ABK023 War Without Honour - Fred Holroyd with Nick Burbridge - 1989 by Adolf Verloc

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War Without Honour Fred Holroyd & Nick Burbridge

Medium

War Without Honour Fred Holroyd & Nick Burbridge

Medium

COI\TTEI{TS Early Years Special training Active Service

Military Intelligence Dirty Tricks The Intelligence Web

Copyright Fred HolroYd 1989 Published in Great Britain by The Medium Publishing Co', 1a Clumber Street, FIULL HU5 3RH Set in Century Roman 9 Point Printed by Joseph Ward, DewsburY ISBN

1 872398 00 6

22 30 39 7A

Political Psychiatry Another Campaign Rhodesian Sojourn Battle Lines Postscript - The Full Circle

148

Glossary Appendices

155 159

106 113

L20

I29

COI\TTEI{TS Early Years Special training Active Service

Military Intelligence Dirty Tricks The Intelligence Web

Copyright Fred HolroYd 1989 Published in Great Britain by The Medium Publishing Co', 1a Clumber Street, FIULL HU5 3RH Set in Century Roman 9 Point Printed by Joseph Ward, DewsburY ISBN

1 872398 00 6

22 30 39 7A

Political Psychiatry Another Campaign Rhodesian Sojourn Battle Lines Postscript - The Full Circle

148

Glossary Appendices

155 159

106 113

L20

I29

Preface Fred Holroyd is a very unusual person. Hardly anyone has the stamina to go on fighting the British state offand on for 14 years, losing family, house and career en route. Yet this is what Fred has done. This is remarkable enough, but more remarkable yet, he has remained relatively cheerful - and sane. I frrst met Fred and his wife, Marie-Claire, just after Christmas in 1987, in Colin Wallace's unheated living room. Wallace had just come out of prison after serving six years for a murder he didn't commit, and he and his wife, Eileen, couldn't afford to heat the place during the day. Fred and I should have met in April 1986. Fred was going to speak at the House of Commons launch of an issue of the magazine "Lobster" devoted to Colin Wallace's allegations but, completely skint, had taken what turned out to be a non--existent security job abroad. (The powers-that-be just wanted to ensure that he didn't appear at the launch.)

A great many bad roads had come together with Fred and Colin: the state's use of counter-terror in Northern Ireland, the spooks' assault on democracy in the 1970's, Kincora, covert operations on a massive scale, and a murderous internecine intelligence war in Northern lreland. The fact that Fred and Colin had had their lives wrecked, had everything to do with it. Of all the stones the British state doesn't want lifting, the assault on democracy in the 1970's and the war in Northern Ireland come top of the heap.

I taped an interview with Fred and Colin that day which appeared in "Tribune" under the headline 'Loyalty is what they stab you in the back with'something Fred said. Loyalty is important to Fred, loyalty to the Queen, country, the services. Fred doesn't shrug or smile cynically at the corruption of the institutions meant to embody the concepts he holds dear. He hates it. Because Fred - Iike Colin Wallace - was a true believer, the discovery that the British state behaves as brutally (and stupidly) as most when it is threatened, was a shock. Cynics on the left don't feel that outrage anymore. But outrage is appropriate. What has been going on in this country - and Northern Ireland is this country, it is closer to me than Glasgow- is outrageous. Though some of Fred's account of his Northern Ireland experiences have been published already in newspapers and magazines, most ofthis book is new. Almost as asides to his major narrative, he reveals Masonic influence in the ilffiy, a hitherto secret major SAS operation in Thailand during the Wilson administration; and covert operations in Rhodesia just before the fall of the Smith regime. But it is lrlorthern Ireland, his experience of the early years of British state counter-terror, his subsequent struggle with the British state and its operations against him (and Colin Wallace, after they teamed up) which is the heart of this book. We need people like Fred, people for whom the principles ofjustice and truth which we pay lip service to, really do matter. In 1987 he was offered 9150,000 compensation by the Ministry of Defence for his lost career in the army - a settlement after 12 years. He was completely broke at this point, hitching

around the country because he didn't even have a bus fare. Yet he turned the offer down because, at the last minute, a string was attached: he had to stop campaigning for Colin Wallace. Fred thinks of himself as 'just an ordinary guy who was put into extraordinary circumstances'. Well, maybe. How many of us would give up 9150,000 for a friend's cause? I certainly hope I never have to make that kind of choice.

DED/CAIION

RobinRamsay

This book is dedicated to the late WO2 Bernard Dearsley, Royal Regiment of Fusileers, a peerless example of Kipling's 'gentleman in kharki'. 'Bunny'was a fearless, humourous and humane man who showed concern for friend and foe alike. He made all who knew him better persons for it. Many stiil serving in Her Majesty's Forces wear the decorations he won for them. I hope they will join me in wishing good fortune to his widow, Pat, and those of his family who have chosen to follow in his footsteps.

DED/CAIION

RobinRamsay

would like to thank the following for the assistance and encouragement given to me during the past years. In an age where selfinterest appears paramount, it was heartening to knowio *..ty brave

and unselfish people:

EARLYYEARS

My wife, Marie-Claire, and my children, Bridget, Jolyon, Toby and

Rupert;

Humphrey Berkeley, Duncan Campbell, Liz Curtis, Jim Campbell, Dorril, Frank Doherty, Liam clarke, John Mulcahy, paul Foot, Howard Foster, Neil Grant, Ken T,ivingstone, chris Hird, Robert Harbinson, Michael Heney, Julian Hendy, Barry penrose, Ed Maloney, _Aldy Pollak, Richard Norton-Taylor, Gien Nobal, Joe Tiernan, Mike Taylor, clive Ponting, Bob p-arker, Major peter E., Nluiqt chris c., Maior Peter c., Lt.-colonel George c., Brigadier Bob T., Brigadier Colin G., Brigadier Michael H; Robert-Bunyard, Amanda Metcalf, Rosaleen and Alan, Bill and Tim. s_teve

For legal reasons, and to protect the security of individuals still serving, I have removed many names from the text. I have done this also to ensure thaiit is the subject of the story, and not just the role of particular individuals, which receives the greatest attention.

I was

a war baby, born in L942 inAshington, Northumberland, in the Seaton Hurst district on the east side of town. My mother had been conscripted for factory work, so I spent my first four and half years in my grandmother's home, with a tin bath hanging on the yard wall, an outside toilet, and a coalhouse, an archetypal tough environment softened by the close and kindly relationship Geordies invariably create gmgng themselves. I have always had a good memory, and recall the Victory over Japan celebrations held in the rough pasture next to Seventh Avenue where I lived. I was presented witli a new King'.s shilling at the Coop Hall for the wheelbarrow race. _ Allotments, pigeons, days on the beach at nearby Newbiggin all loom large in my recollections. But my main source of pleasure was a piece of newspaper twirled into a cone, and filled with cocoa and sugar. Armed with this, I would sit and watch Geordie, a sixteen stone *iner who lived next door, as his tiny wife, Ginnie, washed the filthy coal dust from his back. My maternal grandmother ruled the house with an iron discipline, andrny uncles rarely raised their voices at home, although as-I lay awake at night I could often hear them singing raucously with theii fellow miners on their way back from the puu. rney were all upright, handsome men, popular with the lasses. I used to watch them getting ready t9 so out - wearing highly polished boots and rakish cloth caps, smart three-piece black suits, stiffwhite collars and white silk scarves ;jokins with my grandmother as she fussed round them. occasionally I would walk with them to the North Seaton Hotel where I would bL given some bottles of stout to take home. They were happy years. - I was, nonetheless, a tough little urchin by the time my father was discharged from the Army and returned to gather his family together. py contralt, my elder brother stephen had lived with the Holroyd family in Harrogate, where he had experienced a very different lifestyle. The Holroyds were well-to-do people with some property in the town, and his formative years could not have been more different. I remember his shock on being introduced to me; a mutual antipathy set in, which much to my regret has endured to this day. IC did not, however, ruin the remainder of my childhood. I passed the eleven plus examination and attended Harrogate Grammar School, where I was fortunate enough to have an enlightened headmaster, who, while he

would like to thank the following for the assistance and encouragement given to me during the past years. In an age where selfinterest appears paramount, it was heartening to knowio *..ty brave

and unselfish people:

EARLYYEARS

My wife, Marie-Claire, and my children, Bridget, Jolyon, Toby and

Rupert;

I was

was frequently forced to give me good hidings for my behaviour, still took a keen interest in me and offered me much sound advice. Since those early days in Ashington I had always found myself the leader of one gang or another, and now, as a teenager, I would head off every Saturday night to the 'fourpenny hops'in town, along with all the other aspiring Teddy Boys. I was a very conventional lad with a strong sense of fair play, fascinated by all things military. I joined the school cadet corps, and attended all the training and adventure courses, until I became an NCO. I knew what I wanted to do, and was keen to leave school. Encouraged by my headmaster I stayed on until I had passed my O Levels. But I was no academic, and my urge tojoin the Army took precedence over everything else.

During my school years my parents' marriage had collapsed. My mother, an attractive and intelligent woman, had been working at the Air Ministry, where she had met a Squadron Leader and fallen in love with him. She conducted a clandestine affair for many months - and I found myself at times being used as an alibi, to lend innocence to her 'friendship'. I very soon became aware ofthe nature of the relationship, and after a difficult and painful process of decision, I resolved to tell my father what was happening. I think it was then that I had my first lesson about honesty. My mother denied everything. My father believed her, and I was soundly thrashed for being wicked. I was too young to understand the subtleties of the situation. My father, in fact, was perfectly aware of what was happening, but he loved my mother keenly, and was prepared to go to almost any lengths to protect their marriage. At the time I could only understand that I had been punished for telling the truth. Eventually, my mother ran away with the Squadron Leader, a divorce ensued, and she remarried. The fact that many years later she returned to my father seems ample proof to me that she never found the happiness she was looking for, away from her family. My own resilience ensured that I personally did not suffer too much damage from what happened, but my brother Stephen was seriously affected and we will both always regret that events did not

different course. Looking back, I feel this experience may have created in me an intense dislike of deceit and treachery that in the real world has caused me tremendous problems. I am often described as naive by those more worldly than myself who regard deception as a routine part of life.I do not accept this.

take

It was now 1959. I stayed briefly with my mother in Plymouth. She had insisted that, before I join the Army, I try at least six months of civilian work. I found a job with a leather firm. But on one particular lunchtime I sat in a coffee bar listening to a Paratrooper talking about his life in the service, and that put paid to all that. I went back to Harrogate as soon as I could and enlisted. There were no vacancies in

the Parachute Regiment at that time, so I joined up in the Royal

Artillery

as a gunner. My path seemed set.

I worked hard at basic training, stationed at 17 Training Regiment Royaf Artillery, in Oswestry. So much so, I was considered offrcer

and internally posted to Mons Troop ( a special group oiyou|g men with officer potential undergoing basic training), to build up the necessary qualifrcations. Subsequently, I Passed the Regular Commis-

*ut"tiul

sion Board and attended Moni Officer Cadet School at Aldershot'

However, in the last week there I got involved in the kind of adolescent f thould have left behind me in Harrogate. The Cadets had all "pitoa" g'otr" do*n to the Women's Royal Army Corps Cadet school in fti"afr"ua for a party in one of the wooden accomodation huts there.I had my eye on a cerbain young \Moman, and at one point in a generally eiening, overheard a public schoolboy from the Cadet School ""*tV telling her whii a common typ" I was, and how sh9 couldn't consider goingiout with me. I happened to be friendly with another lad - a

son - and we dbcided to teach him a lesson. We ambushed him"in the toilets, stripped him naked, kicked open the doors into the spider hut and threw liim onto the dance floor. It was just our misiottntt" that the WRAC Brigadier should choose that moment to walk in. I was returned to my unit and received my first insight into- a particulat kind of torrgit justice that sometimes operates within the

Erigialur's

btitirrt Army. There

had been a general breakdown of discipline that

evening, u.i -o"" serious offences, such as t!"t of the wine stocks, and acls of vandalism, including the removal of the WRAC sash of horroor. But when we were hauled before our own Commandant,

Brigadier Pope, these offences were overlooked; we alone were held resfronsible for the indiscipline, and returned to our units in disgrace'

wai seventeen at the time, and I took the punishment without complaint. After all, I had behaved badly. My friend, the Brigadier's son, reacted differently. After arguing angrily with Pope, he went back to his unit in Aden under protest. He committed suicide with a 9mm Browning shortly afterwards.

