the chance, close up with the shotgun.

    Some lessons were learned. We had been needing a large-caliber weapon that could be easily concealed for our type of work; the SLR was too big and bulky for use in cars, and in any case 5.56 didn't give us enough stopping power if we were firing out of one car into another.

    The short-term answer, until the 7.62 G3s arrived from Heckler & Koch, was to acquire some Argentinian folding stock FNs that the Regiment had brought back from the Falklands. They did the business very nicely.

    Later on that tour we had a "fast ball."

    There were a lot of close-quarter shoots going on at the time in County Fermanagh. The players would come up to a front door, knock, and just barge in and shoot as soon as somebody answered. The targets were mostly R.U.C or U.D.R people; whether on foot or by vehicle, the players would get back to safety. What we planned to do was split ourselves up over a period of a few nights to cover a number of main targets, but this time we'd be waiting on the premises.

    The tactic might involve a combination of being in the house and being the one who opened the door or being outside and watching them make their approach. It all depended on the terrain and the makeup of the house, garden, and outbuildings.

    There were four of us in one house, sitting with the main target.

    Of all the possible targets we could think of, this one was the most likely to be hit. It was a large bungalow in the middle of nowhere, the nearest neighbor being over a quarter of a mile away.

    Frank was in charge. The rest of the team was me, Eno, and a rupert called Boss S. To avoid suspicion, we had decided to make it look as if we were a vanload of friends turning up with six-packs of beer and big bags of fun-size Mars bars.

    He was a great old boy in his forties, full of jokes and totally nonchalant about the situation. This might have had something to do with the fact that everywhere we went in the house there seemed to be a shotgun hanging off a wall ready to give somebody the good news.

    "Let's get the kettle on, boys, and we'll sit down and watch some television. I've had this for years and years: They say there's a threat on me, and all you lads come down and look after us for a couple of days. I wouldn't take it too seriously if I were you. But it'll be interesting to see what happens. It's a cold night; I can't see them coming out in this."

    It was a beautiful house. The kitchen was boiling hot, with a Rayburn going full tilt on one side and a huge kettle steaming away on one of the hot plates. He shooed away the flask and sandwiches he saw me bring in. "Forget that horrible stuff," he said. "I'll do us a decent cup of tea, and there's pie and things cooking in the Rayburn." . It was a still and icy cold night. I was so glad to be inside, stuffing my face with pies and tea, instead of lying in an OP in a bush.

    Frank and Boss S were watching the telly with him in the front room. Eno and I were in the kitchen, sitting in armchairs that we'd pulled up near the large double-glazed back door. All the lights were off; nobody would be able to see us. We sat with our feet up on pouffes, our weapons resting across t'he arms of the chairs. It was a brilliant way to go to war.

    There was no way the players would come to the front of the house; it was one of those places where the front door had never been used.

    From our armchairs we had a grandstand view of the approach that we reckoned they'd use. They were very unlikely to drive in; they'd be coming across country and entering via the back. If they did, they wouldn't be exiting.

    Eno whispered, "I'm gagging for a fag."

    "Why the fuck do you smoke?" I said. "It costs too much, and you stink."

    "Yeah, but it's good for the training. The old kickstart. I'll give it up one of these days."

    The still of the night was shattered by Fraser coming on the net to us:

    "Everybody, sort your shit out,"TCG wants you down at the Drumrush Lodge now. Nobody knows what's going on, but everyone needs to get down there. I'll give you sitreps if anything comes in. Get down there-now!"

    Frank said, "Roger that. We're on our way."

    We got our kit together and went to the van.

    Frank said, "Boss, you map-read, I'll drive. Andy and Eno, in the back."

    The U.D.R boy waved us off a- nd said, "Don't worry about me. I've got more shotguns and Mars bars than you can shake a stick at. See you later."

    Fraser came back on the net: "A few minutes ago a woman phoned the R.U.C station at Kesh. She said, 'Listen carefully, this is the Fermanagh Brigade of the IRA.

    There are a number of blast incendiaries in the Drumrush Lodge Hotel.

    The reason for this is that the Drumrush Lodge serves the bastards of the security forces."

    " The weather was horrendous. The mist was heavy, 226 with visibility down to no more than twenty to thirty meters, and ice on the road was slowing everybody down. As soon as we went over about 30 mph, we started skidding. It was better just to slow down, take the vehicle to a maximum speed of about 25 mph; at least we would get there, not crash and lose 25 percent of the troop's effectiveness.

    We could hear on the net that the other two cars were now in the area of the hotel and starting to search. One of the suspicious vehicles in that area that we knew to look out for was a blue van, possibly of foreign make.

    Eno said, "I bet it's a fucking come-on." Maybe the boys wanted us in the area because they had planned a party.

    The Boss was map-reading with a small Maglite torch: "Down here, turn left."

    The car slithered around the bend. Frank said, "No point rushing.

    Let's just trogon; we'll get there eventually."

    Then we heard: "Stand by, we have a possible here, wait out."

    Everybody shut up now, 'waiting to hear what happened next.

    Al, Eddie, and Clive were in one of the cars and drove past a blue Toyota van parked up on another road just off the Drumrush Lodge.

    Everyone apart from the driver was keeping right down; they didn't want to put anyone off their work. They came ' back on the net: "It's parked up, no lights, no movement, but the door is slightly open. It looks like something's going down."

    Ken was on the net: "Block the road. We'll stake it out and see what turns up."

    His team was now at the other end of the road. The van wasn't going to go anywhere; with luck the area was contained. However, we still didn't know what was going on.

