5 killed

My day started early, I'd been told that an abducted child I'm trying to locate was going to turn up at the maternal grandparent's home, a cottage in a remote moorland area. I lay in wait, snuggled close to a dry stone wall high above the property to my front and on the edge of a farm field to the rear. KJ and myself took up the FOP (forward observation position) with two of our colleagues some distance away in the LUP (lying up position). It was cold, barely above freezing. It was wet, ground water and drizzling rain. It was grey, slate grey with a pigeon grey sky.

I'd heard on the early news about the soldiers killed by a rogue element in Afghanistan.

My current undercover position and the news merged and forced my thoughts back to the early seventies. I was a soldier then, in a similar position. I was on duty, undercover, watching and gathering evidence on the movements of the IRA. It was a dark wet day as well. I was working with elements of the 2nd Royal Regiment of Fusiliers and UDR (Ulster Defence Regiment). My FOP was within an electric sub-station. scattered around were my colleagues, some covering other FOP's and others in LUP's. As I lay there I was suddenly overwhelmed by silence, it was as though the world had stopped, there really was no sound that I could distinguish. My senses were telling me from within that something was about to happen. Moments later I responded as my ears took in the sound of several high velocity shots. As the echo died the sound of a man in pain flooded into me. More shots rang out. I scanned the area but saw nothing. I moved my position, glanced around a huge piece of electric machinery and viewed the site's entry gate. Unusually it was swinging open in the breeze. It should have been locked. The breeze was blowing as if to keep it shut but it was halted, hitting something, then bouncing back only to be driven again by the breeze. I was in the prone firing position and needed to stretch my neck to view the obstruction. In the opening lay the body of one of the UDR guys, writhing in pain. There was no cover between the two of us. I thought about staying where I was but couldn't. I held my breath with fear, stood up and ran to his side. A shot rang out. I threw myself against the casualty. Looking out of the gate I could see the figure of one of the Fusiliers disappearing into the cover of a housing estate. I was confused, where the hell was he going? The shooting stopped, my colleagues joined me. Within minutes I could see a helicopter making it's way to our position. When it landed medics spilled out ready to care for the casualty. No need, to late!

The drone of the helicopter carrying the dead still fills my head. Today, as I recalled my past,the sound seemed even more deafening, then I realised that the farm tractor was on its way down the field towing a trailer spreading manure. In the shit again, I thought.

The fusilier? He had been recruited by the IRA, trained at great expense by the British tax payer and was every bit as much of a rogue element as today's Afghan killer.