Category Archives: History

De-Bunking the Myth of the “Battle” of St. Matthews

De-Bunking the Myth of the Battle of St. Matthews.

 

Saturday 27th and Sunday 28th of June 1970 will live long in the memory of those who were witness to the horrific events that unfolded that weekend.  Of the two people and many others who were injured by the indiscriminate gunfire their families pain has been exacerbated in the intervening years as they have had to endure the ignominy of the perpetuated untruth that somehow this incident was some sort of glorious battle honour by the Short Strand IRA, and that their sectarian murderous attacks were in actual fact heroic defending of a ghetto under siege.  So much so that an erroneous moniker of “The Battle of Saint Matthews” was bestowed upon it.  However all right thinking citizens are well aware of the FACTS surrounding that day’s events and can quite easily debunk this theoretical falsehood.
Almost one year after the onset of “The Troubles” the Republican movement and the Belfast IRA in particular were in disarray.  In July and August of 1969 they, as a grouping had done little—in the eyes of the Catholic population in working class areas—to defend those communities from the “Loyalist hordes “.  The acronym now read I Ran Away.  Behind the scenes an idealistic shift was also taking place—a shift that would eventually –and inevitably lead to fractions within the movement, culminating in feuds and counter feuds.  The new hardliners—although many were seasoned veterans of the organisation–were making their presence felt.  Individuals like Francis Card—BillyMcKee—Joe Cahill-Seamus Twomey and Leo Martin.  McKee, as the Belfast Brigade commander knew that 
in order to make a statement and win back the affections of the disillusioned Catholic inhabitants he needed a victory—something that would announce the arrival of the new Provisional movement.

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Who Fears To Speak Of Easter Week: Dr. John Coulter

Who Fears to Speak of Easter Week

 

Dr John Coulter blog

By Dr John Coulter

Political Commentator

21/3/2016

easter week

Many republicans need to ‘wise up’ and actually read the 1916 Proclamation.

Just as the increasingly secular and pluralist society has changed the true meaning of both Easter and Christmas by editing Christ out and converting it into a commercial festival, Irish republicans are guilty of editing God out of the Proclamation of Poblacht na hEireann, issued during the failed Rising. Read more »

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From the Archives-A Poem by Finbarr O’Farrell

This poem by Finbarr O’Farrell first appeared in a Workers Party publication in the late 1980′s.  Christy Moore, along with many other celebrities,from Ireland and further afield pledged their allegiance to the Irish cause at the time.  Moore in particular was vociferous in his support of the “Republican Struggle”-without perhaps pausing to ponder what the human cost was.  It may have interfered with his celebruty status.

Pulp: Finbarr O’Farrell

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Let Big Ian Rest in Peace: Unionist Elite Must Shoulder Blame: Dr. John Coulter

Let Big Ian Rest in Peace

 

It’s a bit rich Messrs Trimble and Galway sticking the boot in old Paisley over the causes of the Troubles when it was the backstabbing Hard Right of the Unionist Party which stoked the fires in the first place!

I grew up in Bannside, the heartland of the Paisley fiefdom of North Antrim. Unionism in the late Sixties was dominated by the ‘Big House, Fur Coat Brigade’.

These aristocratic Unionists basked in the luxury of flushing toilets, while many working class Protestants still had to rely on the slop bucket.

Membership of the middle class dominated Unionist Party was by invitation only. Many working class loyalists were no better off than third class African natives from the colonies.

The crisis facing these down-trodden Prods was brutally expressed by an original Paisley supporter who later became heavily involved with the vigilante Ulster Third Force.

I interviewed this loyalist for a book, The Orange Card’, which the late Independent Orange boss and DUP MLA George Dawson got banned two weeks before publication.

To this loyalist, the Fur Coat Brigade posed as serious a threat to working class Protestants as republicans.

He said: “The problem for ordinary people like myself was that Henry Clark (the Unionist MP for North Antrim in the late 1960s) and people like him were unapproachable.

“I personally went to the late Terence O’Neill because of my eviction by the Fur Coat Brigade and he didn’t want to know me.

“All he did was try to pass the buck. The sitting Unionists were not interested in us folk, unless you had a family of eight to 10!

“In the early days, I listened to Paisley. I thought this was the right sort of system because he confronted the Fur Coat Brigade.”

But this Paisley activist – a Church of Ireland member – would disrupt invitation-only Unionist Party meetings by infiltrating them and shouting down the speakers, such as Chichester-Clark.

