Category: Terrorism and Counter Terrorism Page 1 of 2

How the UK Government betrayed its Northern Ireland Veterans

When the Conservative government pushed through a bill titled The Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy & Reconciliation) Act 2023, it seemed like a final end to the persecution and prosecution of Northern Ireland Veterans. The Veterans of Operation Banner, the overarching term for the deployment of British troops over the almost 40 year conflict. Perhaps, former soldiers now in their 60s, 70s, and 80s could finally be at peace knowing that they would no longer be dragged into the media spotlight and taken to court for alleged wrongdoings going back over 50 years. Alleged wrongdoings which had been investigated at the time and the individuals in question cleared. Alleged wrongdoings in which NO new evidence has been discovered or disclosed but yet these British Veterans were still compelled by the UK government to submit to these show trials.

Imagine in 1975, a 50 year old Veteran of The Black Watch (or any regional regiment) standing trial for using questionable force against a platoon of German soldiers in the Reichswald Forest in 1945. No evidence submitted to support the spurious claim but the former soldier nonetheless is taken to a court in Germany to face the prosecution and provide testimony to refute the allegations. German media portray him as a criminal who has escaped justice for over 30 years while the families of the German dead portray their sons as mere defenders of their homes and families. German politicians bluster before the cameras, painting the narrative that Britain let loose an army of murderers and psychopaths who killed and wounded at will.

Except, of course, such a fanciful incident never came to pass. Well, not until the Northern Ireland conflict.

Even before Labour ascended to power in the UK, they’d made it clear that they intended repealing the immunity against prosecution which Veterans now had under the Conservative’s bill. Think about that for a moment; they made this aim clear before they came into power. That alone, I believe demonstrates the party’s strength of feeling on the subject and their disregard and contempt for the soldiers who served their country under the governments that had gone before. And that brings me nicely to my next point.

Why is it always the poor rank and file of the military that are hounded by these vexatious claims? Where the hell are the former Prime Ministers, Defence Ministers, Chiefs of Defence Staffs, Generals, Colonels, being brought before these kangaroo courts? You know, the architects and directors of the military deployments to Northern Ireland. Those responsible for sending a fighting force to quell a civil disturbance and keep the peace. A role that the British military was wholly inadequate of performing, particularly in the early days of The Troubles.

These governments took thousands of young soldiers, many poorly educated and from the lower socio-economic tiers of British society. Young men with limited prospects but for whom the military offered a structured career path. But these young men were trained for combat, fighting, killing. And suddenly they found themselves dumped into the streets of Belfast and Londonderry. Streets that for a lot of them, were not too dissimilar from the poverty stricken areas of their own home towns. A few weeks training provided in ‘riot control’, ‘civil disturbance’, ‘searching of people and property’ was deemed enough to cater for the transition from war fighting to keeping the peace.

Unfortunately, our adversaries were anything but peaceful.

The dissonance of walking streets that looked not unlike your own home town but that illusion shattered with the crack of 7.62mm gunshots reverberating around a quiet cut de sac. The gun fired by a woman covering an IRA team caught planting an explosive device. A woman who looked just like the girls you chatted up in your local bars and nightclubs, Dressed like she could be off for a drink with her friends before hitting the dance floor. That image unreconcilable with the heavy rifle almost as long as she is tall. The soldier pauses, initially morally confused at the prospect of opening fire against the girl, then unsure whether or not there is a rule against shooting at women. By the time his adrenalin abates and his decision making faculties return, the woman is gone.

This is not a fight that these soldiers were properly trained or equipped to succeed in. Centuries of sectarian divide and antipathy now concentrated on urban and rural focus points and a prominent target: The British Military. Easy to identify, easy to find, and, initially at least, easy to kill. As the violence and danger escalates, British troops find themselves having to make split second decisions on complex situations. Rules of Engagement, ROEs, become a crucial element to the soldiers’ operations. Guidelines become directives, become formal rules printed on cards for immediate personal access. To sum it up though, the infamous Yellow Card issued to soldiers really still left the final decision to shoot or not with the individual. An individual trained to meet conflict with aggression and violence of action, to neutralise the threat in order to save the lives of he and his fellow soldiers. Years of training in section and troop/platoon attacks, fire and manoeuvre, marksmanship principles. Skills hardwired into the DNA of the infantry soldier. But now expected to switch all that muscle memory off and adapt to an entirely different set of parameters.

As time went on, training and preparation for troops deploying to Northern Ireland improved as lessons were fed back from the operational environment. But soldiers’ and Marines’ raison d’être was war fighting, not the complex counterinsurgency they were still being rotated through for 6 month tours. The mission specific training for Northern Ireland was much better in preparing troops for the environment in which they would be operating but the reality on the ground was still surprising to most. Particularly as the enemy had also been adapting as the years passed.

The IRA knew and exploited the military’s ROEs. A gunman opens fire on an Army foot patrol, sprints down an alley and passes the weapon to a waiting teenager who will get the gun away from the immediate area. The gunman well aware the soldiers couldn’t open fire on an unarmed man, his only concern getting to the safe house where a bath and a change of clothing was waiting. Wouldn’t matter that the gunman may have killed or seriously wounded the soldiers he fired upon, he knows the soldiers can’t shoot him if he isn’t carrying a weapon.

For the members of the patrol, their experience of the event is very different. Colleagues and mates killed or wounded, screaming in pain. Getting everyone into cover, sending the Contact Report over the radio, calling for the Casualty Evacuation, CASEVAC. Screaming for immediate first aid to the dying and wounded. Coordinating the follow up and pursuit of the gunman. Trying to shut out the jeers and cheering from the local population making clear their joy at the death and injuries the soldiers have suffered. The patrol commander yelling commands to cordon off the area praying that he’s not sending his men into another ambush or a pre-placed IED. The soldier who had the gunman in his sights devastated that he hadn’t pulled the trigger. But the shooter hadn’t been carrying the weapon by then. And the soldier knew the rules. Knew his ROEs by heart. Knew shooting an unarmed man was not permitted under those ROEs. Even if that man had, only seconds earlier, killed and wounded the soldier’s friends and colleagues. And had now escaped. Probably to be spirited over the border for a soak period before returning back to Belfast to a hero’s welcome.