I was back with my training regiment at Oswestry I realised what a fool I had been, and resolved to put things right' I was posted to the lst Regiment Royal Horse Artillery, based at-Hildesheim, West Germany. buring the four years I spent there,-I still considered myself officer niaterial, ind as a yorr.tg Bombardier, forced myself to weather Once

the understandable cynicism of t ty immediate superiors. I managed to come first on the Royal Artillery NCO's Cadre, for all the gunner regiments on the Rhine. After lunch on the passing out day, I rem6mber being marched up to the General to be congratulaled - q1d io""d myseH?acing a man who had taken too much alcohol with his meal, utid *ho hal soup stains on the front of his service dress' The imagl had quite an effect on me - but I was careful to keep my thoughts to myself.

take

the Parachute Regiment at that time, so I joined up in the Royal

Artillery

as a gunner. My path seemed set.

I worked hard at basic training, stationed at 17 Training Regiment Royaf Artillery, in Oswestry. So much so, I was considered offrcer

*ut"tiul

sion Board and attended Moni Officer Cadet School at Aldershot'

Erigialur's

btitirrt Army. There

had been a general breakdown of discipline that

evening, u.i -o"" serious offences, such as t!"t of the wine stocks, and acls of vandalism, including the removal of the WRAC sash of horroor. But when we were hauled before our own Commandant,

Brigadier Pope, these offences were overlooked; we alone were held resfronsible for the indiscipline, and returned to our units in disgrace'

Whatever its faults I knew I belonged to the Army. I took pride in my professional performance and sense of discipline. I admired most of my officers, and was proud to serve in an elite regiment. I had learned to ski at Aviemore, while I had been in the Mons troop, and when I got to Germany, I was selected for the regimental team. We used to train in Norway and Austria and compete on the German slopes. Our crosscountry team came second out of all the teams in the Army - and in those days the Army was, effectively, the British Team. Those four years at Hildesheim were fruitful and positive - I matured quickly, still nurturing my ambition to be as good an o{ficer as those I served under, and determined, when my chance came again, to make no more mistakes. In 1964, I was sent back to Mons. The new climate there suited me well. Instead of Cavalry and Guards officers wandering around with silver topped canes - all pose and no soldiering - the instruction came mainly from Para and Infantry offrcers. We actually went out and did the stuff, and weren't forced to spend endless hours cieaning brasses and webbing. I passed out that year - originally as a Lieutenant, posted to 1 Company Air Portable, RASC at Colchester. Then I wentto Buller Barracks to complete my junior officers'course. We all worked extremely hard, and I came out with a high grade. At last I had earned my Regular Commission, and in effect I was back where I would have been if the Hindhead incident had never happened. I was frt, and keen, and somewhat disappointed to be posted back to the Depot Regiment but I learned from my Brigadier that this was only because I was on what he called the'golden circle'which meant that I was going to be groomed for high rank.

It was at this time that I met Fiona, my first wife, a pretty redhaired woman who had just qualified as a teacher, and was working in Kennigton, at an infant school. We met at a party near Stratford on Avon. We had a military wedding at Gawsworth in Cheshire, and settled down together in quarters at Fleet. Despite the events which I will recall here, I can honestly say that I dearly loved my wife, and the four children we had together. Rupert, Jolyon, Toby and Bridget, born over the following years. But I never made any secret ofthe fact that for me the Army was of the utmost importance, and I would never be swayed in my commitment to serve successfully as an officer. Fiona accepted this at the time, even thought the pressures and burdens which ensued led her to change her mind once I had been posted to Ireland. In 1966 I finished my tour of duty with the Depot Regiment and applied to join the Gurkha Transport Regiment. I had admired the officers passing through the Depot who, now that the campaign in Borneo was winding down, were leaving for other postings. I expected the next two years to be one of the highspots of my Army Service. What I found was quite different and coloured my views on colonialism for

many years.

I was posted to Kluang in Malaysia._There was a Resiserving there which virtually ran

*ettiai HQ and two squadrons

themselves. The Nepaleie Queen's Gurkha Oflicers worked long and tirelessly, and the Gurkha soldiers themselves lived up to every epithet apilied to them: loyal, brave'and strong - even though they ,""*"i^to respond best to a kind of discipline which might best b9 described as rather stultifying'and negative. However, the British Oflicers I met in Kluang badly let the side down. Given too much time on their hands, they often behaved in a grotesque caricature of the worst type of colonial overseer. An excessive social and drinking l,ife rife wi[[ affairs made me ashamed of my uniform at times. I also became aware of the pervasive influence of Freemasonry in such circles. A senior officerin my command had met my uncle, who at the time was serving at GCHQ in Hong Kong, where the Regiment's Third Squadron was 6ased. Safe in the Lodge in Repulse Bay, they _had discussed my future and decided I should join the order. This oflicer subsequeritly put a great deal of pressure on me, in the most tactless manner, to accord with their plans and I reacted in a stubbornly negative way. Fellow officers who were also Masonsjoined in with the otit-twisting. I held out, not because I had anything particularlyagainst Freemasonry itself, but simply because I resented this kind of tieatment. In the end, I began to feel quite alienated within the Mess. When I coupled this feeling with my distaste for the 'carpet-bagget' mentality, I realised I would have to apply to leave the unit before my full tour *as co-pleted. My C.O. reacted badly, regarding my decision as a slight upon his own qualities of leadership. I was merely happy to get out as soon as I could. Years later, though, when I met him' now as a iirigadier at the School of Transport on home territory, we both wen! outlf our way to remove any bad blood which may have remained between us.

While serving with the Gurkhas in Malaysia in 1967 I learned for the first time tliat for political reasons things could not be quite what they seemed. I took part in a large brigade sized logistic exercise on the

easi coast of Malaya for ANZAC (Australia, New Zealand and Commonwealth) forces. This was publicly described as a 'brigade

maintenance'exercise - checking that the brigade deployed in the field could be logistically supplied. In fact, it was being used as a cover for a covert SAS operation. I was a troop commander in the Brigade transport company moving stores in the biigade area. One of our tasks was supporting the forryard

airfield at which the Air Despatchers were parachuting loads from Argosy aircraft over Thailand to SAS patrols. The SAS had been dei'loied at the request of the Thai government-to hunt remnants of YongPing's communist guerillas who had moved into Thailand at the

end of the wtalaya'emergency'. These guerillas had become little more than bandits and were terrorising the Thai population. Because of the

nensitivity of the issue this was kept from the British public, and

many years.

I was posted to Kluang in Malaysia._There was a Resiserving there which virtually ran

*ettiai HQ and two squadrons

easi coast of Malaya for ANZAC (Australia, New Zealand and Commonwealth) forces. This was publicly described as a 'brigade

end of the wtalaya'emergency'. These guerillas had become little more than bandits and were terrorising the Thai population. Because of the

nensitivity of the issue this was kept from the British public, and

14 l

possibly, for all I know, from Paliament. It is a measure of the success of this operation that the vast majority of those involved in the exercise had no idea that a real external covert operation was taking place. It was seeing the RCT Air Despatch Squadron in this operation which led me to eventually join Air Despatch. Here, I thought, was a unit of my own Corps which was seeing some real action, and I wanted to be part of it. When I eventually became an Independent Air Despatch Troop Commander I was disappointed to frnd that although some of my NCO's were involved in covert operations abroad, because of the'need to know' rule, I was not authorised to have information about their activities. However, a book has recently been published by one of those NCO's describing his role in the secret war in Oman. ("The Secret War: Dhofar 1971- 72" David Arkless, William Kimber, London 1988).

After a short leave in England, I received my next posting to Germany, to a Divisional Transport Regiment - intially as an Adrnin. Offrcer in a Tlansport Squadron, and then as a Regimental Training Oflicer. I was fortunate to be awarded promotion to substantive Captain early on, and this removed any stale taste I might have had from my tour of Malaya. I served two years in Bunde, Westphalia, and had the satisfaction of captaining the unit's ski teams, which won the Canadian Land Forces Tbophy and the Princess Marina Cup, the two highest trophies the Army competes for. My second son, Jolyon, was born. The family travelled round most of Europe in our VW estate. By the tirne I came back to England,I felt once more happy and fulfilled. There were a further two yars, spent with 47 Air Despatch Squadron, working with Hercules aircraft from Lyneham, flying around the world with my own independent troop, before I was ordered to do my Intermediate Tbansport Course with a crowd of other offrcers who, having had full careers, had managed to avoid it until this time. Based at the School of Transport, Marchwood, we took a close look at all the logistical systems in the country. They were a good bunch of individuals, and it was another happy time for me. I frnished the course in 1972. I was by now a well qualified young o{ficer, and despite the occasional misgivings a firm believer in the values I was entrusted to defend.

This is a very brief summary of my frrst thirteen years inthe Army. I could go on at length, as old soldiers tend to do, but I feel an outline is enough here - since the main purpose of these recollections lies in my experience in Ireland. That experience began some months before I

actually set foot on Irish soil. At the end of the Marchwood course I was told I would be posted to Bunde again - not to my own Corps, but as a Motor Transport Oflicer with 2 Division HQ and Sigaals Regiment. I happened to know that all the vehicles belonging to this Signals

Regiment were in a parlous state, and it would be'a nightmare trying to keep the L960's A.E.C. Ten Tonners on the road. It was the last sort ofjob I wanted. So I decided to look round for something more fruitful,

TOP: My parents, when courting: John victor Holroyd and Eileen o'Donnell. BELOW: Target practice in the Harrogate Grammar School Combined Cadet Force, 1956.

14 l

TOP: My parents, when courting: John victor Holroyd and Eileen o'Donnell. BELOW: Target practice in the Harrogate Grammar School Combined Cadet Force, 1956.

TOP LEFT: With Lt. Col. Bremner, C.O. of 1st Regiment Royal Horse Artillery, Tofrek Barracks, Hildesheim. TOP RIGHT: 2nd Lt. Holroyd, 1 Coy. (Airportable) RASC'' Colchester 1964. BELOW: Animal Transport, Aldershot 1965' TOP:

A military wedding,

Oberjoch, Bavaria, 1970.

Gawsworbh church, cheshire 1969. BELOW: An inspection'

A military wedding,

Oberjoch, Bavaria, 1970.