“I had contacts in the Right-wing of the Unionist Party who were opposed to O’Neill and Chichester-Clark’s reforms and they got me the passes to get into the Unionist Party meetings,” he said.

“An Orangeman in Clough tipped me off about a meeting in Cloughmills at which Chichester-Clark was to speak.

“About a dozen of us were in the meeting. Some were singing ‘Paisley, Paisley’. Others were more threatening. It got that rough that Chichester-Clark could not get started.”

The impact of these disruptive tactics was to force the Unionist Party to abandon public meetings, especially those in Orange halls.

Many Fur Coat Brigade activists could not cope with the constant heckling and left both politics and the Orange Order as Unionist Party branches shut.

But it should not be forgotten that these working class Protestant hecklers got their tip-offs and passes from Right-wing Unionist Party members – not Ian Paisley.

Don’t start slabbering again about the alleged role of the late Paisley simply because he’s dead and an easy target.

Such moralising gobshites should turn their attention to the militant agenda of the Hard Right in the Fur Coat Brigade-run Unionist Party who used Paisley supporters as political cannon fodder to undermine O’Neill, Chichester-Clark and Faulkner’s liberal agenda.

If the Hard Right had had the balls to implement a power-sharing Executive, such as the one we now have at Stormont, there would have been no Sinn Fein in government, no IRA, and Paisley senior would have joined the ranks of Hell-fire evangelists and never followed his wife into politics.

Paisley may have been guilty of throwing snowballs at Sean Lemass’s car as the then Taoiseach visited Stormont.

But what sunk O’Neill and company was not Paisley, but the Hard Right Fur Coat Brigade within the Unionist Party who wanted their aristocratic heels kept on the necks of the North’s working class – both Catholic and Protestant.

John Coulter

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Tom Vallance: First Rangers Captain

Tom Vallance

Tom Vallance was very much a man for his time. It is inconceivable the many and varied talents this man was blessed with would have been allowed to flourish if he had been a footballer of the modern era. He was accomplished in so many fields. Arguably the most outstanding Scottish footballer of his era, he also held the Scottish long jump record for many years and was a keen rower.

Tom was a hugely impressive physical specimen, standing six feet two inches at a time when the average Scottish male was about five feet seven inches in height. He was, though, a gentle giant. He was an accomplished artist, exhibits being accepted on two occasions by the Royal Scottish Academy. He was also a prize-winner for the breeding of birds and dogs.

Tom Vallance was born at Succoth Farm, near Renton in 1856.  In his early years, the family Vallance moved to Shandon, north of Rhu and a short distance from the home of the McNeil family.  It was probably here that the future captain and president of the Rangers met the pioneer brothers Peter and Moses.

The census of 1871 tells us Tom was a “civil engineer’s apprentice”.  Soon, though, he moved to Glasgow in search of work.  He succeeded, employment coming as a mechanical engineer in a shipyard.  Shortly after arriving in Glasgow, he joined the Clyde Amateur Rowing Club.

The road from the Gareloch to the big city had already been taken by the Campbells and the McNeils.  The schoolboy friends met up again and Tom joined the football club recently started by his friends.  Vallance soon made his mark in the popular new sport.  A natural athlete, he settled into the full back role, reaching prominence, with his teammates, in the matches of the 1877 Scottish Cup Final against Vale of Leven.  He was also a born leader, the first of the line of the great Rangers’ captains.  By the end of the decade, he was the finest footballer in Scotland and England.  In 1879, he had his brother Alick beside him in the first Rangers’ side to win a trophy, the Glasgow Merchants’ Charity Cup.

Tom made his first appearance for Scotland in 1877, in a 3-1 victory over England at the Kennington Oval.  He would face the “Auld Enemy” on three further occasions, including victories of 7-2 in 1878 and 6-1, in 1881.  Rangers’ colleagues George Gillespie and David Hill played in that match, the latter scoring Scotland’s second goal.  Tom also had three victories over the Welsh to think back on in his twilight years.  The only blot on an otherwise perfect international career was the 4-5 defeat at the Oval in 1879.  The men in dark blue had led by 4-1 at half-time!

In February, 1882, Tom Vallance made the bold decision to seek out a new career in the tea plantations of the northeastern Indian state of Assam.  It was a move that nearly cost Tom his life.  Within a few months of arriving in India, the great athlete was struck down by a form of malaria. He made the decision to return to Scotland.

