IRISH MY ERSE!

FROM THE IRISH DEMOCRAT JULY 1989

TELLING IT LIKE THE MARINES

It'll be twenty years this August since British troops were deployed on the streets and in the fields of the North of Ireland, invoked under a procedure known as coming to the aid of the Civil Power. By the time this is published the Royal Marines will be back. Curious as to their utility in saving the Irish from themselves and in illustrating the Thatcher principle that the Six Counties are as British as Finchley, I have been perusing "The Making of a Royal Marine Commando" by Nigel Foster, a journalist and ex-Marine, published in 1987 by Sidgwick and Jackson, and with a preface by Major General Julian Thompson, who led a Brigade of Marines in the Malvinas.

It's well illustrated and well written, though I  don't think it will have sold as well in West Belfast as Finchley. Of its one hundred and ninety pages about three deal specifically with Ireland.

It may surprise Bishop Cathal Daly, for instance, that a senior NCO with long experience of the North could opine that it was regarded as no sin for a good Catholic girl to sleep with one of the gunmen. If true, the IRA must be overburdened with recruits, and if good Catholic girls THINK it true, it must play hell with Provo marksmanship. Which would put them at a disadvantage against the Royal Marines, whose specialist snipers play a key role in keeping the peace:-

"One story tells about the sniper who had been inserted into his hide with a rifle he was using for the first time. As luck would have it, he was able to shoot a known terrorist armed with a gun -the unfortunate man walked around the wrong corner at the wrong time. The sniper called up a team to get him out. When they arrived, they all walked towards where the body of the terrorist still lay on the pavement,a bullet wound over one eye. 'Good shot', said one of the Marines. The sniper merely grunted,took a closer look at the body and readjusted his sights. For a facing shot,snipers aim at the point between the eyes. He'd been out by two inches."

The Marines pride themselves on initiative, and the following is given as a prime example:-

"One time, a patrol came across an attempted rape. The sergeant in charge recognised the girl as the daughter of one of the IRA godfathers. His men were all for dropping the would-be rapist from a second-storey window a few times, before turning him over to the police. But the sergeant ordered them to let him go -which they did, having first established his identity. Then, with the girl in tow they set off for the pub where her father could usually be found. 'It was,' said one of the Marines 'the kind of pub where you had to walk in and immediately cock your weapon, otherwise someone would shoot you. So we did, and there was the girl's father looking daggers at us. So the sergeant went up to him and had explained what had happened. The daughter told her old man it was all true, and we left. As we went out the door, a voice said, 'thanks Royal, we won't forget.'  And they didn't - the rest of our tour was the quietest we had ever known it. As for the would-be rapist? 'Oh, he was found floating in some canal or other a week or so later.' "

A rattling good yarn, that. Consider the cast. Mick the Bungling Rapist, an example of Irish incompetence. Colleen, the Damsel in Distress. Bluff Tommy Atkins, ready to avenge her honour. Sergeant Streetwise, canny old sweat. Paddy the Godfather, presiding over a pub full of Provos, Ball o' Malt in one hand, Ball o' Semtex in t'other. But then compare the handling of the affair with what would pass for the norm in Finchley.

Mick the Bungling Rapist should have been taken prisoner and his life protected before being passed to the Police who should have had him dealt with by a Crown Court.Colleen should have been passed to a sympathetic policewoman, and seen by a Doctor and appropriate counsellors. Not paraded in an alehouse after such an experience. And who, in their right mind, would hand an accused person over to the victim's family, even if that family were pacifists? It would seem, if the story is true, that the Marines saved their own skins for the price of the would-be rapist's life.

One way or another, it puts the role of the British Forces, and those who published or read this book with approval, in the light seen by a Ford manager, himself a hardnosed American boss, in Cork during the 'Tan War. The Crown Forces had just searched his factory for IRA men. Addressing the leader of the raiders he said:-

"You call yourselves the Custodians of the Peace. By Christ, you'd make any man want to break it!"

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