An Irish Affair Ch10

         
         
         
         
CHAPTER 10.

Over at SAS headquarters in Aldergrove airfield Taff was sat in his troop commander’s office sipping a hot mug of coffee. The boss was stood at a pristinely cleaned window, with his hands clasped together behind him. His office hadn’t seen the sight of dust, since he’d moved into it. Jesus you can tell he use to be in the Guards, I thought.

He turned and took a seat. “So Taff, Where in Wales are you from?”

“Cardiff,” I replied.

“And how long you been in the regiment now?” (Within the British forces, no one ever refers to the SAS, as such. They either use the regiment... Two Two, because their full title is The 22nd Special Air Service. Or as Hereford, which is their home base, back in England.)

“About five years,” I said.

“What’s this . . .Your third tour over here?”

“Second with the regiment, but I did three tours with 2 Para.”

“That’s right you’re an ex, Para. You've done well for yourself, making Sergeant in five years.”

“Not bad I suppose.”

“Anyway, about this task I know it’s going to be a shitty one, but I chose you especially, because the point of fact you are an ex paratrooper, and this group has been operating in Woodburn, which is 2 Paras AOR.”

He began to explain, “You’ve heard about Special Branches suspicions, of this rouge group being members of the armed forces? Well the only real evidence they have to back up this theory is two empty cases found at the scene where Dermott Heggarty had been knee-capped. The base of the cases had a date on them. Although this did not come up as operational ammunition, it did however, show that it was ammunition that is only issued to British forces. The chances of an Irish organization having this type of ammo is very slim, although not an impossibility.”

This doesn’t sound good. I thought.

“We want you to carry out an investigation, and see how valid these claims really are. It’s as simple as that.” He stood up. “Have you any questions?”

“Shitty ain’t the word I’d have used,” I then got up from my chair.

“I know I’ll leave you to sort out how you’re going to go about It.” he held out his hand. “Good luck.”

I gave him a firm handshake, “Okay, thanks,” then turned and walked out of the door.

********

Back at my room, I sat down and pondered. So where the hell do I start, I’m just a bloody soldier, not a police detective . . . I suppose the best place to start would be down in Woodburn. I could take a team down there and say we are carrying out a few recces for an up and coming job, and that we need to stay in the Police station for a few nights. Yep that’s what I’ll do.

********

The team and I were dressed in civilian clothing and riding in an unmarked car. We drove down Blacks road, when the Police station came in to view and began growing larger as we neared the junction at the end of the road. The twenty-foot high metal walls seemed to tower over the whole town; I radioed through, to let them know of our approach. As we reached the big metal sliding gate, I rolled down the window and looked over to the policeman stood in the protruding sangar. This was a small room made of concrete, surrounded with small sliding windows, made of bulletproof glass. One of the windows was slowly slid open, and a face appeared. I produced my ID card, careful not to show it outside of the car. “Hi, there, Sergeant Gavin.” I said.

He checked my ID, “Hi, been expecting you,” he said. Then the big motorized metal gate began slowly sliding open. On entering there was a car park next to a long, tall concrete building with a row of windows running the whole length of the top. Behind it there were a number of smaller one-story buildings. One was a small Naafi shop, a kitchen and dining room, then there was a long building, which was the soldier’s accommodation. We entered the police station through a big red metal bomb blast door, then up some stairs to the police operations room. This was like all other Op’s rooms. A wall covered in maps with radios everywhere. On one side of the room sat the fattest policeman I have ever seen, listening to a police radio. On the other side was an army officer, with a signaler sat next to him listening to the army radio. “Hello sir, Sergeant Gavin, I believe you’ve been expecting us.” and shook his hand.

“Yes Sergeant, there has been a room put aside just for your team, down in the accommodation block. Is there anything you need at the moment.”

“No thanks, were fine, we will do our best to stay out of your hair, we don’t want to upset your operation in any way. I will inform you when we need to go out on a patrol, and will of course give you all the relevant information, routes, our call sign, time out, and time in. etc.” I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You can appreciate however, I can’t inform you of the nature our patrol will take.”