The IRA however, had no ROEs. Car bombs, culvert bombs, mortars from converted 44 gallon drums, are not weapons designed to minimise civilian casualties. PIRA’s South Armagh Brigade’s improvised giant flamethrower from a converted slurry tanker a good example of this. A weapon of terror if ever there was one. The IRA had amongst its ranks gunmen, bombers, torturers, armed robbers, murderers, snipers, explosives experts, intelligence officers, kidnappers, extortionists, getaway drivers, hide custodians. When ‘peace’ eventually came to Northern Ireland under the guise of The Good Friday Agreement, these terrorists and criminals were finally . . . absolved of all crimes. Even the worst of the worst who remained On The Run, OTR, for the most serious bombings and killings, were provided with formal letters guaranteeing their safety from prosecution. Come home, all is forgiven.

And for the soldiers sent to police this conflict for the best part of 40 years? The threat of court cases being driven by the republican movement to continue the conflict through lawfare rather than warfare. Exploiting the legal system and the UK’s lack of spine in standing up to baseless allegations of incidents long since investigated and the individual cleared. To reframe the narrative of the conflict for new generations and control the quickening media cycle on the emerging internet. But, for the former soldiers, no such amnesty. No Comfort Letter telling them the past was the past and just get on with your life. That, as there was no new or even further evidence provided regarding the respective incident, there was no case to answer.

Alas, this was not, and is not, the case.

Army Veteran Dennis Hutchings died in 2021 at the age of 80 while going through a trial for a tragic incident that took place in Northern Ireland in 1974. 47 years before. He was already in ill health when the trial process began but this was not even a consideration in deciding whether the trial should take place. Dennis died while the trial and its outcome were still ongoing and I can only imagine the utter dejection he suffered and the disappointment he must have felt for his country and his government.

But there’s also the hypocrisy of these show trials. Old-aged pensioners are being demanded to remember, in detail, things that happened when they were in their late teens or early twenties. And when they struggle to recall these details, it’s labelled as dishonesty, lies.

Contrast this with Gerry Adams’ statements during a defamation trial in Dublin in May 2025. The 76 year old was being questioned about incidents and details of IRA activities over the duration of the Northern Ireland conflict. On several occasions, Adams made the point that he couldn’t be expected to remember details from so long ago, that there was so much going on, it would be impossible for him to recall specifics. Also, for Adams, there have been several individuals who have independently provided new evidence on crimes that directly implicate Adams. NEW evidence from SEVERAL sources. Not a rehash of rumour and circumspect masquerading as evidence. But Adams, like the rest of the Provisional IRA, seems to have nothing to fear in terms of being brought to justice.

So, for former IRA gunmen and bombers, the Tony Blair government ensured that these men and women need never worry about setting foot in a courtroom unless they commit another crime. But the pensioners and ageing veterans the governments at the time sent to Northern Ireland have no such assurances. And again, none of them are former defence ministers, Generals, or Colonels. No Chiefs of Staffs or General Officers Commanding. It’s always the rank and file, the poor sod on the ground implementing poorly thought out policies in the face of violence and extreme danger. Young men who had to make split second decisions on complicated situations with the minimum of training and experience in the environment.

My new book is currently titled ‘The Kill Chain’, a reference to the fact that when a young Private or Marine pulls the trigger during an engagement, they don’t do it in isolation. There’s a chain of command and control which put the young soldier or Marine in that place and time. A Kill Chain. Yet, it’s only ever the very bottom link on that chain that is ever held to account for the outcome on the ground.

Northern Ireland Veterans have been betrayed by the government. Not let down, not disappointed. Betrayed. The government didn’t have to repeal the Veterans’ immunity under the Conservatives’ bill. Certainly didn’t have to repeal it with such pride and publicity. But they did. And as we enter an era where it’s almost a certainty that major conflict involving the UK is on the horizon and the government is trying to encourage people to join the Armed Forces? Good luck with that one. I’m not going to go into the suffering of the Iraq veterans wrongly accused of misdeeds and whose lives were ruined due to crooked law firms and government apathy. This post isn’t about that, but what it shows is that there is a constant thread that anyone thinking of joining the Armed Forces should seriously consider. A thread that makes it clear that while the government will send you to countries to conduct military operations in line with their foreign policies, don’t count on any support when you really need it.

When terrorists and criminals are free to walk the streets but 80 year old Veterans are on trial for military actions almost half a century before, actions already cleared and settled, there is something seriously bloody wrong with our governments, and the system itself.

The death and disappearance of Captain Robert Nairac GC

Northern Ireland. The mid-1970s. The Provisional Irish Republican Army, PIRA, is now structured, trained, and more effective than ever before. The British Army is developing tactics and practices for this new type of warfare being fought in streets and countryside not unlike that of the homes of the soldiers’ patrolling them. Lessons from previous counter-insurgency conflicts such as Kenya, Borneo, Malaysia and others are implemented with a key focus on intelligence. And, more importantly, intelligence gathering. The Security Service, MI5, learning early on that plummy accents and Oxbridge mannerisms didn’t work particularly well when attempting to engage on the streets with hardened West Belfast republicans. The well-trodden route of ‘turning’ arrested IRA men during interrogations bearing less fruit since many of those arrested had now been trained in how to conduct themselves during interrogations so as not to give anything away or provide the police or military with any leverage.

A counter-insurgency operation, like nature, abhors a vacuum. In this case, the gap that the Security Service working in Northern Ireland could not cover was filled by shadowy intelligence gathering units and organisations, primarily from the military. Covert and clandestine operations conducted by men and women dressed in civilian clothes and venturing into the heartlands of PIRA and its supporters. Surveillance, Agent Running, and rudimentary Technical intercepts combining to create an ongoing intelligence picture of PIRA and its members. To PIRA, these undercover soldiers represented the greatest threat to their security and consequently designated them as premium targets for capture and killing. PIRA and these covert units would find themselves confronting one another at various times with no quarter expected or given. The nature and actions of both sides of the fighting at this time providing an accurate and long-lasting moniker that labelled the conflict:

The Dirty War.

