Sniper Fire in Belfast. Shaun Clarke
van in Belfast. This led to the revelation that the company that owned the van, the so-called Four Square Laundry, was actually an MRF front, collecting clothing in suspect districts for forensic examination.’
‘Proper dirty laundry,’ Jock McGregor said, winning a few more laughs.
‘Yes,’ Cranfield said, ‘it was that all right. Anyway, those two incidents caused a stir and brought an end to the MRF, which was disbanded early in 1973. But it soon became apparent that as the police, whether in or out of uniform, were soft targets for gunmen, a viable substitute for the MRF was required. This would require men who could penetrate the republican ghettos unnoticed, and who possessed keen powers of observation, quick wits, and even quicker trigger fingers.’
‘That’s us!’ the normally quiet Danny Porter, ‘Baby Face’, said with a shy grin.
‘Not at that time,’ Cranfield replied, ‘though certainly the training officer for the new team was then serving with 22 SAS. In fact, the new unit, formed at the end of 1973, was 14 Intelligence Company. While it was the job of that company to watch and gather information about the IRA, the SAS’s function was to act on the intelligence supplied by them and take action when necessary.’
‘Excuse me, boss,’ Taff Burgess asked, putting his hand in the air like an eager schoolboy. ‘Are you saying that 14 Intelligence Company never gets involved in overt action against the IRA? That they’ve never had, or caused, casualties?’
‘No. They have suffered, and have caused, casualties – but only when spotted and usually only when the terrorist has fired first. Their function is to gather intelligence – not to physically engage the enemy. That’s our job. To do it within the law, however, we have to know exactly who and what we’re involved with here in the province.’
Cranfield nodded at the Army sergeant standing beside the intelligence officer. The sergeant started distributing his manila folders to the SAS troopers sitting in the chairs. ‘The information I’m about to give you,’ Cranfield said, ‘is contained in more detail in those folders. I want you to read it later and memorize it. For now, I’ll just summarize the main points.’
He paused until his assistant, Sergeant Lovelock, had given out the last of the folders and returned to his desk.
‘At present there are fourteen British Army battalions in Northern Ireland, each with approximately 650 men, each unit deployed in its own Tactical Area of Responsibility, or TAOR, known as a “patch”. As the RUC’s B Special Reserve were highly suspect in the eyes of the Republicans, their responsibilities have been handed over to the Ulster Defence Regiment, a reserve unit composed in the main of local part-timers. Unfortunately the UDR is already deeply unpopular with the Catholics, who view its members as hard-line loyalists. Most Army commanders are no more impressed by the UDR, believing, like me, that it’s dangerous to let part-time Protestant reservists into hard Republican areas.’
‘Are they reliable otherwise?’ Ricketts asked.
‘Many of us feel that the Royal Ulster Constabulary is more reliable than the UDR, though we certainly don’t believe policemen are capable of taking complete charge of security. This is evidenced by the fact that RUC officers often refuse to accompany the Army on missions – either because they think it’s too risky or because they feel that their presence would antagonize the locals even more than the Army does.’
‘That sounds bloody helpful,’ Jock McGregor said sourly.
‘Quite. In fact, in strongly Republican areas the RUC have virtually ceded authority to us. They do, however, have two very important departments: the Criminal Investigations Department, or CID, in charge of interrogating suspects and gathering evidence after major incidents; and the Special Branch, or SB, which runs the informer networks vital to us all. They also have a Special Patrol Group, or SPG, with mobile anti-terrorist squads trained in the use of firearms and riot control. We can call upon them when necessary.’
‘What about the police stations?’ Lampton asked.
‘Sixteen divisions – rather like Army battalions – in total. Some are grouped into each of three specific regions – Belfast, South and North – each with an assistant chief constable in charge, with as much authority as the Army’s three brigadiers. Those three chief constables report in turn to the chief constable at RUC HQ at Knock, east Belfast.’
‘Who calls the shots?’ Jock McGregor asked.
‘The regular Army and UDR battalions are divided between three brigade HQs – 29 Brigade in the Belfast area, 8 Brigade in Londonderry and 3 Brigade in Portadown, the latter responsible for covering the border. The Brigade Commanders report to the Commander Land Forces, or CLF, at Lisburn, the top Army man in Ulster. He has to answer to the General Officer Commanding, or GOC, who, though an Army officer, is also in charge of the RAF and Royal Navy detachments in the province. He’s also responsible for co-ordination with the police and ministers. The HQNI, or Headquarters Northern Ireland, is located in barracks at Lisburn, a largely Protestant town just outside Belfast that includes the HQ of 39 brigade. Regarding the role of 14 Intelligence Company in all this, I’ll hand you over to Captain Dubois.’
Slightly nervous about talking to a bunch of men who would feel resentful about working with the regular Army, Captain Dubois coughed into his fist before commencing.
‘Good morning, gentlemen.’ When most of the Troop just stared steadily at him, deliberately trying to unnerve him, he continued quickly: ‘Like the SAS, 14 Intelligence Company is formed from soldiers who volunteer from other units and have to pass a stiff selection test. It recruits from the Royal Marines as well as the Army, though it looks for resourcefulness and the ability to bear the strain of long-term surveillance, rather than the physical stamina required for the Special Air Service.’
Applause, cheers and hoots of derision alike greeted Dubois’ words. Still not used to the informality of the SAS, he glanced uncertainly at Cranfield, who grinned at him, amused by his nervousness.
‘The unit has one detachment with each of the three brigades in Ulster,’ Dubois continued. ‘Each consists of twenty soldiers under the command of a captain. We operate under a variety of cover names, including the Northern Ireland Training Advisory Team, or NITAT, and the Intelligence and Security Group, or Int and Sy Group. Like the original MRF, most of our work involves setting up static OPs or the observation of suspected or known terrorists from unmarked Q cars. These have covert radios and concealed compartments for other weapons and photographic equipment. Most of the static OPs in Belfast are manned by our men and located in both Republican and Loyalist areas, such as Shankill, the Falls Road and West Belfast’s Turf Lodge and the Creggan. You men will be used mainly for OPs in rural areas and observation and other actions in Q cars here in Belfast. You will, in effect, be part of 14 Intelligence Company, doing that kind of work, initially under our supervision, then on your own.’
‘Armed?’ Danny Porter asked quietly.
‘Yes. With weapons small enough to be concealed. These include the 9mm Browning High Power handgun and, in certain circumstances, small sub-machine-guns.’
‘What’s our brief regarding their use?’
‘Your job is observation, not engagement, though the latter isn’t always avoidable. Bear in mind that you won’t be able to pass yourselves off as locals, eavesdropping in Republican bars or clubs. Try it and you’ll soon attract the curiosity of IRA sympathizers, some as young as fourteen, looking as innocent as new-born babies, but almost certainly in the IRA youth wing. If one of those innocents speaks to you, you can rest assured that he’ll soon be followed by a hard man of more mature years. Shortly after the hard man comes the coroner.’
Thankfully, the men laughed at Dubois’ sardonic remark, encouraging him to continue in a slightly more relaxed manner.
‘For that reason we recommend that you don’t leave your Q car unless absolutely necessary. We also recommend that you don’t try using an Irish accent. If you’re challenged, say no more than: “Fuck off!” And say it with conviction.’ When the men laughed again, Dubois said: ‘I