Soldiering Against Subversion. Dan Harvey
From an Irish Defence Forces perspective, it was manpower, equipment, procedures and training that made Internal Security Operations possible during the Troubles. Skills, expertise and experience made them successful. Organisationally, it was all about capacity and capabilities; operationally, it was all about command and control; individually, it was all about commitment and courage. Soldiering against subversion required dedicated people prepared to withstand difficulty and hardship, poor pay and conditions, and yet be prepared to risk their lives in the process. The ‘What’ of government security policy was the preserve of the politicians, the ‘How’ of its implementation the problem of the security forces.
The North of Ireland had begun to fall apart, and from a starting point of chronic underinvestment and lack of preparedness the Irish security forces, despite the pressure of events, had to prevent the Republic going the same way. Mostly, this security forces’ involvement was undramatic and their presence, posture and persistence went largely unnoticed and certainly unheralded, yet it was absolutely crucial. To disrupt the danger and threat from the IRA, to counter the fear and intimidation and to reduce the harm and hazard from the ‘balaclava bandits’ required competent people with a serious purposefulness. In the case of the Defence Forces, this critical commitment was neither adequately remunerated nor acknowledged. The Troubles were grim, forbidding and severe times, best forgotten and put out of mind; only omitted along with them has been the unwavering loyalty, the steadfast reliability and the staunch patriotism of the Defence Forces. To read this book is to understand the need for an army.
I began working on Soldiering Against Subversion two years before the fiftieth anniversary of the outbreak of the Troubles, generally regarded to be 5 October 1968, and it is a book about – in a word – recognition. The recognition, as genuine, valid and worthy, of the contribution of the Defence Forces to the Irish State during the period. For the first time, it describes this involvement from the point of view of the Defence Forces, a slant largely absent in accounts to date. It places their extensive effort in context and presents a reasoned analysis of the Aid to the Civil Power application against the alarmingly chaotic and disorderly rhythm of the continually challenging circumstances presented from 1969 to 1998. This book is necessary because it is too easy to forget those difficult days and it is dangerous to do so, because the complexity of the fractured identity that was at the essence of the Troubles in a sense still remains to be resolved today. The Defence Forces played a crucial part in its containment.
The Defence Forces defended Ireland, protected its people and secured the safe functioning of the State’s institutions against those who wished to undermine it. The Irish Republic was a sovereign independent state, with an elected parliament and courts, police and army to enforce the rule of law. The Provisional IRA (PIRA) sent out foot soldiers to wreak havoc, bomb indiscriminately, and kill without compunction. They had to be stopped and the Defence Forces contributed hugely in this regard. Ex-Taoiseach Liam Cosgrave put it succinctly, and for all his retired life was consistent in his conviction, that ‘except for the Garda Síochána and the Defence Forces there would have been no state’. To further explain the role of the Irish Defence Forces during the turbulent period of the Troubles, I sought the advice and assistance of those who were there, real experiences from Irish soldiers putting themselves in the line of fire in defence of the State.
What or who caused the Troubles will be an enduring historical argument to be debated for decades to come. However, the hard fact was they had dangerous and tragic consequences and the Irish Defence Forces had to deal with them in a rapidly deteriorating security situation. In order to curtail the impact of the violence, both perpetrated and threatened, they had to initially bridge equipment, establishment, experiential and expertise gaps and thereafter implement a highly nuanced Internal Security Policy. The role of the Defence Forces in maintaining the stability of the state was critical; the importance of having good people crucial. It is their voice that gives this account perspective and professionalism, and, in all its honesty, truth and detail, a large degree of authenticity.
To ensure this bone fide reliability accurately imparts a true sense of the situation, it was imperative that interviewees could do so without the constraint of knowing they would be directly quoted, so that they could more freely give an honest, correct, responsible, considered and not sensationalised sense of their experiences. I believe this to have been achieved. Many were happy to be attributed but, finally, whether recollections have been credited or not, the judgement to do so was mine. It is my sincere hope that additional historical research into these fraught and frightening times is conducted in future years so that the valuable contribution of the Defence Forces is recognised as it richly deserves.
Prologue
It was a mild mid-October morning in 1975 when 7-year-old Fionnuala Buckley stepped out of her front door at St Evin’s Park, Monasterevin, Co. Kildare, in the carefree, lackadaisical manner of children happy in their familiar surroundings. Sent by her mother to the nearby local shop for milk for the family breakfast, she had only taken a few steps from the doorway when she suddenly stopped short. Standing in front of her in camouflage gear and a bulky flak jacket was an Irish soldier, cradling a large black rifle in his hands and with a radio set on his back, the 3-foot long antenna pointing towards an otherwise normal sky. It was a lot to take in for the little girl, especially when she noticed he was not alone. There were other soldiers around, having taken up covering positions overnight behind garden walls, at the corners of houses and in the recesses of nearby doorways. Fionnuala’s familiar surroundings were suddenly frighteningly unfamiliar; there was uncertainty in her normally certain world and her safe and sheltered surroundings no longer seemed so secure.
Unsure what this sudden appearance of the soldiers meant, Fionnuala sensed something serious was happening. The normally sedate atmosphere of the Park was now one of stark alarm and she turned around, heading back indoors to tell her mother, Breda, what she had seen. Preoccupied with getting breakfast ready and not understanding what her daughter was getting at, the unaware Breda told her to ‘get back out and get the milk’. However, anxious and concerned, Fionnuala persisted with her story until, convinced that something was wrong, Breda herself ventured outdoors, taking in the strange scene for herself. Outside a cordon of serious-looking soldiers were focusing their attentions on a nearby house, the atmosphere apprehensive.
Venturing out, Breda joined her neighbours, who were congregating together on a corner at a safe distance from the incident unfolding before them. Overnight, the siege of 1410, Saint Evin’s Park had begun. The Gardaí (police) and armed soldiers had surrounded the house, blocking access to the area, after provisional IRA man Eddie Gallagher and his accomplice, Marion Coyle, barricaded themselves into the upper storey of the semi-detached Park house, together with their kidnap victim, Limerick-based Dutch industrialist, Dr Tiede Herrema. A nationwide search operation had eventually led to this rural town in Co. Kildare. The siege had only just begun, but in the nearby Irish Defence Forces Curragh Camp soldiers were planning, making preparations and practising for a possible house assault. The Troubles, the Northern Ireland conflict, had suddenly, shockingly, arrived to a shaken Monasterevin.
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Two and a half years earlier, in darkness and with a heavy Atlantic swell and rough seas prevailing off Helvic Harbour, south-west of Dungarvan, Co. Waterford, the mission for the Irish Naval Service was to locate, shadow and then intercept what intelligence services suspected was a ship approaching Ireland carrying a cargo of arms for the Provisional IRA. ‘Operation Dandelion’ was set in motion and three Irish Naval Ships, the LÉ Deirdre, LÉ Fòla and LÉ Gráinne, positioned themselves to spring a trap inside Irish territorial waters. But first it was a waiting game, surprise would be the key to success. The southern coast from Cork Harbour to Carnsore Point was already well covered, and for now it was all about remaining in position, watching the radar screens and preparing to intervene as circumstances dictated.
For a day and a half nothing happened, then a shadowing aircraft radioed a probable sighting, which LÉ Fòla confirmed four hours later on the 12-mile limit off the Saltee Islands. The net began to close. All three ships ‘blacked out’, hiding themselves from the approaching vessel, and at maximum radar range kept the approaching MV Claudia under surveillance throughout the night. Claudia made no move into territorial