There are many examples of horrific and unjustified killings throughout this period but one that comes to mind because of recent developments is that of Captain Robert Nairac GC.

A captain in the Grenadier Guards, Nairac was something of a golden boy. Boxing Blue at Oxford University, gifted athlete and scholar, personable and charismatic. Nairac’s association with the island of Ireland began well before his military career when he would regularly visit Dublin and the West of Ireland and soak up the language, culture, and history of the country. On joining the British Army, he attended the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst and was commissioned into the Grenadier Guards, the regiment who had sponsored him. It is telling of his deep interest in Ireland that, on conclusion of his training at Sandhurst he undertook post graduate studies at Trinity College Dublin before returning to the mainland and joining his regiment. Nairac’s first tour of Northern Ireland was in Belfast in 1973 and alongside his principal duties of searching suspect houses and arresting wanted IRA men, Nairac also appointed himself as a community relations activist to The Ardoyne Sports Club. This was a social hub in a staunch republican area and, while little evidence is available as to what Nairac was attempting to achieve here, it is likely it was a well-intentioned, if flawed, attempt to foster better relations between the Army and the locals. Looking at it objectively and with, of course the benefit of hindsight, it’s difficult to imagine anyone from the community even engaging with Nairac, either out of innate hatred for the British Army or fear of PIRA reprisals for anyone caught fraternising with the enemy.

Highlighting once again Nairac’s deep interest in the Northern Ireland conflict, after his tour with the Guards had finished, Nairac stayed on in Belfast as a Liaison Officer to the incoming regiment. This in itself was by no means unusual as most regiments conducted a similar continuity element to assist the incoming regiment on hitting the ground running so to speak. But it is notable that Nairac volunteered for the role and clearly regarded himself as something of an authority on the operational area and its inhabitants. On his return to the Guards, Nairac learned that the battalion was to be posted to Hong Kong and while this was regarded as a plum posting for any Army officer, it was not where he wanted to be. During his time in Belfast, Nairac had crossed paths on several occasions with ‘the long haired brigade’ – the covert intelligence operators cutting around the city at large. Wasting no time, Nairac volunteered for Special Duties, the all encompassing moniker for the work being carried out by undercover soldiers in Northern Ireland.

The special operations unit to which Nairac was deployed to had several names, both formal and informal but in the main was generally referred to as either 14 Int or 14 Company. 14 Int had developed out of necessity, a collection capability in an unforgiving environment. Its operators trained in all aspects of surveillance in both urban and rural environments. They were proficient in CQB; Close Quarters Battle, engaging and killing multiple targets at close range and under high stress circumstances. Fast and evasive driving. Covert communications. Covert Methods of Entry or lock picking to you and I. In essence, the operators were trained to penetrate the hardest republican areas and get themselves out of trouble without relying on back up or support.

They were also subject matter experts in the personalities and geography of their operational areas. They had to blend in with the local population as they carried out their tasks and so mimicked dress, mannerisms, driving habits. PIRA was always looking for these covert operators and briefed and trained local residents on what to look for and how to report any suspicious sightings in their areas. PIRA would also set up armed checkpoints in the streets, stopping cars and checking IDs, looking for those who didn’t belong in the area.

Nairac’s official position with 14 Int’s South Detachment was that of Liaison Officer between the unit, the SAS, the British Army brigade within the operational area, and the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC). There has been much speculation over the years that Nairac was an SAS officer operating undercover in Northern Ireland but this is not the case. He was never an SAS soldier and is not listed on any SAS memorial as one of their fallen. As part of his liaison duties he did however, work in close proximity with the SAS and was a conduit between the military special forces and the RUC’s Special Branch.

It is clear that, from the off, Nairac operated far outside the scope of his liaison duties. He conducted surveillance operations, interviewed young republicans who had been arrested by the RUC, frequented known PIRA haunts. Those in the security forces who worked with or knew Nairac at the time were divided on exactly what it was that he was meant to be doing. And that went for the locals in South Armagh as well. A leading Official rather than Provisional republican, Seamus Murphy from South Armagh, remembered Nairac on patrol in Crossmaglen with a British Army unit. And, while he was in uniform, Nairac stood out from the other members of the patrol due to elements of his attire; cowboy hat, trainers, and carrying a Wingmaster shotgun which he was happy to show to anyone interested. Murphy recalled Nairac engaging with everyone he met and being keen to discuss politics and Irish history of which he was clearly knowledgable. Nairac stood out as an exotic personality; a handsome, posh Englishman with Irish roots who was chatty and funny. But he was still a Brit. Still the enemy no matter how charming and charismatic he was.

Murphy’s recollections gel perfectly with what we know of Nairac at the time. Nairac was openly critical of the military intelligence collection efforts and in particular how they failed to positively engage with the local population. He had concocted a theory about PIRA recruitment and referred to it as a pipeline where the military intelligence efforts wrongly focussed on the middle of the pipeline rather than the beginning. This explains his interest in interviewing young republicans that had been arrested by the RUC. These individuals were at the start of Nairac’s ‘pipeline’ and he was keen to put his theory into practice by engaging and forging good relationships with them.

Nairac also fostered an obsession with South Armagh PIRA, viewing them as the most capable and professional element of PIRA and where the military intelligence focus should be. He felt that South Armagh PIRA were so effective due in part to the insular geography and close knit familial ties of those residing there. Nairac disagreed with conventional Army thinking that South Armagh could not be won by hearts and minds due to the comprehensive support for PIRA in the region. He believed that with a different approach and attitude, hearts and minds could work to turn the people away from default support for the armed republican fight. Nairac recommended that soldiers deploying to South Armagh should be specially selected and trained specifically for working there. He would tell anyone who listened about his theories on South Armagh PIRA and in fact would write an Army paper titled Talking to people in South Armagh. For anyone interested in reading it, the only copy I have managed to source is in an Appendix in Toby Harnden’s seminal work ‘Bandit Country: The IRA & South Armagh.’

