Twas many years ago that this event occurred. I had been out at the local shop in Belfast buying groceries for the family when it happened. It happened unexpectedly and rather quickly; quickly enough for me to be unable to stop it. At first it seemed as if it was an attack of sorts. Not necessarily of a foreign power but of an internal threat. For centuries, The Troubles had become steadily more troublesome and as a member of the Scotland Yard, I had no choice but to anticipate the escalation of violence. Twas about ten to nine in the early hours of the Sixteenth of March and a peaceful day it was.
I was on my way to work after picking up some supper for the evening when the bomb went off. A coach had stopped at a stop by the City Centre and killed twelve and injured seven. I dropped the groceries and ran towards the scene. Three masked men, presumably IRA terrorists, jumped into a car with one holding an AK-47. I fired several rounds into the back windshield of the vehicle and tended to the wounded until other Armed Met Police arrived at the scene. There were broken glass windows and the wounded were bleeding horribly (they had been standing behind the glass of the coach stop). It was a terrible scene, and it was only the beginning of my day.
Several hours later, at the Scotland Yard station in Belfast, we received a report that another attack had taken place in Londonderry and we had to respond immediately. This one was different. The report was that three masked and armed gunmen walked into a crowded park around noon time and opened fire on the crowd, killing one and a half dozen. Local police had responded quickly and managed to shoot and detain one of the men. He was being interrogated at the Londonderry Metropolitan Police depot. We rushed over there as quickly as we could. When we arrived, there were ambulances and other emergency vehicles taking the wounded to hospital. This scene was many times worse than the scene that morning.
About thirty or so minutes later, a black Mercedes four-door drove slowly by the scene of the shooting and two men in suits stepped out. They walked along the park on Queen Anne’s Way and looked rather suspicious. I took several officers and went to approach them. As we got within about fifty yards of them, they both turned to look at us. The taller of the two leaned over and said something to the other and then they looked again. Moments later as we were within about thirty yards they both turned and drew their pistols. We responded quickly with ours and opened fire on the men. There was a shootout for about three minutes when we confirmed that both men had been taken down. We approached the bodies with pistols drawn and confirmed that they had been terminated. As we removed their masks, I felt sick. The taller one was my neighbour. I knew he was an Irish Republican but I hadn’t a clue he was a radical. I had let him watch my children and tend to my mail when away on holiday. All I thought about was my family. What could lead a man who lived such a peaceful and calm life who helped people and lived for a useful purpose to become an IRA terrorist? My answer: being a crazed maniac.
Where do we go from here? Do we crack down more on these people, or find out the root of their evil and try to rehabilitate them? I say to just keep at them, but the government wants to help them become normal citizens again. They can’t. They’re incapable of being normal. As I was thinking this my radio sounded. It was another attack, and I had to leave. Hearing its location, I recognized the address. It was my wife’s office.
No comments:
Post a Comment