Gawsworbh church, cheshire 1969. BELOW: An inspection'

TOP: 2 Divisional Regiment RCT, Skiing Team 1969. BELOW: Officers of the Gurkha Transport Regiment, Kluang Officers Mess, Malaysia (myself on far right).

where I could usefully put into practice the skills I had learned. Major Moss, my Commanding Officer, knew full well my views on the matter, and one morning approached me to tell me that he had seen an order asking for Military Intelligence Officers and Military Intelligence Liaison Officers (MIO's and MILO's) to serye in Northern lreland. Rather like the Paras and the SAS, no unit could stop anyone from volunteering if they so wished. I didn't know just what I was letting myself in for, but I leapt at the chance, and was immediately selected for the course. At this stage my wife and family were living in a married quarter at Compton Bassett, just off the 4303, four miles from the airport at Lyneham - a comfortable house in a'married patch'where Fiona had many friends. I felt quite happy to leave them there for the threemonth training course, driving back every second weekend to see them. However, some friction had built up in my marriage, and I would be wrong to deny it. Fiona was pregnant once more, and found it hard to cope with my enforced absences abroad. She had begun to compare me unfavourably with my colleagues who, as senior captains, had already given up an active life and were settling to desk jobs and taking out mortgages - the kind of role I simply didn't associate with my own Army work. I could see her point of view, but I had always made my position clear * and now that at last, I had the chance to see active service and put all my training into practice, I was hardly likely to turn my back on it. In retrospect, perhaps the time I spent training for my work in Ireland could have been more carefully handled. For Fiona, alone with the children in Compton Bassett, where she was well settled and secure, the prospect of my transfer to Ulster was clearly very daunting. But I was involved in very specialised and demanding work, and expected a support which simply wasn't forthcoming. We were already pulling in di{ferent directions, and, later events should not perhaps have seemed so surprising. There was one.evening in particular, when the warning signs were only too clear. We had some friends to stay - fro{n Harrogate - an ex-Arrny man, who had left the service at his wife's request. The two women stayed at home together, while we went out. When we got back we found them both crying. I spent a couple of hours being berated for what a fool I was, volunteering for Ireland, of all places; how I would go out and get myself killed and leave my family behind me. No matter what I said about any sense of duty and loyalty,I couldn't make an impression. I tried to explain how much the army had given us, what it had allowed us to do, how it had offered us a sense of purpose and identity, and how I felt an obligation to pay this back in any way I could. I tried to reason that, as a patriot and soldier, it was no more than was expectedofme to be preparedto frght terroristswho had openly declared war on my country. I had the right background and training to be prepared to be genuinely useful. Whatever fear I, or

rnyone close to me, might have for my safety w-as_ a secondaryconsidnever have joined the Army in the frrst - if it wasn't IIihould had any effect. I wasmet only with mor-e place . . . Nothing said ["u6 and opposition] In retrospect, perhaps sel{ishly, I was unmoved. [.'or the frrst-time in my career I was going on active service. It was what I had always wanted to do. There was nothing anyone coud say, or

*rution

do to stop me.

*rution

do to stop me.

SPECIAL TRAII{ING The Joint Services Intelligence Training Centre stands on the right hand side of the A20, as you head south towards Ashford, Kent. You turn right, travel for 200 metres along a road that runs between married quarters, go over a small hill, and then ahead of you is the main gate with the guardroom on the right. You are stopped by a sentry, who makes you get out of the car and go to a sidegate to check your credentials while his colleagpe examines your car. If everything is on order, you drive through. And you enter the secretive world of Military Intelligence. It was a bright summer af[ernoon in 1973. As I made my way to the Officers'Mess, I remember thinking that despite tight security in the camp - the car checked with a mirror, the trees and grounds interlaced by an infra-red beam alarm system - ofall places they had put the car park directly underneath an extension of the Mess, supported by pillars. It was an ideal target, if anyone should pierce the cordon. It was my first Sense of the peculiar marriage of effrciency and negligence which marks this particular branch of the Services. on my first day, I was introduced to colonel G, the offrcer in charge of the course, a small stout caricature of an English gentleman, and Captain V, a tall, well-built, but effeminate man, who would be my Cadre instructor. The nine other officers on the course were a mixed bunch. T\l9o particularly stand out in rny mind: a Cavalryman, an archetypal Hooray Henry, and an offrcer from my own Corps, a pale, thin, delicate-looking chap with sensitive hands. The others were pretty much like myself. There was another soldier on the course who wasn't in the Oflicers' Mess that night, but who was to play a bigger part in what followed than anyonJelse. Staff Sergeant P was intended to be my FINCO (Field Intelligence NCO) when we eventually went over to lreland. As NCO, he spent his leisure time in the Sergeants'Mess and would come across each morning for lectures and other training, then meet us again later in the day for typing, observation and recognition eiercises. Later, in Ireland, he developed the habit of walking about talking in his very loud English accent, while the rest of us learned to whisper. It typifred his approach to the job'

At this stage, however, we befriended

work closely together, if we both

one another, and agreed to

passed the course and were posted.

Since we had been told by Colonel G that there was a 507o fallute rate, this was by no means assured. So began an intensive three months of training, much of which turned out to have very little to do with any of my *oik in Ireland! Because in Ireland the image people have of this kind of soldiering is based largely on the exploits of the SAS, and what

in thrillers and TV dramatisations, an insider's account of it is like will come as something of a surprise. With hindsight, I

we find

what

think the training we underwent did not prepare men fully to go into action, and rnust [ave had a bearing on some of the confused operating

practices I discovered in Northern Ireland when I got there. To begin with, there was Colonel G himself. He had never been to Ulster, ind was teaching us on a secondhand basis. His endless stories about his time with the British Military Mission in East Germany the team of Army officers allowed to cross the Iron Curtain to keep tabs on troop movements - were entertaining, but seemed to me to have no relevarice whatsoever. Slides ofthe East Germanteams pursuingthem through the forests with special detectors, or examples of mic"ofilT hidin[ places (toothpaste tubes, vacuum flasks, torches), all of which <lbvio[siy came out of the Intelligence Corps Museum, were hardly going to prepare us for gathering information on the streets of Ulster. in .o"tt"tt, baptain V Clearly knew his stuff, but his advice related to the area in which he had operated, close to the border, and his answer to any question about other areas or issues was simply to tell us that we had io iake personal responsibility for everything over there; all he could do waiinstil in us iuspicion, alertness, inquisitiveness, and the f'undamental rules to be carried out to ensure our personal safety. We ull felt we needed more than this, and the course had not been udequately planned to ensure that we got it. In other respects, our instruction was much more satisfactory' 'l'raining on all kinds of cameras, ranging from the small Minox, to the targe Japanese models with telescopic lenses,was compulsory; we were

giv6n roils of frlm to take out on exeicise, and have developed at tt-re end and anyone whose pictures were not up to scratch had to go iif tn" day-complete the exercise again. We also trained on several out and clifferent weapons: AKs, Schmeisers, Btrownings, Lugers. We had to strip them, .ttd put them back together blindfold; and we learned to carry out Immediate Action Drills for a number of situations which we couli find ourselves in. And every day at ten o'clock we would go out on [he range situated near the original country house, and practise until we were all sound marksmen.

We were also trained in manufacturing explosives, petrol bombs with chemical detonators and so on. It soon became apparent to the

staff that I disliked handling explosives! And as a consequence they usked me to set and detonate a whole series. I recall one Molotov

Oocktail I was ordered to prepare, made with petrol and acid. The two had to be mixed together itt u bottle, sealed and washed in a bucket of

At this stage, however, we befriended

work closely together, if we both

one another, and agreed to

passed the course and were posted.

in thrillers and TV dramatisations, an insider's account of it is like will come as something of a surprise. With hindsight, I

we find

what

think the training we underwent did not prepare men fully to go into action, and rnust [ave had a bearing on some of the confused operating

We were also trained in manufacturing explosives, petrol bombs with chemical detonators and so on. It soon became apparent to the

staff that I disliked handling explosives! And as a consequence they usked me to set and detonate a whole series. I recall one Molotov

Oocktail I was ordered to prepare, made with petrol and acid. The two had to be mixed together itt u bottle, sealed and washed in a bucket of

interrogate a recalcitrant Irish prisoner, I was chosen to go first, and rrrppotedly show the others how it should be done. Once inside I was faced with what seemed to be a huge Belfast man, who immediately leaned over the table and threatened me with every kind of retribution imaginable. I began to reason with him quietly, as I should, but the more violent he becarne. suddenly he stood up and pulled a pistol from his pocket and qt"d point blank into my facb. I wai so shocked,I fell backwards offmy-chair for the purpose, caught my - and the video "d-ur., nicely positioned as I tumbled to the floor. I could hear the laughter blanched expression from the corridor, as the door opened and the others were ushered in' And the instructor's voice - 'That'll teach you not to search for a weapon.'I learned later that my video was used to stop students from being overconfident. It taught me a useful lesson. Some of the practical exercises, designed to test our new skills resembled scene; from the Keystone Cops. The first such outing was held in Ashford town, and involved an NCO arriving at a particular

water. Then a buffenvelope had to be attached, containing two other

chemicals - along with gum of arabic inside the bottle to make sure it was properly adhesive. These chemicals had to be put in in the right order, or the whole thing blew up in one's face. I couldn't stop myself shaking as I glanced round to see everyone else conveniently turn away; then, with trembling fingers, tried to put it together, in the hope I wasn't going to become the first casualty of the course! In the event, I got it right. And there was my homemade bomb, ready to explode the moment it hit the ground. Of course, the advantage of this kind of Molotov needs little explanation. You don't have to use a burning rag or anything like that - and under the cover of night, no one can tell where the missile has come from. We also learned useful little tricks with explosives, like homemade shaped charges to blow neat holes in safes. You take a wine bottle with a concave base. Six inches from the base you tie a petrol soaked rag and ignited it. The heat expands the glass which is then dropped into a bucket of cold water. The sharp contraction breaks the glass cleanly round the line of the bottom of the burning rag, leaving the last six inches of the bottle, a perfect container for packing with explosives to use for a shaped charge in a controlled explosion. In our practical test we used this technique to blow out the dial combination lock on a safe. The lock-picking training was taught by one Royal Army Ordnance Captain 'Chubby' L. Shortly after the course started we were taken into a building in the barracks, and along a corridor. The end door was a replica of 10 Downing Street, which Captain L proceeded to open using his army ID card. Behind it was the lecture room where he would instruct us in all manner of of 'target penetration' - full of the latest devices manufactured by the top civilian companies to protect every kind of premises. After an introductory lecture on the history of the lock itself, we were taught how to circumnavigate all these systems. Again, this was the type of instruction which would prove valuable in time to come. The most apposite area of instruction was in the practice

cafe, ata certain time. He would be picked up by a syndicate of three or

four students followed until midday, and a record kept of all his movements and activities. Each syndicate was given its own quarry and time to appear.