It is, in my opinion, well-intentioned but juvenile in both content and context. There are elements of the paper which put forward some minor valid suggestions but in the main, it’s pretty naive. There’s a reason that, almost 30 years after Nairac’s death, South Armagh was still the enclave of republican resistance. Hearts and minds were never going to be possible in bandit country regardless of who was leading the charge. But Nairac was clear that it should be him to lead the charge and turn the residents of South Armagh away from PIRA and their support for the armed struggle. He also wrote in detail about the type of officer needed to carry out covert intelligence gathering in South Armagh. Their background, personality, training and skills. How they should operate and conduct themselves. At the end of his recommendations he stated that such an officer probably only had a 50% chance of surviving such an operational tour. Whether by accident or design, Nairac had just written his own job description.

The accountability of Nairac’s operational behaviour seemed vague to those who worked with him. No one quite knew who was authorising or had oversight of Nairac’s actions. Even the SAS men raised their eyebrows at some of his activities. Solo missions into the badlands of South Armagh. In uniform one day then civvies the next in the same area. On more than one occasion, a Crossmaglen local accustomed to seeing the flamboyant Nairac in uniform would observe him in another town in civilian clothing masquerading as someone else. He was also known to have headed out on patrol dressed and armed as a PIRA member, complete with Thompson sub-machine gun and easter lily on his head dress.

What was becoming clearer was that Nairac was conducting unilateral operations, informing Command of little more than his movements. On more than one occasion, SAS soldiers reported their issues regarding Nairac’s operational activities but found their concerns closed down without explanation. Opinion was also divided on the actual value of intelligence that Nairac was providing. Senior officers and hierarchy seemingly awed by Nairac’s actions and accepting of whatever he pushed up the chain. At the ground level however, there were far more challenges to the narrative of the lone wolf doing what nobody else could. Among the SAS, with whom Nairac worked alongside, there was a respect for his bravery as a lone operator working in the highest threat areas. But there was also the recognition that he was a maverick, operating in ways that even experienced SAS soldiers wouldn’t countenance.

Nairac had also started frequenting hardcore republican haunts in South Armagh, often alone and with nothing more than a perfunctory radio message back to base to inform them of his whereabouts. He would get up to sing in bars and pubs, and was noted for having a good voice and the ability to carry a tune. Favourite Irish folk songs along with nostalgic republican ballads, he was a popular singer and often found the band requesting him for another song. But once again he was drawing attention to himself in a major way. The complete opposite of what a covert intelligence operator should be doing. He affected a Belfast accent and assumed the identity of one Danny Mcerlaine. There was a real Danny Mcerlaine who Nairac was aware of as being on the run in Ireland at the time and unlikely to be putting his head above the parapet anytime soon. Mcerlaine was a member of the Official IRA, the organisation from whom PIRA bitterly split from in the early 1970s so this gave Nairac some republican credentials to anyone interested.

And interested they were.

Questions were asked about the tousle-haired, handsome mechanic from the Ardoyne. It wasn’t usual for Belfast men to show up in the pubs and bars of rural South Armagh with the frequency that Nairac did. Counter-intuitively, this might actually be what stopped him being compromised for such a length of time as, with the best will in the world, no Brit could possibly master the nuances and syntax of a West Belfast accent to the point of fooling a native. But to those who had limited contact with people from West Belfast, he probably got away with his charade for far longer than he should have. Which, in my opinion emboldened Nairac and encouraged him to push his already minimal operational boundaries even further.

Based on what I have learned about Nairac at this time, I believe he was starting to come under pressure to deliver tangible results from his high-risk enterprises. It’s now 1977 and the security forces in Northern Ireland have tightened up their game. The shadowy intelligence gathering units are far more accountable and given clearer direction on their roles and what is expected of them. And more importantly, what is not expected of them.

Senior military officers rotated in and out of Northern Ireland and as time went on became more accountable for the men and the operations being carried out under their command. It takes little imagination to picture a General or even a Colonel being briefed on Nairac’s activities and demanding safeguards and limitations on how Nairac operated as well as quantifiable results from his efforts. This would have been unacceptable to Nairac, completely against how he saw himself and the value of the operations he conducted. To bolster this opinion is the fact that individuals who worked alongside Nairac at the time stated that he began trying very hard to recruit a Source within the republican movement in South Armagh. Again, I believe that Nairac went down this route as, while he could report sightings and movements of republican personalities, exploitable intelligence leading to the disruption of attacks and the arrest of active PIRA members was what was expected. And a Source within PIRA was the best option to provide this. It should be pointed out at this juncture that Source/Agent Handling was not part of 14 Int’s operational remit. Another military intelligence unit was responsible for that from the Army side, and the RUC’s Special Branch from the police side. MI5 was also running Agents and had oversight of all the intelligence that both military and police Sources produced. So Nairac really had no remit to be recruiting Sources other than under his own motivations. But, I believe he was feeling the pressure to justify his actions and knew that the recruitment of a well-placed, productive Source would achieve this.

It is also probably what got him killed.

On the night of the 14th May 1977, Nairac drove his red Triumph Toledo to a PIRA watering hole in Drumintee, South Armagh called The Three Steps.

There are varied theories as to why The Three Steps in particular but the one that holds the most weight for me is that he was there to meet a Contact; someone who he had either met or spoken to before and wanted to recruit as a Source. Harnden’s book mentions details from an unnamed security force member who recalled that Nairac had met with a man in Newry the day before and arranged to meet again at The Three Steps that same night but the man never showed. The next day, while Nairac was fly-fishing over the border in Ireland, the security force member stated that a man with a South Armagh accent called twice asking for ‘Bobby’. When Nairac returned from his illegal jaunt over the border later that day, he was called a third time and this is when he arranged to meet his Contact that evening at The Three Steps. The fact that Nairac had not been challenged on that previous occasion undoubtedly encouraged him to return. And to turn down the offer of SAS back up from the SAS Operations Officer whom Nairac had informed of his intended movements.

