An Cosantóir

An Cosantóir July / August 2020 www.dfmagazine.ie 18 | tional Airport in Liberia. The smell was stifling too. Your breath was stolen for a few breaths until you accustomed and worked out how to breathe again for the second time in your life. Every pore in the body was pulled from their comfort as the humidity tore them wide open. The few beers we had the night before at McKee Barracks were soon trickling down all of our faces, our arms and our legs. Lots of discomfort, lots of perspiration, but still the odd blast of morale ensued. We laughed at how out of our comfort zone we were. No amount of preparation or training could prepare an Irish man or woman for the blistering heat and humidity of West Africa. Moving into the terminal, it was even warmer in there than it was outside, there was no escaping this oven-like heat, the lack of glass in the windows offered absolutely nothing, no slow breeze. It was an oven in the shape of a clapped out building. We waited a good 30 or 40 minutes for our bags to come through. The carousel was out of order which meant two or three local workers had to pull all of the baggage forward. They were ada- mant that we didn't assist or help. It was awful to look at and it was far too warm in there. The humidity was the topic of conver- sation as we continuously rubbed a fresh line of sweat from our foreheads. Eventually we got to leave this brick sauna and move towards the outdoor sauna and on to the waiting transport that would be escorted to our HQ at Camp Clara by members of the Army Ranger Wing who were already on the ground. For the 90 or so minute journey, all that was on my mind as I took in the area and surroundings was A, what I put myself forward for and B, if I would ever stop sweating profusely. As we moved through Monrovia and towards Camp Clara it was something to see. The stench was unmerciful still, but this was to be understood due to the height of war and poverty this country had been put through for years. This wasn't a poverty- stricken advertisement on your TV back home. This was real life and very visible with your own eyes. Buildings with window frames but with no glass, not many traffic lights, no road safe- ty, too many unsafe vehicles driving through small spaces at high speeds, kids in rags, men selling cheap shades and wood carvings, women carrying basins of water, rice or something of use on their heads. Bullet holes spread across most buildings and worse still, craters in roads that I would assume were the result of light infantry mortars or heavy machine gun fire dur- ing the battles. As we passed through a small area called Bushrod Island, up ahead was a straight road of about 2 kilometres that would lead us to the turnoff for Camp Clara, this area was formerly a holiday resort and a go to place for many celebrities, diplomats and visit- ing politicians in the 1970s and 1980s. It was the once famous 'Hotel Africa' where our advance party had to set up camp for the battalion. Around the grounds were what looked like chalets that would have been part of the hotel set up and brochure. It was surrounded by beach and sea too. Paradise to most some years earlier. It was now in ruins and wrecked and anything that may have been of some use or benefit was long since removed. Our camp looked really well. It was apparent just how much work that our advance party had put in the month before the battalion had fully arrived and deployed. There was a medical aid post of air-conditioned cabins just inside the main gates. The camp was broken into three areas. Nearest the gate you had Logistics Company, made up of Medics, Signallers, Cooks, MPs, Drivers, Mechanics, Ordnance among more. At the centre of the camp was APC Company, a mechanised infantry company from infantry battalions drawn from then the 4th Western Brigade. At the rear of the camp and nearest the beach were Support Company, this company contained an Infantry weapons platoon, a reconnaissance platoon and a light mortar platoon who were mostly from the 4th Field Artillery Regiment and the 4th Cavalry Squadron. The former was my home unit, but I was based with Logistics for this tour as I was a radio technician on both the Sincgar and Harris radios and managed to gain a slot with the CIS platoon drawn from both the 4th & 2nd CIS Corps. It would be a busy mission for our platoon as we would be part of most long-range reconnaissance patrols so that radios and contact back to base and within the patrol were in good shape, not to mention having to travel in the main command car with the Company Commander at all times as a com- pany signaller. Although we were surrounded by water, the beach, earlier in the trip was out of bounds and as much as a foot dipped in the sea would see you repatri- ated home, that is how serious this mission was. The deceases in these waters could bring down the whole camp so it was the best idea no matter how inviting it seemed on a very warm day, which was every day to stay well away! As the trip passed, we were al- lowed to use the inner parts of the beach to walk along or train on if we wished, but the water surrounding us

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