The Bogside Boys Read online

“So boys, we gonna start some trouble today or what?” Jimmy said. “We’ll show them Paras a thing or two, eh?”

  “You’re gonna show the Paras a thing or two, are ye, Jimmy?” Phillip shook his head. “They’re carrying assault rifles. You know what one of them could do to your head?” He brought his fingers into a fist and then exploded them outwards. “Like a watermelon, my friend.”

  “They’re not gonna start shooting live rounds,” Noel said. “They never use real bullets. Well, almost never.”

  “What about that fourteen-year-old girl, shot dead last year, out gathering stones for a school project? That fifteen-year-old? He was coming out of the chip shop and got two bullets in his head. No reason for it. The Paras are complete bastards. Don’t think they won’t shoot you down,” John said. His words were met with solemn silence, broken only when Noel changed the subject to girls, specifically Mick’s new mystery girlfriend they were all so eager to meet.

  She was waiting on the corner. They had developed a system where he would throw stones at the window, but this was the middle of the day, so they had arranged to meet on the corner of her street. There were no soldiers, no crowds milling around and there would be no march in this area of the city. The Bogside, across the River Foyle in the Cityside section of the city, seemed far away. But Melissa had agreed to take part in a civil rights march in the most staunchly republican area in all of Ulster. He could walk a little to meet her. Melissa’s green eyes looked dewy and tired but seemed to brighten as he approached. Her flawless skin stretched over high cheekbones. Her long brown hair curled on the ends. She was wearing a red jacket and tight bell-bottom flares which showed off her long, slender legs. Her pristine make-up indicated the time she’d spent readying herself for him, polishing the perfection of her face. That felt good, a validation of him and their relationship. He was taller than her, about six inches taller, and he had to reach down to kiss her on the lips as she ran her hands through his shaggy blonde hair. No Catholic girls ever said hello like this, not the ones he knew anyway.

  “How are you doing?” he began. “Are you upset about something?”

  “Just the usual, all this sneaking around.” She exhaled some of the stress inside. Mick watched her lips as she spoke. “I think my sister suspects something. If she knows, my dad is next.”

  “How would she know?”

  “One of her friends must have told her.”

  “Told her what?” Mick went to hold her hand, but she pushed it away. He wasn’t insulted. “How many Catholics from Bogside does your sister know?”

  “About as many Protestants from Waterside as you do.”

  “I know a few,” Mick smiled. “They’re salt of the earth people, some beautiful girls there.” They walked around a corner and off the street. Melissa pulled him close to her.

  “Beautiful girls? Plural? You’re chasing other girls from Waterside then are ye?”

  Mick moved his face down to hers and spoke as her lips were touching his. “No, there’s just one girl from the Waterside for me. One Prod is enough for anyone.” He started laughing.

  Melissa poked him in the ribs. “Cheeky monkey,” she said with a wry smile.

  They walked on, over the Craigavon Bridge and the great platinum blue expanse of the River Foyle that separated his side from hers. He felt the warmth of her hand in his as they moved through the army checkpoint and across. It was hard, hard for them to be seen in public together, but every time he thought it wasn’t worth it, she did something or said something to draw him back in. Everything seemed so easy when it was just them.

  “So, are you nervous?”

  “About what?”

  “About going on the march. About meeting my brother for the first time.”

  “I’m excited to meet your brother. The way you talk about him, I feel like he’s a part of you. I thought I was close to my sister.”

  “It’s different with twins.”

  “And he looks exactly like you?” She smiled. “Maybe you’re the one who should be nervous. Maybe I’ll run off with Patrick. Who knew that the best-looking boy in the whole city of Derry came in duplicate? That’s what I call a good deal. If something happens to you, then I have him to fall back on.”

  Several cars full of people moved past. They were approaching Bishop’s Field, where the crowds were congregating to go on the march. Internment without trial had been introduced less than six months before. Mick knew several men who had been scooped up in the nighttime raids that followed. Several regulars in the barbershop had been taken.

  “How do you feel about the march? About marching in Bogside?” he asked.