There were three of us in my team, armed with overcoats and hats

we could interchange in the str-eet to alter our appearance. We were all carrying plastic car.ier bags, with other items of disguise inside. I was chos'en tlo go into the cafe and keep tabs on the NCO inside. I watched as he walked up to the counter and filled his tray. Not wanting to lose him, I sidled into the queue' two spaces behind,

with

tray I ripidly fitled

well, thinking we'd have a long breakfast

as our quarry reached the till, he immediately put down his tray and ran out of the cafe, leaving me stuck in the queue

before *ol ittg iff. but

and signal to-the gtfgrs outside. Later on, the only real vantage point to keep in touch with him was in the office of the local building society. The trick was to keep the staffoccupied while you hung around. I had nearly signed the deeds for *y ,rorr-"*istent house before it was time to move on again. And when, laier still, my qualTy walked straight through Woolworths, out of the back, and through the Emergency Exit, setting off the alarms someone had to Totlow him, without getting caught and arrested for

*ith tnitt", desperately trying to get after him,

of interrogation. Inside the Ashford camp is an inner

compound, screened offby high fences and floodlights, which contains a complex of Portakabin type buildings, some of thern sealed completely. In these buildings is a large operational monitoring room and a number of cells, each of which has a video camera and is bugged. I knew that they were used for genuine interrogation purposes. So, while we trained there, we had a very real sense of what we were doing. And this was another area where I was singled out for special attention. While I had been stationed in Germany, my ski troop had often been requested to provide soldiers for the German Special Forces School in Bavaria for NATO deep interrogation exercises. I took thirty men or so for three days at a time to act as the staff, while NATO pilots were

burglary! It was all

supposed to teach us to have confidence in the unorthodox'

The second ex-ercise was still more fraught with embarrassment' It also took place in Ashford. The syndicates were meant to position themselves around the town centre and keep observation on another set of quarries. By half past eight in the morning, we were all stationed at various points n"u.i the War Memorial, waiting for the 'e-n-emy' whom we had been instructed to trail throughout the morning' Mean-

subjected, to the most rigorous interrogations. The instructors at Ashford clearly knew about this and decided to take me down a peg or two. On a particular day when we were ordered to go into a cell and

water. Then a buffenvelope had to be attached, containing two other

cafe, ata certain time. He would be picked up by a syndicate of three or

four students followed until midday, and a record kept of all his movements and activities. Each syndicate was given its own quarry and time to appear.

There were three of us in my team, armed with overcoats and hats

with

tray I ripidly fitled

well, thinking we'd have a long breakfast

as our quarry reached the till, he immediately put down his tray and ran out of the cafe, leaving me stuck in the queue

before *ol ittg iff. but

*ith tnitt", desperately trying to get after him,

of interrogation. Inside the Ashford camp is an inner

burglary! It was all

supposed to teach us to have confidence in the unorthodox'

while, life went on around us, and so it happened that a Securicor bullion truck pulled up outside the bank nearby. Most of the teams were too busy looking up and down the road waiting for their quarry to emerge, to notice that no one came out of the vehicle. Meanwhile ihe crew inside were contacting the police to tell them there was a crowd of suspicious characters lurking round the street. The whole exercise was interupted some minutes later, when four police cars arrived and everyone was summarily arrested. Only the special papers we had been given at the School got us offthe hook. But, ofcourse, the quarries

simply took advantage of the situation to walk calmly through the town centre and escape us. There were two other such episodes. On a damp eariy summer morning we were all taken to Canterbury. My group was instructed to leave a dog's name-tag cylinder, with a coded message inside, at a known place, which would tell a 'spy'where to pick up a dead letter drop. (This is a procedure that allows agents to pass messages without actually having to meet each other and thereby becoming privy to knowledge they don't 'need to know'.) He would then have to be followed and observed. The dead letter wouid tell him to meet another agent in the cathedral precincts, and both had to be photographed together. To begin with, the dog tag had to be left in the Borough Architect's office. We had no choice but to walk brazen faced into the middle of a County Surveyors'meeting. I said'Excuse me', and simply strode across to large section ofrnap trays, counted three across and three down, put in our message, and walked out again, leaving everyone in the room staring at me bemusedly, though not one of them thought to check what I had left there. Back outside, we left another of these little cylinders in a wastepaper basket and then returned to the street to keep watch, lurking round casually as we had been taught. Through a window we watched our agent go in, disturbing the meeting for a second time, open the drawer and take out the coded message, once more watched in total bewilderment by members attending the meeting. We then followed him to the area of the cathedral, where, using anti-tracking methods, he managed to drop us. In some disarray by now, we hurried to the southern end of the cathedral and ensconced ourselves in the memorial garden, hoping to pick him up again. Sure enough, our man approached through a gap in the wall, and we were able to photograph him, as if we were taking snaps of the the memorial itself. He then crossed into the main cathedral grounds, and cut across the grass, to go into the cloisters, where the meeting with the other agent was supposed to take place. We had a problem now, to get ahead of him. But this was immedi-

ately solved by a dog running out of a nearby cleric's house and vigorously attacking our quarry. With great glee, we took the opportunity to race round the cathedral and position ourselves in time to photograph the two 'spies' together, albeit with one minus half his

trouser leg. The ludicrousness of the situation only increased as we retreated - and kept bumping into all the other syndicates, chasing various quarries about the cathedral, all trying not to laugh, as they dodged round the pillars. Finally, on adjourning to the nearest pub for a hard earned pint, the first thing we saw was another syndicate at the bar and then another . . . within half an hour, the whole bar was jammed with Intelligence Corps staffand students, all pretendingthey were total strangers. In the end, the laughter did break out, and that was the end of

it.

The last of these incidents was perhaps the most absurd of all. My task was straightforward enough - to shake off any surveillance_ I came under. Tlie exercise started at nine o'clock. After I'd been walking twenty minutes or so, keeping my eyes open and losing lnyonel suipected of being assigned to watch me, I becarne aware of this lad, about fifteen or sfuteen, who was clearly following me . . . 'Aha!'said the aspiring Intelligence Officer to hirnself, 'they're not using NCOs now, they ,rslng family' . . . . This was obviously the son of one of the instructors. So I went into full gear to get rid of him. I rushed into a hotel, took offmy coat,hung it on a peg, picked up someone else's and went out of the kitchen entrance. I came round the hotel, back through the front door again, and then emerged in the mack I'd been carryingin the obligatory bag. I hurried down to the railway station, dropped th-e bag, and went off again. I couldn't believe it when I saw the lad still beiind me. Whenever I stopped to look round, so did he. Whenever I hurried on, he did likewise. Worried now that I wasn't doing too well, I rushed into a school, entered the staff room through the French windows, saying 'Good morning' to the bewildered teachers, went down a corridorind out onto the playing fields beyond. I threw myself over a fence. I could still see the boy sprinting across the grass behind me. There was a public convenience nearby. I rushed in and locked myself,in a cubicle. By standing on the toilet seat, I managed to get out of a small frosted glass window overhead at great risk to my private parts. I dangled over an iron fence, dropped down, and ran off: only to iee the boy hot on my trail. By now, it was half an hour after the exercise was Supposed to have ended, so when I reached the streets again, tr gave up trying to lose him. If I'd failed the exercise, s0 be it. As I came down the high street acar pulled in beside me. captain v leaned out and asked me rvhere on earth I'd been- I told him about the boy - who was still doggedly behind me. Capt. V went across and asked him what he was doing. The boy simply replied that he had seen me acting suspiciously early that morning, and in true Enid Blyton style, had been fbllowing me ever since, in the vain hope of finding a policeman to take over. Capt. V came back to see me' his face wreathed in smiles.

,'You bloody fool', he said, 'He's nothing to do with us!'

I got into the car and we drove back to camp.

it.

,'You bloody fool', he said, 'He's nothing to do with us!'

I got into the car and we drove back to camp.

The moral of this tale was, as I learned on frequent occasions in Northern Ireland, that intelligence work contains a high proportion of farce and it is extremely easy to make a complete fool of yourself. A sense of the ridiculous is undoubtedly an asset in the intelligence world. The last week came, and judgement with it. Not everyone had stayed the course. The Hooray Henry had gone long since. My friend with the

sensitive hands had lasted out, however. And I shall always be gateful - since I was hopeless at typing, and relied on him to type upmy reports at the end ofthe day -just as I would later rely on my FINCO to do the same in Ireland. Tony P too, had survived. Now it was a question of how many of us would be selected for duty. Colonel G had us in, one by one, and let us know the results. I was second from last, and had seen just who had been successful and who had not. I was feeling confident. They told me that, initially, I'd been considered too straightlaced a soldier to be able to adapt to the,unconventional role of a Military Intelligence Offrcer. The need to behave in a civilian way, to dress suitably for whatever area one might have. to work in, to use informal methods . . . all this had seemed to be outside my rather blinkered capability and obvious military bearing. Bu! I had learned well, I was told, and I was to be posted to Ireland in the near future, to work in the city of Armargh. I was delighted, and left the camp, saying goodbye to Tony P who had also passed, knowing that we would meet again before long, in very different circumstances. As I drove back to Compton Bassett I fett exhilarated.I forgot aboqt the more ludicrous side of things, and thought instead of the work ahead. Many years later, as I watched with millions of others on television the mobilisation for the Falklands War, and saw the extraordinary lengths to which some oflicers and menhad gonetomake sure that they gofto their mobilisation points so they would not miss'their waf" I firund myself identifring with them closely, and recalling just how i felt as I leh Ashford that day. I experienced no fear or misgiving, simply a glow of satisfaction, and the urge to get on with the job. Ireland itself, I knew little more than I had been told on Regarding-and what I had picked up, like any other member of the the c6urse, public, through the media, and by word of mouth. The official Army bverview of tle situation was straightforward. On the one side there was the IRA, split into two groups by ideological 4ifferences, fighting the forces of tle Crown, supported by parts of the Republican community, who may or may not (depending on who you listened to) have had a iaw deal during the previous three decades. On the other side, there were the lawless elements in the Loyalist population, who were either genuine terrorists, or criminals using the political situation as a screen for their personal gain. As a soldier it was one's duty to act impartially in support of law and order, fighting any form of illegality one might-encounter. I felt confident I could carry out that duty.

to him

What I didn't know then about the war I was about to enter was how

the'rule of law and order was not wha! it seemed, and I would encounter illegalities on my own side which would severely dent my Bense of purpose. I understood

there was

certain mood of ruthlessness

pervading our thinking on Counter Terrorism. Shortly before the end of the training, Brigadier (as he was then) Frank Kitson had come to address us on the subject. He was taking time off from the international conference then being held at Blackdown, the Army Ordnance Depot near Aldershot - and his lecture at Ashford was attended by a number of American, German and French officers. He was rightly gonsidered the top man in his field. Kitson spoke very clearly and very elowly, almost as if he was addressing a crowd of schoolchildren; and I

realised that the tactical philosophy he was expounding was rather different from that normally associated with the British Army. The logic of the use of infiltration, pseudo-gangs, and deep interrogation, to defeat terrorist opposition, was nonetheless compelling. I was yet to

how it worked in practice - and just how it could involve breaking the law and imitating terrorism itself to achieve its ends. On the evening of Kitson's lecture there was a party in the Officers' Mess. An American approached me dressed like a U.S. Cavalry Officer, with purple water-silk facings and yellow rank bars on his jacket shoulders. He quietly proceeded to try to recruit me, along with two other Captains from the course, into the CIA. At first I thought this was just another ofour initiative tests, but when I spoke to my Colonel, he assured me that the approach was genuine. At that moment, I realised just how different my work would be from anything I once Bee

expected.

to him

What I didn't know then about the war I was about to enter was how

the'rule of law and order was not wha! it seemed, and I would encounter illegalities on my own side which would severely dent my Bense of purpose. I understood

there was

certain mood of ruthlessness

expected.