He nodded, “I understand.”

“Okay sir, if you could just get someone to show us our room, we will be on our way.”

“Runner,” he shouted, a private soldier came in through the door. “Yes sir,” he replied.

“Take these men down to their room in the accommodation block.”

“Yes sir, follow me guys” he said.

“Our room was tiny and had two sets off bunk beds, one on each side of the room, with just enough gap for one person to walk in between. We stowed our gear under the beds, and headed over to the Naafi for a coffee and something to eat.

The Naafi was small, at one end of the room was a solitary table, with a small TV sat on it. In front of the TV, there was just enough room for four rows of six plastic chairs, arranged like a cinema. There was a small booth on one side, from where you could purchase anything from food and drink, to shaving cream. I ordered four coffee’s, then me and one of the other guys sat in two chairs, in the rear row, and the other two sat in the two chairs directly in front of ours, with their bodies contorted round, leaning on the backs of the chairs, so as to face us. Just then, a soldier walked in and switched on the TV, and sat in the front row.

“So, what’s the plan Taff.” One of the guys said.

“Well first off we are going to carry out a few patrols, just to make it look like we are carrying out a recce, for a job that doesn’t really exist. This is all really a cover for me. As I’m investigating the theory Special Branch has, that this rouge group, may not be Irish after all, but could be working from a bit closer to home.” I looked up and could see the soldier in the front had turned his head slightly and appeared to be listening in on our conversation. “Look I think we better go back to our room, before we discuss anymore.” So we all got up and headed for the accommodation block.

********

I quickly found that all the weapons used by the soldiers while they were here for four weeks, are brought with them, and kept in their rooms. Also, there was no armory within the base, and the only weapons the soldiers used were the SLR (Self Loading Rifle,) and the GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun,) none of which used a 9mm round. The only person if any who would bring a 9mm browning pistol with him, would be the company commander, and usually only the eccentric ones ever carried a pistol. So I soon concluded, that whoever this group was, they were most certainly not working from out of this base. Therefore, I wasn’t going to do much good staying around here. I arranged for the team to carry out one recce patrol, just to keep up the pretence, and then decided to head back to our own base. 

********

I was sat in my pale blue room, which had a single bed, one locker and a chest of drawers with a mirror mounted on top, where I housed my TV. I sat on my bed with my head cupped in my hands, trying to get a handle on this group. Who readily uses pistols, apart from ourselves. Some units have been known to use the SMG (Sub Machine Gun) out here, and that is a 9mm weapon. I stood up and looked out of a rain-streaked window. God does it never stop raining in the poxy country. I leaned on the windowsill. No the statements from the witnesses said they definitely used pistols. Most of the police carry .32 revolvers. I stood up straight and put my hands in my pocket, then began pacing the length of the room, backwards and forwards. Then suddenly I stopped. Shit!, of course, the COP platoon, they are always using pistols. I quickly sat back down, Christ they have everything they need. Covert cars, pistols, and they often drive around in civilian clothing. I went up to our Ops room. The duty officer was sat in a chair reading a book. “Hi boss, can you help me out?” He raised his head from his book,

“Hi, Taff. Sure, if I can,”

“Where does the COP platoon working Belfast hang out.”

“I believe they’re stationed at Palace barracks in Holywood.”

I looked up and recalled, “Yes, that’s right, thanks for that boss.”

“What you wanting with those boys,” he said.

“Oh, just a job I’ve been tasked with by Special Branch.”

“Tread carefully with those guys, they don’t like outsiders interfering in their affairs.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard, being as I’m ex 2 Para myself hopefully they’ll go easy on me. Okay see you later.”

It would be nice to meet up with a few old mates, I thought, as I left the room.

When I got back to my room, I began to devise some kind of plan that would get me in to see the boss of the COP platoon.

********

Driving up to the barrier at Palace barracks, and seeing a paratrooper stood there wearing his red beret, began to bring back memories of a distant past. All the good times I’d had when I was in 2 Para, and all the old friends I’d lost touch with, wondering if they were still in, and hoping they’d be here, so I could mull over the old days.