  “I feel great about the march. What the government is doing is wrong. You don’t have to be Catholic to see that. I don’t think that the government is handling the situation correctly at all. I’m delighted to be a part of something that’s a force for good.”

  “Even if it’s illegal?”

  “Just because it’s illegal doesn’t make it wrong. And just because the RUC and the soldiers have the law on their side doesn’t make everything they do right. Although if I get arrested today my dad is going to kill you.” Mick started laughing again. “Oh, no, don’t laugh, my friend. He will literally kill you. No joke about that.”

  “I’ll have to make sure to keep you safe then.” Mick thought about the warning from Father Daly and the build-up of Paras around the Bogside and the snipers on the city walls. “I should tell you that there’s a pretty substantial army presence in town today.” A helicopter appeared over their heads as if on cue. “Paras. They’re tough bastards. Not known for their gentle manner.”

  “There’s no way they’ll open fire on UK citizens, their people,” Melissa assured him, or possibly herself.

  “If you say so,” Mick muttered under his breath. He looked at her and she back at him. They stopped on the road.

  “This is going to be safe, isn’t it Mick?” Her voice was wavering. “I can meet your brother some other time.”

  “No, let’s do this. It’s going to be fine. As you say, they’re hardly going to shoot down their own citizens, are they? And anyway, I’ll protect you.” He took her hand as they strolled on to join the people walking up toward the large crowd that was already gathering.

  Chapter 2

  The crowd was in high spirits, the atmosphere as if there were a big game that afternoon. Laughter and even excitement seemed to be everywhere in the multitude of people, lighting their eyes like lanterns. Everyone was there, old people, young families, accountants, doctors, barmen, plumbers, painters, lawyers, and they all seemed to have brought their kids along, running all over. It was hard to say how many people, maybe three thousand, or maybe five, or ten. Mick thought of his parents and began to wish that they’d come along themselves. Mrs. McGlinchey, there with her eight children, was the first person Mick recognized. She greeted him with a broad smile as he ambled past, hand in hand with Melissa. It wasn’t right to introduce Melissa to anyone yet. Best to test the waters first. Pat wouldn’t be a problem. Some others might be. But let them hold on to their bigotry. Mick didn’t care. He took Melissa’s hand as they walked up the hill toward the boys, who were waiting for them. Some people had already started singing ‘We Shall Overcome.’ The blue and white civil rights banner was blowing in the now stiff breeze. It seemed like there was magic in the air, and Melissa’s smile widened with every step they took.

  Mick saw his family and friends gathered in a group at the top of the hill and gestured to Melissa. Mick felt her try to let go of his hand, but he gripped hers even tighter. They walked as one. Pat was first to see them. “So this is her?” He stepped forward with a massive grin on his face and, ignoring her outstretched hand, hugged her. “You’ve done well, little brother,” he said glancing at Mick.

  Melissa stepped back. “Wow, identical twins. You weren't joking were you?”

  “Can you tell the difference?” Pat asked.

  “I think so.” Melissa motioned for them to
stand side by side. They were wearing different clothes, which they had always made a point of doing. Melissa put her finger against her lips as she looked at them. “Yes. Mick, you’ve got a thinner face,” she nodded her head, backing her assertion.

  “Excellent.”

  Philip stepped forward. “The way I tell them apart is that Mick’s a dickhead while Pat’s just an arsehole,” he said, and Melissa started laughing. “So it’s pretty simple really.”

  “Thanks, Phil,” Mick said, “I wanted her to figure that one out for herself.”

  “I think I already had,” she answered.

  “Already figured me out?” Pat said. “That’s a new record then.” He held his arms up in the air in faux shock.

  Noel was the next to step forward to introduce himself. He held out a hand, his face uncertain. Mick stared at him. Jimmy was no better, but John smiled as Mick introduced her. There would be time to talk to Noel and Jimmy later. There were always going to be people who didn’t approve of this, although Mick had expected them to be older, and not his friends. He stepped back and put an arm around Melissa’s shoulders. “So, quite a crowd for the march today, eh? Where’s Paul?”

  “He’s going to come along later,” Noel answered.