ACTIVE SERVICE In Northern Ireland the activity ofthe various Intelligence agencies has increased dramatically during the last fifteen years. In 1973, when I was first posted, the system was still relatively primitive. The chief civilian agency at work was the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6 (I knew little at all about it then, though I was soon to frnd out). In the sphere in which I was expected to work, Army Intelligence cooperated with the RUC Special Branch to gather as much information as it could on the terrorist groups at large and to recruit as many informers as possible. To each RUC Division was attached a SMIU Cell (Special Military Intelligence Unit) which could consist ofMilitary Intelligence Officers, Field Intelligence NCOs, and the Military Liaison Officers. these were intended to form the spearhead of regular intelligence work, trying to ensure that all information received by the Army and

police was effectively collated, warnings given and taken, and surveillance successfully carried out. Basically, we had been taught that we should deal with gathering information on what was called the Intelligence Cycle - a continuous operation, dividing into six parts: (a) Determination of the Intelligence Problem O) ThelntelligenceAppreciation/Estimate (c) CollectionPlanning (d) The Intelligence Process (e) Dissemination (0 Re-appreciation I must admit, I found the thought of the paperwork pretty*daunting, involving as it would the latest personality indexes, current IRA activities (in other words the ORBAT (Order of Battle) of the area), social breakdown and topography. My job would be to concentrate on

the liaison between the police and the Army which, at that time, was considered to be well below par. In a sense, then, I would have three separate masters: the commanding o{Iicer of the Special Military Intelligence Unit, the head of the Special Branch and the Brigadier in elnqge of the resident Brigade. My role would indeed be unconv\tional, and clearly require some diplomacy, as well as an unusua\degree of flexibility and independence. I was well aware that the situation in the province had seriously deteriorated: sectarian murder was rife, our soldiers regularly killed.

a My posting did not have an auspicious beginning' There,were only heard had but-I Ireland, foi f;i;t; [E reiore t was due to 1""'"" u"thorities' Eventuallv M":g tqttt"

;id;;?";

!:l=lf

""t"u""t artaog6d u *arrant for me, and a ferry ticket,andproTit"dq"::9^T,{ I had sorted things out' So, nulslng-q tew,days when over iamili I had bought ror *"*ttt of beard, and the scruffy civilian clothes trr" t"ui" for Liverpool. I saw this as a physically to i-rt"a u""" traininghard over the precedingveeks' in weight, and feliprepared for what lay ahead' I i.to"" half lost arrived early for the Belfast ferry, hoping to preserve my cover'â&#x201A;Źlnce *u" apparently so seciet iven he himself didn't know

fr;;ii. il;il;a

#;;hill;b tt

MIO',

"6le " he was travelling' when

get I was duly issued with a special boarding qass'lo I managed to thetoat Evenutally calin. in a myself install and i""ry i"to'th"

ilii"d;;

"."tV i";tie

quav. Suddenlv, a voice came over the ship's

tannoy: --.wiit-cuptain

purser's offrce as he Fred Holroyd please rgggr! to_the h; L;;;;f,o,"n to be tfre lvtititary fa."iiies' oflicer for the journey . . .' So much for undercover work! I waited on We docked at the other side, very early in the morning' all the ptt*ttg"tt fria disemUarked and then made my tfte Uo.t ""til dock, stilihalf expecting someone to meet me there' ;;;J";;"tothe on thg i;;t-e;;, the white lights shinine bleaklv i;H;;;lll, across to a caravan parked on.the quay -"and n1I immediately recognised the NCO manning-tfe post.P,one ol phone Armv ifhe could asked and form, the rtit" l;;;;;;1ei""" i tira tobe ii-d-.fi,i"u"rnto findoutwhatl should be doing. ThirSsdid, srl{ Desr r the that and unit, my of heard even had toli that no one there ;;d-d";;"to tut " thu bo, up to Lisburn and sort it out there. The Staffsergeant then went offabout his business' at As I sat in the caravan waiting, a furtive face appeared suddenly hair' long the window - with a huge beard and 'Psst!'he whispered. 'Over here! Come on!' A"a ftit head dropped out ofsight' I went to the door ofthe caravan head i;; t'i* au'tiie b"tY-"q two cars' Againto the convince tried stranger ""d-;;;;;i;;t over here!'The dis=hevelled ".["i "olF."t! I became genuinelv alarmed' wondering if fi;;;;t;;A;tbfr;t. tol"fto* I ftad been set up when I had barely arrived in the province' I rushed offinto the Departure/Arrival lounge and found the.Royal prstol r Coros of Transport NCO and borrowed his Browning 9mm

iffi"]f ;;A;i,';"y

"t" il;;-;;u"

and found the stranger lurking-in.the the Browning I asked him'Who the hell game-?' Hi*and rnoved to his pocket and I told *ft.t's-your slowly andZarefully. He produced an out of date identity

""ti,

"fograih

iltttiU"r.-t"Tn" .u.-p"* ;it-;e;;;ld;""i"g tti*'*ittt V""."a ift" pt

wtrich bore no resemblance to him whatsoever'

a My posting did not have an auspicious beginning' There,were only heard had but-I Ireland, foi f;i;t; [E reiore t was due to 1""'"" u"thorities' Eventuallv M":g tqttt"

;id;;?";

!:l=lf

fr;;ii. il;il;a

#;;hill;b tt

MIO',

"6le " he was travelling' when

get I was duly issued with a special boarding qass'lo I managed to thetoat Evenutally calin. in a myself install and i""ry i"to'th"

ilii"d;;

"."tV i";tie

quav. Suddenlv, a voice came over the ship's

tannoy: --.wiit-cuptain

iffi"]f ;;A;i,';"y

"t" il;;-;;u"

and found the stranger lurking-in.the the Browning I asked him'Who the hell game-?' Hi*and rnoved to his pocket and I told *ft.t's-your slowly andZarefully. He produced an out of date identity

""ti,

"fograih

iltttiU"r.-t"Tn" .u.-p"* ;it-;e;;;ld;""i"g tti*'*ittt V""."a ift" pt

wtrich bore no resemblance to him whatsoever'

32 I told him to leave - and do it slowly and carefully. I was convinced that my cover had been blown before I'd even starbed. To say the least, I was in a state of some agitation. I caught the bue to Lieburn and asked round for my unit, but still,

apparently, no one had heard of it. Eventually I was directed to 12 Intelligence and Security Company, about 100 metres from the HQ building at Lisburn. I went in and introduced myself ta the 2 ilc Captain G and his CO, Major H. They told me they would do their best to find out exactly where I had to report. In the meantime I should try to get accommodation inthe Mess. I could scarcely believe what was happening. At the Mess they told me there was no accommodation, but I could use one of the little caravans parked outside. No sooner had I started to unpack my things, than a knock came at the door, and when I opened it, standing in front of me was the bearded man from the docks. 'You stupid bastard! I drove all the way from Armagh to meet you,' he cried. Once again, he produced the out of issue ID card. This time I looked at it properly. His name was Major C and he was the current MIO working at Armagh - the one I was sent to replace. It seemed incredible. But I didn't argue with him now. He had a Q car outside, and

toldmehewouldtake medownto seemyCO, ColonelD atKnock, the RUC HQ. At last I had made some kind of contact. And I kept thinking to myself, if this was some kind of test, what an absurd waste oftime! Yet if I expected things to run smoothly from then on, it certainly wasn't the case. Colonel D was installed on an upper floor at Knock HQ: he remained distant and aloof throughout my first intâ&#x201A;Źrview with

him and gave me the impression that he was more an academic than a leader of men. He made a point of telling me that I should advise the resident Army Brigade only on information that might help them cooperate with the police on specific matters. Any other Intelligence I received was to go straight to him. I listened to his briefrng, then left with Major C to go down to Armagh, guarding my first impressions of the inter-service rivalry that would dominate my work for so long. I was dropped offat Gough Barracks, where again I tried to find some suitable accommodation. This time, however, I was reduced to a campbed in a lecture room, draping my clothes over a chair, and keeping my suitcase beside me. I settled down for the night, feeling none too pleased.

Mqjor C picked me up the next morning, and we drove to Armagh police station to meet the man I was meant to be working with. The abiding image I have of the RUC man in Armagh, is of a squat little Ulsterman, slightly flushed, with receding white hair, opening a filing cabinet, taking out a folder, holding it close to his chest as he glanced through it, then putting it back and locking the cabinet again. It soon

33 became clear to me (and this was backed up Mqjor C) that they were so eecretive and unwilling to delegate an5rthing that working with them would be an extremely frustrating experience! The impression was only strengthened when later that evening, after I had been driven round the area and taken for a drink in a village pub in Moira, the Sergeant with his two constables amazed me by getting drunk, climbing back into their car without the least sense ofpersonal security, and driving off along the roads of South Armagh as if the conflict was a figment of someone's imagination and there was nothing whatever to

fear.

During the week I spent learning the ropes from Major C, I began to how inadequate the Ashford training was. Major C seemed to have no idea of what he was doing, or why he was doing it. He had no office, no records, nothing. His main line of duty appeared to be visiting his girlfriend in Dungannon - a married woman who lived alone in her English husband's plush house while he worked across the water. He took me to meet her and implied that I should take her over when he left. But I had no taste for infrdelity, and certainly wasn't prepared to involve myself in anything that could be used against me. He struck me as a genuinely disillusioned man, with no loyalty to the system whatever; the disguise as a freelance artist of high temperament befrtted him better than he might have thought. In spite of my circumbtances, I prepared to take over trying to set up my own frling system, so that at least when Major C left, I could get on with the job. Since he had no names or sour@s to give me I learned what I could from the police, and tried to add this information to what I had put together at Ashford. A week later, I was just beginning to think I had a basic familiarity with J Division area when the call came through from Knock HQ to tâ&#x201A;Źll me I wouldn't be working there after all! Everything I'd done so far was wasted. Major C took me straight up to Colonel D again, and his 2 i/c M4jor J, see

a tall slender officer who later went on to serve in the Sultan of Oman's forces, in their equivalent of MI5. I went into the little office - next to

the Special Branch Commanders - and was immediately told that another MIO, Captain A, based at Portadown in K Division, had become a victim of the kind of inter-service rivalry I had already glimpsed for myself. Failing to obey D's dictum that MIOs worked principally for the RUC Special Branch and had only a secondary duty to HQ 3 Brigade, Captain A had been caught trying to pilfer information from police files. He had gone as far as to have obtained spare keys to the Special Branch oflices and frling cabinets at Portadown police station and had broken in after hours. Caught with police frles he was immediately escorted from the station andbanned from returning. Someone had to be brought in to take his place, and try to repair the damage caused to the already bad relations between Army and police. Since I had onlyjust arrived, and had yet to begin any serious work of my own, I was the obvious choice.

fear.

a tall slender officer who later went on to serve in the Sultan of Oman's forces, in their equivalent of MI5. I went into the little office - next to

drove my newly acquired Q car,

1300cc Ford Escort, to

Portadown. Major C had aCtually taken me to meet the Special Eranch

offrcers there aiouple ofdays after I arrived in the Province, so I knew

what to expect. Sut of course Captain A's actions on behalf of the Brigade meant a frosty welcome awaited me- I went into the brick buil"ding, and up some rickety stairs to the Special Branch off:ces' There iwas introduced again to Sergeant R, a smooth man, sitting behind his desk in a light grey suit smoking a cigarette througlr a holder. He smiled at me cyniially and said something to the effect that he thought they had got rid of MIOs for good. Then he proceeded to tell me that I should come to the station twice a day: at fO.3O and 4.00. I should sit on a chair in the corridor and wait urrtit ne was ready to brief me. Then I should report back to the Army'

And that would be that. He was prepared to put up with me, only because those were his orders. For the first time since I had arrived I

gave ventto some ofmyfeelings aboutthe set-up. I saidtlatfromwhat so far, I wai not impressed by the Army's performance and ih.d "u"tt Captain A I had no doubts that my first loyalty lay with the that unlike Special Branci since that was stated in my written charter. I agree{ to pass no information back to Brigade that S-pecial Branch vetoed, and to lheck everything with him as a matter of course. Perhaps, I ask-ed in return, he mighf show me some confidence in time. By the way I was dismissed, this seemed a remote possibility' I now found myself in a situation where I had been ordered'to work in a totally new area, with instructions to try and clear up the mess left by

predecessor, liaising with a policeman who seemed even less amenabl6 tttutt the Special Branch in Armagh. I would also have to look for somewhere else to live, and work.