He played three times for Rangers in 1883/84 season but it was clear the illness had taken its toll of Tom’s health.  His final game in his beloved light blue was in a 9-2 victory over Abercorn at Kinning Park.  (He did, though, appear for the “Ancients” for a number of years.)

In retrospect, it can be argued that Tom Vallance’s contribution to the fortunes of the Rangers was greater, more important, off the field of play rather than on it.  During Vallance’s time in India, John Wallace Mackay had come to power in the role of honorary match secretary; power he would wield to the great detriment of the Club.  Tom was appointed club president in 1883, the first of six seasons in the role.  His commitment to the role achieved great support for him in his battle to control the excesses of the greatly unpopular Mackay.

By now, Tom was a travelling salesman in the wine and spirit trade.  This was the first rung on the ladder to a successful career in the hospitality industry.  It would eventually lead to Tom becoming a highly-respected restaurateur, the owner of three city restaurants.

He also settled into married life.  His bride on 18 August, 1887 was Marion, sister of Tom’s team-mate, Willie Dunlop.  Brother Alick was Tom’s best man.

Tom and Marion had two sons.  Harold, born in 1889 and James two years later.  In between the births of the boys, Tom took ownership of his first restaurant, The Club at 22 Paisley Road West which is now The Viceroy Bar He would later take into his portfolio, “The Metropolitan” in Hutcheson Street and “The Lansdowne” in Hope Street.

Like so many of their generation, the Vallances suffered the loss of a son in the Great War.  Second Lieutenant Harold Vallance died only six weeks before the end of hostilities, in September, 1918.  Tom had also had to bear the loss of his much-loved sibling, Alick.  He died, aged only thirty-eight, in 1898.

Tom Vallance succumbed to a stroke at his home at 189 Pitt Street on 16 February, 1935. Appropriately, Rangers won that day, a victory by three goals to one over Airdrieonians at Ibrox.

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The Great War-Ulster Greets Her Brave and Faithful Sons.

The Great War. Ulster Greets Her Brave and Faithful Sons. 1919.

( Printed by WG Baird,  Royal Avenue.)

I was given this book and an Ulster Covenant recently by a friend. Both are a bit like myself – old battered and but still hanging together. I’m pretty sure they are genuine.  The Covenant appears to be covered in Linseed oil and over the years it has become brittle. The writing on both book and Covenant concerns a William Curry Junior who signed the Covenant on that day in 1912. I checked the Covenant roll on the PRONI site and found that 8 William Curry’s had signed at the City hall. Is it possible that William Curry Jnr went to war and got back safely or was he too young to go? It is difficult to precisely identify who this person was.

There are a number of interesting points in terms of the context of 1919. Ireland was still one country. The Easter uprising and subsequent executions had taken place 3 years previously and N.Ireland was still 2 years off.  In Belfast, events were starting to shape another round of killings in the small back streets.  The first RIC officer was killed by republicans and Dail Eireann was outlawed by the British government.

The book appears to be written by the ‘Citizens Committee to the Ulster Service Men’  which was headed by the Lord Mayor,  J.C. White. It is classed as a souvenir of the Peace Day Saturday 9th August 1919.   The book starts by looking at the financial contributions to the war effort.  References are made to the ‘North of Ireland’. Belfast had contributed over 46,000 men to the army. The Ulster woman’s gift fund raised 120,000 for POWs which was a considerable amount in the early 20th century. Hospitals are mentioned which were involved in treating men who returned. The UVF hospital in Botanic Avenue,  Galwally, Craigavon,  Gilford and the ‘Mental Hospital on the Grosvenor Road’.

The first chapter concerns the  36th (Ulster)  Division which is a brief rundown of the  structure and  the events of 1st July 1916.  After the Somme, mention is made of the 36th at Cambrai and St Quentin. Quite a few changes had taken place in the Division after the slaughter at Thiepval.  Moving on quickly the chapter covers Messines and Bailleul in 1918 when the suffering began again. The final period of the war showed that the Ulster Division was fighting alongside  their Belgian compatriots in the Courtrai (now Kortrijk  ) area.  The war ended on November  1918. Many Ulster men would have been based in Mouscron.  The Division did not begin to return to Ulster until the next year but they had a special visitor in January 1919 in the shape of the Prince of Wales.  He who would become  Edward VIII but would  abdicate in 1936. There are then brief official histories of some of  the battalions of the division.  On page 47 there is a list of decorations won by the division which includes 9 Victoria Crosses, 71 Distinguished Service Orders, 459 Military Crosses and 1294 Military Medals.