Still, I had to remember why I was here, and bumping into old friends would only end up with me facing a barrage of awkward questions to answer. No, I need to stay focused, I thought. After receiving directions from the soldier, I drove straight to the compound. I walked up to the gate and pressed the button on the speaker.

“Who’s there,” a voice crackled.

“Sergeant Gavin.” I replied. Then I heard the sound of a buzzer, and the clank of the lock on the gate. I pushed  and the gate opened. As I approached the security door it began to open, and I was met by a tall thin guy wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, holding out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Captain  Roberts. The platoon commander.”

I took his hand in mine and gave a firm shake, “Hi, sir. Is there somewhere we can talk.”

He gestured me inside, “of course, my office is just down the corridor.”

“That sounds good, after you sir,”  and followed him inside.

The office was a small room with a solitary window on the back wall, and a desk situated in front. A metal filing cabinet stood just to the right of the window.

He pointed to an armchair situated in front of the desk, “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you,” I removed my quilted jacket, placed it on the back of the armchair, and sat down.

“Would you like a tea or a coffee? ” he asked.

“No, I’m fine thanks.”

“I’m not sure what I can do for you sergeant, as you were quite vague on the phone.”

“I know, I’m afraid I couldn’t say much, as it’s a very delicate matter.” I leaned forward. “ It’s about this business with the rouge group.” He leaned closer to me resting his elbows on the desk. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the theory Special Branch has,-”  he interrupted. “Theory,” . . .  “yes they believe that this group may be made up of soldiers from our own forces.” He fell back into his chair, smirking. “Your kidding me,” I sat up, “I know it sounds crazy, and I’m in the same frame of mind as you, but I’ve been tasked with carrying out an investigation, so here I am.”

“So, what are you saying? Do they think these guys are from this platoon?”

“No, not at all, it’s just that, by the very nature of how your platoon works, if I could be allowed to attach myself to your organization for a period of time, It would make my job easier and quicker to dispel this stupid theory, and allow me to get back to doing some proper soldiering.”

He stood up and looked out of the window. “So, how exactly can I be of help.”

“Well, first sir, I must ask you not to discuss anything we say here today, with anyone, and I mean anyone.”

He turned his head, “I understand, so again, how can I help.”

“We need to come up with some kind of cover story, for the rest of the guys in your platoon, something that will prevent them from asking awkward questions.”

He turned and sat back down. “What do you suggest?”

“I believe you are almost half way through your two year tour”

He nodded. “That’s correct.”

“In that case this would be the ideal time for an assessment, don’t you think?”

“An assessment!" I don’t quite follow,” he replied.”

“To avoid awkward questions, we can tell everyone that I’ve been sent down to carry out an assessment, in order to assure Special Branch, that your platoon is still maintaining the required standards, after a full year on the job.”

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at now.”

“At least this way I can have free range to observe and ask questions on all aspects of your organization, both in camp and in the field, and no one need be any the wiser.”

“Okay, how long would you say you need, in order to complete your task?”

“I was looking along the lines of a week max, give or take a day.”

He stood up and held out his hand, “Fine leave me to make the necessary arrangements.” 

I got up out of my chair and gave him a firm handshake, “Good, thanks for all your help sir, I really appreciate it.” I removed my jacket from the back of the chair, and put it on. “Hopefully I can put this silly rumor to rest once and for all.”

He followed me towards the door. “I really hope so sergeant,” he said. “By the way I’ve secured you a room in the sergeants mess accommodation, if that’s okay with you.”

I turned to face him. “That’s perfect, and thanks again.”

“No problem, and good luck,” he said.

As I opened the door, I raised my arm pointing at the ceiling. “Oh, by the way, what is the security code for the door to this compound.”

“Its 666 . . . easy to remember,” he replied, and followed me out of the compound.

********

The next morning I received a phone call from the platoon commander, telling me he had arranged to get the whole platoon together to inform them of the situation, and would like me there, so he could introduce me.

I walked into the main briefing room, and all the platoon members were sat chatting amongst themselves. The platoon commander was sat on a table at the front. “Ah, Sergeant Gavin. Would you mind coming to the front here please,” he said.