We know from official records that Nairac radioed in when he arrived at The Three Steps, left his vehicle and entered the bar around 10pm. A popular band was playing that night and consequently, what would normally have been a local crowd was swelled to around 200 by people who had travelled from neighbouring towns and villages. Including Nairac’s uniformed stomping ground of Crossmaglen. It is highly likely that someone in the crowd recognised the handsome mechanic from The Ardoyne as also being the charismatic soldier who patrolled Crossmaglen chatting to the residents and flirting with local girls. Witnesses to the events that evening also remember some unusual behaviour from Nairac. Standing at the bar he drew attention to himself, causing a bit of a commotion as he loudly proclaimed that someone had lifted a pack of cigarettes he had bought and asked other customers if they had seen his fags or taken them by mistake. It’s difficult to ascertain what Nairac was trying to achieve here but one possibility is that this was a prearranged signal to his Contact that all was clear and they could meet. Admittedly, it’s a very, very overt method of doing so but Nairac was not a trained Agent Handler and was probably winging it as he went along. Whatever his aim, it drew attention to him and was remembered long after the events of that evening.

At one point, the band announced that there was a request for Danny Mcerlaine from Belfast to give them a song. Nairac duly stepped up and performed renditions of a couple of popular republican songs. As before, his singing was well received but his cover story wasn’t. As a self-regarded authority on all things republican, Nairac should have known that an Official or ‘stickie’ IRA man such as Danny Mcerlaine would not be welcomed in a Provisional IRA bar. His extended cover story of mentioning the name of another ‘stickie’ from Crossmaglen to establish further bona fides would also have tripped him up as that individual had been officially warned by PIRA not to darken the doors of their drinking dens. Between his ill thought-out cover story and the locals’ recognition that he had been in uniform around Crossmaglen, it was only a matter of time before Nairac was challenged hard over his identity. And on one of his trips to the gents, he was accosted by two men and asked who he was and what he was doing in the pub. Nairac stuck to his cover story of being Danny Mcerlaine and that he was there to meet with the ‘stickie’ from Crossmaglen.

The men and their friends had been studying Danny Mcerlaine with intense scrutiny for some time that night. Word had reached the group of the jarring details concerning the singing mechanic from West Belfast and while some punters may have had questions for the Ardoyne man, this group had far more than questions in mind. It should be noted at this juncture that this group were not PIRA but men from local towns and villages. The leader of the group was a tough former boxer called Terry McCormick. McCormick had boxed in Belfast clubs and immediately identified that Danny Mcerlaine’s accent was suspect. He informed the group that he believed Mcerlaine was an SAS soldier operating undercover. What happened next is not clear but the general consensus based on witness testimonies is that McCormick told people in the bar that Nairac was an SAS man and that he was going to take him outside and give him a good beating. McCormick approached Nairac, said something to him then Nairac and McCormick left through the front door. A witness stated that the scene seemed to suggest that McCormick had asked Nairac to step outside for a fight, to which Nairac obliged.

When the Guards’ Captain walked out into the car park of The Three Steps, he was probably pretty confident that, as an Oxford Boxing Blue, he could take care of himself against some local yokels. Unfortunately, this was not to be a gentlemanly contest governed by boxing rules and regulations. The group had checked there was no military or RUC presence nearby and were waiting as Nairac exited the bar. McCormick was behind Nairac and pulled a large scarf over the soldier’s face and he and another man proceeded to beat Nairac with fists and feet. Nairac fought back as best as he could but when his pistol flew out from under his jacket, the weapon was grabbed by his assailants and pointed at his head. He was then bundled into a car between two thugs and sped away from the bar followed by a second car with others from the group.

The cars were across the border in under 10 minutes and pulled over, the injured Nairac hauled out in a field next to the River Flurry. The group split up at this point with two of the men driving into nearby Dundalk to locate a PIRA member to come and deal with Nairac in an official capacity. As civilians, this was not something that they could take upon themselves as there would be severe reprisals. The men who drove to Dundalk knew of a South Armagh PIRA member who was living there; Liam Townson, on the run from the security forces in the north. The pair located Townson who had been drinking all day but agreed to come and take care of the SAS man. On the way back to Nairac, Townson asked the pair to pull over so he could retrieve a revolver from a hide.

When they reached Nairac and the rest of the group, McCormick was beating and interrogating Nairac on the bridge. Townson assumed control and grabbed Nairac, hauling him through the field, firing questions at him and telling him he was going to die. Nairac, recognising this was his last chance, fought back hard and even managed to grab his Browning pistol from Townson. The assailants threw themselves to the ground but one of them grabbed a fence post and battered Nairac over the head with it. Questioned again on his identity, the almost unconscious Nairac stuck to his cover story. He was pistol whipped across the face and told by Townson that he was going to be killed. Nairac asked if he was going to die, as a man of the catholic faith, could he have a priest? Townson saw the soldier was in a bad way and whispered to McCormick to pretend that he was a priest and try to elicit a confession from Nairac as to his true identity. As bad a shape as he was in however, Nairac stuck to his cover story. Townson lifted Nairac’s pistol, pointed it at close range to Nairac’s head and pulled the trigger. Click. Surprised, he pulled it again. Click. Enraged he tried a third time, screaming at the kneeling Nairac ‘Fuck you, it’s only blanks.’ before pulling the trigger a fourth time and killing Nairac with that shot. And in a damp, boggy field near the River Flurry in County Louth, Captain Robert Nairac, Grenadier Guards and 14 Int, was murdered by a drunken PIRA member and a gang of republican thugs.

When Nairac hadn’t returned to the base at Bessbrook Mill by midnight, two SAS operators were sent to drive past the Three Steps and see if the intelligence officer was still there. They reached the car park of the bar around one o’clock in the morning and saw Nairac’s Toledo still parked up. One of the soldiers got out and approached the Toledo on foot, noting damage to the exterior of the vehicle and coins and cigarettes scattered on the ground near the door; clear signs of a struggle. But there was little more the men could do that night. The Toledo might have been rigged up with explosives. A PIRA ambush team might be laying in wait to take out any British soldiers coming to retrieve the car. For all the SAS men knew, it might just have been a fight over a woman and a drunken Nairac was cuddled up in bed somewhere with her. Later that morning however, an extensive air and ground search began under the premise that Nairac had been abducted.