The next chapter concerns the Tenth Division at Gallipoli. It notes that the North of Ireland provided 5 battalions into the division. This division was sent to Gallipoli in August 1915. Another debacle. After the clear defeat by the Turkish forces the Division was sent to Servia in September 1915. They would stay in the Balkans for 2 years before going to Egypt via Palestine. The division was so weakened it did not serve as a whole in the latter stages of the war in France. The 5/ 6/ th Royal Irish Fusiliers were gassed at Anchy before fighting their way across the La Bassee Haute canal.  At one point they were transferred into the 16th Irish Division.

The next chapter is devoted to the Ulster presence in the 16th Irish Division. This was in the form of the Inniskilling and Royal Irish fusiliers.  This division is cited as a ‘great division’ and nobly  upholding ‘the fame of Irishmen as fighters’.   Mention is explicitly made of the 6th Battalion,  Connaught Rangers which had 600 men from Belfast, “.. chiefly from the Falls road..”  Mention is made of the attacks by the Division on Guinchy and Gullemont before the great attack on Messines-Wytschate in June 1917. This is where the Irish and Ulster Divisions would fight, suffer, and die,  side by side.

Further chapters cover various battalions e.g.  1st and 2nd Regular Battalions of the Irish Rifles. Mention is made of the Territorials and the Woman’s Army.  In terms of the women’s contribution mention is made of the Queens Marys Army Corp as well as Queen Alexandria’s nursing service.  Women are recognised as nursing here in the north and in many places in France. Ulster women are praised  for  doing important work here and in  Coventry where they  worked  in munitions factories. There is a list of the V.C. winners and a brief account of their actions.  Reference is made to Ulster’s contribution to the Navy which has been understated in many other accounts of the Great War.

It would appear that Saturday August 9th 1919 in Belfast was a big day. Special trains laid on, much ado in the local press exhorting people to come out. The march would go down the Antrim road, Clifton Street, Donegal street, Royal Avenue and finish in the Ormeau Park where food had been laid on for the men and women.    Reading this piece of history raise so many questions.  It has certainly glossed over the horrendous aspects of the war.  It may not have bene intended as spin but it could be seen as glamorising to some extent the war.

Another topic of the book is the money donated to the war effort but what monies were donated to the aftercare of the returning rifleman or private?  Note the headline Urgent appeal to get another £13,000, a huge amount in those days, for what end? Admittedly both ordinary citizens and the Government would be short of cash but it’s the old, old story; if a conflict is involved there always seems to be money for that.  So accepting a day out, a march, a meal and a booklet what else was given to the returning soldiers?  I do not know nor will this booklet tell us. I suspect that fact would not be announced from the roof tops.  It also seems somewhat ironic that some of the Ulster soldiers would return to Belfast, leaving the horrors of the trenches behind.  A Belfast where in a short period of time they would hear the echoes of war on the streets with rifle fire and massed riots.

The booklet and Covenant are genuine pieces of our history.  Fascinating to think they lasted this long. Fascinating to think of the changes and events since that day,  over 95 years ago.

Jason

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The War Behind The Wire: A Book Review by Primo

The War behind the Wire’

John Lewis Stempel.

Phoenix 2014.

    I have read many excellent accounts of the first World War and the role of the Ulster men (and Irish men ) in that conflict.  I have walked the ground that the Ulster men fell on, and disappeared into, on that fateful 1st July morn 1916. I have walked past the many hundreds of uniform grey headstones in the Somme valley. One of them belongs to a family member. I had the pleasure and privilege to speak face to face with a veteran of the trenches.  However it was only recently that I learned of a large group of men who did not have the banner and victory parade treatment unlike other wars and conflicts. They are not immortalised in song and popular culture.  After 1919 these stories were not taken up by the press because there was a feeling of not upsetting the Germans and everything would be OK.  It only took 20 years for that particular idea to be proved so terribly wrong.   This book is about the British (and other nationalities) who were prisoners of war under the Germans in WW1.

This is an amazing book which must have taken years of research.  The stories are rich and unbelievable.  The book is a roller coaster of colliding feelings and emotions. From the virtual torture of captured prisoners including executions (war crimes) to the humane and lifesaving  treatment of British, Irish, French and Russian prisoners by ordinary German soldiers.  The book covers the class system that ran throughout both British and German society and armies, the ignoring of the rules regarding captured enemy soldiers during hostilities and making captured prisoners do manual work not related to the war effort.