  “Let me guess, you’re gonna meet him at Aggro Corner?” Pat asked. Noel didn’t answer. Paul, Jimmy, and Noel had taken to throwing stones at the British soldiers on Aggro Corner almost every night. They didn't have much else to do with their time. Saturday afternoon was an institution now, nicknamed ‘The Saturday Matinee’ by the locals. That was when the real crowds came. People were off work, kids were out of school, so they came to Aggro Corner to riot. They threw stones and bollards, paving stones and return any CS gas that might have been pitched their way. Mick could see the handkerchief soaked in vinegar, protruding from Jimmy’s pocket for when the soldiers tried to gas them later on. There was no point talking to the kid, not when grown men rioted every day themselves. It wasn’t just the norm, but the most commonly accepted free entertainment available in Bogside. Jimmy, Paul, and Noel had nicknames for each other. Jimmy was ‘Firebomber,’ Noel was ‘Hammer’ and Paul was the ‘General.’ Their mission that day was to get revenge on the soldiers for something or other that had happened a few days before. They’d said what, but no one listened anymore.

  A flat-topped coal truck pulled up, and the leaders of the procession got on, their loudspeakers in their hands. Mick turned around as he heard his brother’s shout.

  “You made it,” Pat said and as Mick turned around, he saw his father standing with two of his brothers and several friends. Melissa looked frightened now. Too much, too soon, Mick smiled to himself, and at her.

  “Best to get them all out of the way at once, you’ll love my dad, he’s a legend around these parts.” She seemed reassured, the confidence returning to her eyes. “Let me introduce you.”

  Mick led her over to where his father, uncles, and brother were standing, about twenty feet away. They were wearing their Sunday best clothes, shirts, and ties, pressed and laundered. Most of the marchers were.

  “I couldn’t miss this, Pat,” Peter was saying as Mick walked over. “This means too much to the community. I couldn’t just sit at home, not today.”

  “What did Ma say about that?” Mick asked. “I wouldn’t say she echoed your sentiments.”

  “Nah she didn’t, but she’ll get over it.” His eyes fell onto Melissa. “Who’s your friend, Mick?”

  Mick smiled and looked at Melissa. She stepped forward, holding out her hand. “My name’s Melissa, Melissa Rice. It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Doherty.”

  Peter took her hand, looked at Mick, and then back at her. “The pleasure’s mine. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.”

  “I’m from Waterside, my father’s a counselor there, Reg Rice.”

  “Well I’m delighted to meet you, Melissa Rice from Waterside, and welcome to Bogside.” He was smiling now. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us on our march today.”

  “So am I, it’s been wonderful so far.”

  “The information you shared with me just there, about your father? Let’s keep that to ourselves for now, OK?” He winked and turned around to introduce her as ‘young Mick’s beautiful new lady friend,’ to his brothers; Frank, Donal and Kieran, and his sisters, Ciara, Lisa and Deirdre. Mick and Pat said hello to each in turn. It took a while.

  “You have a large family,” Melissa said to Peter after she’d shaken their hands herself.

  “Not around these parts. Around here anything less than a dozen is hardly worth mentioning. And me, with only two? The shame of it.” He reached down to Melissa, his hand over one side of his mouth. “It’s all down to me wife, you know, French, so she is.” He shook his head, a fake puzzled expression on his face. “They’re different over there, but I wouldn’t change her.”

  One of the organizers on the truck said something indecipherable over the loudspeaker and the vehicle began to move and the people behind it. Exhilaration lifted the crowd, driving them forward in the coal truck’s wake and the march started. Some of the stern women at the front with Belfast accents were trying to shepherd people into rows, but the young people didn’t pay any attention and ran to the front. Jimmy, Noel and Paul with them. Pat knew the real reason Paul had been late; he had been getting the unexploded CS gas canisters that he’d picked up a few days before. Time to send them back.