I weaved through the tightly squeezed chairs to join him at the front. “Okay, everybody settle down. I have already explained the reason for Sergeant Gavin’s presence here, for the next week or so. All I want to do now is to introduce him to you, so you all know what he looks like in the flesh, so to speak. As I said earlier, I want you all to assist him in any way you can. He has full authority to ask questions on any aspects of the platoon and its ongoing operations.”

He stood up and gestured towards me. “Sergeant Gavin. Would you like to say a few words?”

The captain stepped aside. “Thank you sir. . .  Some of the older guys here may remember me, for those that don’t, I’m sure it’s not a secret that I come from Two Two.  However, before that I spent many a good time in 2 Para.” I stood up. “I have no plans to upset the day to day running of this platoon, and will do my very best to be as unobtrusive as possible. Knowing 2 Para as well as I do, I have every confidence in finding that if anything, your standards will have improved, rather than diminished in any way shape or form. To that end, please, for the best part of the time, just ignore me, and continue as if I wasn’t here. Before I hand you back to your platoon commander, has anyone any questions, ”. . . “Okay, sir.”

“Thank you Sergeant Gavin. . . . That’s it men, business as usual, dismissed.”

********

I hadn’t yet figured out how the hell I was going to carry out the investigation. I looked out of the streak-covered window of my room, not really focusing on anything in particular. God I’d rather be freezing my ass off in a bush somewhere, than having to do this shit. It’s like being a fucking stool pigeon, I thought.
I decided I would start tomorrow, just hang around in the Ops room and see how that was run on a daily basis. Watch who comes and goes, and what kind of access everybody has to the weapons in the armory. I could also read through some of the previous weeks logs, to see if any kind of patterns show through. Till then I thought I would go over to the Naafi to see if I could link up with some old buddies, and have a few drinks. Nothing like mulling over old times with a few friends, and some cold beers. But first, I needed to report in with my boss back at camp, and give him a Sitrep. (Situation Report.)
         
I sat on a barstool in the Naafi, with nobody but the barmaid for company.“I take it, this is as good as it gets,” I said. She was wiping a glass and placing it on a shelf behind her. She turned. “Pretty much,” she said. “Looks like I’m in for an early night then,” I replied. And took swig out of my glass. “Haven’t seen you around here before,” she said. “No, I’m only here for a week or so, just visiting really.” I didn’t want to start getting into a long discussion with her, so I lifted my glass and sunk the last of my beer. “Oh, well, might as well go back to my room and have an early night. I hope it picks up for you a little later.” She took my empty glass and began to wash it in the sink. “Okay, good night and thanks,” she said. I gave her a quick wave. “Yes, good night, and thanks a lot.” I said, turned and walked towards the door. “You’re welcome,” she shouted, as I opened the door, and walked through.

********

The next morning I arrived at the compound, to find just the duty watch keeper sat drinking a cup of coffee, and the signaler, sat next to him filling out his radio log. “A hive of activity in here this morning then ,” I said, as I removed my jacket.

“Hi, there. Would you like a mug of coffee,” the watch keeper said.

“Sounds good, where is it?”

He leaned to one side and shouted, “Runner.-”

I quickly interrupted.  “No, its okay, I’ll make it.” I replied.

“Are you sure?” he said.

“Sure, I’ve nothing better to do at the moment.” 

He pointed to a door behind him, “Just in there,” he said.

I walked towards the door then stopped and turned,. “Oh, by the way, where do you keep all your previous logs, I’d like to have a look through them while I’m having my coffee.”

He pointed to a two draw metal filing cabinet in between him and the signaler. “You’ll find them all in there, any problems just give me a shout.” then carried on sipping his coffee.

“Thanks a lot,” I said and walked through the door, into a small make shift kitchen, with a stained metal sink, still full with unwashed mugs, a tabletop fridge, and an electric kettle. I filled the kettle, turned it on, and rinsed out one of the stained mugs. I then heard the muffled voices of people, who must have just arrived.