The author tries to get away from the shallow and blasé notion of the second world war films around Colditz that it was a jolly good idea to have a go and escape. Getting home to the UK was a ‘home run’ and all that. The reality for many was terrible. Left to freeze without adequate food or medical assistance. Worked to death in mines.  Locked in railway carriages without food or toilet.   Reminiscent of what was awaiting the Jews (and others) in the Second World War.  The Germans had a particular dislike for the captured Canadians.  They thought them interfering and over paid. Despite the real risk of execution some  prisoners made escape attempts, some successful, some quite bizarre and for some it was their death knell.

This book is not a novel nor is it easy reading. The pages are full of real people, ordinary people, in unreal circumstances. There is heroism and there is comradeship.  There are things that are just wrong. Like Germans convicted after the war, of letting prisoners,  caged and weak from malnutrition, die without help. These Germans would be tried in a German court  and be given a soft 6 months in open prison conditions.

One story of a British POW stands out for its grossness.  The Germans realised that the Irish prisoners had issues with the British at home. The Irish would be released if they left the British army. To their credit only 54 out of 2500 jumped ship to the Germans. One of the Irishman, Corporal R Dempsey , refused to jump ship. He was tied to a post in the snow as used as spitting practice as Germans walked past. (P.102) Imagine the humiliation,  and then, when he returned home he would be regarded as a traitor.

And what of the Ulster men who endured these conditions?  There is very little written about the returning soldiers. Remember that the Ulster Division (and many other divisions) were decimated and worse. It is now over  100 years (9th May) since the 36th Ulster Division, the pride of Ulster, marched past the City Hall to go and train in England before making their way to Thiepval and immortality. However the price of that sacrifice was huge. The depleted Ulster Division would be supplemented by the English, Scottish and Welsh.   It is difficult to say who got home first, the volunteers or the released prisoners.  Some prisoners died on their way home having tasted freedom but not deliverance. They left Ulster with pride but on arriving home in 1919 or 1920 they came home to political upheaval, changes in social attitudes,  huge changes in Ireland, an uncertain future and now with the prospect of deep  civil conflict at home.  And what of the injured – both physical and mental? How where they treated?  How do you live in a society with no social security?  Who supported them?

Who were these unfortunates? Henry Atkin from the Shankill, wounded and taken prisoner;  J Anderson rifleman from the East Belfast, H Bailie,  a private from Frome street,  who died while a prisoner of the Germans and S. Lyttle , a private with the Munster Fusiliers from the Donegall Pass. These four names of over 700 men listed as PoWs. But Ulstermen from all parts of Ulster would end up at the Kaisers ‘pleasure’.  The book dispels the notion of the stigma of being captured, or even worse surrendering,  in order to get away from the atrocious trench conditions. In one German camp there was a higher death rate among soldiers than at the front line of the Somme.

The names of the prison camps are strange, lost to history and certainly not in the public consciousness.   Doberitz, Limberg, Zossen, Holzminden, and many more. (See http://www.1914-1918.net/soldiers/powcamps.html for a handy list)  Some were hellish places were the worst aspects of the human nature were  expressed. Lamsdorf was one of the largest camps with  90,000 men including British, Russian and Italian. Over 7000 men would perish there.  So why are these names not remembered  the same way as Colditz and Auschwitz ? At the end of World war 1 a  British public, weakened by war and sickened by the grim reality of the eyeless and legless shells that masqueraded for men on their return,  meant they had no appetite and no cause for jingoistic language afterwards.  If you read this book you will learn of a hidden,  forgotten world. But these men, all of them, deserve to be remembered every bit as much as the men who suffered in the trenches. This book is thought provoking, humbling and disturbing in places.  It is a book I will be keeping on my shelf for a long time.

Remember them also.

Primo

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Colin: A story by Primo

‘Colin’

 

1975 in Belfast was a violent year. Many people died due to the troubles, many more were wounded both physically and mentally.  This is the story of one of those victims.  For reasons outlined later Im not using his real name.  Slightly older than myself I recall him from my school days. A bit chubby,  easy going  and very quiet. Not one of us who run the streets kicking football, collecting for the boney and later drinking cider up the local entry. He lived with his mum. One night he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was hit by an IRA bullet. One other man died. One other was injured. Colin  had never been in trouble. Had never been in court. But as well as his physical wounds the attack left a terrible mental legacy. Colin  had what we called in the old days a nervous  breakdown. He was never the same person after the IRA shot him for being at a pub door.  Undoubtedly an innocent bystander, an unfortunate,  collateral damage, just the way things were. No apology was offered to him or his mother.  His physical wounds healed but it was obvious that Colin had changed greatly and was not coping.  Colin would never marry, never have children, never have a full time job, and never go on a big holiday.

