Hi all,
I have my own views on the goings on in ireland, but out of respect for Steps i shall refrain from commenting, because BOTH sides each have their own EQUALLY VALID views on the matter and I myself do not know enough to comment further..
What i CAN tell you FOR A 100%
FACT is this;
To my mind, there have been very brave, and also, very stupid people on BOTH sides of the divide, with the poor army stuck in the middle....
As Steps said, EVERY family there has suffered a loss as a result of the "troubles" and so Steps has a very much greater insight into all of this than ANY of us will ever have. He lived through this and it could not have been very pleasant...
In fact, a very great friend of mine's father was killed in an IRA ambush when she was about two, only the government tried to cover it up as they did not want to admit that the army was taking losses to the IRA in the early days.
The first soldier to be killed in northern ireland, was, according to the government, one Gunner Curtis..
This was untrue, but they had to admit to this, as Gunner Curtis was shot in the middle of Belfast. There were getting on for 30 soldiers killed BEFORE this, my friends dad being one of them.
My friend knew nothing of her father. He was killed when she was two.. I managed almost by a miracle to track down fellow soldiers that were actually there with him when he died. These men actually baby sat for my friend, so that her mum and dad could go out. They sent me photographs of her father that they had taken, that neither my friend, or her mother had ever seen. You can imagine the effect that this had on them.. My friends mother lived for almost 45 years believing the lies the government told her as to the circumstances of her husbands death. Every week of these 45 years she went to church...
Once i found the truth, [and i know it is the truth. as the men concerned told me facts that they could not otherwise have known] it had such an effect on her that she never went to church ever again..
i could relate the details of her fathers death, but that would not be right, it is, as i am sure you will understand, a very private family matter, but he died a very unpleasant death, take that from me...
There are many more details that i could relate, but these men risked a lot in telling me what really happened. Steps will understand what "section 10" is......
Every person in Northern ireland that lived through those times has their own tale to tell, their own nightmares they have to live with, but as Steps said, people think it is all over now, it is most certainly not.... Things might not be as bad as they were, but it is still a hellish place..
Finally, i have taken the liberty of reproducing for you, a poem that a young soldier, just out of his teens, that was ACTUALLY THERE whilst my friends fathers life ebbed away, wrote in his memory and sent to me... Read it carefully and slowly and reflect upon the nightmare that these brave young men lived through........ It makes me cry every time i read it.....
[SIZE=16pt]Tears In The Rain[/SIZE]
I remember all those years ago, when I was but a child,
Standing there on Belfast's streets, the night was black,
The wind was wild.
And rain poured down upon our heads, our sorry band,
Guardians of a splintered peace,
The death and carnage out of hand.
In Erins land.
And all the while the glistening streets reflected back the city's light,
The smell of wet, of cold, of winters night.
Sodden combat's clung like glue to wet and frozen legs,
Cars swished by as pubs disgorged their drunken human dregs.
And then a shot, a single sound above the beat of rain,
A shout, a scream, a muffled noise, the panic rose,
Again, again.
We gather round the sodden heap, a brother lost,
A friend asleep,
And as I watched, his life blood ran into the falling rain,
Melting slowly with the flow, returning to the earth again.
I often walk into the rain, and when I do, I see again,
Those tortured faces from the past, the friends now gone,
With peace at last.
And though those times have all passed by,
The tears still come, I walk and cry,
For I cant seem to come to terms with all those things I saw.
And now I cant remember how my life had been before.
It seems as though my time began upon those rain lashed streets
Belfast was my hell on earth, the place where conscious memory meets.
On those black streets.
And as so many years have past, other peoples lives have changed.
They dont recall those troubled times, dont want to know,
Their minds arranged.
The sacrifice that we all made, forgotten now, in misty time.
Broken lives are all thats left, a few words written down in rhyme.
A social crime.
I turn for home, my penance paid, remembering again.
The friends I lost, the life I lost,
With tears in the rain.
The words of a brave British soldier, just a young boy barely out of his teens, trying to bring peace to a troubled land.....
john....