An Cosantóir

An Cosantóir June 2018 www.dfmagazine.ie 52 | By DEClAN POWER I n September 1961 the rebel-held province of Katanga was located in the very bowels of the Congo. It was here that 157 men from A Coy, 35 Inf Bn were deployed to a mining town called Jadotville to protect the largely white Belgian inhabitants from massacre by marauding tribal groups. But very soon the troops were to find the settlers had turned and were attacking the Irish positions with an overwhelming mercenary-led rebel force. The Irish positions were attacked while the main body of troops were attending mass parade with their Chaplain, Fr Tommy Fagan. As the native troops and their merce- nary officers swiftly advanced. They had been passed information by a Belgian businessman about the morning's mass parade. The Irish wouldn't know what hit them. However, they didn't bank on Sgt John Monahan in his sin- glet, having just finished shaving and with his towel still draped around his shoulders, Monahan vaulted a couple of trenches to get to a Vickers machine gun. With this belt-fed weapon he start- ed to lay down accurate bursts of machine gun fire which broke up the Katangan attack and caused the jeeps to career wildly. This was to be the start of a week-long siege of the Irish positions by an enemy force that at its peak numbered 3,000. Most of the men were lucky, their commanding officer Comdt Pat Quinlan, had ordered them to dig trenches on their arrival and this effort was now saving lives. However, Platoon Sgt Walter Hegarty wasn't in his trench the morning the mortars fell. Ever mindful to his men's welfare, he was returning to the trenches with fresh water. "I heard the plop of the rounds as I was coming across open ground. I knew I was out of range of their machine guns, but not the mortars. As the rounds flew through the air I had a couple of seconds to drop the water and jump into a small depression in the ground. I remember how clear and sharp the colour of the grass was as the rounds came in." Crump! Seconds later Hegarty could feel the burning shrapnel lacerate his flesh. "I could feel the blood running down my back and legs, but I wasn't in pain, just a daze and a voice in the back of my mind reminding me that the next round was just seconds away." Hegarty was on his feet and sprinted like an Olympian to the nearest trench, tumbling headlong in on his fellow troops. He was brought back to the rear for treatment later and insisted like other wounded Irishmen to return to the action until the battle was over. This was Ireland's first significant involvement in the UN's first large-scale peacekeeping operation in the Congo in the early 60s. Similar to the Dutch peacekeepers at Srebrenica in 1995, the small Irish contingent was denied any air or artillery support to aid them against overwhelming odds. But unlike the Dutch, and even though under aerial bombardment from a Fouga jet, A Coy had been ordered to dig in by their com- manding officer and so were able to fight to hold their ground. This they did for nearly a week against a force that outnum- bered them 20 to one, with A Coy inflicting 300 casualties on their opponents. Yet for over 40 years both Ireland and the world turned their backs on the Jadotville veterans. While a combined force of Irish, Indian and Swedish troops called Force Kane tried to break through to rescue the men of A Coy, twice they were beaten back at Lufira bridge, suffering over eight dead and numerous wounded on the second attempt. All the while the UN authorities in New York kept changing mandates on paper but not giving the troops on the ground the equipment and support needed to contain the violence. There were tragic-comic moments too, like when a madcap Norwegian pilot, Bjorne Hovden, was the only one who volun- teered to fly a helicopter with water supplies to the besieged Irish. Having landed under fire with his aircraft destroyed, the water supplies were found unusable having been put in jerrycans that previously stored petrol. This was the only attempt made by the UN to resupply the troops. Men such as Pte John Gorman and Lt Noel Carey have told of their terror of having to hand up their weapons and go into captivity under a force the Irish had inflicted casualties on. Fear of reprisals was huge. The battle created enormous personal strain for the Coy com- mander, Comdt Quinlan. Not alone was he under the normal pres- sure of commanding troops in combat, but in the aftermath, he had to enter ceasefire negotiations without recourse or direction from higher authority. The UN kept telling him jets would be sent to support him but none came. Such was the strength of the mercenary-led force

• Cover