Only for his mother I wonder what would have become of Colin. His mother was a small, quiet, house proud ,working class Belfast woman. I most often saw her out brushing and sweeping the front of her home. Her neighbour was a good friend of our family. She lived yards from my parents.  It was a tight knit community were people knew each other over decades. I would stop and chat with her and ask about Colin. A stable form of routine and stability had been established. Colin was a real Linfield man. He would go watch a match then go for a drink,  then home. His mother done all the cleaning,  cooking and everything else.

Colin  then started to sport a beard.  When we talked I would be teasing and slagging about the blues. (Despite being a supporter myself!) I then started to tease him about the beard. Which actually suited him.  If he had the correct attire he would remind me of some pictures of Henry VIII.  We had some discussion about his excessive drinking of Coke. This,  despite the diabetes that he had developed.  It all came crashing to an abrupt end in 1994. I lived close by and someone came to the door to say that Colins mother had taken seriously ill and was in hospital.  Eventually I got talking to Colin  and he explained as best he could. I offered to go to the RVH with him.  His mum was in bed unconscious and hadn’t spoken since admission. The nurse was keen to talk to me and ask various questions. Obviously they had assessed the mental state of Colin  and wanted someone else as a contact.  I gave my contact details.
It was explained that the mother had suffered a major stroke and was not expected to survive. I stood beside Colin  at the bedside. He looked puzzled.  He wasn’t given to expressing how he was feeling.

He simply said that he mum wasn’t well. I agreed and tried to explain the situation. I was unsure as to his level of comprehension.  Eventually we went home. I asked if he was OK and he said yes. I returned home to my wife and children. No sooner had I got into bed than the phone rang and it was the RVH. Please get Colin up here asap.  Up out of bed,  dragging clothes on, grabbling car keys. Rapping and kicking Colins door.  Urging him to hurry. It was late and thankfully with next to no traffic. I may  have went through some red lights?  I was prepared to take the consequences but I needed Colin  to see his mum. While she was still alive.

It was too late. She had died peacefully. We told Colin quietly. I will never forget that scene. Colin was standing beside his mother’s bed. The ward was deathly quiet. And dark. I walked away to give Colin  some privacy to say whatever he had to say.  He turned to me and said,  ‘my mums sleeping’.  I just agreed.   Eventually we had to go home. I rang my wife and said I was staying with Colin  for that night. Then another bombshell.  There had been a major falling out in the family and there was no one to take over the situation.  I took work off the next day.  Undertaker,  hospital,  register death, check insurance policies, make lunch, pick a coffin, contact friends, death notice in the Tele.  I was watching for any signs that Colin was not coping with this but he seemed unperturbed and strangely calm.  The funeral came and went. It was with pride that I think back to the circle of friends and mates that Colin had.  Collectively we helped him through. That circle of friends would be needed again.

What now?

Colin carried on in his home  with good  outside support around cleaning and cooking. And he got back to a routine which was important for him. Neighbours kept an eye out. I dropped the bantering and teasing. We spent a bit more time talking to him but his general health started to fail. One day I was told that Colin was in the City hospital. His stays in hospital were becoming more frequent. When I visited him I felt he was a bit failed. Some weight loss? We went out of the ward to a visitor’s room where he told me that he had MRSA.  This was when MRSA was making its way into the public consciousness and was seen as akin to the black plague.  It didn’t seem to fuss or upset him. Then again nothing seemed to fuss him.  I had never heard him bewail his situation. Or curse fate. Or wish it all away. No moaning,  no self-pity or  bitterness.

The inevitable came and Colin died of a range of issues.  The ceasefires had come into being but far, far too late for Colin.  Again friends rallied round. The small funeral parlour service was packed.  Out at the cemetery we buried Colin with his mother. I think she would be happy with that.  Her only child was now back with her. She spent her lifetime looking after him.  And now,  together for ever.

