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.I get the feeling of being one of those shooting-gallery targets that go round on a conveyor belt, endlessly waiting for someone to knock it down.Trouble is, if you get knocked down here, you don't get up.Turn right at the next corner, tell the O.P.that we are moving around the waste area by the hall.This is where I suspected that the rocket was fired from, so we'll just take a look around for any evidence."Boss, there's a hole in the glass in that top window and another through the netting covering it."Bill's voice low and whispered.I look up and see that there is a flight of steps leading up.Creep up, checking for trip-wires as I go and find an open door at the top leading into a large room running the width of the hall and about twenty feet deep.The window in question has a good view of the helipad and so could have been the place for the rifles to have been fired from, but because of the back-blast from the rocket launcher, it must have been fired from the ground, possibly by the corner of the hall."Find anything down there, Bill?""Not a thing.""O.K., let's go back in.""Hello 1, this is 11, open back door, over.""1 Roger out."We move back in with the O.P.s covering us and go through the unload procedure just inside the gate.A quick de-brief and it's up to the Mess for a brew and a think about the next patrol.The first day drawing to a close in front of the T.V.with a mug of hot, sweet tea.Mind wandering.Eyes closing, to jerk open again, guiltily.Thoughts drifting in the warmth of the tiny room.The room is dirty, smelly, cold and damp.We look just like the enemy we are supposed to represent.Jeans, anoraks, boots or sneakers and the wild look that comes from being hunted.Three days of being the I.R.A.Three days of getting into the role of murderer.Three days of enjoying the total lawlessness of it all."Listen.We'll blow up the patrol tonight.One of the Saracens I think.A thunderflash in a bag of flour should do the trick.Cause a bit of a stir.Where's Jones, the little shit?" I ask, looking round at the assembled crew.There are sniggers and sidelong looks.It takes a second or two to sink in."Leighton, go tell the dirty bugger that when he's finished fucking that W.R.A.C.he'd better get his horny ass in here.And Leighton.Come back with him." This time the place erupts.Outside there is the rumble of a passing armoured car."Get that light out.There's bound to be a patrol around." The light goes out and we sit in the darkness; waiting; listening.Outside there is the unmistakable tread of Army boots.There is the rustle in the doorway and I can see in my mind a soldier standing tucked in, rifle at the ready, scanning the windows and the roof-tops.Waiting just as we are waiting.He moves on.Inside the house there is an audible sigh of relief."Right, we'll meet up again at 2200 hrs.at the junction of Grosvenor Road and the Shankill.Bombers, you know who you are.Jones and Leighton are the diversion, the rest of you, as soon as the bomb goes off, start something with the troops that arrive on the scene.The object being to ensure that the bombers escape.You know your routes you two?" A nod of assent and then they all disperse.Some out of the back door, some through the tunnel in the roof connecting several houses and a couple remain here with me.Including the W.R.A.C.Private.The waiting isn't going to be that dull after all.Later, and we are silent shadows creeping through the darkened cold wet streets.Listen to every sound.Hope you've calculated the timings of the patrols correctly.A scrape of a tin can over to the left.Stop.Melt into a shadow and listen again.Round the corner at the end of the street, the sight of a rifle barrel nosing its way round the brickwork.Shit.They've slipped in an extra patrol.There's nothing to do but to carry on.Up over the wall, through the garden and lie low in a shed until the patrol passes.Think.What would I do in their position? Have a back-up, that's what.But where? All the questions bouncing through my head.Right.Leave everything rest for ten minutes and then get on with it.Watch says ten to ten.It's going to be close.The other three guys with me wait silently.Hope they are learning from this.Ten minutes gone."Let's go.Keep down and keep quiet."Crawl back over the wall into the street and on towards our destination.The house I'm looking for is just up the road.The roar of a Saracen in low gear gets louder.Got to get into that bloody house.It's a sprint for the last fifty metres and we make it.Just.In the door and up the stairs to be confronted with the barrel of an M.1 carbine."Oh.It's you boss.""Hi Jimmy.A little late I'm afraid.Ran into a patrol on the way here.I think they've been tipped off that something's in the air, so to speak.""I think you're right.Do we go ahead?""Yes,"He turns to the window and waves down at the garden.The bombers are hiding behind the wall.It's like watching a movie from up here.The Saracen crawling down the street.The two bombers waiting by the wall.Waiting for the signal.Waiting.0400 hrs.May 1976.SomewhereOut thereLurkingLies ourGreatestFear."HELLO 1, THIS is 12.Contact, wait, out."The Ops.Room goes quiet and for a long ten seconds everyone holds their breath.One of the patrols down near the border has just been zapped, but so far we don't know whether it's a bomb or gunmen.The words set the adrenalin flowing and the monster in my stomach wakes and lurches around, the wait dragging on agonisingly."Who is it?" The whispered question and anxious look."Sgt.Donne's patrol, I think."In some of the eyes there is excitement, in me there is only dread, because tomorrow it could be me out there.The call goes through to TAC.for a chopper and the stand-by section are ready and waiting by the helipad, but it is going to take time before the thing arrives.Still we wait.Finally, Sgt.Donne calls through, his voice unsteady, shaky, panting between words.The patrol was attacked by an estimated five gunmen with automatic weapons from a small hill close to the border.None of the patrol were hit but one of the gunmen may have been.A loud sigh of relief goes through the Ops.Room and everyone starts to breathe normally again.The O.C.is dressed ready to go out to the scene though why he should beats me when the whole thing is over and done with, he's just going to get in the way and be a bloody nuisance."Well, we can't claim a hit without a body so we will just have to wait and see if there are any funerals in Dundalk or if someone gets admitted to the hospital there." The 2 I.C., tension relieved, tilts back on his chair smiling."Come on Clarke, you wanker, get out there.""I'm staying right here, thank you.""You're out that way tonight aren't you?""Yep, an O.P.in that derelict on the border for the next five days.That's why I'm not going out there now!" With that, I give him the two-fingered sign and go off to grab hold of Bill to let him know the timings for the patrol tonight.There really has been too much excitement already today."Quack, quack." Denny, my platoon Sgt., creeping up on my day-dreaming."What was all the fuss about, boss?""Eddie just got jumped on the border by some gunmen.No casualties but he didn't sound too happy.""Oh well, such is life.When are you out tonight?""A Puma's coming in at 2200 hrs.to pick us up.We get dropped off about two thousand metres away and march in to the O.P.site
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