My confrdence deteriotated further when I was summoned to Brigide HQ to meet the Bfigadier. Whenl arrived at the 3 Infantry Brilade Headquarters in Lurgan, I was told that I should frrst report to the"Intellige.tcb section otr the seventh floor of the sky_scraper bJilding known locilly as the Factory. There I met the Brigade Mqjor S, a tall good lookingbfftc"", who had been in Ireland earlier and, according to fiir o*tr sold=iers, at that time was not too popular. I was introduced to Captain (later Major) D, the General Staff Oflicer (Grade 3 Intelligence) - like the RUC offrcer Sergeant R, smooth as silk and also, like f,itn, a man who did all his work by telephone and rarely if ever

ven[ured into the hostile world. On the single occasion I recall Mqjor D appearing on the streets of Portadown, at a roadblock to check a frineral c6tt ge, both police and Army officers were so amazed they refused to believe there was a truce on with the IRA at the time' M4ior D was as blunt as Sergeant R had been - only he gave me exactlythe opposite order. According to him, my loyalty should lie. with the B:rigade. I was working in their area, therefore any Intelligence that catie .try *ay should go straight to them. I protested that both my CO,

Colonel D and Sergeant R had told me this was not the case at all. But Mqjor D said he didn't care what I had been told. These were my terms

ofreference. And so to the Brigadier himself. Colonel G at Ashford had been a caricature of an English Offrcer, but he was no rival to the Brigadier. I wouldn't begin to question the Brigadier's capacity as an offrcer - he knew his stuff. But he came across as a blustering parody of Montgomery. He unfailingly referred to the Irish, even the RUC, as Bogwogs and the frst thing I noticed in his offrce was a plastic leprechaun sitting on a rock, set on a finely carved piece ofwood, with a small plaque bearing the inscription to the effect of: Lst Bogwog stone thrown at me in the Derry riots. ltris small, fierce man then launched into a staccato address, welcoming me to the area, and telling me that Mqjor D would let me know

exactly what to do. 'We're hoping for great things from you,

, Holroyd'. . . . and so on. He confirmed my worst fears about how the Army was operating in the Province, and my distate was reciprocated, since he always referred to me subsequently as the Tradesman behind my back, because I didn'tcome from a Cavalryor Guards regiment,but the Royal Corps ofTransport - and a grammar school boy at that! Those who worked under him were plainly affected by his attitude. After that first introduction, Major D took me back to his own office:

the Brigade Intelligence centre. Sitting in a corner, at separate desks, were two Staff O{ficers, one dealing with Protestant, the other with Catholic Intelligence. There was also a liaison officer for the SAS, and a number of clerks running to and fro. Major D pointed to an empty desk opposite the others. He told me that it had been Captain W's and that this was where I would be working from. I went across to look at it. There was nothing in it - no records, no files. It was becoming a familiar story, and Major D offered no explanation. Once more, I gave vent to my feelings. I made it quite clear that as far as I was concerned, I didn't work from a desk at Brigade HQ nor was I under his command. We had a few terse words there and then. I assumed my Colonel at Knock would back me in this, and any other run-ins I might have with Brigade, since he had warned me to resist

any attempt to co--opt me into their establishment. There was no reason to think that this wouldn't be the case. I had no interest in the conJlicts between the various factions at work, each so desperate to claim what glimmers of success we were having in the war of Intell-

igence. They were prepared to compromise the general plan in order to enhance themselves. I had come here to do a particular job, if I was given the chance, and it seemed my terms of reference were quite plain. Simply because 3 Infantry Brigade Headquarbers weren't prepared to accept that the RUC Special Branch should effectively control the flow of information, and decide when and how it should be acted on, and were ready to go as far as to rifle their frles to interfere with this, should

drove my newly acquired Q car,

1300cc Ford Escort, to

Portadown. Major C had aCtually taken me to meet the Special Eranch

offrcers there aiouple ofdays after I arrived in the Province, so I knew

And that would be that. He was prepared to put up with me, only because those were his orders. For the first time since I had arrived I

predecessor, liaising with a policeman who seemed even less amenabl6 tttutt the Special Branch in Armagh. I would also have to look for somewhere else to live, and work.

Colonel D and Sergeant R had told me this was not the case at all. But Mqjor D said he didn't care what I had been told. These were my terms

exactly what to do. 'We're hoping for great things from you,

just t_row cormpt some not make any difference to me. I had yet to learn been good reason have may how there and were, nuc orin" ;;d; gloups were terrorist Protestant for such interference, as far as tf,.e lt seemed io me to be more a question of simple rivalry. "o"""r"La. from' T\vo events occurred then that at least gave me a base to work I99ul{ in whom area, the men activeln and the chance to meet other

"""ftag ;-I;;f;

."d *tt" deserved respect. Once I had refused Major D's o{er of lh" C"igua" Intelligence Cell, I went down to Mahon Road

ut po""g.ao*'', wfrich was being rebuilt. I thought it might A;;b;; the office ofthe il..i";dlf,"a ifI coutd trarie an offrce there, adjacent tonext to the operbo*ir""a", of the resident Infantry Battalion and to their intellaccess give meimmediate which would

"""t", -dittua "tio"" n"lrt"ti"s. As the offrces were still under construction there was i;;;;; solved one of my problems without too much ,i" "Ui"'Ji"". N;;.ily, when I went back to tell Mqjor p we fa{ i;;;i;. llgth"T briefhim at

S;t I *o"fdft be moved by this, and left, promising to "ot". least once a day on whatever information came my way' This left me with one other difficulty' Since I had spurned the g"ig"iit ;ff"; oi a working space-, I co-uld trardly live^in -the, offigr.s' the HQ at Luigan. Here, I had a stroke of luck' I ran into *"t" f.""a ut -offt"""

I had hJt met whilst serving in Germanv'. with ;-w;;;t out on a number of *ft"* i ft.a .f*.is been friendly, and had helped just a new-row ol bought had Army thd that me toli occasions. He Becombra, a very pleasant estate, newly b-uilt on the outh;;; houses had been commanski"t" or'trPortadown, -*g.d" and tl.at while most staff, there were still two vacant. If I put a bid.in d;;;;tth" he w6dd make sure I got ong, and could move my family ;Lfti *i" .s possible. I went out to look at the houses, and they-were on'"t "*un. "" ftutta n'ew, and each as fine as anything a Brigadier *ight F i"ae"a his ;ff";;a i" G.rrnany. My former friend and colleague was a! good aswith couldjoin_me she Fionathat tell r"ghndto i" ;ft.i;;"crro-" mv she thought

I wasn't si,tptit d, given what lbou! "ttiiat"-". risks involved,that she reacted with little enthusiafln; ttte ."a i".ti"i

ift"

["tilE""gt t that once she had seen the quarters and we could resume *.*iZa hfe, that things would change' I was wrong, 9stheI thall Irish ""r But now, foi the first time since I had crossed ,froJi' "*pf.in. to feel I could start making my mark' Sea, I-began

R',s It was hard work. I would sit in the corridor outside sergeant would he moment for the waiting off*" Portadown police station, wrote *" - then receive a tight-lipped brie{ing,that-I d;g" "tt place''' a such ""u at seen was so-and--so . Joti" i" t"y p.lice notebook .' so on' offI would go to ;t;;;;;tt"ck there was an incident ' ' ' andhumdrum material that such to them: back B;tgrd;, ."a r"ua it all

being observed. ;#t;; knew it was merely a qgestion of formalitiesjust as I had with area, new the myseliwith M#;hii" f familiariseil e-.*.gtt. i moved into the new oflice at Mahon Road, and began-to L"iia ip a"cent data system. No matter how it was being played' I

was determined to treat my role seriously. I don't know how successful I would have been, if I had been left on my own, but again, I had a stroke of luck. I found the men I was looking for.

Since I was no longer working from Armagh, Tony P, whom I had met at Ashford, would clearly no longer be my FINCO. Instead I had been introduced to Sergeant I, who had moved into the office with me at

Mahon Road. Sergeant I was a tremendously hard worker, with a flair for invention, and an undeniable courage, hidden under a self--effacing manner. He was with me on most of the operations carried out over the next eighteen months - and I was indebted to him in other ways, not least for his willingness to type up reports for me. He helped me to such an extent that we could best be described as partners in the enterprises that followed - an oflicer/NCO relationship much frowned upon at 3 Infantry Brigade HQ. Yet, if there is anyone who stands out in my memory as being representative of the British soldier at his best, it is Warrant Offrcer 'Bunny' Dearsley who supported me through my frrst months in Ireland, and was central to the success ofmy work. Sergeant B introduced us. Seeing how little joy I was getting from the police, and how keen I was to meet the MILO in Craigavon, with whom he himeelf had had contact when he had been working for Captain W, my predecessor. I agreed at once, and so into my offrce came Bunny Dearsley. Bunny was a Cockney Warrant Officer, near the end of his service. I took an immediate liking to him. He reminded me of the actor Arthur English, always with a cigarette in his frngers, and ready with a quick smile. He had served twenty two years, dating back to the war in Korea East End stock as the Krays and the - and came from the same them, had not deserted and turned to Richardsons, though unlike crime, but usedhis shrewdness in servinghiscountry. The situationin Ulster was perfect for him. He had been out already with his battalion in 197 l-7 2, in Lurgan, and had proved so adept at recruiting low grade sour@s unoffocially that he was assigned to the Lurgan police station as a Liaison Intelligence NCO, and had lived in a caravan outside, until the station was blownup by acarbomb andthe RUC movedtothe Town Hall. Whenever the police had been interrogating a suspect, Bunny would get hold of him on his way out, and instead of bullying or threatening the man, would offer him a cup of tea and a chat and get twice as much out of him. Bunny was then sent back to England, to go through the Intelligence course at Ashford, and posted again to Ireland in 1973 - to work ostensibly as the MILO in Craigavon though, in fact, as I soon discovered, his role was a great deal more significant than

that. During those first weeks, however, I took him at face value, and was grateful for his advice and for the contacts he helped put my way. Slowly things began to assume (some) cohesion and I got a good knowledge of the area. Portadown was then a major flashpoint in the

"""ftag ;-I;;f;

."d *tt" deserved respect. Once I had refused Major D's o{er of lh" C"igua" Intelligence Cell, I went down to Mahon Road

I wasn't si,tptit d, given what lbou! "ttiiat"-". risks involved,that she reacted with little enthusiafln; ttte ."a i".ti"i

ift"

was determined to treat my role seriously. I don't know how successful I would have been, if I had been left on my own, but again, I had a stroke of luck. I found the men I was looking for.

troubles and there were covert actions by the ulster volunteer Force. Also there were a number of catholic estates where a series of serious incidents had taken place. In contrast, Lurgan was notorious for its Republican elements - while Craigavon, the new town built between the two, also had a reputation for IRA activity. Around -these towns^ was typical Irish countryside, dotted with villages and farms, -all. of which were categorised according to their sympathies, and listed with any incidents asiociated with them, individuals and their histories, eti. Bunny kept a desk in our office at Mahon Road, and so was q!19 to fill in a loi of detail from his side of things. Meanwhile he lived with his wife at Craigavon - and she too proved a valuable source of information, relayld from the patrols for whom she made tea, and other bits of local gossip she managed to pick up.

Initially, I only handled fairly low grade material' The information I gave to ttie Army from the RUC principally concerned the activities of Jympathisers, criminal acts that could be associated with those in-

vbt"la in sectarian violence, and reports of actual terrorist attacks from the police angle. In return, I informed the RUC of the Army's activity in the area, and any Intelligence on terrorists and sympath-

isers tliey had managed to gain through their own means. Beyond this, I began io use *y own initiative, given confidence by my association with Bunny and Sergeant I.