PIRA released a statement later saying that they had arrested and interrogated Nairac and that, after he admitted being an undercover SAS soldier, he was executed as an enemy spy. But they never dumped his body or said where it was. This was unusual as, footage of the corpse of an ‘SAS man’ captured and killed by PIRA would have been worldwide news and a massive publicity coup for PIRA. But this didn’t happen and as the years went on, PIRA would still not release details of Nairac’s burial location. Some sources believe this was down to the severity of the injuries inflicted upon Nairac but PIRA routinely dumped the naked bodies of ‘interrogated’ informers complete with burns, gouges, slashes, and broken bones in public places so this doesn’t really seem to hold much weight. In my opinion, the most likely explanation is . . . they just don’t know where Nairac is buried.

When the group who abducted Nairac went looking for Liam Townson, Townson had been staying with a senior PIRA member called Liam Fagan and intelligence sources maintain that after Nairac’s killing, Fagan had been given responsibility for the burial of Nairac. At this point, Fagan probably told his superiors roughly where he had buried Nairac. Another piece of information that came to light in later years was that, some time after Nairac’s death, animals had disturbed the ground where he was buried. Apparently, a hasty exhumation and re-burial was conducted, again under Fagan’s oversight. Some time later, Fagan switched allegiance from PIRA to Republican Sinn Fein and a few years after that, he died. And the location of Robert Nairac’s final burial place went with him.

In August 2024 new searches were conducted near Dundalk as a former PIRA member volunteered information he claims was given to him years before by some of the men responsible for Nairac’s death and burial. Unfortunately nothing was found of the Grenadier Guards Captain. Perhaps too much time had passed, memories corrupted and faded, recollections uncertain. But Robert Nairac is still out there somewhere among the cold peat bogs and undulating moorland. Probably a stone’s throw across the border from the bandit country of South Armagh that consumed him to the point of fatality.

What of the individuals who carried out the kidnap and murder of Robert Nairac? While all of those involved were identified and several charged and imprisoned for varying lengths of incarceration, Liam Townson was convicted and jailed for the actual murder of Robert Nairac. But even Townson was unable to identify the location of the grave. Terry McCormick, the former boxer who had instigated the kidnap and beating of Nairac, fled to the USA where he struggled with mental health issues for the remainder of his life, consumed with the guilt over what he had done to Nairac.

It’s perhaps too easy with the spotlight of modern sensibilities and the benefit of hindsight to criticise Nairac and the manner in which he operated. That, back then at a time when intelligence gathering organisations were formalising their tactics and methodologies, much more latitude was given to individualistic practises. I agree that some latitude would have been permitted but at the end of the day and regardless of his position, a soldier still belonged to a unit that was ultimately responsible for him and his safety. Even from a colder, pragmatic angle, a 14 Int operator disappearing into the heartlands of South Armagh on solo missions represented a serious threat of compromise to the unit if he had been captured and interrogated properly by PIRA. The intelligence and information that could have been tortured out of him would have had a serious impact on 14 Int and the other agencies and organisations that it worked alongside. But the hard truth remains that Nairac did operate in a unilateral and maverick manner that at some point was going to come crashing down on him. On his later tours of duty, the SAS men he worked alongside warning both Nairac and his superiors, of this inevitability.

In February 1979, Robert Nairac was posthumously awarded the George Cross for his bravery during operations in Northern Ireland and his courage in surrendering nothing to his captors. The citation can be read here and even contains a quote from Townson regarding Nairac’s bravery on that fateful night in 1977. Over the following years and decades, rumours of Nairac’s associations with death squads and loyalist paramilitaries have abounded but on each occasion definitive evidence has proven that he was not involved. There were also rumours that Nairac’s body had been disposed through a mincing machine at an abattoir in Dundalk but this also, was untrue. What is true seems to be that with the death of those directly involved in the burial and the huge amount of time that has passed, it’s unlikely that, other than through an accidental find, we will ever locate Captain Nairac’s body.

So, a sad end to a sad tale albeit one that remains ongoing as efforts continue to locate the bodies of Nairac and the other Disappeared from the Northern Ireland conflict. And, as is usual in these cases, it is Nairac’s family, in this instance his sisters, who bear the pain and suffering of being unable to give their bright, brave brother the christian burial he rightly deserves.

The 1980s.

Big hair, weird clothes, great music.

Also the height of the Cold War. The global conflict between The West and The USSR for dominance of power. While mostly consigned to the annals of history, it is often forgotten just how near our nations came to escalating conventional conflict to a nuclear one. We came close. Very close. In fact, it is now generally accepted that a KGB officer who MI6 recruited, averted an almost certain nuclear war. Oleg Gordievsky reported to his British Case Officers that the USSR believed that the large scale NATO exercise Able Archer ‘83 was actually a nuclear protocol to initiate a first strike. And that the USSR was desperately trying to ready their own nuclear weapons to beat the West to the punch. But for Gordievsky’s timely reporting, the Mutually Assured Destruction previously thought to be the inhibitor for any nation deploying nuclear weapons, would have been the effect rather than the deterrent.

But that’s not the end of the threat from nuclear weapons during this period. Not by a long chalk and, until now, not very well known.

* * *

North Sea, off Arbroath, Scotland, Mid 1980s:

The ageing trawler rose and fell on the swells of the pewter sea, the bow sending plumes of white spume to each side as it cleaved the cold, grey water on its southbound heading. At the other end of the boat, dirty, acrid smoke belched into the air as the engine laboured to maintain forward progress. Cables, drums, floats and nets dominated the rear decks, the standard paraphernalia of many a fishing trawler prowling the sea for cod and other white fish. A crewman appears on deck, pulling his thin jacket tighter against him while he grimaces at the keen wind and tries to light a cigarette. After several attempts, he finally succeeds and takes a deep draw, savouring the nicotine hit with the hint of a smile. He takes in the land to his west; the Angus coastline. Beaches, cliffs, and patchwork green farmland. He knows that beyond this, and just out of sight to him at the moment, is 45 Commando Royal Marines. The most northern based unit of the Commandos. He knows this not because he is an Arbroath local, or indeed, any kind of local to the region. No, he knows this because he has been briefed and trained. Selected for this very special role. A role he has been carrying out for several years now.

He knows this because he is Spetsnaz.

A special forces soldier of the USSR.

