....as the corrugated iron gates of North Howard Street Mill RUC Station, just off the Falls Road, crash open they act as a dinner gong to half the arseholes in Belfast. They know a patrol is leaving the Station. Its 1994, it is wet and cold and I am nervous. I am standing in the pig (slang term for the now infamous, ‘Snatch Land rover ‘) providing ‘top cover’. I am exposed but I prefer it to being cooped up below. I can see them congregating just beyond the concrete bollards surrounding the entrance, the usual bored teenagers, excited younger kids and some very small children with angelic dirty faces who have rushed over to throw dog shit at the soldiers. I can still hear the obscenities they spat at us. It didn’t really bother me though, they were playing their eyes didn’t hold the hatred of their parents. There was a small, dilapidated play area; broken swings and a graffiti covered see-saw. It had become the hang out of the local cider and sherry connoisseurs. It was close to 1300hrs and they were now drunk enough to relish the thought of joining in the abuse and stone throwing. I saw the cider bottle sailing through the air and it was obviously an extremely well aimed throw. I ducked behind the short Perspex screen and heard the bottle smash. I remember thinking it was strange that your average wino would throw a full bottle. However, I soon realised that it had been full of urine as I was now covered in it. It raised gales of laughter from the assembled children and my colleagues in the pig. My mate Graham shouted up “never mind, it makes a change from them taking the piss!”....
...a few days later Graham and I were patrolling on foot. We were waiting at a street corner for the guys up front to get a decent distance away. A terraced door opened and a young woman emerged with two, beautiful little girls. Dressed identically in bright pink they were the brightest, nicest, joyful things we had seen in weeks. As they passed us Graham said “good morning” to them, their mother looked at him and said “fuck off, you British c-nt”. I thought something died in Graham that day....
....I saw Graham today in Tesco, he is 47 years old now. He had a trolley half full of expensive red wine and his beautiful 3 month old baby daughter. Oh and he was smiling, like really smiling.