So at last I had a base. My wife and family moved into Becombra, but the enthusiasm I had hoped I could kindle in Fiona never materialised. I was delighted to be with my children again, but I soon realised the tension in my marriage was simply not going to go away. As it turned out, the new situation ofthe quarters only exacerbated our problems, since we were surrounded by offrcers from 3 Brigade HQ who worked at their desks all day in a secure environment and went to and from their homes with an Army escort. Once Fiona had settled in and began mixing socially with these offrcers'wives, her resentment at my enthusiasm for active service which was now manifested in the dangerous and secretive work of military intelligence only increased. Their lifestyle was necessarily very different from ours, and I can quite understand how she envied them. I tried very hard to compensate for what she regarded as selfishness, but so long as I remained dedicated to my work, it seemed it would prove an endless source of conflict. Nonetheless, from the day she arrived, I still retained the hope that we could find some means of compromise, but I had little time to listen sympathetically to her concerns and I felt resentful when I thought of tle Brigade Officers who were considered to be so clever for collecting Northein Ireland campaign medals without taking the least risk or ever discovering what it was like to go out into the community itself. It was community that I had to work in, and learn to understand, if I was to be successful in gathering Intelligence.

MILITARY INTELLIGENCE The key element in the work of a MIO is the ability to respond instantly to information received, and to follow it up without delay' That is not to say there is no routine. In fact, I soon settled down to regular nattgrn going into Mahon Road mid-morning, and seeing what the Army had

6een getting up to by checking through their logs and spea\ing to various peofle; reporting to the police station, and afterwards, driving down to Brigade HQ to give them a full briefing. After lunch, I would meet up with Bunny Dearsley and exchange material. Sometimes, after my second visit to the police station, I would brief HQ ag4in. And' once a month, there was a detailed breakdown ofevents to be delivered. Otherwise the early evening period would be spent with Bgnny q1d Sgt. I, patrolling seirsitive aieas, then coming back to the office to frle cirds on various individuals, type up reports and so on. I frnished work, generally, after midnight, in order to be able to respond effectively to activitiei after dark - more often, at about two in the morning' If any incidents occurred after that which was rare - we would listen to police messages on the Storno radios we kept beside us. Bunny and I also-used to work out where the scene of certain bombs had been simply by contacting one another after hearing the blast, and using basic triangulation methods arrive there before anyone else! Unlike Bunny, I used to turn my radio off. But he drove everyone around him crazy by listening continually to those disembodied voices, -piercin-g the 'squelchl which like a badcase oftinnitus, one learned only to endure. This, then, was the routine. And I suppose it is one that I would have followed or the next three years, slowly trying to gain the confidence of the police, and perhaps on the odd occasion managing to come up with some importanl InteUigence of my own. But, no sooner had I begun to grow used to this rather limited role, than everything changed for me once agarn. During these frrst few months the sources ot intbrmation that had come my way were distinctly low-grade' and the most dramatic incident -.s a. occasion at Brigade HQ Lurgan, when a RPGT grenade was launched at the Factory and blerv a hole in the wall. I remember peering through the shattered brickwork. with the heat marks radiat-

isers tliey had managed to gain through their own means. Beyond this, I began io use *y own initiative, given confidence by my association with Bunny and Sergeant I.

ing round it, at the whole vista of the Catholic estate in the distance, arirl for the drst time realising just what it meant to be here in Ireland. It redoubled my sense of personal security, so that my checks on- my car, the drills I followed when I was driving round the area - never let a

molor--cyclist pass you, always use minor roads if possible, and so on were kept to with the utmost diligence. I believe this was why I was chosen to work for MI6. One evening Bunny came into the oflice and asked me if I would do him a favour' He tiui Sgt. I needed someone to drive a car for them and not ask "aia questions. Ilmmediately pointed out that I was the officer and he the NCO, and that I was hardly going to act as their chauffeur' Bunny simpiy nodded, and said that any closer working relationship between ,t" *onldtt't be possible, if that was my feeling. There was something quite unusual in his attitude, so I changed my mind and agreed to do as he asked. On that occasion, I drove through a night ofpouring rain and parked on the outskirts ofa Republican area oflurgan. Bunny and Sgt I went offacross the fields. They were away for twenty minutes or so' There was no shooting or anything like that' They came back to the car, andwe drove offagain. There were two other such occasions. On the latter, they actually asked me to drive onto the Kilwilkie esiate - one of the most dangerous enclaves of all - and wait while they went into some flats there. I felt I couldn't put my life at risk any longer for something I didn't even understand, so I asked what was going on. The response surprisedme more than I could have imagined. Bunny said that he had talked to various people and there was no reason why I shouldn't know what it was all about. Mo"e than that, if I agreed, I could actually take on the work myself since he would soon be coming to the end of his tour. I still didn't know what he meant. But then he told me plainly -'We want you to work for MI6. I'll take you to see my boss as soon as possible'. I realised at once that this would put me in a wholy new position' I would have the authority to by-pass many of the obstacles that had been put in my way. I would gain immediate access to top gra$e *oor"6", since ivII6 only concerned themselves with top grade intelli gence; and sitting wai[ing like a schoolboy outside Sergeant R's offrce ivould become a mere memory. Yet I was also awaril that this would make my position regarding the Brigade even more dilficult. I was determined I should do everything by the board, so that if there were to be any trouble no one could accuse me of duplicity. So it was that when Bunny took me to Northern Ireland HQ to see 'his boss' my attitude was quite uncompromising. We went up the Security Corridor at the top ofthe building. A guard opened-the metal gate foi us, and Bunny took me down to a door at the far end' A iecretary then led us into a large, comfortable offrce. Awaiting us was craig smellie who introduced himself to me as the 'Political officer reminded me of Arthur Bt here'. He was a big, rotund man - if Bunny heref Elnslish perfect Robert Morlevy - dressed in Smellie was the oerfect then Sme-Jlie English, thpn

tweeds with ayellow waistcoat, with a monocle hangingoverhis lapel. His manner was charming, expansive. He began at once to tell me how Bunny had been working for him, and how he had been looking round for some time for a suitable replacement. Just as Dearsley worked as a MILO to preserve his cover, so I should continue to work as a MIO-but whatever doubts may have exist€d before about my primary responsibility would now be removed. I would be in the freld to gatn lntelligence for MI6 and both the Army and the police would be required to cooperate. fn a sense, I would be working directly to the top. I was flattered, but answered at once that I didn't think I could agree to anything unless I discussed it frrst with my CO, Colonel D. Smellie demurred, saying he would rather Colonel D was told nothing about it. When I insisted, he told me to go away for a few days and think about it. I duly went to see Colonel D the next day. He and his eecond in command were together in the offrce at Knock when I told them how

Smellie had approached me. Colonel D was delighted - and I soon discovered why. He immediately told me I should deliver secret copies of everything that came my way straight to him. Just as I had protested at Smellie's demands for thie kind of secrecy, I did so now to Colonel D. He too, seemed dissatisfied with my attitude. My only option, since I determined to play it all by the book, was to go back to Smellie in turn, tell him what I had done and leave any decision up to him. This I did, informing him of Colonel D's response. To my surprise, Smellie simply laughed, and without any hesitation picked up the phone to the Colonel and talked things out with him there and then. It was quickly agreed that I strould be recruited, but that I should submit duplicates of all my reports to my unit based at Knock. For once, I saw how there could be genuine cooperation in the best interests of everyone involved. Over the next few days Bunny Dearsley briefed me on the details of his work. It transformed my image of the province, and just what was going on there for I was no longer on the outside looking in, but actively involved. Bunny had been working two vitally important sources, on either side of the border who were responsible for a substantial part of the Intelligence which led to the identification and apprehension of IRA terrorists. The frrst had a particular code name which I shall not use here, but instead refer to as 'Dreamcoat'. He was a senior offrcer in the Provisional IRA, who had been recruited, or'turned'as so many Republicans have been, as a result ofa personal grievance. This involved a period spent in hospital, where the first contact was made. At that stage, Dreamcoat was a very frightened man, and the frrst thing he asked of Bunny was whether he could arrange protection for himself and his family for the following week or so; until he was sure that they were safe. Bunny agreed at once to go into his house, (disguised as a tramp and hidden in the back ofa van) and stay twenty-

four hours a day until Dreamcoat could frnd out what was going on'In fact Bunny stayed only frve days - and when he came out, he had a whole mound of IntelHgence on the activities of the IRA in Lurgan, Portadown and all the outlying areas, including the housing estates by the l-ough Shore, where information until this time had been very limited: names of individuals involved, sites where weapons were hidden, who was running them, and where they were coming from: the

whole Lackground to Dreamcoat's Battalion. Dreamcoat had also supplied him with the names of others, who had similar grievances,

but were less well placed in the organisation. From then on, there was barely any movement in the area that wasn't known about within an hour of its planning: who was travelling, where, in what transport, and along which routes. When I was recuited into MI6, Dreamcoat was still giving us the most valuable information, but was clever enough to maintain his cover within the Provisionals. I met him, with Bunny, and we grew to like and respect one another. I think I always remember him for one incident in p-articular. TVo men had come up from the south and were hiairrg ott Lousing estate in Craigavon. Dreamcoat didn't really know' " to describe the spot on the map, so we dressed him up as a exactly how Britisfi soldier, with helmel and goggles, and set him on top,of a saracen armouredcaffierbehindthe machine gun. we then setoffinto craigavon, and he was able todirect the driver right to the doorof the hous6 where the 'boys'were staying, so that all the soldiers had to do was run in and grabihem. Ifhewanted revenge forwhathadbeendone to him, I think that day he got it.

Dreamcoat was responsible for delivering into our hands two RPG 7's, along with countless bombs and explosives-. He personally lut the fi"g"" oi the Heaney bomb team, wJro were all arrested' Mr Heaney tat6r died in prison, and there was a big fuss about his innocence. But I was keenly involved in that operation, and absolutely 9ur9 tlat,the right peopie were picked up. More than this, Dreamcoat had relatives

in"thd South, serving in the Eire Army, and he was able to frx up contacts, particularly between the British and the Irish bomb disposal teams, *hich l"d to i number of successful operations - though here,

['m afraid, the nature of the'success'needs some qualification' Bunny had recruited someone of inestimable value in the Intellisence war. But this was not his only coup. Through various contacts, including Dreamcoat himself, Bunny was able to move across the border, alnd gather substantial Intelligence in Eire. His chief source there was a detective in County Monaghan, whose codename was the Badger. I first met the Badger shortly after I had been recruited into

asked me to gJout on another ofhis clandestine expeditions. Onlyihis time he told me we were actually going into thesouth. I was shocked at the time, but he said it had all been agreed at the highest level, and I had nothing to worry about. Knowing the attitude

wfiOlno""y

I wasn't so sure. But there was no point in my protesting. We duly crossed the border (passed through by the Garda, who knew of our visit) and drove on to Monaghan police station. We arrived at about halfpast nine in the evening. Bunny went into the station, and some time later returned with the policeman. He introduced me by name, thoughheused onlythe Gardaman's codename. He told the Badger that I worked with him now, and that when he left Ireland, it would be my job to take over all his sources. We talked for a while, and then the Badger handed over a file containing intelligence material, which we took back north with us. Such meetings became a frequent part of my work. The Badger furnished us with Intelligence on the movements and whereabouts of countless Republicans in the south, profiles on IRSP members, projected excursions into the north by wanted terrorists we could never otherwise have got our hands on. Just as importantly, he arranged 'clearance' on a number of occasions when cross-border operations were due to take place. In other words, he ensured that no undercover British team, or anyone acting on British orders, should come face to face with a Garda patrol of any kind. It is barely conceivable that the Badger - and the others who met us regularly during that period could have worked with us in such a way, unknown to their superiors. Their motivation never became wholly clear to me, and their involveof 3 Brigade HQ,

ment with us necessarily opens up a much more profound and complicated theme than the'turning'of Dreamcoat and other sources in the

north.