This is the fifth time he has deployed on one of these covert operations to the UK. He and his team jokingly refer to the mission as ‘checking on the children’. They find it amusing as, ultimately, it accurately reflects the nature of their operation. Going back to check on something that has been left alone for some time. Flicking his cigarette stub into the wind, a noise attracts his attention and he nods as the other members of his team arrive on deck, the t-shirts and shorts telegraphing their intent: PT. Physical Training. He and his men pride themselves on maintaining peak physical condition and being stuck on a slow moving trawler for over a week was still no excuse for dropping standards. Removing his coat, he joins the team as they pair off for a punishing circuit of chin-ups, press-ups, squats, burpees, sit-ups and tuck-jumps until they are breathless, muscles exhausted and heavy with lactic acid. Circuit complete, the team smile and slap each other on the shoulder with affection before making their way back down to their quarters where they will wash, dress, and prepare for the afternoon brief from Moscow.

As the trawler maintains its steady course, in a small copse of trees near the shoreline to the south of Arbroath, a bearded man steps back from the enormous lens and camera supported by a tall tripod. He speaks to a second man casually leaning against the trunk of a Scots Pine.

‘Bloody PT. Can you believe it?’

The second man chuckles his reply. ‘I know. For a minute there I thought they were going to bust out some of that karate bullshit they love practicing.’

The first man grins and nods as he sets about dismantling the camera configuration. ‘Must be the only trawlermen in the world who smash out burpees and push-ups three times a day.’

The second man turns and takes a knee, picking up the handset of a large radio and speaking into it.

‘SUNRAY, this is DELTA TWO. WHAM! remain on SIERRA course. OVER.’

A burst of static precedes the response and the man nods, satisfied that his message was received, understood and that DELTA THREE will now resume tracking of the trawler and its team of Spetsnaz operatives on its southbound course. He and his DELTA TWO colleagues will collapse this Observation Post and leap-frog the other DELTAs currently positioned along the coast. His team’s final destination is an area of forest in the county of Suffolk, South East England. He shivers as the cold breeze strengthens and he is grateful that this wasn’t a maritime tasking. The thought of finning miles out to sea freezing his arse off was not a pleasant prospect but, as an experienced team leader in the SBS, the Special Boat Squadron, pretty much his bread and butter. Still, not this time. Land based surveillance and observation with a bit of Close Target Reconnaissance for the final objective. As he assists his team mate in stowing the camera gear back into the nylon bags, a smile crosses his face as he wonders what the pop band Wham! would think if they knew their name had been assigned to a team of Russian special forces. The name was chosen because one of the Russian operatives had blonde streaks in his hair and bore a passing resemblance to the group’s lead singer. The Team Leader was pretty certain that the real WHAM! wouldn’t be particularly impressed . . .

Thetford Forest, Suffolk, England, one week later:

They appear first on the thermal imager. The heat signature of their bodies glowing a brighter white than the surroundings. They move slowly, pausing often and monitoring the ground before them, looking for any sign of human presence. From the shapes of their profiles on the monitor, the DELTA TWO Team Leader notes that the Spetsnaz are carrying assault rifles and wearing Night Vision Goggles. He’d anticipated as much and is confident that he and his team will remain undetected for the duration of the operation. This, after all, is their role. Observe, monitor, and record. Then later, once the Soviet guests had departed, Access; the most sensitive aspect of the operation. But that would be greatly assisted by the footage from the dozen or so infrared cameras covering the objective.

The Team Leader’s attention is brought back to the task at hand as two of the Spetsnaz operatives patrol between the trees before pausing their advance and waiting several minutes in silence. After some time, one of them retrieves a device from his pack and moves it in small circles above the ground. Whatever the device is, it eventually emits a tiny light, barely visible in the dark of the forest, and the man stops, takes a knee and scrapes at the surface of the forest floor. The SBS Team Leader watches as the Spetsnaz operative reaches back into his pack and retrieves a folding shovel which he extends and uses to excavate deeper into the soil. His companion joins him and both men continue their slow, methodical digging for almost fifteen minutes. The mounds of soil obscure the view of what the men are looking for but the Team Leader isn’t concerned. He already knows what it is.

A hatch.

A circular, sealed entrance to a pre-fabricated underground bunker. A bunker stocked with enough food, water, gas, camping stoves, mats, sleeping bags, medical kits, chemical toilet, weapons and ammunition to sustain a team of four men. He knows because the Spooks told him. The information from an MI6 Asset in Russia on pre-positioned Spetsnaz redoubts located around the UK. Ready and waiting for the day the USSR’s finest troops would return to them to wreak havoc in advance of a Soviet offensive. Or even just as guerrilla warfare, causing chaos and mayhem in an attempt to destabilise the rule of government and law. While the Team Leader and his SBS colleagues had been briefed that there were other such bunkers up and down the length of the country, this one was of particular interest due to its proximity to the RAF bases at Lakenheath and Mildenhall. These key strategic locations were undoubtedly earmarked as priority targets by the Soviets in order to strike at the joint US and UK capability housed there.

It takes the Spetsnaz operatives over an hour to complete their business with the bunker. DELTA TWO’s Team Leader notes the careful manner in which the Soviet special forces soldiers cover and conceal the entrance to the bunker and carefully erase any trace of ground disturbance they have created. As they came, so they withdraw; slow, measured steps, weapons ready and scanning the area around them as they melt back into the dense foliage around them and eventually disappear from the monitor. It is five minutes before the call comes through his earpiece from his watcher at the roadside.

“WHAM! mobile and area clear, I say again, area clear.”

The Team Leader acknowledges and crawls backwards from his cover position until he can stand, brushing the loose forest debris from his camouflage jacket and trousers. He fires off a flurry of commands over the radio and within seconds, the rest of his team emerge from the undergrowth. The headlights of a vehicle flicker between the trees and he makes his way towards it, aware that it will stop at the clearing on the edge of the forest. On reaching the clearing, he sees a group of individuals engaged in all manner of activity around a large Transit van. Some are donning ‘noddy’ suits; personal protective clothing to shield them from nasty stuff like chemicals or biological agents. But the suits also protect against another lethal element: Radiation. More specifically, nuclear radiation. And that’s exactly why the two boffins from Aldermaston and whatever other secret organisations they worked for were getting suited up alongside two of the SBS operators. The special forces soldiers would gain entry into the underground bunker, taking care to neutralise the concealed ‘tells’ that the Spetsnaz had placed in various locations in the vicinity of the hatch and entranceway. Once clear, the boffins would follow and make their way to the reason they had been brought to a secret bunker in a Suffolk forest:

The nuclear bombs.