    Clive's team were out of their car and Al put out the caltrops, spiked chains that would stop a vehicle by blowing the tires out.

    Ken was on the net to Fraser: "Is there any area that I've left?"

    He obviously wanted to know if there was any road or track between the two cars that they hadn't seen.

    "No, that's okay, everything's covered."

    They stopped and listened. Sound travels much more at night and even further on cold ones.

    As we slithered along as fast as we could on the ice, I pictured Eddie listening in the fog as he tried to learn what was happening around the car. He'd be opening his jaw to take out any noises of swallowing that he made with his mouth and leaning his ear to the area.

    Eddie could hear something, but he needed it confirmed: "Clive, listen to this." He came to Eddie and turned his radio off so that there was no interference from his earpiece.

    Someone was walking down the road. In the freezing fog this was wrong.

    "Stand still, and put up your hands where I can see them!" Eddie shouted. "This is the security forces!"

    The walker was about ten meters away and Eddie had decided that that was close enough. He called out just loud enough for this walker to hear, not loud enough, he hoped, to alert anyone else further afield.

    "It's okay, it's only me!" The boy sounded as if he was flapping good style; he was hoping no doubt that his challengers were just a local army patrol so he'd have time to think of something or get some backup.

    "Shut up, stand still or I will fire-do you understand?"

    By now Clive had his HKS3 in his shoulder and was starting to move forward.

    The boy ran.

    Al moved to the back of the car to get a Schermuly flare from the boot.

    He fired it into the air, and night turned into foggy day.

    Clive and Eddie fired to the side of the boy as he ran over a ditch and fence and into a field. Night viewing aids were of limited value in fog. They were going to lose him; they had to do something.

    From Ken we heard: "Contact, contact, wait out."

    We started to get sparked up. The Boss said, "Fucking hell, it's on! We need to get there as fast as we can."

    Frank said, "It's pointless rushing. We'll get there."

    I knew Frank was right, but I felt helpless in the backseat.

    Ken's team didn't know any more than we did; they would not move forward in case of a blue-on-blue (friendly fire). If Clive and Eddie needed any help, they would call for it.

    All this time two other members of the PIRA gang had been no more than five meters away from Clive's team in the car. They must have heard it stop, and remained hidden. As the Schermuly went up and Clive and Eddie started to fire, so did they-at Al.

    Clive and Eddie had got the runner. He quite sensibly stopped as the Schermuly was doing its job and he knew that he was in the shit.

    "Bring your hands up and turn towards me. Now walk towards me."

    Clive was giving commands, but the boy wasn't listening. He got dragged onto the road and put facedown.

    "I am going to search you," Clive said. "If you move, you will be shot, do you understand?" Eddie shouted for Al to bring some plasticuffs so they could immobilize him until the R.U.C arrived.

    ' We were nearly there now and telling Ken the direction of our approach so he could put us in where he wanted. The area was in darkness again.

    Al hadn't responded to their request, so both men dragged the prisoner to the car.

    Eddie said to Clive: "Take my weapon. I'll get in the back for the cuffs."

    He handed it over to Clive, who covered the boy on the ground.

    There wasn't a sling on Eddie's weapon so Clive was holding it in his hand.

    Next person we heard on the net was Eddie: "Hello, all call signs, we have a man down. It's Al-we need a heli. Get a helicopter in now!"

    Fraser came back: "Roger that, confirm it's Al. Confirm it's Al, over."

    He needed to make sure so that the blood type could be matched.

    Eddie came back: "Yep, it's Al. Get it in now! We need it in now!"

    We heard Ken say, "Get it in now! Fuck the weather, I want a heli in there now!"

    The scaleys were on other frequencies now, trying to get a heli up. But there was no way a helicopter could fly in freezing fog. The boss down at TCG was trying to organize to get an ambulance in.

    Fraser came back to Clive and Eddie a few minutes later. "We can't get a heli in; the fog, s down too much.

    We're trying for an ambulance, we're going to get something in for you, wait out, wait out."

    Al had taken rounds in the arm and chest. Eddie got the trauma pack out of the boot to stop the bleeding and get some fluid into him.

    This wasn't looking good: As well as Al's being down, there were more players around in the darkness.

    Ken's team were out in the fields following up, and by now so were we.

    The boy on the floor must have heard everything and considered himself deeply in the shit because he decided to go for it. He lunged at Clive in an attempt to get past him; Clive dropped Eddie's HK53 so he could use his arm to drop him.

    He was too late. The boy was gone, and so was the weapon.

    "He's got a fifty-three!" Clive shouted. "He's got a fifty-three!"

    They went after him.

    Eddie had drawn his pistol; they both fired, and the boy dropped.

    They ran forward and checked his body, 230 but there was no pulse.

    They went back to Al, but it was too late. Al Slater was dead.

    Ken came over the net, "Contact, wait out."

    Frank replied, "We're about two minutes away. I'm stopping anything moving out."

    We stopped any vehicles we saw coming from that direction. I was glad we were in uniform; there was a security base nearby, and now the shit had hit the fan I wouldn't have wanted to be in civvies.

    We saw lights coming along the road and put in an instant VCP.

    Frank went to the car as any normal soldier would, so as to not arouse any suspicion: "Hello, could I see your driving license please?

    Where are you going? Thank you, good night."

    What they didn't know was that I had an M16 pointing at the head of the driver and Eno had an LMG ready to stop the car and its passengers if there was any threat to this local army VCP.

    We started to follow up in the area, but it was going to be more luck than anything if we bumped into ihem.

    We had to cover as much ground as possible as quickly as possible.