An Cosantóir

www.military.ie the defence forces magazine | 29 On he spoke, needing no encouragement from me. Com- rades' names flowed: Mattie McGrath; John Monaghan, and Jack Prendergast, who was a dab hand with the machine gun; Peter O'Callaghan from our street, and his good friend Paddy Neville. There was a bond with these men and I knew he would traverse hot coals barefoot if any of them needed him. His deepest respect and gratitude was reserved for Comdt Quinlan, his senior officer, although some years his chronologi- cal junior. Quinlan's decisions compelled A Coy to dig in despite the African heat. And because of those decisions, they sur- vived; every last one of them survived. Because they survived, I exist, my children exist, and my comfortable life exists. Whatever impact I have had in life, good or bad, is because in 1961, 155 soldiers of A Coy did their job with intelligence, professionalism, and bravery. I was born five years after my father and his comrades faced down an overwhelming force and prevailed. In a strange way, I am a child of Jadotville. I can't begin to guess at the total, but Irish families being what they are, a good number of us children, grandchildren, and by now great grandchildren of Jadotville owe our very existences to the pro- fessionalism of each and every one of these brave men. By the same token, countless potential descendants of at least 300 enemy combatants felled by Irish fire were destroyed by the arrogance and hubris of the Katanga Gendarmerie com- manders. Did they underestimate the resolve of unseasoned troops; did they assume that soldiers attending Mass would be unarmed? We will never know the full details. Sending the first wave of foot soldiers against entrenched professional soldiers might seem to be folly. But sending second and third waves after the disastrous results of the first, and after the Irish had burned off what vegetation existed for cover, seems a callous disregard for human life. And stories of Gendarmerie com- manders shooting deserters would seem to confirm it. But we do know of the bravery of these unseasoned soldiers. We were dramatically reminded, by the 2016 film Siege of Jadotville, that when forced to fight, fight they did. We know without doubt that the officers on the ground felt strongly that at least eight soldiers deserved medals, and my father, with his recovered voice, agreed. Many have suggested that they all deserve medals and it seems finally that this will happen. (Editor's note: survivors of the Jadotville siege were awarded An Bonn Jadotville at a ceremony in December 2017 in recognition of their bravery.) My father recovered from his TIA to return home to his Edna, and I to my Margaret in Vermont. Within a month, I returned for his funeral, forever grateful to have had that final oppor- tunity to hear him speak. There was nothing 'mini' about his final stroke, and his rapid passing was more merciful than the lingering death that cancer promised. His surviving comrades spoke for him and brokered a deal with the Boy Scouts at his funeral. A tricolour and a scout flag: one to grace his casket in the church, the other for his final journey to Coosan Cemetery. A cer- emonial flag-fold- ing and exchange at the church door. I am grateful to both groups who honoured my father. This is an abridged version of the author's article previ- ously published in Ireland's Own magazine in August 2017. The author's parents Martin and Edna McCabe (RIP).

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