An Cosantóir

An Cosantóir Dec 2018/Jan 2019 www.dfmagazine.ie 36 | BY CHRISTY FLEMING The following true-life experience is from a new book 'You OK, Christy? Memoires of a Survivor' by Defence Forces Congo Veteran Christy Fleming on growing up in Dublin's inner city to the industrial school in Cork, to the battlefield and comradery of the Congo and to working in London's underground - this is an autobiography story of a survivor. The 1st Infantry Group took over the whole sector of Kasai Provence with an area of 6,000 sq. miles and had many requests from local government officials to deploy to a battle area be- tween the tribes and to stop the fighting. It was an attack by one of these tribes that tragically caused so many Irish UN lives over a very short time. We were living behind a barbed-wire enclosure in Luputa sur- rounded by bush on all sides. It was about the size of a football pitch and, for our own security, we dug trenches all around the enclosure. We had to man these trenches twenty-four hours a day and constantly patrol the perimeter. We never left these enclosures, except to go on patrols in strength. We were living in the most primitive of conditions, sometimes sleeping in damp pigsties under leaking tents, and other times in the trenches. Both were miserable conditions, especially when the tropical rain poured down on us. During our next water patrol about four miles out from camp we came across a roadblock. As usual the Balubas blocked the road with cut down trees. This time they built the barrier much larger, they began to appear from both sides of the road and out of the bushes. Tensions had been building up in the area over a number of days between the tribes and we were stuck in the middle trying to keep them from killing each other. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to understand that we were only there to help them keep the peace and save lives. There must have been 80 to a 100 of them carrying bows, ar- rows, spears, machetes and pieces of wood with nails sticking out of them. Some had old retro single fire rifles. As we looked down from the truck at their wild eyes, heavily painted faces, some with unbelievably badly shaped and rotten teeth that made them seem like utterly wild men. The situation got very heated and it was obvious that they had either been drinking Simba or were drugged up. We had to be prepared for the worst, bearing in mind that we lost nine Irish UN soldiers from a Baluba ambush some months previously. This was on all of our minds. They started to shout and rant at us and one of them got car- ried away, firing an arrow that hit the truck windscreen, narrowly missing our corporal by inches. Our sergeant approached and tried to persuade them that we were friendly and meant them no harm. It appears that they believed we were taking sides between the two tribes and our sergeant couldn't convince them that they were wrong. The sight of these tribesmen was enough to make anyone scared. After about ten minutes listening to them ranting and waving their weapons in the air, Sergeant Mooney ordered us to stand-to. As this made no impression on their attitude he ordered us to fire warning shots over their heads. If any- thing, it made them angrier and they began shouting louder at us, waving their weapons frantically. Ser- geant Mooney MEMOIRES OF THE CONGO "You OK Christy?"

• Cover