There are no poems or songs about Colin. There were no TV people  or journalists asking about his story.  No name on a wall plaque. No bands with his name emblazoned on a drum. A Google search does not produce one mention of the man or his life.  Another forgotten victim of the troubles.  His story is part of the price paid by so many no matter where they came from.  The unseen and unmeasured suffering   that dominated so many lives. The IRA men were caught and imprisoned for life.  They were all out by the time Colin’s mother had died. Colin didn’t die that dark cold night in ’75  but in a way his future died.   Maybe we should tell the story of everybody hurt through the troubles?  Get away from the hierarchy of victims.  Drop the them and us?  See the person and not the label?

Primo

 

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” Humbly Relying on the God Whom our Fathers in Days of Stress and Trial Confidently Trusted”: Charlie Freell

“HUMBLY RELYING ON THE GOD WHOM OUR FATHERS IN DAYS OF STRESS AND TRIAL CONFIDENTLY TRUSTED”?

 

Above is the declaration of faith in the Christian cornerstone and foundations of Original Authentic Ulster Loyalism, made by our Forefathers in 1912 and the Ulster Volunteers of the early seventies, as they prepared to defend, by the use of force if necessary, Civil and Religious Liberty for all and the democratic right of the People of Northern Ireland to decide their own future. This sincere pledge was ended as follows. “IN SURE CONFIDENCE THAT GOD WILL DEFEND THE RIGHT, WE HERETO SUBSCRIBE OUR NAMES.”

 

The majority of the Ulster Volunteers of 1912 and the early seventies, would probably not have described themselves as sincerely practicing Christians,

or the guardians of strict, Human Moral Decency.   However, nearly every one

of these Ulster Volunteers would have expressed a basic belief in God and a desire for civilised standards, of basic Human Moral and sexual Decency. It was in fact because these basic Christian and basic human moral beliefs that, they had found themselves in the dangerous positions that, they were in.

 

As they prepared to go over the top, the vast majority of these brave Ulster Volunteers will have silently and privately turned to God in prayer, to ask for forgiveness of sins, protection in the coming battle and a request for the Salvation promised and earned by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

 

At this point it is worth remembering that, Civil and religious Liberty becomes an abuse of Civil and Religious Liberty if, it is used to force someone to support, inscribe, or subscribe to, something which they sincerely believe contradicts their own sincerely held, basic Human Moral Principles.

 

Once again Northern Ireland is about to enter a period of “stress and trial”. The IRA/Sinn Fein are in a stronger position than they have ever been before, both politically and militarily, both here and in the Republic of Ireland.

The IRA/Sinn Fein are on the verge of becoming the Government of the Republic, if not in the coming election then in the following election. The end result will then be that, the IRA/Sinn Fein will have total control of all the arms and the Armed Forces of the Republic at their disposal.

Here in Northern Ireland, the numerous new variations of anything goes Loyalism, are all totally divided, some of them even claim to be religious, but they all lack the basic Christian corner stone of Original Authentic Ulster Loyalism and ” THE SURE CONFIDENCE THAT GOD WILL DEFEND THE RIGHT”.

Thanks to their combined totally selfish personal egos, and the lure of the Stormont and Westminster honey pots, they have all abandoned, God and Ulster and the Innocent Victims of the conflict, in favour of Party, Personal profit and totally intolerant false equality. The end result of this constant feuding and their selfishly small minded, Party before Country policies, has allowed IRA/Sinn Fein and the “peace at any price” Alliance Party, to exert a republican influence over the affairs of Northern Ireland, our security forces and the flying of our National Standard, which their electoral support does not justify.

 

The time is fast approaching again when, sincere, ordinary, decent working class, Northern Ireland Loyalists are going to be forced to take up arms again, in defence of the democratic right of the people of Northern Ireland to decide their own future, and again as happened in the early seventies, the never, never, never, politicians, will be conspicuous on the front line by their absence.

Now would be a good time to remember the words of “THE RED HAND SOLDIER”.

 

Raise the Red Hand proudly boys, raise the Red Hand proudly boys.

Raise the hand of Ulster, never let it fall.

Let others fail or falter, our cause we will not alter.

Our cause for God and Ulster, we will never deny.

 

Stand up you Red Hand Soldier, with your rifle at your shoulder.

Our enemies still lay in wait, to rise up once again.

Let others fail or falter, our cause we will not alter.

Our cause for God and Ulster, we will never deny.

 

This land our fathers cherished, for its cause they perished.

At the Boyne, the Somme, Gallippolie, Dunkirk and Normandy.

While others failed and faltered, their cause they never altered.

Their cause for God and Ulster, we will never deny.