  The crowd was spread out; the atmosphere laid back. It was very hard to tell how many people were out. As they moved down through the Creggan, more and more people came out of their houses to join the march like streams running into the vast river of people, and the crowd began to tighten and swell. Mick, Pat, their father, and family were walking together with Phillip and Melissa, about fifty yards back from the lorry. The organizers of the march spoke through their respective megaphones, and the crowd was beginning to sing. The soldiers from earlier weren’t to be seen, but the helicopter still circled overhead, buzzing like a vicious insect. Melissa moved toward Mick’s father and asked him how he’d met his wife. Mick looked at the two talking and smiled. Peter had met her when he’d fought for the British Army in World War II. He’d been among the men who’d landed on the beaches of Normandy with the Royal Ulster Rifles and had met Celine when he was on leave in Paris. If you believed her stories, he’d harassed her until she finally agreed to go out with him and then eventually after the war was over, move back to Derry with him. But, in fact, they fell in love the first time they met. Mick and Pat had heard the story enough times, from both sides.

  “So you’ve heard my story? What about yours?” Peter asked. He made sure no one other than Mick was listening. His family members were directly in front of them, but with the noise of the crowd, out of earshot.

  “It’s simple really. He found my wallet.” Melissa looked up at Peter and then straight ahead, at the flat top truck moving in front of them at about five miles an hour. “He ran after me on the street and tapped me on the shoulder.”

  “So you did the old, steal the girl’s wallet and then pretend you found it trick, eh, son?” he laughed. “I hope you thoroughly checked the contents after he handed it back to you.”

  “Da’s the comedian in the family as you can see,” Mick said to Melissa, who was red-faced with laughter.

  “Where were you when you met?” Peter asked after they’d stopped laughing. “No offense Melissa, but I can’t see you crossing the barricades into the Bogside too often.”

  “I was running down by the Guildhall,” Melissa answered.

  “I saw her drop her wallet, gave it back to her, and I had to ask her for a pint, I just had to.” Mick continued.

  “I can understand that I just can’t understand why she said yes.”

  “How could I say no, to this face?” Melissa said, pinching Mick’s chin.

  “Well, the good news is that if you get sick of this one, I’ve got another that looks just like him.”

  Mi
ck shook his head, but they all laughed again. “We’ve been seeing each other ever since. Six months now.”

  “And you never mentioned it?” Peter raised his eyebrows, tilting his head a few degrees. “I can see why. I had enough raised eyebrows myself marrying a foreigner. Being with someone from the other community? It’s never going to be easy.” There was silence for a few seconds. “This is a good way to meet people. On a day like today, people will see you for who you are.”

  “Aye, I did hope that, but that’s not the reason I’m here. I do want to support the cause.”

  “I know that,” Peter answered. “You’ve done well here, son. Now we’ll just need to get your brother set up with someone who could stand him.” He turned to Melissa again. “They look the same, but they don’t act the same. Very different people.”

  The demonstration moved down William Street, passing the pool where Peter had taught his boys to swim. An excited, hopeful, almost carnival atmosphere prevailed among the crowd as they approached the junction of Rossville and Little James Streets. The waste ground of Aggro Corner came into view. A once busy shopping area, now destroyed. Rubble lay all over the street, thrown down to be used again in the next riot. Charred buildings and hulks of burnt out cars dominated the landscape now. And the Paratroopers were there, their faces painted black, their camouflaged jumpsuits in stark contrast to the distinctive red berets some wore though most had combat helmets on their heads. All had their rifles pointed at the crowd. Melissa grabbed onto Mick’s arm. He tried to reassure her, but couldn’t find the words. He patted her hand. Pat, who was standing beside Uncle Kieran, looked back at his father as if looking for an answer to this. Still they shuffled forward. Snipers surrounded them. Some on the wall by the Presbyterian church, some on the flat roof of the Post Office, some in derelict buildings. Mick could see the barrels of their SLR rifles poking through broken glass windows now covered with sheets of corrugated iron.

  Some of the usual stone throwers took their opportunity and reached down to pick up whatever they could hurl at the soldiers. The teenagers at the front of the procession began to whistle and shout abuse. Not one soldier moved. Jimmy and Paul raced over to Aggro Corner and picked up the largest stones they could find. Paul almost hit one soldier, but he raised his shield in time. Noel just stood there, roaring abuse. There was a crowd of youths around them now. They had gotten what they were here for.