But during those first months in the Spring of 1974 I was not

concerned about such matters. I was gaining genuinely useful sources, with the authority of the'political office' behind me. There were two who principally engaged me - both female, both living in Republican strongholds. Each had a codename which, again, I have altered, along with certain details, to protect them.

Forlorn Hope was an attractive woman with various familial connections to the Provisionals, north and south of the border. Her recruitment came about through the indiscretion of a captain on attachment from the Royal Engineers to the Infantry stationed in the Portadown/Lurgan area. One morning, he was manning a roadblock on the Catholic estate which came under a torrent of abuse from a young woman leaning out of a nearby window. Breaking all the rules, he went into the house to give her a ticking off. Instead they were almostimmediately infatuated with each other. They agreed to meet secretly a few nights later and a clandestine affair began. Folorn Hope was engaged to be married, but her fiance had been working over the water for some time, and she was living unhappily with her parents. The officer decided he was on to a good thing, and arranged with her to obtain a flat in the neighbourhood. She furnished itwith a bed and an armchairandwhenever itwas possible, he ordered

whole Lackground to Dreamcoat's Battalion. Dreamcoat had also supplied him with the names of others, who had similar grievances,

wfiOlno""y

ment with us necessarily opens up a much more profound and complicated theme than the'turning'of Dreamcoat and other sources in the

north.

But during those first months in the Spring of 1974 I was not

his soldiers to guard the flat, while he had sex with the yourtg woman,

telling his soldiers he was using her as an intelligence source. It was Mrs Dearsley who first heard all about this through her

'teastop'grapevine. She told Bunny, and we decided at once to challenge the offrcer. He was so frightened his career would be ruined, especially since he was on detachment to another unit, he tried to bluff his way out with us, using the excuse of some kind of private intelligence work. He told us of Folorn Hope's connections. After discussing the matter, we decided the best course of action would be to call his bluff. We asked him to get answers to ten questions about the Monaghan area (who was there, what they were doing, etc.) and come back to us. Ifhe failed, I would report him for abusing his authority. He returned to us with most of the answers we expected. We then went directly to MI6, and asked for authority to recruit Folorn Hope. This offrcer was then instructed from the political offrce to be assigned to work directly for us. This, ofcourse, rekindled all the latent antagonism within the Brigade. The Colonel of the Battalion was furious, since no one had either consulted him, or indeed even thought of doing so. He was an ex-SAS man, and not the kind to take this sort of treatment without seeking to redress the balance. However, no one could have foreseen the consequen@s of his reaction.

Folorn Hope became another valuable sx)uroe, mostly in matters concerning cross-border activity, where the Intelligence she gave us could be double+hecked, through the Badger, and our other contacts, and on the various individuals in the Craigavon area. It was on similarly sexual grounds that Goldilocks came our way. She as an older woman, living in the Portadown area, divorced and, to put it bluntly, a n;rmphomaniac. Our first contact was when two letters addressed to a couple ofSergeants in the local battalion were passed onto the Regimental Sergeant-Mqjor by the post offrce. (Both the post office and telephone service worked closely with the Army and the police - monitoring private mail, relaying various calls, predominently involving Republicans.) The letters turned out to be pornographic photographs ofGoldilocks and another woman involved in various lesbian acts, and an invitation to the soldiers to return again for'More of the same'. A couple of weeks before this, I has already received a tip-offthat two soldiers had been seen visiting a house in a particular area, and that their lives were at risk from the local terrorists. I had tried, without success, to find out who they were. It seemed that I now had the answer. I consulted with the CO concerned, and then checked to find out ifthe woman could be of any use to us. It transpired that she had a long reputation for seducing RUC men, that her house was situated in a perfect spot for observation, and she herselfwould be likely to prove a useful low grade source. Armed with all this, I took the two NCOs with me and knocked on her door. They then went upstairs and had sex with

I sat in the lounge watching television. When she came down again, I put it to her that, if she would let us use her house twenty her, while

four hours a day for observation, I would personally ensure that soldiers would be made available to her whenever she required. Once I had squared this with the various authorities concerned, it all went ahead smoothly: two unmarried senior NCOs were provided from every incoming unit, and we used the house to keep tabs on a number of activities in the area, which resulted in several arresLs, and a steady flow of information. When it became necessary, we moved her into a different area; but as is the case with most sourceg, through her we made contact with others. So the network spread, and when one had to leave for safety's sake, another would take over the role. The whole business with Goldilocks may sound clinical, and sexist but these were her sexual needs, and the deal we struck was immediately attractive to her. In fact, I grew very fond ofher over the months, though I personally had no place in the deal itself, and was constantly at pains to keep my distance. When I picked her up to debrief her, it was my habit to drive out to a secluded spot in the Mourne Mountains, and

park by a small knoll. Meanwhile my FINCO, Sgt.Iwouldgoup separately covering my rear and then position himself on another knoll where he could cover the whole area with a Mark 4 sniper rifle 303 convertedtoT.62 with a scope. Through the scope he would watch me inching further and further away from Goldilocks, as she pulled up her skirt and leaned further over me, until I was nearly half-way out of the window, still trying to

debriefher on events in her locality. She used to buy me cufflinks from Woolworths, and bottles of overpowering aftershave and so on, which I dutifully took home,and tried to explain to my wife. I wasn't so straightlaced as to be unsympathetic to her loneliness, or the pathos ofher needs, but I had to treat her professionally. And, in purely professional terms, it was worth it. She supplied a constant stream of information on people with weapons, robberies carried out to bolster terrorist funds, bricked-up or deserted houses used as caches, and on the members of junior paramilitary groups and their clubhouses. These frfteen and sixteen year olds would all get recruited, we would find out who they were, arrest them, and break the grcup up. A month or two later, another one would start. We would let them get organized - take over some old garage or whatever, put their posters and flags up and so on, and then simply go in and lift, them again. Thanks to Goldilocks, more than anyone else, we were always a step ahead.

There is one occasion I will always remember her for. She rang me up,sounding very pleased with herself, to tell me she knew there were weapons in a certain bricked-up house, not far from hers. She des-

his soldiers to guard the flat, while he had sex with the yourtg woman,

telling his soldiers he was using her as an intelligence source. It was Mrs Dearsley who first heard all about this through her

I sat in the lounge watching television. When she came down again, I put it to her that, if she would let us use her house twenty her, while

cribed them to me - and I was quickly able to identifu them as ones that had been used in a recent incident. As a result of her information, we got a search team in the next morning, with a dog, and all the usual gear. They turned the place upside down but all they found was a clip of .22 ammunition, which was hidden in a container, fixed behind a light switch. Eventually the house was declared clear. I was very angry with her, and let her know. I'd been dressed all morning as a UDR oflicer, keeping an eye on things, since it was my intelligence that had sent the team in; and of course, when no weapons were found, it could only reflect badly on me. However, no sooner had I

that be were really to grasp the nettle, much of the sting would disappear. Since his assassination one ofthese officers has been held up as an example of heroism and devotion to duty. I have my own memories of Captain Robert Nairac and they are mixed. I liked him and saw him as a younger version of myself. He was keen and brave, if a little rash, but totally committed to the war against the terrorists. However there was another side to Robert that I was to learn about. The unit he was

involved with, with the cover title '4 Field Survey Tloop, Royal Engineers', was involved with the murdering of suspected and known

finished receiving some sceptical teasing at Mahon Road, than

key members of the IRA. '4 Field Survey Tloop'was located at Castle

Goldilocks came on the phone again to say that the guns were being moved at that very moment. Immediately, we all drove down there again, and sure enough, we caught two men carrying the weapons: an automatic submachine gun and a rifle. They were atrested atonce, and sent to prison for trial. Goldilocks had been right all along. Where

cover fooled the genuine Engineers. The compound housing'4 Field Survey Troup'was guarded by Ministry of Defence Police - something any ordinary soldier, used to routine guard duties, knows is highly

those weapons were hidden, I couldn't say. But she hadn't let me down,

after all. This, then, was the kind of work in which I was involved after my initial recruitment into M16. Of course, the routine aspects of my MIO duties went on, though once the police knew what I was doing, their attitude towards me quickly improved. Now, in addition to my briefings to Brigade HQ, and my own unit at Knock, I also had monthly meetings with Smellie at Lisburn, and there were the standard monthly gatherings of all the SMIUs where information was exchanged, trends examined and predicted, and an overall picture ofthe

warbuilt up. The SMIU meetings took place at 12 Intelligence and Security Company, in a large lecture room complex at Lisburn Barracks. The MIO, FINCO and one or two LINCOs from each police divisional area about 50 ofus in all - would sit and be lectured by the Colonel on police initiatives and so on. We would adjourn to the bar afterwards. At private discussions, two things became plain to us all. One, it seemed to us that the predominantly Protestant RUC was inveterately biased and this attitude appeared to be responsible for many miscarriages of

justice. This was hardly surprising, as many of the police themselves either belonged to, or had close relations in, the Protestant outlawed groups. Two, as fast as you got the Republicans locked up, and so were able to turn your attention as a unit to the Protestants, and not rely on them policing themselves, the British government were responsible for releasing the Republicans on parole, to put you back to square one. This happened twice, quite blatantly, in my area.

Whatever the case, as soldiers, we were only too aware that we were being kept in work, in many senses, artificially, and that if the powers

Dillon with a genuine engineer regiment. It had a second level of cover as 'Northern Ireland Tlaining and Tactics Team'(NITAT). Neither

unusual. The unit possessd civilian 'Q' cars fitted with sophisticated communications linked to an operations room in one of the wooden barack blocks in the compound. The personnel were issued with non-standard weapons as well as Army issued ones. American MACII (Ingram) silenced sub-machine guns, Remington folded-butt light-weight pump-action shotguns, and Sterling MK5 silenced sub-machine guns were all bonowed from this unit by me for my own operations. More ominously, in a cupboard in their arrnourJ/ was a tray of 9mm Browning pistol barrels, extractors and frring pins which had been 'cast' - declared unsuitable for uso because of wear and tear and therefore (olficially) destroyed by the Army. These'cast'parts couldbe placed in normal issue Brownings, fired, degtroyed, and replaced with the original'offrcial'parts. This would make it impossible to connect the weapon with any shooting-there would be no ballistics evidence. To this day, although acknowledging that such a unit existed in the

1960's t,Le Ministry of Defence claims that all records of it have been destroyed, and they are thus unable to answer any questions about it. More recently the second level ofcover for'4 Field Survey Tloop'that of NITATT, has been described as a covert intelligence unit, but its title has been altered. now, we are told, in the book Ambush (James Adams and others, Pan 1988) that this unit.was, in fact, a part of a hitherto unheard of '14th Intelligence Company'. To my knowledge,'l4th Intelligence'was formed long aft,er the events I described and this book isjust the latest in a long line ofattempts to conceal the fact that the SAS were operating out of Castledillon in Armagh long before the government of the day was aware of it. But although like Bunny, I was always armed - with a Walther

I carried in a waist holster, or with an Ingram submachine gun, borrowed from the SAS for particular operations - I never shot a single terrorist, nor did I take part in any ofthe SAS's PPK, which