 

Some say the war is over, no more need for the Red Hand Soldier.

But we have seen their peace before, we will see it through again.

Let others fail or falter, our cause we will not alter.

Our cause for God and Ulster, we will never deny.

 

So stand up you Red Hand Soldier, with your rifle at your shoulder.

Old Ulster’s cause will not be lost, while you remain on guard.

Let others fail or falter, our cause we will not alter.

Our cause for God and Ulster, we will never deny.

 

Charlie Freel.

 

 

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Pilgrimage To Hell: The Greatest Inhumanity: Dr. John Coulter

Pilgrimage to hell – the greatest inhumanity

Written By: John Coulter
Published: February 6, 2015 Last modified: February 3, 2015

Just imagine the 3,000 people who died in the Irish Troubles being slaughtered in 30 minutes – that’s what the Nazis had perfected in their death camp in Poland, Auschwitz Birkenau.

This year marked the 70th anniversary of the liberation of the camp by the Russians in 1945 during the final months of the Second World War. Although it was only operational for a handful of years during that war, an estimated one and a half million men, women and children were slaughtered at Auschwitz using gas, firing squad, torture, horrific medical experiments, hanging, starvation and illness.

In terms of the Nazis Final Solution to eliminate Europe’s Jews, Auschwitz was Hitler’s jewel in the crown of his murder machine. Hitler’s SS thugs set up two types of concentration camps – a labour camp to supply slave workers, and a death camp, which had only one aim: mass murder.

The tour of the Auschwitz camp lasts around four hours. It will be a roller coaster emotional journey to hell and back again. Having covered the Irish conflict for more than 30 years, I wrongly believed this experience would prepare me for visiting Auschwitz.

I even watched blockbuster movies on such camps, such as Schindler’s List, starring Irish screen legend Liam Neeson, The Boy In The Stripped Pyjamas, as well as the renowned documentary series The World at War.

Our hotel was an hour’s drive from the camp, but I became engulfed by an dreadful uneasiness as we approached it. Then it hit me.

As I walked through the gates with the notorious metal sign – “Work Shall Set You Free” – in German, I had to run out again to vomit in the visitors’ centre. My own personal Auschwitz nightmare was underway.

It was a bright, sunny summer’s day and thousands of people were visiting the camp. But this is not a tourist attraction; this is a memorial to man’s inhumanity to man. Indeed, a visit to the camp is more like a pilgrimage to gain a clear feeling of the depths to which man can sink when it comes to the slaughter of fellow humans.

Out of respect for the murdered, we don head sets to enable us to hear the whispers of the tour guide as we visit the various areas of the camp.

No one shouts; no one even talks loudly. Every building is a piece in a jigsaw of mass murder. And the emotional turmoil for the visitor deepens as we visit each cell, each room, each corridor and each execution yard.

Even inside the buildings I wear my sunglasses to prevent people seeing me weep as I walk the corridors lined with photos of the victims. Then I realise many others are weeping too at the horrors which out tour guides unfold to us. It is not merely words – it is clear images; the suit cases of the victims piled high; the hair cut from the victims; the execution wall where people were shot. Eventually, I am composed enough to get my photo taken with the shoes of tens of thousands of victims behind me.

Worse follows. We travel to the Birkenau section to see the beds where victims were held before slaughter. The Nazis tried to cover their tracks by blowing up some of the gas chambers. We see the ruins as they have been left – alongside the ashpit where the remains of the dead were dumped.

Even worse follows. We are taken into a gas chamber. Although it contains a massive memorial wreath, I look skywards to the vents as if I was expecting people to drop the poison gas pellets down.

Then the door slams behind me and for a few terrifying seconds, I experience the petrifying sensation that this is not a shower room but a room of death. Thankfully, the door is opened and we walk out to see the crematoriums – except the victims’ bodies would have been carried out.

Only one aspect of the camp is off limits – the house of the camp commandant for fear it could become an iconic symbol for neo-Nazis.

But unlike one and a half million other humans, I walk out of Auschwitz. In spite of the warm summer afternoon, my gentle dander becomes a steadily hurried rush as I almost race towards the bus to take me back to the hotel.

I had been given a glimpse of a man-made hell. I still have nightmares every January around the commemoration of International Holocaust Memorial Day.

In spite of the nightmarish experience, it is one pilgrimage which I recommend everyone takes at least once in their lives. It will leave you in no doubt about the evils of racism.

 

About John Coulter

John Coulter is a journalist for the Daily Star

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