Or, to be more accurate, the nuclear suitcase bombs. Portable nuclear devices designed for mobility and quick emplacement. The Team Leader shakes his head at the thought of the damage these devices could unleash upon innocent civilians. The blast alone, bad enough, but the radiation poisoning and sickness that followed . . . his skin itches at the mere thought of this scenario. His earpiece cackles to life with the update that his men have gained access and that the entranceway is clear. The Team Leader acknowledges and walks to the rear of the van where the rest of his team watch the live camera feed from the pair of operators in the bunker. The monitor shows neat, stacked shelving units, tinned food, bottled water, rolled up sleeping bags. Collapsed cot beds in one corner and in the other, two large, hard plastic cases.

The nukes.

A second monitor kicks into life and a new camera feed shows a close up of the cases. An individual enters the scene and leans in to study the cases closely, his head a misshapen cone in the protective suit. The Team Leader nods as his CME man, Covert Method of Entry man, studies the locks on the cases. After several moments the man’s gloved hands begin moving the dials of the combination locks slowly and with pressure. This takes time as he identifies each number by the almost imperceptible click he feels when the correct digit reaches the latch. Within fifteen minutes, he has the cases unlocked and steps back to allow the boffins access to the cases and the lethal contents.

The Team Leader has never seen inside a nuclear suitcase bomb before and is fascinated as he watches the feed from the boffin’s chest-mounted camera. One element of the device reminds him of the pipe-bombs he’d seen in Northern Ireland, albeit larger and engineered to a far higher standard. Other components were less familiar but compatible with power, wiring, timing, and trigger mechanisms. Bombs were bombs at the end of the day and, nuclear or not, they all required roughly the same components to work together. He knows the plan is to remove the devices and make them safe in a protective, sanitised environment back in Aldermaston or some other specialist establishment. The SBS had been told by the spooks that, unless things changed drastically, the Spetsnaz were not expected to return to the site for another six months to ‘check on the children.’ If the Team Leader had his way, the Spetsnaz wouldn’t have left the forest alive after securing the bunker. But the spooks were adamant that the Russians had to be allowed to carry on as normal. Source protection and all that. Having been around the Security and Intelligence agencies for some years now, the Team Leader was no stranger to having to allow something to happen in order for the spooks to ensure the Source or Asset who provided the information was not compromised. And while he didn’t like it, the Team Leader had to accept it as an inevitable part of working with the spies.

Movement at the entrance to the bunker grabs his attention and he watches his CME man staggering into the open with one of the cases in his arms. The Team Leader will later find out that this bomb is the lighter of the two, around 30kg. The second case is manoeuvred up the stairs of the bunker and carried between the second SBS operator and one of the boffins. The team will later learn that this one was closer to 60kg in weight. While the cases are carefully secured in the rear of the Transit for the onward journey, the Team Leader and his men set about returning the bunker and its entrance back to its original state, careful to replace the Spetsnaz ‘tells’ back in place. Giving the now concealed bunker a final visual inspection, the Team Leader nods with satisfaction that there is nothing to indicate he and his guys had ever been here. As the SBS operators make their way to the second Transit van for their extraction, the Team Leader thinks of two things. First, how many more of these devices are secreted in similar bunkers around the UK, and second, when the Spetsnaz return, will he and his guys finally be given the authorisation to kill them?

* * *

Sounds like a work of fiction, doesn’t it? The scary thing is, it’s not. Spetsnaz operatives from the USSR did hide nuclear suitcase bombs in strategic locations in the UK, including the one in Thetford Forest that I’ve highlighted here. I’ve obviously applied some artistic license in creating characters and actions around the situation but, as I say, these bunkers and the nuclear suitcase bombs were cached in the UK by special forces of the USSR.

I first heard of these activities in a 1999 article from a publication called Inside the Pentagon. This article covered Spetsnaz caches being uncovered in Belgium, Switzerland, and other European countries. Not only that, but there was also mention of such caches on US soil, the east coast more specifically. The assessment at the time was that these caches in the USA may even have been abandoned and forgotten about after the collapse of the Soviet Union. And to this day, no concerted effort has been employed to locate them. A formal request was issued to the Secretary of State under the Clinton administration, Madeleine Albright, however there was still no action taken. Former Soviet Defence officers testified in 1997 that there were dozens of these ‘suitcase bomb’ devices unaccounted for after the collapse of the Soviet Union and it was almost certain that caches remained in the USA, having been smuggled in through the borders of Canada and Mexico.

The reason the subject of nuclear bombs cached in the UK returned to pique my interest was the release of a new book by former Special Boat Squadron operator Duncan Falconer. When I was younger I thoroughly enjoyed Duncan’s book ‘First into action’, an account of his life in the SBS and would recommend it to anyone interested in the subject matter. Duncan has just released a follow up to this book, the newest iteration detailing his life after the SBS as a security contractor, bodyguard, Hollywood screenwriter and movie producer etc. It’s called ‘First into action again’ and in one of the PR releases for it, Duncan mentions being part of a team involved in the surveillance of Spetsnaz soldiers operating in the UK and . . . locating the nuclear suitcase bombs that the Soviet soldiers had planted. Duncan is obviously limited in what he can disclose about the situation but is quite clear in his account that it did happen and it happened in Suffolk.

So, another example of something that sounds like it could have been ripped out of a Tom Clancy novel actually being a real situation. What is even more surprising is how few people have heard about portable nuclear bombs being hidden in the UK as part of a Russian plan of sabotage and pre-invasion aggression. And another thing to consider which I haven’t mentioned here: these Spetsnaz teams weren’t operating alone. They had support and assistance from people in the respective areas. Placing a pre-fabricated bunker into a forest in Suffolk required more than folding shovels and a bit of elbow grease. A lot more . . .

And there you have it; Spetsnaz in Suffolk – who knew?