As the Beatles song from 1967’s Sergeants Peppers had reached its 20 anniversary (it was 20 years ago today Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play…..) and I had started my 19th year I was posted to NI.

I’d joined up as a Junior Soldier when I was 16. There were many reasons but the two main ones were to follow my big brother (nearly 10 years my senior) who I saw as a god like figure and who still was still in the regiment I was to serve in and the other reason was the only alternative was to join the dole!

Like most youngsters I’d been brought up on a Saturday afternoon movie diet of such things as The Eagle Has Landed and The Guns of Navarone and I saw Army life as a real adventure. In many ways it really was. I found basic training a breeze. Been sent to Paderborn in West Germany was a dream come true. I quickly settled in to Army life and couldn’t wait to get back out on exercise (I was one of an odd bunch who preferred to be out in the field than in barracks).

Then in 86 came news; we were off to Northern Ireland. A sense of excitement went through me. I’d grown up seeing news of the ‘Troubles’. My brother had seen active service in NI and this was my chance to again follow in his foot steps.

1986 saw a step up in physical training; which culminated in 87 with a live exercise in ‘Tin City’. It was here while training in CQB that it was decided that I’d be given the optic site for my SLR and also be the FRG man due to my proficiency in shooting (strange as I thought all soldiers should be great marksmen).

My company (Support) was then split up to make up numbers for A, B and C companies. It felt strange saying good bye to a lot of good mates as we went off to join our new ‘buddies’. Since gaining my Anti Tank proficiency badge I’d worn it with a real sense of pride but going to C Company and seeing the area we’d been given in West Belfast gave me an even greater feeling pride.

Some of the most infamous streets associated with the Province were to be our turf. Divis Flats, Ballymurphy, Falls Road, Beachmount, Clonard the list went on.

A drum head service was held before leaving Paderborn by the battalion chaplain. All those going had to attend. A speech I don’t remember and the feeling ‘let’s get on with it’.

We were off.

My first recollection of Ireland was of a little old lady. She met us at the RAF base and gave each of us a little gift. I received a little calendar which I still have today.

I found out later that she had been targeted by Republican Terrorist several times and had been seriously injured on a few occasions. What guts she had. It was not the last time I would see her!

Then we were out of the hangar and in the back of a ‘Pig’. Off to North Howard Street Mill and our first look of the streets where the game was to be played.

Shit the place looked like it had been bombed in WW2. The streets were full of dogs and dog shit, bricks and glass, melted tarmac and waste ground. Tin City didn’t look like this!

Then into the ‘Mill’ we arrived. Ah a familiar site, my home in Northern England had old cotton mills aplenty. I didn’t release then that I’d never look at one in the same way every again.

Into the ‘Mill’ with kit bag and rifle; up several flights of stairs and into a room I’d share with my brick. Then handed a sweat/urine smelling flack jacket and down to the briefing room. Well I guess you’ve got to go out sometime, strike while the irons hot old boy…..

A room with no windows and the biggest map I’ve ever seen. Int briefing (what a crock). Our patrol route was given and memorized. Red Joker Brown Chimp don’t forget to do dummy radio checks. WHAT you don’t think they’ve figured out these aren’t radios for Christ sake there’s not even a pretend radio mike….. Hang on a minute we still haven’t been given out NI gloves. Fuck what do you mean there’s none. Cool it don’t say anything thing you don’t want to get in trouble!

In the yard. Four ‘men’ looking at each other waiting for the turn to go out through the Iron Gate. Mags on we step up to the sand pit and as a brick put one up the spout. I think I hope to hell I don’t let one off by mistake….

Gate open go go go. Blur, slow motion, off to the flats. My only memory of my first patrol was an old woman in a pedestrian tunnel under the Westlink saying under her breath “God Bless”. If God was real he wouldn’t let this happen I thought in reply. I’ve scoffed at religion ever since. The first of many epiphanies’ I’d have in the months to come.

The following days started to roll into each other. Sangar duty, briefs, patrols and short periods of sleep were the order of the day and night.

Surreal was the order of the day. Highlights if they can be called that were looking at the remains of a shot out car where an INLA member was shot and killed by a PIRA ‘hit’ team. The RUC member described the injuries like he was describing a football match. Finbar M blowing himself up outside RUC Station Springfield Road and watching a group of dogs running down the road with what I thought were a string of sausages but were something very different as we corded off the area.

At some stage as the days rolled together I was injured near the Ballymurphy. An event which changed me forever I still remember so clearly. It annoys me that I can’t remember the date. The calendar that the little old lady gave me when I arrived and which I’d been crossing off the days since arriving, I didn’t mark the day as different. I just, when I got back from Musgrave Park crossed the days missing off and started again. I close my eyes and I see the street. I see the slope in the road heading down hill. I see where the large crowd stood. I see where the armored Land rovers where parked and I remember the officer in charge telling Ben to force our way through the crowd to reach them. What was the name of the street? Was it Spring Hill Ave leading to Westrock Drive? Does it matter? It annoys me. Why?

The room of worried men when I woke up In The Royal Victoria Hospital after my operation made me smile but not as much as the relief on their faces when I left. In the ambulance I was handed a browning. I have no idea if the pistol even had a magazine in it. The anesthetic I’d been given was still making it hard to concentrate. Then through the check point at Musgrave Park hospital and when my head cleared I found I was in a day room surrounded by 70’s army furniture. I looked at the only other person in the room. He looked through me. What a mess his head was. It looked like a tennis ball scar was wrapped around it. I felt better at least that wasn’t me. After an age he looked around ‘have you got a juicy fruit’ he asked and smiled. Squaddies; thank feck for our sense of humor as I realized that he was quoting a line from “One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest”. A little later he was wheeled out and I didn’t see him again.

It was then I saw the little old lady from the airfield again. I now knew of her experiences. As she asked me questions on how I was etc all I could do was look at her as I gave yes and no answers. She was tiny. She showed genuine concern and looked sad as we talked. What horrors had she’d seen; how could she still show compassion? She left and I looked at my hands. She’d given me an Ulster button pin and an Ulster address book. I never saw her again.

The Regiment took its casualties. We were shot at some shot back. Some died, some didn’t. We returned to Germany.

It was only then that we started noticing the changes in ourselves. Walking down to the local pubs used to be a loud affair. Now the habit was to walk in a brick formation silently. It was only when a girl out of a group we hung around with said I changed that I really started to think about it. Before I was always talking, laughing and having fun. When I looked at myself I saw I just sat watching no longer talking just observing the people around looking always looking searching for the gunman.

I still even now when walking in built up areas scan doorways and windows. I find when I think about what I’m doing find myself checking around corners first and running across roads. It’s an effort when I’m with my family not to do these things. I prefer just to let myself go on autopilot. Ignorance’s is bliss!

Loyally I Serve was the regimental motto. Loyally I still serve is my silent reply.